Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for Christmas\Her Montana Christmas\An Amish Christmas Journey\Yuletide Baby (44 page)

Chapter Eighteen

S
omething was definitely wrong.

Toby took a step back. He didn't care for the look of hopelessness on Greta's face or the glimmer of tears in her eyes in spite of her harsh laughter. “Greta, look at me.”

She wouldn't. “Please go away, Toby. I have work to do.”

“What did he say that upset you?”

“What does it matter? He says and he does whatever he wants. He isn't happy until everyone around him is unhappy. He has a knack for it and he'll never change. I just have to endure.”

“And what do you have a knack for, Greta Barkman?” Toby demanded.

That caught her attention. She glanced at him and looked away. “Nothing.”

“Well, you're a poor liar. So what do you have a knack for?”

“Cooking, cleaning, tending the garden, nursing sick sheep.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly. “Now we're getting somewhere. What else do you have a knack for, Greta Barkman?”

“Nothing, I told you that.”

“So helping my sister was nothing special. Helping me talk about my grief was nothing special. Do you really not see your God-given gift? I don't believe it, because you told me yourself that you wanted to go on to school so that you could help abused women.”

“It's a foolish dream. I don't know why I ever thought of it.”

He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched but didn't pull away. “Because you want to help people, Greta. You have a knack for it. If a woman you want to help had been in this kitchen this morning, what would you say to her?”

“I don't know.”

“Again, I will mention you are not a good liar. You know exactly what you would tell her. You would tell her to keep her mouth shut and never mention to anyone the way she was treated.”

She looked up aghast. “I would never say that.”

He nodded and folded his arms again. “Now I hear the ring of truth in your words. If you wouldn't tell her that, what would you tell her?”

“I would tell her to find a heavy cast-iron skillet and bang that ugly old man over the head with it.”

“Okay, that is not what I expected.”

The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I wouldn't say that, either. Nor would I ever do it. I would tell her to remember that she is a worthwhile person, not a worthless person.”

He patted his chest in relief. “
Goot,
I like that much better. What else?”

She stood a little straighter. The hopelessness left her eyes. “I would tell her that God does not make junk. She is not junk. I would tell her God's love is all encompassing and no matter what our lives bring, God's love for us never wavers.”

“She has to believe that in her heart or nothing will change.”

Greta closed her eyes. “She has to believe that none of it is her fault. She has to believe she deserves goodness in her life.”

Toby placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face so that she had to look at him. “And do you believe that?”

* * *

Greta gazed into Toby's compassionate eyes and wondered if he had any idea how much comfort his words brought her. “I want to believe. I want to, but it's hard to change the way I have thought for so long.”

“I think I understand. So what will you do about it? Do you have a plan?”

“I will pray.”

“We pray for a good harvest, but we still have to hoe the ground and plant the seeds. You can't scatter them willy-nilly and expect a good crop. It takes careful planning and a family working together to gather in enough for all. You don't need to do this alone.”

“You are right. I will have a meeting with my family today and we will come up with a plan. My uncle cannot revert to his old ways in this house. My family deserves goodness.
Danki,
for pointing out the obvious to me.”

“It's something I have a knack for.”

She bit the corner of her lip. “He was in the pantry. He overheard our conversation. He knows you kissed me.”

“And you don't think he will keep that information to himself?”

“Only if it suits him. If he can use it against me somehow, he will.”

“Then I am doubly sorry I gave him ammunition, but I'm still not sorry that I kissed you.”

“You kissed my sister!”

Greta spun around to see Betsy in the doorway with an openmouthed look of delight on her face. Duncan stood at her side wagging his tail. Greta closed her eyes and groaned. “We have to stop having these conversations in the kitchen where everyone and their dog can overhear us.”

Betsy pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. She propped her elbows on the table and put her chin in her hands. “Duncan can keep a secret. So can I.”

“There is no such thing as a secret in this house.” Greta added a spoonful of shortening to the flour in her bowl.

Betsy grinned. “It's true that most of them don't stay a secret for long.”

Toby took a seat across from Betsy. “I hope I can depend on you to keep this one. I don't want your sister to be embarrassed.”

She laid a finger alongside her cheek and tapped it. “I'll think about it.”

Greta saw the look of admiration in Betsy's eyes. From where she was standing, she couldn't see Toby's face. Was he giving her one of his heart-fluttering smiles? Did he find her attractive?

Of course he did. Betsy was as cute as a bug's ear and could be utterly charming when she put her mind to it. Much more charming than Greta knew how to be.

It was hard not to give weight to Morris's words when they were exactly what Greta feared. That Toby, kindhearted, easy-going Toby, would be himself no matter which sister he was with, that their relationship really hadn't been anything special.

