Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  “Welcome, children. I am so glad that we are blessed with this opportunity.” Seven pairs of eyes stared up at her, waiting. Greta felt her face flush. She forced a smile.

  “First, we need to assess your reading and writing skills.” Greta drilled each child and sorted them into groups by skill level. She tested their knowledge of the ABCs with her copy of the Bible and the Ausbund, since these were the only books that any of them owned. The dirt floor served as a tablet, a twig for a pen.

  By the end of the lesson, Greta’s nervousness transformed into confidence and her heart warmed with a newfound sense of purpose. When dusk fell on the cabin she could not believe how fast the minutes had flown past. “It is time for me to send you home, children.” She collected the books and helped the younger children fasten their cloaks.

  “I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow.”

  Christian handed Greta a butternut squash as she waved them out the door. “Here, Greta. This is for you.”

  “Thank you, Christian. This will make a lovely dinner.”

  “Mother says that we must feed you for teaching us. At least until you get married.” His brow creased in concentration. “You are the lady who is going to marry Jacob Miller, aren’t you?”

  Greta’s mouth fell open. Christian peered up at her with big brown eyes. She stared back at him for a few beats, unable to voice a response. All of the children stopped wiggling and stared back at her. The room fell into complete and painful silence.

  Gretel Gruber reached up and tugged on her teacher’s skirt. “Ja, Greta, aren’t you supposed to marry Jacob?”

  The smallest girl, Anna Stoltzfus, jumped up and down and clapped. “Oh! I love weddings! There are cakes and pies and roast beef at weddings!” She grabbed Greta’s hand and squeezed. “Do marry soon, Greta. I have not had cake in forever!”

  “There will not be any cake,” Christian admonished. “There cannot be cake without sugar. And there is no sugar.”

  The little girl’s face scrunched up and she began to cry.

  “Oh, dear.” Greta rubbed the child’s back. “Oh, no. No crying, Anna.”

  “But I want cake. And now there will be no cake.”

  “There can still be roast beef,” Christian said.

  Anna snuffled and wiped her eyes. “Roast beef?” She smiled and wiped her eyes again. “I do like roast beef.”

  Greta put out her hand. “Oh, no. I am sorry, dear. But there will not be any roast beef. Or cake. Or pie.”

  The little girl began to wail again. “Not even a dried apple pie?”

  “No, dear. Not even a dried apple pie.” Greta pinched the bridge of her nose. “There will not be pie or cake or roast beef because there will be no wedding.”

  Anna stopped crying and looked up. “But, everyone says that there will be a wedding.” The children nodded in unison.

  Greta put her face in her hands and groaned.

  Ruth stood up from a bench in the corner and made a shooing motion with her hands. “All right, children, that is enough for today. Out with you all, before you miss your supper.” The children filed outside and skipped down the path until their shouts disappeared into the cold evening air. Greta shut the door and collapsed onto a bench. She shook her head. “Well, I never.” She shook her head again.

  “Do not pay it any mind, dear,” Ruth said as she looked up from her mending. “Children say the funniest things.”

  “So it is not true, then. Everyone in the settlement is not saying that Jacob and I will be married?”

  “Oh no, dear. Of course they are all saying that.”

  Greta put her face in her hands. Soon the entire settlement would learn that Jacob had rejected her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Greta tried to push aside all thoughts of Jacob Miller the next day. She decided to distract herself by doing the laundry and spent the morning hunched over a cauldron of boiling water in the crisp autumn air. Lye soap burned her nostrils as she stirred shifts, stays, woolen hosen, and neck cloths with a big wooden paddle.

  “The children will be here soon,” Ruth reminded her when the sun began its downward arc. Greta frowned and pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her face.

  “What a mess!” Greta shook her head as she surveyed her stained apron and muddied skirt. “Sometimes I think that doing the laundry just creates more laundry!” She sighed and shook her head again. Ruth smiled, patted her shoulder, and headed to the kitchen garden.

