She still had a choice, didn’t she? Betty would never know what they decided. She leaned back on her knees and wiped her sudden tears with the back of her hand. With a sigh, she sank all the way down on the floor. This couldn’t be about Betty.
It was about her. And Isaac. And James.
Betty, Betty, Betty. Why did you make us promise? I don’t even know if anything would have happened between Isaac and me without it.
So, did that make it invalid?
Her feelings weren’t invalid. She knew that. But Isaac’s? Did he have any feelings at all toward her? And if he didn’t … what then?
Greta closed her eyes. What did she want? For the hundredth time, she visualized Isaac’s handsome face. She thought about how his eyes creased at the corners when he laughed. She sucked in her breath. She would give anything to see him laugh again. To see him happy.
Her heart squeezed painfully. She shuddered.
What did he plan to say to her? She got back on her knees and continued scrubbing. Her hands felt raw, and one of her legs began to cramp up. She ignored both and kept scrubbing.
Greta was ready to hitch up Clacker to go and fetch her father, but as she was walking to the barn, a buggy drove in. She stopped and looked. It was Matthias bringing her father home. She felt immediate relief. She hadn’t wanted to go to Isaac’s, and now Matthias had saved her the trip.
She walked over to the buggy, waving the cloud of dust away.
“Thank you, Matthias,” she said into the buggy as her father climbed down.
Matthias touched two fingers to the brim of his hat. “My pleasure. We’re finished up now. The cupboards are in.”
“Already?”
“With the three of us working, it went quick-like.”
“That’s wonderful news then.”
Raymond leaned back into the buggy. “Thank you, Matthias,” he said, his voice weary. “Gut work today.”
“Jah. Gut work.”
Greta shut the buggy door. With a nod of his head, Matthias went on his way.
“Let’s get you inside,” Greta said to her father, offering her arm.
Raymond took it without a grumble. Greta led him up the porch steps. “I’ll have supper on in no time.”
He nodded. He was heavy on her arm, and she let him continue to lean on her all the way into the front room.
“Just sit here, Dat. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
He grunted a response and sank onto the davenport.
“Would you like some lemonade while you wait? It was a hot one today, didn’t you think?”
Raymond looked at her. His usual hard gaze was softened by tears in his eyes. Greta tensed.
“Dat, you all right?”
“Of course,” he said, but his usual surliness fell flat. “Get me that lemonade.”
He looked away, and she knew he was trying to hide his tears. What had happened to him since the other day? He wasn’t acting his normal self. She patted his shoulder and hurried to the kitchen for his lemonade. Why should she question it? This new version of Raymond Glick was easier to get along with. She should be happy.
But she couldn’t stave off the worry that wriggled through her. She poured a tall glass of lemonade and returned to hand it to him.
He took it with a shaky hand. “Not very hungry,” he said, avoiding her eye. “Think I’ll go on up.”
“What? You mean skip supper?”
“Quit your fussing. If I want to miss supper, I will. I ain’t no boppli that needs coddling.”
“Of course not, Dat. Go on up if you like. I’ll fix you a sandwich and bring it up.” She could see he was about to protest, so she hurried on. “That way you can eat it or not as you please.”
“Said I wasn’t hungry.”
“I know. But it’s no problem for me to bring one up just in case.”
“Suit yourself,” he grumbled. He rose to his feet, and began to shuffle toward the staircase. The lemonade slopped over the rim of the glass, leaving a trail behind him. But Greta didn’t say a word.
She simply wiped it up with a damp rag after he was upstairs. Then she went to fix his sandwich.
Chapter Fourteen
Actually, the fact that her father was upstairs early that evening was a blessing. Now, Greta wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse to run down the road to Edmund’s Pond. She changed her dress two times, finally settling on the deep blue cape dress she usually wore on church Sundays. She took down her long hair, brushed it, and re-twisted it into a fresh bun, pinning a clean kapp on top of it.
Feeling the sting of guilt at her own vanity, she stared at herself carefully in her hand mirror. She pinched her cheeks and noted the red flush on her skin. She’d heard that fancy girls sometimes pinched their cheeks to give themselves a healthy blush. But Greta knew that most fancy women used make-up, brushing color right on their cheeks.
She had to admit that she looked less scared after pinching herself. But really, there was no way to hide the nervousness in her eyes. Disgusted with her antics, she placed the mirror back on her dresser. It was still warm out; she could feel the breeze through her open window.
So she wouldn’t need a shawl.
Creeping quietly out of her bedroom, she paused a minute to listen at her father’s door. She heard the rhythmic rumble of his snoring. With a smile, she tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door.
She had plenty of time to get to Edmund’s Pond before their agreed meeting time, but even so, she walked quickly. When she rounded the last bend of the road before the pond, she halted. A buggy was already there. She studied it, hoping it was Isaac’s. How embarrassing if someone else was meeting there, too.
But then, she saw him. He was down by the edge of the pond, skipping rocks across its surface. Her heart lifted, and she hurried to meet him.
“Isaac?” she said quietly, approaching him from the back.
He dropped the rock and turned. “Greta.”
