An Unbroken Heart (28 page)

After having his truck towed to the nearest service station and being told it would
take them several hours to get to it, Cameron found a motel within walking distance.
He planned to lay low for a few hours until his truck was ready. So far nothing had
gone according to plan. In fact, everything seemed to be against him. But that would
change once he was on the road again.

He'd stayed in some dumps before as a kid when his mother was using, and she would
take him with her to score drugs, often spending the night at the dealer's dilapidated
house, apartment, or trailer. But this was possibly the worst—and cheapest—place
he'd ever stayed. He could do anything for a few hours, he figured.

His cell phone rang. He reached for it and answered. “Hello?”

“Cameron Crawford?”

His guard went up at the unfamiliar voice. “Speaking.”

“Yeah, we've got your truck here. You wanted a new tire?”

This was a different guy than he'd talked to earlier. Cameron
glanced at Lacy, who
was still awake but watching his movements. “Yeah. Is the truck done?”

“Not yet.” He paused. “We're not going to get to it today. Sorry.”

“What?”

“We've been backed up. I had a guy go home with the flu. It's been crazy around
here.
But
we'll have it done first thing in the morning.”

Great. So now he and Lacy were stuck here? He wanted to throw the phone against the
wall. “What time?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Eight thirty. Also, you picked out a cheap tire. I'd recommend something a little
better if you're planning to drive a lot. We've got a medium-priced tire that would
save you money in the long run—”

“I'll take the cheap one.”

“Seriously, you'll be better off with—”

“Just put the tire on the truck!”

“All right.” The man paused, his next words sounding more tentative. “We do body
work. Do you want us to fix the damage to the front?”

The phone nearly slid out of Cameron's hand. He'd forgotten about the dent on the
right side of the front of the truck. After the accident he'd tried to pound it out
himself. Apparently he hadn't done that good of a job. “No,” he said, then swallowed.

“You sure? It won't take long to do.”

“I'm sure.” Cameron forced his tone to be steady.

“We'll call you in the morning when we've got the tire put on.”

“Thanks.”

An hour later Lacy started screaming. Over the next few hours, he tried everything
to calm her down. He fed her, changed her, gave her a sponge bath because he didn't
trust the cleanliness of the moldy tub in the bathroom, dressed her, undressed her,
and finally set her in her carry seat and let her squall. When he couldn't stand
it anymore, he picked her up and walked around with her. She had started to settle
down when the hotel phone rang, triggering another crying jag. He picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“We're getting complaints,” the scratchy, cigarette-tinged voice of the front desk
guy admonished.

Cameron didn't need to ask him what the complaints were about. “I'm trying to get
her settled. She doesn't feel good.” He had no idea if that was Lacy's problem, but
he had to say something.

“If you don't keep the noise down, you'll have to leave.”
Click.

Cameron set the receiver back in the cradle. Lacy was still crying. “Shhh. Daddy's
got you. It will be all right.”

He found that walking up and down the width of the room and holding her flat on
her stomach over his forearm seemed to help. After almost an hour she quieted, and
he set her on top of her blanket on the bed. He lay down next to her, not bothering
to change out of his clothes. He was exhausted and thankful she had finally gone
to sleep. As he lay on his side and stared at her sweet, peaceful face, he could
hardly believe that minutes before it had been scrunched up into a red, squalling
ball.

He continued to look at her, his eyelids growing heavy. For some reason he remembered
what Irene had said before he left.
“I'll be praying for you and Lacy.”
So far her
and Mrs. Rodriguez's prayers weren't working.

Yet a tiny part of him felt something he couldn't define. It
wasn't peace or happiness
or even a steadying of his nerves. But something was stirring inside him, just beyond
his reach and understanding. It was enough to allow him to close his eyes for a moment,
to catch a few winks before Lacy woke up again wanting a bottle or a fresh diaper
or something he couldn't figure out.

His cell phone rang again. His eyes flew open. How long had he been asleep? He looked
at
Lacy,
who was wide awake but quiet. She stared at him, her round blue eyes studying
his
face
as if she'd never seen him before. Then she smiled, and his heart soared.
Her
first
smile. He was on the run and stuck in a roach motel, but it was the most
beautiful
thing
he'd ever seen.

He pulled out his phone and looked at the number. The service station. He sat up
and answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Crawford? Your truck is ready.”

Cameron checked on Lacy one more time before getting up and pulling back the green
window curtain. Daylight hit his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.”

He looked back at the bed. Lacy had slept through the night? He smiled at her. “Good
girl.”

“What?”

“Sorry.” Cameron let the curtain fall. “I'll be there as soon as I can.” He hung
up the phone and went to Lacy, who was now starting to fuss. He changed her diaper,
fed her a bottle, then gathered their things and walked to the station.

The guy was behind the counter, already writing up Cameron's ticket with greasy fingers.
A white oval name tag with the name Karl was stitched on his dark blue shirt. “Sure
we can't fix that dent for you?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine said he'd take care of it for me.”
Cameron didn't blink as
he told the lie. Somehow he'd have to get that dent fixed, but he couldn't afford
it right now.

