Читать книгу A Groom for Greta - Anna Schmidt - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Lydia came running down the hall from the kitchen. “What is it? Are you all right?” Greta looked up at her sister with tear-filled eyes and an expression of pure panic. Lydia rushed to her side. “Come, sit. Take a deep breath.”

Greta did as her sister instructed. Since their mother’s death when Greta was only a toddler, she had relied on Lydia to show her the way through the travails of daily life. “What if...” She drew in a long breath and gasped, “What if Josef has not spoken with Bishop Troyer? What if...”

Lydia frowned, a sure sign that she had not considered this possibility and was even now working through the logistics of how best to handle this latest crisis in Greta’s life. “Well, we shall simply have to make certain that the bishop knows what has happened. Therefore, it would be best if we arrived at services as soon as possible.”

Greta nodded. “You’ll speak with him?”

“Bishop Troyer? Of course, but Greta, he is likely to want to speak with you—and Josef.”

Greta groaned.

“Now, sister, it’s not necessarily as dire as you may think. As I told you last night,” Lydia continued, “I suspect that Josef has simply had a bout of nerves. Marriage is a big step. There is every possibility that after a night’s lost sleep he regrets his impulsive action and has not yet figured out how to set things right again.”

When Greta had told Lydia the news over supper the evening before, she had taken great comfort and hope from her sister’s reassurances. But Lydia might know many things—might even be the smartest person in all of Celery Fields—still when it came to matters of the heart, Lydia had almost no experience and besides, didn’t Greta know Josef better than anyone did? Although he had a reputation for being wishy-washy, once he did settle on a plan of action, he could be as stubborn as any other man when it came to changing his mind.

And yet when she heard the snort of a horse and the soft plodding of hooves on the sandy road that ran past their house and on out to the countryside, Greta flew to the window. She could not help but hope that it would be Josef bringing his buggy to collect the two sisters for services as he had done ever since their father had died a year earlier. In that instant she played out the entire scene of how he would come to the door, hat in hand, eyes on the ground. And she would greet him as if nothing had passed between them the day before. The three of them would climb into his buggy and arrive at services as they had every other Sunday.

But when she looked outside there was no buggy. Instead there was a wagon with a matched team of black Percheron horses and climbing down from the driver’s seat was none other than the blacksmith, Luke Starns.

“What on earth?” Lydia had followed Greta to the window and was also watching Luke approach the house.

“He’s come to drive us to services,” Greta said. “He offered,” she added with a shrug as Lydia’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“And you accepted this offer of a ride with a man we barely know?” Lydia asked, her voice the one she used when questioning a student.

“Not right away,” Greta stammered. “I mean I thought about it and well, Josef is certainly not going to call for us.”

There was a knock at the door. It was five minutes before eight o’clock. “I told him to come at eight,” Greta added.

“Come drink your tea and eat something,” Lydia said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll get the door.”

Theirs was a small house and Greta did not really have to eavesdrop to overhear the exchange between Lydia and the blacksmith. She nibbled at a slice of rye bread as her sister greeted Luke.

“You are early, Luke Starns. My sister is just having her breakfast.”

Greta frowned. “Oh, Liddy,” she whispered to herself. “Show the man a little kindness.”

She heard Luke mumble an apology.

“Well, come in out of the heat,” Lydia instructed.

While Lydia marched down the hallway to the kitchen, Greta saw that Luke had remained uncertainly by the front door.

“Liddy,” Greta hissed, “offer the man some juice.”

“We do not have time for juice, Greta.” She took a cloth napkin and wiped a crumb from the corner of Greta’s mouth. “Now, come along or we’ll be late.”

Outside, Lydia stood aside, making it clear that she expected Greta to climb up to the wagon’s only seat first. “It’s going to be another hot day,” Greta said, trying to ease the tension that hung over the trio as heavily as the humidity. “Even for August,” she added when they were all three seated.

But it was apparent that she could not expect comments from either Lydia or Luke. Both of them were sitting as if someone had placed a board against their backs and they were each staring straight ahead, their mouths tightly set into thin lines. Clearly any attempt Greta might make to start a conversation was useless so she bowed her head and folded her hands in her lap. She might as well put the time to good use—praying that somehow she might get through this day.

At Pleasant’s house, where services were to be held, Pleasant’s husband, Jeremiah, came forward to welcome them. If he thought it odd that they should arrive with Luke Starns, he gave no sign.

“Is your great uncle inside, Jeremiah?” Lydia asked as he helped her down from the wagon. Jeremiah’s uncle was the head of their congregation.

“Yes. Is there a problem? Has something happened?” He was clearly mystified that Lydia’s first comment would be to ask the whereabouts of the congregation’s bishop without so much as a greeting for him. Greta felt a touch of relief as she realized that at least Jeremiah seemed to have no idea at all that Josef had quit her.

