A Love Made New (19 page)

Asa beamed as Sadie left. He seemed genuinely flattered and more than a little surprised.

Then he turned to see her looking at him and got up from the chair. “We need to finish our conversation.”

“
Ya
, we do.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Asa, we shouldn't see each other anymore.”

Every good emotion he'd felt at Sadie's compliments disappeared with Abigail's words. “What? That's not what I meant at all.”

“I know. You said you wanted to be
mei
boyfriend. I don't want a boyfriend.” She shrugged, as if what she said carried little weight.

But she wasn't looking at him and he knew she wasn't as casual as she was trying to be. “Why are you pushing me away?” Impatience entered his tone, but he was getting irritated. Before Sadie had interrupted him he was about to pour out his heart. He'd already given her half of it. He was about to tell her he loved her. That he wanted to marry her. It wasn't logical because they hadn't even had one date. But life wasn't always predictable and orderly. He was learning that lesson fast.

She faced him, her mouth drawn tight. “You must not be used to being rejected,” she said, sounding snide and very much unlike herself.

“If you're trying to hurt me, you're doing a
gut
job.” That honesty thing again.
This is getting old, Lord.

Her features softened. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Then don't act like
mei
feelings aren't important.” He turned away from her and gripped the side of the counter. He'd been taught all his life not to be prideful. And he really thought
he hadn't been. But chasing after Abigail Schrock was chipping away at his ego and he felt pain with each blow.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes. He hadn't lost her after all. He turned and faced her, putting his hand over hers. When he came over today, he vowed not to get too close. She was like fire to him, both magnetic and dangerous. The kiss they'd shared last week had been heady. Feeling her soft hand underneath his palm, he realized that no matter the blows to his ego, no matter how vulnerable he had to be, no matter how impulsive he was acting, he would do anything to spend the rest of his life with her.

“I don't understand you,” she said, looking up at him with those chocolate-brown eyes he loved so much. “We don't know each other very well. We don't have anything in common.” She let out a bitter chuckle. “I had
nee
idea what you and Sadie were talking about during lunch.”

“I could teach you.”

She shook her head. “I'm not interested in learning. Don't get me wrong. I respect
yer
knowledge. I know how smart you are.” She bit her bottom lip. “A lot smarter than me.”

His eyes widened. He'd never been called smart. Not by his parents, not by his teachers, not by his employers. He'd always done a good job and he'd been complimented on his work ethic. But
Asa Bontrager
and
smart
weren't used in the same sentence. “
Danki
,” he said, her compliment touching him almost as much as her kiss had.

“For what?”

He removed her hand from his shoulder but didn't release it. “
Nee
one has ever said I was smart before.”

“I don't believe that.”

“It's true.” He sighed, barely aware that he was rubbing his
thumb over part of her hand and that she wasn't pushing him away. “People always assume things come easy to me. They definitely don't.”
Like loving you
. He gave her a rueful grin. “I've actually spent the past four years studying accounting. I read every book I could find on the subject. Back in Indiana I became friends with one of the bank officers and we would have lunch and talk about investments and . . . I know, you're not interested.”

She squeezed his hand. “
Geh
on.”

“When I was in Shipshe I mentioned to
mei
parents that I wanted to quit the factory and open
mei
own bookkeeping business. That was met with very little enthusiasm.
Mamm
was worried I wouldn't make enough money to support a family.
Daed
didn't understand why I was interested in ‘all those numbers and stuff.' He said that was for smart people, and I was better off at the factory.”

“That was insulting.”

He was pleased she was indignant on his behalf, but he had to set her straight. “He wasn't insulting me. He was concerned about
mei
future. And to be honest, growing up it wasn't like I had
mei
nose in a book all the time.”

“So school did come easy to you.”

“Up to eighth grade, anyway. So I stayed at the factory. Security is very important to
mei
parents. It's why we went to Shipshe in the first place.
Daed
lost his job here. He had a
gut
job at the RV factory, and I had one too. He didn't want me losing that.”

“Even though you don't want to do factory work.”

“Sometimes what you want doesn't matter. Other times . . .” He couldn't finish the thought. He could only stare at her, lost in the beauty of her face, the way she made him feel as he told her something he'd never told anyone, not even Andrew. She made
him feel safe. Respected. That she could look beyond his outer shell and see what was on the inside.