The guy peeled the ticket off the pad and handed it to Cameron.

Cameron pulled out his wallet, which was thick with money. Before he left Langdon
he had closed out his account. It pained him to part with $120, but he had no choice.
He thumbed through the bills, glancing up when he realized Karl was staring at his
wallet. Cameron quickly took out the money and handed it to him.

Karl seemed to be taking his time punching in the amount and sliding the bills into
the cash drawer. Cameron tapped his foot as he held on to Lacy's carry seat. He snatched
the key out of Karl's hand when the guy finally handed it over to him.

Cameron put Lacy in the backseat of the king cab, then got into the driver's seat.
He touched his forehead to the steering wheel. They were getting out of here. When
he hit the freeway thirty minutes later, he felt like he could finally breathe.

CHAPTER 15

B
y Saturday Joanna couldn't stand it anymore. She'd spent the past couple of days
trying to figure out how to reach out to Andrew, praying that God would show her
what to do. She still didn't have a clear idea. However, she knew her prayers weren't
in vain. Although she was still confused about making things right with Andrew, the
rest of her life was moving more smoothly. She didn't need the crutches anymore.
She was finding joy in cooking and baking again. She had even worked one day in the
store. Not for very long and she hadn't done much, but it was good to do something
different. When she caught a young
Englisch
girl staring, she assumed it was because
of her dress and
kapp
and not her face. It was the first time she hadn't been self-conscious
about the scar.

“You seem to be feeling better,” Sadie had said when Joanna helped her close the
store that night.

“I am.” She smiled, and this time it wasn't for the benefit of her sister or because
she was trying to convince anyone she was
okay. She really was okay. She still grieved
her parents, and she and her sisters had a couple of crying sessions together as
they talked about the memories. But overall she was in a much better place than she
had been for months. The only thing missing was Andrew. And with each passing day
the hole his absence left in her heart grew.

During breakfast that morning Joanna had said, “I'd like to move to my bedroom upstairs.”

Sadie sprinkled cinnamon sugar on a piece of freshly buttered bread. “Are you sure?
You can stay downstairs as long as you want.”

Joanna shook her head. “I don't have trouble with the stairs anymore. I want to be
in
mei
old room.”

After breakfast, Aden and her sisters helped Joanna move her belongings back to her
bedroom, Homer trailing behind. When they left she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Being in the room gave her a sense of normalcy. She looked at the light pink curtains
covering the window, then shifted her gaze to her bureau. She smiled. It was good
to be truly home.

She patted Homer on the head and stood. It was time to prepare lunch for Sadie, Abigail,
and Aden, who was outside splitting firewood. The nights had turned cold, and they
used the woodstove in the living room every evening now. Soon it would be November.
Her heart grew heavy. They would be facing the upcoming holidays without their parents.

Joanna left her room and started to head for the stairs, but she paused. She stared
at the door of her parents' bedroom. She hadn't been in the room except the day she
had returned from Middlefield. With her heart and mind filled with memories and grief,
she went to the door, held her breath, and opened it. The
room had remained untouched
since
Joanna's
return. It was also stuffy. Clearly Sadie and Abigail hadn't been
in
here
either. She opened the window to let in the cold, fresh air. She turned and
saw
a
box on the floor. She and Abigail had looked through the contents right after
Joanna
had
come home. She crossed the room and sat on the floor. A dull pain twinged
in
her
hips, but she ignored it. She opened the box and went through the contents
again.

She pulled out a half-knitted sock. A ball of yarn and knitting needles. She had
already taken the cookbook that had been in the box and had used some of the recipes.
As she dug through scraps of fabric, another set of knitting needles, and several
spools of thread, she saw a small stack of recipe cards held together with a rubber
band. At the top of the first one was written “Matthew's Favorites.”

Tears brimmed as she read through the cards. Some of the corners were bent and food
spots and splashes were on all of them. She also saw small notes written in tiny
letters next to the recipes.

Coleslaw: use less vinegar next time

Sugar cookies: need to bake longer

Chicken and noodles: he loved this. Will make more often.

Ever since Joanna could remember, her mother would make chicken and noodles every
week. She hadn't thought about it until now, but her father's eyes had always lit
up when she put a heaping serving on his plate. As she looked through the rest of
the recipes, she realized why they were in the box and not in the kitchen. Her mother
had made them often enough that she didn't need the cards anymore. Yet she had kept
them.

Memories washed over her. Her parents weren't demonstrative with their affection
in front of her, Sadie, and Abigail. But they showed their love to each other in
other ways.
Mamm
made
Daed's
favorite foods.
Daed
always brought her a mug of hot
tea in the evenings. They had probably done dozens of things Joanna never noticed.

How had she shown Andrew her love since she'd been back to Middlefield? She hadn't.
Even agreeing to marry him hadn't been out of love but out of fear she would be alone.
In her heart she had accused Andrew of rushing the wedding out of guilt or pity.
But her motives for marriage hadn't been pure, either. In fact, they had been even
more selfish.

She put everything back in the box, giving the recipe cards one last look. “You were
right,
Mamm
,” she whispered. “I wasn't ready to marry Andrew. But I am now.”