A Love Made New (24 page)

However, instead of Asa, Susanna stood there. Pretty, petite Susanna. Abigail could see how Susanna and Asa made a striking couple.

“Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you, if that's all right.”

Abigail's first response was to say no. She didn't want to deal with her or Asa today. But it wasn't Susanna's fault that Asa had kept her a secret from Abigail. “Come in,” Abigail said, opening the door wider.

Susanna stepped inside. She looked around the living room. “You have a lovely place.”

“
Danki
. How did you find out where I lived?”

“I asked Naomi.”

The two women stood there for a moment, Susanna not meeting Abigail's gaze, Abigail wondering why she had let the woman in her house. Then remembering herself she said, “Do you want something to drink? I can make some tea, and we have some brownies in the kitchen.” She marveled at how she could talk normally to Asa's fiancée—ex-fiancée—like she was there for a normal visit.

“
Nee.
I'm not hungry.”

Neither was Abigail, but that didn't mean she wasn't craving those brownies right now. “We can sit down.” She gestured to the couch and they both sat.

Susanna folded her hands on her lap. Everything about her was compact and graceful. She looked at Abigail. “I'm sorry I surprised you by coming to Birch Creek.”

Abigail frowned. She was apologizing?

“Asa's mother can be very persuasive, and I'm not
gut
about telling people
nee
. I should have refused to come with her.”

“You didn't want to see Asa?”

Susanna shook her head. “
Nee.
Not because of what you might think. Asa and I were engaged, but we shouldn't have been. We were never right for each other.”

Abigail was confused. “Then why were you engaged?”

“We lived next door to each other and our mothers were really close friends. It was
mei mamm
who suggested Asa come over one evening for supper, and then we ended up talking afterward.” She smiled. “He's very
schee
and nice, but you already know that. It was easy for us to start dating. Then both our mothers got involved. They started planning the wedding almost after our second date. And actually for a while we really thought we were in love. We got along very well. We were comfortable around each other.” She folded her lips in. “But there wasn't a spark. I know Asa didn't feel much either, but he never said anything. He's easygoing and likes to see people happy, sometimes at his own expense. So I knew I'd have to be the one to break it off.”

“But I thought he broke up with you?”

“He did. And I was too sick to tell him I was relieved. I wrote to him and explained that I was fine with our breakup.
That he did us both a favor. Turns out he never read
mei
letters.” She looked at Abigail. “He carried a lot of guilt about how our relationship ended, even though he was following God's will. So I am glad that I got to talk to him and straighten things out. We're in a
gut
place now.”

For some reason, Abigail was glad to hear that. Now that she knew Susanna's side of the story, her resentment disappeared. Asa had been telling Abigail the truth. He hadn't betrayed her like Joel had.

But that didn't mean everything would be fine between them.

“He loves you, Abigail,” Susanna suddenly said.

Abigail froze. “How do you know that?”

“He told me. And I can see it in his eyes when he talks about you. I know you're confused about what his
mamm
said, and I don't blame you. She really wanted the two of us to get married. But I think part of the reason Asa was sent to Birch Creek was to be with you.”

Her words made Abigail skeptical. God wouldn't turn a man's entire life upside down for Abigail's sake. She wasn't Asa's reward for his obedience. Whatever brought Asa to Birch Creek, she doubted she was a part of it.

“Give him another chance, Abigail. I've never seen him like this. Not being with you is breaking his heart.”

Abigail froze at the words, his pain causing her pain. “I don't know if I can.”

“Why not? All of this has been a misunderstanding. It hasn't changed how he feels about you.” She peered at her. “Or how you feel about him.”

Glancing down, Abigail said, “I care about him. A lot.”

Susanna stood. “I should be getting back. Naomi is the only one who knows I'm here, and Asa's mother will start asking
where I went. Please think about what I said. I want Asa to be happy, and I believe he will be with you.”

Abigail thanked Susanna and showed her out. Even though it was still daylight out, all she wanted to do was hide under the covers. Instead she sat on the sofa and thought about what Susanna said. Asa loved her. And somewhere deep inside Abigail knew it was the truth, just like she knew her feelings for him ran deeper than just caring. She loved him too.

It's not enough . . . for either of us.

All this time Asa believed he was following God's will. He had obeyed the Lord, even though it had cost him everything. His mind and heart had been open to God. When was the last time Abigail had been that vulnerable with the Lord?

She had been filled with hurt, grief, and insecurity. But instead of turning to God, she had put her faith in Joel, then immediately turned to Asa with little resistance. It had been easy to do. It would also be easy to get back together with him.