  Greta leaned over the side of the cauldron to hoist out the wet laundry. Her fingers found a grip on the bed linens in the dull, murky water. She pulled, but the waterlogged fabric caught beneath other garments and wouldn’t budge. She clenched her fingers tighter and used her body weight to pull backward. Greta strained until the linens shot upward. The momentum threw her backward—and into strong, familiar arms.

  “We really must stop meeting like this,” Jacob said as he steadied her, then stepped back.

  “Oh!” Greta’s hands flew to her face and she stuffed loose strands of hair back under her prayer kappe. “I did not . . . I did not expect you.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead and smoothed the front of her bodice. “Where did you come from?” Why does he always appear when I am at my worst?

  “We are neighbors, if you had not noticed. ’Tis a short walk from my place to yours.”

  “But how long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to wonder if you were trying to knock me down intentionally.”

  Greta blushed. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “No. Of course not. Thank you for catching me.”

  “I would not blame you if you did try to knock me down, you know.”

  “Oh.” She looked up at him with a startled expression.

  Jacob stared at her and she felt herself melt into the dark pools of his eyes. “After what I said to you.”

  Greta studied his face, unsure of what he meant or how to respond. Her heart fluttered against her rib cage like a sparrow’s wings. Is he trying to take back what he said to me? Is he trying to tell me that he does hold some affection for me? The air between them felt tight with anticipation. “What do you mean, Jacob?”

  Jacob opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again. A sad expression passed over his face. Greta thought he seemed lost and alone, even though he stood so tall and strong and looked so capable. How can a man who has trekked across the wilderness and built a cabin with his own work-hardened hands look so vulnerable? Greta wanted to reach out, take his broad, strong hands, and tell him that all would be well. Instead, she gazed into his guarded eyes and waited. He stared back. Greta’s heartbeat pulsed in her ears. She sensed a deep longing beneath his hardened features.

  Jacob’s expression changed and he shifted his feet. The moment was gone.

  “You have a spot there.” Jacob pointed to her cheek. She frowned and rubbed at her face while she tried to maintain a dignified expression.

  Jacob gave a slight smile. “Still there.”

  She kept rubbing.

  “Ja, now you are just spreading the dirt around.” Jacob pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped her face. “There we go.”

  Greta looked back down at the cauldron. She felt embarrassed and uncertain. Did I imagine the connection I felt when he looked at me? Why did he push the moment away? Why is he here?

  Greta looked up and met his gaze again. She felt a magnetic pull as their eyes connected. Time stood still. The noise of the birds and movement of the wind through the trees dropped away. There was only the intensity of Jacob’s dark, mysterious eyes.

  A swirl of skirts and an enthusiastic hello interrupted them. “Oh Greta, darling!” Catrina ran toward them and clapped her hands together. “You must introduce me!”

  Greta sucked in her breath, startled. She cleared her throat and forced a polite smile as the world snapped back into place. She was suddenly aware of her bedraggled appearance next to Catrina’s clean white apron and perfectly smoothed hair. “I
didn’t expect to see you here, today.”

  Catrina laughed. “I came to call on you. We are going to be great friends, remember.” She switched her attention to Jacob. “Now, you were about to introduce us.”

  “Oh. Ja. Of course. This is Jacob Miller.” Her gaze lingered on his chiseled, unreadable features before she turned back to Catrina. “And this is Catrina Witmer, newly arrived from Philadelphia with her grandparents. And new to our faith as well.”

  “Hello, Mr. Miller.” She gazed up at him through thick black lashes. “How delightful to meet you.”

  “Call me Jacob. Plain folk don’t put much stock in titles and such.”

  Catrina nodded and continued to gaze up at him with a flawless smile.

  Jacob did not return the smile. “I trust you had a safe journey?”

  “It was terrible! Just terrible!” She placed a delicate hand on Jacob’s arm. “I have never felt so alone. How wonderful it is to be amongst people again.”

  Greta studied Jacob’s expression as Catrina chattered like a bright, happy bird. Greta tried to decipher what Jacob thought of the newcomer. His face remained distant and he did not laugh when Catrina threw back her head and giggled.

