Amish Romance: The Wedding (Hollybrook Amish Romance Greta's Story Book 3) Page 6

  Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered how her mother used to float around the house, working in a way that looked easy and graceful. Greta had no idea how she did it. Life wasn’t easy. It was full of heavy chores and many duties. But Greta’s mother—she flowed with such ease. Greta wanted to be like her. She wanted to emanate that peace and purpose.

  Dear Gott, let me be a gut wife to Isaac. Let me be a gut mother to James. Oh, Lord Gott, let this marriage be blessed in your sight.

  Greta wiped the tear that slid down her cheek.

  “Greta?” Mary pushed her bedroom door open. “People are arriving. It’s already after seven. We only have an hour and a half before the service starts.”

  Greta drew in a deep breath. “Is Isaac here yet?”

  Mary shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’ve only been in the kitchen.”

  “Do you need my help?” Greta asked, hoping she would say no. She wasn’t sure she was quite ready to go downstairs.

  “You’re the bride,” Mary said. “I’m thinking you don’t have to work.”

  “Is Rebecca in the kitchen?”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Bossing everyone around, she is.”

  Greta laughed. “She’s just nervous, I’m sure.”

  Mary tilted her head and shrugged.

  “Thank you.” Greta stood. “Thank you for all of your work.”

  Mary swished Greta’s thanks away with a swipe of her arm. “I hear Dat is moving in with you and Isaac and the boppli.”

  Greta nodded. “I didn’t expect him to. I thought he’d prefer to stay put. But he seemed all right with it after Isaac talked to him.”

  “It’s just as well. He can’t stay here alone.”

  “He could go with you or Rebecca,” Greta said, already knowing how Mary would react to the suggestion.

  Mary made a distasteful face, screwing her mouth into a frown. “He wouldn’t be happy with us,” she complained.

  No, you wouldn’t be happy with him, Greta thought, but said nothing.

  “It’s best he stays with you. He’s used to you,” Mary went on.

  Greta dropped the subject. “Will you give me a few more minutes? I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Jah. Fine. I just wanted you to know that people are arriving.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mary smiled and backed out of the room. Greta went to the window and watched as buggy after buggy pulled into their yard. There would be a large crowd that day. Her sisters planned on feeding more than two hundred people. They’d borrowed the benches from the district, and they were set up throughout the house.

  Greta’s heart beat faster as she slipped on her black high-topped shoes. She’d polished them to a glossy sheen for the wedding. Then she put on her apron, fastening it securely. A short cape completed her wedding attire. She was glad she’d chosen the blue fabric for her dress. Just looking at it made her happy. And she’d chosen well for her sisters’ dresses also. They were to be her newehockers.

  “Greta!” It was Mary calling up the stairs. “He’s here!”

  Greta’s breathing increased. Isaac. He had arrived. And James. And all of Isaac’s family, no doubt. She knew Isaac’s brothers were serving as his newehockers for the service. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and went down the stairs.

  She saw the four couples she and Isaac had chosen for the forgehers. They were already busy ushering the guests inside and to their spots on the benches. And then she saw him. He stood next to the door, greeting the guests. James was in his arms, happily gurgling and waving and jabbering.

  Isaac turned and saw her. She gave a quick intake of breath. He was so handsome. He wore a black suit and vest with a white shirt. His shoes were the traditional black, and she saw that they had been newly shined, too. He had donned a bow tie for the occasion, and she knew it would probably be the only time in her life that she would see him wearing one. His black hat sat squarely on his head. But it was his eyes that truly arrested her.

  She saw a glint of wonder there. Greta’s face went hot, and she knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t take her eyes from his. She saw the tenderness in his gaze, and her eyes grew misty. A rush of love for him took hold of her so strongly that her legs nearly buckled. She gripped the stairway railing as if her life depended on it.

  Please love me, she thought. Please love me back.

  She blinked rapidly. She didn’t want to think such thoughts—not on her wedding day. If she let her mind go down that trail, she wouldn’t be able to get through it.

  Isaac left his position by the door and walked over to her.

  “Gut morning, Greta,” he murmured, his voice low.

  She licked her lips and gave him a shy smile, feeling completely self-conscious. “Gut morning.”

  James reached out to her, and she took him, holding him close. “How are you, James? Did you sleep well?”

  Helen Wagner appeared and took the boy from her. “He’ll get your lovely dress mussed,” she said. “Let me take him.”

  Greta understood the woman’s need to hold the baby as much as she could. Soon, they’d be apart again.

  “Thank you, Helen,” Greta murmured.

  “Will you help me greet the guests?” Isaac asked her. He held out his hand, and she took it, surprised that he’d offered. But then, it was their wedding day, and no one would look askance if they were holding hands.

  She stood next to him and greeted the guests. It wasn’t long before the house was crowded and the noise of chatting and laughter filled the space. Greta smiled. It had been a long time since there’d been that much excitement and happiness in the house. She was acutely aware of Isaac by her side. Every now and again, he brushed up against her, and it was as if she was touched by fire. She wanted to lean against him, feel him more deeply, bury herself in him. The intensity of her feelings scared her, and she turned stiff as she stood there.