But she couldn't depend on Asa to heal her pain and solve her problems, and it wasn't fair to expect him to. She was tired of being hurt and confused. She closed her eyes, her heart crying out to God.
Lord . . . help me.

She felt a nudge deep inside her soul. She went upstairs and stared at her loom. At the box of materials on the floor next to it that remained untouched. She'd been afraid to use this loom because while her mother had faith in her abilities, she didn't. Making rugs had been easy. Comfortable. Using an intricate loom would be difficult. She would make many mistakes until she created something worthwhile.

Abigail took the loom to the center of the room. Chose yarn from the box, then took the shuttle and the shed stick—and started to weave.

A
sa stood next to his mother as the taxi pulled into Andrew's driveway. He had taken the day off to spend with her and Susanna before they left for Shipshe. But even as he tried to focus on visiting with
Mamm
, he couldn't keep his mind off Abigail.

The driver turned off the engine and got out of the car. “Can I help you with your bags?” the tall, thin man said, adjusting the bill of his Cleveland Indians baseball cap.

Asa was about to tell him no when Susanna spoke. “Yes, please.” She turned to Asa. “Good-bye,” she said, giving him a smile. “I'll pray for you and Abigail.”

“
Danki
.” Despite everything, he would miss her. “I'll pray for you too.”

She gave him a short wave as the driver picked up her small suitcase. Asa turned to
Mamm
, who dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I really thought you would be coming back with me.”

“
Mamm
,” he said, then gave her a hug, not caring if anyone saw him. He pulled away. “I'll come to visit you and
Daed
and
mei schwesters
. I promise. But I have to stay here.”

“I know.” She sniffed and put her handkerchief in her purse. “That doesn't mean I won't miss you. Or write to you. But this time promise me you'll read
mei
letters.”

“I promise.” He picked up her suitcase and took it to the car. “Take care of
yerself
,” he said.

“You too,
sohn
.” She patted his cheek, then got into the backseat with Susanna.

He waved as the car pulled out of the driveway. He would miss his mother, but he was glad she was heading back home. It was still morning and he had time to seek out Abigail. He couldn't leave things the way they were. He had prayed all last night, and to his irritation God was silent. Why had he withdrawn now, when Asa needed his guidance the most? The only conclusion he'd drawn was that God wanted him to go after Abigail. Asa wanted to go after Abigail. He was ready to do anything to get her back.

Naomi sighed as the taxi driver pulled into the post office. She'd spent the time during the drive here to pray for Asa and Abigail. She and Asa's mother had talked last night, and while Asa's mother had said she accepted that her son wasn't going to marry the woman she thought was perfect for him, Naomi could tell she was still wrestling with her disappointment. Ordinarily Naomi would have wanted her friend to stay longer, but it was good that she and Susanna had gone back to Shipshewana. Asa needed to work things out with Abigail without anyone else's interference. She had come to love Abigail as if she were a daughter, and Asa had always been an unofficial member of the family.

Then there were Irene and Sol. That situation had ended up
being more complicated than she ever thought. Irene clearly had feelings for him. But Sol was troubled. Then again, Bartholomew had been too. She knew firsthand the miracles God could work in someone's life. Bartholomew had turned himself around. Naomi had to believe Sol could, too, and she had to let Irene trust her own judgment.

The driver pulled the car into a parking space. “I'll only be a minute,” Naomi said to him. He nodded and pulled out his phone.

As she walked into the post office, a familiar anticipation came over her. She had to put her adult children into God's hands. Meanwhile, at least she had Bartholomew's letters to look forward to. The last time she'd heard from him was back in January, after Andrew's wedding. It wasn't unusual for him to go for a few months without writing. If he sent too many letters, he might cast suspicion. But surely there would be a letter waiting for her in the post office box today. She inserted the key, opened the small door, and smiled.

But a few moments later, her world crashed. The letter shook in her hands. She couldn't believe what she was reading. How could this be happening?

“Are you all right, ma'am?” said the woman standing next to her.

Naomi glanced and saw the woman had her key inserted in the lock of her own post office box but hadn't opened it. Realizing she needed to gain her composure so she wouldn't draw any more attention to herself, she started to say she was fine. But she couldn't form the words. All she wanted to do was tell the woman to mind her own business. Instead Naomi pressed her teeth against her bottom lip and shook her head.

The woman turned to her, concern present on her face. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Knowing she was perilously close to breaking down, Naomi shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice quavering. “There's nothing anyone can do.” She rushed outside, her lungs straining for air. She glanced at the driver of the taxi that brought her here. He was waiting in the car, looking at his phone. She took the opportunity to walk around to the side of the post office where she couldn't be seen by anyone. The cold, brutal wind sliced through her, but she didn't care. She looked at the letter in her hands and read the words over again.

