A Marriage of the Heart (32 page)

“No,” she pouted, feeling foolish.

“Suit yourself.”

He whistled as he buttoned the shirt, and she glared at him. For some reason she wanted to fight, to break his easy calm. Even as she thought it, though, her heart convicted her. He was her husband. She’d made him sweet corn, cut his hair, and thought about him more than she ever had any other man . . . so what was wrong with her?

He had his hand on the doorknob when she cried out, “Wait!”

“What?”

“I’ll go.”

“Great, let’s move.”

Abigail slipped off the bed and grabbed up her change purse, where she kept the household money her father gave her each month. She followed Joseph down the steps, pleased that she could go with him without worrying about supper. She’d been using the valuable recipe cards from Judith to a distinct advantage and had made great strides in the kitchen. She’d also found that she enjoyed both her own endeavors and the smiles of pleasure on Joseph’s face when he tried something new. Today she left ham and green beans and a fresh huckleberry pie warming on the stovetop as she hurried out the door.

Joseph brought Carl around, and she climbed into the buggy without assistance. They set off at a good trot.

“I’ve got to get that blade back to your
daed
, but I think we can squeeze in a bit of lunch if you’d like.” He slanted her a glance from his dark eyes, and she nodded in agreement.

It would be the first time they’d gone out together anywhere but church, and she thought it was both ironic and sad that they were having their first date weeks into their marriage. But she refused to be glum and set about chattering in the way she was used to doing to entertain a man. When she’d covered everything from the crops to the weather, Joseph laughed out loud and held up a placating hand.

“Whoa . . . please, Abby . . . you don’t have to talk just to entertain me.”

“I wasn’t,” she snapped, feeling embarrassed.

“Okay . . . let’s just say that I like your normal way of talking.”

“Which is what?”

“To the point.”

She huffed aloud. “I should not have come.”

He reached out a large hand and covered her own where they rested in her lap. “I’m sorry. I just want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I do,” she lied, then thought better of it. “At least—sometimes I do.”

He laughed, squeezing her hands, then letting go. “That’s better. I can see that we’re going to have to do more courting and playing until you feel more comfortable.”

“Well,” she admitted, “I do like to go out for lunch.”

“And where should we go?”

“Yoder’s Pantry,” she answered promptly.

“All right. Yoder’s it is.” He clucked to Carl to pick up the pace.

Abigail tried to avoid glancing in his direction and looked at the passing farms instead. The land was alive with the harvest; crops coming in, butchering time, work from sunup till sundown. But soon it would be over, and the time for the county fair would come around. She wondered if Joseph would take her and realized that it was the first time she’d have a canned vegetable to enter. The thought made her smile to herself, and the day suddenly became more than promising.

J
OSEPH CAUGHT THE SMELL OF FRESH MINT THAT DRIFTED
to him from her hair and tried to concentrate on his driving. In truth, he knew that her father wouldn’t like it if he’d known Joseph was planning to spend lunch in town. But time with one’s wife somehow outweighed a blade for the harvester, and he decided it was worth the possible irritation on the part of his father-in-law.

“So, you’re looking well today. That wine-colored blouse is becoming.” He sounded like a stilted old man, he thought ruefully. Why was he being so formal? She’d kept him at an effective distance of late, and he made a sudden decision to change that over lunch.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You look well too.”

“Fresh from the field?”

“Well . . .” She turned appraising blue eyes upon him.
“Ya.”

It was something, he considered.

They arrived in town in good time, and Joseph hitched Carl to the post outside Yoder’s. He came around and made a point to help Abby down, letting her slide against the warmth of his body for a brief moment. He was pleased to see a blush on her cheeks and caught her hand with goodwill as they entered the restaurant. Joseph noticed that there seemed to be some secret between his wife and the waitress who greeted them, as they both smiled and looked at him appraisingly.

“Joseph,” Abby said. “This is Tillie, a
gut
friend of mine. She helped get me my canning lessons.”

Joseph smiled. “Then I hope that you will be a good friend of mine too. I really appreciate your helping Abby. Her sweet corn was great.”

Tillie nodded with a happy smile and led them to a table near the window looking out onto the street.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked.

Joseph darted a look at Abby and thought how funny it was that he was having an actual first date with his wife. In his old life, the situation would have called for champagne, but he was more than happy to ask for hot tea. Abby did the same.

“So, this is a nice place,” Joseph remarked.

“Ya.”
Abby giggled. “Father had many a meal here before you came along.”

Joseph gave her his best smile. “Your cooking has really improved.”

“Thanks to you.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” he said, reaching across the table to catch her slender fingers in his hand. “It’s funny,” he said. “I forgot that the Amish don’t wear wedding bands or jewelry. I’d have liked to have given you an engagement ring.”

“For our very short engagement?”

“Why don’t we try to let that go?” he suggested. “You know, you’ve never considered that I might have been interested in marriage . . . and in you.”

“Really?” She blinked wide blue eyes.

“Really. Now let’s just concentrate on tea. Here it is.”

“What will you have?” Tillie asked. “The specials today are potato soup, stuffed peppers, and Ruth’s own sour cherry pie.”

“That all sounds good to me,” Joseph said, closing the menu, which he had yet to even glance at. He ignored Abby’s startled look. “I’m hungry,” he confessed.

“I’ll just have the soup and the pie.”

“Great. I’ll get that right out to you two newlyweds.”

Joseph saw Abby shoot a surprised look at her friend and smiled to himself. He lifted her fingertips to his lips and felt her try to pull away.

