Amish Days: Replacement Wife: Hollybrook Amish Romance (Greta's Story Book 1)

by Brenda Maxfield

  Abigail was annoyed with herself when she took extra pains with her dress. Vanity was evil, but there she was, combing and twisting her hair into a bun more carefully, inspecting her deep blue dress with a critical eye for wrinkles or defects, giving her heavy black shoes an extra swipe with a polishing cloth. Not that she’d wear her shoes that day in all probability, but still….

  All because Joshua could arrive. She’d counted back the days from the postmark on his letter. And then she counted the days it would take for him to travel to Indiana. To be certain, she added a couple more days onto that. If Joshua hadn’t waited too long for her response, he could arrive any day now.

  She picked up the hand mirror from the dresser and inspected her image. For some reason, her hazel eyes looked more green that day. She looked better rested than when she was caring for Betty, but there was a paleness to her skin that wasn’t normal. Was she so nervous to see Joshua that it was affecting her looks? How odd.

  With a sigh of disgust, she plunked the mirror back on the bureau. Honestly, what was the matter with her? The Lord God wouldn’t be pleased to see such focus on her appearance. She wondered whether Joshua ever thought of such things, whether he wanted to appear attractive to her? Pursing her lips, she scolded herself soundly. Oh, the way her mind wandered.

  She looked down at her dress and absently ran her hand over the skirt, smoothing it against her legs. No reason to put on shoes right then. As far as she knew, she didn’t have any ailing patients to visit that morning. She ran downstairs and looked through the house for Old Mae. The house was empty, so Abigail pushed through the side screen door and went outside. The sun was already warm as it shone down on her kapp.

  “There you are!” Old Mae exclaimed, coming from the garden around back. She had a mess of lettuce and three plump tomatoes in her hands. “You slept late.”

  Abigail squinted into the still rising sun. “Jah. I did. I’m sorry.”

  “No harm done. Breakfast is ready for you on the counter.”

  “Thank you, Mammi. I won’t sleep late again.”

  Old Mae clucked her tongue. “Like I said, no harm done. Today, there’s enough corn to put some up.”

  “Already?”

  “Seems to be coming on early this year.”

  “I will put it up for you.”

  “We’ll do it together. And I’m drying herbs.”

  “Are the screens cleaned?”

  “They’re ready.” Old Mae waited for Abigail to open the screen door for her. “The sun should be hot today. Maybe you can help me lay the screens out.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now, go eat, and we’ll get to it.”

  Abigail wandered into the kitchen and saw a plate with eggs, potatoes, and toast growing cold on the counter. She didn’t mind if it was cold. After all, it was her fault that she hadn’t been downstairs in time.

  She picked up the plate and took a forkful of eggs.

  “Abigail! We don’t stand about eating like them Englischers do. Sit yourself down at the table proper-like.”

  Abigail had no idea how Old Mae knew whether fancy people stood up and ate or not, but she didn’t argue with her. Obediently, she sat down and continued eating her breakfast, finishing it off with a glass of fresh milk.

  Old Mae washed the lettuce and set it out on a dish towel to dry. She lined the tomatoes onto the window sill, and then she put her full attention on Abigail.

  “You expecting that young man today?”

  Abigail’s face flushed hot with embarrassment. Her grandmother had surely noticed the extra attention she’d put on her appearance that morning.

  “I don’t know, Mammi,” she mumbled, getting up to plunge her dishes into the soapy water in the sink.

  Old Mae said nothing more. She simply nodded her head and walked over to her shelves.

  Chapter Twenty

  Greta shook out the damp shirt and pinned it to the line. If she hung it just so, she often had little or no ironing to do. She bent down to grab up another one. Her dat didn’t do much physical labor those days, so she couldn’t figure out why she had so many shirts to wash. He still would go outside and act like he was being productive, but she knew the reality of it. Young Todd Fisher did most of the work around the place.

  But she’d never speak such thoughts aloud.

  When she heard a wagon on the drive, she dropped her father’s shirt back into the basket and went around to the front of the house. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Isaac drive up. She hadn’t heard from him in two days, and she was missing him. Well, missing James anyway.

  She pressed her hand against her chest. No. She must be honest. She was missing Isaac, too. Why else would her body be in such a state with his mere presence?

  “Greta,” he called and jumped down from the seat.

  “Gut morning, Isaac,” she said, smoothing her hair more tidily beneath her kapp. “What brings you over?”

  She wanted to bite her tongue. Why had she said that? It didn’t sound very welcoming, and Isaac was so welcome. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

  “I came to tell you the news.”

  A feeling of dread moved through her. He was leaving. She could see it on his face. He was leaving and taking James with him.

  “I’ve decided to go back with Mamm.” He spoke quickly as if he didn’t want to tell her. “For a while at least. I’ve been making arrangements with the people to take care of my land and crops.”

  Greta blinked back her tears and carefully put a smile on her face. “That’s nice for you. To go back home.”

  His brow furrowed, and he studied her face. “It’s best for James, I think.”

  She winced and looked away. She was foolish to take his comment personally. She knew he didn’t mean it that way. He wasn’t criticizing her care of James. She just wasn’t family.

