Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  “We think this young lady needs a husband,” Amos insisted. “Her father died on the crossing and she is without family.”

  Jacob raised his eyebrows.

  “All right, all right,” Abraham admitted. “’Tis true. We worry about you, Jacob.” The old man shook his head. “You are not the man you once were.”

  “Then the last thing I need to do is take a new bride.”

  The two elders paused as they searched for a retort. Jacob sighed. “Who is this potential bride, anyway?”

  “Oh, she is living with the Widow Yoder. Greta is her name. A lovely girl.”

  “The Widow Yoder, you say?”

  “Ja.”

  “Just arrived?”

  “Ja.”

  “She didn’t bring a cow with her when she joined the settlement, by any chance?”

  “Oh, ja! We have heard that Rose has a habit of breaking through fences. Do mind your garden.”

  Of course. Jacob frowned. Of all the women who could have wandered into my life, it had to be one that I cannot get out of my mind. “I have had the, um, pleasure of making Greta’s acquaintance.”

  “Then you know what a charming girl she is!”

  “I am not sure ‘charming’ is the way I would describe our first encounter.” And yet, charming was exactly the way she had seemed as those big green eyes stared up at him with that adorable look of dismay. Jacob pushed the thought away and reminded himself that her cow had destroyed hours and hours of his work.

  Abraham waved his hand. “No matter. She is an ideal catch. Young and hardworking, with great strength of character.”

  Amos nodded. “You will find her charming in the days to come, I am sure.”

  “I do not have time to find any young ladies charming.” Jacob swept his hand across his farm. I have to repair the roof tomorrow and begin harvesting. Old Bess has gone lame. And after nine months I have not had time to dig a well; I am still hauling water from the creek. Visiting young ladies is not on the agenda.”

  Amos shrugged. “You should add fence repairs to that list. Greta’s cow has been in the Widow Yoder’s garden, I hear. You cannot expect her to fix it on her own.”

  “She needs your help,” Abraham said.

  Jacob looked away. His eyes followed the path that cut through his clearing and into the forest. He remembered Marta’s bare feet padding across the yard as the wind whipped her skirts. Jacob tried to recall the shape of her face, the soft expression she wore as she glanced back at him and smiled, but the details had faded. He felt a stab in his chest as he realized that his memories of her were weakening. Forgive me, Marta. I will never forget you. Never. And I will never open my heart to another woman. I owe you that. No one will ever replace you and no one will ever take this pain away.

  He shook his head. “I will take care of the fence because it is my duty to assist a sister in need. But there will be no friendship, no relationship, and certainly no marriage.”

  “Hmmmm.” Abraham ran his fingers through his beard. “It sounds as though she has made quite an impression on you, Jacob.”

  Jacob sighed, then chose his words carefully. “You could say that.”

  “One has to wonder why our suggestions have triggered such a strong reaction from you.”

  “I am not reacting strongly. All I want is to get this season’s work finished and go about my business.” And to guard my heart.

  Amos smiled. “My mistake, then.”

  “I am sure that she has not made any impression, whatsoever,” Abraham added.

  “None at all,” Jacob agreed, his face hard.

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  The men nodded and headed toward the path. Jacob stood on the front porch and frowned.

  “Oh, by the way, Jacob.” Amos turned around as he crossed the ruined kitchen garden. “I am surprised to see what a mess your garden has become. You always used to be so careful in your work.”

  Abraham frowned. “I hope that you are not struggling to keep up with your chores.”

  Amos nodded in agreement. “A good woman like Greta could certainly help with the workload. You cannot keep doing all of the chores that a wife should do. You will work yourself to death.”

  The men turned back around and shook their heads at the smashed vegetables.

  Jacob watched them leave with his mouth agape. He could not find the words to defend himself against such ludicrous accusations.

  Chapter Four

  Greta woke up early and dressed quickly. She pulled a stay over the loose linen shift that she slept in. The stay wrapped around her upper body to provide support and enforce good posture. Greta frowned as she laced up the stiff, fitted cloth. I want to hurry and get on my way. Putting on all of these layers takes too much time! After the stay was in place, Greta shrugged into her bodice and tightened the laces down the front. Then she stepped into a petticoat and pleated overskirt and fastened them around her waist. The sun began to rise as she pinned an apron across the front of her garment and secured a neck cloth over her shoulders and across her chest.

