Amish Romance: The Wedding (Hollybrook Amish Romance Greta's Story Book 3)

by Brenda Maxfield

  She left for a moment and returned, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  He took her hands and felt her slight tremble at his touch. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.

  “For what?”

  “I want us to have a proper wedding.” He squeezed her hands. “Here, in your home with the bishop and all the community.”

  Her lips parted, and she gave a small gasp. “But I thought you didn’t wa—”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he interrupted. “I want a real wedding.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She nodded and sucked in her lower lip, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “Is that all right?” he asked.

  “Jah,” she said with a rush of breath. “If you’re sure.”

  Relief swirled through him. He’d pleased her—he could see that clearly. He’d made her happy. “I’m sure,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He drew her close and hugged her. “Nee. Thank you.”

  She smiled at him, and he kissed her cheek and took his leave. As he flicked the reins on his pony’s back, he felt pounds lighter.

  It was going to be okay, after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Abigail strode along the road with no real purpose in mind. It felt odd—taking a walk with no destination, no errand to run, no person to visit. It was what her grandmother would call making a bad usage of time that the Good Lord had provided. But Abigail was restless. She wondered again at her wisdom in coming all the way across the country back to Hollybrook. She should have stayed where she was. And she should have been happy with Joshua.

  But she wasn’t—or she wouldn’t have come.

  “Whoa,” came a voice behind her.

  She turned to see a man sitting in his wagon smiling at her. She recognized him. He was the man who worked the fields over at the Glick’s farm. His name was Todd…? She couldn’t remember his last name.

  “Gut morning,” she said.

  “Aren’t you Old Mae’s granddaughter?” He gazed down at her, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “Jah. That would be me.”

  “Can I give you a ride somewhere? Looks to me, we’re both going in the same direction.”

  Abigail’s brows raised. “There’s just one problem.”

  He sobered. “What is it?”

  “I have no idea where I’m going.” Abigail laughed, surprised at her playful tone and the improved mood that flowed through her.

  “Now, that is a problem,” he said, with mock severity. “But I’m thinking that it could be easily solved.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why don’t I just give you a ride back to your grossmammi’s place?”

  Abigail puckered her mouth as if in deep thought. She hadn’t been going anywhere anyway, so what difference did it make? Besides, talking with Todd Whatever-his-name-was would be a welcome distraction from the dark thoughts she’d been harboring.

  “That’d be right nice,” she said, walking to the other side of his wagon. She climbed in, settling herself a good distance away from him. Last thing she needed was gossiping tongues.

  He chuckled, and she gave him a quick look.

  “What’s so funny.”

  “Not a thing,” he said. “But I don’t bite, you know.”

  “I never thought you did.” She shaded her eyes from the low fall sun. “Surely, I would have heard about that.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed. “But don’t fret. I understand why you’re hugging the very edge of the seat.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure you do. You know how quickly gossip starts and spreads…”

  “So… You’re just wandering the gut earth today?”

  She nodded. “Something like that.”

  “I hear you’re good with health issues, just like your grossmammi.”

  “I try,” she said, pleased with his compliment.

  He flicked the reins and turned to her. “I’m Todd Fisher.”

  Fisher! Now she remembered.

  “I know. You work at the Glick’s.”

  “That I do.”

  They both fell silent then. The relaxed rhythm of the wagon rolling over the road filled Abigail with an easy peace. She gazed about the land, letting the beauty of the harvested fields sink deeply into her heart. Suddenly, she felt better. Maybe she hadn’t made a mistake coming there. Maybe things weren’t so dire after all. She was there. She was helping her grandmother with her healing work. She was safe and well.

  The Lord God had blessed her, and continued to bless her.

  When Todd pulled into Old Mae’s drive, she shot him a curious look. She’d expected him to let her off on the main road.

  “Here you are,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you for the ride. Truth be told, it was pleasant and much needed.”

  His forehead crinkled slightly as if he didn’t know how exactly to interpret her meaning. She giggled and touched his arm.

  “Just thank you,” she said.

  He tipped his head. “At your service, ma’am.”

  She laughed and climbed down from the wagon.

  “I’ll see you around?” he said, more like a question.

  “Of course.” She smiled at him and then turned and went into the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Greta’s two sisters, Rebecca and Mary, did indeed rise to the occasion. In truth, Greta hadn’t been sure they would. But after she and Isaac were published at the Sunday service, they got busy. The wedding was to take place in eight days’ time, and there was much to do.

  Greta’s main concern was getting her dress made. When Mary took her to the store to buy the deep blue fabric, Greta couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, her cheeks ached from her constant grin.

  “You look like one of those Englisch pumpkins in October,” Mary scolded her. “You know, the ones they carve out all funny-like.”

  But Greta couldn’t help it. She was so relieved and happy to be having a real Amish wedding.

  “If we’d known about this possibility sooner, we would have planted more celery,” Mary complained. “As it stands, we might not have enough for the wedding dinner. I suppose you’ve invited the whole district?”

  “Almost,” Greta said. “Isaac has been driving around asking people.”

