Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  “Well, not exactly.” Greta sighed. “Rose got into the neighbor’s kitchen garden.”

  “Oh dear. Which neighbor? Not Jacob Miller, I hope.”

  “If Jacob Miller lives beyond that stretch of forest.” She motioned in the direction of his farm.

  Ruth suppressed a smile. “He is a handful, that one.”

  “Well, that is one way to put it.” Greta put her face in her hands. “I can never see him again. I just can’t face him after . . .”

  “After what? It can’t be that bad . . . can it?”

  “Oh, Ruth! I fell in the mud and there he was standing over me with this expression of . . . of . . . complete disapproval! It was the most embarrassing moment of my life!” Greta thought she caught a gleam in the old woman’s eye.

  “Most women would be eager to see such a handsome man again. Hmmm?”

  Greta scowled. She hoped that Ruth did not think she felt an attraction to Jacob Miller. That would be preposterous after he caught her in such an embarrassing situation. Absolutely preposterous. Greta cleared her throat. “If he’s handsome then I certainly did not notice.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Ruth shrugged and turned her attention back to her mending. “Of course, dear.”

  Chapter Two

  Greta and Ruth hurried to the Riehls’ farm for the Sunday worship service. The countryside still swarmed with wildlife, but axes rang out every day as the settlers cleared the endless forest to make room for homes and crops. Greta’s eyes lingered on the stumps that surrounded a stout log cabin. Soon we will have a proper town, just like we had back home. Her heart filled with pride at the progress made since she and the other Charming Nancy passengers arrived just a few days earlier.

  Greta paused when they reached the crowd gathered in the next clearing. A handful of men in their best dress jackets and knee breeches chatted in the gentle autumn sun. Children laughed and chased one another. Homespun skirts swirled in a gray and white collage. Greta watched the simple, friendly scene and felt the warmth catch inside her chest. This is why I came to America.

  A girl and a boy shouted and crashed into her with an enthusiastic hug.

  “Greta!”

  Peter tugged at Greta’s skirts with sticky hands. “We’ve missed you!”

  Greta wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “And I have missed you!”

  “You were always with us on the journey,” Eliza added. “I wish it could be like that again.”

  Greta nodded her head. “Ja. But now you live in a cabin with a family. That is good too.”

  The twins shrugged. “Ja. But they cannot keep us forever. It is only temporary.”

  Greta’s forehead creased. Just like me. Without family, praying for a home of my own. She forced a brave smile and tousled Peter’s hair. “Don’t worry. Der Herr has a plan for you.” And for me. I just don’t know what it is yet.

  She took each child by the hand and they walked toward the gathering together.

  “I don’t think we could have crammed everyone into the Riehl cabin today,” Ruth said as they strolled side by side. “It is fortunate that the weather is mild.”

  “Ja. Someday the menfolk will have to build us proper houses, large enough for services.”

  Ruth scanned a cluster of young couples. “And large enough for growing families.”

  Greta looked down. At twenty-four, she was on the verge of becoming an old maid. She had waited to marry so that she could work to help her father save enough money to come to the New World. Greta frowned as she remembered the years of sacrifice that ended in her father’s death, rather than the fulfillment of his dreams. Is there still a purpose for me here in Pennsylvania without Father?

  “Enough daydreaming,” Ruth said. “Let’s find a seat.” Ruth motioned toward the backless benches that the men unloaded from a cart, dragged into the front yard, and then arranged into two different sections, one for the men and one for the women. Greta noticed one of the men as he pushed the last bench into place. His back was turned, but she recognized something familiar about his broad shoulders and large, work-hardened hands. She frowned as the man turned around.

  Jacob Miller’s dark eyes met hers and he nodded without smiling. Greta gasped and shifted her gaze. It looks like I was staring at him! She felt her cheeks flush red as she stalked away. Well, I was staring. But not for the reason that he thinks. Greta clenched her jaw and settled onto a bench between Ruth and Eliza in the women’s section. As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough already. I must put all thoughts of Jacob Miller out of my mind. This is most unbecoming!

