A Reluctant Bride (28 page)

It was nearly dusk by the time the taxi turned into Sadie's driveway. She paid the driver, thanked him, and got out of the car. Behind the house the sun hovered above the horizon, streaking the clear sky with a rosy-orange hue. She stopped, gazing in appreciation at the beauty of the sunset.

“Get back here!”

She frowned at the sound of Aden's voice coming from behind the house. He didn't sound angry—he actually sounded a little amused. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw a flash of white and brown streak across the top of the driveway, then streak back. Then she heard a bark.

Surely Aden hadn't gotten a dog while she was gone.

She hurried up the drive, and as she neared the house she wrinkled her nose and groaned. She recognized that smell. Skunk. From the strength of the stench she wondered if there had been more than one lurking around the yard.

Sadie rounded the corner in time to hear another bark, then Aden's hearty laugh. She halted, the deep, pleasant sound moving over her like a soft wave. She blinked. She'd known him all her life . . . and she'd never heard him laugh.

Her gaze took in the scene in front of her—Aden crouched in front of a large metal tub filled with soapy water, and one sopping wet dog squirming under his hands. Now she knew the source of the skunk smell. The dog wasn't too big—in between a Beagle and a Lab, with unusual brown spots all over its body.

The animal suddenly dashed out of the tub and ran to Sadie. He put his dripping paws on her knees.

“Homer!” Aden said, his tone only partially stern. He rose, his hands covered in bubbles. “I'm sorry,” he said, then snatched
up the panting dog and plopped him back into the tub. “He's not too happy with me now.” Aden rubbed the dog's belly, which seemed to make him stay still for a few moments. “I don't think this bath is working,” Aden added, a look of amused disgust on his face. “He smells more like skunk than before.”

“What are you washing him with?”

“Dish soap.” He tilted his head in the direction of the generic bottle.

She shook her head. “That kind won't work.” She neared the tub. “You need a special brand—”

Homer picked that moment to shake every square inch of his body. Sadie squealed as she was sprayed with skunk-scented soap suds.

Aden, who had been crouched down again, popped up from beside the tub as Homer took off for the woods. “Sadie, I'm so sorry . . .”

She glanced down at her dress, which was covered in large splashes of water. Then she looked at Aden. While he'd been apologetic, the grin on his face and the twinkle in his eyes told another story. He smelled like skunk. Or was she smelling herself? Unable to stop herself, she started to laugh.

Homer came dashing by them again. Aden chuckled and ran off after him. Sadie laughed as she watched the game of chase, which Homer was clearly winning. The dog paused and Aden jumped to tackle him, only to miss him and land with a belly flop on the grass.

But Aden didn't seem to mind being bested by a dog that was quickly becoming more adorable by the second. He jumped to his feet and ran after the dog again.

Sadie's laugh faded into a smile as she watched the chase. Aden's reddish-brown hair lifted from the top of his shoulders
as he sprinted. He was fast, but Homer had a two-leg advantage on him. Aden's speed wasn't what caught her attention, though. It was the sheer joy on his face. His exuberant laugh as he barely missed capturing Homer—again. He seemed like a totally different person.
Is this the real Aden Troyer?

Homer's tongue hung out of his mouth as he slowed down long enough for Aden to scoop him up again. Sadie put her patchwork bag on the patio and went to help. Bathing this dog was a two-person job.

Aden didn't say anything, just flashed her another grin as Sadie knelt on the other side of the tub and thrust her hands into the water. Ugh, the dog's fur was really rank now that she was up close. “What happened to him?”

“Other than getting sprayed by a skunk, I don't know.” Aden pulled out a sponge and scrubbed Homer's back while Sadie circled her arms around the dog's neck. She was already wet, she might as well get soaked. “This is only the second time I've seen him.”

“How do you know his name?”

Aden dipped the sponge into the water. “I had to call him something. ‘Dog' seemed too obvious.”

Sadie giggled as Homer licked her cheek. She loved dogs, but her mother had been allergic, so they never had any pets. “He's so cute.”

“I think he'd prefer to be called handsome,” Aden said, continuing to scrub the dog's stinky fur.

She paused, thinking the dog wasn't the only handsome one she was near. She stiffened for a moment, only to relax when Homer licked her again. It was impossible to be tense around this goofy dog.

Aden tossed the sponge back in the tub. “I guess that's the
best we can do for now. He still smells, but I think it's not so bad now.”

“Or we're used to it. I've got some of the other soap in the store. I can run and get it.”

As if Homer understood her words, he broke free of her grip and jumped out of the tub, this time disappearing into the woods.

“I guess that's a
nee
,” Aden said. He looked at Sadie, the mirth in his eyes contagious.

She couldn't help but smile back, unable to look away from him, trying to reconcile this happy man with the Aden Troyer she'd known all her life.

He suddenly grew serious. “How are
yer
sisters?”

His kindness touched her. She touched a soap bubble on the surface of the water, breaking it instantly, unsure how much to reveal to him—not because she didn't trust him, but she didn't want to burden him. “Joanna is working hard on her physical therapy,” she finally said. “Abigail likes Mary and her family.”

“But you're still worried.”

Her head lifted. “
Ya
,” she said softly. “I am.”

“We'll keep praying for her.” He rose and held out his hand. The gesture was so natural, she didn't hesitate to let him help her up. As soon as she was on her feet he let go. “I'll take care of the tub if you want to shower first.”

“Do you think Homer will come back?”

“I hope so.” He picked up the tub and tipped it over. “He's a little ornery, but fun.” Aden emptied the tub and headed for the barn.

Sadie went into the house, noticing the bowl of half-eaten hamburger meat next to another bowl of water. They stocked dog food in the store, along with the blue dishwashing liquid
that would help get rid of the skunk smell. She'd have to get both after she had her shower, just in case Homer decided to return.

