A Reluctant Bride (15 page)

The dog suddenly pulled away and ran off into the woods. Aden's frown deepened, and he considered going after the mutt. But he figured the dog would run away again. He went inside instead. After he entered the side door, he walked into a small foyer and slipped off his dirty shoes. Then he stepped to the kitchen doorway.

This was his new home, but other than the times the Schrocks held church service here, he'd rarely been in the house, and never
farther than the kitchen. The Schrocks had either held church in the barn or in their large basement. For the past six years, out of respect for Sadie, he had never stayed for fellowship after service, always leaving as soon as church was over. As he stood there, he realized he had no idea where anything was.

The fading light of evening peeked through the thin opening between the kitchen curtains. Not bothering to find where the lamp was in the kitchen, Aden opened cabinet doors until he found what he needed: two plastic bowls. He opened a door, which he hoped was the pantry, and was glad to see he'd been right. He searched the shelves, saw a mason jar filled with what he recognized as canned meat, and dumped it into one of the bowls. He filled the other one with water and set both bowls on the back patio.

He fumbled his way through the house and managed to find the stairs, his body suddenly consumed with weariness.

A sliver of light shined underneath the door at the end of the upstairs hall. His nerves tightening, he headed toward it, knowing it had to be Sadie's room. The door was cracked open enough for him to see inside. He paused, thinking he should leave her alone. But he needed to know she was all right. He peeked inside the room, making sure he didn't touch the door.

She was curled on her bed, still in her wedding dress, her cheek resting on the palm of her hand. Her eyes were closed. He held his breath until he saw the rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was asleep. Relieved, he stepped back into the hallway.

He found the bathroom and took a shower, the hot water giving him the only comfort he'd had during the past week. After he slipped on his long white nightshirt, he gathered his bag and stepped into the hallway.

Aden paused and looked at Sadie's bedroom door. As her
husband, he had as much right to her bed as she did. And although his father had never discussed the intimate relationship between a man and a woman, Aden knew what happened between them. He shoved his hand through his hair, gripping the ends. He wasn't without feelings and desires. God help him, he wanted to go to her.

But knowing he could . . . didn't mean he should.

He turned and walked away.

Sadie held her breath as she heard Aden outside her door. She'd been awake when he first came to her room, but feigned sleep, hoping he would go away. She'd listened as he took a shower, her hands clutching the quilt she was lying on. With every minute that passed, her nerves grew more rattled. He would be within his rights to sleep with her. She knew that, just as she knew what happened when a marriage was consummated. The thought of being with Aden that way terrified her.

The shower ended. She closed her eyes and lay as still as she could, waiting for him to come in, praying that he wouldn't.

But the door never opened. When she heard him walk away, she expelled a breath of relief. She remained still for a moment, wondering if he would come back. When he didn't, she sat up.
Thank God.

Sadie removed the pins from her
kapp
and took off the head covering, but she kept her hair bound. She didn't change into her nightclothes either. She switched off the light and climbed underneath the quilt, hoping sleep would come quickly. Maybe she'd wake up and discover this was all a horrible dream. In the morning she would smell her mother's delicious banana pancakes,
smothered with pure maple syrup. She'd see her father reading the morning paper and hear her sisters arguing over which was better, bacon or sausage. She closed her eyes, clinging to the memories. How she'd taken all those simple, silly moments for granted. She'd do anything to have them back now.

Her eyes flew open and she turned flat on her back. She put her arm over her forehead, struggling with the pain of the memories and the desire to hang on to every last mental image of her parents. Even now she could feel some of those memories slipping away, replaced by the terror of reality.

She was married, but she was completely alone.

Sadie didn't know how much time had passed before she got up to go to the bathroom. When she finished, she stopped in the hallway. Despite herself, she wondered where Aden was. The hallway was dark. The doors to all the bedrooms were closed. She should go downstairs like she intended to, to warm up a small pan of milk in the hopes that drinking it would help bring the sleep she desperately wanted.

Instead she crept to the room across from hers, her heart stilling, her fingertips on the doorknob. This was her parents' bedroom. Surely he hadn't dared claim that room for his own. Slowly she turned the knob. The last thing she wanted to do was wake Aden—if he was in there.

Her heart resumed its rhythm when she saw the bed was empty.

She looked inside Joanna's room. Aden wasn't there either. That left Abigail's room, unless he had decided to sleep downstairs. She felt an unexpected stab of guilt at the idea of him spending the night on the couch. It was an old, dilapidated piece of furniture that was comfortable to lie on for an hour or so but not for a good night's sleep.

Abigail's bedroom was at the opposite end of the hall, near the top of the stairs. It was also the farthest away from Sadie's bedroom.

The door was closed, but not completely. She quietly pushed on the solid wood and peeked inside. Abigail's curtains were open, letting in the dim moonlight. She made out an unfamiliar lump on her sister's bed. She was about to close the door when she saw Aden flip over on his back, the quilt slipping from his shoulders, his profile outlined in the faint, silvery light.

