Jacob sighed. “What are you getting at, Jonah?”
“Well, since you mention it, I cannot help but notice how suitable you and Greta are for each other. But, the poor girl is convinced that you are not the least bit interested.” Jonah laughed. “How ridiculous is that?” He shook his head and looked Jacob in the eye. “You must come clean with her, Jacob. It is not fair to let her think that you have no feelings for her.”
Jacob let out a long, slow breath of air. Do not falter now. No good can come from a relationship with Greta Scholtz. No matter how enchanting she is. “But I have no feelings for her, Jonah.”
Jonah flinched with surprise. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Jacob shook his head. “Trust me, Jonah. I hold no affection for her.” He pushed his plate away.
“I heard that you were courting her.”
Jacob laughed and shook his head again. “It seems that people are hearing a lot of things about me since Greta Scholtz arrived.”
Jonah frowned. “You never courted her?”
“Never.” Jacob gave Jonah a hard stare. “And I do not intend to.”
Jonah rubbed his chin. “You are sure?”
Jacob threw up his hands. “I think I would know if I were courting a woman.”
Jonah grunted and shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Jacob frowned. “I know that people have been . . .” He paused, searching for the right word. “Encouraging us to court. But I have never courted Greta Scholtz and I never intend to. As I said, I hold no affection for her.”
“None at all?”
“None.” Jacob paused. He knew that it was wrong to lie. But he told himself that a lie was the only way to protect Greta. And himself. I cannot bear to fall for another woman and lose her again. And she is better off without a man like me, who leads his wife to disaster.
Jonah sighed. “Well, you are a grown man, Jacob. I suppose that you know what you want.”
“Ja. I suppose I do.”
Jonah picked up his beaver-felt hat and left in a somber mood. Jacob latched the door behind his friend, settled back in front of the fire, and stared into the dying embers. The room felt thick with memories of his wife and tiny son. He stoked the fire and watched the sparks flash against the dark air.
Jacob sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. How much longer can I run from how I feel? He stared into the fire until the light faded from the ashes. I loved Marta—I will always love Marta. Guilt flooded into Jacob. He closed his eyes. I cannot bear to let Marta go. And yet, how long can I hold on to someone who is gone?
Jacob frowned and hurried to his feet, almost knocking over the three-legged stool. He shrugged into his coat and picked up the ax by the door. Jacob knew how to avoid facing the issue. Splitting a few logs should do it. An icy wind whipped across his face as soon as he opened the door. He braced himself and headed into the cold, dark night.
* * *
Greta stood at the table in the dim, early morning light to skim and strain the milk she had taken from Rose before dawn. She remembered her father as she set aside the wooden bucket and unpinned a soiled apron from her bodice. Before he died he told her to take the money sewn into the lining of his coat and buy a cow when she reached America. She poured a cup of fresh, frothy milk into a cup and recalled the warmth of his work-worn hand as she held it on the Charming Nancy. Father’s last thoughts were for my future. I will find a way to succeed here, for him. Even if I have to do it on my own. She had almost given up and left Rose on the trail as the group of settlers hacked their way through the forest. Greta had to push and coax the animal across creeks, through thick brush, and down steep ravines. But finally, the party reached their destination with a disgruntled milk cow in tow. I did not give up then and I will not give up now.
A child’s eager shout drifted in through the oilcloth that covered the window. Greta set the tin cup down and tried to make out movement through the hazy cloth. “Whatever could be causing such excitement?”
“Go see and let me know,” Ruth said as she splashed a bucket of water into the cauldron that hung inside the large fireplace.
Greta heard another high-pitched shout and hurried outside. The Fisher twins galloped through the clearing that encircled the cabin and motioned for her to follow.
“A new family has arrived!”
Greta clapped her hands and grinned. “Wunderbar!”
Peter’s wool hose sagged below his knee as he pumped his chubby legs to keep up with his sister. Eliza held her hand over her kappe to keep the starched fabric in place as she dodged a fallen tree, then glanced back at Greta with an excited smile. “Hurry up!”
