A Love Made New (13 page)

“Are you allergic to dust?”

“
Nee.
I've just always sneezed like that.” She glanced away, sniffing again. “It's pretty embarrassing.”

“If that's the most embarrassing thing you ever do, then you're lucky.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

She took the handkerchief and blew her nose. “
Danki
.” She was about to hand it to him but thought better of it. “I'll wash it for you.”

“That's okay—”

“I'm not giving this back to you after I blew
mei
nose on it.” She glanced around. “I think the room is
gut
enough for one night.” Then she spied some dust on the side table and started toward it.

“Here.” He took the sock from her hand and gave the table a quick swipe. “Done.”

“I'll take the sock, then.”

“Only if you promise me you'll quit dusting.”

She grinned. “Promise.”

He handed her the dusty sock. Then they stood in the room for a few moments, Sol not looking at her and Irene trying to think of something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Sorry about the quilt,” she said.

Sol looked at the bed. “What's wrong with it?”

“It's pink. And flowery.”

He shrugged. “Irene, I'm not picky.”

“I just want you to be comfortable.”

“And I will be.” He smiled a little. It was barely a lift of his lips, but it transformed his face from brooding to handsome, and her breath caught in her throat.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets. “I, uh, wanted to tell you that you don't have to help me with the birdhouses. In case you've changed
yer
mind.”

“From a couple of hours ago? I'm not that fickle, Sol. I said I would help you. Who knows, you may fire me after you see
mei
work.”

“
Nee.
I wouldn't.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I owe you an apology, and I've been trying to think of the right words.”

“Apology?”

“For flirting with you last year. For making you think I was interested in you.”

His words made her heart sink. She had known he was playing games with her. But hearing him say it out loud stung for some reason.

“I shouldn't have disrespected you like that.” He took a step forward, but his hands were still in his pockets. “You deserve better than that. Better than me.”

Her skin tingled at the tone of his voice. “Sol, you were a different
mann
back then.”

“
Ya.
But . . .” He looked down at his feet, which were covered in thick white socks. “Anyway, I'm sorry. I promise I won't disrespect you ever again.” He met her eyes. “I'm a work in progress.”

“Aren't we all?” She tilted her head and smiled. “The important thing is that we keep trying.”

“I'll never stop trying to be a better person, Irene.”

She clutched the sock and handkerchief in her hand, unsure how to respond to his words, to the intensity of his gaze as he spoke. All she could say was, “
Gute nacht
.”

“
Gute nacht
.”

She went to her bedroom and tossed the sock and Sol's handkerchief in the clothes basket in the corner. She sat down at the
edge of her bed. Downstairs she could hear everyone laughing as they continued to play Dutch Blitz. But all she could think about was Sol. He said he would never stop trying to be better . . . and she believed him. Maybe someday she could help him believe in himself.

“Are you sure Andrew doesn't mind giving up his bed?” Abigail snuggled under the covers, the pink-and-white quilt pulled all the way up to her chin.

Joanna smiled as she lay beside her. “
Nee.
He said he and Asa used to bunk together in the living room when they were
kinner
. Besides,” she said, elbowing Abigail, “it won't hurt him to sleep on the couch for one night.”

“I'm sure it will be the only time he ever sleeps there.” She grinned at Joanna. “You two seem so happy together.”

“We are.” Joanna rolled onto her side and lifted her head up, resting it on her arm. Her long brown braid fell over her shoulder. She was wearing a light pink nightgown that went clear to her toes.

Abigail was still wearing her dress. None of the Beiler women had anything to fit her. But she wasn't going to let that ruin the good time she'd had tonight. What had seemed like a disastrous evening had turned into a fun time. She hadn't been able to relax and enjoy life in ages.

“I'm so glad to see you smile again,” Joanna said, as if she could read Abigail's thoughts.

“It's
gut
to smile again.”

“So,” Joanna said, her eyebrows wiggling, “what's going on with you and Asa? Why were you at his
haus
tonight?”

Abigail rubbed the edge of the quilt between her fingers. “He wanted to look at some rug samples and asked me to bring them over. That's all.”

“Right.”

Abigail blew out a breath, her good mood diminishing. “Joanna, I'm serious. Asa is only a friend.” At least she was trying to convince herself of that. Her feelings about him were more confused than ever. “I don't want to get into another relationship.”

Joanna nodded, the teasing glint in her eye gone. “I understand. But Asa is a
gut mann
. He's dependable and loyal, and he and Andrew are as close as
bruders
. It's nice to have him as a friend,
ya
?”

“
Ya
.” And it was. Joanna was right. Asa had many wonderful qualities. There was no ego about him, and he never made her feel like she was less when he was around. But he made her feel other things, and that bothered her. Like when he looked at her with smoky intensity, as if they were connected somehow. Or the tingles she experienced tonight when he brushed against her shoulder with his, or when their hands had touched as they had reached for cards. Granted, that was part of the game. It was fast-paced and you had to get rid of your cards as quickly as you could. She'd bumped into Andrew and Joanna several times too.

