Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  Where the Heart Takes You

  Virginia Wise

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Virginia Wise

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4779-7

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4782-7 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4782-X (eBook)

  To my husband because,

  as with all great romances,

  we were meant to be together from the beginning

  Chapter One

  Pennsylvania Backcountry, 1737

  Greta Scholtz wandered past the stumps of freshly cut hemlocks. She raised the blade of her hand to her forehead and squinted into the sun. The old milk cow could be anywhere. Greta felt just as lost in the strange, new land. She frowned, hitched up her skirts, and slogged through the muddy clearing.

  “Rose!” Greta cut her eyes toward the forest. “Rose, where are you!?” She hoped that the cow had not wandered beneath those dark, towering pines. Backcountry settlers fenced in their crops and let their livestock roam free to forage and fend for themselves. Cows and hogs grew fat and happy on the bounty of the forest—unless they met a hungry predator.

  The otherworldly howls of a wolf pack had woken Greta during the night and she could not rest until she knew that Rose had escaped their hunger. The young woman scanned the shadowed underbrush that lay beyond the clearing and imagined the quiet, stealthy beasts that roamed the foothills of the Blue Mountain. Here, at the far edge of the colonies, the New World teemed with bears, mountain lions, and bobcats.

  A soft bell rang. Greta whipped her head toward the sound and grinned. “Rose!” She marched to the other side of the clearing, then hesitated before plunging into the old growth forest that separated her from the other settlers. How can I overcome all of the dangers of the backcountry? If only Father were here. But Father was not there. And I will never see him again. He risked everything to bring them to a land where they were free to worship as Amish, but he never laid eyes on the green hills of Pennsylvania.

  Memories of the voyage pushed into Greta’s mind. The small group of Anabaptists felt so full of hope when they boarded the Charming Nancy. After decades of persecution in Europe, Greta’s people knew they would be safe in Pennsylvania. “William Penn made a place where everyone is free to worship as they see fit,” Greta’s father, Johannes, had explained. She remembered his smile as they plodded up the ship’s gangplank with everything they owned stuffed into one small chest.

  But Johannes Scholtz had not survived the voyage to see the Promised Land. He was not alone. One in nine passengers died on the voyage. Overcrowding, disease, and deprivation spelled disaster for the old and young. After they sailed, Greta heard rumors that profit-hungry trading companies preyed on German immigrants by crowding them into the hold like herrings. Others claimed that dishonest middlemen pocketed money meant to buy food for the voyage, condemning passengers to weeks of malnourishment.

  Greta trudged toward the wayward cow. With her father gone, there was no man of the house to stand between her and backcountry predators. I will learn to shoot a musket myself. The other families in the tight-knit community would be happy to help her, but Greta wanted to show the settlement that she could handle the challenges of her new life.

  And yet, here she was, chasing after Rose again. “I have to stop fearing the wolves.” There was no one to hear her words but a deer that paused beneath a gnarled hemlock. The animal froze and stared at Greta with soft brown eyes. Greta cupped her hands around her mouth. “Rose! Come back!” The deer flinched, leapt across a rotten log, and disappeared into the forest.

  No wonder the elders are pressuring me to marry. How can I possibly manage on my own? I do not want to be a burden on the community. But how can I settle for a loveless marriage with a stranger who takes me in out of charity? She sighed and pushed a stray lock of chestnut-colored hair under her prayer kappe. And who do they expect me to marry, anyway? A widower twice my age? There are not many eligible bachelors out here, in the middle of nowhere.

  Greta emerged into a clearing and spotted her cow in the middle of the neighbor’s kitchen garden, surrounded by crushed vegetables. A section of the fence that protected the crops lay broken on the ground. “Rose! No!” The cow raised her head, stepped forward, and flattened a head of cabbage with her hoof. Greta clenched her eyes shut and pressed a palm to her forehead. “Oh, Rose! What have you done this time?” She rushed through the front yard and grabbed the cowbell around Rose’s neck. “Come on, Rose. Out of the garden! Please!” She glanced toward the cabin door. Greta had just arrived in the Anabaptist settlement, and this was not the way she wanted to make a first impression on her new neighbor. Rose chewed her cud and watched Greta with a dull expression. Greta pulled harder. The cow stood stock-still, then bellowed and took another step forward without warning. Greta lost her balance, fell backward, and landed hard in the mud. She groaned and wiped a splatter of dirty water off her face. At least no one saw that!

