Amish Romance: The Promise (Hollybrook Amish Romance: Greta's Story Book 2)

by Brenda Maxfield

  Greta coughed as she inhaled the smoke and ash that was still flying about like bits of snow.

  “Make way,” said Jason Reil as he pushed his way past her. “It’s dangerous in here, Greta. You might want to go back outside.”

  “Jah,” she said, her throat dry.

  She hurried back outside and took a gulping breath of the fresh air. She spotted her father standing by a pile of lumber that was stacked by the rose garden. The men had already secured supplies to repair the house. Her heart swelled with both gratitude and pride that she belonged to a group of people who were so quick to help each other.

  She assumed the women would be coming around noon to feed everyone. She caught her father’s eye and waved at him. If she hurried back home, she could get bread in the oven and baked before noon. With the double rising, it’d be tricky, so she couldn’t dally. Part of her wanted to stay and watch, but that would be wasteful. She got back in the cart and was leaving the property when Todd drew near in his wagon.

  “Greta,” he said, and she heard his surprise at seeing her there.

  “Gut morning, Todd.”

  “I tried to find your dat to tell him that I won’t be in the fields today.”

  “He’s here,” she said.

  “He is?” Todd scanned the group of men.

  “Jah. He wants to help.”

  Todd slowly nodded his head. “That’s right nice. And gut. He’s probably got more experience than most of us.”

  Greta’s brow wrinkled as she studied him. He had a way of phrasing things that complimented people—even when Greta was sure that he knew the extent of the “help” her father would offer.

  “Kind of you to say so.”

  “He wants to be useful, Greta.”

  “He does.”

  “And he will be. Even if he can’t do a lot of the heavy work, he can advise us.”

  Greta licked her lips. She knew the kind of advising her father would do. Sharp-tongued and bossy.

  “Thank you, Todd,” she said, her voice soft.

  His forehead crinkled as if he didn’t understand her gratitude. “I will see you later, then?”

  “I’ll bring food for the noon meal.” And because that made it sound like she was doing it single-handedly, she quickly added, “Along with the other women.”

  He smiled and urged his horse forward, rolling by her cart. She clicked her tongue and headed out to the road and on home. For the hundredth time, she wondered why Todd had never married. He was good-looking and kind. Maybe he didn’t have a lot to his name yet, but he would. He was hard-working and industrious. He wouldn’t be working her father’s land forever. She wouldn’t be surprised if he already had a plan to buy his own farm.

  He probably just didn’t have enough money yet.

  She was so deep in thought, that she was startled by Old Mae’s cart appearing as if out of nowhere.

  “Greta Glick,” Old Mae said.

  Greta gave a start and pulled up on the reins. “Gut morning, Mae.”

  “You’re heads in the clouds, ain’t so?”

  Greta laughed. “I guess it is. How are you?”

  “Fine. Did you try the tea?”

  “I did. I think it helped some. I’m not sure.”

  “Keep giving it to him,” Old Mae said. She smiled. “Abigail is returning.”

  “What?” Greta tried too late to temper her shock.

  “Jah. I’m mighty pleased.”

  “But I thought she’d returned to Pennsylvania for gut. I thought she was to marry her young man, Joshua.”

  Old Mae’s eyes twinkled. “Goes to show that we don’t always know everything.”

  Greta felt her cheeks go hot. “Ach, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”

  Old Mae laughed. “Don’t fret, child. Truth be told, I don’t know the whole story either. But I do know that I can use the girl’s help.”

  “She did a wonderful job with Betty,” Greta said.

  “What’s this I hear about a fire?”

  “It’s true. Isaac’s kitchen is all but destroyed.”

  “Abigail will be sorry to hear that. She put a lot of store in Isaac.”

  Greta’s gaze intensified. Just what was Old Mae implying?

  The woman continued. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I’m sure I’ll see you at Isaac’s for the noon meal.”

  “Jah. I’m going home to bake some bread.”