  Greta watched the interaction carefully. Maybe he is not swayed by her beauty. He called on me for a reason today.

  “I must get back to my work,” Jacob interjected when he found a break in Catrina’s enthusiastic monologue.

  “Oh, must you?”

  He sighed. “Ja. I only came round to deliver Greta’s milk cow. She has been sampling my kitchen garden again.”

  “Oh. Rose.” Greta cringed. Of course. He called because he had to return my cow. I should not have assumed that there was more to his visit. He made his feelings clear last we spoke.

  “I brought her back here to release her so she doesn’t go straight back to my cabbages.” He flashed an impish grin. “Maybe she will sample your cabbages instead.”

  Greta managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  Jacob hesitated and Greta thought he might say something. But instead he tipped his black beaver-felt hat and strode away. She watched the tall, solitary figure cut across the clearing and disappear into the shadows of the hemlocks. She leaned against the smooth metal cauldron and stared at the empty tree line. Catrina chatted about something in a merry voice, but Greta did not notice. She felt cold and empty inside.

  * * *

  Greta’s mind felt heavy with thoughts of Jacob as she tried to teach the children that afternoon. She kept asking herself over and over again why he held no affection for her. What is wrong with me? Am I that unlovable? She ran through her interactions with the aloof widower and felt her stomach sink with each memory. What could I possibly offer him? I cannot keep my cow out of his garden, I am afraid of possums, and every time he sees me I fall into his arms—quite literally! He must think that I can barely function. He comes to my rescue nearly every day, it seems.

  Greta frowned and turned the page of the Ausbund. The thin, yellowed page whispered beneath her finger. She tried to focus, but an image of Catrina Witmer came to her. Greta remembered the woman’s flawless skin, raven black hair, and piercing blue eyes. Surely it is only a matter of time before Jacob finds affection for her and her beauty. If only I had something to offer. Some way to show him that I can do something right. Maybe then he would develop affection for me.

  Greta sat up straighter. She had an idea. Her mind raced as she considered if she could pull it off. A small smile appeared on her lips. She would manage it. She had to. And Jacob Miller will have to take notice of me!

  “What are you thinking about?” Anna tugged on Greta’s skirt. “You were daydreaming, weren’t you?” The little girl pointed to the dirt floor. “I spelled out ‘bat’ and I got the ‘bee’ right, but you did not notice.”

  “Oh, Anna! That looks wonderful! Very nice.” Greta smiled. “I am sorry that I was not paying attention. My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Where was it?”

  Greta laughed and tapped little Anna on the tip of the nose. “Funny you should ask, darling. I was thinking of sugar. And you know what we make with sugar, don’t you?”

  “Cake!”

  “Ja!”

  “Are you going to make a cake?” Anna jumped up and down. “You are getting married after all, aren’t you! I knew it! Cake! Cake for everyone!” The children jumped up and down and shouted.

  “Oh, no!” Greta shook her head. “I am not getting married.” She held up her hand to ward off the shouts of disappointment. “But I am planning to bake a cake.”

  “Cake!” The children shouted in unison and jumped up and down again.

  “Greta, you should not get their hopes up.” Ruth shot her a warning look from the corner of the cabin. “You know that there is no sugar to be had.”

  Greta nodded. “Ja. Ja, I know. But I have an idea.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be perfect to bring a cake to the next worship service to welcome the Witmer family?” And impress Jacob.

  The children squealed in delight.

  “Now. All of you run along. We will end class a little bit early today so that I can get started.” She helped the children into their wraps and sent them on their way with a grin.

  Ruth shook her head as soon as the door shut. “Greta, what are you up to?”

  “I have a plan.” Greta grabbed her cloak from the peg and fastened it around her shoulders, then picked up one of the wooden water buckets.

  “And? What is this plan of yours?” The elderly woman looked skeptical.

  “Just wait. You will know as soon as I get back.”

  * * *

  Greta raced across the clearing, toward the edge of the forest. “If I can just remember where it is . . .” She slowed when she reached the tree line and studied the branches. “Hmmm. I knew that I saw it here somewhere.” She passed Rose and patted her on the shoulder. “Do you remember where it is, girl?” The cow raised her head and stared with disinterested eyes as she chewed her cud.