Neither of them had affected her like Asa had, though.

Joanna touched Abigail's arm through the quilt. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. I just want to see you happy.”

“I know.” And she did. Since their parents' deaths, the three sisters had grown closer. They all wanted one another's happiness. Sadie and Joanna had theirs, and it wasn't only in the form of marrying the men they loved. Sadie had come into her own as the manager of the store. And Joanna had come back stronger
than ever from a physically and emotionally devastating accident. They weren't the same women they'd been before that day Cameron Crawford hit their parents' buggy while speeding down the back roads of Birch Creek. “Have you heard from Cameron recently?” Abigail asked.

“Andrew gets a letter from him once a week. They've become friends.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Of course. I'm glad they're writing to each other. Cameron is still thinking about being a pastor. He's been leading Bible study in prison. He says sometimes only one person shows up; other times it's ten or more. He doesn't care whether he meets with one or a dozen. He's just glad to hold the study. He's determined to be a better man for Lacy.”

Abigail thought about Cameron's daughter, who was less than a year old. Her mother had died in childbirth, and the grief over her death was partly to blame for Cameron causing the accident. Lacy was now in the care of one of Cameron's friends. Abigail didn't know all the details, but like Joanna, she had forgiven him.

Joanna yawned. “It's been a long
daag
. I'm going to turn out the light, okay?”

“Sure.”

A moment later the room was plunged into darkness. Joanna shifted in the bed beside Abigail while Abigail lay on her back, her hands folded across her middle. She continued to think about Cameron, her parents, even Aden and Sol's father. For years her life in Birch Creek had been peaceful. Easy, even. Not anymore. She stifled a sigh, not wanting to disturb Joanna. So much death and loss. And yet everyone continued to live their lives. Forging ahead.

That's what Abigail had to do. She couldn't mope about her life anymore. She had a good start on her business, and if she focused on that more than what she had lost, her business would start to thrive. She would throw herself into her weaving—and that meant using her special loom. Decision made, she closed her eyes, and for the first time in weeks, she prayed with intent.

“It's like we're
kinner
all over again,” Andrew said, tossing a quilt at Asa.

Asa easily snatched it out of the air with one hand. Since he was taller than Andrew, he was taking the couch, while Andrew took the loveseat. Asa lay down and threw the quilt over his legs. He didn't really need it. The room was warm enough from the woodstove. Outside the wind continued to howl. Surely it would end soon since the storm had been going on for several hours. He put his hands behind the back of his head and glanced at Andrew. “It's not exactly like it was when we were
kinner
. You didn't have a wife on the other side of the
haus
.”

Andrew grinned as he turned off the gas lamp. “
Nee
, I didn't.”

The room was immersed in darkness except for the glow from the woodstove. He listened to the crackling wood, his thoughts turning to Abigail. After they arrived at Andrew's, she was different. And when they were playing the card game, he felt like he'd seen a glimpse of the real Abigail, the one that was hidden underneath a layer of rejection, pain, and grief. She'd been so pretty, her full cheeks rosy with laughter, her smile so bright as she trounced everyone several times in Dutch Blitz. She was a good player. But he had to admit he was off his game. He had
a hard time sitting next to her, hearing her laughter, seeing the way she fully concentrated on playing. Several times he'd missed playing key cards because she'd unknowingly distracted him. He hadn't minded losing one bit.

He frowned. It hadn't been this way with Susanna. He'd enjoyed being with her. He'd thought they were a good fit. He cared about what happened to her. He had thought he loved her.

Yet what he felt for Abigail ran deep, straight into his bones. Was that God's doing? Was God showing him the person he'd thought he loved hadn't been the right person for him after all?

He rolled on his side. He would ponder this all night if he let himself. He closed his eyes, already hearing Andrew's steady breathing. He was asleep. Asa should be too. But each time he closed his eyes, he saw Abigail's beaming face as she looked at him, meeting his gaze directly without wariness. She looked at him with joy. Joy over winning the game, but still. The glow in her chocolate-colored eyes had surrounded his heart, cocooning it in a pleasant feeling he'd never experienced in his life. Susanna would look at him with adoration, which lifted his ego. But Abigail had touched his heart.

That didn't mean anything had changed between them, other than he had admitted to her that he wanted to be her friend. Now he had to convince her he wanted more without coming off as a weirdo. He wasn't sure how to do that. With Susanna, it had been easy. They had been together because it was expected, especially by both their families. Now he knew he was destined for something more. But how could he show that to Abigail?

He rolled over again, then switched to the opposite end of the couch a few minutes later. The quilt tangled in his legs. He had kept on his pants but borrowed one of Andrew's T-shirts. It hung loose on him because Andrew was so broad-shouldered.

After what seemed like hours, he sat up. This wasn't working. He couldn't lie here all night tossing and turning. Slowly he got up from the couch and crept to the kitchen. Although he didn't know why he bothered being quiet. He knew Andrew could sleep through anything.