“Asa.” She pulled her hand out of his. “There's
nix
keeping you from being an accountant. Sol was here earlier. He needs someone to keep his books. Maybe Andrew does too, and Joanna. Her baked goods have been selling very well, better than
mei
rugs and the birdhouses.” She smiled. “I'm sure you can find enough clients in Birch Creek to open
yer
own business.”

“You think so?” Was this another reason God had wanted him to come to Birch Creek? So he could find the courage to pursue his true passion? He'd never put that together before, but here was Abigail, gently pushing him in that direction.

“Absolutely. You should do what you want to do. What you're called to do. Life is too short not to.” Her voice softened to a sweet, melancholy lilt. “You never know when you might lose the chance. Or never have the chance at all.”

He knew she was thinking about her parents. He reached out to touch her again, but when she tried to pull away, he held on to her hand and closed the space between them.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes grew round with surprise.

“Taking
mei
chances.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. He loved the softness of her face, her sweet roundness. “I was serious about what I said before. I want to be
yer
”—he almost messed up and said husband, but he caught himself in time—“boyfriend. And before you say we don't know each other or we don't have anything in common, I'm telling you we do. We can get to know each other better and we can start by me taking you home from church on Sunday.”

“I don't want a boyfriend.” But she sounded less sure now. And she wasn't moving away from him.

“You already told me that. Now tell me to
mei
face that you
don't feel anything when we're together.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “That the kiss we shared meant
nix
to you. Tell me that, and I'll walk away right now.”

Asa was good. He was really good. Her heart was in her throat as he looked at her, still holding her hand, her cheek tingling from where he had touched her. His gray eyes were once again at half-mast, his smile confident without being cocky. She would have found all this endearing and amusing if she wasn't scared to death.

“I . . .” He was right. She couldn't lie and say there was nothing between them, that she hadn't felt the connection even though it didn't make any sense. “I can't tell you that.”

His grin widened, but she didn't feel any better. Six months ago she'd been ready and eager to marry Joel. Now she was kissing someone else, completely forgetting that Joel even existed. That had to be wrong.

“We're meant to be together, Abigail,” Asa said.

“How do you know?”

“Because . . .” Something passed over his expression, something she couldn't decipher. Then it cleared and he brought her hand to his chest, flattening her palm against his heart. “I feel it. Here.”

She felt it too. The thrumming of his heartbeat, as if he'd run a race. A person couldn't fake that kind of reaction. She knew it because her heart was beating in the same frantic rhythm.

“We'll take everything slow.” He moved her hand from his chest and stood back. “We can start with a ride home Sunday afternoon. Maybe a rematch of Dutch Blitz one evening next week.”

His promise made her relax a bit. Slow. She liked that idea. She also liked the idea of spending time with him doing something fun, like playing cards. “You're ready to lose again?” she said, this time not bothering to mask her smile.

“
Nee.
I'm ready to win.”

There was a double meaning to his words. But before she could agree to anything, she had to be clear. “I can't let
mei
heart get broken again.”

“Your heart is safe with me,” he said with absolute seriousness. “I promise.”

Joel had promised her too. But Asa wasn't Joel. Asa made her feel more than Joel ever had, and she wanted to hold on to this feeling forever. Which was why she couldn't bear it if he rejected her.

You never know when you might lose the chance.

She needed to take her own advice. “All right,” she said. “One ride home from church, and one rematch of Dutch Blitz. That's all I'm agreeing to.”

He grinned and grabbed his hat. “That's enough. I'll see you Sunday.”

After he left she sat down at the table, hoping she had made the right decision.

W
hat's wrong, Irene?”
Mamm
said. “You don't seem
yerself
tonight.”

Irene sat at the kitchen table finishing off the last of Abigail's rugs. Abigail did most of the weaving, and then Irene bound the ends so they wouldn't unravel. But her thoughts weren't on the rugs. She was thinking about Sol. Since that day they'd smeared each other with paint, he had been withdrawn and almost mute whenever she showed up for work, as if nothing had happened between them. But she remembered the way he'd looked at her, his eyes filled with attraction and yearning. She had seen a glimpse of the real Solomon Troyer. A guy who liked to have fun, who liked to tease . . . and who was so broken and lonely he made her heart hurt.

