A Love Made New (4 page)

Wow. She was soft. Very soft. She also smelled good, a sweet combination of vanilla and peppermint. His arm tightened around her. Her plump cheeks were flushed with cold. His fingers gathered a bit of her dress as he squeezed her side, her face inches from his. He was close enough to kiss her. He
wanted
to kiss her.

She wriggled in his grasp. “What are you doing?”

He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He almost couldn't breathe. Holding her like this . . . there were no words for how he felt.

“Asa?”

Her urgent tone took him out of his daze. He released her. “Uh, sorry.” But he wasn't, not really. He locked his eyes with hers. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. Wishing and hoping that the reason she was still there, that she was standing in the cold gazing at him, was that she felt it, too, the tug of an invisible cord tying them together.

Then she backed away, stepping over the dead tree. Her eyes still wide with what he could now see was confusion, she turned and left.

Asa didn't follow. Instead he looked up at the treetops. “Okay, Lord. I have
nee
idea what I'm doing.” Abigail had to think he was
ab im kopp
. After everything that had happened in the past few months, he probably was.

He started back toward the Schrocks' house, determined to avoid Abigail. He was out of line holding her the way he had. Although she wasn't with Joel, she hadn't shown an inkling of interest in Asa, either. He didn't want to scare her away.

But it was hard when he was so scared himself. His feelings frightened him. The intensity, the unexpectedness, and the way he felt and heard God pushing him toward her. He wished he knew why. He wished he could step back and look at the situation logically, the way he usually did. Yet when it came to Abigail, logic was
not
what came to mind.

When he reached the house, he went inside the mudroom and removed his coat and wet boots. He could hear the murmur of the wedding guests as they ate and visited, sounding like they were having a good time. As he passed through the kitchen, he saw Sadie, Irene, Rhoda Troyer, and Andrew's mother, Naomi, cutting a variety of pies.

He walked into the living room, intent on visiting with the rest of the wedding guests so he could put Abigail out of his mind. But he'd taken only two steps forward when he saw her, separate from everyone else, and his heart started hammering in his chest. And although he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't keep himself from going to her again, even though she had left him only moments before. She was alone . . . and he needed to let her know she didn't have to be.

W
hen Irene went back inside the Schrocks' house after talking to Abigail, people were milling about in the living room, the low hum of conversation punctuated with a loud laugh or two. It was crowded in there, so she decided to go back into the kitchen to offer help. But she delayed when she saw her mother alone near the stairs in the living room. That wasn't like
Mamm
. She was always social at gatherings and weddings. Irene went to her, frowning a bit at her mother's downcast eyes.
“Mamm?”
She touched her mother's shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

Mamm
turned to Irene, her eyes shiny behind her wire-framed glasses. Then she shook her head. “Don't worry. Everything is fine.” She looked over at Joanna and Andrew, who were visiting with a few of their friends. “It's
mei sohn
's wedding day, and he's married a wonderful woman. I'm happy for both of them.”

“But?”

“But . . . I wish
yer vatter
was here.”

Irene nodded. She wished
Daed
was here too. Familiar resentment burrowed in her heart. A force of habit she'd developed
over more than a decade. She calmed the feeling by reminding herself that what she had believed since she was thirteen years old wasn't true. Her father hadn't abandoned her, Andrew, and
Mamm
for another woman. Not that the real reason he left was much better. But he hadn't betrayed their family. He had never forsaken his love for
Mamm
—and according to her mother, he had never stopped loving his children. Yet it would take more than the truth and a few reassurances from
Mamm
to make her fully believe it. “Have you heard from him lately?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Mamm
shook her head. “Not since I told him about the wedding. The
second
wedding,” she said, a small smile coming over her face. “I'm so relieved this one went through.”

“Me too.”

“It was
gut
that Andrew and Joanna waited until they were ready.”

Irene agreed. She nodded her head in her brother's direction. “They seem at ease with each other, don't they?”

“As they should.”
Mamm
glanced at Irene. “I know. It wasn't always that way. But seeing them so happy . . . I now know they've healed.”

“
Ya.
I think they have too.” She scanned the room. The entire Amish community of Birch Creek had gathered to celebrate. Except for one person—their former bishop, Emmanuel Troyer. As soon as she thought of his name, she spied his son, Solomon.

Against her will, her heart did a small flip.

She turned away, irritated. At one time she would have been glad for his attention, for a cheeky smile that made her believe he was thinking only of her, or for a playful wink of his green eyes. Irene didn't want her heart to go out to him. She once had
hopes for a relationship with Sol, back before he was put in the bann and his father left the community. But he hadn't showed any interest in her since that time, and now she knew his flirting had been just a game to him. He couldn't be trusted.

Then again, could any man?

She glanced at her brother again. He was a good man. There were many good men in Birch Creek, including Sol's brother, Aden. He had changed since becoming part of the Schrock family.

Supposedly, Sol had changed too. She rubbed the back of her hand, remembering Andrew and Joanna's first wedding last fall. Joanna had left Andrew before exchanging vows, devastating him. Feeling helpless to do anything, Irene had gone outside. Sol had been there. He had checked to make sure she was okay. A small act of kindness, but it had meant so much.

