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

  Yes, he had a problem. It was obvious to him that Lydia’s first and primary concern was going to be caring for her sister. Any interest she might have in him was going to be a distant second. It was also obvious to him that he was spending far too much of his time thinking about Greta Goodloe.

  * * *

  Sometimes Greta loved the fact that Celery Fields was such a small, close-knit community. But as young people began to arrive for the evening singing, she would have happily traded her surroundings for a bustling, impersonal city. The singing was a far livelier occasion than Sunday services. Everyone mixed together, talking and laughing and sharing refreshments. Along with barn raisings, festivals and other community events, this was an approved venue for courtship and for flirtation.

  She had been naive to imagine that everyone would be focusing on Luke and Lydia. After all, the idea of a courtship between her sister and the blacksmith was something townspeople had speculated on almost from the moment Luke Starns had arrived in Celery Fields. It was old news whereas Greta’s breakup with Josef was fresh fodder for the gossip mill. Everyone would be far more interested in where she—and Josef— might choose to sit.

  “Staying for the singing is a terrible idea,” she announced as she plopped down next to Lydia on the bench where her sister had spent the afternoon reading.

  “But I thought...” Lydia studied her for a long moment. “I see. You are afraid of what people will say about you—and Josef.”

  “I am not afraid,” Greta protested. “It’s just that it’s so soon and...”

  “If we leave then I cannot accept Luke Starns’s offer of a ride home,” Lydia reminded her.

  “Of course you can. In fact it makes more sense than my tagging along. I’ll just pretend...”

  “No. Either you and I both go home now or we both stay.”

  Greta could be every bit as stubborn as her sister. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Then I guess we both go home. We can walk.”

  “Fine. You will go and tell Luke Starns of the change in plans,” Lydia instructed. “Now.”

  “You should be the one. It’s you he wants to see later,” Greta argued.

  “It was your decision to accept his offer to drive us here for services and it is now your decision to leave before the singing. You owe the blacksmith an explanation—in person.”

  “Fine,” Greta huffed. As the sister of the woman that Luke intended to court, there was no reason for Greta not to be seen talking to Luke. Anyone observing them would assume that she was simply furthering the courtship on her sister’s behalf. So Greta made no attempt to hide her destination as she stomped across the yard toward the barn. From inside the barn she could hear the snort of a horse and the deep, soft voice of Luke talking to the animal. She took a moment to close her eyes and pray for the right words and then she walked toward the stall at the far end of the barn.

  “Luke Starns,” she called out, inching her way forward as her eyes became accustomed to the shadows cast by a late afternoon sun.

  He stepped out from the stall, holding a grooming brush in one hand. “Yah?”

  Greta pasted a smile on her face although she doubted he could really see it. “I’m afraid that... That is my sister...”

  Luke turned and continued brushing the horse. “Your sister is having second thoughts,” he said flatly. It was not a question.

  What it was though was a way out of this entire mess. If she agreed then there would be no further need for explanation. Greta chewed on her lip. But lying was a sin and that would definitely count as a lie.

  “I am having second thoughts,” she admitted.

  The brush rested on the horse’s hindquarters for a fraction of a second before Luke once again resumed the rhythmic stroking. “About me and your sister?”

  “Oh no,” she hurried to assure him. “Not at all.”

  “Then what?”

  “Josef will be here for the singing.” It was all the explanation she felt he needed. After all, he knew the whole story.

  “Yah. And at least a dozen other people.”

  “All talking about us—Josef and me.”

  “That will happen whether or not you are here.”

  He was right, of course. “But...”

  He continued grooming his horse. “It seems to me that this boondoggle is something like a wildfire. If you can contain it before it spreads too far then it’ll die down a lot quicker.”

  The man was speaking in riddles. “And just how do you suggest I do that?”

  He put down the brush and turned to face her. “Go to the singing tonight. Tomorrow go about your business—shopping, errands, whatever you would normally do. It’s natural that you’d rather hole up in your house there until this thing burns itself out, but that’ll take a lot longer than facing things head-on will.”

  The fact that she knew he was probably right annoyed her. The fact that he thought she would “hole up in their house,” when Greta Goodloe had not once in her life backed down from anyone, was just plain insulting. She drew herself up to her full height—a good six inches less than his—and took a step closer to him.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, Luke Starns,” she challenged and to her fury the man actually chuckled.

  “You’ve got me there. But it seems to me that if you’re in favor of us becoming family one day, then it might be a good idea for you and your sister and me to get better acquainted.” He went back to brushing the horse. “So what’s it going to be, Greta?”

  He was daring her and clearly he thought she would not take the dare. Well, she would show him. She would show all of them. “My sister and I will be sitting at the far end of the table. Try to be there in time to take the seat across from her although I suspect most everyone will make sure you have that privilege,” she announced and turned on her heel and marched out into the fading sunlight. Behind her she was sure that she heard Luke chuckling again.

  Chapter Five

  As Greta had predicted, Josef was at the singing. He had taken a seat directly across from the storekeeper’s daughter. And Esther Yoder was lapping up this unexpected attention like a cat at a bowl of fresh cream.