  “I hardly know Isaac,” Mary said. “Neither does Rebecca. What does Dat think?”

  Greta gave her a look. “He wanted me to marry Todd Fisher.”

  “Todd Fisher? Isn’t he the one working your fields?”

  Greta pinched her lips together. You’d think her own sister would be sure of such things. But both she and Rebecca had been more than happy to not only leave home, but to wash their hands of their father. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Christian.

  But there it was.

  “Jah, he’s the one.”

  Mary’s brow raised, but she remained quiet.

  Greta stared at her. “You’ve hardly asked about Dat. How’s he’s doing and all.”

  Mary inhaled sharply and turned to Greta. “How’s Dat doing?”

  “Not that well.”

  Mary’s cheeks reddened, but she asked nothing further. She walked down the aisle, running her fingers over the bolts of material.

  “He’s feeble,” Greta said, following on her heels. “He’s cranky. Practically impossible to be around.”

  Mary avoided her eyes.

  “I could use some help with him,” Greta finally blurted out; although, she doubted whether Mary would even respond.

  But Mary did respond. She stopped walking and turned toward Greta. “I have my own kinner to take care of. You don’t,” she said. “I’m sorry he’s such a burden.”

  Greta blinked at her curt tone. “I will have a boppli in exactly eight days. Little James is not even a year old.”

  Mary looked away, staring down at the fabric. Greta waited.

  “This blue looks right ni
ce,” Mary said, as if the previous conversation hadn’t even taken place.

  Greta sighed. “Jah. I do like that.”

  She reached around Mary and picked up the bolt, taking it to the large table where the clerk would measure and cut it for her.

  Isaac came by late that afternoon.

  “Your fiancé is here,” Mary said, swooping through the kitchen, where Greta was preparing a platter of vegetables.

  Greta put down her knife and peered through the window. There he was, climbing down from his wagon. She patted her hair in place and hurried out to the porch.

  “Isaac,” she said warmly.

  He gave her a smile. “How are you, today?”

  “Gut. And you?”

  He joined her on the porch, and even though it was chilly, she offered him a rocking chair. He sat down and braced his hands on his thighs.

  “I’ll be going to fetch James in a couple days.”

  Greta smiled. “Ach, I’m glad. I’m sure he’s missing you something terrible.”

  “My family will be coming to the wedding.”

  “That’s gut. I’m eager to meet them.” Of course, she’d already met his mother after Betty had died, but she hadn’t met any of the rest of them.

  “We need to discuss something,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Your dat.”

  She sank against the back of her chair. “Jah.”

  “I’m thinking he can’t stay here alone.”

  “Nee.” She’d been avoiding this conversation, as she had no idea what to do about her father. It was true, he couldn’t stay alone, but she hesitated to suggest that he move in with them. Isaac didn’t have a daadi haus. And if her father lived in the big house with them, Isaac would probably regret that he ever married her.

  “He’ll live with us.” His voice was matter-of-fact.

  “Really?”

  “I’m thinking that your sisters don’t have much interest, ain’t so?”

  Greta glanced behind her through the front room window. What Isaac said was true, but she didn’t want either Rebecca or Mary to hear it stated so bluntly by their future brother-in-law. Neither sister seemed to be eavesdropping—at least that she could see.

  “Greta?”

  She began rocking. “You’re right. They don’t.”

  “We can put him in the bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  Greta leaned forward. “Isaac, he’s not an easy man.” She glanced behind her again. Dare she say more?

  He studied her.

  She licked her lips. “He’s difficult…” Her voice faded. She heard a noise out in the barn and leaned around Isaac to see Todd Fisher hitching up his horse. She hadn’t realized he was still there. He must have been working on something in the barn.

  The days were shorter now, and it was growing dark, but she saw Todd hesitate and look over at them on the porch. She felt the familiar discomfort she always felt when it came to Todd. She liked him. But she loved Isaac. And that was the long and short of it.

  But Todd knew about her deathbed promise to Betty, and he hadn’t approved.

  She squirmed a bit, shifting in her chair. She focused back on Isaac. “Dat probably won’t want to go,” she said.

  “Probably not.” Isaac grasped both arms of the rocking chair. “But I don’t see another choice. Do you?”

  She didn’t. Not one that would work, anyway. Both of her sisters’ places had a daadi haus. It made more sense to move their father to one of them. But their husbands would never agree. Nor would they.

  “Nee,” she answered him. “There is no other choice.”

  “Shall I speak with him?”

  She stopped rocking. “Let me do it.” She spoke quickly. “Let me introduce the idea, so to speak.”

  He rose. “All right. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” He hesitated as if deciding whether to do something. And then, he stepped to her and leaned down, kissing her cheek. It was more of a peck than a kiss. Tears sprang to her eyes. It felt as if he was kissing her out of obligation, and she hated it.

  She stood, and with effort, she put on a smile. “Gut night, Isaac,” she said.

  “Gut night, Greta.”

  Her eyes followed his movements as he climbed into his wagon and left the yard. He didn’t look back, not that she expected him to.

  But still, it would have been nice.

