An Unbroken Heart (25 page)

Cameron grit his teeth, his patience as thin as paper right now. “Can you give me
a tow or not?”

“Son, you don't have to be rude about it.” A pause. “But since I can tell you're
desperate, I'll try to fit you in. It will be a while, though. Got two people in
front of you. Business is busy today.”

Relief flowed through him. “Thanks. What time do you think you can be here?”

“Oh . . .” A long pause, and Cameron thought he was going to lose it. “Three hours.
Maybe four?”

Cameron groaned and leaned his head against the shanty. “Not any sooner?”

“Nope. And I've got another call coming in, so you better let me know now if you
want me to come out.”

Cameron gave the guy the address. Four hours? What was he going to do during that
time?

“I'll call you when I'm on my way,” the guy said.

Cameron frowned. “I'm, uh, using a phone in a shanty.”

“Ah. You're in Birch Creek, then? I didn't recognize the street name. Then again,
I don't get too many calls from the Amish. Just look for me around one o'clock.”

After Cameron thanked the guy and hung up the phone, he ran back to Irene's house.
He knocked on the door first before walking in, not wanting to barge into her house.
His body tensed as worst-case scenarios fleeted through his mind, but then he felt
ridiculous when he saw Lacy contentedly sucking on a bottle while Irene held her.

“Did you find someone to come get your car?”

He nodded, not bothering to correct her that he had a truck, not a car. “They can't
come out until early afternoon.” He looked at Lacy. His hands itched to hold his
daughter again, but she seemed fine with Irene. Interrupting her feeding would just
upset Lacy and make Irene think he didn't trust her.

“You can stay here and wait,” she said.

Cameron shook his head. “Uh, you don't know me from Adam.”

“Who's Adam?”

He couldn't help but chuckle. “What I mean is that I could be an ax murderer or something.”

“But you're not.”

“Are you always this trusting?”

Lacy slowed down her sucking, and Irene pulled the bottle out of the baby's mouth.
She leaned Lacy against her shoulder and patted her back. His daughter burped. Irene
was right. She was good with babies.

“No. But I can tell you're harmless.”

He crossed his arms, intrigued. “How so?”

“You're too comfortable with Lacy, for one thing. And you were worried about leaving
her with me. Oh, I think she's done.” The bottle drooped in Lacy's mouth, and her
long-lashed eyes drifted closed.

“Maybe I'm using her as a way to get into your house.”

Irene met his gaze, unflinching. “But you aren't, are you?”

He shook his head. “I'm just trying to get to West—uh, get to the freeway with my
daughter.” His stomach growled. In his hurry to get on the road, he had skipped breakfast.

Irene rose from the chair, carefully cradling Lacy. “Here.” She gestured with a tilt
of her head. “Have a seat. I'll fix you something to eat.”

He was about to protest. He didn't want a handout or to be beholden to anyone, especially
an Amish woman in Birch Creek. But what choice did he have, other than to sit in
the truck with Lacy for the next four hours? Irene held Lacy out to him. He took
his daughter and sat in the hickory rocking chair.

“Do you like ham and cheese?”

Right now he'd eat the sole off his sneaker. “Sounds good.”

“I'll be back in a minute.” Then she paused. “Do you need to use the phone again
to call your wife?” At his frown she added, “To tell her about the flat tire.”

“My wife . . . passed away.”

Irene's mouth dropped open. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“It's all right.” Eventually he would get used to the awkward pain that occurred
when he had to explain that he was a single father. But not today. “I'm used to the
question,” he said, lying. He glanced at Lacy. “It's . . . hard, you know?”

“Yes.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “It's always hard to lose someone you love.”

He looked at her, the pain in her eyes so stark it had him wondering whom she had
lost. Then she brightened, the moment passing so quickly he might have imagined it.
“How old is Lacy?”

“Two months.” He kissed the top of his baby girl's head and held her close.

After a pause she said, “I'll get that sandwich.”

He glanced around the living room, which was sparse but cozy. Heat emanated from
a wood-burning stove in the corner. But the last place he wanted to be was in an
Amish home. The reminder of what he had done bubbled to the surface. Although he
came from a broken home, he'd never broken the law in his life, and now he was running
from it.
I'm doing this for Lacy. I can't raise her from a prison cell.
He had to
keep reminding himself that the end justified the means. It was the only thing that
kept him from strangling on the guilt.

Lacy rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and let out a tiny sigh. He pressed his
toe
against
the floor and started tipping the chair back and forth, letting the
heat
from
the woodstove envelop
him. He closed his eyes, and for a few moments he allowed himself
to relax, to enjoy holding Lacy in the silence that surrounded them, to forget about
everything he was doing wrong and how desperate he was to do right by his daughter.

