Anna Schmidt - A Groom for Greta

The Wedding That Wasn’t

Everyone in their small Amish community expects Greta Goodloe to marry her longtime sweetheart—Greta included. So when he publicly ends their engagement, in front of newcomer Luke Starns no less, she is utterly humiliated. At least she can take comfort in matchmaking between Luke and her quiet schoolmarm sister. Yet the more she tries to throw them together, the more Luke fascinates her.

A serious, no-nonsense schoolmarm should be exactly what Luke wants in a wife. Still, he can’t help but be charmed by Greta’s warm smile and impulsive ways. Does he dare to stray from the sensible choice and take a chance on happiness?

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we, Luke Starns?”

“How so?”

“Each of us being so certain that we were on the right path. Neither one of us prepared in the least for the bumps and gullies along the way.”

“You will find what you want—what God wants for you,” Luke assured Greta.

“And you?” She was nothing if not persistent.

He shrugged and concentrated on completing his work on the bridle bit, more to avoid her eyes than because the work was urgent.

“You know,” she said wistfully as she looked out toward the street, “Josef was not only the man I thought I would marry. He and Lydia have always been my two best friends. Now there is just Lydia.”

Her voice trailed off as she continued staring out at the street. He watched her for a moment, trying to decide if she might be shedding more tears over Bontrager. But she seemed calm and if not serene, then at least resigned. He wiped his hands on a rag as he walked to where she stood.

“I would be your friend, Greta Goodloe,” he said softly.

ANNA SCHMIDT

is an award-winning author of more than twenty-five works of historical and contemporary fiction. She is a two-time finalist for a coveted RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America, as well as a four-time finalist for an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award. Her most recent RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice nomination was for her 2008 Love Inspired Historical novel, Seaside Cinderella, which is the first of a series of four historical novels set on the romantic island of Nantucket. Critics have called Anna “a natural writer, spinning tales reminiscent of old favorites like Miracle on 34th Street.” Her characters have been called “realistic” and “endearing” and one reviewer raved, “I love Anna Schmidt’s style of writing!”

A Groom for Greta

Anna Schmidt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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But you delight in sincerity of heart

and in secret you teach me wisdom

—Psalms 51:6

For Larry

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Celery Fields, Florida

Summer 1934

Luke Starns hammered the molten iron into shape, the sound of metal on metal ringing in his ears as the hammer struck the rod. He set the half-completed horseshoe on the white-hot fire and wiped his brow with the back of his bare forearm. Then he stretched as he pushed open the single window that offered relief from the shadowy darkness of his blacksmith shop and livery stable. He was hoping for a breeze, but this was Florida, not Ontario. And it was August, steamy and humid, and at four in the afternoon there was no sign of relief from the oppressive heat. He fanned himself with the wide-brimmed straw hat that was one of the unmistakable signs of his Amish heritage.

Business was slow but not nearly as slow as it was in the outside world—the rest of Florida. The economic depression that had gripped the entire United States had taken a huge toll on businesses and lives all across the state. Luke counted himself fortunate that he had skills that were still in demand—although with the growing number of cars and trucks crowding the roads, he wasn’t sure how long there would be enough customers to sustain his business.

He thought about taking a break, perhaps getting a dish of ice cream at the parlor next to the bakery. He wasn’t exactly dressed for shopping but it was late on a Saturday. Most everyone living in and around the Amish settlement of Celery Fields would have already headed home. As he rolled down the sleeves to his collarless shirt, he heard voices just outside the small window—a man and a woman—the man’s voice was stern and serious, the woman’s laughter was high-pitched and nervous.

“I can’t marry you, Greta Goodloe,” the man announced. Luke sighed. Quarrels between Greta and her long-time beau, Josef Bontrager, were so common that most of the townspeople tended to ignore them completely. Luke was inclined to agree that this was probably the best plan. He finished rolling down his sleeves and glanced out the window when he heard the soft plod of horse hooves in the sandy street and saw Bontrager’s dark buggy driving away. After that all was quiet.

Wiping his hands—black with the soot of his work—on a rag he kept hanging by the window, he removed his leather apron and checked the front of his homespun cotton shirt. Then he ran his fingers through his damp black hair and reached for his hat. A dish of Jeremiah Troyer’s vanilla ice cream was sounding better and better, but he wanted to at least make the effort to look decent before venturing out. His concern was not for himself, but he felt it was just good manners to make the effort for others. He was headed for the door of his shop when he heard a sound.

The two double doors to his blacksmith shop and livery stood fully ajar but there was no one there. At least that he could see. Then he heard the sound again. A soft keening like someone in pain. He moved closer to the door’s opening and there framed in the doorway, cast in silhouette by the late afternoon sun at her back, stood a woman—an unwed Amish woman, given the black ties of her prayer kapp that peeked out from beneath her bonnet. She was grasping the frame of the doorway.

Fearing that she had been struck ill or perhaps overcome by the heat, Luke rushed forward. On his way he grabbed the shop’s one battered chair. “Hold on,” he ordered, but before he could reach her, she took two steps forward and then started to crumple to the floor. Luke dropped the chair and caught the woman.

“What’s to become of me?” she whispered as she looked up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet with fathomless sea blue eyes that belonged to only one female in Celery Fields.

Greta Goodloe.

“Are you ill, Greta Goodloe?” he asked, raising his voice in case she might be on the verge of passing out. “Wounded? Have you been in an accident?”

“Oh, he’s broken it,” she moaned miserably, her voice choking on her sobs.

“Who? What is broken?”

She looked up at him, her eyes widening in what he could only describe as horror. With surprising strength for one so petite, she pushed him away and stood without support for the first time since entering his shop. She glanced around and seemed stunned to find herself there, but she no longer appeared to be in danger of passing out.