  Old Mae nodded. “Gut.”

  “Mae? When is Abigail coming?”

  Old Mae tilted her head. “Should be right soon. Wouldn’t be surprised if she turned up as quick as tomorrow or the day after.” With that, she snapped her reins and was off.

  Greta stared after her. Abigail was returning to Hollybrook? Why? Were Greta’s suspicions about Abigail’s feelings for Isaac correct? Was she fond of him? Too fond? It had bothered Greta more than once, but she’d always explained it away. And when Joshua had returned for Abigail and she’d gone back to Pennsylvania, Greta had been flooded with relief.

  But now, she was coming back?

  That couldn’t be good, could it? But then, maybe Abigail was only coming to help out her grandmother. Greta wished she had someone to talk to. But her best friend had been Betty, and she was gone.

  Then Greta nearly choked. Talk to Betty? Was she mad? Talk to Betty about who might be more in love with her husband?

  Greta’s eyes filled with tears. If Betty were alive, this wouldn’t even be a topic of worry or conversation. If Betty were alive, Greta would be over there, talking about Todd…

  The realization was sobering. Todd Fisher. If Isaac wasn’t in the picture, would she be wishing and hoping for his courtship?

  She nudged Clacker forward. Yes, she would. She knew she would.

  How was it that not so long ago, Greta assumed she’d be an old maid, and now she was stewing about two different men. She had always heard that God worked in mysterious ways, but this was perhaps the most mysterious of all.

  Chapter Ten

  Greta didn’t have time to let her bread cool before she took it over to Isaac’s house. She’d have to slice it there, which shouldn’t be a problem. She was excited to see what progress had been made. When she pulled onto the property, she hardly found room for her cart out front. As she’d known, a swarm of women had shown up. A makeshift table under the tree sagged with food.

  “Hello, Greta,” a few women called when she appeared.

  She quickly set out her loaves and began slicing them.

  “Gut. You brought more bread. We have plenty of cold cuts, but I was worried about the bread.” Tammy Lapp rearranged some of the offerings.

  “Isaac should be here soon,” Mary Benter commented. “Don’t take that long from Ohio.”

  “He’s coming today?” Greta asked. Her pulse quickened.

  “Of course, he’s coming. Anybody would.” Mary pulled a piece of bologna from the stack of cold cuts. She folded it up and stuck it in her mouth.

  “Mary Benter! The menfolk will eat first. Didn’t you have any breakfast?” Tammy scolded her.

  Mary let out a guffaw. “Hungry all the time.” She leaned close to Tammy and lowered her voice. “And you know what that means.”

  Tammy’s brow rose. “Mary! You don’t say!”

  Mary nodded. “Pretty near sure.”

  “That will make seven. You know, Old Mae’s here.”

  Mary elbowed Tammy. “As if I’ll be bothering her with that at a time like this.”

  Tammy smiled. “She wouldn’t mind.”

  “Abigail’s returning,” Greta said.

  Tammy looked at her. “You don’t say.”

  “That girl has the same gift as her grossmammi. No doubt about it,” Mary said, grabbing a second piece of bologna.

  “You got to know her right well, didn’t you?” Tammy asked.

  Greta nodded. “She took care of Betty real well.”

  “Then I’m glad she’s back. All of us work Old Mae too hard, anyway.” Tammy slap
ped Mary’s hand. “Mary Benter, quit your sneaking food.”

  Greta finished slicing her bread and moved away. She could easily see the progress the men had made on Isaac’s house. They swarmed the place like an army of ants, so she didn’t even try to go inside.

  Isaac could be coming that very day? Then her letter to him was useless after all. She shouldn’t have even bothered with it. She wondered how she should act around him.

  “Greta.”

  She swirled around to see Todd approach.

  “You here with food?”

  “I am.”

  He drew near. “Your dat’s doing fine,” he said, his voice low. “Thought you’d want to know.”