  Greta blew out the candle beside her pallet, walked to the hearth, and sat down on the three-legged stool to pull on her woolen hosen, tie them above her knee, and fasten her leather shoes. She splashed cold water from the wooden bucket onto her face, dumped the remainder of the water into the cauldron, and stoked the fire. The cauldron would hang above the flames all day so that there was always hot water on hand.

  Greta noticed that sunlight had replaced the cabin’s shadows. It is getting late. She pinned her long, thick hair into a bun and fastened a prayer kappe over the chestnut locks.

  “Oh, my. You are already up and about and here I am, still abed.” Ruth threw back the covers and rubbed her eyes.

  Greta glanced toward the elderly woman’s pallet. “I want to get an early start. Today is the day I have to face Jacob Miller. The earlier I begin, the earlier I finish.”

  Ruth laughed. “Fair enough.”

  Greta started for the door.

  “Do not forget to wear your scoop! The sun will be bright today, I wager.”

  Greta nodded and reached for her wide-brimmed straw hat. Two ribbons hung from opposite sides of the brim and she tied them beneath her chin as she raced out the door. The ribbons pulled the brim downward to form a distinctive shape that gave the hat its name.

  Greta arrived at Jacob’s doorstep as the sun crested the tree line. She set her mouth in a tight line. Let’s get this over with. The young woman swallowed, raised her chin, and knocked on the rough oak door.

  No answer. Greta forced herself to breathe evenly and ignore the excitement she felt at the thought of seeing the aloof stranger.

  She knocked again, louder this time.

  “Hello? Jacob?”

  Still no answer.

  She hesitated and then knocked a third time.

  “Enough racket, Greta. You don’t have to keep pounding on the door.”

  The deep voice came from above.

  “Oh!” The young woman’s eyes shot upward. Jacob’s face appeared over the eave of the roof. He held a wooden peg between his lips and a mallet in his right hand.

  “It has been raining into the cabin.” He motioned to a spot on the roof with his chin. “Just going to make a few repairs.”

  “What’s that? I can’t quite understand you.”

  Jacob pulled the peg from his mouth. He repeated himself with exaggerated enunciation.

  “Oh. Yes. I see.”

  “Well, don’t let me stop you, Greta. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

  Greta thought she caught a twinkle in his dark eyes as he spoke. Is he joking with me or is he making fun of me? Why can he not be more obvious with his intentions? She hesitated.

  Jacob frowned and set down the mallet. “Can I help you with something, Greta?”

  Oh no, I’ve been staring again. She cleared her throat and forced a neutral expression on her face. “Yes. Yes you can.”

&nbs
p; He sighed. “Well? What can I help you with?”

  “Oh. Right. Yes. I need help.” What is it about Jacob Miller that leaves me so flustered and tongue-tied? She steadied her voice. “I have not brought any tools. I thought that I could use yours.”

  He waved toward the yard. “Ja. I left them by the door.” He turned to his work and then glanced back at Greta when she did not walk away. She put her hands on her hips and gazed back at him. “I wonder, Jacob, shouldn’t you use nails to repair a roof? It must be quite time-consuming to whittle those little pegs. And I cannot imagine that the seal is nearly as tight.”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow. “And where would you suggest that I buy these nails, Greta? From the squirrels? Or the wolves, perhaps? There is nothing here but wilderness.”

  “Hmm. Right. Well, carry on.”

  Jacob looked down at the young woman with an astonished expression that morphed into a frown.

  “After you finish with my tools, put them back where you found them.”

  “Naturally.” Greta waited for Jacob to say more, but he turned his attention back to the peg in his hand. Why can’t he give me a few minutes of civil conversation? Am I really such a bother to him? She turned away as she felt heat rising into her cheeks. Of course I am—my Rose destroyed his garden. I’ve been nothing but a bother to him since the moment we met.

