A Groom for Greta (Amish Brides of Celery Fields) Page 8

  “Don’t use your teacher’s tone with me,” Greta snapped as she stalled for the time that she needed to translate what Lydia had just said. “Besides, isn’t getting to know Luke exactly what is required here?” She felt triumphant to have found the chink in her sister’s argument.

  Lydia sighed. “You must trust my judgment in this, Greta. I know what makes my life content, what gives me pleasure and joy.” She continued eating her soup as if they were discussing the weather.

  “I don’t understand you sometimes, Lydia,” Greta groused. “And I have to say that I feel a little sorry for Luke Starns. It is obvious that he has taken some time to work up the nerve to approach you at all and then you reject him after one buggy ride?”

  “We rode in a wagon,” Lydia corrected, ever the stickler for the details.

  “Wagon...buggy. You’re missing my point.”

  Lydia looked at Greta directly. “What is your point, sister?”

  “I... You...” Greta drew in a long breath, forcing her jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order and out came the one thing she had not expected. “Are the two of us then to spend the rest of our days here—a couple of spinster sisters?”

  To her surprise Lydia laughed. “Oh, Greta, Josef Bontrager is not the only candidate to court you. He has become a habit—one you should be more than happy to quit.”

  “I was not the one to quit this ‘habit’ as you may recall.”

  “No, he was. And I appreciate that you are hurt by his action—his cruelty. But the fact of the matter is that there is a man living right here in Celery Fields that I have come to believe would be the perfect match for you—and you for him.”

  Greta searched her brain for some logical candidate and found that no one came to mind. “Who?”

  “The blacksmith.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lydia. I thought we were having a serious discussion about your future here. It is unlike you to make jokes...”

  “I am quite serious, Greta.” Lydia laid down her soupspoon and gave Greta her full attention. “Knowing that everyone had assumed Luke Starns and I would begin seeing one another, I took some time to study the man these last several months—to learn what I could of him through observation and conversation with others.”

  “And you decided he was not right for you. That does not mean that you can simply pass him off as if he were a book you’d started and decided you didn’t care to finish.”

  “I am not passing him off, Greta. I had resigned myself to you and Josef marrying although I will admit to praying for God to ease my concerns for your ongoing happiness once the union took place. But now... Oh, sister, do you not see God’s hand in all of this?”

  It was rare for Lydia to become so impassioned—only when she believed that God was leading them did she exhibit such zeal and enthusiasm. But Luke Starns? And Greta?

  “I have prayed long and hard on this and yesterday it seemed to me that God was guiding us in a direction that could not be denied. Just say that you will consider the idea, Greta,” Lydia pleaded.

  Greta hesitated. She could hardly admit that ever since she’d gotten past the announcement of coming nuptials and everyone’s gasp of surprise not to hear her name called, her thoughts had turned more than once to Luke Starns. She’d told herself that her only interest in the man was in whether or not he could make Lydia happy. But during the night when her thoughts had turned to memories of his smile and the touch of his hand brushing hers, she’d feared that perhaps she was more attracted to Luke than she had allowed herself to admit.

  She studied her sister’s features for any sign that she was simply giving up before she’d given her own romance a chance to begin. Lydia met her gaze clear-eyed and with the expression of one who knows her own mind. “But what of Luke’s feelings in the matter?” Greta asked. “Does he have no say in this?”

  “I have spoken to him and he...”

  “You what? Lydia, how could you?” The words were a shout in Greta’s mind but they came out as a whisper of pure disbelief. “Have you completely taken leave of your usual good sense?”

  Lydia pressed her lips together and frowned. “Since the day our dear Maemm left this world, Greta, I have been trying to do what I believe is in your best interest, what will give you a life that fulfills the potential that God endowed you with—a spirit filled with joy and happiness that you so brilliantly share with others. You are meant to be a wife and mother—that is so clearly God’s plan for you. Luke Starns will make a good husband and father. He will be a mitigating influence on your more capricious disposition and you in return will bring out the lighter side of his nature. The man carries a burden of sadness, Greta. That much is plain to see. And you said yourself that he is pleasant to look at and...”

  “What did he say?” Greta had left the table, her supper untouched. She paced back and forth before the windows that looked out over the town and Luke’s blacksmith and livery business. “When you spoke of this with him—what was his response?”

  “He agreed to...consider the idea.” Lydia’s voice was not nearly so self-assured as it had been earlier. “Greta, I see now that I may have overstepped, but...”

  Greta whirled around to face her sister. “May have? Do you have any idea of what you have done, Lydia?”

  Lydia stood, picked up her soup bowl and turned toward the sink. “As I have said, I have tried to do what I thought best for you, Greta.”

  “I am not a child,” Greta said. “And I am not one of your students, Lydia. The man I thought I would marry has not been gone but a little over two days and you have already...”

  Lydia set down her dishes then faced Greta squarely. “Tell me that you love Josef Bontrager,” she challenged. “Tell me that you ever truly felt for that man what a wife should feel for her husband.”

