Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  A scuffling sound pulled Greta’s thoughts back to the path. She gasped and stared into the brush beside the dirt lane. Branches snapped. “Who is there?” No answer. She knew that bears and mountain lions roamed these wild hills. Another wolf howl rose toward the moon and melted into the dark sky. She hesitated and searched the shadows. Another branch snapped. Greta broke into a run. Her breath caught in her throat. Thoughts of teeth and claws and nameless night creatures flashed in her mind. She glanced back and strained to see a shape in the moonlight. Her feet kept running ahead, even though she could not see where she was headed.

  Greta’s body slammed into something. Something large and warm that grunted when she hit it. She shouted in surprise as a hand grabbed her arm and steadied her from the force of the impact.

  “Easy now, I have you.”

  “Oh!”

  “Calm down, now.”

  “Oh! It’s you!”

  “Ja. It’s me.” Jacob’s tall frame blocked the path. He looked down at her with an amused expression.

  “I was running.”

  “Ja. I noticed. You should look in the direction that you are running next time.”

  “Ja. But, there was . . . never mind.” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “There was what?”

  Greta raised her chin. “Nothing.”

  A branch snapped behind her and the bushes shook again. She jumped and grabbed Jacob’s arm. “There! That’s it. Something there, in the bushes!” She edged closer to him and lowered her voice. “A bear. I think it is a bear, ja?”

  Jacob raised his eyebrows and pointed to the base of the bush. A possum waddled onto the path, sized them up with beady eyes, then shuffled to the other side and disappeared into the woods. “There’s your bear, Greta.”

  “Oh.” Greta pulled away from him and straightened her prayer kappe. She cleared her throat. “Mmmm. Well. A possum. That was my next guess, of course.”

  “Of course.” Jacob looked down at her with a wry half smile. “Are you all right? That was quite a thumping you took when you ran into me.”

  “Me? I am fine. Just fine.” Greta brushed off her sleeves and smoothed her skirt. “You know, I would not have bumped into you if you had not been in the way. What are you doing out on the trail after dark, anyway?”

  “I was after my supper.”

  Greta noticed the musket in his left hand. “Any luck?”

  Jacob shrugged. “No. It got dark on me, so I guess I am in for another night of pumpkin stew.”

  “Ja. Well. Good night, then.”

  Jacob hesitated. He stared down at her. She could see the intensity of his gaze in the moonlight that reflected off his eyes.

  Do not let yourself fall into those deep, mysterious eyes, Greta Scholtz! Maintain your dignity. You have embarrassed yourself quite enough already.

  “I can walk you home.”

  Greta hesitated, surprised.

  He gave his lazy half grin. “That is to say, you seem pretty spooked.”

  Greta flinched. First he finds me in the mud, and now I cannot stroll down the path without fear! “Spooked? No. I am fine.” She raised her chin and turned away.

  “You did not seem fine a minute ago.” His eyes twinkled. “When that bear—I mean that possum—showed up you seemed awful scared.”

  Greta whipped back around. “Jacob Miller, are you making fun of me?”

  “Making fun? Why on earth would I want to make fun of you, Greta? You only ran away from an animal the size of my shoe. What’s to make fun of in that?”

  “That is quite enough from you. I will see myself home, thank you very much.”

  “Are you sure? What if you run into a squirrel? Or a chipmunk? How will you manage?”

  “How will I manage?” Greta did not know if she should laugh. “Quite well, I imagine.” Her tone had been too forceful. She felt hot and awkward. “Ach, you are joking. I didn’t mean . . .”

  “I never joke.”

  Greta stared at him for a few beats, then smiled. “You should not lie, Jacob Miller.”

  “I never lie, either.”

  “Oh.”

  Then he rewarded her with a nonchalant smile. Her smile widened into a shy grin. Jacob’s expression dropped back to seriousness as he gazed at her awkwardly for a moment. He cleared his throat. “The night grows late. Let me walk you home, to ensure your safety.”

  Greta felt a catch in her chest. She looked down, then back up at his face. He stood so tall that she had to crane her head back to see into his eyes. A cloud passed over the moon and his face fell into shadow. Greta wondered what he was thinking. She realized that she wanted his company, if only for the short time it would take for them to reach the Yoder cabin. But she knew that small indulgence would only make his rejection more painful, if he did not feel the same way about her. And how could he? Every time we meet I seem more trifling and incompetent. “No, I cannot trouble you. I am sure that you must rise early on the morrow.”

  “Ja. That I do.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “It is no trouble to see you safely home, Greta.” He placed a warm, steady hand on the small of her back. “In fact, I insist. After all, there are dangerous possums afoot tonight.”

  Greta laughed. She could smell the masculine scent of woodsmoke and pine on his coat as he steered her toward the Yoder cabin. She could not think of what to say and they walked in silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of Jacob’s breath and the crackle of dried leaves underfoot. The silent, shadowed woodlands ran alongside the path, but Greta did not feel afraid. She sensed that Jacob would stand between her and any danger.

