“I should just trust you and Old Mae.”
Abigail shook her head. “You do trust us. You want me here, don’t you?”
As soon as she uttered the words, she heard the double meaning behind them. Her cheeks colored, and she blinked rapidly.
But he didn’t seem to notice anything. “Jah. I want you here.”
“What Old Mae and I can offer helps. But it wouldn’t take away the pain Betty would be feeling now without the drugs.”
“Should I tell her? Betty, I mean?” Isaac asked. His forehead crinkled into a deep frown. The man was tortured by his decision.
“Isaac.” Abigail took a long, slow breath. “You’ve done what you think is right for your wife. Now you need to trust yourself.”
Instant tears flooded his eyes. He nodded his head and gulped in a huge breath. “Jah. Jah.”
“And Gott.”
His jaw tightened.
“He loves her,” Abigail whispered.
He nodded, but his expression grew taut.
“And you.”
He looked into her eyes and there was such anguish there that Abigail’s breath caught in her throat. She held his gaze, willing him to feel God’s love. Willing him to trust himself. Willing him to feel her support.
He stepped back and looked down. Then he turned on his heel and went into Betty’s room.
Abigail stared after him. Her heart clenched with the pain he was feeling. Old Mae had warned her about this. She’d warned Abigail not to become too emotionally involved with those she helped. Of course, she was to love them with God’s precious love. Of course, she was to give them her best gentle care.
But if she emptied herself too fully with every person she helped, she’d soon come up empty.
“Pace yourself,” Old Mae had told her with a soft click of her tongue. “You drain yourself, and you won’t have anything to give.”
Abigail put her arms around herself and stood very still. She was emptying herself too fully with Betty. And with Isaac. And with James.
And she knew it.
But she couldn’t seem to help herself.
Chapter Four
Greta perched on the davenport, feeling at loose ends. She’d done what preparations she could in the kitchen for the next meal. The house was tidy, and James was asleep. She didn’t know what to do with herself.
If Abigail would stay a bit longer, she supposed she could leave and go check on her father. Her breathing went shallow. Even the thought of him made her cringe. She drew in a jagged breath and scolded herself. The man was her kin, her own flesh and blood. She had no cause to feel so negatively toward him.
No cause? Who was she kidding?
The man was horrid. Callous. Mean. Greta’s face flushed hot, and she began picking at the skin around her thumbnail. If only her mother hadn’t died so young. And if only her sisters hadn’t fled from home at the first chance they’d gotten. Oh, they had married properly enough, but Greta knew that neither one was deeply in love with their spouses. They’d both seen the opportunity to bail and had taken it.
Which left Greta to deal with the sour man all by herself.
So when Betty asked her to come and help with James until she got better, Greta had nearly jumped for joy.
But things had changed since that hopeful day. Betty was not going to get better. Ever. Not until the dear Lord took her to home to heaven.
Greta jumped up and began to pace. Then what was going to happen? What then? Would Isaac keep her on? Or would he move back to Ohio to live again with all his family?
And take little James with him…
Greta sucked in air and tried to imagine her life without the cherished little boy. She couldn’t do it.
And Isaac. The poor man was sinking fast into grief. She wished she could help him somehow, but she had no idea what to do. So she just made sure everything ran as smoothly as possible in the home. That, she could do. Her brow furrowed. Isaac had been acting a bit strangely to her the last day or so. Nothing outright, but there was some kind of undercurrent going on that she didn’t understand. Had she displeased him somehow?
You’re being foolish, she told herself. The poor man is suffering. Why should he act normally?
“Greta?” Abigail said.
Greta looked toward the stairwell. “Jah?”
“Betty wants to see you.”
Greta hurried to the steps. “How is she?”
“Weak.”
Greta swallowed. “No better then.”
Abigail bit the corner of her lip.
Greta sucked in a jagged breath. “I know. I know. She’s not going to get better. You keep saying that. I’m sorry, and I know I’m being foolish, but I can’t stop…” Her voice faded.