  Greta refused to let her gaze wander to the men’s side again. Instead, she opened the Ausbund, an old hymnal of Anabaptist German songs her people sang during every service. Greta’s copy of the book had been passed down through the Scholtz family for years and the thin, brittle pages reminded her that she wasn’t alone, even in the backcountry. She felt connected to her Anabaptist ancestors and to the families who worked beside her to carve out a living from the wilderness. She felt a familiar warmth as the congregation lifted their voices in song. The rich, a cappella melody drifted above the trees and into the crisp blue sky above.

  Ruth looked at Greta and smiled. The old woman squeezed her hand and then closed her eyes. Greta knew that she was meant to be here, in a strange, new land. And yet, she still felt troubled deep inside. I am so blessed to be here, alive and free. But I feel such a sense of loss without my father. And this land is so foreign and harsh. I miss the villages of southern Germany, the bustling, cobblestone streets, bakeries, and windmills. I feel so alone, starting over on my own. And even worse, I am a burden on the community. If only I could shoot my own game and plant my own fields!

  The three-hour service wound to a close after a sermon about the Israelites’ journey through the wilderness and another a cappella song. The men rearranged the benches to create a makeshift table and the women heaped dishes onto the rough planks.

  “I think I know what is in every pot on that table,” Ruth whispered.

  “Pumpkin mush and pumpkin broth. Same as we brought.” Greta sighed. “I hear the men are going to build a bake-oven for the settlement this week. Soon we will have bread again. And maybe even cake, if we can get some cane sugar.”

  “Sugar.” Ruth shook her head. “That would be a fine treat.”

  “Oh, look!” Greta pointed to a platter. “A turkey!”

  “Ah, yes, I hear we can thank Jacob Miller for putting meat on the table today.”

  “I’ve never had a turkey before, Ruth! And it has been ages since I have had any meat.” She breathed in the rich aroma of golden, greasy skin and felt her stomach rumble. I should thank Jacob for the wonderful good meal. But then she remembered the aloof look in his eyes as she lay stunned in the mud of his kitchen garden. Better to avoid reliving that humiliation. I am probably the last person that he wants to speak to today.

  Greta inhaled the food as soon as she piled it on her wooden trencher. She only stopped chewing to smile politely at her neighbors and ask how they were managing. Most of them had journeyed together on the Charming Nancy and she felt a strong connection to the small group—and a fierce commitment to finish what they had started.

  Ruth stepped aside to refill her plate and Abraham Riehl and Amos Knepp slid in to take her place beside Greta. Along with Jacob and Ruth, the two elderly men and their wives, Berta and Emma, had lived in the settlement the longest and had naturally fallen into a position of church leadership until the settlement could choose a bishop by lots.

  “Greta. Der Herr’s blessings on this fine day.”

  “Indeed, Abraham. We are blessed today. It was a great joy to attend my first service in the New World.”

  The silver-haired man smiled. “It is a day that our ancestors could not have dreamed would ever come to pass.”

  Amos cleared his throat. “Greta, how are you faring?”

  “I am fine. Ruth Yoder is very hospitable.”
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br />   “Ja. It is not good for a woman to live alone.”

  “This is a challenging land,” Greta agreed. “And Ruth must have been very lonely since her husband died.”

  The two men glanced at each other. “We are glad that you have found a nice home,” Amos said. “But, how long can the arrangement last? Two women alone in the wilderness? There are so many things that you simply cannot do on your own.”

  “We will make sure that you have the help you need,” Abraham said. “But—”

  “Good. Ruth and I will manage quite well, then.”

  “Ja.” Abraham adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. “But, Greta, you cannot mean to stay on your own.”

  Greta looked down.

  “You must be realistic. Besides, there are widowers in the community in need of a wife. You could find a good match that would benefit both parties.”

  Greta felt her stomach drop. Abraham made marriage sound like a business arrangement. She knew that many people married for practical reasons, but she did not want to be one of them. She longed for something more. “I had not considered getting married so soon.”

