A Reluctant Bride (25 page)

“Do you know why I drink?” Solomon's approaching footsteps scraped against the floor.

Emmanuel didn't move.

“Turn around and face me!” Solomon screamed. “Take a
gut
look at what you've done.”

He couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder. Solomon's arms were splayed wide, tears flowing down his cheeks. Emmanuel looked away, repulsed by the emotional display.

“I took
mei
first drink at twelve,” Solomon said. “Did you know that? The exact day you told me to hit
mei bruder
.”

Flinching, Emmanuel focused straight ahead again.

“You told me it would make me stronger. Just like you said the whippings you gave me would make me more of a
mann
.” Solomon moved to stand in front of Emmanuel, blocking him from the door, his face red and raw with tears and pain. “I wanted to be a
mann
in
yer
eyes. I wanted
yer
respect.” He let out a wounded laugh. “It took me a while before I knew I could never earn it.”

Emmanuel's mouth flattened, his jaw jerking uncontrollably. “I didn't force the bottle to touch
yer
lips.”

“You might as well have.” He wiped his cheek with the back
of his hand. “When I drink,” he said, his voice lower, more in control, “I don't have to feel anything. I don't have to remember the past or think about the future. I can forget . . . even if it's only for a little while.”

Emmanuel stared at his son. His pathetic, hung-over, stench-ridden son. He'd tried so hard to guide Solomon, to give him the strength and character his eldest inwardly lacked. For the briefest of moments, a thought flitted through his mind.
Did I go too far?

He quickly came to his senses. He'd endured beatings from his father. He had administered similar ones to John. Neither of them had succumbed to drink. No, Solomon's decision to imbibe was his alone. Emmanuel refused to shoulder that responsibility. “God will deal with you,” he said to Solomon before shoving him aside.

“He'll deal with you, too,
auld mann
.”

Emmanuel closed his ears to his son's warning . . . and walked out of his life forever.

Aden's nerves were stretched to the edge as he sat across from Sadie. First the talk with his father, now Sadie wanted to have a conversation. Maybe she was just curious about what he and his father had discussed. He hoped not, because if she asked he would have to lie to her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
I promised to keep her safe.
If anything, his father's threat made him realize how much he wanted to keep that promise.

He rubbed his hands together and took a dramatic sniff of the air. “Lunch smells
appeditlich
. I'm starving.”

“You have a bad habit of changing the subject.”

“Sorry.” He sat down and braced himself.

To his surprise she gave him a small, shy smile as she sat across from him. Then she let out a sigh. “You were right.”

Curious, he contemplated her words. “Right about what?”

“Telling me I needed to visit
mei schwesters
. I do miss them.” She ran her finger against the top of the table. “I miss them very much.”

The yearning in her voice touched him. Strangely, he had been a little hurt when he found out she hadn't told her sisters about their marriage. He understood why she hadn't told them, but he couldn't help feeling as if she were ashamed of him. If she had married someone else, would she have already told them? He couldn't stop the nagging thought that she probably would have.

But this wasn't about him; it was about her reconnecting with her sisters. “When do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow. I'll make the arrangements for a taxi. I won't be gone long, just for the day. I'll be back in the evening.”

He glanced away. Unknowingly she had given him an opportunity to look for the papers his father wanted without her being suspicious. He still felt she needed to know about the natural gas rights, but he couldn't tell her. How many more secrets would he be forced to keep?

“So,” she said, sounding more tentative than he'd ever heard her, “you're still okay with me going?”

Aden couldn't stop his smile. She was asking his opinion, including him in her decision. “
Ya
,” he said, gently. “Enjoy
yer
visit. I'll take care of things here.” His smile dimmed at the tiny prick of guilt that appeared.

She rose from the chair and went to the stove. She lifted the pot and carried it to the blue-and-white quilted trivet on the table. He continued to watch her as she pulled the biscuits out
of the oven, the tops perfectly golden brown and smelling like heaven. As she put them on a plate, a feeling of contentment came over him. Not because he was watching her preparing lunch. That was something he'd seen his mother do hundreds of times.

No, the contented feeling stemmed from knowing she was serving lunch for the two of them, as if they were a normal married couple. Such a simple act, but it held so much meaning for him. She didn't have to make him a nice lunch or eat with him. She could have handed him a sandwich and gone to the store. She could have left him alone.

He was so tired of being alone.

She brought the biscuits to the table, and he smiled. She looked at him as she sat down, tilting her head to the side, the ribbons of her white
kapp
lying neatly against her pale blue dress.

“What?” he asked.

“You . . .” She cleared her throat. “You have a nice smile.”

He had no idea how to react. Compliments weren't something he received.

Her gaze shot down to the table. “We should, uh, pray.”

“
Ya
,” he said, still a little stunned. They prayed and she handed him the plate of biscuits.

“These look like
Mamm
's,” he said, taking two off the plate and trying to forget his pitiful response to the one compliment he'd gotten in years.

“They are.” She set down the plate and looked at him, her earlier shyness disappearing. “She told me she wants you to be happy, Aden.”

