Amish Romance: The Wedding (Hollybrook Amish Romance Greta's Story Book 3) Read online

  The Wedding

  A Hollybrook Amish Romance Greta’s Story #3

  Brenda Maxfield

  Contents

  Personal Word from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for Reading

  More Hollybrook Amish Romances for You

  About the Author

  Personal Word from the Author

  Dearest Readers,

  Thank you so much for reading one of my books! Your kinds words and loving readership make my day. As a thank you, I would like to give you a simple gift of my two favorite Amish recipes and keep you up-to-date with new releases and special offers.

  Click Here To Get Your Free Recipes

  Copyright © 2017 by Tica House Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.

  Ephesians 5:25

  Greta tried not to cry. She kept her face arranged in what she hoped was a pleasant expression.

  “What do you think?” Isaac asked her, leaning forward in his rocking chair.

  What did she think?

  He wouldn’t want to know. How could he even suggest that they forego a traditional wedding? This might be his second wedding, but it wasn’t hers. She’d dreamed all her life of her wedding. A proper wedding. Right there in her own home with the bishop and ministers and hundreds of guests.

  “Greta?” he questioned.

  She swallowed and looked down at her hands. She fidgeted with a fold of her apron.

  He waited.

  Finally, she spoke. “So, you’re suggesting that we get married in town? Without the bishop? Without my family?” Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together.

  He started rocking. Fast. His heavy black shoes pushed into the porch floor. The hoot of an owl sounded from somewhere nearby. It was a hollow sound, echoing its loneliness. Right then, Greta wanted to join the owl. There she was, sitting with her fiancé, and she’d never felt so alone in all her life.

  To even suggest such a thing, proved that Isaac didn’t know her at all.

  “It seems more appropriate,” he muttered.

  She glanced at him and saw his brow creased low on his forehead. The lantern didn’t shed enough light for her to see his eyes clearly. She knew he was nervous—that was evident by his almost frantic rocking. This conversation obviously wasn’t going as he expected.

  “Appropriate?” she questioned.

  He cleared his throat. “Me being such a recent widower and all,” he stumbled on. “This way, it would be simpler, less fuss.”

  “Simpler?” she repeated stupidly. “Less fuss?”

  Her mind had gone cold, and she found herself quite unable to think.

  “Greta?”

  She licked her lips. “What?”

  “Don’t you think so? It seems to be a gut choice.”

  She stared at him. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sit there and allow him to take their wedding, her wedding, and reduce it to standing in some Englisch establishment, making a promise to some Englisch judge. Had he gone mad? What would the people think? What would the bishop think?

  She slowly stood and faced him.

  “Nee,” she said, her body stiff with the effort. “Nee.”

  His eyes widened, and he gulped. “But Greta—”

  “Nee!” she said again, forcefully now. Biting back a sob, she ran into the house and up the stairs. She burst through the door of her room and threw herself on the bed.

  When she’d promised Isaac’s dying wife that she’d marry Isaac upon Betty’s death, she had no idea what that would mean. She’d only wanted to comfort her dearest friend during the last hours of her life. But now that Greta actually loved Isaac, now that marrying him wasn’t just an obligation—at least, as far as she was concerned—she had opened herself to a vulnerability she’d never imagined.

  She knew Isaac didn’t love her. But she had hoped his love would grow as they planned their wedding and married life together. In her foolish imagination, she’d envisioned him hugging her affectionately at the close of the day. She’d envisioned him kissing her with deep tenderness. She’d envisioned the two of them living happily ever after, raising babies of their own.

  Well. She was wrong.

  He didn’t even want a proper wedding. She sat up on the quilt and drew her knees to her chin. She put her arms around her legs and told herself to stop crying. She wasn’t a child. And in all fairness, Isaac had made it clear from the start that he didn’t love her, so he hadn’t been deceptive. He was simply fulfilling their deathbed promise to his first wife. But still… Did that mean he shouldn’t consider her wishes at all? Was he really so crass as to suggest that her first wedding, what Greta hoped would be her only wedding, was to take place in a Hollybrook courtroom?

  Her tears started in again. Her father would come unglued if he found out. He was still grumbling because she’d chosen Isaac over Todd Fisher.

  Greta got up and walked to her window. Todd Fisher. Todd liked her, and she liked him. But when Isaac had returned from Ohio bent on fulfilling their promise to Betty, Greta had turned her back on Todd.

  She had found it easy.

  She moaned. Todd Fisher would never expect her to give up the wedding of her dreams.

  Greta put her hand over her mouth and sucked in her breath. What was she doing? She couldn’t stand there and compare the two of them. It was wrong. Deeply wrong. She blinked back her tears and stared out into the night. The moon shone easily through the near-naked trees, splattering splotches of light onto the ground. Greta opened the window an inch and breathed in the night air. A movement caught her eye.

