A Reluctant Bride (12 page)

“I didn't mean for this to happen, Sadie. I hope you believe that.”

She turned her back to him. “Just
geh
.”

“All right.”

After he left she collapsed in the chair and bit her bottom lip, drawing blood.
Why, Lord? Haven't I suffered enough?

Her life was in pieces, her emotions in tatters. She was being punished, but she had no idea what she had done to deserve such
harsh correction. And the sentence was beyond cruel—a lifetime married to a man she would never trust and could never love.

But he saved me from Sol.

She shoved the thought away and wiped the blood from her mouth. Her pulse pounded as she reminded herself why she had agreed to the marriage—her promise to her parents. If marrying Aden meant she could keep her business and property and keep what was left of her family intact, she would do it. Abigail and Joanna would have a home to return to and a business that would support all of them—one she vowed Aden would never be a part of. Her sisters were her family—the only family she had left. And she would do anything for them . . . even give up her own future.

But she would never give up her heart.

Emmanuel Troyer walked into the barn to see his oldest son pacing back and forth. He approached him with measured steps. The
bu
had always had a temper, one he struggled to keep in check and seemed to worsen over time. Another weakness Emmanuel had tried to correct. He wanted his sons to be strong men. To be respected and, yes, slightly feared. Fear, like all emotions, was a useful tool if used properly.

But over the last couple of years, he'd started to wonder if Solomon was worth the trouble. The drinking, the fits of temper, his sheer inability to be a man of strength and character . . . Emmanuel shook his head. He'd stopped questioning why God had given him two difficult sons. Everyone had a cross to bear, and his children were his.

Solomon was hardheaded and impulsive, while Aden was too sensitive and weak. He had tried to rectify these problems by
giving Solomon disciplinary responsibility over his brother and Aden the opportunity to stand up for himself, a method his own father had used with Emmanuel and his younger brother, John. One that had kept them both in line.

Yet Solomon's anger had increased and Aden had passively taken the blows. Neither son had learned his lesson. They were as different as dark and light, but they had one common denominator: they were both cowards, and that was something Emmanuel couldn't fix.

But he had to admit Aden had surprised him. Emmanuel had seen the fear in Sadie's eyes when he'd told her Solomon would marry her. She was afraid of his eldest and Aden knew the reason. Emmanuel wasn't concerned with Aden's motivations, however. He could get what he wanted through his youngest son. Possibly more easily, considering Solomon's unpredictable temperament.

Solomon continued to pace the length of their barn, his huge hands opening and closing into meaty fists. He stopped when he saw Emmanuel. “How could you let that happen?” Solomon glared at him.

Emmanuel met Solomon's furious gaze evenly. “Do I need to remind you of
yer
place?”

Those simple words caused Solomon to stop pacing. He inhaled a deep breath, unclenching his fists. “I had already agreed to marry her,” he said, sounding slightly more conciliatory. “I had agreed to go along with
yer
plan.”

“Plans change.”

“Does Aden know? Is he aware of the real reason you're forcing Sadie into marriage?”

Emmanuel's jaw twitched. “What
yer
brother knows or doesn't know isn't
yer
concern.”

Solomon looked away from him and grunted. “Which means he doesn't have a clue.”

“This worked to
yer
advantage,” Emmanuel said, ignoring Solomon's bitter remark. His son was taking Sadie's rejection harder than Emmanuel would have predicted. “She is a hardened, ungrateful woman. She would strive against you. Let Aden deal with her.”

“Because you think I can't.”

He shrugged. “Why would you want to?”

Solomon paused, as if he were considering what Emmanuel said. “So what does this
change of plans
mean for me?”

Emmanuel looked at his son's large hands, which were balled into fists again. He was growing weary of being questioned. Solomon was fortunate he was showing restraint. His own father would have laid him out on the barn floor at the first spark of disrespect.

Yes, Aden would be much easier to deal with.

But he couldn't afford to alienate Solomon, not during this precarious time. He went to his son and put his hands on his shoulders. “Remember what I promised you,” he said, looking him in the eye. “Aden's marriage doesn't change that.”

Solomon looked away, but didn't shake off Emmanuel's hands. That gave Emmanuel the opportunity to squeeze them. Hard, so Solomon understood his meaning.

“You must focus on managing
yer
temper. And
yer
drinking.” That got Solomon's attention. “I've turned the other way, hoping you would come to
yer
senses, that you would use
yer
God-given sense to realize how stupid you've been.”

Solomon swallowed and tried to step away. Emmanuel kept him pinned in place. His son was strong, but Emmanuel was stronger.

“
Yer
foolishness,” he continued, speaking in a low and steely tone, “will
nee
longer be tolerated.” He released Solomon's shoulders, then patted Solomon's cheek, hard enough to leave a red mark. “Now, I must tell
yer mamm
to prepare for the wedding. There is much to do.” He started to leave the barn, only to stop and look at Solomon. “Be a
mann
and accept God's will for
yer bruder
. Sadie made her choice . . . and it wasn't you.”

