A Reluctant Bride (16 page)

“I'm moving the hives.”

Daed
blew out another puff of smoke. “Why?”

Because they're mine.
“It will be easier to take care of them at . . . at
mei haus
.”

“How will disturbing them be easier?”

“They'll acclimate to their new home. It won't take me long to move them.”

His father put his hand on his arm. He squeezed, his fingers digging into Aden's flesh. “And what of the honey sales?”

“I don't understand.”

“I assume our arrangement will still stand? That you will keep the commandment to honor
yer
mother and father? That you will still contribute to the care of
yer
parents who have given you so much?” Before Aden could answer, his father spoke again. “Although you are to cleave to
yer
wife now, do not forget
yer
loyalty to
yer familye
.”

“Sol is still here.”

“What does Solomon have to do with
yer
duty?”

Aden squared his shoulders. Something about knowing he wasn't stuck living under the same roof as his father bolstered his courage. “He makes a
gut
living as a carpenter. I'm sure he can replace the small income I provided you.”

“
Yer
brother's financial affairs aren't
yer
business.” He let
geh
of Aden's arm and blew a puff of smoke close to his face. “I'm disappointed, Aden. You would be so selfish with the bounty our heavenly Father has provided you? Not only the honey, but the gift of a wife who comes with vast financial resources?”

“What?”

“A family business. One that you will be expected to take over.”

Not if Sadie has her say. Aden could run the store and delegate Sadie to taking care of the house and garden. He was experienced in sales and simple accounting, and he knew he
could easily learn how to manage other aspects of the grocery and tool store. But he also knew how much the business meant to her, and he wouldn't cross that line, not when she had already lost so much.

“I will be more than willing to guide you in
yer
new business venture.” His father took another puff of the pipe and blew out two perfect smoke rings. “Perhaps you won't have to deal with the bees for much longer.”

“I didn't start beekeeping to make money.”

“I know.”
Daed
waved his pipe. “It was a hobby. But hobbies must be useful. They must serve a purpose. Otherwise you're wasting time.”

“Beekeeping isn't a waste of time.” Aden could feel the familiar squeezing of his chest. His father had never respected his line of work, even though he had no problem taking the profits.

“
Nee
, it isn't, now that you're able to earn a real income.” He waved his pipe in front of him. “Enough of this conversation. You have work to tend to. Make haste with the bees, Aden. You need to get started on
yer
new job as storekeeper.”

“That won't be happening anytime soon.”

His father moved closer. They were nearly the same size, with Aden less than an inch taller. “Is that
yer
decision or Sadie's?”

“We've been married less than a day.” Aden shifted his feet. “I'm not going to upset her life any more than it already is.”

“You are the head of the relationship,” his father said in the same tone he used during his sermons. “It is
yer
responsibility to put
yer frau
in her place.”

Aden bit the inside of his cheek, the familiar pound of anxiety reverberating in his head. Sadie's place was fine as far as Aden was concerned. He didn't see any reason why she shouldn't run the store. But his father always had a different view of a woman's
role in the community. Aden's mother was a prime example. She was quiet. Meek. Never raised her voice, rarely questioned her husband and never in public. Never ventured beyond the accepted female role of housekeeper and caretaker. And never, ever interfered with the bishop's decisions.

“Do we have an understanding,
sohn
?”

Aden looked at his father. What choice did he have but to agree? “
Ya
. You'll get the money you deserve.”

His father smiled, his grin so similar to Sol's it was unnerving. “To worry is to give in to the devil's schemes, Aden. That is something I never do.” He lowered his voice. “I'm pleased we have kept our agreement concerning the honey sales. I didn't want to have to explain to
yer mudder
the selfish nature of her youngest
sohn
.”

Aden didn't see how keeping the money he made from his bees was selfish. If his parents were experiencing financial hardship, he wasn't aware of it. And if they were, he'd do whatever he could to help.

Daed
took one long puff on his pipe, then opened the front door. “I'll let you get to
yer
bees.” He stepped inside, the door closing behind him.

Aden's shoulders slumped. No invitation for coffee, no offer to see his mother. When would he stop expecting more from his family? Every time he did, the disappointment chipped away at him.

He hurried and put on his beekeeper clothes over his regular clothing, eager to be done with the task. It would take two trips to get all the bees to the Schrocks'. He'd have to unhitch his buggy and hitch the horse to an old cart he'd used in the past, which he would use to transport the bees. Then he would return and retrieve his buggy. Hopefully by this evening the bees would
be introduced to their new home. With careful attention they would acclimate to their new surroundings and possibly even vary the flavor of their current output since they would be pollinating different flowers at the Schrocks'. He was enthusiastic about seeing the changes, enough so to make him forget about yet another disheartening conversation with his father.