  * * *

  Jacob felt a twinge of disappointment when they reached the Yoder cabin. He realized that he didn’t want to see Greta disappear through the threshold. There was so much that he wanted to say as they neared the door, but couldn’t. I should not have given us this time together. I will lead her to think that there could be a future for us. Jacob nodded and turned away without saying good-bye. And I know that there cannot be any future. Even though she warms my heart on a cold, moonlit night.

  Greta stared at him for a few beats, waiting for him to speak, then turned toward the cabin with downcast eyes. Jacob caught a glimpse of warmth and firelight as the door creaked open, then the world plunged back into darkness when it banged shut.

  Jacob imagined Greta inside. He pictured her saying hello to Ruth as she hung her cloak on the peg and then warmed herself by the fire while she hummed a tune from the Ausbund. Jacob realized how much he wanted to be inside that cabin too. He could imagine himself pulling a chair beside her and the fire, relaxing in the heat from the flames as Greta laughed and he lost himself in her happy green eyes.

  Jacob frowned and turned back onto the isolated path.

  Chapter Five

  That night, Jacob dreamed that a terrible storm caught him outdoors and he could not find his way home again. Water whirled and slashed through the air until it soaked his skin and he stood alone, shivering. He could feel his body shake from the cold damp. The soft ping, ping, ping of water hit his face in a steady beat until the sensation roused him from sleep.

  Jacob’s eyes flew open and he realized that it had rained into the cabin during the night. The roof had sprung another leak. A water droplet eased through an invisible crack above his bed and plummeted directly onto his forehead. Jacob sighed and wiped his face. Time to repair the shingles again.

  From his vantage point on the roof, he could see across his and the Yoder fields, all the way down to the creek. Jacob heard a song carry on the wind and looked up from his mallet to see Greta strolling toward the muddy bank. She moved with a carefree joy that he could feel come alive in the rhythm of the song.

  “Greta!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted loudly enough for her to hear.

  “Ja?”

  “Do look out for flying squash on your way there. That seems to be a problem in these parts.”

  G
reta jumped and the song cut off in the middle of a word. She spun around. “Oh! I did not know you were there!” She took a moment to gather herself. “Flying squash . . . ?” Then a memory flickered across her face. She frowned and turned back toward the creek. Jacob chuckled.

  Greta stopped short when she reached the edge of the water. Jacob watched as she struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. She just realized that she has forgotten the bucket. Jacob watched her double back and smiled. He shook his head and raised the mallet as he wondered how such an absent-minded girl would ever make it in the backcountry. She’s got spirit. But that does not mean that she is cut out for this life. Marta had spirit too. But I brought her here and—He cut off the thought. The backcountry is no place for a woman like Greta Scholtz. This land is a place for loss and longing. Do not ever forget that.

  Jacob watched Greta disappear behind a stand of pines at the edge of the clearing. He looked down to hit a peg, then glanced back up and watched the young woman reappear at the edge of the creek. She tiptoed across the slick mud, to the edge of the cold, clear current. The sun sparkled off the rushing water and brightened her white apron.

  Jacob paused, mesmerized by the way the light filtered through the trees to fall across her face. Dark, green pines loomed over her and swayed in the autumn breeze. Blue sky stretched above the scene, bright and crisp as the sea.

  He frowned, picked up another peg, and forced himself to look away. He did not glance up again until he heard an angelic voice echo against the foothills. He recognized the old hymn that carried on the wind and felt something stir deep within his heart.

  Greta’s eyes flicked up and she caught him watching her. She grinned. Jacob swallowed. Now she’ll think I’m interested. And I am definitely not interested. I cannot be interested! He felt a tickle of doubt in his gut. I was not staring because I am interested. I was staring simply because she is a making such a racket. You cannot help but notice her.

  Greta continued to stare up at him and grin. He frowned at her. She ignored his reaction and marched forward with her head held high. Ja. She definitely thinks that I am interested now.

  Greta’s attention stayed on Jacob instead of on the path. Her foot caught on a root and she tumbled forward, hit the ground, and sprawled across the grass like a slain goose. Jacob waited for Greta to pick herself up, brush off, and carry on. He sighed. Oh, Greta. Why did you ever come to the backcountry? Can you not see that you are woefully unprepared? His stomach tightened at the thought of Greta, alone against the wilderness. He shoved the thought from his mind. She cannot be my responsibility. I already failed a woman once. And I will not fail another.

  Greta pushed herself out of the dirt. She wiped her mouth with her forearm and struggled into a kneeling position. Her body jerked and she collapsed to the ground again. One hand shot to her ankle.

  Jacob threw down the mallet. I think she is hurt. He flew down the ladder and rushed to her crumpled body. She looked so small and fragile against the green weeds and overturned water bucket. Jacob wanted to smooth back a loose strand of her hair and whisper to her that everything would be all right. He stopped himself from dropping to the ground beside her and taking her in his arms. He shoved his feelings away.

  “We really must stop meeting like this, Greta. I am beginning to think that you prefer wallowing in the mud to my company.”

  “Perhaps I do, Jacob.” She turned her face upward and the paleness of her skin startled him. He noticed her clenched teeth and tight lips.

  Jacob took off his beaver-felt hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and set the hat back on his head. “Are you hurt? Do you need my assistance?”