His voice was husky, and she could see that his eyes were red. Had he been crying? She took a tentative step toward him.
He held out his hand to her. “Come.”
She blinked at his open palm. He’d surprised her, but she tried not to show it and put her hand in his.
“We’ll walk.” He gazed down at her. “Will that suit?”
She nodded.
He took her on the narrow trail around the pond. The grasses were somewhat tall, and every few steps a clingy weed caught at her skirt.
“It’s so nice this evening, I thought we should walk first. We can go for a drive afterward if you’d like.”
“That’s fine,” she murmured.
When they were a ways down the trail, and the growth was thicker, he stopped and faced her. His expression was solemn, and Greta’s heart immediately began pounding. For a moment, a heady feeling rushed through her and she felt dizzy. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
“We need to talk…” Isaac paused and licked his lips. “I thought we would settle this by letter, but since I’m here…” Again, he paused.
Settle this? That’s what he called it?
Greta pulled her hand from his and took a step back. A twig snapped beneath her shoe.
Isaac frowned. “Greta? What’s wrong?”
“Settle this…?” she asked, her voice low and tense.
He blanched. “What? Wait … I’m sorry. I not saying this well.”
“If that’s how you see it, Isaac, then I think it’s quite clear what we should do.” A rush of disappointment grabbed Greta’s heart. This was not how she’d prayed their meeting would go.
“Greta…” Isaac’s forehead creased, and his hands fidgeted at his sides.
“I can make this easy for you,” she said quietly. Her eyes welled with tears. The look of desperation on Isaac’s face sent pain shooting through her. She swallowed hard. “Let’s pretend the promise never happened.”
She backed away, her eyes searching his face. Then she turned, and with
a cry she began running back down the twisted path.
“Wait!” Isaac called after her. “Greta! Please!”
His voice was so full of anguish that she couldn’t help herself. She stopped running, and turned back to him.
He closed the distance between them quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathing hard. He reached down and took her hand in his. “I’m making a right mess of this.”
Greta’s lip quivered, and a tear ran down her cheek.
“This is hard, Greta. Hard.” He blew out his breath and looked at the sky before focusing back on her. “Please, let me finish. Please, don’t turn away.”
Her breathing turned jagged. She didn’t want to turn away from him. She didn’t. But neither did she want to become some obligated burden to him.
“I’ve been thinking a lot the last few weeks.” He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “At first, when Betty … well, when Betty made me promise, I felt sick about it. How could she make me do such a thing? I was in total agony and there she lay, expecting me to pledge my heart to someone else…”
He looked out over the pond, then back at her. “I was angry with her. And with Gott.” He hesitated, as if expecting a reaction, but when Greta remained silent, he went on. “It was a relief to leave for Ohio. In so many ways, a relief. But I don’t belong there. I’ve only continued to stay because of James.”
Greta uttered a soft sound, thinking of the precious boy.
“But now, coming back, even in such circumstances, I realize that this is where my life is. This is where I want to be.” He took a long shaky breath. “But Betty is no longer here… Greta, she’s gone.”
His voice broke, and he began to cry. Against everything she knew as proper, Greta pulled him into her arms.
“I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m so sorry.”
She held him as he wept. He was so tall and so strong, and he shook in her arms. Finally, after a long while, he pulled away and looked at her.
“During the last week or so, I began to understand what Betty was really doing for me and James when she made me promise.” He gulped and wiped his eyes. “She was making a new family for me. She knew that I probably wouldn’t do it without…” His eyes turned soft. “I’m loyal to a fault.”
“Loyalty is a fine quality, Isaac,” Greta murmured.
“Jah. But Betty knew…” He ran his hand over his beard. “She knew I would need a bit of a push.”
Isaac took her hand again. “I’ve always admired you, Greta. And truth be told, James and I wouldn’t have survived Betty’s illness without you.”
He stepped closer. Greta looked into his eyes and saw how difficult this was for him.
“I’ll never stop loving Betty.” He shook his head. “Ach, I’m awkward at this.” He pulled her hand to his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt.
“Greta, I want to honor Betty’s wishes. If you’re willing, that is.” He gave her a bittersweet smile. “I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll provide for you. We can have a gut life. Greta, I want to marry you … if you’re willing.”
Greta was trembling so hard inside, it was as if she were standing in sub-zero weather. Her throat had gone totally dry. She loved Isaac. Of that, she had no doubt. But he didn’t love her. He admired her…
Was that where it would have to begin?
Suddenly, she felt dizzy. She felt like she was going to vomit, right there in front of him.
“Greta?”
She swallowed hard. What was she to do? What was she to say? She loved him. Could she marry him if he didn’t love her back? A wave of nausea shook her.
“Greta! Are you all right?”
She bent over, ready to be sick. But it didn’t come. Tears flooded her eyes.
Isaac took both of her shoulders in his hands and drew her back upright. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?” Panic filled his voice.
“Nee,” she choked out. “I’m all right. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just so nervous.”
They were standing close, so close that Greta could feel his breath on her face.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and his lips burned through her skin.
