A Groom for Greta (Amish Brides of Celery Fields)

by Anna Schmidt

  “Son,” his father said huskily and Luke stumbled forward to embrace the elderly man.

  There was a moment of hushed respectful silence and then one of the children asked, “Are we going to stay?”

  “Yah,” Luke’s father said before anyone else could answer. He touched Luke’s cheek. “We are going to stay.”

  And then everyone was climbing down from the wagon and Luke was greeting his brothers and their wives and the nieces and nephews he had not seen in months and two new ones that he had not met at all.

  “How did... Why...”

  “We had a letter—two,” his brother told him. “One from your bishop and another from Greta Goodloe.”

  “Greta wrote to you?”

  “Yah,” his youngest brother replied with a laugh. “She made a good case, brother—for you and for us moving down here where as she said ‘it hardly ever snows.’”

  Everyone laughed at that and Luke realized that they already liked Greta even before they’d had a chance to meet her. Then his father took hold of his arm.

  “Your bishop wrote to our bishop, Luke. It has been decided that while you are still under the Bann back home, you have made your amends with the community here. Since you would not be able to come to us under those conditions, we decided to come here.”

  “To stay?”

  “We’ll see,” his father said, glancing around and seeming to find the town to his liking. “After the wedding, we can decide.”

  “You are still planning to get married today, aren’t you?” his eldest brother teased.

  Luke looked up toward the Goodloe house and saw that Greta had come out onto the porch and was watching the reunion from that safe distance. The way she had knotted the skirt of her apron in one hand told him that she was worried things might not go as planned. “Come and meet Greta and her sister,” Luke said and as he helped his father back onto the wagon and then led the team of horses up the lane, Greta came running to meet them.

  * * *

  By the time everyone had been introduced and Pleasant had insisted on feeding all of Luke’s family, it was time for Greta to get dressed. Lydia and Pleasant would serve as her attendants and they followed her to her bedroom to help her get ready. Her dress—a deep green with a white apron and kapp—hung on a peg. Today she would exchange the black kapp she had worn all her life for the white prayer covering of a married woman. When she died—hopefully years hence—she would be buried in this same dress.

  There was a lot of excited chatter as the women helped her bundle her thick hair into a smooth knot and held the dress while she pinned it into place with the series of black straight pins laid out on her bureau. Then came the apron and last of all the starched prayer kapp.

  There was no mirror but when Greta turned she could see in the eyes of her sisters that she looked beautiful.

  “Oh, Greta,” Lydia whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. “You look like Mama.” It was the most loving thing that Lydia could have said. Greta had little memory of their mother but Lydia had often told her stories about how beautiful their mother was, how kind and giving and admired she was.

  “I only hope I can live up to her legacy,” she told Lydia.

  “You already have,” Pleasant assured her. “Now, let’s go get you married.”

  As she stepped out into the narrow hallway, Greta saw Luke standing in the front room with his brothers, talking quietly to Bishop Troyer. He was dressed in a black suit and as tradition dictated, for the first and only time in his life he was wearing a tie. As if he had sensed her presence, he looked up and the smile that lit his face was the only sign she needed that he was as anxious as she was for their life together to begin.

  Lydia placed a hand on Greta’s waist and guided her toward the front row of benches where she sat with Luke and his brothers as well as Lydia and Pleasant. They were the bridal party and now that they were in place the guests would begin to take their seats in the rows of benches behind them. At the stroke of nine in the morning the singing began and Bishop Troyer and the other ministers for the day left the room with Greta and Luke following them.

  In Lydia’s bedroom, the couple sat next to each other on Lydia’s bed while Bishop Troyer instructed them on the duties of marriage and all the while Greta could hear the singing from the front room. She thought she had never heard anything so beautiful in her life. Now as Luke took her hand and together they followed the ministers back into the front room, Greta felt a kind of serenity come over her. Usually she was restless and distracted during services, but not today. Throughout the three-hour service she sat as still as a stone, her fingers woven together with Luke’s as the bishop told the stories of marriages from the Old Testament—from Adam and Eve to Isaac and Rebekah.

  Finally Bishop Troyer called Luke and Greta to come forward. He smiled at them and without benefit of notes he began the marriage ceremony.

  “You have heard the ordinance of Christian wedlock presented,” he intoned. “Are you now willing to enter wedlock together as God has ordained and commanded?”

  “Yes,” Luke and Greta chorused.

  He turned to Luke. “Are you confident that this, our sister, is ordained of God to be your wedded wife?”

  Luke’s response was immediate and rang out clearly in the silent room. “Yes.”

  Bishop Troyer turned to Greta. “Are you confident that this, our brother, is ordained of God to be your wedded husband?”

  The memory of all that she and Luke had had to endure over these last months ran through Greta’s mind like a rush of wind before a storm. But then she looked up at him and saw in his eyes the calm and peace of certainty. “Yes,” she replied.

