“Don’t tell Toby what I did.”
“It’s not my secret to share, but you need to tell him.”
“He might hate me.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I think he has a good heart, too. Can you go to sleep now?”
“I think so.”
“Goot.” Greta tucked her in and returned to her bed. It had been a long and eventful day, but if anything she said helped Marianne, it was worth the trip.
*
When Toby opened his eyes, it was already light outside. Surprised that he had slept so long, he glanced at the other bed. Morris was already up and gone. Dressing quickly, Toby opened the motel room door and surveyed the parking lot. The sky was heavily overcast with a cold north wind whipping across the pavement. There were a dozen cars lined up in front of the building, but there was no sign of the elderly man. Toby heard the door to Greta’s room open and he winced. “Great. Some caretaker I turned out to be.”
Greta stepped out, caught sight of him and smiled brightly. Just as quickly, she blushed a becoming shade of pink and looked down. Did that mean she liked him? He hoped so because he liked her. Marianne came out behind her with her nightclothes in her hand. She raced to his side and threw her arms around him.
He smiled warmly at Greta. “Good morning.”
“Good cold morning.” She pulled her coat more tightly around her. “Where are Arles and my uncle?”
“I think they may be having a free cup of coffee in the lobby. I’ll go see.”
He wanted to check there before he admitted he had no idea where her uncle was. He prayed the ill old man was all right.
Arles was sitting alone at a small table with a foam cup in front of him reading the paper when Toby checked the small room. “Arles, have you seen Morris?”
“Mr. Barkman? No.”
That wasn’t what Toby wanted to hear.
Arles took a sip of coffee and then said, “The van is unlocked. Can I have my spare key back?”
“Sure.” Toby fished it from his pocket and handed it over. Arles had given it to him so he could check on the cat through the night.
Toby left him and stopped at the front desk, but the clerk on duty hadn’t seen Morris, either. Toby paid his bill. When he came out of the building, he saw Greta and Marianne standing beside the open door of the van. It looked as if Marianne was sobbing. He broke into a run.
Chapter Ten
“Marianne, what’s wrong?” Toby asked when he reached her side.
“Christmas is gone,” she managed between sobs.
Toby looked at Greta for an explanation. She said, “She’s not in her box.”
“She was there when I checked on her at two last night. Maybe she’s hiding under the seats, or maybe she got in back with the luggage somehow.”
They searched the interior of the van to no avail. The cat wasn’t inside. Toby carefully lifted the hatch to the luggage compartment, prepared to close it if he saw the animal. Nothing moved. He raised the lid higher and checked behind the bags.
Greta paused with her hand on a black suitcase she was about to move aside. “This is my uncle’s.”
“He must’ve loaded them himself. I didn’t do it. He was already gone when I woke up. I’m afraid I didn’t keep a very good eye on him,” Toby admitted.
“Oh, dear.”
The look on her face said she was thinking the same thing he was. “Do you think he let the cat out by accident when he put his bags in?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I doubt it was an accident. He wasn’t happy having her along.”
“There she is!” Marianne took off toward the rear of the building. Morris was coming around the corner from the back. Christmas, wearing her white bonnet bandage and pink harness, walked beside him. He had her leash in his hand. The cat lay down and offered her tummy for scratching as Marianne reached her.
“It seems we judged your uncle unfairly.” Toby said, happy to see everyone was in good shape.
Greta crossed her arms. A faint scowl put a crease between her brows. “It appears that I did. This time.”
Toby wondered again at the cause of the tension between Greta and her uncle. She seemed determined to think the worst of him.
*
Greta couldn’t believe her eyes. Her uncle had taken the cat for a walk. Why? What did he hope to gain? Did he believe the cat would warn him of an impending attack? In that case, she could understand why he would take a stroll with Christmas. She knew he hadn’t done it solely for the cat’s welfare.
“Thank you for taking Christmas for a walk.” Marianne accepted the lead from Morris and picked up the cat.
“She has done her business. Perhaps now we can get going.”
His gruff tone made it sound as if he didn’t care about the cat, but Greta saw him pet Christmas briefly before walking to the van and getting in.
“Your uncle likes Christmas,” Marianne said with a smile.
“It would appear that he does,” Greta agreed, reluctant to disillusion the child.
Toby ran a hand over the faint stubble on his cheek. “I’ve already checked out, but I still need to finish getting ready. I don’t normally oversleep like this. Here comes Arles. Don’t let him leave without me.”
As Toby disappeared inside his room, Greta paid her bill and returned to the van. Arles was already in the driver’s seat, impatient to get going. “I’ve got breakfast for everyone.” He handed back a small white sack that contained an assortment of bagels and cans of juice.
Her uncle and Marianne each chose something without complaint. Greta took what was left and headed to the rear seat. As he had the day before, Toby joined her. He had a small patch of tissue stuck to his chin. He had barely taken his seat before Arles had them on the road again.