Naomi, my love. This will be my last letter. I wish I could explain why, but I can't. You know how this works. I'm sorry that I've failed you again. Please pray that we will be together soon. Always remember that I love you.

Bartholomew

How could this be his last letter? And out of the blue like this, with no warning? She had always known that keeping up their correspondence was risky and against the rules they had agreed to when Bartholomew was put into witness protection. Something must have happened to keep him from writing. And of course he couldn't give her an explanation. She was supposed to accept the circumstances, the way she had accepted everything else in their lives, especially their separation.

But she couldn't accept this. She couldn't accept not having any contact with the man she loved. God had promised her years ago that she and Bartholomew would be reunited. And she had held on to that promise, believing that because they were still able to communicate that God was with both of them. And now . . . now the doubts started setting in. The weariness.
The empty hole in her heart deepened as she covered her face with her hands and started to cry. “Why, God?” she whispered through her tears. “Haven't I been faithful enough? Have you forsaken me and
mei
husband?”

There was no answer in the brisk wind that whipped around her body. She started to shake, her nose and fingers stiff with cold. She couldn't stay out here much longer. Forcing herself to gain control of her emotions, she took a tissue out of her purse, wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, then went back to the taxi.

“Get what you needed?” the man said, setting his phone on the passenger seat.

Naomi gave him a curt nod, then stared out the window as he drove her home. She didn't say anything else, her mind still trying to grasp that she didn't know when or if she would ever hear from Bartholomew again.

When she arrived home, she paid the driver and went to the front door. She took in a deep breath. The cold burned her lungs. She couldn't let her children see her like this. Yes, they were adults, but she still had a responsibility not to show them her weakness or lack of faith. She vowed to be strong the day they took Bartholomew away, and so far she had. Irene and Andrew had lost their father. They weren't going to lose their mother too. She straightened her shoulders and walked to the kitchen. Irene and Joanna were there, surrounded by baking supplies on the table—flour, a rolling pin, a bowl, oil, and a rotary beater.

“How do you get the dough so thin?” Irene asked as she skimmed the roller across the floured ball of dough.

“You need to apply a little more pressure. But not too much.” Joanna took the pin from Irene and expertly rolled out the crust. Before it was completely flat she handed it to Irene. “Now you try.”

Naomi didn't move, watching her daughter and daughter-in-law as they worked on the pie crust together. Normally this would make her smile, the two of them doing a simple task and being at such ease with each other. Joanna had suffered several blows in the past year, but she was coming into her own as Andrew's wife. Yet instead of being happy, she choked back tears. She must have made a noise, because both Irene and Joanna looked up.

Irene smiled. “Hi,
Mamm
. We didn't hear you come in.” As soon as she spoke, she frowned and put down the rolling pin. As she hurried toward Naomi she said, “
Mamm
? What's wrong?”

“
Nix
.” But Naomi could barely get the word out.

“You're shaking.”

“Because I'm cold.” She tried to muster a smile, but she couldn't. All her strength seemed to leave her body.

Irene put her arm around Naomi's shoulders and guided her to the table. Naomi didn't protest and sat down while Joanna brought her a glass of water. Both women sat next to her and Naomi saw them exchange a glance. Then Joanna stood up. “I should
geh
and let you two talk,” she said.

Naomi shook her head. “You're a member of this
familye
. You know what happened to
mei
husband. There are
nee
secrets here.” She turned to Irene. She hadn't expected to reveal why she was upset, but she couldn't stay silent. And Irene had a right to know what was going on, now that she was aware of Bartholomew's circumstances. “I got a letter from
yer vatter
. It's . . . his last one to me.”

“What?” Irene asked, her brow lifting. “Why?”

“I don't know.”
Always remember that I love you.
She tried to keep those words in her heart, where she always kept his written declarations of love. But maybe it was a lie. Maybe he couldn't
write to her because he found someone else. Maybe the years apart and the years of him living in the
Englisch
world had finally broken him—and in turn broke them. She started to shake again.

“
Mamm
,” Irene said, “You're pale and trembling. You need to lie down.”

“
Nee
.”

“There's something seriously wrong. Please, do as I say.”

She didn't have the strength or desire to argue. Naomi rose from the table, feeling like she was going through the motions. She went up to her room, Irene close behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands over and over. “I just want to be alone,” she whispered.

“I don't think that's a good idea right now.”

She snapped her head up and glared at Irene. “I said leave me alone!”

Irene looked shocked. But she simply nodded and backed out of the room, then shut the door.

I should apologize . . . I shouldn't take
mei
anger out on her.
But Naomi couldn't hold it in anymore. She started to cry again . . . and wondered if she'd ever stop.