Greta could not maintain the twins’ pace, but she followed their shouts and laughter down the footpath that wound through the settlement. The morning spread bright and brisk around her as she felt an eager anticipation at the promise of new neighbors who would help their Amish village survive.
By the time she reached the center of the settlement, the twins had already greeted the newcomers and rushed back to their morning chores. Greta spotted a solitary cart across the clearing from the smokehouse. A young woman stood in a graceful pose with her hands clasped at her chest as she surveyed her surroundings. Greta caught a flicker of concern on the woman’s face, but her remarkable beauty outshone the negative expression.
Greta held up her hand and called out a greeting.
The woman turned and smiled. Her striking blue eyes shone in contrast to her coal black hair and fair skin. “Wunderbar. I was beginning to wonder if we had found the right place. My grandmother and grandfather have gone in search of the bishop, but the only people I have seen are two small children, running about like wild animals.”
Greta laughed. “The Fisher twins. And I am Greta Scholtz.”
The woman smiled a polite, yet careful smile.
“We haven’t a bishop yet,” Greta continued. “But I am sure that we will draw lots for one soon. Our settlement is growing quickly. And now, we have another family!”
“I am Catrina Witmer. From Philadelphia.” She looked past Greta and searched the clearing with her eyes. “Is there any place to rest and refresh? It has been a terribly long journey. And I have seen nothing but trees, dirt, and squirrels the entire way.”
“We are so very glad that you have made it to us!”
“Ja.” The woman’s face looked strained beneath her perfect features. She leaned against the cart and smoothed her neck cloth. “I thought we would never arrive.”
“You came alone? Just you and your grandparents?”
“We had a guide, but he has already pocketed his wages and gone. Gone where, I cannot imagine.” She waved a hand toward the forest that towered around them. “Where is there to go here?”
Greta laughed. “You will get used to the wilderness. It is not the empty place that I once thought. The forest holds wild foods to forage, and game for our table, and ancient hemlocks taller than you could imagine anything could grow. Everything we need is here.” Her eyes swept across the tree line. Greta had not realized that the backcountry had truly become home until that moment. “You will grow to love the wilderness, the stark beauty and even the quiet isolation.”
Greta noticed that something other than the ancient forest had caught Catrina’s attention. Greta followed Catrina’s gaze and frowned. The newcomer was watching Jacob stride out of the woods as he headed toward the smokehouse.
“Well, it seems that you are right.” Catrina smiled and straightened her posture as she watched the tall, masculine figure in the distance. “Perhaps we are not so isolated after all.”
“Oh. Ja. Well, that is not exactly what I meant.”
“No?”
Greta cleared her throat. “Your parents did not join you?”
“What?” Catrina pulled her attention from Jacob. “Oh. Ja. They stayed in Philadelphia. They own a shop and, well . . .” She shrugged. “They
are not Amish.”
“Oh.” Greta’s brows knitted together. “They are not, that is to say, I do not mean to pry but, they are not . . . ?” She did not want to say the words.
Catrina laughed. The sound was soft and feminine like tiny bells. “No. They are not shunned. They were never Amish. My grandparents converted late in life, after my mother had married and moved out of the house.”
“But you have been baptized in the faith?”
Catrina shook her head. “Not yet.” Her gaze returned to the other side of the clearing. She watched Jacob disappear inside the smokehouse. “Is he spoken for?” Her eyes stayed on the empty doorway, even though she addressed Greta.
“Jacob Miller? Oh. I don’t . . . I could not say. . . . He is not courting anyone, but he is recently widowed and is not interested in—”
Catrina smiled a soft, knowing smile. “Not interested? We will see about that, Greta dear.”
“Oh. I don’t . . . I mean, I suppose . . .” Greta didn’t know what to say. Her stomach dropped at the thought of the beautiful stranger setting her sights on Jacob. Her Jacob. No, not my Jacob. Greta frowned and twisted the ties of her kappe in her fingers.