“Greta just needs to ask him a question,” Lydia replied with a smile. She waited for Jeremiah to help Greta down then turned to Luke. “Thank you, Luke Starns, for the ride. My sister and I will be staying to help Pleasant prepare the barn for tonight’s singing and can find our way home after that.”

In spite of her own worries, Greta rolled her eyes heavenward as if seeking God’s help. No wonder Lydia had never had a serious beau. She treated every man she met as if he were one of her students. She saw that Luke had been about to say something to Lydia, then thought better of it.

“Are you better?” Greta heard Luke murmur and realized that he was addressing her while Lydia was already halfway across the yard on her way to the large farmhouse.

“I am perfectly fine, Luke.” She offered him a tight smile. “And having kept my end of our bargain I trust that...”

“I’m not given to gossip, Greta, but you should prepare yourself because soon enough...”

“Greta.” Lydia was expert at delivering an entire lecture with a single word. In two syllables she had effectively reminded Greta that it was the Sabbath, that they were to turn their hearts and minds to God and that the bishop was no doubt awaiting her arrival.

As the two sisters walked toward the house, Greta glanced back over her shoulder toward the barn where Luke was now unhitching the horses while Jeremiah greeted more neighbors. Luke was right, of course. It hardly mattered what he might have said to Roger Hadwell. By the end of today’s service everyone would know.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said as she and Lydia reached the front door of Pleasant’s home.

Inside the modest white frame house, the backless wooden benches, transported from house to house for the biweekly services, had been set up in the two large front rooms that were a feature of every Amish home. From down the hall that led to the kitchen, Greta could hear the voices of those women and girls who had already arrived. They would gather there to deliver their contributions for the light meal that would follow the three-hour service. She and Lydia were each carrying a basket that held their contributions for the meal. It was a comfort to realize that the women all seemed to be talking in a normal tone, not whispering as she might have expected.

Pleasant rushed forward to greet them.

“Could you take these?” Lydia asked, handing Pleasant her basket. “Greta needs to speak with Bishop Troyer.”

“Of course,” Pleasant replied, taking Greta’s basket, as well. “Something to do with a certain announcement to be made today?” she asked and she actually winked.

Greta forced a smile as Lydia took her arm. “We won’t be long,” she assured Pleasant.

“Maybe it would be better if we just told everyone now,” Greta murmured. “At least then it would be out in the open.” On the other hand, there was still time for Josef to find her, tell her he’d been wrong, beg her forgiveness.

They passed through the front hall separating the rooms where services would be held. They dodged a group of small children racing up the stairs. The younger men and boys tended to linger outside until others took their places for the service.

Glancing around for any sign of Josef, Greta turned toward the hallway that led to a downstairs bedroom, knowing the bishop and other elders always gathered there before the services began. She was about to tell Lydia to go to the kitchen when she practically ran into Josef. Through the open doorway behind him, she could see Bishop Troyer and the two other preachers who would speak that morning. They were all looking at her, their eyes full of pity.

“Guten morgen, Josef,” she said brightly as she edged around him in the narrow hallway.

“I have just told them,” Josef said without returning her greeting or meeting her eyes.

“Gut,” Greta murmured with no further pretense at acting as if anything about this morning was normal.

“Greta?” Bishop Troyer had come to the doorway. “I wonder if I might have a word with you and Josef before services begin?” The other church elders left the room and Bishop Troyer closed the door.

Woodenly Greta sat down on the only chair in the room. Normally she would have remained standing out of respect but the truth was that, upon seeing Josef, her knees had gone weak and she wasn’t at all sure that she could maintain her balance without support. Josef stayed close by the door, studying the wide planks of the wooden floor.

“Josef has told me of your decision,” he began.

Her decision?

She glanced up at Josef and saw that his cheeks had gone red. “It was my decision, Bishop,” he muttered. “Greta...” He shrugged which only infuriated her more.

Greta what? Had no say in the matter?

Bishop Troyer seemed momentarily perplexed. “I see,” he murmured. “When you told me that you and Greta would not be marrying this autumn, I just assumed that...”

“It was my decision,” Josef repeated.

“The fact is, Bishop, that we won’t be marrying at all,” Greta added, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth.

Josef looked up then, his eyes wide with shock. “Well, that is...”

“Isn’t that what you told me?” she challenged. She stood up and realized that her anger at the unfairness of the situation had given her strength. “It’s for the best, don’t you think?” This she directed to the bishop.

