Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (40 page)

Chapter Ten

“M
arianne, 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 rolled 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

G
reta 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.

She drew a deep breath. “After our parents died,
Onkel
Morris took us in. I have three sisters. Outwardly, it seemed a kind and generous thing to do. Behind closed doors, that was not the case.”

“Your uncle treated you unkindly? I've noticed he's not a likable fellow.”

“It was worse than unkindness. He was cruel to us.” She glanced at Toby but saw only interest and compassion in his eyes, not judgment. She looked down. “He beat us often.”

“I'm sorry. I had no idea. No wonder you seem so reserved around him.”

“I won't bore you with the details, but eventually he tried to force my sister Clara to marry a terrible man. We were powerless to stop it until my brave sister Lizzie ran away and found our estranged grandfather. She secured a place for all of us and then sent money to a friend to help us leave. We did so without my uncle's consent on the morning of Clara's wedding day. Morris was humiliated, as was the man who wished to marry her. They came after us and tried to force us to return. God, in his greatness, sent a wonderful dog named Duncan to foil their plans.”

“God is good.”

“He is indeed.”

“What of your family now?”

“Two of my sisters are happily wed to kind and generous men. My third sister may soon follow in their footsteps.”

“And you?”

“I have no plans to wed.”

“Because you haven't met the right fellow,” he said with a knowing smile.

“It's not just that. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with my life.” How could she be a good wife and mother if she had not forgiveness in her heart?

“I don't understand.”

She managed a wry smile. “I'm not surprised. I'm considering going on with my schooling. I'm thinking about becoming a counselor and working with abused women.”

Toby stopped walking and looked at her in surprise. “You mean leave the Amish?”

* * *

Toby was stunned. He didn't know Greta well, but she didn't seem like someone willing to discard her Amish upbringing. During his
rumspringa,
he'd met a few Amish girls who were anxious to escape their restrictive lives. They were easy to spot. They dressed
Englisch
every chance they got. Some of them smoked and drank. A few he knew had even experimented with drugs. He didn't sense that restlessness in Greta.

Maybe it was because she wasn't looking to escape. She wanted to help others. He admired that.

“Are you shocked?” she asked.

“A little.” He looked at her through different eyes. Until a moment ago, he had been wondering if they could maintain their budding relationship over a long distance. It was possible. His cousin Marvin had written to a girl he met at a wedding in Wisconsin and eventually married her after many letters and a few long-distance trips. They were happy together. But a relationship with someone ready to leave the Amish had never been on Toby's horizon. He'd enjoyed his
rumspringa,
but he always intended to be baptized and raise an Amish family.

“What type of schooling would that require? Perhaps your bishop could give you a special dispensation if the need is great in your church.”

“I do not believe it would be granted. Child and spouse abuse occur in every walk of life, even among Christian people, but I don't think we Amish are as aware of it as the
Englisch
are. We tend to keep such things hidden if they occur to avoid interference by outsiders. We forgive unconditionally, but I fear we do not treat the cause of the problem. I would have to finish high school and go on to college to eventually become a counselor.”

“That would take many years of study. Is this something you have set your mind on?” he asked. Such a decision could not be an easy one.

“I've given it a lot of thought, but after this trip I realized I may not be ready.”

“Why do you say that?”

She started walking again. “I realize that I haven't forgiven my uncle for his abuse. I'm not sure I can help other women find forgiveness and heal if I can't find it in myself.”

“But we must forgive. It is God's commandment to us.”

“I've tried. I thought I had come to grips with it, but I'm still so angry with him. I didn't even want to accompany him on this trip. I did so because my youngest sister was the only other person who could come, and she is too young to make this trip alone. I thought after his heart attack that he might have changed. I was hoping... I don't know what I was hoping for. Forgiveness, some sign of remorse for the way he treated us in the past.”

“Reconciliation,” Toby said softly.

“Perhaps,” she agreed.

“Forgiveness is one-sided, Greta. We can forgive someone without them being aware of it. It is simply between us and God. The other person doesn't need to have any part in that act. When we want forgiveness
and
a chance for a new relationship, we are really looking for reconciliation.”

“Maybe that is what I want. He's family, after all. No one should be alone at the end of their life.”

They walked in silence until they reached a small footbridge that spanned the stream flowing into the pond. Painted white, the wooden railings were adorned with swags of evergreen boughs tied on with large red bows. The scent of pine and the sound of rushing water filled the air. Greta stopped and leaned on the railing. Toby did the same. He propped his forearms on the wood and watched the water flowing between the icy banks beneath them as it raced to the pond and vanished under the ice.

He and Greta were journeying toward their destinations, too. Unlike the water below, they weren't headed in the same direction. What might have happened between them if they were going the same way? If she wanted to remain Amish? If he didn't have to think of his sister first? If they didn't live hundreds of miles apart?

They were questions without answers. None of that really mattered. They would go their separate ways soon. All he had been granted was a few hours with this amazing woman.

* * *

Greta glanced toward Toby and found him watching her. There was a soft light in his eyes, a kind of sadness, but something else, too. She clasped her hands tightly together to keep from reaching out to touch him. “It's strange. I find myself telling you things I have not shared with anyone else.”

“I know it has taken a great deal of courage for you to tell me these things.”

“You have made it easy,” she said softly, hoping he understood how much his kindness meant to her.

“I suppose it's easy because we won't see each other after today. Or maybe it's because we have been shut in the back of that van together for
hours
and
hours.
”

It might be part of the reason, but it wasn't the entire reason. There was something special about this young man. He touched a chord in her that she never knew existed. As much as she wanted to reach home, she didn't want their journey together to end. Once she reached the farm, she would be plain,
goot
Greta again.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “It hasn't been that bad, has it?”

He smiled sweetly. “
Nee,
it hasn't been bad at all.”

A thrill tumbled across her heart. She looked away hoping to hide how much she wanted him to take her hand or drape his arm over her shoulder.

Foolish wishes.

Across the small lake, she saw her uncle and Marianne heading back to the van. Greta didn't want to return. She wanted to stay here, on this little footbridge and spend hours with Toby. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about the man beside her. She already knew that he was kind, that he loved his sister deeply and that he was wise beyond his years.

He looked up. “It's starting to snow.”

The wind swirled around them, driving a few cold flakes against her cheeks. It was God's way of telling her that she could not stay here. Her life could not stand still. She had to move on. And that meant parting from Toby.

“We should get back to the van,” he said, but he didn't move.

“All good things must end,” she said quietly.

“This is a good thing, isn't it?” He was gazing out at the pond, but the moment he spoke, he looked directly at her and she knew he was talking about them. She read the truth in his eyes. He felt the same compelling connection that made her long for more time together, but it wasn't to be.

“You have been a marvelous traveling companion, Toby Yoder.”

He smiled sadly. “You, too, Greta Barkman.”

There was no reason to prolong the inevitable. Greta pushed away from the rail and started walking with Toby close beside her. Neither of them said anything until they reached the van.

Marianne and Arles were already inside. Christmas was meowing and tugging at her lead, struggling to get out of Marianne's arms. Greta looked around. “Where is my uncle?”

“I think Christmas was annoying him. She kept pawing at him. He said he needed to stretch his legs a little more. He went that way.” Marianne pointed toward the path that led through an arbor set between thick stands of shrubs.

“We need to get going,” Arles said impatiently.

“I'll go get him.”

Greta walked the way Marianne had pointed. The snowflakes were growing thicker and larger. She blinked away the ones that stuck to her lashes and picked up her pace. As she passed through the arbor, she stumbled to a halt and stood frozen in place as she stared at her uncle's crumpled figure lying on the ground.