  She looked more closely and saw that it was Isaac taking his leave. He walked slowly across the yard toward his buggy. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted. Worn down. She pressed her hand against the window pane and felt the cool glass beneath her fingers. It was her fault. Now, she regretted running from him. He’d gone through so much, and she was adding to his burdens, instead of helping to relieve them. Shame washed through her.

  “I’m sorry, Isaac,” she whispered against the window. “I’m sorry.”

  Her lips quivered as she realized what she had to do. The next day, she had to tell him that she would marry him however he chose. He was to be the head of their family—it was ordained by God. If that meant giving up her dream wedding, then so be it.

  Greta didn’t sleep well that night. She wrestled with herself well into the wee hours of the morning. She had decided what she would do, but she wasn’t happy about it. It tormented her in the darkness. And she dreaded informing her father.

  When she went down in the morning to work on breakfast, she nearly bumped into her dad as he came in from outside.

  “About time you got up,” he said, glowering at her. He handed her a basket with nine eggs. “The leghorn is la
ying again.”

  “That’s gut news,” Greta responded, taking the basket. She glanced at her father’s stern face. Even on his best days, when he was feeling more mobile, he was still crotchety. Greta had learned to live with his surliness, though she didn’t like it. But what would he say to her wedding news? She cringed at the thought.

  “When did Isaac leave?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t late.”

  “He’s over an awful lot.”

  “Dat, we’re getting married. You know that.”

  He gave a short grunt. She screwed up her courage and put her hand on his arm. He looked at her.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the wedding…”

  He held up his hand. “I know your mamm ain’t here.” He paused. “But your sisters can help you. The gut Lord knows they ain’t hardly around. Not for me, anyway. But they’ll come through for you.”

  She swallowed and blew out her breath. His eyes narrowed.

  “You don’t think they’ll do a gut job?” he asked. “I’ll make sure they do. You don’t got to fret.” He shuffled toward the dining table, and she heard him mumble under his breath, “Still don’t know why you ain’t marrying Todd. He’s the better choice.”

  Greta stared at his back and couldn’t continue. She simply couldn’t tell her father that Isaac didn’t want a proper Amish wedding. Her father already thought she’d made the wrong choice. This would add way too much fuel to his fire.

  “I’m sure my sisters will help me just fine,” Greta said, moving past the table and going into the kitchen. But her dad was right; her married sisters, Rebecca and Mary, didn’t come around much. It wasn’t hard to understand why. They knew they’d only face a barrage of criticism from their father if they did. They’d seen the way he had grown more and more sour, and they’d gotten out while they could.

  Which brought up another issue. What was Greta going to do with her father when she moved to Isaac’s house? Raymond Glick couldn’t be left alone, no matter what he thought. He simply wasn’t capable of taking care of himself or the place. Todd Fisher saw to the land and the barn and even many of the animals, but without her there, her dad wouldn’t even eat his meals every day.

  She needed to speak with Isaac about this. She sighed and got out a bowl to make scrambled eggs. She’d go see Isaac after her morning chores. He’d probably be working in the fields, preparing them for winter. She wished he’d brought little James with him when he’d returned, but she understood why he hadn’t. Until they married, he thought the baby was better off staying with his grandparents in Ohio. In truth, Greta would have been glad to see to James in the meantime, but Isaac thought it more proper that she didn’t spend all day at his house before they were wed.

  Greta grimaced. If she and Isaac went through with his wedding plans, they could get married right away. There was no need to delay. No need to prepare the huge amounts of food necessary for a wedding. No need to make a new dress for the occasion.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She’d always wanted a new deep blue dress for her wedding. And a new black kapp, too. She supposed neither was necessary if all she was going to do was stand in some room before some judge. She cracked another egg into the bowl, but her hand slipped and she ended up dropping the crushed shells right into the bowl.

  “Ach!” she scolded herself. “Now, look what you’ve done.”

  She worked to pick out the pieces of shell, one by one.

  Chapter Two

  Unmoving, Old Mae’s granddaughter, Abigail, stared at the ceiling. She was chilled, but she made no effort to pull the quilt back over her legs. She held her latest letter to her chest, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath her fingers. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. She’d cried plenty the night before. She’d cried until her eyes got puffy and her nose ran. She’d been a right mess.

  All over Isaac Wagner.

  She blew out her breath in a heaving sigh. She supposed there were no tears left, which was just as well. Her grandmother was still in her bedroom across the hall, and she’d surely hear her. The night before, Old Mae had fallen asleep downstairs by the warming stove. That was the only reason Abigail’s crying torrent had gone unwitnessed.