But she had felt something else when she allowed herself to touch his cheek, feeling the scratch of his short, russet-colored whiskers, seeing the small scar below his left eye that she hadn't noticed before. Sol needed her. She was sure of that, just as she was sure he wouldn't hurt her, at least not on purpose. And in
that moment she realized that she needed him too. His kindness, his steady loyalty to his mother and brother, his desire to be a better man. She needed someone like him in her life.

And then he left, basically dismissing her and running away like a wounded animal, leaving her confused about what to do next. She'd been pondering over it for the past two weeks, and things between them were at an impasse. “I'm fine,” she said, focusing on stitching the last of the rug together, not wanting to talk about this with her mother—or anyone else.

Mamm
sat down next to her. “You'll excuse me if I don't believe you.”

Irene set down the sewing and sighed. “I'm not a
gut
liar.”

“Which is a wonderful thing.”
Mamm
smiled. “Do you want some tea?”

“
Nee
.” She wasn't hungry or thirsty. “I need to get this rug done. I don't want to get behind on
mei
work for Abigail.”

“So you can focus on working for Sol.”

Irene kept her head down and picked up the sewing again. But when she started stitching, she pricked her finger. “Ouch!” She dropped the needle and put her finger to her mouth.

Mamm
leaned back in her chair and looked at Irene, her eyes serious behind her silver-framed glasses. “Are you sure you're going to be okay working with him?”

Irene pulled her finger away. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“I don't know. You seem . . . unsettled. Especially when I mentioned him.” The corners of
Mamm
's mouth turned down slightly. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Irene knew she couldn't lie to her mother. “I don't know.”

Mamm
's brow shot up. “Irene, if I had known you and Sol had problems I never would have suggested—”

“It's not what you think,” Irene said, raising her hand. “I'll
admit, there was a time I liked him. Before he was put into the bann.”

“You did?”

“
Ya.
I was attracted to him.”
I'm still attracted to him.
She shrugged, trying to be casual. “He is very
schee
.”

“But Irene, he was so troubled.”

“I didn't realize that at the time. Or maybe I did and had blinders on.”

Mamm
nodded. “If anyone can understand what that's like, it's me.”

“I didn't know everything about him, though. And what he confessed in church . . . I was shocked. And I promised myself I would stay away from him.”

“Then I
geh
pushing you two together.”

“I'm glad you did.” She leaned forward, her sore finger forgotten. “You were right. Sol does need someone to reach out to him. He has changed. And he's trying to do better.”

“But?”
Mamm
asked.

Irene sat back in the chair. Dare she admit out loud what she had barely acknowledged in her mind? “The past is still there,” she said quietly. “What he did . . . who he was. That's a part of him.”

“And you're afraid of that.”

“I'm not afraid of him.”

“You're not afraid of the man he is now.”

“
Nee.
I'm not. But he keeps pushing me away.”

“Probably because he thinks that's the right thing to do.”

“What if it isn't? What if
Daed
had pushed you away? What would you have done?”

She paused. “I would have stood by him,” she said quietly.

Irene nodded. “Just like you are now.” She paused. “How did you handle what
Daed
did?”

“You mean dealing drugs?”
Mamm
picked up a stray piece of thread off the table. “Not very well. I was angry. Really angry. We had just gotten married and he had joined the church. I had already joined the previous year.”

“So you didn't know what he was doing?”

She looked at Irene for a long moment. “
Ya
,” she said softly. “I knew. Not exactly what was going on, but he was secretive. And he seemed to have more money than he should have from working for his family's bicycle repair business. Yet I never questioned him about it. I was young and in love. When you care about someone, you can be blind to the truth.”

“When did you find out what he was really doing?”

“When I was pregnant with you. He confessed everything. He said that now that we were going to have a
familye
, he had to put that part of his life behind him. He quit the gang he'd been involved in, and said he was never going to sell drugs again. And I believed him. But then there was the day Andrew was eleven and you were thirteen . . .” She got up from the table and went to the counter. “I don't feel right telling you these things, Irene. Your father isn't here to defend himself. He's also not that man anymore.”

“How do you know? How do you know he's been faithful to you while he's been away?” She shouldn't press, but she needed answers. For a good part of her life she had thought her father was one man, only to discover he was different. “How are you sure he hasn't decided to forget about us and move on with his life?”