He nodded, smiling again. Because in that moment, despite the secrets, despite the pain of loss and the confusion of navigating a new life with Sadie, he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a very, very long time.

CHAPTER 15

T
he next morning, after nearly an hour's taxi ride to Middlefield, Sadie walked out of the elevator at Jones Rehabilitation Center and stopped in the middle of the hallway. The scent of antiseptic hit her straight on, reminding her of the hospital smell. Her stomach lurched at the memory, how worried she'd been during Joanna's surgery, how fresh the pain still was from her parents' deaths. She clutched the dark blue patchwork cloth bag she carried, one that Abigail had made for her fifteenth birthday, and said a silent prayer before seeing her sisters, not knowing what to expect.

She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand. Room 308. She searched for the sign on the wall that would direct her to Joanna's room. Once she found it, she followed the arrows until she reached the room.

She paused before walking in, still unsure of what to say to Abigail and Joanna about her marriage to Aden. On the ride to Middlefield she'd thought about how Patience had been right. She should have insisted on waiting until her sisters had returned
home before she married Aden. Bishop Troyer would have fought her on it, but she should have stood her ground.

Maybe if she had waited, she wouldn't have had to marry him at all.

But marriage to Aden hadn't been as horrible as she had expected. Yesterday their lunch together had been nice, even though she was mortified that she'd blurted out what she'd been thinking about his smile. It was true, though. He had a gorgeous, genuine smile, and when he'd flashed it yesterday her pulse had raced. Then he looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, and she regretted saying anything.

They'd spent the rest of the day and evening apart—she'd spent the day in the store to make sure everything was ready for opening on Monday and then preparing for this trip, while he'd worked on the yard again. She'd been in bed by the time she heard him come upstairs. Instead of lying with the quilt pulled up to her chin, she had been relaxed. She no longer worried about him coming to her room. In the back of her mind she knew eventually they would have to address this part of their relationship. But Aden still hadn't pressured her. Perhaps he wasn't ready either.

She sighed. She'd stalled long enough. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. It was open a crack, and she saw an empty hospital bed neatly made with white sheets. A beige curtain reached from ceiling to floor, dividing the room.

“Come in.”

When she heard Abigail's voice, something broke inside her. She hurried into the room, eager to see her sisters. Assuming they were on the other side of the curtain, she pushed it slightly to the side. Sure enough, Abigail was sitting in a chair, but next
to another empty bed. She lifted her head, her eyes growing wide, then jumped up from the chair.

“Sadie!” Abigail threw her arms around her. Sadie held her close, not wanting to let her sister go.

When Abigail released her and stepped back, Sadie saw the tears in her eyes, which made it more difficult for Sadie to keep her composure. “I'm so glad to see you,” Abigail said thickly. “Why didn't you call and let me know you were coming?”

“I'm sorry. I should have. It was a last-minute decision.”

“That's all right. I'm just glad you're here.”

“Me too.” And she was. Even though her stomach had been in knots the entire drive from Birch Creek, the sight of Abigail steadied her nerves. She glanced at the bed. “Where's Joanna?”

“At her morning therapy. She was up at 5:30 this morning, ready to get to work.” She reached for Sadie's hand. “We need to talk. But not here. She'll be back in ten minutes, and I don't want her to hear our conversation.”

Sadie set her bag on the small table near Joanna's bed that also held a plastic pitcher, cup, and a newspaper. “Where should we
geh
?”

“To the courtyard. It's very pretty there, and I need to get out of this room.”

Abigail led Sadie to a small garden retreat that was situated to the side of the rehabilitation building. Wooden benches were set in a square around a small brick water fountain. Leafy bushes and plants were everywhere, their vibrant green still untouched by the cooler evening temperatures that were signaling a shift to autumnal weather. Red, pink, purple, and gold annuals and perennials were interspersed throughout. Sadie had no idea what the names of the flowers were, but they were beautiful. She glanced
up to see a clear glass ceiling enclosing the courtyard so it could be enjoyed all year.

“
Gut
, we're alone,” Abigail said, motioning for Sadie to sit down on one of the benches. The backrest was engraved with someone's name and the words “In Memory Of.” Abigail joined her.

“I'm missing home so much,” Abigail said, angling her body toward Sadie. Sadie noticed Abigail's favorite dress seemed a little snug. Of course, she had been sitting at Joanna's bedside for almost three weeks instead of bustling around the store like she usually did. Sadie fought the lump in her throat at the thought of her sister's devotion.

“How is everyone? Anything new happen while I've been away?”

Sadie gulped. This was the opening she needed, but she wasn't prepared to talk about Aden just yet. “Everything is fine,” she said quickly. “Tell me about Joanna.”

Abigail nodded. “I had a chance to talk to her therapists yesterday. She's healing, but it's slow. Slower than they thought. But it's not due to lack of effort on her part.”

“So she's upset about it?”

“That's just it, Sadie. She's
not
upset. She smiles all the time, she eats everything on her plate, she spends a lot of time in prayer . . .”