“This probably isn’t how you dreamed it, is it? Betty told me once that every girl dreams of her proposal and wedding. She told me that every girl wants a fairy tale.”
Tears coursed down Greta’s cheeks. Was this her fairy tale?
“Greta, I’m sorry. This isn’t very romantic for you, is it?” He squeezed her shoulders. “But James loves you. And Greta … I…”
He couldn’t finish.
“But you don’t,” she finished for him.
His eyes were unwavering on hers. “Not yet.” His voice was so soft, she could barely hear him. And then, he spoke again. “But given time…”
Greta squeezed her eyes shut. This was so unfair to him. He’d just lost his wife. How could he possibly love another woman so soon? How could she expect him to?
No. If this was going to happen, she needed to make a decision. She could either marry him because she loved him, with the hope that someday, he would return her love.
Or she could turn him down.
It was as simple as that. And as complicated.
“Greta?”
She looked into his eyes. His dear intense red-rimmed eyes. Her gaze traveled over his face. Every ridge, every crease, every nuance. She reached up and caressed his cheek. Her heart was heavy with love for him. Every cell of her being wanted him. Yearned for him. She couldn’t live without him, and the realization rocked her.
And in that moment, her decision was easy…
“I will marry you, Isaac,” she said simply.
He grinned then, and for a split second, she saw the old Isaac. The happy Isaac.
“Thank you, Greta,” he whispered and brought her hand to his lips. He gently kissed her fingers. “Shall we take a drive in the buggy now?”
She nodded. “We have a lot to discuss.”
“That we do.” He surprised her by once again pressing her hand to his lips. His kiss was soft and tender, and a thrill went through her.
“James will be so happy to see you.” His voice was firmer now, more sure.
“I’ve missed the boppli. I can’t wait to see him.”
Isaac smiled at her, and they started back. When the path was too narrow to accommodate them walking side-by-side, he carefully led her, holding her hand as they walked through the weeds. When they reached his buggy, he held the door open for her and helped her inside.
She situated herself on the bench—where Betty used to sit.
Betty, she thought, it’s going to be all right. Thank you, dear, dear friend.
Isaac climbed in beside her and flicked the reins. With a gentle lurch, the buggy started down the road.
The End
Continue Reading…
Thank you for reading The Promise! If you haven’t yet read Greta’s Story #1: Replacement Wife, you can find it HERE! Enjoy!
Greta’s Story #3: The Wedding is Now Ready! Click HERE!
Here’s a sample to get you started:
Greta tried not to cry. She kept her face arranged in what she hoped was a pleasant expression.
“What do you think?” Isaac asked her, leaning forward in his rocking chair.
What did she think?
He wouldn’t want to know. How could he even suggest that they forego a traditional wedding? This might be his second wedding, but it wasn’t hers. She’d dreamed all her life of her wedding. A proper wedding. Right there in her own home with the bishop and ministers and hundreds of guests.
“Greta?” he questioned.
She swallowed and looked down at her hands. She fidgeted with a fold of her apron.
He waited.
Finally, she spoke. “So, you’re suggesting that we get married in town? Without the bishop? Without my family?” Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together.
He started rocking. Fast. His heavy black shoes pushed into the porch
floor. The hoot of an owl sounded from somewhere nearby. It was a hollow sound, echoing its loneliness. Right then, Greta wanted to join the owl. There she was, sitting with her fiancé, and she’d never felt so alone in all her life.
To even suggest such a thing, proved that Isaac didn’t know her at all.
“It seems more appropriate,” he muttered.
She glanced at him and saw his brow creased low on his forehead. The lantern didn’t shed enough light for her to see his eyes clearly. She knew he was nervous—that was evident by his almost frantic rocking. This conversation obviously wasn’t going as he expected.
“Appropriate?” she questioned.
He cleared his throat. “Me being such a recent widower and all,” he stumbled on. “This way, it would be simpler, less fuss.”
“Simpler?” she repeated stupidly. “Less fuss?”
Her mind had gone cold, and she found herself quite unable to think.
“Greta?”
She licked her lips. “What?”
“Don’t you think so? It seems to be a gut choice.”
She stared at him. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sit there and allow him to take their wedding, her wedding, and reduce it to standing in some Englisch establishment, making a promise to some Englisch judge. Had he gone mad? What would the people think? What would the bishop think?
She slowly stood and faced him.
“Nee,” she said, her body stiff with the effort. “Nee.”
His eyes widened, and he gulped. “But Greta—”
“Nee!” she said again, forcefully now. Biting back a sob, she ran into the house and up the stairs. She burst through the door of her room and threw herself on the bed.
When she’d promised Isaac’s dying wife that she’d marry Isaac upon Betty’s death, she had no idea what that would mean. She’d only wanted to comfort her dearest friend during the last hours of her life. But now that Greta actually loved Isaac, now that marrying him wasn’t just an obligation—at least, as far as she was concerned—she had opened herself to a vulnerability she’d never imagined.
Amish Romance: The Promise (Hollybrook Amish Romance: Greta's Story Book 2) Page 7
