Well, I never.
Greta had had enough. She spun around to leave when she heard Catrina shout her name. She froze, then slowly turned back around. There was no hiding now.
“Greta, dear! Why, it is almost as though you were trying to slink away. Do come say hello.”
Greta squared her shoulders and forced a polite smile as she marched across the clearing. Remember, Catrina does not know that you had hopes for a match with Jacob. You told her yourself that you held no affection for him. She means well, even if her kindness feels like salt on the wound. Just maintain your dignity and never let her know the truth.
Catrina’s features melted into an exaggerated look of sympathy as Greta drew near. “Oh.” She set down the bucket and ladle, reached for Greta’s hands, and held them in her own. “My goodness. Are you all right? I did not get a chance to speak to you at the worship service yesterday. But we have all been so very concerned.” Catrina looked to Jacob. “She looks . . . terribly unwell.”
Greta frowned and pulled her hands back from Catrina’s. The woman looked confused, as if she didn’t understand why Greta seemed irritated.
“I am perfectly well, thank you.” She lifted her chin a fraction. “Thankfully, Jacob was there when the wasps attacked. He came to the rescue.” Greta narrowed her eyes and studied Catrina’s reaction. “Did you know that he risked his life to save me?”
Catrina smiled and gazed up at Jacob. “I am not surprised. He looks like a hero, does he not?”
Jacob shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked uncomfortable.
“Ja. We ended up in the pigsty together. It was quite an adventure.”
“Oh, my. How very . . .” Catrina maintained her smile as she searched for the right word. “How very provincial.”
There was an awkward pause as Greta stood trapped between Catrina’s sugary-sweet smile and Jacob’s discomfort. She felt completely inadequate beside the woman’s flawless skin, shimmering blue eyes, and delicate hands. Everything Catrina did seemed graceful and deliberate. She is the absolute opposite of me. A hot, burning shame reddened Greta’s cheeks. Who did I think I was? I cannot compete with this woman. Especially when I look like a beady-eyed, swollen-faced pig!
Jacob frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Greta, I have been concerned for your health as well. How are you faring?”
Greta wanted to appear self-confident and independent. “Very well, thank you. Healthy as a hog, really.” Greta cringed inside. Healthy as a hog? Why on earth did I say that? Especially when I look like one!
Catrina gave an amused look. “You really should see to those stings. Have you tried vinegar?”
“Vinegar? Ja. Certainly. Lots of vinegar.”
“Ja. I can tell. Vinegar does have a powerful scent!” She glanced at Jacob and then looked back to Greta. “Do look after yourself. Perhaps you should be lying down. . . .”
Greta wanted to sink into the ground. She had never felt so unattractive or self-conscious. Jacob frowned again. “I think that you are making a splendid recovery. Tough as nails, if you ask me.”
Greta mumbled a quick good-bye and hurried away. She heard Jacob call out to her as she fled. His voice sounded kind and soft and she almost turned back around. But she forced herself to keep her eyes straight ahead and her head held high.
* * *
Greta’s skirts whipped against her ankles in a tight rhythm as she stalked home. The humiliation and disappointment wrapped around her tighter and heavier than her cloak. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. She shook her head. How could I have ever thought that he would choose me over the perfect Catrina Witmer?
Greta took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I really thought that Jacob and I had something, Lord. And now . . .” Greta spread out her hands. “It hurts, Lord. It really hurts to think that he likes that woman more than me.” Greta closed her eyes. “I know I should not speak badly of others. Especially to you.” She sighed. “But it is so hard not to feel jealous. She clearly has stolen any affection that Jacob might have ever had for me.”
Greta shook her head and walked a few yards in silence. She shook her head again. “It is hopeless, Lord. How can I ever compete with Catrina Witmer? She is perfect in every way! Not a hair out of place, her skirt and bodice did not have a single wrinkle or stain. And her face! She is gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” Greta narrowed her eyes. “I bet she is a great cook, too. I bet she never burns the bread.” Greta kicked a loose stone into the woods and stomped the rest of the way home. She stormed into the cabin and slammed the door. Ruth looked up from the stocking she was mending. “Let me guess. You ran into Jacob and Catrina.”