  Greta walked until she reached the edge of the Yoder farm. “That’s funny. I did not remember it being quite so deep in the woods.” She frowned and squinted at the tree branches.

  “Oh look, Rose, there it is!” Greta broke into a wide grin as she rushed to a large bush. “There is a beehive in there, Rose! And do you know what bees make? Honey!”

  Just think how happy I will make everyone when I bring a cake to the service tomorrow. Jacob will have to admit that he is impressed. She heard a small, nagging voice remind her of a foundational Amish belief: Pride cometh before a fall. She ignored the thought. Just imagine the look on his face when I serve him cake! He will have to admit that I am worth his affection. She raised her chin and felt a thrill of victory.

  Greta eased up to the hive. “Okay, Rose. What now?” Greta did not hear the cowbell and glanced back over her shoulder. Rose had disappeared. “Hmm, well, I am sure that I can figure this out on my own.” She picked up a stick and studied the hive. I will just give it a little poke and see what happens. She shuffled forward. I am sure that it will be fine. The bees are probably hibernating . . . right?

  Greta gave the hive a good jab with the stick. Nothing happened. “Ja. Hibernating.” As soon as she said the words an insect zipped out of the hive, straight for her. Another followed. Then another and another. Greta leapt back. She felt a sharp pinch on her arm. “Ouch!” A second insect dive-bombed her face. “Wait! That’s not a bee!” A cloud of wasps poured out of the hive, full of wrath and ready for vengeance. Greta screamed, hitched up her skirts, and ran.

  Jacob heard a sharp cry pierce the autumn air and took off running. He knew that voice. His heart pounded against his chest as he raced across the wheat field and jumped the split rail fence. “Greta! Greta!” She stumbled out of the woods and into his clearing in a wild, zigzagging motion. Her shrieks echoed off the Blue Mountain as she slapped at her face and hair. “Greta, are you all right?”

  “Run,
Jacob! Run!” She veered away from him and waved her arms. “Save yourself!” Jacob did not listen to the crazed young woman. Instead, he ran toward her even faster, until he drew close enough to see the mob of wasps that swarmed around her. “Do not come any closer! They will get you, too!”

  Jacob lunged for her and grabbed her hand. “No! This way! If you go back into the woods they will not stop until you are dead!” He pulled her toward his farm and tried to dodge the painful stings. They clambered over a split rail fence, hit the ground running, and flew across the field.

  “In here!” He pulled her into the pigsty.

  “But the pigs! The mud!”

  “Ja! The mud!” He picked Greta up and tossed her into the watering trough. “You will thank me for this. I promise.” She landed with a splash and gasped as slop sprayed into her face. “Put your head down!” Greta held her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and pushed her face to the bottom of the trough. Jacob grabbed handfuls of mud and smeared it across her back and neck.

  As soon as he had completely covered Greta’s body in mud, Jacob dropped to the ground and rolled in a puddle. The wasps circled for another minute, then pulled back and buzzed away.

  Greta lay stunned in the trough. Her prayer kappe drooped off her head and her chestnut-colored curls unfurled about her face in a wet, muddy mess. She wiped the slime and water off her mouth and spit. She spit again. She pushed herself into a sitting position. Dirty water streamed off her bodice and ran into her lap as she reached for her kappe.

  Jacob lay sprawled on the ground beside her, covered in mud. A fat sow wandered over, grunted, and sniffed at his face. Greta stared at Jacob and the pig as she fumbled with the prayer kappe. She pushed it over her hair, but dirty water poured out of the fabric and streamed down her face. She groaned, snatched it off her head, and wrung it out. Greta stuck it back on her head and locked eyes with Jacob. He pushed the pig aside, sat up, and rubbed mud off his face.

  “Well, Jacob Miller, I believe the first time we met you said something about my ‘wallowing in the mud.’” She flashed a smile. “Looks like I am not the only one.” And then she began to laugh.