  Greta replayed their conversation over and over again as she replanted herbs. She told herself that it didn’t matter what Jacob Miller thought of her. She told herself that she was completely unmoved by the chiseled features and the strong arms that pulled her to her feet without effort. The teasing half smile reappeared in her mind. The dark, unreadable eyes that stared into hers . . . Regain your dignity, Greta! He barely takes the time to speak to you. And when he does speak to you, he maintains a careful distance. He clearly thinks that you are a bothersome young woman, unfit for the backcountry. She speared the earth hard, then stopped, put down the trowel, and smiled. Well, if that is what he thinks of me, I will just have to show him otherwise.

  Greta raised her chin with determination, picked up the satchel beside her, and strode toward the cabin. She rummaged through the packed food as she walked. Until she felt an unexpected crunch beneath the heel of her shoe. Greta froze. Her eyes moved from the satchel to the earth beneath her foot. Another cabbage lay crushed on the ground. She gasped and glanced up at the roof. Jacob was not in sight. She exhaled a sigh of relief, wiped the dirt and cabbage leaves off the bottom of her shoe, and continued toward the roof.

  “Jacob!”

  No answer.

  “Jacob!”

  The mallet stopped its sharp rhythm.

  “Jacob!”

  “Are you injured, Greta?”

  Greta frowned and stood on her tiptoes to get a better view of the roof. “No.”

  “Is there a fox threatening the chickens?”

  Greta cut her eyes to the hens. They pecked at the dirt in tight, rapid movements. “No.”

  “A wildfire?”

  “No.”

  “Then what can I help you with, Greta?”

  Greta tried to read the tone of his voice. She frowned and cleared her throat. A nice home-cooked meal will show him that I can manage just fine in the backcountry.

  “I have brought you refreshments, Jacob. We can share a late breakfast.”

  Greta thought she heard a sigh come from the rooftop.

  “What is that, Jacob?”

  “Do not weaken your resolve.” He whispered the words to himself so that Greta couldn’t hear. “Friendship is the first step toward something more. . . .”

  “Jacob, are you talking to me? I cannot make out what you are saying.”

  “I am not hungry, Greta.”

  Greta stared at the roof. His gruff response cut into her. She forced a cheerful smile and rummaged through her satchel until her fingers closed around a greasy white cloth. “I am sure you will be hungry later. Here. Have some squash.” She narrowed her eyes and flung the package into the air.

  Greta waited to hear the thump against the hand-hewn wooden shingles. But the noise did not come. Instead, after a few beats, she heard a quiet splat on the far side of the house.

  “You missed, Greta.”

  “Hmph.” Greta put her hands on her hips and stalked around the cabin.

  “If you are trying to impress the pigs, you have succeeded.”

  Greta heard a hint of amusement in Jacob’s deep voice. She rounded the corner and saw the white cloth in the middle of a mud puddle where two fat hogs fought over bits of fried squash. Their glistening, upturned noses whuffled and snorted as they lunged for the food.

  Greta turned on her heels and marched back to the kitchen garden. We will just pretend that never happened. But she could feel Jacob Miller’s eyes on her back the entire time.

  * * *

  The Fisher twins called on Greta the next evening. They announced that they had come to help with the evening chores, but Eliza knocked over the water bucket and Peter sloshed the corn cake batter into the fire. Greta just laughed. She didn’t care that their efforts hindered more than helped. “I would rather enjoy an adventure with you than work alone without incident,” she said as she tousled Peter’s unkempt hair.

  “Have you met your neighbor?” the boy asked as he set down a tin cup of milk. Greta wiped his mouth with her handkerchief. He wiggled to get away.

  “Jacob Miller?” She nodded in the direction of his farm.

  “Ja.”

  “I have.” Greta felt her cheeks flush at the memory. Why does he fluster me so very much?

  Eliza smiled and reached for Peter’s pewter cup of milk. “I like Jacob.” She swallowed twice and set the cup down with a bang. “I bet you do too.”

  Greta wiped a drop of milk that had splattered on the table and changed the subject. “Who are you living with now?”

  “With the Gruber family.”