  “It is time to think about such things,” Amos said. “Winter is coming and scratching a living out of the wilderness will only become more difficult.”

  I know that, as Amish, we must put others before ourselves; the good of the group before our own desires. But marriage . . . ?

  “There are good men in need of a helpmeet,” Abraham said.

  Greta glanced around at the single men. She only saw a handful of elderly men and a few teenage boys. And Jacob Miller. She narrowed her eyes. “Who do you have in mind?”

  Amos pulled at his beard. “Oh well. I am sure that I could not say.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “But Jacob is a fine man. Recently widowed. I imagine that you two could be good partners.”

  Greta balked. They are trying to set me up with Jacob Miller? I am quite sure he is not interested in me.

  “Oh. No. I don’t think . . . No. No, thank you.” She cut her eyes toward the handsome stranger. His tall frame and broad shoulders filled out his black waistcoat and dress jacket. The rim of his black beaver-felt hat sloped forward and hid his dark, brooding eyes.

  “You must be practical, Greta,” Abraham scolded. “We are not in Germany anymore. The backcountry is no place for a woman alone.”

  “I am not alone. I have Ruth Yoder.”

  “She cannot plant your crops or hunt game for you, Greta. You must think this through. You are an extra mouth for our community to feed. We only meant for you to live at the Widow Yoder’s house temporarily.”

  “Ja. I understand.” Greta averted her gaze, embarrassed that she might be putting herself before the community. “I do not want to burden anyone.”

  “No.” Abraham patted her shoulder with grandfatherly reassurance. “Think about what we have said. Jacob is a good man.”

  Greta remembered the way Jacob had stared down at her with that unreadable expression after she fell into the mud. His eyes were so intense.... Surely that look was one of disapproval. Greta refused to begin her new life by throwing herself at a man who would surely reject her. She opened her mouth to comment and then closed it again. It was too much to explain. “Ja. I will think about what you have said.”

  “Good!” the men chimed in unison.

  * * *

  Greta kept her attention on Jacob Miller as the brethren sifted away from the Sunday gathering. Is he in on this? Does he know that the church elders are trying to put us together? Then a thought hit her like a slap. Maybe he is not as disapproving as I assumed. Maybe he put them up to it. Greta felt a strange flutter in her stomach at the thought. She could not understand what caused the sudden rush of emotion. Indigestion, she insisted to herself, and raised her chin. It must be indigestion.

  But when Jacob strode away from the gathering without saying a word to her, Greta felt disappointed. No, she told herself. This is not disappointment. This is frustration. I am just frustrated that I haven’t made the impression I wanted. Greta shook her head. He is avoiding me—and no wonder. The last time he saw me I was sprawled in the mud like a hog. That is no way to make a good impression.

  Then again, why on earth would the church elders try to put us together if Jacob Miller did not approve . . . ?

  Greta frowned as she watched Jacob saunter down the dirt path. She studied his casual gait and relaxed manner, the self-assured way he held his shoulders. I wish I knew what that man was thinking.

  “Well, Greta. Do tell me what you are staring at.” Ruth sidled up to her young friend with a devilish half smile on her lips. Greta jumped. “I . . . I . . . nothing. I am not staring at anything. I mean, not anything worth mentioning . . . I mean . . .”

  Ruth chuckled. “We both know what you were staring at, dear. Or should I say who you were staring at.”

  “Oh. Oh no.” Greta blushed and looked miserable. “How terribly forward of me. Please, tell me that no one else noticed. I didn’t mean to stare . . . it is just that . . .” Greta adjusted her prayer kappe.

  “Just what, dear?”

  “It is just that Abraham and Amos think that I should marry Jacob Miller!”

  Ruth shrugged. “It makes sense. You both need a spouse.” She glanced at Greta with a sly, sidelong look. “And you obviously have feelings for him.”

  “Feelings!? Feelings?!”

  “Yes, dear. Feelings.”

  Greta shook her head. “Feelings of embarrassment, you mean!”