He was putting on his protective headgear as he rounded the corner of the house and entered the backyard. He was halfway to his hives when he looked up, then froze.

The hives were in pieces.

He ran toward them. A few disoriented bees buzzed around the crushed hives, as if lost. Aden knelt in front of the wooden frames that looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. He noticed the screens had been scraped clean before they were shredded.

Anger brewed inside as he thought of the hours he'd spent constructing the hives, cultivating the honey, caring for the bees. How many books he'd read on beekeeping techniques and pollination, hoping one day he would have his own garden with a variety of flowers and vegetables, possibly even some new varieties he would create himself. A dream that had seemed possible moments ago.

Now a crushed dream, and he knew who was to blame.

He rose, kicked at a broken frame, and tore off his head covering. He stormed back to the house, plowing through the back door, where his mother was kneading a ball of bread dough. By the way she jumped he knew he'd scared her, but he was too furious to apologize.

“Where is
Daed
?” he demanded.

“Aden, I didn't know you were here.” His mother started to stand, but Aden's glare pinned her in place.

“I need to see him. Now.”

His father came into the room, his face calm but his lips set in a tight line. “Aden, why are you upsetting
yer mudder
—”

“The hives,” he said, approaching his father until he stood only inches from him. He was crossing the line of respect, but his fury cleared all rational thought. “Someone destroyed them.”

Daed
's graying brows shot up. “What?”

“You don't know anything about this?” He fisted his hands, the urge to physically lash out at his father almost overwhelming him. “Don't tell me you didn't know!”

“Aden.”

He felt his mother's small, steadying hand on his shoulder. It brought him back to reality, but didn't soothe his rage. He took a step back. She positioned herself between him and his father.

“I
didn't
know,”
Daed
said. A flicker passed across his eyes so quickly Aden barely saw it—and it confirmed his suspicions.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sol.”

“Solomon wouldn't have done such a thing,” his father said.

Aden looked at his mother, who glanced away. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was.

“Solomon knew not to touch the hives. I told him to leave them alone,” his father said.

Aden scowled. “Perhaps you don't control him like you think you do.”

His father's face pinched. “You will not talk to me that way—”

Aden walked out, not waiting around to hear another word about how disrespectful he was . . . what a lousy
sohn
he'd always been . . . how weak and worthless he would always be.

He climbed into the buggy without taking off his beekeeping clothes. Only then did he realize he'd been stung several
times by the bees that were out of sorts now that their home was gone. Slapping the reins on the flanks of his horse, he urged him on, wanting to get as far away from his father, and his broken dreams, as possible.

Sadie finished counting the tool supplies on the shelves in the back of the store. The grocery was divided into two separate areas—one for food and household goods, the other strictly for a variety of garden and farm tools—all
Ordnung
approved, of course. She wrote down how many screwdrivers were in the last bin on the bottom shelf, then went back into the office and sat down, exhausted from stress, lack of sleep, suppressed grief, a marriage she didn't want—the list of things dragging at her seemed endless.

She went through the inventory and made a separate list of what she needed to order. That task finished, she sat back in the chair and looked at the desk, knowing she had to tackle the paperwork sooner rather than later. She'd already started a pile for the bills from the accident. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk and sighed. What a mess.

Needing a change of scenery, Sadie stood and arched her aching back. She turned off the lamp and locked the office, then the front door of the store. Even though the sign on the door showed Closed, she didn't want any customers who might show up to try to get into the store.

She headed for the house, glad that Aden would be busy for most of the day. At least she assumed he would—she really had no idea how long it took to transfer beehives. She wasn't ready to face him for more than a few minutes, which was why
she'd gotten up so early. That and the fact that she couldn't sleep knowing he was only a hallway away. They would have to talk to each other sometime soon, but she would put that off as long as possible.

She thought about the bills and invoices in her father's office. Maybe he did have a plan for getting his business out of debt and she hadn't found it yet. Even though Bishop Troyer thought she needed a husband to handle the store, she didn't, and a part of her wanted to prove it. It wouldn't change her marital status, but she would feel more competent again. Other than her sisters, her confidence in herself as a businesswoman was all she had left.

Sadie decided to search her parents' bedroom, which on the surface was more organized than the mess in the office. But as she neared the back door that led to the kitchen, her stomach twisted in knots. She hadn't gone near her parents' bedroom, other than last night. Still, she trudged on, determined to put her grief aside.

But when she opened the back door, she froze, her mouth falling open at the sight of Aden standing by the kitchen table, his shirt halfway over his head, the lower part of his body clad in a pair of strange-looking white pants. Her face reddened at seeing him in the middle of undressing, and she was about to chastise him for stripping down in her kitchen. Yet the words stuck in her throat when she got a better look at his torso . . . and saw the array of purplish bruises covering his skin.

CHAPTER 8