  Greta gave him an appreciative nod. “Glad to hear it.”

  She scanned the men for her father but didn’t find him.

  “He’s around back. We set up some sawhorses, and he’s helping cut wood.” Todd gave her a wide smile. “I suggested it. Thought it might be something he could do without moving around too much.”

  “Thank you, Todd.”

  “We’re expecting Isaac anytime.” Todd looked at her. “You’ve been writing to him, ain’t so?”

  She swallowed. “Why would you think that?” she asked. Did her voice sound normal? She hoped so.

  “Well, you must’ve talked with him about Betty’s garden.”

  She paused a second before answering. “Jah. I did talk to him about that.”

  He was still looking at her. She felt uncomfortable and longed to leave. “Well, I’ll see you at the noon meal.”

  He blinked. “Jah.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Greta?”

  She hesitated, and then turned back around. “Jah?”

  “Just about Betty’s garden, right?”

  She blanched. That was pretty forward of him, wasn’t it? She hardly saw how it was any of his business. She was about to open her mouth and tell him so, when she realized how it would look. It would imply the answer to his question.

  And besides, did she want to cut off his interest?

  “I’ll see you at the noon meal,” was all she could muster up.

  His expression tightened, and then he smiled.

  Before he could say anymore, she rushed off, heading straight back to the table. She busied herself with the food—putting serving spoons into the salads, setting out knives next to the condiments, fiddling with anything so as to not have to chat with anyone for a while.

  The men ate heartily. When they were finished and had gone back to their task, the women and children sat down to eat. Greta tried to focus on the talk, but her eyes kept going to the road, watching for Isaac’s arrival.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Before they were finished eating, a white van pulled into the drive. Greta stood. Would James be with Isaac? She had missed the boy so much. It would be wonderful to hold him again.

  Without realizing what she was doing, she climbed off the bench and moved toward the van. Halfway there, she stopped cold. She couldn’t be the only one rushing to greet Isaac. How would that look? She bent down as if retrieving something from the ground. As she did, other women walked toward the vehicle.

  The van stopped, and Isaac climbed out of the passenger side. His arms were empty.

  Greta stepped forward. “James?” she asked.

  Isaac looked at her. Something passed between them, some heightened emotion or knowing, Greta wasn’t sure. She just knew that she felt the impact and took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I left him with Mamm. Didn’t know what I’d be facing.”

  The other women chimed in then, welcoming him home and expressing their condolences over the fire. Greta stood back and watched. She saw Isaac’s face go pale when he looked at his house, and she saw how he straightened his shoulders with effort and strode forward.

  She knew that it wasn’t only the fire upsetting him. Betty was gone. She wasn’t there to greet him, to give him a welcoming hug. He had to feel it deep in his heart.

  But he didn’t falter. He walked ahead, his eyes focused on the house. The men stopped working and came to meet him. Soon, he was surrounded by his friends and neighbors. They went into the house together. Greta yearned to be in there with him. She wanted to touch his arm, assure him that everything was going to be okay.

  Again, she felt a deep love and gratitude to be part of such a faithful group of people. She was grateful that Isaac didn’t have to face this alone. That he didn’t have to work on the repairs by himself.

  The children scattered to play, and the women wandered back to the tables. While some finished eating, others began putting things away.

  “We should leave all the left-overs for Isaac,” one woman suggested.

  “Wonderful gut idea,” chimed in another.

  “Does he have a working fridge?” Greta asked.

  “We better check on that,” Tammy agreed.

  “And what’s wrong with a good old-fashioned ice box?” asked Hilda Bettger. “We used them for years before these fancy gas refrigerators.” She snorted. “This new-fangled stuff ain’t any better than the old.”

  A few women exchanged amused glances.

  “You’re right, Hilda,” Greta said. “If the fridge is destroyed, we can fix up an icebox.”

  Tammy snickered. “I’ll go ask my Ben about it.” She walked off toward the house.

