A Reluctant Bride (31 page)

She remained silent for a moment. “I'm sorry about
yer
hives,” she said, sounding sincere. “I know they meant a lot to you.”

“I'll build new ones in the spring. Bigger ones, probably. I always wanted to expand
mei
honey-making business. This will set me back, but eventually the new hives will produce.”

“You sound optimistic.”

“I am. I have to be.”

She tapped her fingers against the table, her sandwich left uneaten. “You could sell
yer
honey products in the store. Once you get everything going again.”

Her idea made sense. He'd never sold his wares in a store, always at a roadside stand or by word of mouth in the community. “I'd probably have to double
mei
hives then.”

“As long as they're far from the house, that's fine.”

“Don't worry, they will be.” He crammed another quarter sandwich in his mouth. Actually, honey with peanut butter wasn't half bad. Maybe he'd make himself another sandwich.

“We'll have to do something about those labels though,” she said.

He took a drink of tea before he answered her. “I thought you said they weren't bad.”

“They're not. But
yer
honey deserves better.”

She continually caught him off guard with her compliments. He smiled again, glad that for a short while they could put everything behind them and have a normal conversation. “I bet you could draw a lifelike bee.”

She nodded, but looked unsure. “Maybe. I haven't done any drawing in a long time.” Her expression turned somber. “I've been too busy with the store.”

That reminded him of the bills, which in turn made him think about the paperwork they still had to find. Stone-cold reality was never far away. He finished his sandwich as she sat in the chair, not speaking, not even looking at him. She stared at her lap, her mind clearly occupied with something else.

“Are you going to finish that?” he asked gently, gesturing to her sandwich.

“
Nee
.” She pushed the plate toward him. “You can have it.”

He took the plate. “You're right about this snack,” he said, sliding his finger over the honey that had dripped off the sandwich. “It's delicious.”

She stared at him as he licked his finger. His movements stilled as he felt the spark of attraction ping-pong between them.

Sadie shot up from her chair and took his plate.
So much for attraction.
But it had been there. He'd
felt
it. Maybe she wasn't aware of it, but he definitely
was
. Not that he could do anything about it.

He shoved the rest of the sandwich away, downed his tea,
and brought her his glass. He was about to offer her some help, but she took the glass and washed it quickly.

He stood awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to do. He could go upstairs, but he didn't want to leave her. Not yet. He'd be alone in Abigail's room soon enough.

Once the dishes were done, Sadie turned off the light and he followed her to the stairs. The night had grown chilly, and the temperature in the house had cooled. As they climbed the stairs Sadie asked, “Do you need another blanket?
Mamm
has some in her hope chest.”

“
Nee.
It's not cold enough for me yet.”

“Let me know when you need one.” They stopped in front of Abigail's room. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. “
Gut nacht
.”

He paused, willing her to meet his gaze, wishing they didn't have to part. Instead she almost turned her back to him, and he knew it was more out of self-preservation than rudeness. “
Gut nacht
, Sadie.”

He leaned against the door frame of Abigail's room until she had disappeared down the hall. With a heavy sigh he turned, knowing it would be a long night.

Patience sneezed as Timothy brought her a cup of lemon tea and set it on her bedside table. He rounded the bed and got under the covers next to her.

“Maybe you should sleep on the couch,” she said. “I don't want you to get sick.”

“I don't mind. And I don't want to sleep on the couch.”

She sneezed again and blew her nose. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch.”

He brushed a strand of her hair from her forehead. “Definitely not. I rarely get sick, Patience. I'm not afraid of a few germs.”

“If you're sure—”

“I'm sure.”

She picked up the tea, glad he hadn't taken her up on her idea. She didn't want to be alone. She felt better than she had yesterday, which was a shade higher than miserable. At least tonight she could breathe a little bit. She took a sip of tea but didn't taste the lemon. Or the tea. It was like sipping hot water. But it did soothe her throat. “You're a
gut
nurse,” she joked.

“Only when I'm taking care of someone I love.” He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, something he'd done for the past few nights. Since his talk with the bishop at the wedding, he'd been troubled, but had kept it to himself. Or at least tried.

“Timothy?”

He popped up to a sitting position. “Do you need something else?”

“
Ya.
I need you to tell me what's wrong.”

He looked at her, his blue eyes uncertain. Then he reclined on his side, his head propped on his elbow, brushing his fingers along the sleeve of her nightgown. “I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the natural gas rights.”

She nodded. “I thought that might be it.” She set down her cup. “Maybe you should talk to someone else about it. It might help to get another opinion.”

“I did, sort of.” She listened as he told her about his conversation with Aden. “He didn't seem to know what I was talking about, although I thought he was hiding something.”

“Aden? I can't imagine that.”