  “I-I didn’t mean—” he stammered.

  “I know you didn’t,” she cut in. “And you’re right. James needs to be with his family.”

  “I wanted to thank you again, Greta…”

  “You don’t need to.” She sniffed and squared her shoulders. “Have a nice trip, Isaac.”

  He frowned as if expecting her to say more. “Jah. Thank you. Jah.”

  She swallowed. “Give James my love.”

  He nodded and looked about to say something, but then thought better of it. He appeared a bit lost, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His hand clenched the side of the wagon.

  Greta’s heart wrenched. She wanted to take him in her arms and tell him everything would be all right. Yet, would it? He’d lost his wife. Everything might never be all right for him again. And she couldn’t help him. As much as she wanted to. She couldn’t help him.

  She blew out her breath, working to keep the smile on her face. She would miss him. Miss him so much.

  “You’ll come back?” she said, and was horrified to hear the plea in her voice.

  He blinked and took a sharp breath. “That’s the plan. But … well…” He took in another breath. “That’s the plan,” he finished lamely.

  “Good-by, Isaac,” she said softly.

  He stared at her for a long moment. And then he gave a small shrug, so small, she almost didn’t see it. “Good-bye, Greta.”

  He climbed into his wagon and slapped the horse into action. Halfway down the drive, he turned back to look at her. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t hear him say the words, but she saw his mouth form them.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered back.

  And then, with a heavy sense of finality, she turned around and walked back to her basket of waiting laundry.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isaac felt an odd sense of loss as he drove away from Greta. The look of disappointment on her face haunted him. But she understood, didn’t she? Understood that he needed to go back to Ohio for a while? He shook his head. Suddenly everything in his life seemed such a burden. Even the simplest of decisions left him ree
ling.

  It was ridiculous.

  And why did he suddenly want to turn his cart around and go back to see Greta again? Was it because of the promise? He shuddered and kept his hands steady on the reins. No. He wouldn’t go back. There was no reason to. He would go on home and pack his things and make arrangements for transportation to Ohio. He knew a Mennonite driver who would be happy to take the three of them, and his fees were reasonable.

  His mother was ecstatic that he and James were going home with her. She tried to temper it with the sadness of the occasion, but he knew his mother. She was overjoyed.

  Maybe things would be better in Ohio. He would have time to get himself together. Not have to shoulder the full care of James yet. Not that he dreaded that. He loved the boy now more than ever. Betty lived on in him.

  He glanced up at the streaks of white clouds in the sky. He somehow knew that God wanted him to go back to Ohio. He wasn’t feeling particularly fond of God right then, but he still felt a sense of guidance. His jaw tightened. Maybe he could find some kind of peace with God in Ohio.

  Maybe.

  Betty would like that. She wouldn’t be happy that he felt estranged from God. She wouldn’t be happy about that at all.

  And Greta? Would she be horrified to know that he wasn’t happy with God? He winced. What did it matter? And why should he care?

  He snapped the reins on the backside of his horse. He, James, and his mother could probably be gone within two days’ time. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze on his face. Gone. It had a weird ring of finality to it. He opened his eyes again and blinked back the sudden tears.

  Betty, I miss you, he breathed. I’m lost.

  He visualized her dear thin face during her last days. And again, he remembered his promise. He stiffened and swallowed hard.

  Maybe later, much later, he could think again about his promise to her. Later, when it didn’t hurt so much. He blew out his breath, and snapped the reins again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Abigail was taking a short break from weeding the garden. She leaned back heavily in the rocking chair on the front porch and closed her eyes. A cool wind fluttered over her, drying the perspiration on her face. A tall glass of lemonade would taste wonderful right about then, but she didn’t want to get up and get some. She smiled at her own laziness.

  “You look mighty comfy,” came a rich baritone voice.

  Abigail jolted from her chair. “Joshua!”

  Her eyes met his, and a burning sensation pierced through her chest. He looked good. Handsome. Alluring. His startling blue eyes bore through her. Her mouth went dry, and it was as if her body suddenly wasn’t connected to her mind. She stepped forward, and only just stopped herself from running to meet him.

  “How are you?” he asked. He mounted the steps. His expression was wary, as if unsure whether he would be welcomed or not.

  “I-I’m fine.” Her breathing went shallow, and her knees shook beneath her dress.

  He was close enough now for his scent to fill her. His oh-so-familiar scent of outdoors, of growing fields, of a freshly laundered shirt. His hair had fallen to the side of his forehead where it gently curled just above his ear. He was clean-shaven, as evidenced by a small nick on his jaw.

  “Uh, sit down,” she said, and her words sounded both awkward and stilted.

  “Thank you.” He stepped across the wide porch in two easy strides. His long legs stretched before him as he sat in the rocker beside the one she’d just vacated.

  “You going to sit with me?” he asked.

  Why couldn’t he have come the day before, when she was clean and tidy? As it was, she was painfully aware of the garden dirt clinging to the hem of her dress and jammed beneath her fingernails. She sank onto the rocker and folded her hands to hide the dirt.