  Isaac kept glancing down at her, and she knew that he’d sensed her discomfort. He was wondering at her, but she had no idea how to set his mind at ease. She didn’t know how to set her own mind at ease. She gave him a tremulous smile, but he was clearly worried.

  By the time it was nearly eight-thirty, she was exhausted. David Hock, one of the ministers, came to get them. Greta heard the people begin to sing hymns as she and Isaac were ushered into the wash room where chairs had been set up for them. They sat and David began to counsel them on marriage. Greta hardly heard him. She stared straight ahead, nodding at the appropriate times, smiling when necessary, and murmuring her agreement.

  All she could think of was, this is it. This was the day she had waited for her entire life. Nothing was more precious, more blessed, than giving herself in marriage to a good man. Nothing was more beautiful than bringing children into the world and training them up as good Amish people.

  She glanced at Isaac and saw the look of solemnity on his face. He was apt, listening to David.

  But he’d been through this before. Nothing new for him.

  Her heart squeezed within her. But for her? It was all new. Would she disappoint Isaac? And what about their wedding night? Would she be a disappointment there as well?

  Her face burned, and she stared down at her feet.

  “Shall we?” David said.

  Greta looked up, confused. Shall we what? She hadn’t been listening. Isaac rose to his feet, so she quickly did the same. David led them back into the service, where they sat within the crowd. After they were seated, Bishop gave a prayer and read a passage of Scripture. Then he began his sermon.

  Greta tried to relax. The sermon would be long, well over an hour. Maybe two. She couldn’t sit with such stiffness or she’d never be able to get up to make her promises. She lowered her shoulders and forced herself to take slow, even breaths. Rebecca caught her eye and smiled.

  That helped. Greta smiled back.

  She was right. The sermon was nearly two hours long. And then Bishop asked her and Isaac to rise and come forward. They both ro
se and made their way through the crowd to the front of the room.

  Tears welled in Greta’s eyes as Bishop spoke with them. He asked them questions about their intentions toward one another, and he blessed them. Then it was time for other ordained men to come forward to give testimonies about marriage. Greta listened to them, trying to concentrate on their words. But all she could think about was Isaac. How she loved him. How she would now live with him.

  She was surprised when her father went forward and spoke. Of course, he wasn’t ordained, but fathers of the bride or groom often spoke. Greta was even more surprised when he spoke words of kindness about her and her mother, about marriage in general. Greta nearly lost what little composure she had then. She wanted to burst into tears and run into her father’s arms. Unheard of, really. She hadn’t wanted to run into his arms since she was a young child.

  Isaac seemed to sense her emotion because he sidled up to her a bit closer, as if telling her that he was there. He was with her.

  Which made her want to cry even harder.

  The bishop gave the final prayer, and it was done.

  Isaac took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Hello, Mrs. Wagner,” he murmured.

  She smiled.

  Within seconds, everyone in the room sprang into action. The women hustled to the kitchen to get the food. The men grabbed up the benches, rearranging them in a U around the walls of the room.

  “We’re to sit in the eck, you know,” Isaac told her.

  He guided her to the corner where the hastily set up tables met, and they sat. It was the place of honor. Greta watched the flurry of activity as the women brought out roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed celery, coleslaw, applesauce, cherry pie, donuts, and fruit salad. The tables were quickly laden with food.

  Greta watched it all—watched the people sit in their designated spots, and she felt dizzy. Her eyes searched for James, but she didn’t see him. He was no doubt in the kitchen with Helen. Her life would never be the same. She glanced up at Isaac and gazed at his handsome profile. She loved his strong jaw, his thin nose, and his warm brown eyes. She could never get enough of looking at him.

  People around them laughed and joked and passed the food, heaping their plates full. Greta didn’t know if she could eat a thing. Her stomach was a mass of butterflies, and her throat was tight. This is ridiculous, she scolded herself. This is your wedding day. You need to enjoy it.

  She took a forkful of potatoes and put them in her mouth. There.

  She felt Isaac watching her. And then he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. The entire room went silent. Greta blinked rapidly. What was he doing? This wasn’t the normal course of events.

  “I’m sure you’ll all excuse my bride and me for a moment or two,” he announced.

  Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed them as Isaac took her from the room, out the front door, and down the porch steps. Greta scurried to keep up with him as he pulled on her hand. He didn’t stop until they were hidden behind the massive rows of buggies.

  “Isaac? What—”

  He pressed two fingers to her lips, quieting her.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, dropping her hand and taking off his hat. His eyes searched hers, and she immediately became nervous. He looked so serious.

  Was he already regretting their marriage?

  She swallowed hard against the growing lump of tears in her throat. “What is it?” she eked out.

  “You know how much I loved Betty…”

  Greta tensed.

  “…and you know how much I grieved when she died.” He paused and ran his hand through his hair. “You were there. So much of the time.”

  She had been there. She had witnessed his pain. She nodded and held her breath.

  “I know you’re worried. About us, I mean.” He took one of her hands in his. She felt his hand shake as it held hers.

  “Do you love me, Greta?”