“How did you know?”
Ruth raised an eyebrow. “I have seen the way she looks at him.”
“Ja.” Greta yanked off her cloak and threw it on the peg. “You should have seen her! If she has her way, they will be married within a fortnight!”
“Ja. I have seen her. And I agree.” Ruth rubbed her chin. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Hmmph. I am not going to fight over him like a dog looking for scraps! That is for sure! If he wants her than he can have her.” Greta stalked across the room and collapsed onto a bench. She put her face in her hands. “It is just so deeply unfair. Jacob and I had finally gotten through to each other and she comes and steals him away!”
“What makes you so sure that she has stolen him?”
“Pffft. Did you see her? She is perfect. Perfect in every way.” Greta motioned at herself. “And I am . . . well, I am . . . ME!” She threw up her hands. “I rest my case. It is hopeless.”
“You know that there are more important traits than a beautiful face and alluring eyes.” Ruth raised her eyebrow. “As a Plain woman you should know that.”
Greta scowled. “There is nothing about me that will outshine Catrina.”
“How about your strength and perseverance? Your devotion to a Plain lifestyle? Your kind heart and giving nature?” Ruth held up her hand. “I really should not say any more. I do not want to tempt you to pride.”
Greta laughed. “You do not have to worry about that! My self-esteem could not get any lower right now.”
Ruth patted Greta on the knee. “Just try to remember what character traits are Plain and pleasing. Cultivate those and do not worry about anyone else. If Jacob chooses a pretty face and flirtatious manner over strength of character, then he clearly is not worth catching.”
“Truer words have never been spoken!”
“Good. ’Tis confirmed. Just be yourself and do not worry what Jacob Miller or Catrina Witmer think of you.”
* * *
Greta awoke early the next morning, ready for baking day. She mixed and kneaded, let the dough rise on the hearth, then punched it down and kneaded it again. “It is a blessing to have enough wheat.” She blew a strand of loose hair from her eyes and kept her hands elbow deep in dough.
“Ja. You are lucky that you came when you did. My husband and I went months without wheat, waiting for that first crop to be harvested.”
Greta wiped her hands on her apron. “I best hurry if I want to get my turn at the bake-oven. Barbara Gruber will have it stuffed full before I get there if I am not careful.”
“With all of those mouths to feed she must have quite a few loaves to bake.”
“Indeed.”
“And she is feeding the Fisher twins, too, is she not?”
“Ja. The poor dears. They still have not found a permanent home. The Gruber family has been good to them, but they cannot keep them forever, not when they already have six children of their own.”
“No. But I am sure der Herr has a home for them. We just do not know where it is yet.”
“Ja. He certainly does.” Greta felt a tug on her heart. “I wish . . .”
“You wish what?”
“I wish that we could take them in.”
Ruth set down her mending and nodded.
“Ja. I have thought of i
t.”
“You have?”
“Often.” Ruth put out her hands, palms up. “But how would we support them? The odds and ends that you earn from teaching are just enough to keep the two of us fed.” The old woman shook her head. “No. We would become an even greater burden on the community. Those children need to find a home with a mother and father who can give them more than we can.”
“Ja. I have thought about it too. And have come to the same conclusion.”
“Well, do not fret. The good Lord will have his will in the matter.” Ruth picked her mending back up and nodded toward the door. “Now, you better run along before Barbara takes over the entire bake-oven.”
* * *
The dough-filled basket pulled at Greta’s arm as she trudged toward the center of the settlement. She stopped and set the load down for a moment to stretch her back. It is going to be a long walk.
“Good morning, Greta.”
Greta recognized Jacob’s deep, comforting voice behind her. Her heart fluttered and she tried to push the feeling away. She turned and offered a distant smile. “Good morning, Jacob. I trust you are well.”
