A Love Made New (29 page)

“
Yer mamm
said you didn't
geh
home last night.” She batted his arm on impulse. “Don't ever worry me like that again!”

“I didn't mean to worry you.” His voice sounded scratchy, like a nail against a rusty can. “I need to
geh
home and let
Mamm
know I'm okay. But I had to come by here first.” His chest heaved. “Irene, I'm sorry about yesterday. You were right, and Jesus is right. I have to forgive
mei
father. Not just for myself, although I know that's important. But I want him to see that God changed me. That I'm not the weak man he always said I was. That I became strong—that I am strong—only because God has made me so. I want him to come back and apologize to
Mamm
. To Aden. I want . . .” Tears shined in his eyes. “I want him to have what I have. I want him to be healed.”

“Oh, Sol.”

“I think . . .” He swallowed. “I think I've forgiven him.”

Without qualm she put her arms around his neck and hugged him, not caring that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes and smelled like he'd spent the night in the woods. “You're an amazing man,” she said in his ear. “To overcome what you've overcome.” She hugged him more tightly.

But he pulled away. “Only through God, Irene. Don't give me the credit. God dealt with me again, but that doesn't mean I'm okay. Far from it. I still want to drink. I don't know if that urge will ever
geh
away. And while I don't feel the anger I had before . . . I'm afraid of what will happen if I do get angry. I don't want to hurt anyone ever again.”

Meaning dawned on Irene. This is what he needed her for. He needed someone to believe in him, to stand beside him and support him. To remind him of the man he was now and keep him from believing he was still the man of his past. She wanted to be that for him. She wanted to walk this journey with him for the rest of their lives. But how could she convince him of that?

There was only one way. She brushed a russet lock of hair back from his forehead. She kissed the skin revealed there. “I love you,” she said, knowing that it was highly possible that he didn't love her back. Yet that didn't hold her back from telling him the truth. He needed to know how she felt. That he was worth loving. “I love the man you've become and the man you will continue to be.”

His hand moved to her waist even as he said her name. “Are you sure?”

“More than anything.” She leaned forward and kissed him. He didn't respond at first, then he was kissing her until she could barely breathe. His hand tightened at her waist as he broke the kiss.

“I'll wait for you, Sol. I'll wait until you love me.”

He smiled, and she'd never seen anything so beautiful. “You don't have to wait for me to love you, Irene. I already do.” After kissing her again Sol said, “I need to
geh
.” He paused, gazing into her eyes. “Even though I don't want to.”

Her heart warmed. Gone was the trepidation that had been there earlier. Now she saw what she'd yearned for in his green eyes—peace. “I understand. Where is
yer
buggy?”

“Other side of the barn. I was worried
yer bruder
would come home before you and chase me away.”

“Andrew wouldn't do that.” Irene realized Sol still had a long way to go until he believed he wasn't a pariah. “You're
familye
, remember?”

“By marriage.” A fact that he didn't need to say out loud. Yet his cheeks turned almost the shade of his hair as they walked out of the barn. “I'll see you tomorrow,
ya
?”

“Of course.” She followed him to his buggy. His horse was contentedly munching on the grass behind the barn.

Sol climbed in and took the reins. “Maybe we can talk about a few things after work. Important things,” he added. He smiled again and Irene caught his meaning.

“I can't wait.”

She said good-bye and stepped away from the buggy. She was waving as he pulled out of the driveway. Before he was completely gone a car pulled up next to it and waited for Sol to leave before pulling into the driveway. Irene waited to see who was stopping by her house in a car. That was unusual.

The front passenger side door opened and a man who was a little taller than Andrew stepped out of the car. He was
Englisch
, with short, sandy-blond hair cut close to his scalp and was wearing a long-sleeved plaid shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He pulled a
duffle bag out of the front seat and shut the door, giving the driver a little wave. The driver backed out and the man faced Irene, but he didn't come any closer.

A weird feeling overcame her and she couldn't move. There was something familiar about him . . . her stomach felt like it dropped to her feet. “
Daed?
” She put her hand over her mouth.

He nodded, but didn't make a move toward her. “Hello, Irene.”

Suddenly it was as if she were thirteen years old again. She launched herself into his arms. He dropped the duffle bag and hugged her tight.

“You're home,” Irene said, tears streaming down her face as she held on to her father's neck.

