A Marriage of the Heart (37 page)

“You need to go into town as soon as you’re able and get new glasses. The last ones were trampled by the horse. But in the meantime, two tokens from the fair . . .” She stopped twitching his nose and pulled away two prize ribbons, one blue, one red.

“What . . .”

“Your big, nasty bull took the blue ribbon, and my sweet corn took second place with the red. Aren’t you happy?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Very . . . but my ribs still hurt quite a bit.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything that I can do?” she murmured, bending over him.

“
Ach
, I don’t know . . . It seems that while I’ve been ill, some wondrous nurse has visited my bedside. Might she still be about?”

Even without his glasses, he recognized her flush and enjoyed it. She bit her lip and giggled, then she straightened to adjust his pillows. Her arm brushed against his face and he caught the sweet scent of her and wished he wasn’t an invalid and could act like a man with his new bride. But for now he’d settle for her closeness.

“Dr. Knepp says that you’re to sit up today, and if you’re very, very good, you can sit in a chair tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “I hate being down.”

She laughed. “But I plan to keep you properly entertained, so you needn’t worry about that.” She pulled back and lifted a tray from the bedside table to settle on his lap.

“Really?” he asked. “How? Maybe just telling me will make me feel good.”

“Well, I thought first of all that I’d help feed you.”

He frowned. “I’m not a babe.”

“No,” she whispered in a husky voice that sent shivers down his spine. “I can see that. But there’s something very intimate about letting someone else give you—sustenance.” She drew out the word suggestively, and he decided right then and there that he’d eat anything from gruel to noodles from her hand.

She took her time adjusting the cotton napkin around his neck, letting it trail up his chest above the bandages, then leaning close while she fooled overlong with the knot. He felt himself
growing increasingly warm and not with fever this time. At least, he thought wryly, not the ill kind of fever anyway.

But as it turned out, Abby’s sliding one delicious spoonful of vegetable soup after another into his willing mouth was more than satisfying.

CHAPTER TWENTY

T
HE FULL MOON OF AN EARLY
N
OVEMBER NIGHT CAST ITS
luminescent beams in shadowy play across the master bedroom. Abigail shifted in the rocking chair where she’d slept for the past weeks of Joseph’s recovery and cringed when it squeaked. She nearly jumped, though, when he spoke from the shadows.

“It’s foolishness, Abby, you know?”

“Are you dreaming, Joseph? What’s foolishness? Do you have a fever again?”

He rose up on one elbow on the bed, and she could see the moonlight stray across his chest. Dr. Knepp had removed the bandages yesterday and had said that Joseph might resume light daily activities.

“What’s foolishness?” she asked again, reaching to massage her neck where it rested against the hard wood of the chair.

“It’s foolishness that one of us has to sleep either on the floor or in the chair. This bed is big enough for two people, and the weather is getting colder. Your father told me yesterday that he’s quite comfortable upstairs in the spare bedroom, so why don’t you get out of that miserable chair and come over here and lie down?”

There was a long pause.

He sighed aloud. “No, Abby, I’m not asking for anything except that you stop being uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable even to look at that chair. I’ll tell you what. I will roll up our lovely double wedding ring quilt and put it like a fat, happy sausage down the middle of the bed. And you can stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

She considered further. “I might roll over, though, and reinjure your ribs.”

“Oh, Abby, come on. Grow up just a little bit.”

“What does that mean?”

“Okay. I have said what I’m going to say on the matter. If you want to freeze and contort yourself in that torture chair, it’s entirely up to you. Good night.”

Abigail listened to the sheets rustle as he made himself comfortable. It would be lovely to stretch out fully, but her pride was nicked by his words, and she kept her stubborn seat.

I’ll wait until he falls asleep,
she thought.
Then maybe I’ll do as
he suggests
.

So she waited, and the idea of being close to Joseph grew more and more appealing. When she thought he was finally asleep, she rose to tiptoe across the room, nearly tripping over George the cat as she moved toward the bed. She settled as gingerly as she could on the edge opposite Joseph and felt for the reassuring bulk of the “sausage,” as he called it. She lay down on her back and adjusted her hair, staring up at the ceiling.

“Are you scared of sharing the bed with me?” a soft voice asked.

“No,” she lied.

“I used to be scared of storms when I was a kid, especially when I was living on the streets and had no shelter. The whole idea of home or just having a home was so unfamiliar and seemed so out of reach to me then. It’s just wonderful to be able to lie here with you and know that we’re safe.”

“I’ve never thought about what life must be like for a homeless person.”

“The homeless face the brutal elements of the weather, but they also battle physical and emotional and spiritual storms.”

She turned slightly, interested now in what he was saying. “Can you tell me about your time on the streets without it bothering you too much?”

“There’s not a whole lot to say except that I met a lot of people who were hurt and in need of the Lord’s help, but in some cases, they had never even heard of His name.”

She played with the pattern of the quilt with a fingertip and shook her head. “I guess I never thought of what it would be like to really leave here. I had this idea that it would be easier somehow or more fulfilling, but I realize that life is just as hard, just as challenging no matter where you are.”

“Yes, but having a community of people behind you makes it so much easier. You know the rules. You know what to expect. You know how to fit in. For some people, I guess all of that would be pretty boring, but I’ve had my taste and my fill of a life with no rules.”

