An Unbroken Heart (27 page)

Joann looked at her sister in surprise. Abigail had been giving her the silent treatment
ever since Joanna called off the wedding. Was this an olive branch? “I am a bit chilly.”

“Why didn't you come inside?”

Joanna shrugged. She wouldn't tell Abigail that she couldn't stand the strain between
them. She was doing what Sadie said—giving her sister time.

“I'm sorry, Joanna. I know I've been terrible to you since the wedding. I shouldn't
have gotten so angry.”

“I don't blame you. I disappointed everyone.”

“For goodness' sake, stop it.”

Joanna jerked her head toward Abigail. The moon was full tonight, and she could see
the shadow of irritation on her sister's face.

“Joanna, what's done is done. You told Andrew you were sorry, and he's the only one
who needs
yer
apology. The rest of us should be apologizing to you for pushing you
into something you weren't ready for. But we thought marrying Andrew would make you
happy.”

“It would have.” Joanna turned to Abigail, her throat tightening. “I've made so
many mistakes since I've been home. I don't know what to do to fix them.”

“Maybe you don't have to do anything. How have you felt since you talked to him?”

“Horrible.” She sighed. “But not completely. I'm upset that he's angry with me. But
I don't regret calling off the wedding. I only regret hurting him.”

Abigail leaned back in her chair. “Then I think there's hope for the two of you.”

“If you had seen Andrew, heard what he said . . .” She shook her head. “It's over.
I have to accept that.” Somehow.

Abigail didn't say anything for a long time. “I know what you mean. How do you stop
loving someone?”

Joanna reached for her sister's hand. “I don't know.”

“You do have one thing in
yer
favor. Andrew isn't like Joel. He's not fickle with
his feelings.” She tapped the heel of her shoe against the concrete patio. “He still
loves you, despite
yer
physical changes. I know you've been self-conscious about
the crutches and the scar. But Andrew doesn't care about that. He wanted to marry
you anyway.” She released Joanna's hand. “Joel dumped me because I gained a few pounds.”

“Did he say that to you?”

“
Nee
, but look at who he's dating right now. Rebecca Chupp. She's very pretty.”

“So are you.”

“Clearly Joel doesn't think so.”

“Looks don't matter—”

“Aha! See.” Abigail faced her. “To Andrew, you're beautiful. Crutches or no crutches,
scar or no scar.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we see the way he looks at you.” Abigail's voice sounded thick. “Joel never
looked
at
me that way. I think he liked when I flirted with him. When I . . .” She
paused.
“Joanna,
for some reason you've always focused on what you think you lack.
You
don't
realize how strong you are. You survived the accident. You fought back
the
pain
of surgery, and you're free of the crutches. You still see the good in people
and
you
always
have, even when the rest of us are cynical. You are beautifully and wonderfully
made. The only person who doesn't see it is you.” She stood. “I've got to finish
up a rug tonight. Sadie's going to sell it in the store tomorrow. If someone buys
it, I might make more. Looks like I'll have some extra free time now. Are you coming
inside?”

“In a minute. Abigail?”

“Ya?”

“Joel doesn't deserve you. You'll find someone who does.”

“Right, because there are
so
many single men in Birch Creek. Maybe if we lived in
a larger settlement—”

“You're not thinking of leaving, are you?” Joanna panicked. Abigail couldn't leave.
She needed her and Sadie. Aden too. They were the only family she had.

Abigail didn't say anything for a long moment. “
Nee
. I'm not going anywhere. I couldn't
leave you and Sadie, even if that means being single for the rest of
mei
life.”

“We'll both be.”

“
Nee
, not you. You and Andrew will find
yer
way back. I truly believe that.” She
went inside.

Joanna tapped her hand against the arm of the chair. Abigail had uncovered one of
Joanna's insecurities when it came to Andrew. Her physicality was part of her weakness,
but not all of it. Like she told Sadie, she didn't want a lopsided marriage. When
it came to Andrew, she didn't feel on equal ground.
I never felt on equal ground
with him.

Her eyes widened. Since that day in sixth grade when he stood up for her, he'd been
her savior. She felt safe with him, but she never felt
enough
. If she were, he wouldn't
hesitate to show her affection. He would have been eager to marry her when
she proposed,
not after the accident. It wouldn't have taken her almost dying to gain his love.

But why did she need Andrew to prove his love? Why couldn't she accept it from him
on his own terms? Why didn't she tell him what she needed instead of making him guess?

Because I never felt worthy.
That wasn't a new feeling born out of the accident.
She had always felt as if she were lacking something. She'd been racked with self-doubt
for as long as she could remember. Her perception of herself was the reason her relationship
with Andrew was unbalanced.
I am beautifully and wonderfully made.
On her own, she
was enough.

But with Andrew she was better.

She stood up, her legs feeling stronger than ever before. She still wanted Andrew.
Now she knew she could—and would—fight for him.