The kindly white-haired man who had been the head of their church for as long as Greta could remember looked at her and then at Josef, his brow furrowed with concern. “This is a time for prayer—not haste. You must both ask God to show you His plan for your lives. It is true that you and others have long assumed that His intention was for the two of you to share a life. And that may yet be the way of it. This is not for either of you to decide without first praying on the matter.”

“It was not a decision made in haste,” Josef replied.

“Then why?” Greta blurted out before the bishop could speak. “Is there someone else?”

Josef looked at her and she saw for the first time the pain that lined his features. “How many times have I asked you that question,” he said softly. “I have asked it time and again.”

“And time and again I have told you that you are imagining things.”

“And yet, not once have you said that you love me, Greta.”

It was true and there were no words to deny it. Fortunately she was saved by a soft knock on the door. “Pastor?” she heard one of the other ministers say. “It’s time.”

Josef opened the door and brushed past the two other preachers waiting in the hallway.

“Come along, child,” the bishop said as he led the way down the hall and into the front room where Josef had already taken his seat with the other men. Greta took her place next to Lydia on the first of two benches where the unmarried girls and women were seated.

* * *

In spite of the cool reception he’d received from Lydia that morning, Luke was determined to ask to see her home later that evening. If she refused him at least he would know where he stood. It would have complex ramifications, for if Lydia Goodloe turned him down, he might have to think seriously about moving on to another community. But one step at a time. Having settled on his plan, he was free to focus all of his attention on the words of Bishop Troyer—a lesson that seemed directed at him. But, of course, that wasn’t possible. He’d taken care to keep his past to himself since his arrival in Celery Fields. But the flicker of panic he felt whenever he thought there was the possibility of others learning of his past was never far from the surface of his emotions.

The lesson came from the twenty-ninth chapter of the book of Genesis. It was the story of Jacob’s love for Rachel and how her father, Laban, tricked Jacob into marrying his elder daughter, Leah, instead. Two sisters, the elder less desirable than the younger. And although the minister’s sermon was about Laban’s deceit, all Luke could think about was the biblical sisters. In the end Jacob had married them both but God had given him children by Leah while the much beloved Rachel remained barren. Had that been God’s punishment? And if so, why punish a man like Jacob who had worked years for the privilege of marrying the woman he truly loved?

Luke shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench as he remembered another pair of sisters—this time in Ontario. Their father had also been anxious to see his eldest daughter married and he had set his sights on Luke as the best possible candidate. But Luke was drawn to the man’s younger, fairer daughter just as Jacob had been. And just like Jacob the father had tried to trick him into the match with the elder daughter. Only Luke— unlike Jacob—had refused to be drawn into such a plot.

When everything had turned out for the worst, Luke had often wondered if God had punished him for his refusal to even consider courting, much less marrying the older sister. But in that Biblical world multiple wives were allowed—Jacob could marry Leah and the beloved Rachel, as well. Luke did not have that choice. In the end his only real choice had been to leave the community where he had lived his whole life and move to a place where he could start over. Celery Fields had seemed the perfect place.

He glanced over to the bench where Lydia Goodloe sat, her eyes riveted on the pastor, her hands folded piously in her lap, her face intent as she took in the lesson of the sermon. Luke did not love her—how could he? He barely knew her other than to nod politely whenever they crossed paths. Still he had observed that she was a good and steadfast woman. In spite of her strictness, the children who were her students clearly admired her. Yes, Lydia Goodloe would be a wise choice to manage his home and raise his children in the faith of their ancestors. He could do a lot worse than Lydia Goodloe.

But then his gaze was drawn to the sister—Greta. Unlike Lydia, Greta’s eyes did not remain fixed on the minister. Instead, she glanced around, out the window, up at the ceiling, at some lint she picked off her dark green cotton dress. Although she sat relatively still, her eyes darted around the room like a butterfly pausing at one flower and then quickly moving on to the next.

It occurred to Luke that if he were successful in his courtship of the elder sister, he would no doubt be expected to take in the younger one, as well. In the absence of her late parents, he and Lydia would be Greta’s guardians, at least until she married. He could only pray that Josef Bontrager would reconsider his decision and take Greta for his wife.

Just then Greta’s eyes lighted on him for an instant and he saw her scowl before quickly ducking her head and folding her hands in her lap. Likewise, Luke turned his attention back to the minister. As the words of the lesson continued, Luke silently prayed for God’s guidance for this treacherous trip he was about to take down the path of courtship. At least this time he had chosen the elder sister with his eyes wide open. In this case there was no father to trick him as Laban had tricked Jacob or the man in Ontario had tried to deceive Luke.

No. The challenge facing him was to persuade Lydia Goodloe that they could make a nice life together. Convinced that he was up to that challenge, he risked one more look across the aisle at the Goodloe sisters and was unnerved when he realized that his gaze had settled first on Greta before moving on to Lydia.