She stretched her open palm across the lump of a quilt in between them and felt his hand enclose hers. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

J
OSEPH AWOKE TO THE DOUBLE SENSATION OF WARM SUNSHINE
on his face and an even warmer Abby next to his side. Somehow she had leapt the quilt barrier and was nestled against him as comfortably as if she’d always slept there. He kept his breathing shallow and even for fear of waking her and breaking the moment. It was enough just to hold her and smell the fresh mint of her hair and that delicate scent of Abby that was something between a storm and the sea. Soon enough, though, she opened her eyes and jumped like a scalded cat.

“What are you doing?” she asked, outrage in her voice.

“What am
I
doing?”

“You are supposed to stay on your side of the quilt.”

“I’m sorry. I may need new glasses, but it’s you who appears to have forgotten about the barrier.”

He watched her gaze around the bed, and a bright blush stained
her cheeks as she realized he was right. She started to pull away, but he caught her back. “Just a minute. Where are you going?”

“To my side of the quilt.”

He laughed and then groaned lightly as the pain in his ribs stabbed him.

“Now see what you’ve done,” she admonished. “Let me go.”

He reached beneath her arm with unerring fingers and began to tickle her. “When was the last time you played, Abigail Lambert?” he teased.

She squealed and, in her attempt to get away, accidentally knocked him aside the head.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but—I’m really not.” She laughed as she got away. “And maybe it’s me who should remind you of what real play is like.”

He rubbed his head as he considered her words. “I would be glad to see anything that you have to offer in the line of play.”

She danced around the room in her nightdress, her hair a golden cloud, and picked up her clothes and small toiletries here and there. Then she caught up a towel from the back of a chair. “Unfortunately, it’s time for my bath, Mr. Lambert, and you will have no play in that.” She turned on her heel with her nose in the air and left him smiling on the bed.

He wondered how often she would continue to move in the dance between girlhood and womanhood. He would always find her entertaining, but he longed for a more mature relationship with his wife. She had told him once that she was patient, but he knew deep inside that he was just as patient. And, he thought with a grin, maybe just a bit more plotting than she was.

W
ITH A LIGHT HEART
, A
BIGAIL DRAGGED THE HIP BATH OUT
near the woodstove. Her father greeted her with a smile and rose
from his rocker to leave the room. She thought how wonderful it would have been to have had his smiles all her life, but she knew that it was never too late to have something put right. So she dropped a light kiss on his cheek and put a kettle of water on the stove to heat.

“There’s one thing more that I wanted to talk to you about, Abby,” her
daed
said. “I’ve been wrong also all these years about keeping that quilt up in its frame. I want you to have your own quilting and to make a wedding quilt for you and Joseph.”

Abigail paused as she watched slow bubbles begin to form in the bottom of the kettle. Her father’s words were a balm to her spirit, but she was struck with inspiration at the same time.

“You know, Father, I’ve been thinking, too, about the quilt and
Mamm’s
letter. I wondered if you’d mind my finishing the Abby’s Wish quilt?”

He gazed at her across the kitchen. “Why would you want that?”

She thought hard and examined her heart. “Because part of accepting who I am in the Lord is accepting who my mother was. I want to finish that quilt with some joyful women who will remind me that this life is more than worth living, even if the people we love don’t always turn out the way we hope they will. I wanted a mother for years, but I’ve come to realize that I can be mothered in other ways, by other women and friends. The quilt would be a celebration of all of that.”

For a moment she thought he might cry again, but he simply nodded.

“That’s good enough for me, and very wise for such a young woman as yourself to realize.”

“Thank you, Father.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll just take the sheet and cedar off of the quilt, then, and tighten the rolls of the frame up a bit so that it can be ready for you. When do you want to have your quilting party?”

Abigail considered. If she were through with her housework and Joseph remained well in the afternoon, she might be able to take Carl around and deliver individual invitations to a quilting for Saturday. That gave her three days to prepare. She glanced around the rather dim kitchen with some doubt but decided that true friends would accept her home in any condition.

“Saturday,” she told her
daed
.

“Fair enough. I’ll take Joseph somewhere that day to get away from all the female fussing.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy that.”

Her father nodded again, then he left the room, going out the back door. Abigail pulled the screen around the tub and emptied the kettle full of hot water into the bath. She filled yet another and dropped a bar of homemade mint soap into the tub. She played dreamily with her hair as she thought about waking up in her husband’s arms. He was so strong and so handsome, but he was also smart and funny. She realized that she liked the edges of his humor and that it was a fair complement to her own.

When the rest of the water was heated, she slipped into the tub and began a leisurely wash. A thumping noise, followed by the opening creak of the master bedroom door, drew her upright in the tub, and she squeaked in surprise. “Who’s there?”

“No one,” Joseph answered, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“You get back in that bed and stay outside of this screen.”

“I just wanted to get some milk. I had no intentions of playing in your bath. Is that all right?”

“Just get the milk and go.” She hugged her chest to her bended knees and longed for the towel or her dress, which hung out of reach atop the screen. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing even so much as a silhouette of her form, which he could probably do by the light of the stove and the thinness of the screen.

She heard Joseph moving about the kitchen.

“Father will be back soon.”

“Well then, you’d better get out of that tub, hadn’t you?”

She fumed at his good humor and decided to concentrate on finishing her bath. She caught up the soft mint soap and squished it between her fingers, enjoying the feel and the smell. She made haste to scrub her arms and shoulders and decided she’d wash her hair at a more convenient and private time. Suddenly the towel, which had hung out of reach, was flipped down atop her head, and she blinked in surprise.