She knew she should leave, but she couldn't resist looking at him. She'd never seen such ease in his expression before. His forehead, often furrowed just under the hank of russet bangs that hung above his eyes, was smooth, the normal tension around his lips nonexistent. She saw the shadow of his lashes as they rested against the top of his cheek. She hadn't noticed how long they were before. And at that moment she realized she had never seen him truly smile.

She stepped back from the door and hurried down the hall, switching off the bathroom lamp on her way to her bedroom. She shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed, relieved that Aden was a safe distance away and confused by the path her thoughts traveled. Sadie was often accused of being too serious, but even she knew how to smile. How to laugh. Surely Aden did, too, but as she searched her mind, she couldn't think of a single instant when he looked happy. She'd seen him resigned, like he did today at the wedding. She'd also seen him concerned, tense, shy, fearful . . .

But never happy.

Her warm milk forgotten, she climbed into bed and tried to focus on anything but Aden—and how little she knew about the man with whom she would be spending the rest of her life.

When Aden walked into the kitchen the next morning, Sadie was nowhere in sight. Since it was early he thought she might still be asleep, but he nixed that idea when he caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee from the percolator on the stove and saw a plate of cinnamon rolls covered in plastic wrap in the center of the table. He lifted up the plastic, and the sweet, yeasty scent made his stomach growl. He wondered if Sadie had made the rolls, realizing it was just as likely they were given to her by friends in the community after her parents' funeral. Was Sadie a good cook? He had no idea.

He did discover that she made excellent coffee. After drinking two cups and downing three cinnamon rolls—they were too good to resist—he gathered up his beekeeper clothing and went outside, intending to go to his parents' house and prepare his hives for removal. He peeked out the window of the kitchen door to see if the dog had visited during the night. The food and water were still in the two bowls on the patio. He decided to leave them out there until he got back.

He stopped at the store and wasn't surprised to find the front door wasn't locked. He went inside, past the long shelves of nonperishable food and the separate area that contained a decent selection of tools, and stopped in front of the office door. Last time he was here he had told his father he would marry Sadie. The memory of that day was never far from his mind.

He hesitated to knock on the door, not wanting to disturb her. Yet he didn't feel right leaving without seeing her. He quietly knocked on the door and waited for a response. When he didn't get one right away, he lifted his hand to knock again, only to lower it when she opened the door.

“
Ya?
” she said, her tone cross, the shadows under her eyes prominent. Whatever sleep she'd gotten last night wasn't enough. Strangely, he had slept better than he had in months.

“I'm heading out. Going to pack up
mei
hives.” He flinched at her cranky gaze.

“You don't have to check in with me.”

“I know.” He stared at the tip of his dusty work boots. “But I want to.” When he looked up at her, she was eyeing him oddly. “Do you have a dog?”

She shook her head. “
Nee
.”

“Have you seen one around here lately? He's brown and white . . . nice dog. I gave him some food last night.”

“I haven't seen any dogs.”

He bristled a bit at her tone. “I'll see you later,” he said, backing away.

She didn't respond, but she didn't close the door either. He could feel her gaze almost boring into his back as he walked away from the office.

He stepped out into the chilly morning air. The sun had hidden behind layers of flat, grayish clouds. The season was changing, shifting from summer to fall. He'd have to winterize the beehives soon. He walked toward the backyard and surveyed the area, searching for the right place to put the hives. They couldn't be too near the house or the barn. The Schrocks' property was bordered with thick woods along the back, in a semicircle configuration. He spotted a large oak tree, the gigantic branches thick with green leaves that were starting to show spots of vibrant orange and crimson. He walked to the tree, paced out the space where he could put his hives, and looked at the area with satisfaction. Yes, his bees would be happy here.

Aden turned toward the barn, intent on hitching Rusty to the buggy, but he stopped mid-stride. He listened to the birds twittering, recognizing a robin, blue jay, cardinal, and finch. His boots rested on a carpet of too-tall but lush green grass. He'd have to mow it soon. The property contained a sturdy barn, a small but weedy garden, a tool shed, the house, and of course, the store. Was it wrong that he already felt at home here? It had to be, since the only reason he was here was because Sadie's parents had died. The thought sobered him.

A short while later, Aden arrived at his parents' house, carrying his beekeeper clothes. He planned to slip into the backyard, get the hives, and leave before he was noticed. But he couldn't do that to his mother, remembering the strained look on her face when he told her good-bye yesterday. He started to open the door and walk inside, then realized he didn't live here anymore. Out of respect he knocked instead.

His father answered, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Aden. I didn't expect to see you here so soon. I thought you'd want to spend time with
yer
new bride.”

“Sadie is working in the store today.”

“I see.”

Aden stood on the porch, waiting to be invited inside. But instead his father stepped outside and shut the door. He pulled out his pipe, already filled with tobacco.

“Is
Mamm
home?” Aden asked.

Daed
lit the pipe and blew out a few puffs of smoke before answering. “She's busy in the kitchen.” He glanced at Aden's clothes. “Are you here to gather honey? I noticed our supplies were low.”