  “No. I am fine. I do not need help.” She pressed her hands against the earth, struggled to rise, then gasped and collapsed back onto her knees. Jacob tried to take her hand.

  “No, Jacob. I can manage on my own.” She waved him away and tried to push herself up again. Jacob lowered himself to the ground and put a hand on her shoulder. He pressed down gently but firmly.

  “That is enough, Greta. You have proven your point. But I cannot let you walk on your own.”

  “I said I am fine.” Tears formed at the corner of her eyes. She swallowed hard and forced them back.

  “Greta, I insist.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Very well, then. Only because you insist.”

  Jacob leaned closer. “What hurts?”

  “My right ankle.”

  He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I will need to assess the injury.”

  “That would be most improper.”

  “We are on our own, Greta. There is not a doctor for hundreds of miles. Someone has to make sure that it is not broken.”

  Greta grimaced and shook her head. “Isn’t there someone else?”

  Jacob swept his hand to the left and right. “Do you see anyone else? We are surrounded by wilderness.”

  Greta looked up and saw only the soaring forest and endless sky.

  “But . . .”

  Jacob shrugged. “I could leave you here in the mud and walk for help. My horse went lame this week, so I cannot ride. It would take a long time. I would rather set the bone now, before the swelling makes it too difficult.”

  “Set it? You would set my bones, here in the middle of a field?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Ja.”

  Greta looked unconvinced.

  “The truth is, I am the closest thing there is to a doctor around here. I am the only person I know of who has set broken bones before.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me.”

  “Whose bones?”

  “Well, I had an old hunting dog. Best dog you ever saw. She got caught in—”

  Greta put up her hand. “Jacob. Are you telling me that your experience comes from setting the broken leg of a dog?”

  “Ja.”

  Greta exhaled. She shook her head. She exhaled again.

  “Very well, Jacob, proceed.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “You’ll need to remove your hose.”

  “Remove my hose!”

  Jacob shuffled his feet and looked away. “I can hardly check the injury when it is covered by a thick layer of cloth.”

  “But . . .”

  Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “It is up to you, Greta. We can leave it as it is, but that is a risk. If you walk on a broken bone . . .” He sighed. “You could end up with a permanent limp.”

  Greta pursed her lips and raised her chin. “Very well. Turn your back.”

  “Ja.”

  Jacob turned around and kept his eyes on the ridgeline beyond the clearing. Greta pushed aside her pleated overskirt and petticoat and untied the ribbon that held the woolen hose above her right knee. She rolled the black fabric down her calf and exposed her ankle, then readjusted her skirts so that only a tiny sliver of skin showed between her shoe and the hem of her dress.

  “All right. You may turn around now.”

  Jacob kneeled beside her foot and studied the bruised, puffy flesh. He let out a low whistle. “This is much worse than I thought. The swelling . . .” He cut his eyes to her face, then back down to her wounded ankle. She is a lot tougher than I thought. Most men would be bawling like babies right now. And to think, she tried to get up on her own, without my help.

  “I apologize, Greta, but I must feel the bone.”

  Greta nodded her permission and clenched her jaws against the pain.

  Jacob laid his fingers against her ankle and blushed at the impropriety of the situation. Greta flinched, but his large, rough hands felt surprisingly comforting.

  “Try and move it for me.”

  Greta grimaced and moved the foot up and down.

  “Good. Now left and right.”

  She tightened her lips and moved the foot from side to side. His warm, reassuring hand stayed on the bruised flesh. He nodded. “It is not broken.”

  Greta managed a quick smile of relief. “You are sure?”

  “Ja.
Pretty sure.” He set her foot down, returned her smile, then stood up and turned his back. Greta pulled her hose above her knee again and tied it in place. She took a moment to rearrange her skirts and straighten her prayer kappe.

  “Okay.”

  Jacob turned back around and crouched beside her. “We’ve got to get you home.”

  Greta shook her head. “I cannot walk.”

  “No. A sprain can hurt worse than a break. You are in for a difficult few days.”

  Greta sighed. “Then how will I get home? You said that your horse went lame.”

  Jacob did not answer. Instead he slid his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air. She gasped.

  “I didn’t expect . . . you . . .”

  “Shhh. It is fine.” He pressed her against his chest and held her as easily as a child. “You weigh less than a feather.” Something felt so right about drawing her close, warm and safe in his arms. He looked down at her wide green eyes.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Not at all.”

  * * *

  Greta laid her cheek against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of pine and earth. She could feel his muscles flex beneath the homespun shirt. The warmth of his flesh burned against her face and arms through the linsey-woolsey cloth. His heart beat against her ribs. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling of safety that flowed over her.

  Jacob cut the distance quickly and when she opened her eyes again they were already at the cabin. Ruth Yoder stared in surprise as they strode through the door. Jacob brushed past her and headed for the nearest bench. He set Greta down, then slid a second bench toward her.

  “Here. Keep it elevated.” He helped her lift her foot onto the seat while Ruth hovered beside them. “What happened?”

  “I fell.” Greta shrugged. “Clumsy as always.”

  “It is not broken.”