  Her eyes stretched wide. They hadn’t talked much of love. Greta hadn’t dared. Once, Isaac had told her that with time, he could grow to love her. But she couldn’t bear to talk of it any further with him. She couldn’t open herself to such hurt, over and over again.

  She cast her eyes down. “Jah,” she murmured. “I love you.”

  He touched her chin with two fingers, bringing her face up to look at his. She bit back her tears, and her gaze was steady.

  “Greta?” he whispered.

  She continued to look at him.

  “I love you, too.”

  She blinked rapidly. How she wanted to believe him. More than anything in the world, she wanted to believe him. But as she stood there staring at him, she was filled with doubt. She hated it, but it was true. She doubted him.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said. “I see it in your eyes.”

  Her lips parted. When she began to speak, he pressed his fingers gently to her mouth once again.

  “I don’t blame you. The whole way our marriage has come about has been … different. I know you think I felt obligated to marry you. And at first, that was true.”

  She winced and then quickly tried to hide her reaction.

  “Nee. It’s all right. I know it has caused you pain.” He bent closer. “But something happened. The day we went to get James. You remember…”

  She didn’t take her eyes from his face. What did he mean? What was he talking about?

  “I saw the love on your face for my boy.” He blew out his breath. “I saw how tender you were with him, how joyous you were to see him. And…” He coughed and couldn’t continue. His eyes filled with tears.

  She waited and again, held her breath.

  “And I wanted it…” His words were stilted as if he was having trouble getting them out. “I wanted it for myself. Your love. Your tenderness.”

  She couldn’t stop herself. She clutched his arm.

  “I realized right then what an amazing person you are. I realized right then that I wanted to make you happy. I wanted you in my life. I wanted you…” He stopped.

  “You wanted me…?”

  With a gasp, he pulled her roughly to him, folding her into his arms. He rocked her back and forth. “Greta, Greta,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. Her heart raced.

  He backed away and leaned down close. The touch of his lips on hers sent a shock wave through her entire body. Crushing her to him, Isaac pressed his mouth more firmly to hers. Her emotions whirled and skidded as she returned his kiss.

  Finally, raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. “I do love you, Greta.”

  And this time … this time, she believed him. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she nodded, smiling.

  “I wanted you to know.” He clasped her hand and put his hat back on. “Now, I imagine the tongues inside the house are wagging.”

  She laughed, wiping at her tears with the back of her other hand. “Jah. I imagine they are.”

  “But I had to talk to you… I had to.” He squeezed her hand. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she whispered.

  “Are you ready now? Are you ready to go back in and continue the celebration?” His brown eyes searched hers.

  She nodded. “Jah. I’m ready.”

  As they returned to the house, Greta felt a lightness in her step. Truth be told, she felt as if she were floating. She clasped Isaac’s hand even tighter.

  And when they walked back inside the house, she giggled.

  The End

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for reading The Promise! If you haven’t yet read Greta’s Story #1: Replacement Wife, you can find it HERE! And you can find Greta’s Story #2: The Promise, HERE! Enjoy!

  If you’ve read all three books of Greta’s Story, why not read The Amish Beekeeper? Here’s a sample for you:

  Winnie Hilty’s arthritic hand darted out and batted at her daughter’s shoulder.

  “I hear them,” her voice scratched out. “Get them off of you. Get them
off!” She grew increasingly agitated. “It’s the buzzing! It won’t stop.”

  “Mamm,” Rhoda said, her voice soft and crooning. “There are no bees on me. They’re all outside.” She grabbed her mother’s thin hands and pressed them to the old woman’s lap. “Don’t fret so. Everything’s fine.”

  Winnie’s watery eyes stared into Rhoda’s. There was a blankness there that grabbed Rhoda’s heart. Her mother was worse—and she was getting worse every day.

  “Come on,” Rhoda said, putting her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to the kitchen. You can sit by the warming stove, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.”

  Winnie blinked in confusion as Rhoda gently guided her into the kitchen.

  “Sit here, Mamm. It’s nice and warm.” Rhoda placed her mother in the old white rocker. It barely moved under Winnie’s slight weight.

  There was a fire going in the stove, albeit a small one. Being only October it hadn’t really turned cold yet, but Rhoda knew that Winnie felt every breeze as if it were a rush of ice. Even now, she shivered under Rhoda’s hands.

  The kettle on the stove whistled, and Rhoda made a hot cup of chamomile tea for her mother. Old Mae, the healing woman in their district, claimed that chamomile tea cured every ailment known to man. Rhoda gave a wry smile. It wouldn’t touch what ailed her mother, but it was a comfort nevertheless.

  “The bees?” Winnie asked. “I hear ’em.”

  “But Mamm, that’s not possible. They’re all out behind the barn. You know that.”

  “I hear ’em!” Winnie insisted. “Buzzing. All the time buzzing. Makes me dizzy.”

  Rhoda knew it would do no good to argue with her. Indeed, Rhoda had no interest in arguing at all.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll keep them quiet.”

  Winnie took a timid sip of the steaming tea. She rested the cup in the saucer on her lap. “Is there honey in the tea?” she asked. “Tastes right sweet.”