A Reluctant Bride (3 page)

Sol cursed at her as he folded over in pain and dropped to the ground. She raced away, not caring if he was hurt.
He deserved it.
As she fought her way through the cornstalks, she prayed she was going in the right direction. When she cleared the field, she saw the road. Somehow she managed to be near the ice bags. She snatched them up and ran as fast as she could toward the store, throwing one last glance over her shoulder to make sure Sol wasn't following her.

When she got inside the store, she slammed the door behind her, gasping for breath.
Mamm
looked up from behind the cash register.

“Sadie. What on earth?”

“I'm . . . fine.” Sadie forced a smile.
I'm fine . . . I'm fine.

“I'm glad you're fine, but why did you slam the door?”

“Didn't . . . mean to.”

Mamm
moved from behind the counter and took the ice. “What did you do, run all the way from the cooler?”

“
Ya.
Didn't want the ice to melt.”

Mamm
looked at the dripping bags. “Sadie, you didn't have to run. Whatever melts will freeze right back up.” She gave her a concerned look. “Why is
yer
dress dirty?”

Sadie glanced down and saw the dust and hay from the cornfield scattered across the pale blue fabric of her dress. “I tripped,” she said flatly.

“Are you hurt?”

Yes.
“
Nee
. Just clumsy.”

“
Ach
,
yer
cheeks are red and you're sweating.” She lifted her lips in a kind smile. “
Geh
to the house and cool down. Change
yer
dress too. Next time, don't be in such a hurry.”

Sadie nodded and left. She rushed to the house, locking the bathroom door behind her even though she knew Sol wouldn't—he
couldn't
—follow her home. She'd left him curled up on the ground in the cornfield.

She went to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed water on her hot face. She touched her lips with wet fingertips, shame and disgust filling her.
My first kiss . . .

She switched off the tap and gripped the sides of the counter, fighting back tears. Her arms ached from Sol's hard grip, and she knew her skin would show the bruises soon. She'd have to hide them with long sleeves, then come up with a plausible explanation when people asked why she was wearing a cold-weather dress in the harsh heat of summer.

But she refused to cry. Sol wasn't worth her tears. She let the anger pulse through her, not just anger toward Sol but also
toward his brother. Aden knew what was going to happen. She'd seen the fear in his eyes. But he'd turned tail and deserted her. In her mind, he was just as guilty as Sol.

Clenching her fists, she knew she could never say anything about what happened. Not to her parents or to Sol's. If she did, Sol would lie about what happened, and his father, who had been the bishop in Birch Creek all her life, would believe him. The bishop was held in high regard in the community. No one would go against him.

She had no choice but to forget it ever happened and make sure she would never be taken advantage of again. She spat into the sink, trying to purge the memory. She lifted her head, glared at the mirror . . . and vowed never to let Sol or Aden Troyer near her for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER 1

S
IX YEARS LATER

S
adie, hurry up! We're going to be late!”

Sadie lifted an eyebrow as the door to her room opened. Her sister Abigail huffed in frustration.

“You're not even ready.” Abigail walked into the room, Joanna close on her heels.

Sadie returned her attention to the book spread out on her lap. “I'm not going.” She crossed her ankles as she stretched out on her bed.

“But you promised you'd
geh
this time.” Abigail looked down on Sadie, her forehead furrowing above her thick light brown eyebrows.

“I don't recall promising.” Sadie turned a page, pretending to be absorbed in the book she was reading. “I recall saying maybe.”

“Maybe is close enough.”

“Maybe means
maybe
.” Sadie glanced up at her youngest sister. Joanna stood a few steps behind Abigail, quiet as usual,
her chestnut eyes wide and filled with innocent sweetness. Sadie peered at her around Abigail's shoulder. “You're not going to say anything in
mei
defense?”

“I'm a neutral observer.”

Sadie chuckled. “Chicken.” She looked at Abigail again. “Just so we're clear, I have no plans to
geh
to the singing tonight. I do have plans to spend the evening reading this fascinating book.”

Abigail smirked as she peered down at the title at the top of one page. “
The Basics of Accounting
?”

“We all have to start somewhere.” Sadie lifted the book in front of her, blocking her view of Abigail. She heard her sister blow out an exasperated breath.

“Sadie, please. You never
geh
to the Sunday singings anymore. Or to much of anything else, other than church. How are you going to get a
mann
if you don't make an effort?”

For the past two years her sister had been singularly focused on her own dating life. But that didn't mean she needed to extend that interest to Sadie's. “Who says I want a
mann
?”

“You
need
a
mann
.”

Sadie set down the book, her mirth evaporating. “
Mamm
sent you up here, didn't she?”

Abigail shook her head, while Joanna nodded. Abigail turned around, glanced at Joanna, and rolled her eyes. “Fine.
Mamm
sent us. She said if you didn't
geh
tonight, we couldn't
geh
either.”

Sadie sat up and dropped her book on top of the quilt. “That's not fair.”

“That's what I said.” Abigail put her hands on her slender waist. “But she was serious.”

Sadie paused, stifling a groan of frustration. For the last couple of years, the same two years Abigail had been so focused on her
own prospects, their mother had been after Sadie to be more serious about finding a husband. Sadie wasn't interested in finding a husband, or even dating. Just the thought of being alone with a man, even a nice man, made her want to run in the opposite direction. But her mother had other ideas. Sadie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I'll
geh
talk to her.”