  Greta only just kept herself from following after her.

  In the end, the ladies fashioned an icebox by dragging a plastic bin from the barn. One of the women had brought ice for the meal, so they used that. It wasn’t going to last any length of time, but it would do for a start.

  As suppertime drew near, the men called it a day and disbursed to their own homes. Most of the women and children had left much earlier. Only Old Mae and Greta were still there. Greta was waiting to give her father a ride home, and Old Mae didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry either way.

  “Give Abigail my greetings when she arrives,” Greta said. More than once that afternoon, Greta had thought about Abigail. In one way, she was eager to see her new friend. But on the other hand, she couldn’t get rid of the niggling discomfort she felt as she thought of her arrival.

  She felt an unwarranted sense of possessiveness toward Isaac. She inherently knew that Abigail was a threat to her promise to Betty. She sensed Abigail’s interest in Isaac, and if she were honest, she’d felt a vague returning interest from Isaac. She wasn’t completely sure because Isaac had been so fragile and filled with grief. At the time, Greta had tossed her observation aside. She was too busy grieving Betty herself.

  But now? With Abigail’s return... What would happen?

  When it was just down to her father and Isaac in the house, Old Mae heaved herself from the chair under the tree.

  “I’ll be on my way.” The old woman looked at Greta. “I’ll give Abigail your greetings.” Her brow crinkled, deepening the pattern of wrinkles on her skin. “Don’t fret, Greta.”

  Greta frowned. “Fret?”

  “Jah. Don’t fret.” And with that, the woman took her leave.

  Greta stared after her. Don’t fret. About what? Her father? Or Abigail’s return? Did Old Mae know about the promise?

  “Greta!” her father called from the porch.

  Greta turned around. “Jah?”

  She hurried toward him. He was moving more slowly than usual, and his left foot appeared to be dragging some. That wasn’t usual, was it? She increased her pace.

  “Dat. Wait for me there. I’ll bring the cart around.”

  He shot her a look of annoyance. “I can walk to the cart, daughter.”

  He pushed past her outstretched hand and made his way toward Clacker and the cart. Greta glanced back at the house. Isaac had come to stand on the porch. His face was lined with weariness. She went to him, climbing the steps.

  “Isaac, I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Things happen.”

  “But now. So soon after...
” Her voice trailed off.

  “So soon after Betty.”

  “Jah,” she whispered.

  “The men have almost finished.” He looked back over his shoulder into the house. “There’s some cabinet work to be done. It’ll be better than it was before.”

  Her eyes rested on his face, his lips, the creases at the corners of his eyes.

  “Abigail’s coming,” she said. As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back. Why had she felt compelled to tell him?

  He frowned and focused back on her. “Why?”

  “To see Old Mae, I guess.”

  “She married?”

  “Nee.”

  His brows raised just a fraction, but Greta saw it.

  “I’m surprised.”

  “I am, too,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought that’s why she left. To marry Joshua.”

  He rubbed his hand over his beard. “Greta...?”

  Her pulse sped up, and she felt her throat tighten. “Jah?”

  “We should—”

  Her breath caught.

  “Greta!” Raymond hollered, interrupting them. “Let’s go home!”

  Isaac’s expression immediately closed up. “You better go,” he said.

  Greta stepped back. “Jah. I better go.”

  She turned and ran down the steps and across the yard. She climbed into the cart and held out her hand for the reins.

  “I can drive,” Raymond blustered.

  “Fine.”

  He snapped the reins, and Clacker took off, but as soon as they turned onto the main road, her father slumped, his shoulders almost swallowed up beneath his shirt. His face sagged, and the weariness there pinched at Greta’s heart.

  “Dat,” she said softly, “give me the reins.”

  Without a word, he handed her the reins.

  They drove home in silence. Greta pulled up to the porch and Raymond clambered out of the cart. She didn’t help him. She knew he needed to do it by himself. And she needed to tend to Clacker anyway.