Greta turned away from the pair. “While you are thinking, set the table and then bring up some more blueberry jam from the cellar. We're almost out.”

Toby came to stand close beside Greta. “Breakfast can wait. I think now would be a good time to have your family meeting before Arles and Marianne are awake and Morris comes out of his room again.”

She set her baking aside. She shouldn't put it off. “Betsy, ask Lizzie and Carl to come to the quilting room upstairs. I'll get
Daadi
and Naomi.”

“Why are we having a family meeting?”

Greta clasped her hands together and stared at her white knuckles. “Because
Onkel
Morris is up to his old ways.”

Betsy jumped up and threw her arms around Greta. “We'll put a stop to it. Somehow.”

Greta returned her sister's hug. “We will. We have to. It's our first happy Christmas together since we were little girls. We won't let him ruin it.”

Fifteen minutes later, all of Greta's family sat assembled around the quilting frame that had been set up in a room with a long line of south-facing windows. Toby stood near the door to keep an eye down the hall. Greta shared the information with everyone about Morris's condition and waited for them to come to grips with it.

Lizzie smoothed the soft fabric of the quilt top with her hands. “So when Morris leaves, it won't be to go back to Indiana.”

Greta sighed. “
Nee.
He will travel down the road to our Amish cemetery on Adrian Lapp's land and be laid to rest there.”

Lizzie rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “It's hard to accept, isn't it? I know we all have to die, it's part of life, but knowing his end is near changes things somehow.”

“I thought so, too, but he has not changed. It took him less than ten minutes to have me feeling worthless and cowering this morning. We have to be prepared for his abuse. I'm not sure if he will ever change, but if we hold each other up and refuse to allow him to hurt us, we will gain the upper hand. Perhaps then he will see that we are not his pawns.”

“I'm not going to let him make me feel worthless,” Lizzie declared.

“Nor am I,” Betsy said.

Their grandfather, who had been quiet until this point, said, “You girls have brought light and life into this house. I am forever grateful to God for your presence. Nothing Morris can say or do will change that.”

Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. “Let him try to be mean to one of you while I am listening. He may very well find himself wearing a cast-iron hat.”

“Now, Naomi, you know that isn't right,” their grandfather chided.

“I know, and I'm sorry for the unchristian thought, but it hurts my heart to think of him putting down my new granddaughters.”

Greta met Toby's eyes and smiled. “Now do you see where I get it?”

He nodded. “You women truly make me want to mind my manners.”

“And well you should,” Joe said with a stern look.

“Greta, how do you suggest that we treat him?” Lizzie asked.

“The first thing is to make him aware of what he is doing. The next thing is to let him know that we will no longer tolerate that type of behavior.”

Lizzie rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “That is easier said than done.”

“I think we should involve the bishop.” Greta waited for everyone's reaction.

Joe and Naomi shared a speaking look. Naomi said, “Bishop Zook is a good man, but Morris is not one of his flock. I'm not sure he will want to step in.”

“We must kill
Onkel
Morris with kindness,” Betsy said.

“What do you mean?” Lizzie asked, her face frozen with shock.

“Not literally kill him. That was a bad choice of words on my part. I mean, we want a happy and joyous Christmas season, don't we? That is exactly what we should have. We will do all the things we have talked about. We'll bake oodles of cookies and yummy things.”

“We can have a Christmas singing here if the weather cooperates.” Lizzie's eyes brightened with excitement.

“Ja.”
Betsy rushed on. “We can make little presents for each other and put them on our plates Christmas morning, even his plate. We'll sing Christmas hymns together and
Daadi
can read the Christmas story from the Bible. We will welcome the Christ child with grateful, joyful hearts. If Morris says or does anything that takes away from the Christmas spirit in our house, we will ignore it. Forgive him and ignore it. This is our home.”

“She might be right,” Greta acknowledged. “Perhaps we can make Morris see what Christmas should be in a loving family.”

Naomi nodded slowly. “Maybe it will change his heart and open him to God's grace.”

Leaning forward eagerly, Betsy rubbed her hands together. “Where shall we start?”

Chapter Nineteen

“W
e start with breakfast. I'm hungry,” Joe said, making Toby and the women laugh.

Greta met Toby's gaze. He saw a new determination in her eyes. She nodded. “We start with breakfast.”

The Barkman sisters, working in happy concert, were a sight to behold. There was good-natured teasing, laughter and smiling faces all around. Watching from the safety of the living room, Toby leaned toward Carl. “Are they always like this?”

“Always,” Joe answered for him. “I haven't had a minute's peace since they arrived.”

“They are kind of loud,” Arles said, struggling to get into a more comfortable position in the chair.