“I understand. She’s your friend.” Abigail took another step down. “She seems like a fine person.”
“Oh, she is,” Greta said quickly. “A wonderful gut person.” She heard the effusiveness in her voice and was embarrassed by such a display of emotion.
Abigail gave her an odd look. Not unlike the look that had been on Isaac’s face when he’d spoken to her earlier. Greta wanted to run to the tiny mirror above the sink in the bathroom. Was there something strange about her today? Was there a smudge on her face or something? Why in the world would both Isaac and Abigail be studying her with such peculiar expressions?
Greta cast her eyes down and moved around Abigail to mount the stairs. Was Betty on the verge of death, and they didn’t want her to know it?
But that didn’t make any sense either.
Greta hurried down the hall and then slowed in front of Betty’s room. She gently pushed back the already opened door. “Betty?”
Betty shifted a bit under the covers. Abigail had opened the curtains, and the light filled the room with false cheer. The bottom sash was up a bit and a cool breeze wafted inside.
Greta moved close and perched on the side of Betty’s bed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. In truth, Betty looked horrid. If Greta hadn’t been there day after day to observe the devastation, she wouldn’t even recognize her. Off-colored skin stretched over high cheekbones, sinking deeply around the mouth, making Betty’s teeth look huge. Greta looked into her friend’s eyes to quell the nausea she felt at Betty’s appearance.
She was dying. And soon. It was painfully clear.
“James awake yet?” Betty muttered.
“Nee. He’s still sleeping. Do you want me to wake him for you?”
Betty winced. “Nee.”
“What can I do for you? Would you like something to sip?”
Betty thrashed, pulling her thin right arm from under the quilt. Her bony fingers picked at the cloth. “James needs a mamm.” Her voice was thin, warbled.
Greta’s chest tightened. “He has one, Betty. You’ll get better…” But the lie curdled on her lips.
“I’m dying,” Betty said. Her eyes fluttered and filled with moisture. “Isaac will need a wife.”
Greta sucked in her lips.
“I told Isaac…” Betty paused, swallowed hard as if her muscles weren’t working properly. “I told him to marry you.”
Greta’s eyes stretched wide and every muscle in her body tensed.
A tear dripped down Betty’s cheek. “He promised me.”
Greta jumped off the bed. “What?”
Betty closed her eyes. Her lips were working, although no sound escaped them. Greta sat down again, leaning forward. “Betty? What are you talking about?”
Betty’s eyes partially opened. “I don’t want them alone. You’ll be a good wife and mother. I—” A grating cough escaped her lips. A bit of drool caught at the side of her mouth.
Greta grabbed a handkerchief from the bedside table and dabbed at Betty’s lips.
“Betty, you’re tiring yourself. Please don’t worry. Please. Everything will be all right.” Greta nearly choked on her own words. She ran her hand over Betty’s sunken face. Betty’s skin was overly warm, but still soft. If she hadn’t bee
n looking, she could have mistaken it for a young child’s.
“Nee.” Betty grabbed Greta’s arm, startling her with the strength of her grasp. “You will marry Isaac. Promise me.”
“How can I possibly—”
“Promise me.” Her voice was tight, frantic.
Greta began to weep. “I promise,” she uttered. “I promise.”
Betty’s face relaxed. The grip on Greta’s arm dissolved into nothing, and Betty’s hand fell back onto the quilt. Her eyes were closed now, and she went still. Greta felt a moment of panic and leaned down close to her face. She could hear Betty’s faint breathing.
Greta wiped the tears from her cheeks and slowly stood up. She tucked the quilts along Betty’s thin frame, her lips moving in silent prayer. Then she straightened and with a loving backward glance, she left the room.
She stumbled in the hallway. What have I done?
Marry Isaac?
