Where the Heart Takes You

by Virginia Wise

  Greta shrugged and gave a half smile. “Just enjoying baking day.”

  “Hmmm. Yes. Well, I am sure you are.” Catrina put her arm in Jacob’s. “You ought to get out of the cold air, Jacob. It is not good for your recovery.”

  The twins noticed that Greta had stopped chasing them and circled back to the adults. Peter whooped and careened into Greta. She hugged the boy despite the sticky paste covering his body. “I told you that I would catch you!”

  “You did not catch me!” Peter protested. “I caught you!”

  Jacob’s heart warmed as he watched Greta laugh and pull the child closer. He leaned forward and tousled Peter’s hair. The little boy turned to hug him and Catrina, but she shrank back. “No! You are all gooey! What is that? What have you done to yourself?”

  Greta laughed and pulled Peter back into her arms. “It is just flour and water.”

  Catrina wrinkled her nose and tried to catch Jacob’s eye, but his gaze stayed on Greta. Catrina tugged at his arm. “Come, Jacob. There is an unhealthy chill in the air.”

  * * *

  The next morning Greta did not see Jacob working outside when she went to fetch water. She shielded her eyes from the sun with the edge of her hand and scanned the fields. Greta wondered if his health had taken a turn for the worse. She frowned, slid the yoke from her shoulders, and cut across the field to Jacob’s land.

  “Jacob? Are you about?” She marched to the cabin and knocked hard on the stout oak door. “Hello? Jacob?” He responded with an explosive cough. She knocked again. “Jacob?”

  “Come in.”

  She pushed open the door and saw Jacob crouched by the hearth. His eyes looked glassy and his skin was slick with sweat.

  “Jacob! You are terribly unwell!”

  “Ja.” He broke into another coughing fit.

  “You must lie down. Let me tend the fire.”

  “I am so cold.” He shivered and leaned closer to the flames. Greta rushed to him and placed her palm on his forehead. She gasped and jerked her hand away. “You are burning up!” Greta grabbed a quilt off the foot of his bedstead and draped the heavy fabric over his shoulders. “There. That will help.” She pulled the quilt tight around his chin, then stooped to pick up a log. She dropped it on the flames and pulled her hand back to avoid the shower of sparks that flew upward from the coals.

  “So cold.”

  Greta wondered if Jacob even realized that she was there. “It will be warmer soon.” She picked up the poker and jabbed the log until the flames licked against the edge of the hearth. Greta set the poker aside and wiped her forehead. What now?

  A knock on the door interrupted her question.

  “Ja. Come in.”

  The door creaked open and Catrina swept into the room, followed by her grandmother. The young woman looked surprised. “Oh. Greta. Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on Jacob. Seems that he has taken a turn for the worse.”

  Catrina’s grandmother clucked her tongue and felt Jacob’s forehead. “Ja. He is burning up.” She observed him for a moment and nodded. “He is delirious, I imagine.”

  Catrina smoothed her prayer kappe and watched her grandmother dip a rag in the water bucket. “We were afraid of this.” Mrs. Witmer wrung out the rag and pressed it to Jacob’s forehead.

  “He should not have been outside yesterday.” Catrina gave Greta a sharp look. “You should not have kept him out there. When I got there I insisted that he go back inside right away.”

  “I did not even know that he was ill.”

  Catrina raised an eyebrow. “No. You wouldn’t have, would you?”

  Greta opened her mouth and then closed it again. She did not know how to respond.

  “My grandmother and I have been taking care of Jacob all week. You have not been here.”

  “I have not been here because . . . because . . .”

  “Because why?”

  “Because you and he . . . I thought . . .”

  “Ja. Jacob has shown his intention to court me.” Catrina frowned and looked away. “I am sorry that I snapped at you. It is just that Jacob and I have grown close these last weeks and I cannot bear to see him ailing.”

  “Ja. Of course.”

  Greta’s eyes stung. Catrina had taken Greta’s place in Jacob’s life completely. She felt pushed aside and unwanted. Greta glanced at Frena Witmer to see if she had heard the conversation. The elderly woman was too busy sponging Jacob’s forehead to pay attention and Greta felt relieved that her humiliation went unnoticed.