  With a defiant lift of her chin, Greta turned the beam of her smile on young Caleb Harnischer and took the seat opposite the boy. Caleb looked alarmed and at the same time Lydia jerked her head in the direction of Pleasant’s stepdaughter, Bettina Obermeier. The girl had been about to take the place that Greta occupied.

  “Sorry,” Greta murmured and slid away from Lydia, leaving the space between them free for Bettina. When she recovered from her embarrassment, she glanced up and saw that she was seated across from Cyrus Bontrager—Josef’s bachelor uncle. The man was something of a legend in town and not for good reasons. Over his fifty-some years he had attempted to pursue just about every eligible young woman in Celery Fields with no success. When he looked across the table and saw Greta sitting there, his eyes lit up.

  A smothered giggle from Esther Yoder told Greta that she was once again the center of attention. She cast about in desperation for some way to take back control of her situation.

  “Aah, Caleb,” she asked, turning her attention to the boy who was five years her junior, “how are things at the ice cream shop?” Her voice sounded shrill and nervous even to her own ears, and drew the attention of several people up and down the table, to her horror.

  Caleb murmured something in reply but Greta was beyond hearing him. Close to tears from the exhaustion of a sleepless night and the strain of the day, she stood up. “Excuse me,” she murmured and started for the door. But Luke stepped around the table at that moment and blocked her way. “Let me pass,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “No,” he murmured back although he was smiling at her. “Stand your ground.” It occurred to her that his smile was meant not for her but for the others. The man was covering for her. He had been on his way to take his place next to Caleb and across from Lydia. He glanced at Caleb as if he had si
mply joined the conversation. “It’s amazing that in spite of hard times people still need their treats, right, Caleb?”

  The boy grinned at Luke, clearly flattered that this man would engage him in conversation. “We’ll have a fresh batch of butter pecan next Saturday,” Caleb said. “That’s your favorite, right?”

  “It is. Do you know everyone’s favorite flavor?”

  “Just the regulars,” Caleb replied shyly.

  “And Greta Goodloe? What’s her favorite?”

  “Chocolate with nuts.”

  Greta noticed that everyone else seemed to have fallen back into the normal routine of getting settled onto the benches and greeting their friends.

  “And Lydia Goodloe’s?” Luke asked as he took his seat across from Greta’s sister.

  Up and down the table conversation paused as those near enough to overhear nodded knowingly as if they knew they had been right all along in assuming that Luke and Lydia would be together.

  “Strawberry,” Lydia said and to Greta’s amazement her sister gave Luke the most radiant smile. Then she opened her songbook and looked over her shoulder at Greta. “They are about to begin, sister.” She nodded toward the empty space next to Bettina and across from Cyrus. Reluctantly Greta took her seat.

  The singing seemed as endless as the service that morning. Greta felt as if she were a prisoner in the large barn lit by a line of kerosene lanterns spaced along the table. She could hardly ignore the way that Josef would every once in a while glance at Esther over the top of his songbook and smile. And as the evening wore on, Greta realized that the smiles Josef and Esther were exchanging were far too familiar to be the start of something new. No, those smiles were the smiles of two people who shared a secret.

  So there had been someone else, Greta fumed silently and she made no pretense at keeping up with the words the others were singing. A combination of jealousy and guilt overwhelmed her and this time she needed no excuse to leave the table. Without a word she stumbled toward the open doors of the barn and the sanctity of the darkness beyond. She felt all eyes follow her as she hurried away and once outside she gulped in the humid night air and fought against the tears that she simply refused to allow herself to shed.

  Cry over Josef Bontrager after everything she had put up with all these years? His moods, his insistence that everything be done to his satisfaction, his constantly trying to change her—mold her into some ideal he held of the perfect wife and mother?

  That was it, she realized. All the time that Josef had courted her, he had been trying to change her. He didn’t love her, she realized. He loved her appearance—took sinful pride in being seen with such a pretty and popular woman. But how many times when he spoke of their future had he reminded her that, once they were married, she would need to temper her curiosity and natural instinct to speak her mind?

  And truth be told she had thought she could change him, as well—once they were married. She had imagined that he would become less reserved and more outgoing. She had been certain that the children they would have would soften his strict demeanor. But now, as she walked a distance from the barn to the bench where Lydia had sat earlier, she had to admit that she had been wrong—as wrong about Josef as he had been about her. And in her heart she forgave him for the pain he had caused her and she prayed for God’s forgiveness for her own selfishness. “But, heavenly Father, I cannot understand what You have in mind for me.”

  The darkness gave her the advantage of seeing without being seen and so she studied the gathering in the barn even as she tried to make sense of what God’s plan for her could possibly be. She saw Lydia glance anxiously toward the yard a couple times but knew that her sister would not come to find her. Doing so would just call more attention to the situation and Lydia was a little like Josef in that she did not like being noticed by others.

