A Groom for Greta (Amish Brides of Celery Fields) Read online

  “There,” he said, and the word came out as if he’d been holding his breath until the deed was done. He released her hand. Filling the dipper with fresh water, he offered it to her. “Drink this.”

  She did as he asked, more to buy time than because she was thirsty. She found that the absence of his hand holding hers was troubling—as if she had been deprived of something precious. It was a ridiculous idea of course. She was simply missing the absence of Josef’s touch. This had nothing to do with Luke Starns, nothing at all.

  “Denki,” she said, thanking him as she drank the water then handed back the dipper. She waited until he had turned to set the bucket back in its place before adding, “I want to set your mind at ease but first I must know how much you overheard?”

  “Bitte?”

  “Of the disagreement between Josef and me,” she reminded him. When he said nothing, she added, “We seem to have a lot of those these days.”

  Luke remained silent.

  “Nerves, I expect—for both of us,” Greta explained, warming to her tale. This earned her a flicker of curiosity from the blacksmith’s deep-set eyes.

  “The wedding?” she reminded him. Men. How could they be so incredibly thickheaded about the important events of life?

  She glanced toward the street and across the way she saw her half sister, Pleasant, locking up the bakery for the night. Her conversation with Josef had taken place right out in the open where anyone might have seen or heard—not just Luke Starns. Panicked anew at the thought of others witnessing the scene, Greta made a quick inventory of the businesses along the street. Yoder’s Dry Goods where Hilda Yoder was known to keep an eye on everything that might happen in town. But three local women had passed by Josef and Greta as they left the shop. So Hilda would have been busy serving her customers when Josef made his astounding announcement.

  The hardware store next door to the blacksmith’s? Roger Hadwell and his wife, Gertrude, were known gossips but neither of them had been in evidence when Josef made his stunning pronouncement. Greta breathed a little easier and decided that she only had to worry about the blacksmith. She studied him for a long moment, trying to decide on her best strategy. Charm had always been her most potent weapon for getting herself out of any tight spot. But would charm work on this man?

  Luke Starns was not someone she had had the opportunity to get to know. The truth was that she had kept her distance from him. There was something about him that stirred a shyness in her that simply was not there with anyone else. Perhaps it was his looks. Where most of the men in Celery Fields—as well as the women—were fair with white-blond hair and skin that freckled easily, Luke Starns was dark—his hair was as black as the leather apron he wore to do his work. His skin was deeply tanned as if he spent his days outdoors instead of hunched over a roaring fire hammering bridle bits and horseshoes into shape. And his eyes were set deep under a brow of thick black eyebrows and were the most unexpected shade of blue—like cornflowers, Greta had thought the first time she’d seen him at services.

  Of course, from the minute he’d arrived in Celery Fields, every woman in town had begun planning a match for him. Theirs was a small community and that meant that the available number of eligible men for every single female in the town was limited. The preferred candidate for Luke Starns was Greta’s sister, Lydia. But Lydia had dismissed such idle speculation as she had all hints that this man or that might make a good match for her.

  “Don’t you want to marry?” Greta had asked.

  “Yes, that would be nice. But I will not settle, sister. I’d rather spend my days alone.”

  Now Greta shuddered in spite of the oppressive heat of the August day. The very idea that in the face of Josef’s abandonment she might now spend her days alone was beyond her ability to comprehend. How would she survive? What would she do? Lydia had her students who adored her, but Greta—what did she have? Practically her entire life, everyone had simply assumed that one day she would marry Josef, keep house for him in the impressive farmhouse that set on the edge of town, and fill that house with babies.

  That had been the plan—until twenty minutes ago.

  She felt Luke watching her now. There was not a single reason to think he had any interest in what had happened between Josef and her. Oh, the sin of conceit, she thought as she stood up and pressed her hands over her green cotton skirt—the one that Josef had always liked.

  “The wedding?” Luke prompted her now.

  Greta pasted on a smile that came as naturally to her as breathing. “I am quite aware that you may believe that what you witnessed between Josef and me earlier was unusual. I assure you that it was not. Josef is having an attack of nerves, nothing more.”

  He frowned. “Yah, you are probably right.”

  “I am right,” she assured him and almost believed it herself. “So there is no need for you to concern yourself with my...”

  “Might this mean that Josef Bontrager will not be available to drive you and your sister to services tomorrow then?” he asked.

  The idea had not yet occurred to Greta. Oh, the ripples this thing was going to have if Josef didn’t come to his senses before morning. She was barely aware that Luke had continued speaking, so caught up was she in the ramifications Josef’s fit of pique might have.

  “Because if that is the case then I would be pleased to drive you—and Lydia Goodloe. It is on my way.”

  As she forced her attention back to the blacksmith, Greta bristled. The man had some nerve. “Luke Starns, it has not been yet half an hour since the man I thought for years I would wed has broken with me. And you want me to set all that aside so you can court me in his stead?”

  She saw him stiffen with wounded pride. It was a male trait that she was well familiar with. After all, she’d observed it numerous times in Josef.