“
Ya
,” he said, his voice thick. “I'm finally home.”

A
sa stripped off his church vest, hung it on a hanger, and put it in his closet. He closed the door and turned to look at the bedroom. His old bedroom, the one where he grew up. When Abigail left, he'd thrown himself into fixing up the house. God was keeping him here, and he couldn't live in a dump. He'd also put in his two weeks' notice at the plastics plant on Friday. He was done working in factories. He'd taken on Sol, Andrew, and Freemont as clients, and was ready to hang out his shingle as an accountant. When he'd finally made the decision, he'd felt freer than he had ever felt in his life. He also felt like he had a purpose.

He went downstairs to the kitchen to fix a sandwich, then take a Sunday afternoon nap. As he passed by the front door, he heard a knock. His heart flipped. Abigail? Was she back? He hurried to the door, opened it, and saw Andrew. “Oh,” Asa said, opening the door wider.

“Glad to see you too.” Andrew snickered and walked into the living room.

“Sorry.” Asa shut the door and gestured to the new couch
he'd bought last week to replace the old one he had before. It wasn't fancy, but it was nice. He'd chosen a dark blue color, briefly wondering if Abigail would like it, then realizing he couldn't make his purchases—or any other decisions—based on her opinion. Not when she wasn't in his life anymore.

Andrew sat down and crossed his ankle over his knee. He was still wearing his church clothes, including his black hat, which he took off and tossed beside him.

“I don't have much to offer you for lunch,” Asa said.

“That's okay. Joanna's putting together something.” He patted his belly. “She's going to have me fattened up soon enough.”

Asa sat down in the rocker. “I can think of worse fates.”

Andrew's expression sobered. “
Ya.
” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I came by to see how you're doing. I'm sorry I haven't been around much.”

“You're married,” Asa said with a shrug. “That keeps a man busy.”

“It does.” Andrew grinned, but it disappeared quickly. “Have you heard from Abigail?”

He shook his head. “I don't expect to.”

“Maybe you should
geh
see her.”

“
Nee
.” Asa leveled his gaze at Andrew. “Absolutely not.”

“I didn't take you for a prideful man, Asa.”

“It's not pride.” He leaned forward. “Don't get me wrong. I still care for Abigail. I still . . .”

“Love her?”

He swallowed. “
Ya.
And that's why I'm not chasing her to Middlefield or wherever else she decides to
geh
.
Mei
place is here, in Birch Creek. That hasn't changed just because Abigail left.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I used to think that was why God brought me here. Because Abigail and I were meant
to be together. But that's not why. I have purpose now, Andrew. I'm going to start
mei
own business soon.” He looked around the living room. “The
haus
is shaping up.”

“What about Abigail?”

He blew out a breath. “I don't know. I've had to put that in God's hands. And it's been the hardest thing I've ever done.”

Andrew nodded. He picked up his hat and stood. “I better get home. I'm glad to see you're doing okay.”

“Better than okay.” He stood and faced Andrew. The words were true. He missed Abigail, but he had a life here. A new beginning. And if he and Abigail were meant to be together, God would make a way. He truly believed that.

Irene sat in the living room with her father and mother while they waited for Andrew to come home. Her mother and Joanna had dropped him off at Asa's before coming home, and now Joanna was in the kitchen preparing a cold lunch. Irene and Naomi had offered to help but Joanna had insisted on letting them all have time alone. Homer was also there with her, waiting for any scrap that might accidentally—or on purpose—fall on the floor.

Irene looked at her parents and smiled. They were sitting together on the couch, close but not touching. Yet they couldn't stop looking at each other. Irene could feel the love between them, and it made her tear up again. Her mother had believed her father would come home one day—and now he was here.

“Are you sure they've captured everyone involved in the drug ring?”
Mamm
asked.

Daed
nodded. “
Ya
, finally.” His answer was curt, and he didn't elaborate. Irene wasn't going to ask. She would probably
never know what her father had gone through the past twelve years, and that didn't matter. What was important was that he was here. He looked at Irene and then back at
Mamm
. “It's so
gut
to be home.”

Irene noticed he'd slipped back into Pennsylvania
Dietsch
. Then he looked at Irene. “So who was the young man I saw leaving when I arrived?”

“Bartholomew,”
Mamm
said, giving him a warning look.

Daed
frowned. “Sorry. I was only teasing.”