A hesitant expression marred Catrina’s face. “Forgive me, Greta. I have been too bold. Has he showed you any promise of affection? Perhaps you have been hopeful that he will court you? I am sure that there are few eligible men here.”
“Promise of affection?” Greta’s frown deepened. “No. He is not . . . Jacob Miller is . . .” She searched for the right words. “He has shown no interest in courting since his wife—”
“Then you have no expectations?”
“Of courtship?”
“Ja.”
Greta cleared her throat. She hesitated. “No.”
Catrina smiled. “I have decided that we will be great friends, Greta. Surely there are not many other women our age here?”
“No. Only us.”
Catrina’s smile broadened.
Greta looked away. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks.
“I do believe that it is time for me to meet Jacob Miller.” She giggled. “I could use help unloading my belongings. And he is the ideal candidate for the job.”
“Oh.” Greta swallowed. “Oh, I see.”
Catrina set a soft, delicate hand on Greta’s arm, but her gaze stayed on the smokehouse door. “Thank you, dear. Lovely to meet you.” Her eyes lit up as Jacob strode out of the smokehouse and into the sunlit field. Catrina flashed a dazzling smile and lifted her free hand in a graceful wave. Jacob tipped his beaver-felt hat and nodded. Greta wished that she could read his expression from across the clearing, but his chiseled face remained guarded. Greta stared at Jacob for a few beats, then murmured a quick good-bye to Catrina and slipped away into the forest.
Her heart beat far too fast for a woman who claimed to have no desire for a man’s affection.
Chapter Ten
Greta woke up early the next morning filled with happy excitement. Today is the first day of my new school! Then her mood dropped like a stone when the fog of sleep cleared and she remembered the way Catrina Witmer had watched Jacob the day before. Mayhap I should have admitted my feelings to her. I could have discouraged her.
Greta sighed and slid her woolen hose up her legs, then tied them above her knees. She did not want to touch the cold, rough earth beside her pallet with bare feet. She shook her head and rose from the warmth of the quilt. The chilled morning air struck her through her thin shift and she shivered. It matters not. I should accept that Jacob has no affection for me. But the thought of him with another woman feels like a heavy stone in my chest. She frowned as she remembered the newcomer’s remarkable beauty. I should not begrudge her a good match. It is not her fault that Jacob has rejected me. I should not have allowed myself to develop feelings for him. I must set Jacob Miller aside and move on.
“You seem troubled this morning.” Ruth looked up as she stirred a bowl of cornmeal and water for the morning’s corn cakes. Greta had told Ruth about Catrina’s arrival the day before, but she had not disclosed her obvious interest in Jacob. Greta forced a smile. “All is well.”
“I am surprised that you are not more excited at the arrival of another young woman your age.”
Greta looked away. “The children will be here this afternoon. There is much to do beforehand. I must hurry.”
Ruth studied Greta’s frown and started to speak, but closed her mouth instead and continued to stir the corn cake batter. She shrugged. “We will speak more of Catrina later, mayhap.”
Greta’s frown deepened. “Mayhap. But I would rather think of my plans for today.” The cold air made her fingers fumble as she laced the ties of her bodice.
“It seems odd to bring all the children here and run a school. It is not our way.”
Greta looked up, concerned that Ruth did not approve. But the elderly woman smiled. “Oh well. A new world calls for new ways, I suppose.”
Greta grinned as she secured her long, shining hair and fastened her white kappe. “That does not sound like you, Ruth. What is next? Will you suggest that we give up our Plain ways to wear lace and buttons, or for our men to grow their mustaches like soldiers?”
Ruth laughed. “Oh, Greta!” She shook her head. “But, all joking aside, it is a good thing to see you help the children.”
“And being useful.”
“Ja. It is not easy to be a woman on her own.”
