A Reluctant Bride (4 page)

Sadie patted her horse's nose as she trudged by. Apple gave her a nudge and Sadie sighed. Even her horse was rushing her along. She got in the buggy and grabbed the reins, which nearly slipped from her slick hands. All she'd wanted was to spend the evening learning a little about accounting. Instead she'd be forced to dodge people she didn't want to see.

Abigail leaned forward, resting her chin on Sadie's shoulder
as Sadie guided Apple out of the driveway. “Tonight will be fun,” she said. “I promise.”

Sadie clutched the reins and managed a nod. As her sisters started to talk about Joel and the other young men they'd see at the Troyers', Sadie tuned them out. Maybe she would be lucky tonight and Sol wouldn't be there. Maybe she'd be double lucky tonight and Aden wouldn't be around either. To her, one brother was as bad as the other.

Aden Troyer pushed the porch swing back and forth with the toe of his boot as he watched the buggies file one by one into the driveway. He didn't want to be here, but his father insisted—and he didn't dare refuse his father. He was past the age of attending these things, but his father persisted in having them, more for the youth of the community than for his own son. Yet every year Aden had to endure this mandatory attendance. He was getting sick of it.

The back-and-forth motion of the swing calmed his nerves a bit. If he had to be here, he didn't have to be inside. Not yet. At least Sol wouldn't be here. His father had stopped making his brother attend the past year or two. He thanked God for small favors.

He thought about Sol, about how the drinking was getting worse, along with his temper. He suspected his father knew about Sol's vices, although he never said anything about them in Aden's presence. Probably because he was too busy pointing out Aden's flaws. His many,
many
flaws.

He pushed the swing in motion again, lifting his head to see the latest person arrive to the singing. He watched as the buggy
parked in front of the barn, neatly lining up with the rest of the buggies. The driver exited the vehicle.

Aden stopped the swing. What was Sadie Schrock doing here?

He leaned forward as Sadie's sisters, Abigail and Joanna, got out on the other side of the buggy. But Aden barely paid attention to them. Why would Sadie come here? This was the last place he'd expected her to show up.

But his surprise at seeing her wasn't the only reason he couldn't tear his gaze away. To him, not only was she the prettiest
maedel
in Birch Creek, she was also the most interesting. Sadie wasn't like other girls. He could always tell she was fiercely devoted to her family and to their business. She was serious minded, but there were also times he'd seen her lovely smile, heard her sweet laugh when he saw her talking with her sisters or her friends. He appreciated her. He
admired
her. He could easily see himself falling for her . . . if things were different. If he hadn't run off and left her with Sol that time by the cornfield.

Maybe then she wouldn't hate him so much.

The front screen door opened with a squeak. “Aden.”

Aden pulled his gaze away from Sadie at the sound of his father's voice.
Daed
was standing in the doorway, his face placid, nearly inscrutable. But Aden could see the glimmer of disappointment in his father's eyes, so small that Aden was sure only he could have detected it.

I've had enough practice.

“You need to be inside,
sohn
, to greet our guests.”

He didn't look at his father. At twenty-two he shouldn't have to be talked to like he was a kid. “I'll be inside in a minute.”

Daed
paused. “I haven't received the money from this week's honey sales.”

“I'll get it to you tomorrow.”

“See that you do. And see that you come inside. Now.”

Aden flinched as the screen door slammed shut. He kept watching Sadie as she lagged a few steps behind her sisters. From the pinched look on her face, he could see she didn't want to be here either.
At least we have that in common.

He stood and went inside the house. He wasn't ready to face anyone, not yet. He snuck upstairs to his room and opened the bottom drawer of his small dresser. Beneath a layer of socks was the envelope that held the money.
His
money, despite his father's insistence that Aden give every penny to him as recompense for putting a roof over his head and meals in his stomach. But it wasn't his father who had built the beehives, or tended to them, or collected and packaged the honey, or read dozens of books from the library on pollination and gardening. His father was too busy. Too important.

Aden would never say such a thing to the man's face. He was the bishop, and he had been since his family and five others had moved to Birch Creek a little over twenty-five years ago. Aden was born here, but his parents were from Holmes County. Over the years their small community had grown to twenty families, all under Emmanuel Troyer's watchful, and outwardly caring, eye. Aden had a difficult time understanding how a man who was so revered and respected by the rest of the community could be so hard and unyielding to his own son.

He was old enough to leave. He could strike out on his own and make a decent living raising bees and selling honey and other hive by-products. But he wouldn't leave his mother here with his father and Sol. As long as Aden stayed, he would be the one to bear the burden of Sol's temper and his father's derision. Neither his father nor his brother had ever turned on
Mamm
, but Aden
didn't want to risk the chance of that happening if he weren't here.

He sighed and opened the envelope that held almost three hundred dollars. He took out fifty, put the envelope back, and pulled out a small metal box from under his bed. He put the fifty dollars inside and shoved the box back until he heard it hit the wall. His father trusted Aden to be honest, and in almost every aspect of his life Aden was. But he had to have something for himself. He needed the security the money he set aside without his father's knowledge gave him. He couldn't convince himself that withholding some of the money he'd earned was a sin, not when his father demanded everything from Aden—even when Aden's everything wasn't close to good enough.

