A Reluctant Bride (24 page)

But things were different now. He was married. He had his own house, technically, even though he still thought of it as Sadie's. He had more freedom than ever before. He was a grown man. He deserved to be treated like one.

His father turned away and started walking back to the house, so sure that Aden would do whatever he was told. Like he always had.

Maybe now was the time for him to take a stand. Maybe it was time for him to finally tell his father that he deserved respect.

“Oh, and Aden?” The bishop turned around and faced him. “If I don't have the papers by the middle of next week, there will be consequences.”

Aden lifted his chin. He could take those consequences. He'd been taking them all his life.

“But they won't be for you,” he added. “They'll be for Sadie.”

Aden stilled.

“We have an understanding, I see.”

Aden nodded slowly, pressing down the anger, fighting the desire to lash out at his father the way he had at Sol. It was one thing for his father to threaten him, but this was totally different.
Not only did he have to protect his wife from Sol, but from his father.
How is this God's will?

He caught up to his father, tamping down his frustration and bewilderment, pretending that he was unaffected, like he had done so many times in the past. When they walked by the barn, the bishop stopped. “Is that Solomon's buggy?”

“
Ya
.”

“What's it doing here?”

Aden ran his palm over the back of his aching neck. His entire body was starting to pulse with painful tension. “He stopped by this morning.”

The bishop peered at him. “What did he want?”

“To visit.”

“And how was
yer
visit?”

Aden paused. “Fine.”

“Strange,” his father said, looking at the vehicle, “that he would leave his buggy here. Where did he
geh
?”

“He didn't say.”

His father glanced at him, didn't say anything else, and walked toward the house.

Aden let out a long, relieved breath. As he followed his father to the broken back door, he steeled himself for another line of questioning. But
Daed
walked inside as if the house were his and not Aden's and Sadie's. Aden followed a few steps behind, ready for his father to leave.

When Aden crossed the threshold, he inhaled the savory scent of vegetable soup and the comforting smell of baking biscuits. His mother was washing her hands at the sink while Sadie set the table. Unfortunately there were four plates, Aden noticed.

His father noticed too. “We won't be staying,” he said. “I have work to do at home.”

Aden almost leaned against the wall with relief.

His mother turned around, and Aden saw the disappointment in her eyes. They hadn't had a chance to visit, and he could see she had wanted to. Sadie wisely didn't say anything and went back to the stove to stir the soup.

“I almost forgot, Aden.” The bishop looked at him again. “Have you made plans to replace
yer
beehives?”

He felt Sadie's questioning gaze on him as he answered. “
Ya.
But it looks like I won't be able to until spring.”

His father frowned. “That's too bad. I'm sure we'll all be glad when
yer
business is up and running again.
Kumme
, Rhoda. Let's leave the newlyweds to their lunch.”

Aden's mother nodded. She started to go to the bishop when Aden put a hand on her arm. “I'll visit you soon,” he said.

“That would be
gut
.” His
mamm
smiled, and Aden felt a little better about letting her leave with his father. After they were gone, he felt the tension that had strained his shoulders start to lessen.

But when he looked at Sadie, the strain returned. She didn't say anything for a long moment. She only stared at him, her expression inscrutable, making him squirm beneath her gaze. What had she and
Mamm
talked about while he was gone? Surely his mother hadn't revealed anything. She, like him and Sol, had become masters at keeping family business private.

Sadie sat down at the table. She looked at him and said, “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER 14

E
mmanuel pulled out of Aden's and Sadie's driveway and onto the road, making sure to maintain his outward calm at seeing Solomon's buggy at the Schrocks'. He'd seen through Aden's evasive answers to his questions. Something had happened between his sons, and he had to find the truth.

“I will drop you off at Lydia Lapp's,” he said, tapping the reins on the back of his horse's flanks so she would pick up her steps. Lydia lived down the street from the Schrocks, and she and Rhoda were good friends. It wouldn't look strange for his wife to drop in unannounced.

“Lydia's? But—”

“I'll pick you up as soon as I finish
mei
church business.”

After a pause she said, “All right.”

He relaxed slightly, grateful for the one person in his family who would obey without question—Rhoda. She'd never rebelled. Never gave him any trouble. He had to think, and he couldn't do that if he had to defend his decisions or come up with acceptable explanations. Even now she stared straight ahead and
said nothing, which was what Emmanuel needed from her. She'd always known what he needed.

After he dropped off Rhoda at the Lapps' he headed to see Solomon. He knew where his son was. He fought for patience as he turned down a dirt road. On either side the stubble of harvested cornstalks pushed through the soil. Emmanuel couldn't fathom that despite naming his son after the wisest man who ever lived, that same son could be so reckless. So shortsighted. So stupid.

The road dead-ended at a grove of trees. He parked his buggy in the shade and walked into the woods. No one else in the community knew of this place, except for Solomon, who accidentally stumbled across it almost three years ago. Emmanuel found it years before when he was looking for the perfect place to start his new community after breaking away from his district in Holmes County. After leaving his family behind forever.

As it usually did when he was here, the past intruded on his thoughts. Sometimes he wondered how his brother, John, and their mother, Deborah, were faring. He hadn't had contact with them since he and Rhoda moved away. She had also left her family, and while it had been hard for her in the beginning, she understood why he had to leave. They had no future in Holmes . . . because of his father. Mahlon Troyer had destroyed almost everything in his family's life, and his actions had affected the community.

