A Reluctant Bride (23 page)

He moved a step closer to her. “Just what?”

“I didn't tell them we got married.”

“I figured.”

“I couldn't . . .”

“It's all right.” He gave her a half-smile. “It's not exactly the kind of news you want to give over the phone.”

She threaded her fingers together. “I don't know how to tell them. I have no idea how they'll react and what to say when they start asking questions.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with concern. “I always said I'd never get married.”

He tilted his head. He'd never thought much about marriage himself, mostly because of his family. “How does that saying
geh
? ‘Never say never'?” He wished he knew how to give her the encouragement she needed to see her sisters. “Maybe I could talk to them.”

She frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

“To make it easier on you.”

Sadie unclasped her hands and gave him an odd look. “I wonder if I'll ever understand you.”

“There's not much to understand. I'm a simple
mann
.”

“
Nee
.” She shook her head. “You're anything but simple.” She turned from him to finish cutting the potatoes. “I'll think about it.”

He smiled. Getting her to think about something he suggested was a small victory, one he would eagerly accept.

Aden turned to take the toolbox to the shed. A knock on the back door stopped him, and he groaned when he saw his father through the window.

CHAPTER 13

S
adie poured piping hot coffee into two mugs and carried them to the table. She placed one of the mugs in front of Aden's mother, Rhoda, who was already seated. Aden and his father had gone outside shortly after his parents had arrived.

Rhoda nodded her thanks, but didn't pick up the mug. Wary, Sadie sat across from her. Rhoda and her mother had been friends, but Sadie hadn't had much interaction with her. Sadie realized that she was a lot like Aden, though—quiet, content to stay in the background, but friendly enough when approached. Rhoda's small hands rested on the table, her fingers clasped tightly together. Her gaze was angled down, and she hadn't said anything since she arrived.

“I apologize for the state of the kitchen,” Sadie said, desperate to break the silence. “I was preparing vegetable soup for lunch today.”

“Aden likes soup.” She lifted her head a bit, revealing lines of worry around her eyes and mouth. But beneath the strain Sadie saw how much Aden resembled his mother. They had the same
sloping nose and full lips. Like him, she was soft-spoken. But she looked worn, her shoulders slumped as if a heavy, invisible burden was permanently attached to them. “He also likes pineapple upside-down cake for dessert.”

“I'll try to remember that.”

Rhoda sat a little straighter. “The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Aden has a healthy appetite. Some of his other favorite foods are liver and onions, cabbage casserole, chicken and noodles, peach cobbler, three-bean salad—”

“Would you mind making me a list?” Sadie managed to smile, feeling she needed to put Rhoda at ease. “I won't remember all of that.”

“
Ya
,” Rhoda said, her expression brightening a little. “I can give you the recipes, if you'd like.”

“That would be great. I'm not a very
gut
cook, though.”

“I could teach you.” She unclasped her hands. “I have a notebook filled with recipes from
mei grossmutter
and great-
grossmutter
. We could make some of them together . . .” Her enthusiasm waned. “If you'd like. I don't want to intrude.”

Sadie could see how Aden inherited his courteous nature. “You wouldn't be intruding. But I think you'd enjoy showing Joanna more than me. She is the cook in our family.”

Rhoda nodded. “I remember
yer
mother saying the same thing. She'd mentioned how maybe Joanna should give her cooking lessons instead of the other way around.” She put her hands around the coffee mug. “How is
yer schwester
doing?”

“She's . . . getting better.” An ache appeared in her chest, and she thought about Aden's insistence that she see Joanna and Abigail.

Aden's mother smiled, and she transformed from dowdy to lovely with that one expression. “Would it be all right to send her a card? We've all been praying for her.”

“I'm sure she would like that.”

“I can't imagine how hard it is on her being away from home. Abigail too. Have you visited them yet? When will they return?”

Sadie took a sip of her coffee instead of answering Rhoda. Aden was right—she needed to see her sisters, and not only because she missed them. She wanted to see how Joanna was doing and to spend some time with Abigail. She also needed more information, so when she attended church service on Sunday she wouldn't be fighting for the right words to say when people asked after her. It was suspicious enough that she and Aden had such a quick wedding. Not knowing the condition of her youngest sister would raise more than a few eyebrows.

She set down the coffee mug, her decision made. “I'm not sure when she'll be well enough to come home. I'll find out when I
geh
to Middlefield tomorrow.”

“Give her
mei
best.” Rhoda glanced around the kitchen, and Sadie held her breath when her gaze landed on the battered door. She looked at Sadie again, and another long pause stretched between them.

“How is
mei sohn
?” she finally asked.

Another question Sadie wasn't sure how to answer. “We're getting used to being married.” At least it was a partial truth.

“Are you both happy?”

“Marriage isn't what I . . . expected.”

“It wasn't what I expected either.” A small smile played on her lips and she moved her hand near Sadie's, almost close enough to touch her, but still maintaining distance. “The circumstances could have been better.”