  His eyes were on her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Joshua always had this magnetizing effect on her, and it made her feel vulnerable and out of control. She began to rock, stiffly and quickly.

  “It’s gut to see you,” he said, lowering his voice. “Very gut.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “You did get my letter, didn’t you? You did know I was coming?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m staying at King’s Bed & Breakfast. They’re nice folks.”

  Again, Abigail nodded. She felt incapable of having a normal conversation. How could she have spent any time at all thinking about Isaac and his appeal when in less than one minute, Joshua Bechler could again capture her heart?

  It was absurd. She worked to regulate her breathing.

  Joshua gave her a lazy smile, looking completely at home on her grandmother’s porch. But then, Joshua had the uncanny ability to look at home anywhere. There was an easiness about him, a confidence that gave him an air of effortlessness and trust.

  “So you know how sorry I am,” he said, not taking his eyes from her face.

  “You said so in your letter.”

  “I meant it.” He leaned forward. “I was a fool, Abigail. An idiot.”

  It was so strange hearing him call himself the very things she’d yelled at him when he’d confessed the kiss. He’d been so hard then, so unreachable. But now, there he was in front of her, admitting to the very things she’d accused him of.

  “I-I, well, I apologize, too. I was ugly. Very ugly,” she stammered. She held back her tears, petrified she’d break down in front of him. Where was her recently gained balance? Where was the indifference that she’d worked so hard to develop?

  “You did apologize. I just didn’t acknowledge it. I wasn’t ready, Abigail. I needed to grow up and face what I’d done. To you. To us.”

  Her eyes burned.

  “Will you forgive me?” There was an urgency in his voice that tore at her.

  “Jah,” she said. The word almost stuck in her throat, but she said it. Because she did forgive him. Heaven help her, she was unable to resist him.

  He took a gulping breath, and his shoulders lowered. “Thank you.”

  “You came all this way to apologize?” she asked. “Your letter was enough.”

  He looked at her intently as if trying to discern her exact meaning. “You’re sorry I came?”

  Was she? She’d loved him so deeply once. Loved him so thoroughly that she’d been ready to commit the rest of her life to him. She pressed her lips tightly together, willing herself not to cry. No, she wasn’t sorry he came. How could she be? She wasn’t sorry at all. She wanted to breathe him in. She wanted to press herself close to him. She wanted his arms to enfold her and never let her go.

  “No,” she choked out. “No, I’m not sorry you came.”

  He fell to his knees before her chair and took her hands in his. “I’m so sorry, Abigail. I never stopped loving you. Never. I want you back. I want us to be married, just like we planned. I want you to come back home and be my wife. Please, Abigail? You would make me the happiest man in the district.”

  Abigail’s heart pounded. This was what she’d waited for. This was what she’d dreamed of. For months. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t do it. She could barely breathe.

  “Abigail?”

  But how could everything go back to the way it was so quickly? How could they forget what had happened between them?

  “Nee,” she uttered, struggling to her feet. “Nee.”

  She couldn’t do it. It was too soon. Too dangerous. What if they hurt each other all over again?

  He stumbled to his feet. “Nee?” His voice was a whisper.

  “How can we?” she asked, tears streaming down her face. “It’s too much. Too quick.”

  “But it isn’t quick. I’ve loved you for years.”

  She blinked at her tears and stared at him.

  “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?” His shoulders fell. “I’m sorry.”

  She sank back to her chair. Her mind whirled, and her breath came in short bursts. Her stomach twisted. She loved him. She sti
ll loved him. But this…?

  “Abigail?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Can we start slowly then? Can I court you again?”

  Joshua’s love for her was written so plainly on his face, Abigail felt unable to breathe. She wanted him. But she wanted to do it right this time. She wanted both of them to be sure.

  “You want to court me? You mean take it slow and careful?” she asked.

  “Slow and careful,” he repeated.

  She swallowed and clasped her hands together in a death grip. Court again?

  They could be careful and take their time. Her lower lip trembled, and she blew out her breath. Her eyes drank him in. How she loved him.

  She nodded.

  “Jah?” he asked. Raw hope echoed through his voice.

  “Jah,” she murmured. And she dared to let herself believe what was happening.

  He leapt to his feet and pulled her up from her chair. With a cry, he pressed her to his chest and put his arms around her.

  They stood for a moment together, clinging to each other. And then he let her go. “Thank you, Abigail,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  She smiled through her tears, and for the first time in months, she felt as if she had come home. “You came for me, Joshua.”

  “I came for you,” he murmured. He touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand. “I love you, Abigail.”

  “And I love you,” she murmured.

  “We’ll start over.”

  “Jah. We’ll start over.”

  He smiled at her, and Abigail felt the sunshine in his gaze. She squeezed his hand, and then she went to find her grandmother.

  The End

  Continue Reading…

  The Promise: Greta’s Story #2 is NOW ready!

  Here’s a sample for you:

  Greta bit down on her lip so hard, she tasted blood. With a quick jerky movement, she thrust the pan of meatloaf back into the fridge without even bothering to cover it.

  “Greta!” her father hollered. “Greta! Where are you?”