  Abigail knew she’d been taking a chance to come back to Hollybrook from Pennsylvania. Joshua had been angry with her when she’d announced her intention, and rightly so. They’d begun courting again, after his betrayal kiss with Esther Brin all those months ago. Abigail had thought she was happy about resuming her relationship with Joshua. He was deadly handsome, and could charm her all the way back across the United States. But when she’d returned to Pennsylvania, she realized that she’d left her heart in Indiana.

  With Isaac Wagner.

  She closed her eyes. She’d had no intention of falling for him. At first, she didn’t know him at all, but after being with him day after day while she cared for his dying wife Betty, she’d gotten a fairly good look inside his heart and mind. He was gentle and strong and good-looking. She had fallen for him within days.

  But then, Betty had to go and ruin it all. If only she hadn’t insisted that Isaac and Greta promise to marry each other upon her death. If only…

  Abigail suspected that Greta did love Isaac, if the look on her face whenever she gazed at him was any indication. Abigail’s hands curled into fists. But then, she loved him, too. Why couldn’t she have a chance?

  And now, there she was. Back in Hollybrook because she’d fallen in love with a widower who was engaged to someone else. How in the world had she gotten herself into such a fix? The letter on her chest made a rustling sound, and she unfolded it again and held it up to read it once more.

  Dear Abigail,

  I haven’t heard from you. I thought you would at least write. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand why you needed to go back to Indiana. And so soon. You barely were home at all.

  Is there something I don’t know? Something you’re not telling me? Is Mae ill? Is she dying? I know she’s quite old. But if that was it, why wouldn’t you tell me? There has to be something else going on?

  Is there another man?

  Abigail sucked in her breath. She hadn’t said one word about Isaac to Joshua.

  If there is, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?

  Was I crazy to hope, Abigail? Was I crazy to think that we could start over? I thought you wanted to. I did. And you came back with me. Your parents are in favor. You know that, don’t you?

  I’ll be inheriting my father’s acreage. My sisters are already set. This whole farm will be mine someday. I’d hoped we could raise our family here.

  There was some scratching out and erasing after that part. Abigail had tried to read through it, but she couldn’t. She had no idea what Joshua had written and then erased. She dropped the letter back on her chest. She didn’t need to keep reading. She already knew how the letter ended.

  Write back, Abigail.

  I need to know what you’re thinking. How you’re doing.

  My love,

  Joshua

  What she was thinking… Abigail turned her head to the side. She was thinking that she was a fool. A sad, sad fool. Deep in her heart of hearts, she’d known Isaac would honor his promise to his dead wife. She’d known. So why had she come back? And what was she planning to do? Throw herself at his feet and beg him to consider her instead of Greta?

  She grabbed Joshua’s letter, wadding it into a ball. She stuffed it into her bedside table and got up. Wallowing around in bed for half the morning would solve nothing. She thought she heard Old Mae stirring, anyway.

  She padded across the hall and poked her head inside her grandmother’s room. Mae was standing by the window, holding the curtains back, peering outside.

  “Mammi?”

  “Gut morning,” Old Mae said, turning toward her with a smile. “It’s beautiful outside. The leaves are sure turning.”

  Abigail nodded and joined her grandmother at the window. “It is pretty.”


  “I’m expectin’ to deliver Emma Rhodes today. Will you come?”

  “She due already?”

  “Jah. I’ve been expecting her to go into labor for three or four days now, but I get the feelin’ that today’s the day.”

  “How many is this now?”

  “It’ll be her fifth.” Old Mae chuckled. “She’s still young. I imagine she’s got a few more to come.”

  Abigail smiled. She wondered if she’d ever have one baby. She gave a soft snort. She needed a husband first.

  Old Mae was studying her. “What is it, child?”

  Abigail blanched. “Nothing,” she said quickly, leaving the window. “I’ll get dressed and start breakfast.”

  “Gather the eggs first.”

  “I will.” Abigail left the room. Her grandmother was much too perceptive, and Abigail didn’t want her to know how long she’d cried the night before. Otherwise, she might guess the reason.

  Abigail went into her room to dress and then headed to the bathroom before going downstairs. A restlessness filled her, and she moved faster than normal, as if she had a mountain of work to do that day. She hurried out to the coop, only to realize that she’d neglected to bring the basket along. Well, she could gather the eggs in her apron; she’d done that plenty of times.

  The hens were not happy to be disrupted. Abigail clucked back at them and snatched the eggs. When one of the hens pecked her finger, she paused.

  “You’re right.” She looked into the hen’s beady eyes. “I’m being rough. Ach, don’t worry. It’s not you I’m upset about. It’s me.”

  She proceeded to the next nesting box but was much more gentle in her gathering this time. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Forget about Isaac and move on?

  Because it wasn’t in her nature, that was why. Whatever the outcome, she was going to go visit Isaac.