A Love Made New (7 page)

A
s Abigail waited on customers in the store one day in late February, she thought about how January and now most of February had come and gone. Each day had folded into another with almost icy boredom. She knew she should be thankful for a respite after what had seemed like an endless barrage of grief and pain.

Her rug business was going well, though—almost too well. She was having trouble keeping up with the orders even with Irene's help. And Sadie was still nagging her to do a better job of keeping track of her business records. But Abigail had never had a head for business, and as winter stretched on, her growing apathy didn't help.

Not only had her listlessness not improved, but resentment had reared up a week before Valentine's Day when she opened a shipment of Valentine's Day cards. “We're selling these now?” she'd asked Sadie.

Sadie nodded, picking up one of the cards. “Just a few. I ordered them a bit late, but Joanna has made some special chocolates for
the holiday too. Nothing too fancy.” She looked at Abigail before setting the card back in the box. “I can put these out,” she said, reaching for the box.

Abigail had caught the flash of pity in her sister's eyes. Which was ridiculous. It had been months since she and Joel broke up. Asa had left her alone, too, except for occasionally nodding and smiling at her in church. That cemented in her mind that his earlier attention had been because he was considerate. There was no deeper meaning than that.

“I can set them out,” she said, wishing she felt as cheerful as she sounded. Then she smiled. And she kept that smile on her face as she rang up the first customer who eagerly chose a card along with some candy for his sweetheart.

Now with March drawing closer, Abigail spent more time in her room weaving and less time in the store. Business had trailed off a bit, and she used the time to work. It was easier not to think about how alone she felt when she was working.

On Saturday afternoon she sat on the edge of her bed, unable to bring herself to work on another rug. Instead she stared at the wooden loom frame across the room. She'd had it for several months, but she couldn't summon the interest in trying it out. She pulled her gaze away, got up from the bed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She was bored and lonely—and that usually propelled her to find something to eat.

She glanced out the kitchen window. Snow was falling in heavy layers on the ground, much like it had most of the winter, with only a couple of thaws that never completely melted all the snow. Sadie and Aden were manning the store. Abigail glanced at the pantry, then at her body. She hadn't gained any more weight, but she hadn't lost any either. Eating a snack when she'd had lunch a couple of hours ago was a bad idea.

Forcing herself not to look at the pantry, she sat down at the table and ran her finger over the polished wood. Loneliness once again crept over her. She was distancing herself from her sisters, even from her friends. But that wasn't what caused this deep ache in her heart. She missed her parents. She wished
Mamm
was here. That she could talk to her about the emptiness she couldn't escape.

Then again, she knew what
Mamm
would say.
There's a lesson to be learned from this, Abigail. And once you've learned it, you will be stronger than before.

What was there to learn from having her heart smashed into pieces? From seeing the man she had loved in love with someone else? Seeing her sisters happy and living life and feeling guilty for resenting their happiness? Most of all, feeling paralyzed to do anything about it?

Abigail shot up from the chair and opened the pantry door, giving in to the craving with mindless fervor. She pushed aside the flour and sugar containers and reached all the way back for her hidden stash. When she found the pile of candy bars, she didn't even bother to go back to the table—she grabbed the first one and ripped it open. Chocolate and sugar melted in her mouth, temporarily soothing her hurt and frustration. That's how the cycle had been lately—momentary relief followed by guilt and self-loathing. Knowing that didn't keep her from cramming the rest of the candy in her mouth as she shut the pantry door—at the same time the back door opened.

A frigid blast of air slammed into her. She flinched, her mouth full of chocolate. She stilled mid-chew when she saw Asa standing in the doorway to the mudroom.

The last thing Asa expected to see when he walked into the Schrocks' house was Abigail gaping at him with wide eyes, a chocolate bar poking out of her mouth—and looking adorable. He stifled a sigh at how fast his resolve disappeared and shut the door to keep out the frigid cold. On the way over he had promised himself he wouldn't be affected by her. Since Andrew's wedding, he'd forced himself to leave her alone. God had been silent on the matter and Asa figured he must have misinterpreted his feelings for Abigail, especially since nothing bad had happened when he didn't seek her out. Unlike when he'd been disobedient in Indiana, his life hadn't fallen apart.

Keeping his distance had also given him perspective. There wasn't a deep, connecting attraction between them. He had merely sympathized with her—she had experienced a lot of disappointment lately and he knew what that was like. Of course, none of that changed the fact that he still thought she was cute.

He continued to look at her, his heart hammering in his chest. He was such a liar. He felt deeply for Abigail, and that was never more acute until this moment when he was in close proximity to her after keeping so much distance between them.