Joe rose and touched Arles on the shoulder. “I can put a cot for you up in the quilting room. I think you'll be more comfortable there and it will be much quieter.”

“I'm willing to try anything. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

“Then come along. We'll save you something to eat when you've had more rest.”

Arles rose with his arm clutched to his chest. “Thank you, sir, you folks have been mighty nice to me.”

As the two men went upstairs, Toby couldn't contain his amusement. “He didn't get any sleep? It was like lying beside a chain saw all night.”

“I heard it up in my room. I wasn't sure if it was him or you.”

“I hope it wasn't me.”

“I'll let you know tomorrow. Our bedroom is beside the quilting room.”

An outburst of laughter turned Toby's attention to the kitchen. He stared at the sisters in wonder. “It's hard to imagine that they were abused for years.”

Carl nodded. “I know what you mean. God saw to it that they had each other. I know that helped Lizzie. I'm sure it helped the others, too. Clara is the quiet one. She normally keeps them in line, but now she has little ones of her own to ride herd on. I hope you get to meet her.”

“So do I.” Toby was growing fond of this family. Fonder still of Greta. He had watched her struggle against her uncle's demeaning treatment and emerge stronger.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and saw his sister come down. She had the cat in her arms. Duncan, who had been lying beside Carl's chair, sat up and eyed the newcomers. His feathery tail wagged slowly.

Carl put a hand on his dog's head. “Stay. Be easy. Marianne, is Christmas grumpy this morning?”

The girl stopped in front of Carl. “She feels fine.”

“Do you want to introduce these two?”

Toby wasn't sure, but he trusted Carl to know his own dog. Marianne looked at her pet. “Okay.”

“
Goot.
Bring her to me.” Carl held out his hands.

“Be nice, Christmas,” Marianne instructed as she handed the cat over.

Christmas stayed still, but her fur stood on end as she growled. Duncan inched closer to sniff her. Quick as a flash, Christmas smacked his snout twice. The hollow sound echoed loudly in the room. Duncan drew back, shook his head, sneezed and then lay down, looking away as if he didn't care she was on his owner's lap.

“Christmas, that wasn't nice.” Marianne lifted her from Carl's lap and carried her to the couch.

Carl rubbed his dog behind one ear and checked his nose. “She didn't use her claws. At least you know she isn't a pushover. You had better leave her be.”

Greta came into the room. Her back was ramrod straight. “Breakfast is ready. Please come and eat. I'll get
Onkel
Morris.”

“I'll get him,” Marianne said, passing the cat to Toby. She hopped off the sofa and rushed to his door. She knocked once and pushed it open. “Breakfast. Better come and get it before we throw it out. How are you this morning? Christmas thumped Duncan on the nose and he didn't bite her.”

Morris emerged and patted Marianne on the head. “Did she? Well, she is a very good cat, then.”

“
Ja,
I think so, too.”

Joe came down the stairs. “
Guder mariye,
Morris. I hope you slept well.”

Betsy and Lizzie leaned out the kitchen door. “Good morning,
Onkel,
” they said together.

He stared at them, a puzzled and distrustful expression on his face.
“Guder mariye.”

“We have oatmeal just the way you like it,” Betsy said.

“And Greta made soft-boiled eggs for you, too. We know you like them.”

“We'll see about that,” he grumbled, but he walked into the kitchen.

Everyone took their seats. Joe sat at the head of the table. His wife sat on his left-hand side with the girls ranging down the table length by age. Carl sat at Joe's right with Toby beside him. Morris chose to sit at the foot.

Joe bowed his head and everyone prayed silently until Joe raised his head, signaling the end of his prayers. “Pass the bacon, Naomi. It sure smells
goot.
”

Morris folded his arms over his chest. “My doctor says I can't have bacon anymore. It's cruel to make me sit here and smell it while all of you enjoy it.”

Naomi passed the platter to her husband. “The bacon is cooked and can't be uncooked. If you don't want to smell it, you may go back to your room.”

Morris's scowl deepened, but he didn't say anything else. He added salt and pepper to his eggs, took a bite and tossed down his fork. “These eggs aren't the way I like them.”

Greta leaned forward so she could see him. “We don't have more. If you don't like them, feed them to the dog. He isn't picky.”

“Are you implying that I'm picky?”

“Not at all,
Onkel.
I merely said the dog isn't.”

Marianne pushed her plate toward him. “You can have mine. I'm not that hungry.”

“Keep your breakfast, child. I'll choke these down before I make that hound happy.”

Marianne tipped her head as she regarded him. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed? You sure sound grumpy.”

“You are impertinent. Children should be seen and not heard.”