Emmanuel stepped over a fallen birch tree, his teeth grinding. He'd asked John and their mother to come with him, but they wouldn't leave his father. They had been loyal to his drunken, worthless father, and nothing he said had changed their minds.

He halted his steps and took a deep breath, letting the cool
air of the woods soothe him. He needed to focus on the present, not on a past he'd left far behind.

The copse of trees grew denser as he walked across the leaf-strewn ground, stepping over more fallen dead trees and other detritus. Fifteen minutes later he came upon a small shack, so old the wood was furled and decaying. He didn't know how long the shack had been there or who had built it. But it was serving an important purpose—and unfortunately, possibly as a hideout for his wayward son.

He opened the door and scowled. For once he wished he hadn't been right. Solomon was passed out in the center of the buckling wood floor, an empty whisky bottle beside him. A flashback to his father flickered through Emmanuel's mind, but he shoved it away, stepped over Solomon, and went to the back corner of the room. He crouched behind a rotting wooden chair, ignoring the creak of his knees, and pulled out the bottom slat of wood flooring. He removed the steel fireproof box from its hiding place and set it on the floor. Fortunately the lock didn't look tampered with.

His fingers pulled out the pin fastening the collar of his shirt, then he pulled out a thin leather cord that hung around his neck. A key dangled at the end, and he inserted it into the lock, which opened easily. Shuffling through the papers and stacks of money, he made sure nothing was missing. When the contents were accounted for, he sat back and let out a long breath of relief. This box was his bank, his security. Although the money belonged to the community, he was the one who had to keep it safe.

A million dollars was nothing to be trifled with.

He closed the lid, locked the box, and put it back where it belonged under the floorboard. After he tucked the key underneath his shirt, he stood and pinned the fabric closed at the neck.
His gaze landed on Solomon and narrowed. His footsteps thudded against the warped wood as he walked over to his son and kicked him in the ribs.

“Oof.” Solomon curled up like a baby and groaned. He opened one eye, then the other, his gaze widening as he looked up at Emmanuel.

Anger pulsed through him as Solomon's face morphed into Mahlon's. At times it was hard to look at Solomon without being assaulted by memories, especially when he smelled like a distillery. Emmanuel yanked him to his knees. “Get up.”

Solomon didn't say anything as he complied. He stood on unsteady legs, his head lowered.

Emmanuel took in his son's matted hair and the streak of dirt on the side of his face where it had made contact with the floor. His shirt was half tucked into the waistband of his pants. He wasn't going to bother censuring him this time—it didn't work on his hard-nosed son. “What were you doing at Aden's this morning?”

Solomon wiped the spit that had slipped from the corner of his mouth. “He's
mei bruder
. Am I not allowed to see him anymore?”

“
Yer
sarcastic tone is not welcome.” Emmanuel moved closer to Solomon until they were face-to-face. It was at that point Emmanuel realized his son wasn't drunk, but exceedingly hung over. “
Yer
presence here is also unwelcome. I thought you knew that.”

“Yet you found me here anyway,” Solomon scoffed, then winced. “Don't worry, I'm alone. I didn't break any of
yer
rules.”

“You seem to have forgotten the most important one.”

“Exactly which one is that? There are
so
many to remember.”

Fed up with his insolence, Emmanuel's hand cracked against
Solomon's cheek. “You are not to be here without
mei
permission.” He slapped him again. “You are not to be here without me being present.” He slapped him a third time. “You are never, ever,
ever
to touch the strongbox.”

The strikes seemed to have knocked some sobriety into Solomon. His eyes grew wide. “
Daed
, I didn't touch the box. I wouldn't do that.” His shoulders dipped. “I just needed a place to lay low for a while. To clear
mei
head.”

“With spirits?” Emmanuel reached up as if he were going to strike Solomon again. Fear flashed in his son's eyes.
Good.
Emmanuel gave Solomon's flaming cheek a pat. “Alcohol clouds the judgment and weakens the spirit. I believe that is what has happened to you, Solomon. Your imbibing has caused you to be reckless—
nee
, dangerous—to our
familye
and community.”

Solomon paled, his bloodshot eyes standing out in the faint sunbeams shining through the weak wood. “I don't understand.”

“Then let me make it perfectly clear for you. You have given in to the weaknesses of drink, which is a gateway to other deadly sins. By allowing evil into
yer
life, you have sinned against God and against our community. You must leave Birch Creek. Immediately.”

“Wait, what?”

“You are in the
bann
.” Emmanuel turned and walked away from Solomon, keeping his back to him. A dramatic, but necessary gesture.

“Daed . . . nee!”
Solomon dashed in front of him. “I'll repent. I'll admit
mei
drinking . . . and then I'll stop. I promise.” Tears filled his desperate eyes.

But Emmanuel wasn't moved. Mahlon Troyer had been given more chances than he deserved, and nothing changed. Solomon was traveling down that same destructive path. This
corrupt weed had to be dug out at the root and cast away—family or not. He put his back to Solomon again. “You are not allowed near members of this community. If you violate the
bann
, you will receive no pardon here. You will find no refuge with
yer mudder
or
bruder
or any other
familye
in Birch Creek. They will all be instructed to turn you away.”

“
Daed
, you can't do this. You can't abandon me.”

Emmanuel glanced over his shoulder. “It is you who have abandoned us. You have chosen drink over
yer
community.
Yer familye
.” His eyes narrowed. “You've chosen sin over God.” He started to leave when Solomon's tortured voice stopped him cold.