Sarah Jane married—against her father’s wishes—when she was fifteen. He was afraid for her, afraid for himself. Childbirth had robbed Sarah Jane of her mother, him of his wife.
“But, Daddy, Shane loves me!”
“Listen, there’s time for that! You're too young to understand what it means to be a wife!”
She stormed out, not in anger but frustration. How can he be so blind? She’d had Shane since she was twelve.