  Catrina turned her back on Greta and flounced to the hearth. “You poor dear.” She placed a soft hand on his brow. “It’s all right. I am here now.” Greta studied the scene with a sinking heart. There is no place for me here. She backed out of the room, rushed out the door, and hurried across the clearing with her heart pounding in her ears.

  Eliza met Greta at the cabin door. “Where is the water? I thought that you went to the creek.”

  Greta sighed. “Oh. The water. I forgot all about it.”

  Eliza gave her a quizzical look and then shrugged. “Don’t worry. I will get it.”

  “I will come too!” Peter jumped up and bounded into the sunshine.

  “I left the buckets and yoke in the clearing. You will see it.”

  Eliza nodded her head and chased after Peter. Greta took a deep breath and shut the door. She leaned her forehead against the rough oak doorframe and closed her eyes.

  Ruth looked up from her spinning. “You are in quite a state, I see.”

  “It is that Catrina Witmer. She seems certain of a match.” Greta clenched her teeth. “It is just so hard to watch.”

  Ruth raised her eyebrows. “She was at Jacob’s farm again?”

  “Ja. She’s been there all week, apparently. He’s been sick and I did not even know it. Catrina and her grandmother have been taking care of him.”

  Greta looked down. Her stomach churned. “I have no place there.”

  “Humph!” Ruth frowned as she spun the drop spindle. “You have been so intimidated by Catrina that you tucked your tail and ran. You practically pushed her right into his arms.”

  “That is a terrible overstatement!”

  “Is it?”

  Greta paused. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “All right. I admit it. But you cannot blame me, Ruth. Just look at her!”

  The drop spindle kept twirling with a soft whir in Ruth’s hands. “Do you really believe that, Greta? As a Plain woman, do you really place greater worth on beauty than character?”

  “I do value character over looks.” Greta looked down. “Well, I do in theory, anyway.” She glanced back up at Ruth with a pleading expression. “But when I have to face it in real life, that is a different story. I feel so inadequate next to her. And it is not just her looks. She is always so well put together; nothing is ever stained or wrinkled. And she can bake a perfect cake. Everything she does is perfect.” Greta threw up her hands. “Meanwhile, everything that I bake burns, and I run around with flour all over my face and—”

  Ruth put up a hand. “That is quite enough. We all have our insecurities, but we do not have to let them win. You need to hold your head up and know that der Herr made you to be exactly who He wants you to be.”

  “Do you really think that Jacob likes me for who I am?”

  “Ja. I have told you that from the first day you met him.”

  Greta frowned. “But what about Catrina?”

  “I feel sorry for Catrina, really.”

  Greta looked surprised. “You do?”

  “Of course. She must be terribly insecure. Why else would she rely on her beauty the way she does? Why else would she show off her baking skills and put so much effort into her appearance?”

  “Catrina, insecure? Why on earth would she be insecure?”

  Ruth shrugged. “Who knows? We all have our own problems to deal with. Nobody is perfect—no matter how much it seems otherwise.”

  Greta laug
hed. “She did not seem insecure to me today, when she practically kicked me out of Jacob’s cabin! She made it clear that she was taking care of him and that I was not needed.”

  Ruth shrugged. “Whose cabin is it?”

  “Jacob’s, of course.”

  Ruth grinned. “Then Catrina has no say in the matter.”

  “No.” Greta spread out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “But—”

  Ruth shook her head. “No buts about it. She’s got no claim on Jacob. They are not engaged.” She gave Greta a hard stare. “Not yet anyway.”

  Greta narrowed her eyes. “No, not yet.”

  Ruth shrugged and turned the drop spindle. “Although it seems only a matter of time, ja?”

  Greta felt intimidated and conflicted. But truth weighed down her heart like a stone. She knew that she had given up on the love she had for Jacob. Only a matter of time? What have I done? She remembered the way her heart leapt when Jacob gazed down at her with a sly twinkle in his eyes. She remembered the way her breath caught in her throat when he scooped her up in his strong, muscular arms and carried her to safety. She remembered the warm, familiar joy she felt when he teased her.