Toby nodded toward Marianne. “My sister looks much more rested today.”
“So do you,” Greta said, studying his handsome face.
“No longer haggard to the point of collapse?” he asked with a teasing grin.
“I would say bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“Taking a two-minute shower and shave will do that to a fellow.” He pulled the bit of tissue free and turned his chin toward her. “Has it stopped bleeding?”
“Ja, it looks like you will live.” She handed him the sack. “Arles splurged on breakfast for all of us. Bagels and juice.”
“For the price he’s charging for this trip, he should.” Taking the sack, he peered inside. “Did you have yours?”
“Not yet. I didn’t know if you wanted the blueberry or the raisin-cinnamon one.”
He handed the bag back to her. “Pick which one you like and I’ll take what’s left.”
She hesitated and then leaned forward. “Marianne, does your brother like blueberries or raisins better?”
She looked over the seat. “He hates raisins.”
“Danki, that’s what I needed to know.” Greta extracted the cinnamon-raisin bagel and handed the sack to him.
Taking it, he said, “I would have eaten it if you wanted the blueberry one.”
“I’m not fond of blueberries except in pie. Apple juice or orange juice?” She held up the cans.
“You pick.”
“I asked first.”
“Apple,” he said quickly.
She pulled both cans to her chest. “Oh, that’s the one I wanted.”
“Then give me the orange.”
“But I like that one, too.”
His smile widened making his eyes sparkle with amusement. “I don’t really care which one you want. You can have both.”
Greta held out the apple juice. “Since I told you to pick, you can have it.”
“I’ll share with you,” he offered.
“I was just teasing you. I like orange juice better.”
“Sometimes, women are too complex for me.”
Greta observed her uncle turn around and speak with Marianne as the van rol
led down the highway. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be having an animated conversation. She cast a covert glance at the man beside her. He, too, was watching her uncle and his sister intently.
She liked Toby, far more than she should after knowing him for such a brief period of time. There was something about being cocooned together in the back of the van that made his companionship comfortable. That, and she found him attractive.
She liked the way his smile curved up one cheek and then the other to reveal a full-blown grin with a dimple on his left cheek. He had a keen mind and a good sense of humor, and she would never see him again after today. The thought was sad but liberating. She didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t.
“You’re not very close to your uncle, are you?”
His blunt question startled her. She opened her mouth to deny it, but hadn’t she just told herself she didn’t have to pretend? It didn’t matter what Toby Yoder thought of her or of her uncle. She turned in her seat so she could face him. “We’re not close.”
“Were you ever?” His gaze was fixed on his sister.
“Nee, we never have been. I tried very hard to make him like me when I was Marianne’s age, but it didn’t matter what I did. It’s a shame, because we are all the family that he has left.”
She hadn’t been able to win her uncle’s love. Was the fault his, or was there something wrong with her? It seemed that she was always the one who sparked his anger. Anger that spilled over onto her sisters, too.
“I can assure you that I care deeply about my sister.”
Greta gave Toby a tentative smile. “I have seen that, too, yet something is wrong between you.”
“She is terrified if I’m out of her sight, but she blames me for the death of our parents. I don’t know how to help her accept that it was God’s will.”
“Have you accepted it?”
He turned to study her intently. “Are you always so blunt?”
She looked away, aware that she had stepped over the line in questioning his faith. “I apologize.”
“Don’t be sorry. I know only God has the power of life and death. I believe that. For some reason, God wanted my folks to be with Him sooner than I would’ve liked. He spared my sister. For that I am truly grateful, but I don’t know why He left me unscathed.”
“Perhaps He knew you needed to be strong for Marianne.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t think I’m strong enough.”
“You must not give up on her. Eventually, her heart will heal just as the burns on her face and neck will heal. If you weren’t home, why is it that you blame yourself?”
“You don’t leave any stone unturned, do you?”
“You can tell me to mind my own business.”
“Maybe I should.”
“Maybe you should. Or maybe you should talk about it. Things that hide in the dark frighten us until we shine a light into that dark corner. Then we see that there was nothing to be frightened of, after all.” She was better at giving advice than she was at living it.
“Is it really that easy?”
“Give it a try.”
He drew a deep breath. “My father and I worked at a small furniture factory outside of Quarryville, Pennsylvania. He was a master carver. God gave him a great talent. He taught me a lot, but I never had his gift. I didn’t try to love and understand the wood the way he did. The owner was an Englisch fellow. He liked to hire the Amish because he didn’t have to pay us as much as Englisch workers. When the economy took a turn for the worse, he closed up shop and we were without work. Things got very difficult.”
“Times have been tough for many Amish and Englisch families.”
“I had a friend who had moved to Indiana. He was working in one of the RV factories. I couldn’t believe the wages he was being paid. He said he had work for all of us. I convinced my parents to move to Fort Wayne. It wasn’t easy, but finally we had no choice. It was move or become a drain on my mother’s family who were helping to support us. Father couldn’t stand that.”