Irene couldn't refrain from looking at him again. He was sitting next to his friend Jalon Chupp, who had his own bad reputation to contend with. But he hadn't gone to the same extremes Sol had. He hadn't been put in the bann, and he hadn't been a thief.

Sol lifted his head and his eyes met hers. She wanted to look away, but something kept her gaze fixed to his. He seemed sad, like he was on the outside looking in, even though he was sitting in a room filled with people. As soon as she had the thought, he broke eye contact.

“I should help Sadie and the rest of the women in the kitchen,”
Mamm
said. “Are you coming?”

Irene glanced at Sol again. She hoped one day he would find happiness. True happiness. She had a feeling that was something he hadn't experienced much of in his life. “
Ya
,” she said, pulling her gaze away from him. “I'm coming.”

Abigail stood in the corner of the living room, trying to get warm. If she had any sense, she would move over by the woodstove and let the heat from the fire seep through her bones. But there was a small gathering of people huddled there, visiting and enjoying themselves. She didn't want to be a killjoy and she didn't feel like talking to anyone.

But there was more to her reluctance to join the wedding guests than being considerate and wanting her space. Not only was she shaking on the outside, but she was shivering on the inside. Asa Bontrager had touched her. Granted, he was keeping her from falling, but he could have let go of her right away. Her cheeks burned at the memory of him squeezing her side. Had he noticed how fleshy she was? How fat she had gotten? Of course he had—she couldn't hide her weight gain from anyone.

Truth was, she'd struggled with her weight all her life. It had been easier when she was younger. She had never been stick-skinny, but she had been on the thin side. When she turned sixteen, something had happened to her body and her metabolism. She had to work extra hard at her chores and eat less food than her sisters. Sometimes she went on secret crash diets to stay slim, making sure no one noticed that she pushed food around on the plate so it appeared she had eaten more than she actually had, or she would volunteer to wash dishes so no one would know she hadn't finished her meal. It was why she had been so aware of Joanna not eating after the accident. Her sister had become dangerously thin, while Abigail had gained weight. Now Joanna was at a healthy weight, and Abigail continued to gain.

She still wasn't sure if her weight had any bearing on Joel breaking up with her. She had never asked. But Rebecca was
thin, even thinner than Abigail was when she and Joel started dating. At one point she was so tired of stressing about it that she forced herself not to dwell on her chubby figure. But Asa brought that to the fore when he grabbed her.

And yet, Asa touching her and making her aware of her weight wasn't what bothered her the most. It was the way he looked at her
while
he was touching her. Like he wanted to kiss her. Which couldn't be possible. She was upset and he was being a nice guy. He'd always been nice, even when they were kids. No, the smoky look she saw in his eyes had nothing to do with him wanting to kiss her and everything to do with the fact that she was tired, cranky, envious of her sisters, and possibly losing her mind.

She looked up and groaned inwardly. Asa was coming toward her. Why wouldn't the man leave her alone?

“Getting warmed up?” he asked when he reached her.

He was irritating. And endearing, which was driving her to distraction. The more he showed her kindness and concern, the bigger the hope that he wasn't just taking pity on her as she feared. At the same time, she didn't need this complication in her life. But how could she let him know without being rude? “I'm feeling better,” she said, deciding to be straightforward. She'd never been interested in playing mental or emotional games with people, and she wasn't about to start now. “You don't need to check on me anymore.”

“You sure?” One thick black eyebrow lifted, his voice filled with doubt. “You're still shivering.”

“I'll warm up soon.” She smiled as brightly as she could to prove it to him.

His eyebrow lowered and an intensity filled his eyes. “I'm not leaving until I know you're okay.”

Her smile slipped from her face. “Why do you care?” she whispered, needing an answer for his sudden and strange interest in her. When he paused, dread filled her.
I knew it. He does feel sorry for me. The jilted sister. The fat sister. The lonely sister—

“Because I do.” He moved closer. “Because to me you're worth caring about.”

That made her freeze in place. Once again the smoky warmth she'd seen in his eyes when he held her in the woods returned, along with a tickle in her belly. And in that moment she knew she could easily kiss Asa and not think twice about it.

“Asa!”

He gave her one last lingering look before turning around to see Christopher Beachy standing behind him. Asa, Andrew, and Christopher, along with a couple of other boys, used to pal around together when they were young.

“Been looking all over for you,” Christopher said, his mouth forming a grin above his light brown beard. He glanced past Asa's shoulder and nodded. “Hi, Abigail. Mind if we borrow him for a minute?”

Asa glanced at her, frowning with confusion. “I don't think—”

“That's fine, Christopher.” Abigail put her smile back on, relieved. “We were finished talking anyway.”

Asa gave her a look that definitely said he was
not
finished before Christopher dragged him off to a group of young men who were standing by Andrew. Abigail turned and headed for the kitchen, but she couldn't resist looking over her shoulder.

Asa was watching her. Then he grinned . . . and she nearly melted.

She turned from him and bumped into Karen Yoder, one of Joanna's friends. “I'm sorry,” she said, barely looking at her as
she rushed by. Instead of going to the kitchen she went into the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. Whatever she thought was going on with Asa wasn't real. She was still reeling from Joel's betrayal, still grieving her parents, still wishing for things that could never be. That was the only reason she felt so drawn to Asa, the one man in Birch Creek who had shown her little more than polite kindness. But kindness was all it was, nothing else. She had to remember that.