  “I’ve seen pigs wallow in the mud before, but never a young lady.” The deep, masculine voice startled Greta and she flung her head around.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man stood over her. Dark eyes locked onto hers and Greta felt her stomach leap. She stumbled over her thoughts, unable to respond to his words. “Oh! I . . .” Her gaze moved from the man’s eyes to his strong jaw, hardened features, and muscular build. Greta felt her face turn red and she looked down. “I . . . I . . . it is just that . . .” Greta shook her head and wiped her muddy hands on her white apron. The stranger leaned forward, close enough for Greta to catch the twinkle of amusement in his brown eyes. She cleared her throat. “Rose, she . . .” The man took Greta’s hands and pulled her to her feet without any effort. His tall frame blocked the sun and she stood in h
is shadow, still unsure how to respond. She adjusted her prayer kappe and straightened her neck cloth, which modestly covered her shoulders and chest.

  “Well?”

  Greta frowned.

  “Well?” the man repeated, and raised his eyebrows. Greta couldn’t tell if the expression showed playfulness or irritation.

  “My cow. She broke in.”

  “Ja, I can see that.” The man offered a small half smile. “What do you plan to do about it?”

  Greta hoped the smile was meant to make her feel more comfortable. No, he must be making fun of me. I must look ridiculous with my muddy dress and trespassing cow! “I . . . I will take care of all of this.” Greta bit her lip. “I promise. I am sorry—”

  The man nodded and glanced at the sky. “The day is almost over. And there will be no work tomorrow.”

  “I will come back after the Sabbath.” Greta stared into the man’s eyes, trying to decipher his emotions. “First thing.”

  “That will be much appreciated.” The man tipped his hat and turned away.

  Greta let out a breath of air as the tension in her shoulders relaxed. The man’s gaze had felt so intense as he studied her. She wished she knew what he had been thinking. Most likely, he is exasperated with Rose and me and is struggling to be polite. I must try harder to fit in here.

  Greta tugged on Rose’s collar. “Let’s go.” The cow did not move. Instead the animal lowered her head and bit into a tarragon leaf. Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more embarrassed! “Rose, come on!”

  The man turned back around and raised an eyebrow. He strode over to Rose and grabbed her collar. The cow raised her head and stared at him. “Time to go, ja?” The animal lumbered forward. Greta’s cheeks burned as she marched after Rose and the stranger.

  “I don’t understand . . . Rose usually—”

  “Ja,” the man cut her off, and shrugged. “I will see you first thing day after tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Jacob Miller frowned as he watched Greta Scholtz lead her cow into the forest. The memory of her steady gaze burned inside his mind. He had fallen into those lively green eyes and could not find his way out again. What was it about her that drew him in and would not let him go? It must be the outrageous way that we met. She looked so ridiculous, sprawled on the ground with that adorable expression of shock on her face. Jacob winced. He didn’t want to find her—or any woman—adorable. His heart was still too raw. He shook his head and tried to force his attention back to his work. But his gaze lingered on the young woman as she strode across the clearing.

  She must have felt humiliated, but she kept her head held high and promised to fix the problem instead of shying away. Though young and unprepared, she seemed eager to overcome the challenges of the backcountry. A familiar sense of loss flooded him. I remember another woman like that. He cut off the train of thought before the memories overtook him.

  Remember, the Lord taketh away. . . .

  Jacob knew that there was more to that verse. But after months of grief, he struggled to believe that the Lord giveth. Life in the backcountry felt like it was all take, and no give. Less than a year had passed since he had buried Marta with his own hands. He remembered shoveling cold earth over the grave and promising never to open his heart again. Jacob pushed aside the unwelcome warmth that Greta Scholtz forced upon him.

  He needed to finish splitting a log before sundown. What is the matter with you? Focus on your work. But thoughts of Greta pushed into his mind as he struck his ax into the wood. He remembered the delightful sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He remembered how she tried to look dignified as she lay sprawled in the mud. And he remembered the endearing quiver in her voice as she fought to overcome her embarrassment. Yes, that Greta Scholtz knew how to make quite an impression.

  Jacob shook his head and let his smile drop back into a frown. He set down the ax and wedged a fat wooden peg into the crack he had hacked into the log. He wiped his hands on his knee breeches and picked up a massive wooden mallet. His face hardened as he raised the heavy mallet far above his head and swung it down against the peg. The force of the blow ricocheted into his shoulder and jaw. After enough blows the peg would force the wood apart. Then he would have to repeat the process again and again, down the entire length of the log.

  Jacob sighed and swung the mallet down again. Be practical. Prepare for winter. And, whatever happens, don’t fool yourself into thinking that a captivating young lady can make things right again.