“It would be easier if you'd just
geh
to the singing.” Abigail dropped her arms. “C'mon, Sadie. It will be fun. You'll see
yer
friends.”

“The ones who haven't gotten married yet. I think that adds up to two.”

“So? There are still a couple of guys who aren't dating anyone.”

“For the last time, I'm
not
interested.”

Joanna moved to stand beside Abigail. A few inches shorter and three years younger than Sadie, she'd always tried not to get involved in her sisters' arguments. “You don't have to be interested in the
buwe
that way.” She smiled sweetly. “Just be nice.”

“In other words, don't be yourself,” Abigail added.

Joanna elbowed Abigail in the side. “You're not helping.”

“I don't care.” Abigail crossed her thin arms over her chest, acting more like a twelve-year-old than a twenty-year-old. “If we don't leave soon we're going to be late.” She glared at Sadie.

Sadie ran her palms over the skirt of her old sage dress. She and Abigail were evenly matched in the stubbornness department. But so were Sadie and their mother, and Sadie knew even if she went downstairs and tried to convince
Mamm
to let her sisters go to the singing without her,
Mamm
wouldn't change her mind. Appealing to her father wouldn't work either. He would say, “That's between you
maed
,” and then find a way to escape the room.

“Fine,” Sadie said, a knot forming in her stomach. “I'll
geh
. For a little while.”

Abigail and Joanna both grinned. “
Danki
,” Abigail said.

“Now, you two
geh
downstairs while I get ready.” She started for her dresser. “Where's the singing again?”

“Sadie, don't you ever pay attention?” Abigail said. “It's at the Troyers'.”

Sadie froze, and by the time she turned around to make an excuse—any excuse—for changing her mind, they had both left.

Her hand curled over the edge of her dresser, and the knot that had started to form in her stomach transformed into a full-blown ache. Why was her mother choosing
this
singing to take a stand?

She willed her pulse to slow. When that didn't work, she silently asked God to do it. Sadie looked at her reflection in the small oval mirror above her dresser. Her normally fair complexion was now paper white, and her stomach lurched at the thought of walking into Bishop Troyer's house.

When Abigail and Joanna were old enough to go to singings, she'd forced herself to go to the ones held at the Troyers' to ensure Sol stayed away from them, and she'd been relieved for the last year or two when he hadn't even made an appearance. To his credit—which he deserved very little, in her opinion—Sol had stayed away from her, and her sisters too, even at church services. Maybe he'd get married soon, since he was nearly twenty-five years old. Not that she'd wish Sol Troyer on anyone.

She knew why Abigail was so insistent on going tonight. It was no secret that she and Joel Zook were interested in each other. Joanna, as usual, just went along with whatever everyone else wanted. She was the most easygoing person Sadie knew.

She loved her sisters, and she didn't want to disappoint them. She didn't want to argue with her mother, either.

But the Troyers . . .

If she protested too much, her family would be suspicious and would start asking questions she didn't want to answer. And she couldn't risk the chance that Sol would be there. He couldn't be trusted. Abigail had Joel, but what if Sol tried to talk to Joanna?

She had to do this. Sadie closed her eyes, then opened them again as she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

She would get through it . . . somehow.

Lord . . . help me.

Sadie quickly slipped into a nicer dress, black stockings, and her black shoes. She checked the pins on her dress to make sure they were straight, ignored the trembling in her hands, then headed downstairs.

“I'm ready,” she said, tamping down her anxiety as she entered the living room.

Her mother looked up from the cooking magazine she was reading and smiled. “I'm glad you changed
yer
mind, Sadie.”

“I didn't have much choice,” she muttered. Even if she was going now with a purpose of her own, she didn't like her mother's slightly underhanded methods, although she understood
Mamm
had the best of intentions.

Although Sadie was certain her mother had heard her,
Mamm
's smile remained in place. “I'm sure you'll have a nice time,
dochder
. It will do you
gut
to get out of the
haus
and be among friends.”

Sadie forced a smile and nodded. “We won't be gone long.”

“Speak for yourself,” Abigail huffed.

“I am,” Sadie said, giving her a look.

“You
maed
take
yer
time.”
Mamm
glanced at
Daed
, who was lying back in the hickory rocking chair, his eyes closed and his
mouth partway open as he quietly snored.
Mamm
shrugged. “I'll say good-bye for him and let him sleep.”

“Bye,
Mamm
!” Abigail tugged on Sadie's sleeve as they walked out of the house. Joanna was standing by Sadie's buggy, the horse already hitched and ready to go. Sadie had bought both the buggy and the horse a year ago, after saving her money from working at the family store. Of course, her mother complained she worked too many hours, but Sadie loved to work. She enjoyed all aspects of the job—stocking shelves, ordering product, serving the customers. She'd started reading the accounting book and hoped she could convince her father to let her start managing the books, or at least help him with the store's accounts.

But most of all, and something she'd never admitted to anyone, was that the store was
safe
. When she was there, she didn't have to worry about Sol or Aden. By some miracle neither had stepped foot inside the store in years. Even if they had, between her family and the customers, she and her sisters were almost never alone. And when Bishop Troyer and his wife stopped by, she could always put on a smile and pretend she didn't resent their sons. She was happy with her life the way it was. She didn't want a man . . . and she certainly didn't need one.

“Sadie, hurry up,” Abigail said as she climbed into the buggy. Joanna scooted in next to her.