He was also filled with dread. He hadn't wanted to see her, not under these circumstances. He thought she'd be at the store, and he'd stopped there first. When Sadie said Abigail was home and to not bother knocking when he went inside, he hadn't known Abigail would be in the kitchen. He thought he'd have a few more minutes to prepare himself, to think of what to say to her. Because that morning when he'd overheard Joel talking to a mutual friend at work about what he planned to do tomorrow at church, Asa knew he had to talk to her.

Her wide eyes narrowed, but she kept her gaze on him. It took him a second, but he recognized the emotion in her eyes
and it surprised him. Defiance. She went back to chewing her candy bar, slowly and with a lift of her chin. When she finished that one, she unwrapped a second one, broke off a piece, and put it into her mouth.

There wasn't anything intimate in the way she was eating or how she was looking at him. But there was some sort of challenge going on that he didn't understand, as if she was daring him to say something about her eating two chocolate bars in succession. He didn't care if she ate a whole box. What he did care about was her reaction to Joel's news.

He took off his hat. “Hi, Abigail,” he said, unable to think of a better way to start the conversation.

She finished chewing, still staring at him. Then she paused before tossing the rest of the candy bar in the trash. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Hi.”

He noticed she had a smudge of chocolate on the corner of her lip. His arm lifted and he realized he was about to walk over and wipe it off her mouth with his thumb. He forced his hand to his side. He was back to losing all common sense when he was around her—something he'd never had to deal with before.

“Do you need something, Asa?”

He gripped the rim of his hat. Maybe he shouldn't say anything. The situation wasn't his business. But then he imagined Abigail's face in church tomorrow when she heard about Joel and Rebecca, and he couldn't walk away even though he wanted to. “I need to talk to you.” He glanced at the chairs around the table. “We should probably sit down.”

He saw a spark of worry in her eyes. “Why?”

He pulled out a chair for her. “I'll tell you once you sit down.”

“Asa, just tell me what's wrong.”

“I'll tell you when you sit down.” He parked himself in a second chair and looked up at her.

“Now you've got me worried.” She sat down next to him, and he wondered if she noticed she was so close he could touch her hand if he wanted to.
And I want to.
He bent the brim of his hat until he thought he'd crease it permanently. Which was hard to do with a stiff Amish hat. He pulled in a breath. “Abigail . . . I heard something at work today.”

Her face paled. “What?” Then she frowned. “Is it about Joel?”

Now he really wished he hadn't come here. He kept a grip on his hat as he said, “Joel and Rebecca are announcing their engagement tomorrow.”

The rest of the color drained from Abigail's face. She didn't move. The small smear of chocolate now shined like a brown beacon from the corner of her lip. He waited for her to say something. Even a cough would be good right now. Anything but the catatonic reaction she was having now. Then she spoke. “I . . .” The garbled word sounded like it was forced from her lips.

His heart swelled with compassion. Now he was glad he'd ignored his cowardly instincts and told her ahead of time. “I'm sorry.”

She looked down at her lap. “
Danki
. . . for . . . telling . . . me.”

This wasn't good. He leaned forward and looked in her eyes. “Abigail? Are you okay?”

She didn't respond.

Take her hand.

His whole body jerked and he nearly dropped his hat. This was the first time he'd heard God's voice in months. Before he returned to Birch Creek, he'd never heard God speak in actual words. Now it was as though his brain was tuned in to a divine frequency.
I don't think I should—

Take her hand.

An unseen force seemed to propel him to put his hat on the table. Or maybe it was his own volition—he was starting to get the two confused lately. He glanced at Abigail's lap. Her hands lay there, limply, right beneath the gentle swell of her abdomen. He leaned forward and covered his hand over her plump fingers.

She still didn't move.

At least she wasn't pushing him away. He curled his hand around hers. “I really am sorry. I thought you should know so you wouldn't be surprised in church tomorrow.”

Abigail nodded.

Her lack of reaction gave him time to look at their hands entwined together. She had the softest hands, especially the tops of her fingers. He moved his thumb across the inside of her palm.

That seemed to bring her back from whatever void she'd gone to. She pulled her hand from his and jumped up from the chair. “I'm sorry, Asa,” she said, her lips curling into a strained half-smile. “I've been rude. Do you want anything to drink? To eat? I can make
kaffee
, we've got, uh, candy bars . . .”

He rose from the chair and went to her. “
Nee.
And you haven't been rude.”

“
Ya
, I have.” She put the heel of her hand on her forehead, not looking at him, and her pretend smile disappeared. “I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I know how to be hospitable.”

“Abigail, it's okay.”

“
Nee
, it's not.” She finally looked at him. “But trust me, I'm over Joel. I'm happy for him and Rebecca. I really am. I should have expected it, anyway. It's not like they've been secret about their relationship.”

His heart went out to her. The words had poured out of her like water rushing over a cliff.

“I should probably check to see if Sadie needs help at the store.” She moved past Asa without looking at him. “I . . . I hope you don't mind seeing
yerself
out.” Then she opened the door and disappeared into the blowing snow.