Irene ran a large knife through a juicy Honeycrisp apple, cutting the fruit into
wedges. She placed them on the plate next to the ham and cheddar cheese sandwich
she'd made for Cameron. She had no idea if he liked apples, but giving him only a
sandwich seemed pitiful. Her mother had left that morning to go shopping at the Schrocks'
to resupply the pantry. They had spent so much time preparing food for Andrew's wedding
that they had failed to realize their own supplies were running low.

She put the knife in the sink, then leaned against the counter, her head pounding.
She still couldn't believe what Joanna had done. Andrew was a wreck, even more so
since Joanna had stopped by to apologize. She assumed he had gone to work today,
but she really didn't know. He wasn't talking to her or to
Mamm
. She had never seen
him so upset.

Mamm
had said he needed time, and Irene understood that. Still, her heart went out
to her brother, and she wished there was something she could do to help him. When
their father left, they leaned on each other to try to understand his abandonment.
Over the years they'd had their fair share of arguments. What siblings didn't? But
she loved him. He didn't deserve to be hurt so deeply.

She rubbed the center of her temples. Her brother was miserable, her mother was worried
even though she was trying
to hide it, and now there was an
Englisch
stranger in
her living room. Andrew would be livid if he knew she'd let a man in the house while
she was alone.

But from the moment she saw Cameron holding his baby daughter, she knew she had to
help him. He didn't look like any
Englisch
man she'd seen before. He was tall and
thin. Too thin, she thought. His black hair was slicked back and tied at the neck
in a long ponytail that hung between his shoulders. His jaw was covered with dark
stubble, and thick black eyebrows rested above his eyes. There were dark shadows
beneath them, as if he hadn't slept in a month. There was also something desperate
about him, but not dangerous. Now that she knew his wife had died, she understood.

She picked up the plate of food along with a glass of tea and carried it into the
living room. She slowed her steps, then stopped completely and leaned against the
door frame. Both father and daughter were asleep. His brow, deeply furrowed before,
was now relaxed, along with the rest of his face and body, as he slept in the rocking
chair. She tiptoed into the room and set the food on the coffee table, then snuck
back into the kitchen.

Andrew gripped Fred's reins as he turned into his driveway. He'd tried to work today,
but he couldn't focus. Not wanting to hurt the horses or himself, he rescheduled
his appointments and went back home. He didn't know what he was going to do there,
either, but at least he wouldn't accidentally injure one of his clients' animals.

He pulled up to the barn, purposely ignoring the addition. He still intended to take
it down. He would have gotten partway through the demolition last night if Joanna
hadn't come over. He'd been so angry with her he went back to the addition, only
to fall asleep on the couch again. When he woke up to sunlight streaming through
the pristine glass of a brand-new window, fresh pain washed over him as he remembered
everything he'd lost.

As he put Fred back in his stall, he thought about Joanna's visit again. He hadn't
realized it at the time, but she wasn't using her crutches. Good for her. And he
realized he meant it. He was furious with her, but he wanted her to heal.

I love you.

Her words and the tearful passion with which she'd spoken them still resonated in
his heart. But his feelings were the last thing he trusted. Despite himself, he still
loved her. He always would. But he refused to be hurt by her again. He would continue
with his life the way it had been before they dated. He'd work hard at his job. Take
care of his mother and sister. Everything would go back to being the same as it had
been when he and Joanna weren't romantically involved.

He accidentally jerked Fred's reins. “Sorry,
bu
,” he said to the horse. Who was he
fooling? Nothing would be the same—or right—again.

He started for the house, saw the addition, and went around to the front door. He'd
spend the rest of the afternoon taking the addition apart. Maybe Asa could use the
materials for his house. He opened the front door and his jaw dropped. There in his
living room was an
Englisch
man sitting in the hickory rocking chair, holding a baby.

At the sound of the front door opening, Cameron's eyes flew open. He bolted upright
in
the
chair, startling Lacy. His daughter started to cry as he turned to see a
broad-chested
Amish
man walk into the living room, his eyes wide with surprise, then
narrowing
with
suspicion.

“Who are you?” he asked. He was shorter than Cameron, but his chest was twice as
wide and his thick arms had to be three times as strong as Cameron's. “What are you
doing in my house?”

Cameron rose and stood near the woodstove, rubbing Lacy's back to soothe her. “Cameron
Crawford,” he said, immediately wanting to kick himself for giving his full name.
Then again, it wasn't like the police would be looking for him in an Amish home.
It would be the last place they would search. “I had a flat tire a little while
ago and I'm waiting for a tow.”