Authors: Brenda Minton
Chapter Sixteen
H
ad the temperature of the room suddenly gone up?
Toby cleared his throat while he tried to think of something that wouldn't offend Greta's grandfather. “Entertainment? We did some cross-stitch. It's something I've been meaning to take up again. She's a good teacher.”
Toby thought Carl laughed, but he turned it into a cough so Toby couldn't be sure. Joe glared at him.
The ensuing awkward silence lasted until the girls returned. Marianne wore a black
kapp
instead of her usual white one. It was a little too big, but he knew she was more comfortable with her scars covered. She sat down and took the cat from him. He brushed his sweaty palms on his pant legs.
Greta glanced from his face to her grandfather's stern one. She arched an eyebrow at Toby. He gave her a weak smile. “I was telling your grandfather about our cross-stitching lesson.”
She looked perplexed. “I'm going to go help in the kitchen.” She pointed in that direction.
“A good idea,” her grandfather said. “I may have more questions for Toby.”
Once she was out of the room, Toby went on the offensive to forestall any more inquiries from Joe or comments from Arles. “Greta told us that this is a sheep farm. How many sheep do you have, Joe?”
Joe looked at Carl. “What was our last count?”
“One hundred and eighty-five.”
“How many baby lambs?” Marianne asked. Toby was surprised that she entered the conversation. She was normally reserved around people she didn't know. He was tempted to hug her.
“Lambs? None. We won't have lambs until spring,” Joe said. “All we have now are pregnant mothers and four fat, lazy rams.”
“What happened to your cat?” Carl asked. His dog sat beside him, but the animal's gaze was fixed on the doorway to Morris's room.
Marianne stroked the cat's back. “She got caught in the engine of Mr. Hooper's van. She's really Greta's cat, but Greta gave her to me before we left. She was afraid your dog wouldn't like her.”
Carl reached down to pet Duncan's head. “Greta is right about that. Duncan likes to chase cats, but I think he will behave if I tell him he must. Should we introduce them and see how it goes?”
Marianne clutched Christmas to her chest. “Not tonight. Christmas is grumpy. She might hurt your dog.”
There was a second of silence, then everyone laughed. Marianne scowled at the men guffawing around her.
Joe wiped a tear from his eye. “Poor Duncan, think what a blow that would be to his self-respect. I'd almost like to see it. I'm sure the cat could give him what for.”
To Toby's surprise, Marianne began laughing, too. She grinned at Carl. “She might. She's a scrapper.”
Toby settled back on the couch. It was worth a bump on the head and much more to hear his sister laugh again. Who would have thought a scrawny stray cat could be such good medicine.
“In that case we had better make sure Duncan leaves her alone,” Carl said with a wide grin.
After that, the men discussed the weather and what it might mean for the price of food and fuel if the storm lived up to predictions. When the conversation lagged, Toby remembered his first chat with Greta about sheep. “Do you have to worry about sheep in weather like this or do you keep them in the barn over the winter?”
Joe said, “Can't really keep sheep inside barns for any length of time unless you have very good ventilation. They're prone to respiratory infections. We graze them in open pastures during the winter. We set aside several tracks of land during the fall and let the grass reach eight to ten inches in height. Even with a good snowfall on that, it won't go completely flat. They can paw their way down to it.”
“We have round bales of hay available for them, too,” Carl added.
“Will they graze even in the storm like this?” Toby asked.
“Sheep are ruminants. They tend to fill up prior to a storm. Then they can wait it out in a sheltered spot and just chew their cud. They can go up to two days without eating, and it will not cause them harm.”
“What about water?”
“If they can't get to water, they eat the snow. Sometimes they would rather eat the snow than go to fresh water.”
Toby noticed Greta was mixing dough on the counter near the doorway and listening to the conversation. She kept glancing in his direction. Her grandfather was an eagle-eyed fellow. He noticed, too. “What else did you and Greta talk about?”
What had they talked about? Toby remembered the feeling of comfortable companionship more than he remembered individual conversations. He glanced at her. “We talked a little about her schooling.”
Her eyes widened and she gave a quick shake of her head.
He winced inwardly. Wrong topic.
Joe's eyes narrowed. “What about her schooling?”
“Just that she liked school...and she hoped that my sister would like school in Pennsylvania...and that her sisters all enjoyed their schooling.” Toby stumbled to a halt knowing he sounded like a fool.
Carl had his fingers pressed against his mouth but his eyes were crinkled with amusement. “Did she mention that her sister Clara had hoped to become a schoolteacher but decided to marry instead?”
Toby started to nod but changed it to a shake. “
Nee,
I don't think she did.”
Greta rolled her eyes at him and went back to kneading her dough.
“And what is it that you do, Toby?” Carl asked.
“I'm a wood-carver by trade, but I was working in one of the RV factories in Fort Wayne until recently.”
Arles lost his frown of pain and sat up with interest. “Which one?”
Toby gave him the name and it opened a floodgate of questions from the driver about various models, gas mileage and upgrades. It seemed that he was eager to explore more of the country and thought an RV might be perfect for him since he enjoyed driving.