  Something sparked deep within her and rose to the surface. Greta sat up straighter. She knew that she wasn’t willing to give up on Jacob. Not yet. Not ever. She took a deep breath and let it out. A confident smile spread across her face. “’Tis only a matter of time—unless someone helps Jacob realize that he is on the wrong path.”

  Ruth smiled. “Might that someone be you?”

  Greta squared her shoulders. “Ja. Naturally.”

  “Naturally.”

  “The only question is how.”

  “Perhaps you should tell Catrina that you held a claim to his heart before she arrived.”

  “No.” Greta’s face tightened. “I cannot. The humiliation would be too great if he chooses her. And besides, I only want Jacob to choose me if he truly loves me. If he prefers Catrina, then he should be free to choose her. I want him to make the decision. I don’t want to feel that he settled for second best because Catrina removed herself from the competition.”

  “Then, it is simple. If you believe that you are meant to be with Jacob Miller, let him know it. He cannot choose you if he does not know that you want to be chosen.”

  “Declare my affection for him? Why Ruth, you push the boundaries of propriety!” Greta shook her head so hard that a lock of hair escaped her prayer kappe. “It would be unseemly. I have already told you that.”

  “Then don’t communicate your feelings with words. Show him. Try talking to him again. Let him get to know you better. Do not run away every time Catrina tries to shoo you away.”

  “Ja. That is the way to reach him, surely. I will show him that I care. And then, if he chooses her over me—after I show him that I have affection for him—that is his fault.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Greta marched right back to Jacob’s cabin with a new sense of purpose. She strode between the towering pines and into his clearing with her head held high. Greta knocked on the door and took a deep breath. I will not let Catrina intimidate me this time!

  The flawless young woman opened the door, looked surprised, then frowned. “Greta, dear. I am so sorry, but Jacob needs his rest. This really is not a good time.”

  “Well, I see that you are here.”

  “Yes, well, Grandmother and I are nursing Jacob back to health.”

  “Uh-huh. So am I.”

  “There really is not anything that you can do.”

  “Oh, I am sure that there is.” Greta pushed her way past Catrina. She rolled up her sleeves and surveyed the room. “Now, where to start . . .”

  “You can fetch me a bucket of water.” Frena Witmer motioned toward the empty bucket. Greta sighed. She had not planned to haul water from the creek. She had imagined sitting by Jacob’s bedside and sponging his forehead as he held her hand. But she pushed the thought aside. I am not above doing the small things.

  “Ja. I can do that.”

  Catrina smiled. “How thoughtful of you.”

  Greta nodded and grabbed the bucket. She refused to let Catrina get under her skin.

  When Greta returned, Frena Witmer sat by Jacob’s bedstead with a cold compress in her hand. He shivered and the rough bedstead, which was built directly into the log wall, creaked from his weight. Catrina lounged by the hearth. She yawned and stirred the cauldron, then set the spoon down and leaned back. Greta slid past her beautiful rival to Jacob’s bedside. “Let me give you a break.” Frena looked up and smiled. “Ja.” She stood up and stretched her back. “His fever is coming down, I think. Keep refreshing the compress with cool water.”

  “Ja.”

  Catrina snapped into action when she saw Greta take her grandmother’s place. “Oh, Greta. You simply must help me.” She rushed to Jacob’s bedside and slid onto the narrow bench before Greta could. “Go taste the stew, won’t you? Tell me if it needs more seasoning.” Greta clenched her jaw. She counted to ten. “Ja. I can do that.” Catrina smiled and readjusted the compress on Jacob’s forehead.

  Greta and Frena both settled down by the fire. The old woman stoked the coals every now and then as the minutes passed in awkward silence. Greta glanced over at Jacob, and Catrina made a show of reapplying the cold compress to his forehead. Greta frowned and stirred the cauldron. Perhaps what Ruth said is true. Why would Catrina need to make a show of her efforts unless she feels insecure of herself ?

  She sat and waited until she could not take it anymore. I need to be useful. Greta stood up and took a deep breath. I can find something helpful to do, no matter how much Catrina wants to shut me out!

  “Going home, dear?”

  “No. I have an idea.”

  “An idea?” Catrina cocked her head. “What idea?”