Greta sighed. “It seems so easy to be a man. Take Jacob.” She waved in the direction of his farm. “He is on his own, just like me, but he can live alone and support himself. He is strong enough to plow his fields and he can shoot his own supper.”
“True.” Ruth stoked the fire. “But he is still expected to marry. For the good of the community. We all must think of the community, not just ourselves.”
Greta sighed and walked to the window. She stared through the oilcloth and tried to make out the shape of the trees that stood between her and Jacob’s cabin. “I want more from a marriage than that.” Greta wanted to explain but didn’t know how. She remembered the way her heart beat like a drum in her throat when Jacob gazed down at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes, or the way her stomach leapt when he flashed his sly half smile.
Ruth chuckled.
Greta turned abruptly from the window to Ruth. “Is that funny to you?”
“Just imagine Jacob Miller trying to spin his own flax, or make lye soap out of ashes, or mix an herbal remedy for the croup.”
“Oh. Ja. I suppose he needs help too.” Greta looked down. “But he does not want that help to come from me.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I was never interested in him, anyway.” Greta felt a pang of guilt at the lie.
Ruth raised an eyebrow. “You are sure about that?”
“I know when somebody is disinterested.”
“And aloof,” Ruth added.
“And aloof,” Greta said.
“And guarded.”
“And guarded.” Greta nodded.
“And handsome.”
“And handsome.” Greta laughed as soon as the words escaped her lips. “You tricked me! I did not mean . . .”
“Of course not, dear.” Ruth pulled the iron spider off the coals and checked the corn cakes. “Of course not.”
Greta frowned and set the table. She let the trenchers bang against the wood and Ruth clucked her tongue in gentle reprimand. The young woman sighed and threw up her hands.
“All right. Let’s just say that I have feelings for him. Just for the sake of argument.”
“Ja. Just for the sake of argument.”
“Let’s just say that I am interested in Jacob. Mildly interested, mind you. Barely interested.”
“But interested.”
“Theoretically.”
“All right. Theoretically.”
“So.” Greta cleared her throat. “Let’s just say that I am interested. What good would it do? He has made his feelings clear.” Greta felt an une
xpected flood of emotion. She clenched her jaw and tried to force it back down. “Do you not remember, Ruth? Last we spoke he said that he had no affection for me.”
Ruth frowned. She poured the corn cake batter into the iron spider that sat atop the burning coals in the hearth. The surface sizzled and earthy steam billowed upward as the batter spread across the hot metal. “Sometimes people say things that they do not mean. Especially if they are afraid to admit how they really feel.”
“Maybe.” She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “Or maybe he feels nothing for me.”
Ruth sighed and shook her head, but did not argue the stark declaration.
* * *
Jacob looked up from his field of winter wheat when he heard the shout. The stalks of grain rippled in the wind like the waves of an earth-colored sea. He cupped a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the low afternoon sun. A group of children ran along the footpath that wound past his farm and into the old growth forest. He smiled when he realized where the children were headed. Greta’s little school is underway. Jacob wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the carefree scholars laugh and play on their way to their studies.
He remembered his last conversation with Greta and cringed. I said things that I should not have said. He felt that familiar rush of pain that appeared anytime he was tempted to draw closer to Greta Scholtz. He watched the children disappear into the forest and sighed. My grief and anger over Marta has become a prison. He swallowed hard. And yet, I still do not think I am ready to let go. He could feel his heart harden as he remembered his wife and son. He closed his eyes. Help me, Lord. I am so afraid that you will allow everything to be taken from me again. How do I trust you as I once did?
Jacob turned back to his work as he wrestled with memories of Marta, his floundering relationship with der Herr, and his feelings for a spirited schoolteacher that could no longer be pushed away.
* * *
The children arrived at the Widow Yoder’s cabin full of smiles and chatter. They offered a polite hello, sat down in a semicircle around the hearth, and gazed up at their new teacher. Ruth sat in the corner of the cabin, out of the way, mending a torn bodice. Greta cleared her throat. Where to begin?
Where the Heart Takes You Page 8