A Groom for Greta. Anna Schmidt

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ that led to a downstairs bedroom, knowing the bishop and other elders always gathered there before the services began. She was about to tell Lydia to go to the kitchen when she practically ran into Josef. Through the open doorway behind him, she could see Bishop Troyer and the two other preachers who would speak that morning. They were all looking at her, their eyes full of pity.

      “Guten morgen, Josef,” she said brightly as she edged around him in the narrow hallway.

      “I have just told them,” Josef said without returning her greeting or meeting her eyes.

      “Gut,” Greta murmured with no further pretense at acting as if anything about this morning was normal.

      “Greta?” Bishop Troyer had come to the doorway. “I wonder if I might have a word with you and Josef before services begin?” The other church elders left the room and Bishop Troyer closed the door.

      Woodenly Greta sat down on the only chair in the room. Normally she would have remained standing out of respect but the truth was that, upon seeing Josef, her knees had gone weak and she wasn’t at all sure that she could maintain her balance without support. Josef stayed close by the door, studying the wide planks of the wooden floor.

      “Josef has told me of your decision,” he began.

      Her decision?

      She glanced up at Josef and saw that his cheeks had gone red. “It was my decision, Bishop,” he muttered. “Greta...” He shrugged which only infuriated her more.

      Greta what? Had no say in the matter?

      Bishop Troyer seemed momentarily perplexed. “I see,” he murmured. “When you told me that you and Greta would not be marrying this autumn, I just assumed that...”

      “It was my decision,” Josef repeated.

      “The fact is, Bishop, that we won’t be marrying at all,” Greta added, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth.

      Josef looked up then, his eyes wide with shock. “Well, that is...”

      “Isn’t that what you told me?” she challenged. She stood up and realized that her anger at the unfairness of the situation had given her strength. “It’s for the best, don’t you think?” This she directed to the bishop.

      The kindly white-haired man who had been the head of their church for as long as Greta could remember looked at her and then at Josef, his brow furrowed with concern. “This is a time for prayer—not haste. You must both ask God to show you His plan for your lives. It is true that you and others have long assumed that His intention was for the two of you to share a life. And that may yet be the way of it. This is not for either of you to decide without first praying on the matter.”

      “It was not a decision made in haste,” Josef replied.

      “Then why?” Greta blurted out before the bishop could speak. “Is there someone else?”

      Josef looked at her and she saw for the first time the pain that lined his features. “How many times have I asked you that question,” he said softly. “I have asked it time and again.”

      “And time and again I have told you that you are imagining things.”

      “And yet, not once have you said that you love me, Greta.”

      It was true and there were no words to deny it. Fortunately she was saved by a soft knock on the door. “Pastor?” she heard one of the other ministers say. “It’s time.”

      Josef opened the door and brushed past the two other preachers waiting in the hallway.

      “Come along, child,” the bishop said as he led the way down the hall and into the front room where Josef had already taken his seat with the other men. Greta took her place next to Lydia on the first of two benches where the unmarried girls and women were seated.

      * * *

      In spite of the cool reception he’d received from Lydia that morning, Luke was determined to ask to see her home later that evening. If she refused him at least he would know where he stood. It would have complex ramifications, for if Lydia Goodloe turned him down, he might have to think seriously about moving on to another community. But one step at a time. Having settled on his plan, he was free to focus all of his attention on the words of Bishop Troyer—a lesson that seemed directed at him. But, of course, that wasn’t possible. He’d taken care to keep his past to himself since his arrival in Celery Fields. But the flicker of panic he felt whenever he thought there was the possibility of others learning of his past was never far from the surface of his emotions.

      The lesson came from the twenty-ninth chapter of the book of Genesis. It was the story of Jacob’s love for Rachel and how her father, Laban, tricked Jacob into marrying his elder daughter, Leah, instead. Two sisters, the elder less desirable than the younger. And although the minister’s sermon was about Laban’s deceit, all Luke could think about was the biblical sisters. In the end Jacob had married them both but God had given him children by Leah while the much beloved Rachel remained barren. Had that been God’s punishment? And if so, why punish a man like Jacob who had worked years for the privilege of marrying the woman he truly loved?

      Luke shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench as he remembered another pair of sisters—this time in Ontario. Their father had also been anxious to see his eldest daughter married and he had set his sights on Luke as the best possible candidate. But Luke was drawn to the man’s younger, fairer daughter just as Jacob had been. And just like Jacob the father had tried to trick him into the match with the elder daughter. Only Luke— unlike Jacob—had refused to be drawn into such a plot.

      When everything had turned out for the worst, Luke had often wondered if God had punished him for his refusal to even consider courting, much less marrying the older sister. But in that Biblical world multiple wives were allowed—Jacob could marry Leah and the beloved Rachel, as well. Luke did not have that choice. In the end his only real choice had been to leave the community where he had lived his whole life and move to a place where he could start over. Celery Fields had seemed the perfect place.

      He glanced over to the bench where Lydia Goodloe sat, her eyes riveted on the pastor, her hands folded piously in her lap, her face intent as she took in the lesson of the sermon. Luke did not love her—how could he? He barely knew her other than to nod politely whenever they crossed paths. Still he had observed that she was a good and steadfast woman. In spite of her strictness, the children who were her students clearly admired her. Yes, Lydia Goodloe would be a wise choice to manage his home and raise his children in the faith of their ancestors. He could do a lot worse than Lydia Goodloe.

      But then his gaze was drawn to the sister—Greta. Unlike Lydia, Greta’s eyes did not remain fixed on the minister. Instead, she glanced around, out the window, up at the ceiling, at some lint she picked off her dark green cotton dress. Although she sat relatively still, her eyes darted around the room like a butterfly pausing at one flower and then quickly moving on to the next.

      It occurred to Luke that if he were successful in his courtship of the elder sister, he would no doubt be expected to take in the younger one, as well. In the absence of her late parents, he and Lydia would be Greta’s guardians, at least until she married. He could only pray that Josef Bontrager would reconsider his decision and take Greta for his wife.

      Just then Greta’s eyes lighted on him for an instant and he saw her scowl before quickly ducking her head and folding her hands in her СКАЧАТЬ