A Reluctant Bride (21 page)

He had established this settlement, and he was determined to see it thrive.

Sadie stared in shock as Sol staggered toward her, the stench of alcohol coming off him in fumes. “Sol,
nee
!” She tried to shut the door against him, but even drunk—or hung over, she had no idea which—he was too strong for her. He shoved her aside and almost tumbled into the kitchen.

“Is that any way to greet your brother-in-law?” His gaze clumsily roamed around the kitchen before landing on the table. “Breakfast for one?” He swung his unsteady frame and faced her. “How sad. Guess the honeymoon's over.”

“Leave, Sol.”

“I think I'll stay a while.” He yanked out a chair.

If he was staying, then
she
was leaving. She started for the door, but Sol was suddenly behind her, grabbing her by the arm and jerking her back into the room.

He slammed the door and turned the lock. “You don't want to do that again.”

His dank breath was heavy in her face, his bloodshot eyes staring her down with alarming clarity. “What do you want?” she said, pulling out of his grasp.

“To talk.” He lifted both his hands and stepped back. “Just . . . talk.”

“I have
nix
to say to you.”

He plunked down on the edge of the table, his thigh less than an inch from her arm. “But I have something to say to you.” He leaned over and whispered, “I know
yer
marriage is fake.”

Her lips trembled, and she was too slow to deny his accusation.

He let out a bitter-smelling chuckle and moved back from her. His head lolled a bit before he leveled his gaze at her again. “He loves you.”

Sadie's eyes widened. “What?”

“That's why he married you.” Sol pushed up from the table and closed the space between them. “But he's weak.”

“Aden is not weak,” Sadie snapped.

He moved closer to her, his stronger, taller body crowding hers, filling her with fear—and making her feel like a terrified sixteen-year-old all over again. “I can take care of you, Sadie,” he said, his voice low. “Like a
mann
should.”

“Sol,” she begged. “Please . . .”

“Please what?” He inched closer. “Aden isn't here.” He gave her a crooked smirk. “Even if he was . . . he wouldn't stand up to me. He never has.”

As Aden neared Sadie's house—his house, he had to remind himself—he tried to stem his frustration. What had started out as a trip to Miller's hardware to order new hives ended up being a waste of time. Zeb Miller had stopped ordering from the company Aden usually used, and the company he did work with that had bees and beehive supplies not only had outrageous prices, they couldn't guarantee the bees would be delivered before November, which meant he might as well wait until spring to
start the hives. His other alternative was to hire a taxi to take him to the local library in Langston, a small town outside of Birch Creek, so he could use the Internet to order the bees. If he got caught doing that he'd be in big trouble. They'd require him to confess in front of the congregation for his sin and to promise he would stay away from “evil” technology for the rest of his life.

The thing was, he didn't find technology evil. He did think it was superfluous, except in cases like this. But he didn't regard it with as much suspicion as most of the people in his community. Life was simple in Birch Creek . . . at least on the outside.

As he approached the driveway, he wasn't sure what to do about the hives. He missed the bees. He missed having something of his own. Yet his business had never truly been his own, since he had to give almost all the money to his father. But now that he was married, the business would be his.
Ours. It will be ours
. He smiled wryly to himself. Sadie didn't care about bees. What she cared about was her store and her sisters, and he respected that more than she would ever know. But eventually he hoped she would want to partner with him in his business, and she would let him be a part of hers.

A pipe dream, probably. Yet not one he was willing to give up.

Distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice the buggy in the Schrocks' driveway until he had turned onto the gravel drive. Alarm hit him like a lightning strike. Sol was here.

Aden yelled for his horse to stop, then jumped out of his buggy. His eyes shot from the store to the house, unsure where to go first. He dashed to the store and tried opening the door. It was locked.

“Sadie!” He waited, listening for her to respond. When she didn't, he ran to the house. He looked through the back door window, saw Sol hovering over Sadie. Saw her paralyzed with
fear. Aden turned the knob, but it didn't move . . . and he didn't have a key. Then he saw Sol touch his wife.

Something inside him exploded.

“Sol, please!” She couldn't believe she was trapped with Sol again. Her whole body shook, and she was more afraid than she'd been six years ago.

He was bigger now, stronger, more determined . . . and very drunk. Gripping her upper arm, his mouth moved closer to hers.

“I'm
yer bruder
's wife,” she managed to say.