Sadie fought a sudden surge of resentment. Her parents dying and the bishop forcing her to marry one of his sons . . . yes, the circumstances could have been
a lot
better.

Rhoda leaned closer. “Please,” she said, her voice growing low, shaded with a touch of pleading, “be a
gut frau
to
mei
Aden. Show him respect. Be kind and devoted to him. And maybe someday . . . show him the love he deserves.”

Sadie blinked, oddly touched by Rhoda's plea on behalf of her son. “I will do
mei
best,” Sadie answered. It was the only promise she could make.

Rhoda leaned back in her chair. She took in a breath. “The soup smells
gut
. Do you need some help preparing lunch?”

Sadie's heart twisted a little. She needed to remember that Rhoda had not only lost a friend, but she had also seen her youngest son quickly married off, and her oldest son was turning into a drunkard, if he wasn't one already.

Then a thought occurred to her. Did Aden's mother know about the bruises? Did she realize how broken her sons' relationship was? Aden had refused to divulge anything about his family, and she could see him doing what he could to protect his mother, who now seemed to be a bit lost.

“
Ya
,” Sadie said, trying not to speculate on the Troyer family secrets. Every family had their own mysteries. Right now she was keeping secrets from her sisters, so she didn't need to judge . . . or pry. “I'd like some help,” she told Rhoda. “
Danki
.”

As Rhoda started on the biscuits, Sadie seasoned the soup, using her mother's special mix of spices. The hurt in her heart grew. Rhoda Troyer was fine company, but she couldn't replace
Mamm
. She held the small glass that contained the spices and looked at the worn label, her mother's handwriting faded to barely nothing. Is that what would happen to her memories of her parents? Would they end up being a faded impression in her mind, one that she could barely discern as the years went by?

“I always add a little bit of salt to
mei
dough.”

Rhoda's voice interrupted Sadie's thoughts. She handed Rhoda the salt shaker. Aden's mother smiled in return, and to her surprise, Sadie was glad she was here.

“This is beautiful property,
sohn
.” The bishop pushed up the brim of his hat with his index finger. “As is all of Birch Creek.”

Aden's jaw tensed as he nodded. They were walking across the backyard to the edge of the grass, where the grove of trees stood. What was his father doing here? He almost didn't want to know. The bishop had a method and motive for everything. Eventually he would reveal it to Aden. In the meantime, he would keep up the ruse of small talk.

A flock of geese squawked above them. Aden glanced up, watching the birds, their long wings spread out, gracefully flapping against the blue, cloudless sky.

“They're heading south,” the bishop said. “Winter is almost three months away, yet God gave them the instincts to know the exact time to leave.” He looked at Aden. “God controls everything,
sohn
.”

Aden knew this. He'd heard it all his life. More importantly, he believed it, even though he didn't always understand God's ways. Like why his father, an ultimate man of God, could be so cruel.

“Have you explored the woods, Aden?”

“
Ya.
I didn't
geh
too far. Wasn't sure where the property lines ended.”

“It's seven acres, starting here.” He tapped the toe of his boot against a sapling tree. “The line stops three acres west.” He pointed to their left. “Two acres north, then two east. Orange painted marks on the trees show the boundaries.”

“How do you know?”

The bishop nodded. “Matthew wanted
mei
opinion when he bought the place. I gave him
mei
approval.” He turned to Aden. “That's part of the reason I'm here.”

“Part?”

“That, and
yer mamm
wanted to see you.” He shrugged. “She misses you.”

And you don't?
The freedom and confidence he'd felt the past few days away from his father quickly dwindled, replaced by an unexpected twinge of hurt.
Daed
didn't seem to care whether Aden was around or not.

“I need a
favor
,
sohn
.” The bishop faced him, his gaze penetrating. Cold, even though his words could be construed as kind. “There is some paperwork you need to find.”

“Paperwork?”

As his father described the papers, Aden frowned. “Sadie's family owns natural gas rights?”

“The rights don't belong to the Schrocks, Aden. They belong to the community. But according to the law, the paperwork needs to be in place.”

“In place for what?”

The bishop narrowed his eyes. “That's not
yer
concern. Find the papers and give them to me.”

Aden was confused. He didn't know how natural gas rights worked. He was also surprised to discover that his father knew. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece the situation together. This had to do with money, he was sure of it.

But if Sadie's family had another source of income other than the store, why had his father still forced the marriage? And what did Sadie know—if anything—about the papers? “I'm not sure I can do that,” he said slowly, still turning things over in his mind.
“The papers belonged to her
vatter
. She needs to know about this.”

The bishop's expression tightened into a familiar and unwelcome look. “You've been given
yer
instructions. You will not question me further.”

Aden resisted fisting his hands together as his rage was triggered for the second time that day. His father was ordering him around the way he always had, speaking to him as if he were stupid. The only thing missing in this conversation was his
daed
calling him dumb, a word he'd heard more times than he could count while he was growing up.