An Unbroken Heart (26 page)

The man strode toward him, his hands fisted at his sides. “Where's my sister?”

“I'm right here, Andrew.” Irene walked into the living room. “And before you get
any more upset, everything is fine.”

Andrew went to her. They spoke to each other in a language Cameron didn't understand,
but from the turbulent look on Andrew's face and the irritated one on Irene's, he
could tell they were arguing. Irene caught Cameron's gaze and suddenly brushed past
Andrew.

“Sorry for my brother's rudeness.” She glared at Andrew, whose icy blue eyes snapped
right back.

The peace he'd felt moments ago evaporated. “We should leave.” He scooped Lacy's
diaper
bag
off the floor.

“You don't have to go,” Irene said. “Lacy doesn't need to be out in the chilly air.”

“But—”

“Irene's right.” Andrew stepped forward, looking a little less upset. “Why don't you show me what happened to your car?”

“Truck,” Irene said, correcting him.

That drew an irritated look from Andrew, and Irene gave him one right back. Oh yeah,
they were siblings. Cameron didn't have any brothers and sisters of his own, except
for dozens of foster siblings, none he had ever kept in touch with. He'd regretted
that since Mackenzie died. But like him, they had been eager to turn their backs
on their former lives and cut ties with everyone. Sometimes that was the only way
to break free of a past no one wanted to acknowledge or remember.

“You can show me what happened to your truck,” Andrew said. “Maybe I can help you
fix it.”

Cameron was about to tell him there was nothing Andrew could do, but then he caught
the man's meaning. He wanted to talk to Cameron alone. Cameron handed Lacy to Irene.
His daughter murmured a little bit, then settled against Irene's shoulder.

Andrew opened the door, and a cool blast of air hit Cameron as he stepped out onto
the front porch. He followed Andrew down the porch steps. When they were a few feet
away from the house, Andrew turned around and crossed his thick arms across his chest.

Cameron held up his hands, palms facing outward. “Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean
to bother your sister. I swear, my tire went flat, I don't have a spare, and I can't
get cell service. I was gonna wait in the truck until the tow arrived, but she insisted
I come inside.”

“Sounds like Irene.”

“Then I fell asleep and . . .” He stopped talking as Andrew continued to study him.
Cameron shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Lacy and I can wait in the
truck. It's not a big deal.”

“When is the tow supposed to arrive?”

“Around one, hopefully.” Cameron pulled out his phone and checked the time. He grimaced.
“At least three more hours.”

Andrew gave him another long look, sizing him up. “I don't mean to be rude,” he said,
dropping his defensive stance and relaxing a little bit. “I'm surprised, that's all.
We don't get many
Englisch
around here. Especially an
Englisch
man with a baby.”

“I totally get it. If I came home and found a strange man in my apartment . . .”
Cameron shook his head. “You're a lot calmer about it than I would have been.” He
paused, an idea occurring to him. Maybe he wouldn't have to wait for the tow truck
after all. “You got a spare tire? I just need something to get me to the nearest
service station. I'd pay you for it, of course.”

Andrew shook his head. “Don't have much use for tires around here. Not ones for trucks,
anyway.”

It had been a long shot, so Cameron wasn't surprised by Andrew's answer. He was disappointed,
though. “Guess you wouldn't.”

“Where are you from?” Andrew asked.

“Langdon. But I'm in the middle of moving,” he added quickly. “Heading south.”

“Taking the back roads?”

“Yeah.” Cameron nodded. “There was a detour from the freeway. Construction or something.”

Andrew started for the house. “We should go back inside
before my sister comes out
here. I'm sure she's standing at the window watching us. She can't mind her own
business sometimes.”

“I've got to say, for my daughter's sake, I'm glad she didn't this time.” He glanced
over his shoulder at the house in time to see the white curtain fall across it. He
smirked. Andrew was right. “Your sister is nice,” he said. He turned back to Andrew
and saw the man's gaze narrowing. “I don't mean anything by it. I'm not interested
in her like that.” Great. Now he sounded like he was insulting her. “Look, my wife
died a couple of months ago . . .” A lump lodged in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” Andrew said.

“Yeah.” Cameron rubbed the back of his neck, pushing aside his ponytail. He was so
tired of hearing everyone's apologies. They meant well, but the words wouldn't bring
Mackenzie back. “Thanks.”

Andrew frowned. “It's not easy.”

Cameron put his hand back in his pocket. “Sounds like you understand.”

“Sort of.” Andrew sighed. “Love hurts,” he muttered, looking down at the ground.

“Yeah. It does. But it's worth it. I wouldn't trade the time I had with Mackenzie
for anything. She was my world, and she gave me my daughter. That's worth a dozen
broken hearts in my book.” He cleared his throat, feeling weird that he was getting
so personal with a complete stranger. Yet he couldn't stop himself from saying his
next words. “I'd do anything to have her back.”

Andrew stared at him, but it seemed like he was seeing right through him. Then with
a shake of his head he said, “Let's go inside.”

For the next two hours Irene took care of Lacy, changing her, rocking her, and holding
her while she took another short nap. “Eat and get some rest,” Irene said. “You look
like you need it.”