  “Do you also promise your wedded wife, before the Lord and his church, that you will nevermore depart from her, but will care for her and cherish her, if bodily sickness comes to her, or in any circumstances which a Christian husband is responsible to care for, until the dear God will again separate you from each other?”

  “Yes.”

  He repeated the question to Greta and she had to physically restrain herself from cupping Luke’s cheek as she replied, “I promise.”

  The bishop then placed his hand over Luke and Greta’s joined hands and intoned, “So then I may say with Raguel, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob be with you and help you together and fulfill His blessing abundantly upon you, through Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  And so they were married. There were no exclamations of congratulations as the couple made their way from the house to the barn where they took their place in the wedding corner. Luke sat to Greta’s right and when all the guests had gathered, the bishop gave the signal for silent prayer. Beneath the table Luke held fast to Greta’s hand as they bowed their heads. And then as if a signal had been given, every head lifted and the room exploded with conversation and laughter all interrupted by the occasional song. The festivities continued on through the afternoon and well into the evening. And through it all Greta was aware of only one person—Luke, her husband.

  * * *

  While tradition held that the couple spend their first night in the home of the bride’s parents, Luke had asked Lydia if it would be all right with her for him to take Greta to the home he’d prepared for them instead.

  “Of course,” Lydia replied. “If Maemm und Dat were still alive, they would want to follow tradition, but in this case I think everyone will understand. Besides we need the extra space. Your father will stay here with your brother Ivan and his family while all the rest go to stay with Pleasant and Jeremiah. It’s all arranged.”

  “Denki,” Luke said, unable to disguise the relief he felt that Lydia—as usual—had taken charge of everything and left him and Greta with nothing to think about except starting their life together.

  So when the last guest had gone home and all of the food and tables and chairs had been put away, he took Greta’s arm and led her outside. “Come take a ride with me,” he said.

  She did not
protest but looked up at him the way she had looked at him throughout the long day—as if she were certain that he could do anything. She did giggle a little when he helped her into Jeremiah’s open-topped buggy. “Why, Luke Starns, don’t tell me that at long last you have bought yourself a proper courting buggy,” she teased.

  “I borrowed it from Jeremiah—or rather from Caleb. It’s his buggy and I don’t think he was very pleased with having to loan it to me tonight. I’m pretty sure he had his heart set on seeing Bettina home.”

  Greta snuggled close to him and sighed. “I expect there will be a wedding there within the next year,” she said and yawned as she let her head rest on Luke’s shoulder. But when he called for the horse to stop barely five minutes after they’d left Lydia’s house, Greta sat up and looked around. “Why are we stopping here?” Greta asked sleepily when she realized that Luke had pulled up the buggy to the old Obermeier place. “I don’t like this place.”

  “Truly?” Luke pretended to consider the large old ramshackle house that had sat forlorn and unoccupied at the far end of the main street ever since Pleasant and Jeremiah had married. “I was thinking it would make a good place for us to live—right here in town, close to my place of business and Lydia.”

  Greta shuddered, fighting an obvious case of nerves as he came around the buggy and helped her down.

  “Let’s just go have a look.”

  They walked up the front path together. “I suppose it could work,” Greta said hesitantly. “Perhaps after we return from our trip I could invite the other women for a frolic to help me get it fixed up properly.”

  “I thought we might stay here tonight,” Luke said, barely able to keep the smile he was trying to hide in check when she gasped audibly and turned to face him.

  “Tonight? But...”

  “Sure. It’s pretty crowded at your sister’s place and...”

  “But, Luke, there are bound to be cobwebs and what about furniture—where would we sleep?”

  “I thought perhaps we might sleep up there,” he said, pointing to an upstairs window where a lamp glowed.

  “Someone is here,” she whispered. “The front door is open.”

  “Yah. Others have been here getting things ready,” Luke explained.

  He held open the screen door and waited for her to enter first. The scent of lemon oil rose from the wood-planked floors and the banister that led to the second floor. The place was spotless and completely furnished. They might have lived there already for years and just be coming home from a visit with friends, Greta thought.

  “Oh, Luke, is it truly to be our home?”

  Now he laughed out loud. “I thought you didn’t like this place.”

  “I didn’t but, oh, Luke, look at it.” She clapped her hands together in delight and spun around, trying to take in everything at once. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. “I want to see the kitchen,” she exclaimed.

  Luke followed her willingly and stood quietly in the doorway as she examined the dishes—already washed after their use for the wedding and stored on the open shelves—and a few pots and pans polished to a high shine and hanging from hooks overhead. He was well aware that they would be adding to the collection as they visited Greta’s extended family in the Midwest.

  “It’s everything I ever dreamed it would be,” she murmured, running her hand lightly over the table that dominated the center of the large room. “We can fit half a dozen children around this table at least.”