  “Neh, Greta Goodloe.” He held up both hands as if to ward off such an unpleasant thought.

  He didn’t have to look quite so repulsed, Greta thought. “Forgive me,” she said. “I misunderstood. It has been...”

  But Luke did not allow her to finish her apology before blurting out, “It is not you but your sister that I wish to call upon.”

  And suddenly the events of the day seemed far too ridiculous to be real. Were the tables to be turned so that Lydia was the one to be courted and wed while Greta spent her days alone? She couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh and could not seem to stop.

  “Lydia?” Greta finally managed to form the word. “You have finally found your nerve and set your sights on Lydia?”

  “I have.” Everything about his posture challenged her to dispute his decision.

  “My sister is not seeking a match,” Greta warned. But the more Greta thought about it, the better the idea seemed to her. Why shouldn’t Lydia find happiness even if Greta herself seemed doomed to eternal spinsterhood? After all, everyone in town had speculated that the best possible match for the blacksmith would be Lydia. For months now the local gossips had been waiting for Luke to make his move. Apparently he had finally decided to do so. “On the other hand, perhaps she has not considered every available candidate.” She walked around him, studying him carefully. “Would you consider a bargain?”

  “A bargain?”

  “Yes. I will do what I can to help in your campaign to win my sister’s affection. And in return, you will say nothing to anyone about what you observed earlier between Josef and me.”

  He sighed wearily. “How many times must I say this? I heard nothing. I did see you with Josef outside my window as I have seen the two of you and many other people in town numerous times before. I cannot be responsible for what takes place on the other side of the glass, Greta.”

  “Yes or no,” she challenged. “I can be more influential than you may suspect in whether or not Lydia takes your attentions seriously.”

  Luke chuckled. “Why, Greta Goodloe, are you threatening me?”

  “Not at all. After all, I have no control over what you may do with wh
atever information you gathered while observing Josef and me earlier.” She fought to keep her voice steady. It was very important to her that the whole town should not know the embarrassing circumstances of Josef’s sudden decision to call off their engagement. She looked up at Luke, wondering if she could trust this relative stranger to hold his tongue when the gossip began—as it surely would. “Please,” she whispered.

  “Very well. We have a bargain, Greta. One I fully intend to see that you keep. I will call for you and your sister tomorrow morning and...”

  But Greta had lost interest in the conversation as she once again faced the fact that after five years of courtship—on the eve of the announcement of their plans to wed—Josef Bontrager had quit her. She sank down onto the chair and buried her face in her hands as the tears flowed anew with no sign of stopping.

  Chapter Two

  Luke was willing to admit that his offer to drive the Goodloe sisters to services had been a spur-of-the-

  moment idea. For a good part of the day, he’d been trying to think of some way that he might approach Lydia Goodloe. He wanted to ask her if he could see her home from the Sunday evening singing that served as an opportunity for the single population of Celery Fields to socialize and court.

  Circumstances in his past had forced Luke to make some major changes in his life. The first had been to leave Ontario and move here to Celery Fields where he knew no one—and more to the point, no one knew him. The second was to settle here permanently and that meant taking a wife. Now that his business was established, if not exactly flourishing, and he seemed to have been accepted by others in the community, it was time to marry and start his family. He was twenty-seven years old. By his age his parents had already had him plus three brothers.

  Then just as he was planning his strategy for how best to approach Lydia, Greta Goodloe had suddenly appeared in his doorway and the way had seemed clear to him. If he could enlist her aid in courting her sister...

  But after interacting with Greta over these last several moments, he was having second thoughts about involving her in his quest. At first the woman had been nearly hysterical. Then she had accused him of eavesdropping—no, spying—on her private conversation with Josef and when he had told her of his intent to court her sister, her mood had once again shifted. She had actually burst out laughing. He certainly saw no cause for such merriment—at his expense.

  Now she was back to crying again—crying so hard that she had begun to hiccup. For the life of him Luke would never understand women. Not that he was all that used to being around women in the first place. His mother had died when he was just six and his younger brothers and father had been his world until he’d left the family home in Ontario this last spring. Blacksmithing was his trade, which did not bring him into much contact with the female of the species. That had worked out fine for him so far.

  It occurred to him that a woman like Greta—a woman well known for her charm and beauty throughout the community—might logically assume that any man would be attracted to her. That explained her reaction when he’d offered the ride to Sunday services. And Luke had to admit that when he’d first begun to consider the single women of Celery Fields, he had—as any man would—taken notice of Greta Goodloe.

  She had a smile that was as filled with sunshine as her golden hair—at least what he could see of her hair bound tightly beneath the covering of her black bonnet. And she was not the least bit shy about spreading the sunshine of that smile around. More than once he’d been working and had heard her musical laughter as she passed by his shop on her way home or to do some shopping at Yoder’s.

  But he’d quickly learned that she and Josef Bontrager were together. In fact it was the idea that Greta would soon wed, leaving Lydia in her late parents’ house alone with no further responsibilities for her sister that had made him take closer notice of the teacher.