After Cameron left, Andrew was at loose ends. He thought about lecturing Irene on
the foolishness of letting strange men into the house when she was alone—or at any
time—but after talking to the guy, he realized Irene had done the right thing. He
also couldn't get what Cameron had said about his wife off his mind.
I'd do anything
to have her back.
But there was nothing he could do to get her back. Andrew remembered
how terrified he'd been when Joanna was in the hospital. He couldn't imagine the
grief and pain Cameron was going through. Joanna was alive. She was a buggy ride
away. All he had to do was drive to her house if he wanted to see her. But as long
as he was on this earth, Cameron would never see his wife again. That fact
did give
Andrew pause, but it didn't fix the break between him and Joanna.

He spent the rest of the day stacking firewood, even though it was already stacked.
He needed something physical to do that didn't require him using tools. He couldn't
hurt himself with firewood—at least he thought so, until he dropped a large piece
on the toe of his boot as Joanna's rejection played over in his mind again. By the
time it was dark he was physically exhausted and mentally drained. He walked past
the addition, intending to go to the main house, take a shower, and hopefully get
a decent night's sleep for once. The only way he'd be able to do that was if he could
get Joanna out of his mind. So far he hadn't been able to.

He passed by the addition door. His feet stopped on their own accord, as if something
was
pulling
him toward the structure. Although he didn't want to, he opened the
door
and
walked into the living room. What was this, his mind playing some kind of
torture
game
with him that he couldn't stay away from what was supposed to be his
and
Joanna's
home? It made no sense. Yet there he was, opening the door and stepping
inside
the
living area, breathing in the still-fresh scent of paint and wood flooring.
What
am
I doing here?

Then he saw a letter on the coffee table. It hadn't been there this morning when
he woke up. Why would his mother or Irene put his mail in here instead of giving
it to him directly? Then again, he hadn't been the friendliest person to be around
lately. He strode to the table and snatched up the letter.

He didn't recognize the handwriting or the return address. He almost tossed it back
on the table, sure it was an advertisement of some sort, probably some timber company
offering money to
clear the trees off his land. He was getting more and more of those
notices lately, and he wasn't interested. But he opened the envelope anyway.

After he read the first few sentences, he dropped onto the couch.

Dear Andrew,

I know you must be shocked to hear from me. I also know I don't have the right to
contact you after all these years. But when your mother wrote and told me you were
getting married, I had to write to you.

I wish I could be there for your big day. A man needs his father, even when he's
grown. I haven't been the father you needed me to be. For that I am truly sorry.
I hope one day to make it up to you.

Andrew stopped reading. He clenched the paper in his hand. Make it up to him? Did
he really think a letter would be the way to restart their relationship? He started
to crumple the paper in his fist, but he stopped, flattened it against his thigh,
and continued to read.

You probably don't want to hear any advice I have, especially when it comes to marriage.
I've made so many mistakes in that department. But I want you to remember this—love
Joanna as you would love yourself. Not because God commands it, but because your
wife deserves the best from you. Joanna Schrock must be a very special woman for
you to be in love with her. Treat her with kindness, gentleness, and love. That is
what a real man—a real husband—must do.

Your mother doesn't know I'm contacting you. She also doesn't know I'm going to tell
you the truth. All these years we needed you and Irene to believe I left because
of someone else. That's not the reason. It never was. I love your mother. She is
my wife, and always will be. Someday I hope to tell you the whole story, but I can't
right now. Just know that I didn't want to leave my wife and children. I had to leave.

I'll always love you and Irene, even if you can never forgive me for what I've done.
God willing, one day I'll be able to tell you in person. I won't write to you again.
Don't tell anyone you heard from me, including your sister. It's important that
things stay exactly the way they are, at least for now.

God bless your wedding and your marriage.

Love,

Dad

Andrew slumped in his seat. He stared at the words on the page. Was this a joke?
It didn't make any sense. He picked up the envelope again and looked at the return
address. It was a town he'd never heard of in California.

He dropped the letter, jumped up from the couch, and thrust his hands through his
hair. The letter couldn't be real. Someone was playing a cruel prank on him, hitting
him where and when he was most vulnerable. But who would do that? He never talked
about his father to anyone in Birch Creek, including Joanna. He wanted to excise
the man out of his life. So no one in the district would know enough about what had
happened back in Florida. He also knew deep down that no one in Birch Creek would
be that cruel.

The letter was real. The lump forming in his throat felt like
a boulder. What his
father didn't know was that he had tried to give Joanna his best. It wasn't good
enough.

And whatever had driven his father away . . . He shook his head. All the wounds he'd
tried to patch up over the years started opening. He sat back down on the couch and
hung his head. His throat ached, his nose stung, and he couldn't believe he was close
to tears. He'd thought his heart had turned to stone when it came to his father.
But after reading that he still loved his mother . . . that he hadn't left because
he wanted to . . .

Andrew looked up at the ceiling.
What do I do now, Lord?