  Calmer now, Greta took a moment to consider Luke Starns. She wondered if Lydia had noticed how truly handsome he was. He did not smile readily or often but on the rare occasions when he did, his full lips parted to reveal even, white teeth and just the hint of a dimple in his left cheek. He was broad shouldered and well muscled—the result, as Lydia had suggested, of the work he did. And he was tall. That was good because Lydia was also tall—with dark hair and thick lashes and a smile that she kept mostly to herself.

  Greta supposed that they would make a good match—at least they made a handsome pair. But she had now come to realize that outward appearances were far less important than what intentions and secrets might be kept inside. Lydia was right. What did anyone truly know about Luke Starns after all? The man had appeared in town last spring and purchased the livery business from the previous owner who had decided to move back north. He had quickly earned a reputation for honesty and hard work and those two traits had been enough for most people in town to accept him without question. But who was he?

  Greta frowned—all thoughts of Josef gone as she focused on the dark stranger who had set his sights on her sister. In the absence of their parents or any other close family beyond Pleasant, surely it was up to her to look out for Lydia’s best interests. Before she would condone a match she wanted to make certain that this man was exactly who he presented himself to be. And what was that? she wondered and realized that neither she nor Lydia nor anyone else in town had the slightest idea.

  * * *

  The minute he’d seen Greta flee the crowded room, Luke’s instinct had been to go after her. But, of course, that would raise eyebrows up and down the table and the last thing she needed right now was more gossip and speculation. He glanced over at Lydia. She kept her eyes lowered but with an almost imperceptible shake of her head seemed to read his thoughts and let him know that it would not do to go after Greta.

  Still, he could not seem to help but worry about her, imagining her out there in the dark, heartbroken. She had had a difficult time of things these last two days and his heart went out to her. Greta wasn’t like her sister. Lydia was strong willed and pragmatic. And she had a deep abiding faith that whatever might happen, it was God’s will and would become clear in due time. Greta did not appear to be quite so blind in her faith and Luke realized that this was a trait that the two of them shared.

  He forced his attention back to the singing and the barrel-chested Josef Bontrager seated three men away from him. The man had his head thrown back and eyes tightly closed as he raised his high-pitched—and slightly off-key—tenor in song. It was almost as if he was determined to call attention to himself. Or was he simply trying to drown out the vision of Greta running from the room? Watching him, Luke found himself curling his hands into fists. He had never in his life wanted to strike another human being the way he wanted to strike Josef. He forced his breathing to calm and relaxed the tension in his hands. Was it reasonable for him to feel so protective of the Goodloe woman? If it had been Lydia his reaction might make sense, but Greta?

  Of course, in the future, if his plan to court Lydia worked out, Greta would become his sister-in-law. She would be family. And as such his instinct to protect her—especially if she remained unwed—would be normal. It would even be expected. But the venom he was feeling toward his fellow man at the moment seemed anything but brotherly concern. He was about to close his eyes and seek God’s forgiveness for his rambling thoughts when a movement outside the double barn doors caught his eye and he saw that Greta Goodloe was standing just out of the pool of light cast by the lanterns. Her arms were folded across her rigid body and if he didn’t know better he would think that she was staring not at Bontrager—but at him.

  * * *

  With relief Greta heard the gathering launch into the final song of the evening. Gott ist die Liebe was everyone’s favorite and seemed a fitting conclusion to a day that had begun with prayer and ended in song. Now everyone would spend the next half hour visiting and enjoying some refreshments before heading home.

  In the past she and Josef had often been the center of a lively group of young people, talking and laughing be
fore the two of them headed back to town in Josef’s open-topped courting buggy. On such occasions Lydia would either have stayed home from the singing, staying the night with Pleasant or she would find her own way home to allow the courting couple their privacy. If Lydia went home, she would head to her room to pretend to sleep so that the couple could sit on the porch together. It struck Greta that tonight she would be the one to go off to her room and pretend sleep while Luke and Lydia sat together on the porch. Would Luke try to kiss Lydia? She found herself thinking about how his full, soft lips might feel.

  “Stop that,” she hissed, shocked at such a scandalous thought.

  Once everyone had risen from the long table and gathered in small clusters near the entrance to the barn to partake of the refreshments that Pleasant had set out, it was easy to rejoin the group without making herself a spectacle. She slipped back into the gathering and took her place next to Lydia. Blessedly the others were more focused on the pastries and—in some cases—each other as everyone enjoyed this rare opportunity to socialize. Greta nibbled at a cookie, nodding and smiling as the conversation swirled around her.

  “Come help Pleasant carry these leftovers back to the house, Greta,” Lydia instructed as she wiped the table with a damp cloth. “Then we should be getting home. It’s been a long day and I have school tomorrow.”

  “Where’s Luke?”

  “I expect he’s gone to hitch up his team,” Lydia replied, handing Greta an empty platter and nodding toward the house.

  Lydia’s demeanor had not changed in the slightest. If she was nervous about Luke seeing her home she certainly didn’t show it. How does she do it? Greta wondered as she carried the metal tray across the yard to the farmhouse. Nothing ever seemed to ruffle Lydia. Oh how Greta wished she could be as calm and serene as her sister was.