“Very well, thank you. But it is for your health that I am concerned.”
“I am well enough, thank you.”
“Recovered from the wasps, then?”
“Ja, I would say so.” She stared up at his dark, guarded eyes and felt a strange sense of loss. Our conversation sounds so formal and uncertain, as if we were strangers. What happened to the happy banter we once had? They stared at each other through a long, tense pause. Greta readjusted her grip on the basket. Her stomach felt like a hard knot.
“I am headed in the same direction,” Jacob finally said.
“And how do you know where I am headed?”
He pointed to the dough in the basket and raised his eyebrows.
“Right. Of course.” Greta laughed, then forced her face back into a neutral expression. “And what takes you in my direction today?”
“I have to seal the walls of the smokehouse before the slaughter.”
“So we shall have ham this winter?” Greta smiled at the thought, then caught herself. “Not that I expect you to share. I just meant . . .” She looked away.
“I will save you the best cut.”
“You will?” Her face lit up.
“I have plenty to share. Many households will welcome a break from wild game during the coming months.”
“Ja.” She frowned. He is giving ham to everyone. His offer means nothing.
Jacob motioned to Greta’s basket. “Let me carry that for you.”
“That is kind of you to offer, but I can manage just fine, thank you.” Greta didn’t want to show any weakness. Not when Catrina seemed so capable and perfect. I will show him that she is not the only one who can manage!
“Can you? Because it looks like you can barely hold it up.”
“What?” She raised the basket higher and tried to hide the tremble in her triceps. “You see, I am more than able.”
“There is no need to put on a show, Greta. Just let me carry the basket.”
“No, thank you, Jacob. As I have said, I can manage perfectly well on my own.”
Jacob exhaled. “Very well, Greta.” He motioned up the path. “Lead on.”
* * *
Jacob watched Greta struggle with the weight of the basket and shook his head. How did we end up like this? I was so sure that she held as much affection for me as I do for her. How did she slip away from me to become so distant? One moment I was ready to declare my intent to court her and the next moment I learn that she never wanted my affection. How could I have been so wrong?
His studied Greta’s graceful stride as she walked to the bake-house. She kept her chin held high, despite her obvious struggle with the overloaded basket. Jacob shook his head. I cannot help myself. There is something about Greta Scholtz that pulls me in. She has a spark that cannot be extinguished. Maybe it is her independent streak, her strength of character. Maybe it is that she makes me laugh. And there is her caring nature, obviously. I have heard how patient and loving she is with the settlement’s children.
He heard himself laugh. She cares for the settlement’s children, widows, and orphans—just not for me.
“Are you laughing, Jacob?”
Jacob frowned. He had not meant to laugh out loud.
“Do I amuse you, Jacob? Is there a joke at my expense?”
Yes, Greta, you amuse me very much. He clenched his jaw. “I was just thinking . . .”
“Ja? About what?”
Jacob shook his head. His face tightened into a mask. “Nothing. It was nothing.” They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Jacob stopped when he reached the smokehouse. Greta nodded a polite good-bye and walked across the clearing to the bake-oven. She snuck a glance at Jacob as she started a fire on the oven floor. She watched him roll up his loose linen sleeves and pick up a shovel. Greta turned back to her work before he noticed her staring. She added larger pieces of kindling to the growing flames and then slid a log into the fire. She stoked the rising flames, sighed, and snuck another glance in Jacob’s direction. He looked up and his eyes locked on hers. She gasped, turned her attention back to the oven, and made a show of stoking the fire.
Jacob cringed when Greta caught him watching her. Do not give her the wrong idea. He scowled and speared the ground with his shovel. Why can’t I keep my eyes off that girl? He pushed the blade deeper into the damp earth and brought up a shovelful of red clay. He cut his eyes to the bake-oven, grimaced, and forced his attention back to his work. Jacob kept his gaze on the red clay, but he could not keep his mind from wandering. She has made it clear that she holds no affection for me. I should leave her alone and let her be. He sighed. If anyone understands the need to be left alone, it is I. He grunted and speared the earth again and again with all of his strength. The aggressive action did not alleviate his emotions; it only made him feel tired and hot. He stopped and wiped his brow with his sleeve.