He stopped, his mouth close to hers, his breath and nearness making the sip of Aden's coffee rebel in her stomach. Sol stared at her, the light green eyes that resembled Aden's searching her face, then becoming glazed over, as if he were struggling with something inside.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

That seemed to pull him out of his stupor. His jaw jerked as his hold on her tightened. “Because I can.”

Lord . . . nee . . .

The back door broke open. Sadie turned as Sol released her, relief shuddering through her when she saw Aden. He stood in the doorway, his freckled face blazing red, his eyes looking like dark green fire as the door slammed against the wall and fell off one hinge.

Sol straightened, only to lose his balance. He grabbed the edge of the table, but his defying gaze remained on Aden. “Breaking down a door. Didn't know you had it in you.”

With a yell that resembled a roar, Aden charged at Sol, his straw hat hitting the floor. He seized the front of his brother's
shirt and slammed Sol back against the table. Hovering over him, he growled, “Stay away from
mei frau
.”

Sadie couldn't breathe. Veins were pulsing against the skin of Aden's neck as he continued to keep Sol pinned down.

Sol's drunken eyes widened and he lifted his hands. “Aden—”

Aden yanked Sol up, glaring at him.

Shock registered on Sol's face, which twisted into anger. He swung back and delivered a punch.

Sadie covered her face with her hands, expecting Aden to hit the ground. She peeked through her fingers. Aden had blocked his brother's blow and now had Sol's arms pinned behind his back. Aden shoved him toward the splintered doorway.

“If I see you near her again, you'll regret it,” Aden said, his chin hovering above Sol's contorted shoulder.

Somehow Sol managed to pull out of Aden's grip, although Sadie suspected Aden had released him at the same time. He stumbled forward a few steps before turning around and shaking out his shoulders. “You'll be sorry you did that, Aden.” But he still looked stunned and off-kilter by what had happened.

“
Nee
,” Aden said evenly. “I won't.”

Sadie moved her hands from her face. She gulped for air as she looked at Aden, who was also breathing heavily. His face was still red, his eyes still wild. The anger and violence she'd witnessed scared her to the core.

She dashed out of the kitchen and ran upstairs to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Aden leaned against the table, struggling for air, trying to regain his bearings. It was as if his mind had left his body the moment he
saw Sol put his hand on Sadie, replaced with white hot, blinding rage. In that moment he hadn't been afraid of Sol or shocked by the intensity of his own anger. All he'd wanted was to keep Sadie safe.

That's not all I wanted.

He'd also wanted to pummel Sol unconscious, to unleash the years of pent-up fury he'd contained. And through the darkness of his rage, he saw the helplessness in Sol's eyes. That had brought him a moment of clarity, but it wasn't the only thing that held him back.

When he saw Sadie cowering from fear, he couldn't bring himself to hit Sol. Now she was upstairs, afraid, probably of him as much as she was of Sol. He rubbed his hand over his perspiring face. What was he supposed to do now?

Care for your wife.

The words scratched against his brain like a nail scraping a rusty tin can. He didn't know how to care for Sadie. He made terrible coffee, he had no idea if the eggs he'd boiled this morning were done when he put them on the plate, and last night when she was upset all he could talk about were his stupid bees. He was awkward, clueless. He thought she'd seen him at his worst when she found out about the bruises. He'd been wrong.

His breathing slowing, he wiped the sweat from his face, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. He picked up his hat off the floor and tossed it onto the table. Shame filled him as he walked up the stairs. He doubted she would even talk to him. But he had to try. He had to tell her that he'd never fought back before. He had to convince her that she didn't have to fear him the way she feared Sol.

But how could he do that when his anger had scared him?

He knocked on her bedroom door, prepared for her to send
him away. She didn't answer and he was tempted to leave. But this wasn't something he could run from or pretend didn't happen. He waited a few seconds before knocking again. This time she opened the door, but didn't move to let him in.

“Sadie, I'm—”

“Sorry?” Her body was mostly hidden by the door, as if she were using it as a shield. “You scared me, Aden. You both did.”

“I know. But that wasn't me. I mean, it was, but I've never . . . I . . .” The words stopped. How could he explain his past? Would she believe him if he did? He backed away, swallowing the fire in his throat, desperate to go somewhere and hide, like he had done so many times in his life.
You're weak
, his father always said. He hated that his
daed
was right.