Toby watched his sister's happy expression fade and he knew a moment of intense resentment before he sent up a silent prayer asking forgiveness for the thought. Morris knew how to squash the happiness and kindness of those around him. He was more in need of prayers than anyone else at this table. Toby glanced across the table at Greta. She cast him a sympathetic look and then whispered something to Naomi.

Joe laid his fork and knife down, folded his hands and narrowed his eyes at Morris. “This is my house. I decide when someone eating at my table needs to be corrected.”

Morris locked eyes with him for a long moment. Toby sensed the tense battle of wills taking place. Morris gave in first and continued eating. After a minute, Joe resumed eating, too.

Naomi smiled at her husband and winked. Toby had to take a sip of coffee to keep from laughing. She rubbed her hands together. “Today, we can start on our Christmas preparations.”

“What kind of preparations?” There was a glimmer of interest in Marianne's eyes.

“We have so much to get done that I hardly know where to start,” Naomi declared. “We have a ton of baking to get done. We will need at least ten dozen cookies. Several pounds of fudge and divinity.”

“Don't forget the pies,” Greta said quickly.

“
Nee,
I must not forget the pies. Blueberry, peach, cherry, rhubarb, pumpkin. Am I forgetting any? Morris, what is your favorite kind of pie?”

“Shoofly,” he said hesitantly.

Naomi nodded to him. “Then you shall have it, for we want you to feel that you are part of our family now.”

“Of course you do.” His sarcasm wasn't lost on anyone.

The sisters exchanged glances. Betsy said, “It's true,
Onkel
Morris. We want you to feel at home here.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.”

“We do. It's Christmas, after all,” Lizzie added.

“Marianne, what things does your family do to get ready for Christmas?” Greta asked. Toby noticed she didn't try to convince Morris that he was wanted.

His sister had regained some of her animation. “We always have a program at school. I won't be in it this year, but I will watch my cousins put on a play and sing Christmas songs.”

“Our school has a program, too,” Naomi said. “Hearing the children singing is the highlight of the evening for me. What other things do you do to get ready for Christmas?”

“
Mamm
and I would go shopping. She let me pick out a present for Toby last year.”

He smiled at her. “They were a fine pair of leather gloves, and they kept my fingers warm and cozy. Don't forget the pine boughs that
Daed
would bring in for
Mamm.
”

Marianne smiled at the memory. “She would put them on the mantel and in the window with a candle.”

“What a
goot
idea,” Naomi said. “I love the smell of cedar and pine in the house. Joseph, you must bring some in for me.”

He looked at her over his cup of coffee. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

She laughed. “
Ja
, you can wait until the blizzard is over, too.”

“That's mighty kind of you. I believe I will.”

Morris leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “My church does not approve of such frivolity. We would never be allowed to decorate our homes in such an
Englisch
fashion.”

Joe's smile faded. “I know that your church adheres strongly to the old ways, and I respect that, but here in Hope Springs we are a little less strict.”

“Don't expect me to embrace your church's Ordnung.” Morris pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“We wouldn't dream of it,” Naomi said. “I hope you understand that we
do
embrace it.”

Morris left the room. Joe and Carl briefly discussed the chores and preparations that needed to be done that day while Naomi and the sisters quickly cleaned up the kitchen. Marianne went upstairs to feed Christmas and to give her the antibiotic the vet had prescribed.

Carl looked at Joe. “We can't put it off much longer. Since the storm is keeping us inside, we might as well get started on your taxes.”

Joe groaned. “‘Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar's, and unto God the things which be God's.'”

“First, you need to give unto Carl all your bills and receipts so I can see that you don't overpay. Or do you want to use a tax man this year?”

He slapped Carl on the shoulder. “I trust you to do a fair job.”

“I'm cheaper, too. That doesn't hurt. I think you like to see me pull my hair out. Do you have receipts for the medicine and the vet bills from last summer's wild dog attack on our lambs?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere. That's what I was afraid of.” The two men went into the living room where the farm records were kept in a file cabinet beside a rolltop desk. They both pulled up chairs and put their heads together over the books, moving a kerosene lamp closer since the day was dark and overcast.

Toby carried his empty coffee mug to the sink where Greta was scrubbing the dishes.

He slipped his cup into the soapy water. “For the first inning, I don't think it went too badly.”

“Morris is only getting warmed up.”

He sensed her anger boiling beneath the surface. Why did she let him get to her? “I noticed you didn't assure him that he was welcome.”

She kept her eyes downcast as she began to wash the mug. “You told me I was a poor liar.”

Toby wanted so badly to help her. “Greta, you have to forgive him. You are only hurting yourself by not doing so.”

She whirled to face him, anger blazing in her eyes. She slammed the cup on the counter so hard it broke. “Don't you think I know that!”

Activity in the kitchen stopped. Everyone gaped at her.