“Joseph! We’re in a public place, and my father is not around. You don’t have to pretend.”

He smiled at her. “I think we’re past pretending, Abby, don’t you?” He let her go, and she tucked her hands into the safety of her lap.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a long sip of his tea and watched her until she looked away out the window. Their food soon arrived, and he took pleasure in everything, but especially in watching Abby wriggle under his obvious attentions. It occurred to him that he’d never had such fun going out for lunch before.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I
T WAS MID-OCTOBER AND A BRIGHT, BEAUTIFUL MORNING
. But Abigail had seen the sun far too early for her liking, having been up half the night with a laboring sow. She had always felt more competent in working with the farm animals than she’d ever felt in the house, and the past night had been no exception.

The kitten, now a spry, streaking little thing that she’d named George, had kept her company while she’d let Joseph sleep. Now she came out of the barn, having finished tending to the mother and piglets. She wiped her filthy hands on her apron and blinked in the sunlight—then stopped dead, staring at the apparition of a lowslung blue convertible and a tousled red-haired
Englisch
girl with a devastating white smile. She was talking to Joseph, who leaned against the car door with familiarity, looking down into her face.

Abigail straightened her spine and walked toward her husband.

“Oh, here’s Abby now. Abby, this is Molly, a—friend from the past.”

Molly scooted her charming figure forward on the front seat and leaned to extend a hand to Abigail. “Hi,” she said with a bright smile.

“Hello,” Abigail returned, catching Joseph’s eye. “Joseph has mentioned you . . . your hair . . . It’s lovely.”

Molly giggled and looked at Joseph. “Thanks. It was always his favorite, but I guess he went and chose a blonde anyway. I can’t believe you’re married.”

Abigail was working herself up to a boil, and Joseph must have sensed it, because he straightened from the car and looped an arm around her waist.

“Married as can be,” he said with cheerful vigor.

“Well, I just was out this way and asked around for you. I’m staying at a bed-and-breakfast in town. I thought I’d stop for a few minutes,” Molly offered, clearly wanting an invitation to stay and visit.

Abigail tried to ignore the girl’s desire for hospitality, but her heart convicted her. “Would . . . you like to come in, then?” She felt Joseph’s surprise.

Molly smiled. “Of course. Thanks.” She reached out her slender arms to Joseph, who moved away from Abigail to swing her out of the car.

“I’ll just go on in and change my apron and leave you two—friends—alone for a moment,” Abigail said sweetly, though her heart was pounding. She marched past them and entered the kitchen, where she stood frozen for a moment. Then she found herself beginning to pray. “Please, Lord, give me patience, an extra measure, in this situation. Please bless this girl, Molly. Oh, Lord, please guard Joseph’s heart. Help him not to remember too much of his time with her.”

She realized that they were on the porch and rushed to change her apron. She was slicing apple bread when they came in and was grateful for something to focus on.

“Mmm . . . a real Amish kitchen . . .” Molly looked around her like she was in a museum. “I’d like to paint it, Joseph.”

“We like the light blue,” Abigail said.

Molly laughed. “No, I mean paint it . . . like a scene, honey. I’m an artist.”

“Oh.” Abigail blushed, feeling foolish. “Would you like a drink?”

“What do you have?”

She was about to reply when Joseph interrupted, for some reason in a dry tone. “Lemonade, tea, or springwater, Molly.”

The girl laughed again, tossing her curls. “Things sure have changed, haven’t they? I’ll have tea, honey. If it’s cold . . .”

Abigail nodded. “Of course. Please sit down. Joseph, what would you like?”

She kept her expression placid, though she felt furious with him for some reason. After all, he had no idea that the girl was going to come looking for him . . . did he?

“
Nee
, you sit. I’ll get the drinks. Do you want lemonade?” Joseph asked.

Abigail could tell that something was bothering him by the tense set of his jaw, but she wasn’t sure whether she was the cause, or Molly. After all, her conscience pricked her, she was the interloper here in a way. She’d forced this marriage upon him when maybe he’d been wanting to marry this beautiful
Englisch
girl instead. But if that were so, why had he come back? She stopped trying to puzzle it out when she realized Molly had asked her a question.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking . . . Please, what did you say?”

“I asked how long you’ve been married . . . It can’t be long. I was seeing Joseph as recently as a year ago.”

Abigail flushed and met her husband’s eye. He returned her gaze with an expressionless face. She pursed her lips, then smiled with sweetness, moving to slide an arm around Joseph’s lean waist.

“Actually,” she murmured, batting her eyelashes with a coy effect, “we’re still newlyweds. Isn’t that right, my love?”

Joseph half turned toward her body and stared down into her eyes. “Indeed. And I hope that we’ll always feel like newlyweds, even when we’re old and gray.”

Abigail flushed beneath his intense eyes and at his unexpected words. She also noticed that Molly looked none too pleased with his response.

“Well,” their visitor said with a toss of her curls, “I suppose that’s nice, but what is it that they say—’Young marriages are the most fragile’?”

“I’ve never heard that saying,” Joseph remarked. “Now let’s finish our drinks. I’ve got work to get back to, as does Abby.”

Molly quickly recovered her composure. Indeed, if Abigail didn’t know any better, she would have believed the girl’s sincerity and goodwill. But to someone who’d led boys on in the past herself, it was obvious to Abigail just exactly what Molly was up to.

She sighed within herself, kept up a silent running stream of petition to the Lord, and was glad when Joseph finally escorted the girl to the back porch and out of their lives for good.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN