A Groom for Greta. Anna Schmidt
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