Sol's temples pulsed as he watched his father calmly walk away, as if he hadn't hurled a verbal jab that struck Sol directly in the heart. Of course Sadie wouldn't have chosen him. She hated him.

What outraged him was knowing she wouldn't have chosen Aden either. They had both lied about being in love, and his father knew it. Yet he had accepted their explanation and had made Sadie choose. Sol hadn't stood a chance.

Bitterness twisted inside him, ugly and foul. What was he supposed to do now? Stand by and watch Aden not only get the girl, but get his freedom?
And the money . . . don't forget the money.
But money didn't matter to him, not the way it did to his father. Solomon was required to pay a good chunk of his earnings every two weeks to
Daed
, without fail. The irony was that if his father simply asked for the money, Sol would willingly hand it over. But he demanded payment . . . and that rubbed Sol raw.

Only one thing between Sol and his father still connected them.
The plan.
Sol had found out about it accidentally and had felt a little bit of happiness when his
daed
had included him. But now that had changed. And despite the assurance that Sol wouldn't be left out, Sol didn't trust his father. Not anymore.

He'd tried to suppress his anger, but he was failing. The
roomy barn suddenly felt too small, his skin hot and taut. He had to get out of there.

He had to get a drink.

He stormed out of the barn and cursed his father's warnings. He intended to get as drunk as he possibly could.

CHAPTER 6

S
adie, are you sure about this?”

Sadie swallowed and faced Patience. Worry creased her friend's forehead as they stood in Aden's room, dressing for the wedding. She had tried not to pay attention to her surroundings, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. She was surprised to see how tidy his room was. And extremely plain, even by Amish standards. His single bed was low to the ground and covered with a thin, worn quilt. He had only one other piece of furniture in the room, a small bureau with two drawers. That was it. Not a single personal item in view. It was hard to believe he'd spent almost his entire life here in such a sterile place.

“Sadie? Did you hear me?”

She looked back at Patience, who at the moment wasn't living up to her name. “
Ya
,” she said, entwining her fingers together and forcing herself to sound convincing. “I'm sure.”

“I was hoping for a different answer.” She handed over Sadie's
kapp
. “I don't understand what the big hurry is. Can't you and Aden wait a couple of months?”

“
Nee
,” Sadie mumbled.

“But so much has happened in a short time . . . with the accident and everything. I'm wondering if . . .”

“If what?” Sadie asked, more out of politeness than wanting to hear the answer. She knew Patience meant well, but her questioning wasn't helping.

“If maybe you're rushing into things.”

“I'm not.” Aden didn't have a mirror in his room, so she put on her
kapp
the best she could, using bobby pins to fasten it in place. One of the pins slipped from her shaking hand and fell to the floor.

“I'll get it.” Patience picked up the pin and slid it smoothly through Sadie's hair, securing the
kapp
. She tilted her head and frowned.

“I wish you could be happy for me.”
I wish I could be happy for myself.
But happiness was a distant memory now.

Patience curled her mouth into a half-smile. “How's this?”

Sadie couldn't help but return it. “A little better.” She moved away from Patience and, without thinking, sat on Aden's bed. She grimaced. His mattress was as hard as stone.

“I'm sorry,” Patience said. “I want to be supportive. I really do. I'm just so confused. Why didn't you tell me you and Aden were a couple?”

“I already explained—we wanted to keep it a secret.”

“But from me?” Hurt crossed her features. “I'm
yer
best friend. You know I wouldn't have said anything.”

Sadie pressed her lips together, the guilt almost overwhelming. She hadn't meant to hurt her friend. But she didn't have a choice. “It was all very sudden. Like a whirlwind romance.” She cringed at the idea of anything romantic between her and Aden. “We haven't been together that long,” she added. Finally, a truth she could tell.

“I didn't even know you liked Aden. I've never seen you two talking.”

“He's shy.”

Patience nodded. “Very shy. He doesn't say much when he drops honey off at
Mamm
's.”

Sadie looked at her, surprised. “How long has he been doing that?”

“Since last year. I think he said he overheard Timothy saying how honey helped her allergies. Since then he gives her a small jar every week. Doesn't even charge her for it.”

Sadie tugged on one of her
kapp
strings. She really didn't want to hear about Aden's good attributes. It was easier to stoke her resentment than to acknowledge his positive qualities. Like how he had left her alone since Saturday, at her request, with the exception of a moment yesterday. She had not attended church service on Sunday, not wanting to see anyone. But on Monday he stopped by the store, handed her an envelope, then left without saying a word. She opened it, gasping at the stack of twenty-dollar bills inside. When she counted the money, she nearly dropped it on the floor. He had given her five hundred dollars, close to the amount she and Abigail had spent on taxi rides to visit Joanna at the hospital.