“Because of his letters. If he had . . . if
yer vatter
had moved on from us, he wouldn't still be writing them. He takes a risk with every letter he sends.” She folded a dish towel and placed it next to the sink before turning to face Irene. “But even if he didn't write, even if I never heard from him again, I have faith in him.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to.” She sat back down. “When you love somebody, you take the
gut
with the bad. Even though Bartholomew made mistakes, that didn't mean he was a bad man. When he was arrested he had confessed his sin to the bishop. Not to the entire church, because he didn't want them to be involved. If they knew what he'd done, then the gang of drug dealers might go after them. But he made his confession. He's paying the consequences for his mistakes.”

“So are we.”

Mamm
's gaze misted. “
Ya.
And I'm sorry about that. I know
yer vatter
is too. It might be hard to believe, but I know this has strengthened us. The hardship on the family, it's made all of us stronger and more connected.” She wiped her finger underneath her nose. “I can't tell you what to do about Sol. I just knew in
mei
heart that while
yer daed
was troubled, he was
gut
deep inside. And when we were together he proved that to me. You do have some
gut
memories of him,
ya
?”

Irene felt tears well up in her eyes. “
Ya
.” She remembered how her father used to walk with her on the beach and they'd look for seashells. Or they'd watch the gulls as they soared and dove into the ocean. Irene had been mesmerized by their graceful flight and could have watched them all day.
Daed
had never rushed her, never said, “Okay, that's enough.” He let her watch them until she was ready to go. Then he would pick her up in his arms and carry her on his shoulders. She'd felt invincible when he did that, like she could touch the birds, or even the clouds if she wanted to.

“I love you, Irene,” he would say, at least once a day, if not more. Which was why it had hurt so much when he left, when she thought he had chosen another woman over her mother. The pain
was still there now that she knew the truth, but it was a different pain. A longing to see him again. “I do have
gut
memories.”

“Then hang on to them, like I do.”

Irene's eyes stung with tears. “If you had it to do all over again, would you marry
Daed
? Knowing what you know now?”

Her mother looked down at her lap for a long moment, so long that Irene was suddenly afraid of the answer. When
Mamm
finally looked up, she said, “
Ya.
I'd do it all over again. Not only because
yer vatter
gave me you and Andrew, but because I love him.”

Breathing out a relieved sigh, Irene nodded. “I understand.”

“I'm glad you do. Irene, pray about Sol, and
yer
feelings for him. Ask God what he wants from you, and what you should do. After knowing the truth about him and his past, you wouldn't have these feelings for him if there wasn't a reason. You have a kind heart. You need to let God lead it.”
Mamm
rose from the chair and left the kitchen.

Irene tried to resume her sewing, but pricked her fingers several more times as her thoughts about her father and Sol melded together. When she finally finished the last stitch, she folded the rug and put it in the living room.

She went upstairs and readied for bed. Before she got under the covers she sank to her knees, and she prayed—for Sol and for her father.

Bartholomew walked out of work that evening, his back sore from working the twelve-hour shift. He would pick up another twelve hours tomorrow working for one of his coworkers who had a wedding to attend. “That's Jack,” the man said to another
one of their coworkers as he pointed to Bartholomew. “Always ready to help a guy out.”

He reached his car and bent backward, hearing the crack in his lower torso. He inserted the key in the lock.

“Jack.”

Bartholomew jumped at the sound of Mike's voice. He turned to see the federal marshal looking at him, his lantern-jawed face the sternest Bartholomew had ever seen it. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

“We need to talk.”

The knot turned into a cold, dead lump. His keys hit the ground. “Did something happen to Naomi? To my kids?”

“No,” Mike said. “Not yet.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “How could you be so stupid?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We know you've been in contact with your wife.”

Bartholomew stilled. How did they know? He and Naomi had been so careful—

“It has to stop.” Mike looked at him, the anger sliding from his face. He blew out a long breath. “Hey, man, I'm sorry. I get it. I'm married too, you know. If I had to cut off contact with Marley . . . I don't know what I'd do. But you know what you signed up for. You agreed to stay in witness protection to keep your family safe. You've been putting them in jeopardy.”

“I don't see how a few letters could do that.”

“Because you underestimate your enemy. Their network is wide and they will never forget your betrayal. Until we have all the major players in custody, you're a marked man. Do you want that target on your wife and kids?”

Bartholomew slumped against the car. “You know I don't.”

“Then we're clear. No more letters.”

Bartholomew swallowed. “But—”

“Glad we cleared that up.” Then he paused. “We want this to be over as much as you do.”

I doubt that.
Mike turned around and left.