He fell silent. Greta could see he was struggling to find the right words. “You were trying to help your family. There is no shame in that.”
“I know. I did think I had helped. We found an old farmhouse to rent, and Daed and I both got jobs. The pay was good. The work wasn’t hard, but my father hated it. He said it had no soul. He wanted to move back and start carving again.”
“And you didn’t.”
“I was too busy enjoying having money for the first time in my life. I was in my rumspringa. I had friends. We went to parties. We went to movies. It was great. The more my parents hinted that I should join the church, the more I refused to listen. I wasn’t home the night of the fire. I wasn’t there to save them.”
“What would have happened to Marianne if you had perished, too?”
“I want to believe that I was spared so that I could take care of her. More than anything, I want her to be the happy girl who used to come running to see me when I stopped in to visit. But I’m afraid all she will ever see is the selfish brother who brought disaster down on her.”
Greta reached out and covered his hand with hers. “She’s young. Time will heal both of you.”
“I know one thing. I’m never leaving her again. My rumspringa is over. We will have a simple Amish life among my mother’s people.”
“Goot.”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “You have a talent for this. For helping.”
“Have I helped you?” She tried to ignore the thrill that raced through her at his touch.
“I think so.”
“Then I’m happy.”
When they reached the next hourly stop, Arles pulled over at the edge of a small park not far from the highway. Marianne got out with Christmas in her harness and put the cat down. The cat tentatively began to explore the sidewalk and nearby grass. Morris walked beside Marianne as she made her way to a wooden bench that overlooked an ice-rimmed pond. The two sat down together with the cat between their feet. Christmas crouched low, her gaze focused on a dozen ducks floating in a stretch of open water in front of her.
Toby stood beside Greta. “My sister is doing better now that she has something else to focus on.”
Greta folded her arms self-consciously. “It’s often the case that our troubles seem less important when we are helping someone else. I said I would take Christmas home, but I think she may do better to stay with your sister. Would that be possible?”
“It’s very kind of you to offer. I think Marianne would love that. It looks as though there is a path around the lake, would you care to walk with me?”
Greta’s gaze flew to his face. She bit the corner of her lip. For an Amish man to invite a single woman to go walking with him implied a desire for more than friendship. Did he mean it that way?
Should she accept?
Chapter Eleven
Greta agonized over how to answer Toby.
His expression slowly changed from hopeful to puzzled. Why was she stalling? She wanted to go.
A walk in the park was a lot less intimate than sitting together in the backseat of the van. It wasn’t as if the request meant anything special. It didn’t. It was a gesture of kindness to a fellow traveler. She could accept that.
“A walk would be nice.”
Nice? There was an understatement. Maybe exciting or awesome, but not plain old nice.
“Goot.” He began walking, and she fell into step beside him. Almost close enough to touch. When his hand did accidently brush hers, she stopped breathing for a second. Oh, being with him was so much more than nice.
It was amazing how freeing it was to know she didn’t have to watch every word with this young man. She could be as outspoken as Lizzie or as serene as Clara. He would never know the difference. She didn’t have to be plain, goot Greta the mouse who tended the gardens and the animals.
They walked slowly, neither one of them in a hurry to get around the little lake. A life-size
nativity had been set up beside the path where a backdrop of cedar trees provided a windbreak. The wooden cutouts of the Christ child, Mary, Joseph, the stable, a shepherd and several of his flock were all painted bright white. Against the deep green of the trees, it made a pretty scene.
“Do those sheep look familiar?” Toby asked with a teasing grin.
“My grandfather raises a much fatter breed,” she answered struggling to keep a straight face. His chuckle was music to her ears. She would never grow tired of hearing it or of seeing the dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he smiled.
Farther along the path was a gaily painted gingerbread house from which Santa and his reindeer appeared to be taking off down a runway flanked by five-foot-tall lollipops and candy canes. The wind was chilly, but Greta didn’t mind. She was often outdoors on the farm in all kinds of weather. Besides, she was tired of being cooped up in the van, and Toby’s company was keeping her warm.
As they walked farther along, he grew serious, pushing his hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t help but notice the animosity between you and your uncle. I know it’s none of my business, but if you would like to talk about it I could listen.”
“You are turning my words back on me, aren’t you?” she asked, casting him a sidelong glance.
“I feel better for having talked about my troubles. You should try it.”
She looked straight ahead. “I don’t wish to speak ill of him.”
“The truth is the truth. It is neither good nor ill.”
He was right, but could she tell her story without revealing how poorly she practiced her faith? Without revealing how frightened she was of becoming the mouse of a person her uncle had made her.
Toby waited calmly. He didn’t press her. He was such a kind man. Perhaps sharing her fears would make them less. And why not? She was unlikely to see Toby again after today.
Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for ChristmasHer Montana ChristmasAn Amish Christmas JourneyYuletide Baby Page 45