  The one thing that Greta had never been able to do—at least not convincingly—was tell a lie. She bowed her head for a moment, trying to frame her response. “In time we would have...”

  “You have been together for much of your life, Greta. If you cannot summon such feelings now, what difference was a ceremony going to make for either of you?”

  Greta felt the need to defend Josef, especially because Lydia’s words had a disturbing element of truth to them. “He is a good man. He has been a good friend...”

  “He is all of that and more—a good provider, a man of faith. Do you love him? Have you ever truly loved him?”

  It took Greta several moments to answer but only because she was reluctant to admit what she had known for some time now. Lydia waited patiently.

  “No, but...”

  Lydia rested her hands on Greta’s shoulders. “And that is my point. You deserve to love and be loved, Greta. You have so much to bring to a marriage and home of your own. Perhaps I have gone too far in speaking with the blacksmith. I see now that it was too soon—that you needed some time. And he may not be the right person at all. But I have prayed for your happiness for so long and last night when you were so upset at the singing I saw something quite unexpected.”

  “What was that?”

  “I saw, sister, that Luke was upset for you.”

  “Of course. He looks upon me as a future member of his family—or at least he did. He thought that once you and he married we would be as brother and sister.” She glanced out the kitchen window at the smoke rising from the chimney of Luke’s business. He was still working although it was late in the day and all other shops were already closed. “I have to go and set things right,” she announced.

  She took down her bonnet from the hook by the front door and jammed it over her prayer kapp, not caring whether the pinned-up hair held. “I know you were only trying to help, Lydia, and I am grateful for that, but the idea that Luke Starns would have the slightest interest in me when everyone knows he had set his sights on you is ridiculous. You are understandably nervous about this entire matter of Luke courting you. But to turn the tables and try to convince him...”

&nbs
p; “Please don’t act in haste. Will you not pray on the matter first, Greta?”

  “I will pray as I walk down to town,” she called out as she left the house. “I will pray that God will give me the words to set this right again,” she added in an undertone as she made her way down the sandy lane to where she could hear the rush of wind as the blacksmith pumped the giant bellows to stoke the fire.

  * * *

  Luke had thought of little else once Lydia Goodloe had laid out her idea that her sister Greta was the woman he should set his sights on. It was almost comical the way things had reversed. Back in Ontario the crafty father had sought a match for his elder daughter. Now the elder sister sought a match for her younger sibling. And in both cases Luke was in the middle of things. What plan did God have for him in all of this?

  He pumped the large bellows next to his fire, noting how the exhale of air matched his own huffs of exertion and frustration. All he wanted was to settle down and start a family. That had always been God’s plan for men like him—the responsibility to continue the line of the faithful, to do good works and to be a reliable member of the community. Why did that have to be so complicated?

  “Luke Starns!”

  He startled and nearly dropped the half-formed bridle bit that he’d begun to bend over the anvil. He glanced over his shoulder to find Greta Goodloe standing quite close to him, not more than a foot from the fire itself. She was tapping her foot impatiently and her arms were folded tightly across her body. From her expression he gathered she had been there for some time already.

  “Careful of the fire,” he said as he turned his attention back to his work.

  She rolled her eyes. “I am not a child,” she announced. “Although it appears that you and my sister have decided that I am. I am a grown woman and I will decide who I will permit to court me and who I will not.”

  Slowly Luke laid down the jig that he’d been about to use to break off an errant piece of metal. He glanced at her and fought a smile. The fact was that she looked exactly like a petulant child trying hard to appear grown-up. She was scowling up at him, her blue eyes glittering in the combination of the reflected light of the fire and late afternoon sunlight spilling in through the small window.

  “I see you and your sister have discussed the matter,” he said, turning again to his work mostly to hide his smile.

  “My sister has taken it upon herself to manage my life for many years now.”

  “How blessed you are to have someone so concerned for your well-being.”

  She seemed to consider this and loosened the grip she had taken on her body with her folded arms. “Yes, well, she means no harm. Lydia is a good woman,” she mused and then seemed to recall where she was and why she had come, “and that is all the more reason that you should see her suggestion that you and I... That we... She is testing you, Luke Starns.”

  He filed a burr from the bit. “How so?”

  Her lips worked but no sound came out. She looked down at her black shoes and for the first time failed to meet his eyes directly. “It would be prideful of me to say so and that is not at all my intention but the fact remains that for all our lives people have thought of Lydia as the smart one and me as...”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “The pretty one?” Luke guessed.

  She nodded once and then met his gaze. “But Lydia does not see her own beauty. She is not only smart. She is kind and caring and when she smiles...”

  “She is all of that and more,” Luke agreed.

  Greta let out a sigh of relief. “Then you see it, as well. Oh, Luke Starns, do not let her put you off. My sister deserves happiness.”

  “And what about you?” He had not meant to speak his thought aloud and yet there it was. Greta’s eyes widened in surprise. “Forgive me, Greta,” he hastened to add. “I should not have... We were discussing your sister.”