  Luke chuckled and came to her, lifting her so that she was sitting on the counter near the window. “In the morning look out this window and you’ll see the kitchen garden that Liddy planted for you.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “You have made me so very happy,” she said softly.

  With great care and tenderness he removed her prayer covering and set it aside, and then he pulled out the pins that held her hair, freeing it to fall over her shoulders and down her back. Using his fingers he combed through the curls that sprang back to life after being confined for hours. “Your curls are like you,” he teased, “oh so properly controlled when necessary but set free to have their own way, they scatter like the shorebirds taking flight.”

  “Now you listen to me,” she said with mock sternness, “I have taken to heart my responsibilities now that we are married. Please don’t worry that I will...”

  He buried his face in the masses of her long hair that he held in his hands and shook his head. Then he raised his face to hers. “I love you as you are, Greta. I want your lightheartedness to fill these rooms like sunlight. I want to come home at the end of every day knowing that here waiting for me is my wife with her laughter that is like music and her smile that takes away all my weariness and worries.”

  “And on those days when I may not be smiling or laughing?”

  “Then I will come home and hold you and care for you until the lightness and the laughter return,” he promised.

  “I am sometimes given to tears,” she warned, stroking her fingers through his thick hair.

  He laughed. “I well remember that. After all, on our first real meeting it was your tears that stirred the embers of my attraction to you.” But then he saw her face lit by the full moon and her beauty took his breath away. “You are my wife, Greta, and never has God blessed a man more.”

  Greta flung her arms around his neck. “You know what I wish? I wish this day would never end.”

  “It is only the first of many days, Greta. Days that we will fill with laughter and tears and memories and, if God grants it, the blessing of children.”

  “Oh, you want children, do you, Luke Starns?” she teased.

  “Well, we do have that large table we need to fill.” But he knew that he sounded less than absolutely certain about their future. “You do want children, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she replied and as she placed her lips on his, she added, “And if those chairs are to ever get filled, we’d best get started, don’t you think?”

  With a roar of laughter, Luke scooped her high in his arms and carried her up the stairs to the large bedroom that overlooked the main street of Celery Fields. And as she settled under the light cotton quilt with Luke for their first night as husband and wife, Greta gave thanks and also begged God’s forgiveness for ever doubting that His intent all along had been to bring this stranger from Ontario to Florida—and into her life.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Handpicked Husband by Winnie Griggs!

  Dear Reader,

  Well, bless everyone out there who asked for more brides from Celery Fields! I’m delighted to have the opportunity to tell the stories of Pleasant’s half sisters, Greta and Lydia. This is Greta’s story with Lydia’s to follow. As I put this story together I found myself working from the premise that while God guides our path in this world, He rarely sees the necessity of letting us know in advance where that path may lead us—this is the very foundation of the concept of faith. Like Greta, we may be faced with an unexpected turn of events in our life that throws us into a panic. I recently had just such a situation when we learned that my husband’s chronic (and incurable) illness had reached its final stages. At the time I am writing this, all treatment possibilities have been exhausted and we are moving toward home hospice care and the inevitable end of his life and our life together. By the time you read this I cannot predict what will have transpired but as Oprah would say, here is what I know for sure: God has blessed us with a marriage and a partnership and an incredible romance that has lasted for over forty years and the memories of that love story—our story—will comfort me for all the days of my life.

  Please contact me via my website (www.booksbyanna.com) or write to me at P.O. Box 161, Thiensville, WI 53092.

  Blessings and all best wishes to you and yours!!

  Anna Schmidt

  Questions for Discussion

  Greta had basically grown up without a mother—her mother having died when she was only th
ree. How has that affected the woman she’s turned out to be?

  In what ways is Lydia a stabilizing influence on Greta and at what cost to her own happiness?

  What are the differences between Luke and Josef in how they value Greta?

  What do you think would have happened if Lydia had agreed to allow Luke to court her and they had ended up together?

  What was the real reason that Luke left Canada?

  His “sin” was not that he had caused or contributed emotionally to the death of the woman there. What was the charge brought against him by the father of the woman?

  How important do you think it was for the congregation to forgive Luke and welcome him back into the fold? Or should the Celery Fields congregation have honored the Ontario congregation’s demand that he make things right there before he could be accepted into any other Amish community? Give your reasons for your choice.

  Given their whirlwind romance and Luke’s past and the fact that Josef will continue to be their neighbor in the small community, what are Luke and Greta’s chances for a long and happy marriage?

  What part did faith play in the decisions made and the actions taken by: Greta, Luke, Lydia, Josef?

  This story is set in the Great Depression of the 1930s—in what ways do you see similarities between those hard times and the hard times Americans have been through most recently?

  Name three places in this story where God’s plan was questioned by one or more characters and three where His plan was followed.

  In the final book of the AMISH BRIDES OF CELERY FIELDS series, Lydia will indeed find true love. If you were writing her story, what would it be?