“It does not matter how I feel. She is not interested, so that is that.” I never should have let it get this far. I knew better. Marta’s face flashed in his mind. He remembered the pain of that loss—and the promise he had made never to let anyone in again.
He felt a gentle tug at his heart, a familiar warmth that he had not allowed in for months. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Lord, I tried to reopen my heart.” He hesitated and then shook his head. “But it looks as though I was wrong to try.” He speared the ground again. Maybe Greta’s rejection is for the best. As long as I am alone I cannot lose anyone again.
* * *
Greta returned to the bake-oven after the sun had trekked a quarter of the way across the sky and the fire had time to burn down to ashes. She made a tremendous effort not to look toward the smokehouse. Her resolve lasted all of three minutes. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jacob pressing red clay between the logs that formed the walls of the narrow building. She frowned and brought her attention back to the oven before he could catch her staring. Greta slid the wooden door aside and thrust her arm inside to judge the temperature. She counted to seven before the heat forced her arm back outside. Longer than five counts, but fewer than fifteen. The temperature should be right. She picked up the iron peel, which was shaped like a flat shovel, and scraped the ashes out of the oven. Next, she grabbed the hearth broom, dipped it in a bucket of water so that the bristles would not catch fire, and swept the remaining ashes from the oven floor. Finally, the oven is ready for baking. Greta slid the dough onto the oven floor with a wooden peel, shut the little wooden door, and wiped her hands. Perfect! Just wait, Jacob Miller. I can manage just fine on my own! She snuck another glance at the smokehouse. Slick red mud covered Jacob’s muscular forearms as he continued to seal the walls. Greta smiled with anticipation as she walked away and hummed under her breath. I will give him a loaf of bread just so that he knows what he is missing!
When Greta returned later in the
afternoon, the warm, nutty aroma of baking bread welcomed her. See, Jacob? I do not need your help. I managed to make three fine loaves of bread all on my own, thank you very much.
She thrust the wooden peel inside the oven, anxious to draw out a fresh, perfectly baked loaf. Greta heard footsteps coming her way and straightened her posture. She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirts. She slid the peel under the warm brown bread and pulled it out. Her faced beamed with pride at her domestic success. “Ah! Just right!” Jacob strode by as she raised the loaf of bread and she looked up. Perfect timing!
“Well, Greta, it looks like you could have used some help, after all.”
Greta’s mouth fell open in surprise.
Jacob nodded toward the bread. “Take a look at the other side.” She flipped the loaf around and saw that it was burnt black as an iron skillet. She pursed her lips, tossed the bread into her basket, and spun around on her heels. “Good day, Jacob.” Jacob tipped his beaver-felt hat and watched her storm off down the path.
Greta shook her head and laughed as soon as Jacob was out of sight. Pride cometh before a fall. And as a Plain woman, I should certainly know better than to gloat! She shrugged. I guess that is what I get for trying to impress Jacob Miller!
* * *
The children returned to school the next day and they brought more food than usual. “Our mothers said that you had an accident and that we should give you extra.” Christian crept forward. “Are you all right?”
Anna leaned closer to Greta and stared at her teacher’s face. She squinted with concentration. “Will you always be this ugly?”
“Oh. Anna. That is not a very nice thing to say.”
“I am sorry. But you look so . . . funny.”
Greta laughed. “You should have seen me a few days ago. I was as pink and swollen as a fattened pig.”
The children giggled and eased closer, hungry for hugs. “We missed you!” Eliza and Peter both shouted. Greta pulled her students close and wrapped them in her arms. “I am so glad to see you all again!”
Where the Heart Takes You Page 12