  Ruth raised an eyebrow. “Embarrassment? Not exactly.”

  Greta opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She took a deep breath. Ruth was still smiling when Greta opened her eyes. Greta counted to ten again. “I do not have any feelings beyond embarrassment when it comes to Jacob Miller!” She glared at his back until he disappeared around a bend at the end of the path. “We’ve only spoken once, and he stared at me as if he could not believe I could be so incompetent. I could never marry a man who thinks so little of me.”

  “Of course, dear. Whatever you say, dear.”

  Greta held her head high and stomped away.

  Ruth caught up to her. “Do you know what my favorite Shakespeare line is, Greta?”

  Greta gritted her teeth. “No. I can’t imagine.”

  Ruth grinned. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks. ’”

  Chapter Three

  Abraham and Amos stood in Jacob’s front yard when he arrived home from the service. Jacob shot the men a quizzical look.

  “You got here mighty fast. You must have taken the shortcut through the Widow Yoder’s farm.”

  The elderly men glanced at each other and shrugged. “Ja, well, we do have something to discuss with you, Jacob.”

  “But you left the service so quickly that we did not get a chance to speak to you after lunch.”

  “Ja. It was almost as if you were avoiding someone.”

  Jacob frowned. “Avoiding someone? Me? No. Just looking forward to a quiet afternoon of rest.”

  Abraham smiled. “Indeed.”

  “Ja,” Amos added. “You work harder than any other man in the settlement. I am sure that Sundays are a welcome relief.”

  “Ja. They are most welcome.” Jacob waited for the men to explain their hasty visit, but they only nodded and grinned. He sighed. “You mentioned that you wanted to discuss something with me?”

  The elders glanced at each other. Neither seemed eager to be the first to speak.

  “Well?” Jacob frowned.

  “Well, Jacob, we know that these months have not been easy on you.”

  “No, they have not.” Jacob’s jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was sympathy. “But I am not the only person who has lost loved ones this year. Or struggled to make a living in the backcountry.”

  Amos cleared his throat. “True. But you seem to struggle more than others to reconcile your fate with der Herr’s will.”

  J
acob clenched his jaw harder. His mouth tightened into a hard line. “I have not failed in my duties to the community. I have helped build and clear land. I will be ready to share from my crops this winter if any of our brothers or sisters runs short before spring.”

  “Ja.” Amos nodded. “We know that your work ethic is without fault. We know your commitment to our community.”

  Abraham put up a hand. “But it is not your work ethic that we are concerned about.”

  “It is your heart, Jacob.” Amos tapped his own chest. “Your heart.”

  “Thank you for your concern,” Jacob retorted. “But I am fine. My heart is fine.”

  “We find you much changed this past year,” Abraham cut in.

  “We know that you have always been serious-minded.” Amos shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But you do not fellowship with the brethren as you once did. You seem to struggle to trust again.”

  Abraham furrowed his brow and nodded. “Ever since Marta and the baby died—”

  “I am fine.” Jacob shook his head. “There is no need to talk of these things. I am not a burden to anyone. I have no conflict with anyone. This conversation is unnecessary.”

  Amos frowned and stroked his beard.

  Abraham put up a finger. “Then let us add a pleasant topic to our conversation.”

  They are not going to drop it. But I don’t need anyone’s help. Jacob ignored the doubt he felt in the pit of his stomach. I am doing fine on my own.

  “We have noticed a lovely young lady, newly arrived on the Charming Nancy.”

  Jacob felt his chest tighten. He knew where this was going.

  “There is no need to press the subject. As I have said, I am doing just fine on my own.”

  “I am sure you are, Jacob.” Amos held up his hands, palms up. “But this young lady—I do not believe that you have met—she is certainly in need of a partner. What a blessing it would be for her to find a good man in this hostile country! She and the Widow Yoder will be alone all winter, and you must admit that is a most unsatisfactory arrangement.”

  Jacob sighed. “Let us be honest, brothers. You are trying to push a new bride on me because you think that I am bitter and lonely.”