What had she just promised? Greta liked Isaac and admired him. Truth be told, more than once, she’d been envious of Betty’s good fortune in her choice of husband. But to marry because of a deathbed promise? She didn’t want Isaac marrying her because of that. She didn’t want anyone marrying her because of a desperate promise. She wanted love and affection. She wanted to be her husband’s choice—not that of his dying wife.
Greta stopped walking and leaned heavily against the hallway wall. She closed her eyes and blew out her breath.
No wonder Isaac was giving her strange looks. And Abigail, too.
No wonder.
What if Isaac thought she’d put Betty up to it? What if he thought this was her idea? A wave of queasiness moved through her. How awful if he thought so. She would never be able to look him in the eye again. Never.
She moved away from the wall and headed downstairs. Should she talk to him? Should she make sure he knew that she had nothing to do with it? She hurried to the front room window and peered outside. The barn doors were open, but then, they usually were. Without thinking, she ran to the wash room and snatched up her sweater.
“I’ll be back!” she called, hoping Abigail was somewhere near enough to hear her.
She pushed through the screen door and hurried to the barn. She burst through the doors and stopped cold. Isaac was squarely in front of her.
“What is it?” he asked, his tone rising. “Has she—?”
Greta’s mind whirled as she realized what he was asking. “Nee. Nee.”
“You’re in such a rush, I figured…”
Greta took a gulping breath. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to…” Her voice dropped. What was she planning to say? How could she even bring up the promise without feeling like a fool?
They stood staring at each other for a long minute, then Isaac sighed.
“She told you,” he said matter-of-factly.
Greta nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “She’s just trying to watch out for the boppli. And for me.”
“Jah.”
“I’m really sorry.”
The expression on his face nearly broke Greta’s heart. She took a step closer and then froze. What was she thinking? She could hardly give comfort to someone else’s husband. She jerked back.
“It’s all right,” she said. “And I … well, I …”
He looked ready to break down.
She tried again. “It’s just that, I understand. You had to promise her. But I don’t consider it a real promise…”
“Betty does.”
“I know. But I mean, well, what I want to say is, it’s all right.”
Greta swallowed. It’s all right? What in the world did that mean? “It doesn’t have to obligate you or anything,” she added in a tremulous voice. Why did she feel like bursting into tears?
Had her life become so pathetic that the only way she could get a husband was by obligation? By guilt over a deathbed promise? Greta felt her throat tighten. She had to leave, and quickly. Otherwise, she was going to start sobbing right in front of him.
She turned and ran.
Chapter Five
Isaac stared after Greta. The heaviness that was his constant companion increased to such a pitch that he stepped back and leaned against a thick wooden brace. What was Betty thinking to make them both promise such a thing? The very idea of someone taking Betty’s place in his life brought bile to his throat. No one could ever fill in for her.
Oh, Betty, his heart cried out, why did you have to get sick? We were going to live together for years and years and grow old together. We were going to bring many more bopplis into the world.
They’d talked about it non-stop during those early days. About the babies they’d rear, the crops they’d plant, and the animals they’d have. About Betty’s quilt-making and how she could contribute to the budget. About adding a daadi haus in back of the big house for his parents someday. Betty’s eyes had lit up with their plans. Hopefully, his parents would want to retire in Indiana from Ohio. At the time, Isaac had given a small snort at her suggestion. He didn’t think his parents would ever leave Ohio, but he loved Betty for her willingness to have them.
He loved Betty for so many things.
He peered through the barn doors toward the upstairs window of the house. Betty was there. In that room. Taking what were probably some of her last breaths.
What was he doing out there? Why was he working through his chores like a mechanical man? Why wasn’t he with his wife and child?
He wiped at his eyes and left the barn, striding purposefully toward the house.
“Oh, Isaac,” Abigail said when he nearly ran smack into her as she was leaving the house.
“Ach, I’m sorry, Abigail. You all right?”
“You didn’t even knock into me,” she said. Her face was drawn, and her eyes were shadowed. “You need to come.”
His heart did a flip, and he tensed. “Betty?”