She showered and changed into a fresh dress. Her
kapp
was a little damp, but fortunately it didn't smell of skunk. She set it on her dresser to dry, quickly braided her freshly shampooed hair, pinned it into a bun on the crown of her head, then put on a light green kerchief. She held the dirty dress away from her body as she stepped out into the hall at the same time the bathroom door opened. Her gaze met Aden's and locked.

Sadie couldn't pull her gaze from him. He paused when he saw her, the ends of his wet hair grazing the top of his clean yellow shirt. She couldn't stop her eyes as they traveled from his square shoulders to his lean waist. His legs were clad in dark blue broadfall pants, but his feet were bare. Catching herself, she lifted her head, making sure to keep her eyes on his face and not on anything else.

He didn't seem unsettled by her frank perusal, though. “I can throw
yer
dress in the washer with
mei
clothes,” he said, gesturing to the shirt, pants, and socks he held. “I used it the other day. While you were working in the store. Hope you don't mind.”

Guilt surfaced as she realized he'd been left to his own devices for the most part since he'd been here. “I should have taken care of them for you.”

“You've been busy.”

“That's not an excuse.”

Aden went to her, taking her dress from her hand. “I'm not saying it is.”

He went to the head of the stairs, and she called out to him. “You need a haircut.” Her lips folded in. She hadn't meant to sound so blunt.

His fingers slipped through his wet mass of hair. “I suppose I do.”

“I . . . I could give you one.” She swallowed. “I used to cut
mei daed
's hair.”

He looked down at the clothes in his hands, then at her. “All right.” His voice was low, hesitant. “I'll put these in the washer then.”

Sadie leaned against the wall as he hurried down the stairs. Why had she offered to do this? Giving her father a haircut was one thing, but cutting Aden's hair . . .
my husband's hair . . .
The thought of it made her stomach flutter.

She pressed the back of her head against the wall. She was being ridiculous. It was only a haircut, another task similar to making supper or doing laundry or washing windows. Sadie closed her eyes. Giving Aden a haircut wasn't anything like her other chores. But that didn't mean she had to make a big deal about it.

After retrieving an old sheet from the linen closet next to the bathroom and a comb from her bedroom, she went downstairs to the kitchen. The hair shears were in the drawer, and she set them on the table along with the sheet. She hugged her arms as she waited for Aden to come up from the basement. A few moments later he did, and without a word he sat down in the same chair he used when he ate at the table.

The soft rustle of her shaking out the sheet was the only sound in the kitchen. She swooped it around his neck and tied it, leaving the rest of the sheet to cover his torso. “Too tight?”

“
Nee
,” he said, his voice sounding weird. He cleared his throat. “It's fine.”

She nodded, even though she was standing behind him and he couldn't see her. She took the comb from the table and
combed his hair, which had partially dried. Despite the messy appearance, the comb easily ran through the strands. She relaxed as he remained still.

“I guess you need these,” he said, handing her the scissors.

“
Danki
.” She took them and started to snip. His hair smelled like his skin and clothes—clean, fresh, and appealing. Her hands flinched at the thought, and she forced herself to focus on his hair and not on him.

After a few minutes, when she was about a third of the way done trimming the ends of his hair until they were level with his earlobe, he spoke. “I have something to tell you.”

She stopped mid-snip. He sounded serious. Tense. In other words, typical Aden. But she'd seen another side of him.
Maybe not so typical after all.

“Sol's buggy and horse are still here.”

Sadie straightened, scissors in one hand, comb in the other, and a fully formed knot in her stomach. “What?”

“He hasn't been back since yesterday morning. Which is a
gut
thing, but I thought he'd have gotten Jasper by now. I've been taking care of him in the meantime.”

Sensing her hands starting to shake, she ran the comb through his hair again.

“I'll
geh
to
mei
parents' in the morning, if Sol hasn't—”

“Hasn't what?”

“Come back.” He moved for the first time, craning his neck so he could glance up at her. “Don't worry,” he said. “If he comes back tonight, I'll make sure he won't get to you.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “He has to pass by
mei
bedroom first, anyway.”

She knew he was making a joke, but it wasn't funny to her. Instead it churned up more guilt, which overrode the fear that Sol would return. She started cutting again, the knot in her
stomach tightening with uncomfortable awareness. How long would he be patient with her? How much time had to pass before she would be able to share a bed with him?

The sharp swishing sound of the scissor blades filled the silence. She made quick work of the rest of the haircut, eager to get away from him. Putting space between them would hopefully temper the rising emotions she'd had since she'd returned from Middlefield. “Done,” she said, swiping the loose hair off his neck before untying the knot.

He stood, giving her an inscrutable look before stepping away from the table. “I think I'll head over to
mei
parents' now. Could you, uh, get the clothes from the washer?”

She couldn't look at him, her face flaming with heat at the thoughts running through her mind. Folding up the sheet to shake outside, she kept her head down but nodded. How had so much changed between them so fast? Like the rest of her life, her emotions were out of control, and she was desperate to rein them in. How could she be thinking about attraction, about something pleasurable, while Joanna suffered and Abigail yearned to be home?

Worse, how did she dare to be even a little happy so soon after her parents' deaths?

“Don't worry about supper,” he said. “I'll grab something at
Mamm
's.”

She nodded, latching on to the broom and sweeping the floor with furious strokes.

Aden paused again, then left.

Sadie leaned her forehead against the top of her hand and leaned on the broom handle. He probably thought she was an idiot. Or
ab im kopp
. Maybe a bit of both. And for the first time in her life, she realized she actually cared what Aden thought.

CHAPTER 17