  “And you,” she reminded him. “So, what do you intend to do about this turn of events, Luke?”

  “Do? Your sister made her feelings plain last evening. She does not wish to spend her time with me.”

  Greta sighed heavily. “She does not know what she wants. The question is are you serious about finding a wife for yourself or not?”

  “I am quite serious.”

  “Then...”

  “What I will not do,” Luke interrupted her, “is go after a woman who has declared openly that she has no interest in making a home with me.”

  Greta frowned, then took several breaths as if preparing to say something. But the silence between them stretched on for a long moment. At one point she turned away and he thought she had decided to leave, but then she paced a few steps and returned. This time she found the words. “And what of her idea that you and I should...” She let the sentence trail off.

  Luke set down his file and examined the bit. “That depends,” he said slowly.

  “On what?” Greta had placed both hands on her hips, a stance so defiant that Luke was tempted once again to laugh.

  “On whether or not you are able to put aside your feelings for Josef Bontrager. Your sister believes that your feelings for him were not as strong as they should be for two people planning a life together. Do you agree?”

  “Lydia is... I mean... Oh, I don’t know,” Greta replied. “How can either of you expect me to know what it is that I’m feeling these days? It’s too soon.”

  “Then let me put this a different way. If Josef came to you and asked for your forgiveness and pleaded with you to reconsider, would you?”

  She blinked up at him—once, then again, then a third time. And all the while she chewed on her lower lip. He could practically hear her thinking this through. “No,” she finally whispered. “I would not.”

  In his chest Luke felt his heart pounding and he realized that over the months he had been in Celery Fields, he had taken more notice of the beautiful Greta Goodloe than he had allowed himself to admit. He had learned a hard lesson back in Ontario and he had been determined not to make the same mistake twice.

  But if she had come to realize that Josef was not for her...

  On the other hand, surely the idea that she might be firm in her decision to be rid of Josef did not mean that she was ready for someone new. He cleared his throat. “Then that is an important first step that you have taken toward coming to an understanding of exactly what God’s plan may be for you.”

  “And what comes next?” she moaned.

  “In your shoes I think that I would ask God’s guidance for moving forward from here.”

  She seemed to consider this and then accept it with a nod. “And what of you and Lydia?”

  Luke sighed. She was like a dog with a fresh bone, worrying the thing to death trying to get at the marrow. “I have taken your sister at her word, Greta. And having done so, I also must pray for guidance.”

  Greta smiled and with that smile it seemed as if her entire being relaxed. She glanced around the shop, her gaze once again reminding him of that image he’d had during services of the butterfly flitting from one thing to the next until she finally settled her attention on him. To his surprise she plopped herself down on the wooden chair as if settling in for a long visit.

  “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we, Luke Starns?”

  “How so?”

  “Each of us being so certain that we were on the right path. Neither one of us prepared in the least for the bumps and gullies along the way.”

  This time when he smiled, he did not try to hide it from her. At the same moment he realized that in the short while since he had first become aware of her presence, he had felt the urge to smile several times. “You will find what you want—what God wants for you,” he assured her as he went back to his work.

  “And you?” She was nothing if not persistent. Luke could only imagine how her pursuit of a matter to its end must have grated on the fence-straddling Josef Bontrager.

  He shrugged and concentrated on completing the bridle bit, more to avoid her eyes than b
ecause the work was urgent. She got up and wandered closer to the fire.

  “Why do you not have more light in here?” she asked.

  The abrupt change in topic was unnerving—as was his awareness of her nearness as she studied the work he was doing. “I need the shadows to distinguish the temperature and pliancy of the metal,” he replied.

  “How so?”

  He took a length of scrap metal and placed it in the fire pit. “See the red? And now orange?”

  She nodded.

  “It will glow yellow and when it is white, then it will melt. I need to take it from the fire when it is somewhere between the orange and the yellow. We call that ‘forging heat’—the point at which the metal can be shaped. Too much light can make it hard to see the change in color.”

  She was standing so near to him that if either of them moved an inch their sleeves would brush. In the glow of the embers, her face took on a radiance that made his heart beat faster. He took a step away. “You should probably be getting back,” he said.

  She walked toward the double doors but paused when she reached them. “You know,” she said wistfully as she looked out toward the street that was deserted as evening began to settle over the town, “Josef was not simply the man I thought I would marry. From the time we were seven he was like the brother I never had. Oh, we had a half brother—Pleasant’s brother. He was Caleb’s Dat, but he died when I was very little and I never really knew him. So I relied on Josef. Josef and Lydia have always been my two best friends. Now there is just Lydia.”

  Her voice trailed off as she continued staring out at the street. He watched her for a moment, trying to decide if she might be shedding more tears over Bontrager. But she seemed calm and if not serene, then at least resigned. He wiped his hands on a rag as he walked to where she stood.

  “I would be your friend, Greta Goodloe,” he said softly.

  She turned to him, the fading sunlight on her face. Her expression was one of bewilderment. Then without another word she walked out of the shop and back down the lane to the house she shared with her sister.