  * * *

  Greta felt completely and utterly humiliated. The cowbell clanged as Rose followed behind her and the constant noise made her feel even more vulnerable and exposed. Even though she walked alone through the forest, Greta imagined everyone in the settlement hearing the bell, looking up, and laughing at her. She told herself that she was overreacting, but all she could think about was that man, standing over her with that hard, humorless expression.

  Why did he stare at me like that? What was he thinking? She pressed her hands over her face and squeezed her eyes shut. He was thinking about what a ridiculous woman I am! How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly! Closing her eyes made everything worse because his image blazed inside her mind. His chiseled features . . . the way his hands closed around hers and lifted her without effort . . . his dark, mesmerizing eyes. Greta opened her eyes. The fact that she could not stop thinking about him made her as confused as his attitude did. Whatever is wrong with me? Greta felt her forehead. Mayhap I am coming down with a fever. I must be delusional. Why else would that man make such an impression on me?

  She heard a shout and looked up. The six-year-old Fisher twins ran along the footpath that wound through the settlement. The woolen hosen on Peter’s legs sagged, showing a sliver of bare calf beneath his knee breeches.

  “Peter, pull up your hosen before you catch cold!”

  Peter grinned and waved, then darted past without straightening his stockings. Greta shook her head, but smiled. Peter and Eliza’s parents took sick and died on the Charming Nancy during the crossing. She remembered how she held the twins close and shared their grief as they endured endless days together in the dark hold of the ship. If only I could take them in. They are alone in this harsh new world just like me.

  Greta sighed and gave Rose’s rump a gentle slap. “Go on now. But watch out for the wolves, ja?” If I had a husband, the elders would let us adopt Peter and Eliza. She felt a stab of longing, then forced the emotion away. I will not fall for the first man I meet in the New World. And I certainly will not fall for that man, no matter how much the elders think I need a husband. He could never be interested in me after today.

  The thought of that tall, broad-shouldered man with the amused half smile reignited Greta’s embarrassment. She slunk across the clearing and flung open the door of a small log cabin. I hope I never see him again. Except, that would mean never staring into those dark eyes again.... Greta cut off the thought.

  “My goodness, Greta.” Ruth Yoder looked up from her mending with a startled expression. “Whatever has come over you?”

  Greta sighed. “I’m sorry, Ruth. I’ve only been here a few days and I’m already disturbing your quiet evenings.” Greta had felt like a disruption ever since she came to live in the small cabin. After the Charming Nancy arrived in Philadelphia, Greta and her fellow Amish made their way to the base of the Blue Mountain, at the very edge of the Pennsylvania frontier. The land had just opened for European settlement the year before and the new group joined a handful of Amish families who had already cleared land and put down roots in the wilderness.

  The new settlers scrambled to house everyone and Greta felt fortunate that the group found her a cozy home with an elderly widow—although the elders made it clear that the arrangement was temporary. They insisted that the backcountry was no place for a single young woman and an old widow.

  Ruth patted the bench beside her. “You are not disrupting, dear. I cannot tell you how lonely I’ve been since
my husband died.”

  Greta sighed and slumped onto the rough, backless bench. No roads had been cut through the backcountry yet, so settlers had to leave their wagons—and furniture—behind. The benches, and almost everything else inside the cramped cabin, had been handmade from whatever materials could be found in the Pennsylvania wilderness.

  Greta wiped her brow with the corner of her apron. “It is not an easy life here.”

  Ruth let out a long, deep breath. “No, it is not.” She looked down. “I thought that, after so many years of hiding our faith, my husband and I would live out our old age in peace. But it was not der Herr’s will.”

  “And I thought my father would live out his years here too, free and happy.”

  A smile broke across Ruth’s wrinkled face. “But I am grateful that you have come to me. It is wonderful that more Amish are finding their way to our little outpost.”

  “To think that this was all forest just a few months ago,” Greta said.

  “Ja. One year ago, when my husband and I arrived here, there was naught but trees and wolves.”

  “We will make a new life here. I know we will.”

  “Ja. You are so young, Greta. You have your whole life ahead of you. I can only imagine what der Herr has planned for you here, in the New World.”

  Greta looked away. How can I manage without Father? I feel so alone in this strange, wild land.

  “What is troubling you, child?”

  “I’m afraid that I have not gotten off to a very good start here.”

  “Oh?” Ruth raised an eyebrow. “What happened today? You certainly came into the house like a storm.”

  “I heard the wolves and went looking for Rose.”

  “Is she safe?”

  “Ja.”

  “No harm done, then.”