“It's okay.” She grinned. “His name is Solomon Troyer.”

“Irene works for him,”
Mamm
explained. “Painting birdhouses.”

“Oh.”
Daed
looked chastened. “Sorry. I thought . . . never mind. I should mind
mei
own business.”

“
Nee
, it's all right.” She looked at both her parents. “I like him. And he likes me.” No reason to admit that they were in love, not when it was so new. She wanted to keep that to herself.

The faint sound of the back door opening silenced them. “Andrew's home,”
Mamm
said.

Daed
stood up. “I'll
geh
see him, then.”

When he left,
Mamm
watched him walk out of the living room. “I can't believe he's home.”

“Me either.” She went to sit next to her mother. “We all have so much catching up to do.”

“I think you have some catching up to do with me,”
Mamm
said. She leaned closer to her. “I didn't know Sol was here.”

“It was an unexpected visit.”

Mamm
's face beamed, her smile wider than Irene had ever seen it. She hugged her mother. “You look happy,” she said.

“I am,”
Mamm
whispered, hugging Irene tight. “I'm so very, very happy.”

Me too.
Sol loved her, and now she had her father back. It was more than she'd ever hoped for.

Later that evening, after supper, Naomi couldn't wait to be alone with her husband. Now they were upstairs in their room, and her heart was so filled with joy she thought it might burst.

“I can't believe you're here.” Naomi lifted her hand to touch Bartholomew's face. He looked so different, yet the same. The warmth in his blue eyes, his square jaw, hair so soft she couldn't resist touching it. These were all familiar. But the grays that threaded through the short, sandy-blond strands, the stress lines on his forehead, the slight slump of his posture—these were the changes.

“You look the same,” he said, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. He ran this thumb over the top of her cheek, right below her glasses. “Still beautiful.”

She almost melted at the tears in his eyes. She took his hand and led him to the edge of her bed. Their bed. She could hardly believe it. It would be their bed now, just like everything else here. They shared it now.
Not mine, but ours
. He sat down next to her, keeping his hand in hers.

She gazed at him again. “I don't know what to say.”

“It's like being on our first date again.” He smiled. “Getting to know each other.”

“Yet already knowing.”

He nodded. “Something like that.” He lifted their clasped hands together. “I can't tell you how good it feels to be here with you. I've dreamt of this moment for years.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Along with other moments.”

She blushed. “Me too,” she admitted, unable to look him in the eye. He made her feel like a young girl all over again, stripping away the years of worry and longing and sacrifice.

“Naomi.” He touched her chin and he turned her to face him. “Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not.”

“
Yer
hand is shaking.”

“I'm just . . .” She didn't know how to describe it. “Happy,” she said, tightening her grip around his hand. “So very, very happy.”

Bartholomew kissed her forehead. “Me too. I'm also sorry.”

She put her fingers to his lips. “You don't have to say it.”

“
Ya
, I do.” He moved her hand. “I'll say it every day for as long as I live. I can't make up for what I've done to you . . . to our
familye
.”

“There's nothing to make up. You're here. That's what matters.” She ran her hand across the sides of his short hair. “I don't know how I feel about this, though,” she said, desperate for some levity. She'd spent so long without him that she didn't want their first moment alone to be filled with sorrowful reminders.

He ran his hand through his short hair. “
Ya.
But it will grow.” He glanced down. “I'll need new clothes too.”

She extricated her hand from his and went to the closet. She pulled out a shirt, then a pair of pants. “Will these do?”

He joined her at the closet. “You saved these?”

“I knew you'd come back. I wanted them to be here when you did.”

He took them from her. “You had that much faith.”

“I did. In God, and in you.”

“Even after I couldn't write to you anymore?”

She paused, knowing she had to tell him the truth. “I was
upset.
Nee
, more than upset.” She gazed up at him. “I was devastated. The thought of never hearing from you again was more than I could bear. And I thought . . .” She turned away from him.

“You thought what?”

“That maybe I was wrong. That God hadn't promised me you would return, that it was just wishful thinking.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That maybe you had found someone else.”

He hung the clothes back in the closet, then came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You're the only one for me, Naomi. There never was, never could be, anyone else. I love you.” He turned her to face him. “And I will never leave you again. I promise.” He bent and kissed her.

She melted into his embrace, and poured her heart out to him . . . as she had been waiting to do for so long.