  The sound of another wagon interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Todd Fisher, staring at her.

  “I’m off,” he said. “You’ll tell your dat?”

  She folded her arms against her stomach as if protecting herself. “Jah. I’ll tell him.”

  He continued to look at her, and even as dusk fell, she saw the emotion in his eyes. She saw the regret. The compassion. The all-too-knowing assessment.

  “It ain’t too late,” he said, his voice a near whisper.

  She jerked back, nearly stumbling. He snapped his reins on his horse and drove off.

  Yes, it was. It was much, much too late.

  Chapter Nine

  Abigail tucked the wee babe in his mother’s outstretched arms.

  “He’s beautiful, Edna,” she said. “Fine and healthy, too.”

  Edna smiled, a tear coursing down her cheek. “I was a bit worried,” she admitted. “Thank you, Abigail. Thank you.”

  Abigail grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  “You’ll tell Old Mae,” Edna asked.

  “Jah. I’ll tell her. Don’t worry. She’ll be wanting to come and take a look herself. I know she was sorry to miss the birthin’.”

  “It’s just that she ain’t never missed one of mine. All five of ’em been brought into the world by Old Mae.”

  “Like I said, she’ll be coming around. Probably tomorrow. I think Joseph will be much better by then.” Abigail began tidying the room. This was her first solo birth since she’d arrived. She hadn’t confessed that to Edna, as she hadn’t wanted to give the mother any concern. Old Mae had sent her to Edna with full confidence. And since it was Edna’s sixth, Old Mae hadn’t foreseen any issues.

  Abigail supposed there hadn’t been any—not really. But both of them thought the baby took too long to make his appearance. Edna’s nervousness had caught hold of Abigail’s throat, but she’d managed to remain calm.

  Old Mae had schooled her hard on that. “You got to always be calm, always confident. You can’t have folks wonderin’ what you’re doin’. Makes things go bad.”

  “Abigail?” Edna said as she nuzzled her son’s cheek.

  “Jah?”

  “Someday, you’ll have one of your own.”

  Abigail’s heart squeezed. Edna’s words twisted through her. How she wanted one of her own, but that didn’t seem very likely, considering the status of her romantic prospects.

  She’d wanted to have a child with Isaac. And she’d wanted to mother his young son, too. Her face grew hot, and she blinked back her sudden tears.

  “Jah. Someday,” she whispered. She gathered up the soiled sheets. “I’ll be taking these down now and sending your family up. Do you need anything else?”

  Edna put her son to her breast. “Nee. We’re just fine.”

  Abigail gave the mother and son a wistful look and left the room.

  Abigail shrank down inside her cape, trying to stay warm. The day was unseasonably cold, and she should have brought her scarf. But she’d been in such a happy rush to get to Edna’s that she hadn’t taken the time.

  Her grandmother would be proud of her work but would take it in stride. Abigail’s first birthing. It was an occasion, wasn’t it? Abigail felt it was, but she knew better than to expect any great praise. It wasn’t her grandmother’s way—it wasn’t the Amish way.

  She snapped the reins and their speed increased. She’d had another letter from Joshua. She needed to write him back. It was the decent thing to do. She let the steady clip clop of the horse’s hooves put her in a trance-like state. Her head bobbed as her mind went back to Joshua. She’d
been so fond of him once—so fond that she’d agreed to marry him. Unofficially, of course. They weren’t ever published. But somehow, she couldn’t get over his betrayal, even though he’d done everything possible to apologize.

  Consequently, it must not be right for her to marry him. Or she’d already be Mrs. Joshua Bechler. She gave a wry laugh. How many times had she stood next to an open window repeating the name, Mrs. Joshua Bechler, Mrs. Joshua Bechler, to the birds, the trees, and all of nature.

  She sighed. That was over.

  And so was Isaac Wagner.

  When she arrived back at the farm, she took care of her grandmother’s horse and cart. Then she headed straight inside and up to her room to write Joshua.

  Dear Joshua,

  I just came back from a birthing. I felt that I needed to write to you. It looks like I’ll be staying in Hollybrook indefinitely. Mammi likes me here, and I’m learning so much from her.

  Abigail paused, thinking that perhaps just by saying she was staying there, he’d know she had no interest in pursuing their courtship. But she knew that she was taking the cowardly way out. She put her pen back on the paper.

  Thank you for coming all the way to Indiana to take me back to Pennsylvania. I truly thought it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Joshua, I hope you have a very happy life and a very happy family someday.

  I shall pray Gott’s blessings over you.

  Your friend,

  Abigail

  She reread what she’d written and then carefully folded the letter up, sticking it inside one of the envelopes Old Mae had given her. She affixed a stamp and ran out to the metal mailbox on the road.

  “There,” she whispered as she raised the red plastic flag.

  Good-bye, Joshua.

  Chapter Ten

  “Dat? Can I talk to you for a bit?” Greta asked.

  Raymond looked up from the farmer’s almanac he was reading. “What?”

  She sank down on the davenport across from his chair. “It’s about after the wedding.”

  He shifted in his chair and set the almanac on his lap.