  From what Luke had observed, Lydia was her younger sister’s opposite in just about every way. Greta was petite with a natural beauty. Her sister was attractive but her height and angular features gave her an aura of authority and more than a little intimidation. Luke supposed that suited a schoolteacher who needed to maintain order and control over children of a variety of ages. But away from school she was still wary and withdrawn when it came to socializing with others—especially those she did not know. Greta, on the other hand, was outgoing to the point of being a bit adventurous. Her ready smile and lively eyes reflected an innate curiosity about people. One more reason, Luke had decided, that he should set his sights on the quieter, more steadfast Lydia.

  Determined to get on with the matter of pursuing his courtship of Lydia, Luke was beginning to lose patience with the way Greta’s mood could change from tears to laughter and back to tears with stunning quickness. But then she buried her face in her hands and her slim shoulders shuddered violently. “How is this possible?” she managed between hiccups.

  “I believe that your sister and I would make...”

  “Not that,” she snapped, the hiccups apparently cured by her sudden fit of temper. She looked off toward the direction that Josef Bontrager had gone as silent tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “Oh, what’s to become of me?” she moaned, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “I expect you’ll do fine,” Luke said as he refilled the dipper and handed it to her. “You’re young and from what I’ve observed there isn’t an eligible man in town who...”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with horror, her mouth working as if she wanted to say something but could not make her voice work. “You men think that it’s... How dare you for one minute...” she stuttered and shoved the dipper into his hand. “Do not plan to call for us tomorrow for services, Luke Starns,” she ordered, then turned and stalked off down the lane that led to the house she shared with her sister.

  How dare I what? Try to console you? Treat your injured finger? Fetch you water?

  “Women,” Luke muttered as he strode back inside his shop, hooked the halter of the heavy leather apron over his head and started pounding out the iron that he’d left on the fire.

  Through the next half hour as Luke continued his work, Greta’s accusations stayed with him as did her tears. Clearly she remained convinced that he had passed judgment over whatever had passed between her and her beau. Still, thinking back on it, he realized that he’d been more aware of the disagreement than he’d fully understood. And the more he thought about the conversation he’d only partially paid attention to while he stood at the window, the harder he struck the iron on the anvil with extra force.

  Josef Bontrager was a man given to the kind of bombastic announcements that carried above the normal sounds of a town going about its business. Though his announcement to Greta had come at the time of day when most folks had already gone home, his voice insured that anyone who happened to be nearby would hear what he had to say.

  “I can’t marry you, Greta.”

  No wonder the young woman had been so upset. This was no surely ordinary quarrel. The couple’s plan to wed within a month was to be announced the following morning at services. If Bontrager meant what he’d said...

  “Guten tag, Luke.” Roger Hadwell stood at the door of the shop, watching Luke pound the iron into shape. “You’re working later than usual,” he observed.

  “Yah. Just finishing up here. Have some water.” He nodded toward the bucket.

  Roger helped himself while Luke made the last two strikes on the molten metal then shoved it into another bucket of water at his feet. Hot iron striking cold water produced the familiar sizzle of steam rising that Luke found somehow calming. “Come sit awhile,” he invited. He followed Roger outside to the warped bench he kept ready for just such visits.

  Roger owned the hardware business next door and frequently stopped by to exchange bits of news with Luke during the workweek. He was uncustomarily quiet as he sipped water from the dipper. “Did something happen to Greta Goodloe?” he asked finally.

  Luke stal
led for time. “Why do you ask?”

  Roger shrugged. “Me and the wife couldn’t help noticing that she stopped by your shop here after Josef drove off—and stayed a good little bit. My wife seemed to think that Greta was upset about something. She and Josef have another spat?”

  Luke sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness for the lie he was about to tell. “It’s the dust.” He nodded toward the street where a hot westerly wind created little flurries of dirt and sand on the street. “Got something in her eye.”

  “That was it then,” Roger said and Luke understood that this was a question.

  “That and she’d gotten a splinter. I picked out the splinter and gave her some water. She took a few minutes to catch her breath and went on her way.”

  They sat watching Jeremiah and Pleasant Troyer pass, their buggy loaded with kids and the week’s shopping. Pleasant nodded in greeting as Jeremiah turned the buggy toward home. The town would be pretty much deserted until everyone gathered at the Troyers’ place the next day for services and the start of a new week.

  “When I saw Greta and Josef earlier,” Roger continued, “it looked like they were having words.”

  I can’t marry you, Greta.

  What kind of man just blurts out something like that in the middle of town where anybody might see or hear? What kind of man walks away without so much as an explanation for the woman he’s professed to love for most of his life?

  Luke couldn’t imagine treating a woman—or any human being—with such callousness. He didn’t know Greta Goodloe very well—really not at all other than seeing her in town or at services—but she seemed a kindhearted person and surely did not deserve such treatment from a man who had professed to love her. He thought about her smile and the way it could bring a special radiance to her features. But she had not been smiling much during the time she had spent in his shop.