Abigail nodded. “You need to come.”
Isaac pushed by her and hurried through the house. He took the stairs two at a time and raced into Betty’s room. He stopped cold at seeing her. Her thin face had lost its gray color, and instead glowed a light pink. Her eyes were fixed on him, piercing him with their directness.
“Betty?” He rushed to her side and knelt by the bed. “You’re better?”
Betty reached out, and he grasped her cold bony hand in his.
He heard Abigail hurry in behind him and stand to the side. Isaac looked at her, hope surging through him. But the look on Abigail’s face made his heart go cold. She gave him a slight shake of her head.
He looked back at Betty. She was staring up at him, and her lips curled back in a smile.
“My dear husband,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I love you.”
Isaac blinked back hot tears. “I love you, too. Betty, can’t you get well? You can, can’t you?” He cringed at the desperation in his voice. “Please…”
She shook her head. “I love you,” she repeated. She looked at Abigail. “Get James.”
Greta stepped in from the hallway, carrying the baby. “I already have him, Betty. Look. He’s excited to see his mama.” Greta’s voice broke as she spoke.
Betty bit her lip and tears pooled beneath her sunken eyes. “There’s my little boy,” she said. She pulled her hand from Isaac’s and reached toward the baby.
James’s eyes were wide and unblinking. And then he smiled at Betty, his baby teeth gleaming. He let out a giggle and wriggled in Greta’s arms, as if wanting down. Greta stood next to Isaac, who was still kneeling beside the bed.
Greta leaned down to place James at Betty’s side. Isaac reached up and took the lad, situating him next to his mother.
Betty petted his head and then ran her hand over his cheek. James gurgled and flailed his arms in an excited gesture, hitting Isaac on the shoulder. Betty gave a weak laugh.
Isaac looked up at Greta, and she picked the boy up and stepped back. Isaac reached over and tenderly brushed Betty’s hair from her forehead. He tuck
ed the limp strands behind her ear.
“Don’t have my kapp on,” Betty murmured.
“I always liked your hair flowing down your back,” Isaac said softly. He hovered over her face, taking in every aspect of her. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Betty slowly closed her eyes.
Isaac sucked in his breath and pressed his head against her chest. Betty’s breathing was so shallow he could barely feel any movement. He put his arms around her and yearned to climb into the bed next to her, but he was afraid he would crush her. She was so thin, so fragile. With the smallest of breezes, she would blow away and disappear.
Abigail stepped closer and put her hand on Betty’s forehead.
Isaac raised his head and stared up at Abigail, as if pleading with her.
Abigail bent down to Betty’s ear. “Is there anything you want? Anything you’d like us to do?”
Betty remained still. There was no response. Abigail straightened back up. She glanced at Greta and then at Isaac. “It’s a matter of minutes now,” she said. “She will go home soon. Very soon.”
Abigail looked to be fighting her own tears, but Isaac could barely see her through his own. He got up off his knees and pulled a chair next to the bed. He sat in it and closed his eyes. He was beyond praying for Betty’s recovery. God had not heard him. Or if He had, He’d ignored him.
The only thing left was to pray for Betty’s smooth home-going.
“Should I stay here?” Greta asked. “With the baby?”
James was solemn in Greta’s arms, sucking his thumb. Abigail went to stand by her. “I think it’s fine. But it’s up to Isaac…”
Isaac shuddered at the sound of his name. What had Greta asked? He hadn’t heard her. “What?” A fog had descended over him. Nothing was real. Nothing.
“Do you want me to stay in here with James?” Greta asked again.
Isaac blinked. He looked down at Betty, who made no movement at all. “I don’t know…” And he didn’t. He had no idea what was appropriate. Was Betty even aware that he was there? Did she know James was there?
Isaac stood and stepped to Greta. Gently, he took James out of her arms.
Amish Days: Replacement Wife: Hollybrook Amish Romance (Greta's Story Book 1) Page 2