That was blunt but accurate. He practically inhaled the sandwich and apple slices,
then stretched out on the couch, too tired to protest anymore. Besides, he didn't
need to fall asleep at the wheel and cause another accident. He clenched his hands
together, then relaxed enough to close his eyes.

Andrew woke him up when the tow guy arrived. Cameron took Lacy from Irene. She handed
him the diaper bag.

“I can't thank you enough for letting us hang out here,” he said.

She touched Lacy's little arm and took a step back. “I hope you find the peace you're
looking for, Cameron.”

He hadn't said anything about looking for peace. Little did she know he would never
find it. Not lasting peace, anyway.

“I'll be praying for you and Lacy.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Cameron and Lacy left the house and headed for the tow truck. Now he had both Mrs.
Rodriguez and Irene praying for him. He didn't ask for their prayers. They were pointless,
anyway. God wouldn't listen. Not after what Cameron had done. Once he crossed the
Ohio state line, he wasn't looking back.

“I'll be right back,” Naomi told the taxi driver as she opened the car door in front
of the post office in Cuyahoga Falls. She used an actual taxi service and not one
of the drivers in the Birch
Creek area. It was expensive, and also necessary. No
one could know she went twice a month to this post office to send mail, and hopefully
get a letter in exchange.

She'd written Bartholomew right after the wedding fell apart and had tucked the letter
into her purse. Usually she waited until Andrew was at work and Irene went out for
the day to go to Cuyahoga Falls, but with Andrew's unpredictable behavior and Irene
sticking close to home, she had taken her buggy and horse and tethered them at Asa's,
knowing he started his new job at Barton Plastics that morning.

As she opened the door to the post office and headed for the private box she'd rented
years ago, she thought about the lie she'd told Irene. Only half a lie, since she
planned to go to the Schrocks' after she returned to Birch Creek. But she still lied,
as she had been doing for so many years. The guilt was wearing her down, but she
didn't have a choice.

Naomi pulled the key out of her purse and inserted it into the lock. The door swung
open and her heart skipped at the sight of a letter. She took it out, holding it
in her hands like the precious document it was. Bartholomew wrote as often as he
could, but it wasn't enough. She treasured each letter.

But as she looked at the familiar handwriting on the envelope, she frowned. It wasn't
addressed to her. The letter was for Andrew.

She looked inside the box again. There was nothing else there. The return address
in the corner was fake, the one Bartholomew always used when he corresponded with
her. Why was he writing to Andrew? She locked the box, put Andrew's letter in her
purse, then slipped her own letter to her husband in the mail slot and left the post
office.

It was nearly a forty-minute drive back to Asa's house. Naomi's mind was whirling
with questions. She wished Bartholomew had at least written her a note telling her
why he was sending Andrew a letter. She should have at least had some warning. They
had decided together not to tell Andrew and Irene about the past and why he had left.
Why was Bartholomew breaking that promise now? And what was in his letter?

Several times she was tempted to open the envelope, despite knowing she would be
betraying both her husband and her son. But she couldn't do it. She had to trust
that Bartholomew had a good reason, and an urgent one, for writing to Andrew. She
also had to respect Andrew's privacy.

The drive seemed longer than usual as she struggled with her thoughts. The cab pulled
into Asa's drive. Naomi paid the driver, untethered her horse and buggy, and went
to the Schrocks' to pick up groceries. She didn't linger, and other than exchanging
a few polite pleasantries with Sadie, who was operating the cash register, she didn't
say much. She hurried home, only to stand in the barn, unsure what to do. Should
she hand the letter to Andrew? Of course he would ask questions if she did, questions
she wasn't prepared to answer.

She left the barn, and her gaze landed on the addition. For some reason Andrew had
spent the last two nights inside the new construction, which she thought was strange.
But she wouldn't question him about it. He had been silent and surly since Joanna's
visit the day before, and she didn't want to meddle any more than she already had.
She still believed they would find their way back to each other, but they would have
to do it on their own and according to God's will.

Naomi started for the house, then changed her mind and
went into the addition. “Andrew?”
she called out, in case he was there. He wasn't. She saw the coffee table in the
middle of the living room and set Bartholomew's letter on it. Giving the letter one
last look, she turned and left.

CHAPTER 14

T
hursday evening Joanna sat on the back patio. She'd watched the sun set over an
hour ago, and the air had turned cold. It was nearing the end of October, and she
should have on a jacket instead of the light sweater. But she couldn't be bothered
to get up and get one. Her cheeks were cold, her hands like ice. Homer lay at her
feet, his head lifting every once in a while at the stray sound of a dog barking
in the distance or a horse whinnying.

She stared at the leaves strewn across the yard, the moon casting a silvery and almost
eerie glow in the night sky, going over her visit with Andrew. Last night she didn't
have a nightmare, but she didn't sleep well, either. She tossed and turned, thinking
about Andrew's pained expression, the harshness in his voice that she'd never heard
before as he sent her away. Had she expected anything else, though?
You got what
you deserved.

The back door opened and Abigail came outside. She draped
a jacket over Joanna's
shoulders and sat down in the chair next to her. “Thought you might be getting cold.”