  “Have the elders decided who you will stay with permanently?”

  Peter sucked on one of his fingers and shook his head.

  “The Gruber family is nice.” Eliza shrugged and set down the broom. “But they haven’t enough room for us.”

  Greta counted off the number of Gruber children in her head. “No, I should think not. It must be quite a squeeze.”

  Peter nodded, his finger still in his mouth.

  “We like Mrs. Gruber very much, but she really hasn’t any time for us.”

  “No, I am sure that she has her hands full.”

  Greta wished that she could take them in. She frowned. Children need a father. . . . Jacob’s face appeared in her mind. She frowned.

  Greta shook the image from her mind and smiled at Peter and Eliza. “You need to get on your way or you will miss your supper.” She pinched Peter’s red, chubby cheeks and he giggled. Then his face dropped into seriousness. “But what if there is a fox on the path?”

  “A fox? Why should that matter?”

  “Because foxes might eat me.”

  “Peter is afraid of foxes.” Eliza shook her head. “I keep telling him that he should be afraid of wolves instead, but he insists on being afraid of foxes.”

  “Oh well, perhaps it is best not to be afraid of either one.”

  Peter looked up at Greta with big eyes. “But foxes might eat me.”

  Greta smiled. “No, darling, foxes do not eat people. You are much too big for a fox to eat.”

  Peter popped his finger back in his mouth. “Mmm fhing fffxxss enn—”

  “Take your finger out of your mouth, dear. I cannot understand you.”

  Eliza reached over and pulled his hand down. “I think foxes eat little boys,” Peter repeated.

  “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “Because they have teeth.”

  “Ja. Hmmm. I suppose that is true. Animals with teeth can bite.”

  Peter nodded, his fears confirmed.

  Greta shook her head. “No, no. That is not what I meant. I just meant that .
. . Well, just think, even rabbits and chipmunks have teeth.”

  Peter’s eyes widened. “Rabbits and chipmunks will bite me?”

  “No. Of course not.” Greta sighed. “Never mind. Foxes do not eat little boys. They do not eat people.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  Peter frowned, still unconvinced.

  “Let’s go before it gets dark, Peter.” Eliza tugged on Peter’s sleeve. “You always think that you see foxes in the dark.”

  Peter reached for Greta’s hand. “Too late. Foxes are out now. Can you walk us to the Gruber farm?”

  Greta could not resist Peter’s sad brown eyes. “A walk would do me good. I have been in this cabin far too long.”

  Ruth raised an eyebrow. “You will spoil them.” But then she smiled and shrugged. “Ach, what can it hurt? The poor dears.”

  Greta and the twins sang nursery rhymes as they walked under a cloudless sky, a thousand stars glittering down from a cold, dark dome. Greta stopped when they reached the Grubers’ front gate. “Run along, now. It really is getting late and I must get back.”

  “You won’t come in?”

  “No, not tonight.”

  Greta watched Peter and Eliza skip to the front door. The oilcloth over the windows glowed a cozy yellow and Greta could sense the warmth inside. She imagined the roaring fire and the rich smell of roasted meat. The Gruber family would be sitting down to dinner with half a dozen children gathered around the table, the room full of chatter and laughter. Greta sighed and turned away. The cold cut more sharply than before and she raised the hood of her cloak. Will I ever have a family of my own? A husband who will sit with me at our safe, warm hearth as the wind howls outside? Children who pull at my skirts, reaching up to be held?

  Greta tried to push the thoughts from her mind as she trudged back to the Yoder cabin. But she knew that she headed back to a house that was not her home. The thought dug into her heart. I am grateful to have a roof over my head and a friend to share it with. But I cannot help but long for something more....

  Greta watched her breath form tiny white clouds in the cold air and then disappear. She folded her arms beneath her cloak. A wolf howled in the distance and Greta shivered. She pulled her cloak closer and quickened her pace. The path loomed like a dark tunnel ahead. The oak branches quivered and reached like hands. She tried to walk faster, but her feet stumbled over roots and loose stones. Here I am, wandering alone in the dark. Fear and disappointment tugged at her throat and blurred her thoughts.