“I didn't get the impression it was anything bad. More like he was protecting something. Or someone.”

Patience frowned. “I don't like the sound of this.”

“I know.” He looked up at her. “That's why I didn't want to talk to you about it. I shouldn't have brought it up anyway, with you feeling this sick.”

“Timothy, you know you can tell me anything. And when it's something this important, it's only fair that I know.” She started to touch his cheek, then pulled back. He might not be afraid of germs, but she was more cautious. “I don't want you to have to bear anything alone.”

His smile was rueful as he sat up in bed. “I've already made
mei
decision. I'm not going to sign the papers over. I truly believe that's the right decision. If I thought it was God's will to turn over the rights to the bishop, I would. But I don't think it is. There are too many unanswered questions, and Bishop Troyer seems too eager to get his hands on the paperwork.” He looked at her. “Patience, that means I'm going to have to disobey him. I'm not sure what that will mean for us.”

She let his words sink in. This was new territory for her. No one had ever defied the bishop before, as far as she knew. His guidance had helped keep Birch Creek together, without the splits that sometimes plagued other church districts. Her own parents had come here after their district had split. But that had been over major disagreements about the
Ordnung
—not because one member had refused to do what the bishop had asked him to do.

The bishop was the highest authority in the church. No one was above him—except God. And if God was telling her husband to disobey, then she had to accept that. Timothy had proved to her throughout their relationship that he was a godly man. His
decision wasn't about following Emmanuel Troyer or any other man. It was about following God's lead.

Despite her concern over him catching her illness, she took his hand. “Whatever you decide, Timothy, I'll support you.”

“I would hope so, you being
mei frau
and all.” His lips tilted in a half grin.

“
Nee
, it's not that. I'm supporting you not because I have to, but because I want to.”

His expression grew serious, yet the strain from the past few days slipped from his face. “That means more to me than you know,” he said, his eyes holding so much love she thought her heart would burst. Then he released her hand. “I'll let you rest. Hopefully you'll have kicked this flu bug by the morning.” He gave her one last peaceful look before turning off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

Patience felt him shift beside her as she lay with her pillows propped behind her head to help her breathe through the congestion. She became drowsy, not knowing if it was because of the tea or finally getting better. Perhaps it was because her husband had found some peace about his decision.

Just as she closed her eyes, she heard Timothy's voice.

“I love you.”

He sounded groggy, and she realized he probably had spoken the words in his sleep. “I love you too,” she whispered, closing her eyes again and putting the situation with the bishop completely in God's hands.

CHAPTER 19

O
n Sunday, Sadie thought she would have to find excuses to avoid Aden. Since there wasn't service that day, they would be home. Alone. But Aden left on foot early in the morning, saying he was going to explore the woods and would be back by the end of the day. She couldn't help but feel relieved that he had spared her several awkward hours. Yet when he returned that night, she had to admit to herself that she had missed him. The house had been lonely and empty without him. As usual they went to their separate bedrooms, and Sadie's thoughts shifted from him to the store's reopening the next morning.

Sadie had expected business to be brisk when they reopened on Monday, but she'd been floored by the steady stream of customers who had come into Schrock's Grocery and Tool. Many customers were Amish, mostly from their church but a few from surrounding districts who had heard about what happened to her parents and Joanna. Each one of them, whether or not they bought anything, had asked after Sadie and her sisters.

“We're fine,” she said to everyone, giving them each the
cheeriest smile she could while quickly refusing their offers of help. She'd discovered that Bishop Troyer had spread the word that she and Aden were to be left alone not only due to her grief but so they could have some time to themselves. Still, that didn't stem the flow of questions her surprised friends had peppered her with.

I had
nee
idea you and Aden Troyer were a couple.

If we had known about the wedding, we would have been happy to help.

You two sure do know how to keep a secret.

Yer mudder
and
vatter
would have been very happy.

It was that last sentiment, expressed by several people, that had her chest compressing. Their intentions were good, and Sadie had no choice but to smile and agree with them, all while knowing that she and Aden were only married because her parents had died.

Shortly before lunch she was ringing up an
Englisch
customer who was buying a fifty-cent candy bar. “Nice store you have here,” the woman said, pulling out a coin purse from her small brown leather handbag.

“Thank you.” Sadie wished the woman were buying more than a candy bar. While they'd had more customers in the store than she'd ever seen, not many were purchasing items.

“I've never been in this area before. I'll have to come back when I have a bit more money.” She handed over her fifty cents. “I'm a diabetic, but my granddaughter loves chocolate.”

Sadie took the money and punched the amount in the cash register. She glanced up to see Aden talking with another
Englisch
man. He pointed to the back of the store where the tools were, and the man took off in that direction.

“Is that your husband?” the woman asked as Sadie tore the receipt from the register.