He stood, brushed off his black pants, took a deep breath, and went downstairs.

Sadie
really
didn't want to be here.

She stood in the corner of the Troyers' basement, which seemed so similar to her parents'—gray cement floor, cinder block walls, and a small horizontal window at the top of the back wall to let in a bit of light. There were several gas lamps in the room, which gave adequate lighting. Sadie held a red plastic cup filled with apple cider and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. She kept her eye out for Sol, who fortunately hadn't shown up. Still, she had to stay on guard.

“Sadie,” Abigail muttered, “stop looking like you've got tacks in
yer
shoes.”

“What?” She turned to her sister, who was standing close beside her.

“You could at least try to be friendly.” Abigail glanced around. “Everyone's pairing up already, and Joel's waiting for me.” She looked at Sadie again. “You're going to end up alone tonight.”

Sadie ignored her and Abigail sighed. “Look, Aden's standing all by himself over there. Why don't you
geh
talk to him? He always looks so lonely.”

Sadie spied Aden in the opposite corner of the room, partially shrouded by the shadows. He leaned against the cinder block wall, but his posture was rigid. Unwelcoming. She had the sense he was as lost as she felt.

She turned her gaze from him. She didn't care about Aden. But she did catch out of the corner of her eye his sudden departure from the room.
Good. Hopefully he won't come back.

As Aden walked away she said to Abigail, “I'm fine right here.”

“But—”

“Don't worry about me,” she added, softening her tone and managing a smile. “
Geh
see Joel. He's waiting.”

Abigail looked over her shoulder at Joel Zook, who was standing a few feet away holding two cups of cider. When he smiled, she said, “He's very
schee
, don't you think?”

With a shrug Sadie glanced at him. He was tall—very tall, at least a head taller than everyone else in the room. But that was the most remarkable thing about him, in Sadie's opinion. “What's important is that you think so.”

Abigail flashed an excited grin before walking toward Joel, who held out a cup of cider to her.

With Abigail content, at least for the moment, Sadie scanned the room again, on the lookout for Sol. Fortunately he was keeping his distance, like he did at church services. Maybe being
under his father's roof was keeping him at bay. Whatever it was, she was glad for it.

She spied Joanna, off to the side and talking to Andrew Beiler. In contrast to Joel Zook's towering height and slight frame, Andrew was on the short, stocky side. He leaned closer to Joanna and spoke. Joanna pulled back, a delighted smile on her face, a rosy blush on her cheeks.

Good. Sol wouldn't be able to get to her with Andrew in the way.

Sadie turned away, an odd emptiness coming over her. As Abigail had predicted, everyone had paired off, with the exception of her and Aden, who'd had the good sense to leave. It shouldn't have bothered her to be standing apart from everyone else. That was what she wanted.

Wasn't it?

She was about to take a sip of her drink, but froze as she saw Sol enter the basement. He'd grown broader over the past six years, his muscular biceps straining against the short sleeves of his yellow shirt. If he'd been that size when he'd restrained her in the cornfield, she might not have gotten away. A shiver coursed through her.

She watched as he threaded through the small crowd of young people, pausing to talk to Irene Beiler, Andrew's older sister. Then he looked up, and his gaze met Sadie's—and held.

The cup slipped from her hand. She barely caught it before it hit the floor. Her throat constricted, her heart hammering in her chest. Despite Sol keeping his distance, she felt invaded as he continued to look at her. The memory of his forceful, sweaty kiss came slamming back, and it took everything she had not to grab her sisters and go home. But they were having a good time, and she didn't want to spoil it for them.

That didn't mean she had to stay in the same room as Sol.

Sadie hurried out the back door of the basement, then up the four steps that led to the backyard. She paused at the edge of the simple concrete slab that served as the Troyers' patio and drew a sharp breath into her panicked lungs. Dusk had descended, cloaking everything in dim light. Wanting to put as much distance between her and Sol as she possibly could, she blindly hurried from the house, not caring where she ended up. She'd spend the rest of the evening in her buggy if she had to. Anything to get away from Sol and the desperate fear his presence ignited.

By the time her pulse slowed, she found herself behind the Troyers' barn and realized she had made a foolish choice by coming outside alone. What if Sol had followed her out here? If he did, she'd scream herself hoarse this time. She wasn't a naïve sixteen-year-old girl anymore.

A buzzing noise appeared near her ear, briefly distracting her. She turned and saw four stacks of beehives a few yards away. In the fading light of dusk she could barely make out a few bees hovering above the hives. Great. On top of everything she would probably get stung. She took a few steps back, ready to bolt again if the bees came near her.

“They won't sting you.”

She whirled around to see Aden standing inches away. Closer than he'd been in years.

“They're coming home for the night,” he said, his voice soft, low, and deeper than she remembered. “As long as we don't bother them, they won't bother us.”

She didn't care about his stupid bees. She glared at him. His russet hair almost brushed the collar of his shirt, and she thought for a bizarre moment that he needed a haircut.