  “I think that I have seen wild yarrow near here. I am going to see if I can find it again.”

  Catrina giggled. “Why would you bring Jacob flowers?”

  “Yarrow is good medicine,” Frena remarked in an authoritative tone. “We can make it into a tea that will help sweat the fever out.”

  Catrina stopped giggling. She pursed her lips and adjusted her prayer kappe. Greta did not look her way. Instead, she nodded at Frena. “Ja. I will be back soon.”

  Greta strode across the yard with a sense of purpose. She searched the edge of the clearing where the wild grasses grew in a tangled mass. No yarrow. Greta wandered into the Yoder field and scanned the ground. No yarrow. She passed Rose and patted the cow’s shoulder. The animal studied Greta with warm black eyes as she chewed her cud.

  “Where does the yarrow grow, Rose? You eat it, don’t you?” Rose bellowed and twitched her tail. Greta sighed. “I know it is late in the season, but surely some leaves survive still.” She worked her way through the settlement’s clearings and trails, looking everywhere that the wild herb might grow. She had circled all the way back to Jacob’s land when she caught sight of feathery, fernlike leaves across the creek from his farm.

  “Found it!” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the landscape. “I can make it across. I am sure of it.” She bit her lip and stepped onto a stone, then leapt onto a second rock. She held out her arms to steady herself, jumped to the next rock, and onto the soft mud of the riverbank. Greta grinned and rushed to a knee-deep patch of yarrow. She yanked handfuls of the healing herb from the wet earth and tucked them into her apron. I knew I could be useful! When the cloth could hold no more, Greta stood up, wiped the dirt from her fingers, and hurried back to Jacob’s cabin.

  Frena beamed when Greta opened her apron and shook the yarrow onto the table. “Wunderbar! I wondered if you would find any this late in the season.” The elderly woman reached for the kettle. “I will get the water boiling.” Greta nodded and sat down. She picked through the weeds and separated the delicate, wispy leaves from their stems. Catrina watched from Jacob’s bedside. “I did not know those ugly little plants were good for anything.�
��

  Greta shrugged. “You cannot judge a book by its cover.”

  Catrina frowned and turned back to Jacob. She checked his forehead and rewet the compress as Greta dropped the leaves into the cauldron to steep. I hope this helps. It has to! She glanced at Jacob. He tossed and turned beneath the quilt.

  Greta waited until the water turned yellow, poured the concoction into Jacob’s pewter cup, and brought it to his bedside. Catrina looked up and smiled sweetly. “I can give it to him.”

  “Danke, but I will take care of it. I am sure that you could use the break.”

  Catrina pursed her lips and did not move from the bench. She looked confused by Greta’s presence. Greta sighed and knelt by the bedstead. She studied Jacob’s ashen face and then lifted his head.

  “Wake up, Jacob. You must drink this.”

  Jacob twitched and mumbled. Greta cringed when she felt his skin. “You are much too hot.” She lifted his head higher. “Really, you must drink some of this. It will sweat out the fever.”

  Jacob mumbled incoherently. Greta pressed the cup to his lips until he took a sip. “Bitter.” Jacob’s eyes stayed closed but he shook his head. “Bitter.”

  “Shhhh. Just take a few sips.”

  He shook his head again. “Bitter.”

  Greta frowned and pulled the cup away. “He will not drink it.” She thought for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “Catrina, do you have any more sugar?”

  “There are just a few spoonfuls left.”

  “Wunderbar! Please, go and fetch it. If we sweeten the tea, then Jacob might drink it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Greta. It is almost gone. I was saving it . . . Can you not get him to drink it as it is?”

  “Catrina! This is much more important than a cake or a pie!”

  “She is right, Catrina.” Frena shot her granddaughter a warning look. “Go on, now.”

  Catrina forced a smile. “Ja. I will take care of it.”

  Greta slid onto the bench as soon as her rival vacated it. She smoothed Jacob’s hair from his forehead and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She took in his strong jaw and Roman nose and felt her heart warm as she realized how familiar his features were. She thought about the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed and hardened when he was irritated. She remembered the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was nervous, and the little half smile he flashed when he knew that he had gotten the better of her.