Toby was able to relax a little as he answered Arles's questions, but he had the feeling that Joe would keep an eye on him during their stay. His chance to find time alone with Greta was diminishing.
It was some time later that Naomi came to the doorway and announced dinner. Duncan left his place by Carl's chair and stood at the back door. Carl let him out. Marianne fixed a place on the couch with a pillow and a crocheted throw. She put Christmas inside the makeshift nest, and the cat seemed content to stay put.
Supper turned out to be a delicious and generous spread with chicken and dumplings, golden yellow corn, green beans, homemade bread with blueberry jam and two peach pies for dessert. Toby hadn't eaten so well in weeks. He was glad to see Marianne did justice to her plate, but it wasn't long before her eyelids began to droop. He had to remember this was only her second day out of the hospital. Greta had been watching his sister, too.
He caught her eye and tipped his head toward the stairs. She nodded. He smiled his thanks. She quickly looked around to see who might be watching them. She didn't smile back. His heart sank. Had he lost her friendship for good?
* * *
Greta was glad to get away from the table. It was hard to have Toby so close and not speak to him. She rose from her place and touched Marianne's shoulder. “Let's get you and Christmas off to bed. It has been a very long day.”
“Can Christmas sleep with me?”
“Of course.”
“Will the dog bother her during the night?”
Joe said, “Duncan normally sleeps on the back porch so he can go out and keep an eye on the farm at night. Your cat will be safe inside.”
Naomi said, “Joe, why don't you fetch one of the little beds from the attic for Marianne.”
“I was just going to do that.” He pushed away from the table with a wink for his wife.
Marianne collected Christmas from the sofa and followed Greta upstairs. In Greta's room, she stifled a wide yawn. “We need to feed Christmas. She must be hungry by now.”
“I have some of the food the vet gave us right here.” Greta handed a packet to Marianne who made a small pile of the kibble on the floor. Christmas made short work of her meal.
Joseph brought the bed into Greta's room and Naomi made it up for the girl. After they left, Greta fixed a makeshift litter box from an old cake pan and filled a bowl with water for the cat. She immediately came to get a drink.
Marianne stroked her pet lovingly. “She likes it here. Everyone is friendly, and they didn't make fun of the way she looks.”
“My family loves animals. We take care of sick and hurt ones all the time. Why, you should see this house during lambing season. We have bottle lambs everywhere. I've even seen
Daadi
Joe holding two in his lap and feeding them in his recliner.”
Looking up, Marianne's eyes grew sad. “I think she wants to stay here.”
Greta shook her head. “I think she only wants to visit for a little while. Until the storm is over. Then, she has a new family to meet who will love her and not make fun of her.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so. If she is ever unhappy, all she has to do is think about me and my family and how much we like her.”
Marianne smiled. “I will. I mean, she will.”
Greta stayed where she was to make sure Marianne fell asleep. At least that's what she told herself.
The truth was that she was hiding out. It was better than going downstairs to face Toby for the evening. Bandaging his head was one thing. Making small talk was another. His kiss was constantly on her mind. Everyone was sure to see how distracted she was.
Why had he done it? Did he regret it? Would he try to repeat it?
If he did, what would she do? Her thoughts ran around like spring lambs in the pasture, leaping this way and that without settling on a solution to her problem.
How could she pretend the kiss hadn't happened?
It wasn't long before her sister Betsy came upstairs. “I think we have everyone settled. Toby chose to sleep on the sofa. Arles elected to sleep in Joseph's recliner with his arm resting on a stack of pillows. Naomi and
Daadi
have taken over my room so that Morris wouldn't have to climb the stairs. Carl and Lizzie are in their usual bedroom down at the end of the hall. It looks like you're stuck with me.” She began getting ready for bed. She took off her
kapp
and let down her hair.
Greta did the same. “I don't mind.”
“I knew you wouldn't. How is Marianne?”
“Sleeping.” Christmas was curled up on the pillow beside her head.
“Have you looked out the window? It's still snowing heavily. I wonder how long our guests will be stuck here? I hope they stay until Christmas. Wouldn't that be fun?”
Five more days? Greta didn't think she could take it. “I'm sure it will blow itself out tonight. Marianne and her brother have family anxious to spend Christmas with them. How is
Onkel
Morris?”
“I don't know. He hasn't poked his head out.”
“Do you think we should check on him?”
“Ugh, not me. I don't want to get my head chewed off. You never did tell us about your trip. Was it awful?”
Nee,
it was wonderful.
She could hardly admit that without explaining why. Instead, she said, “I'm glad it's over. I wanted to tell everyone together, but I will tell you now. The nurse at the hospital told me
Onkel
Morris isn't going to get better. He may only have a few months left to live.”
Betsy sank onto the foot of the bed. “Are you serious?”
“I am.”
Betsy gripped her hands together and was silent for a long time. Finally, she looked up. “Does he know?”
“Ja.”
“Has it...has it changed him?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“I feel bad now for imagining that I could sic Duncan on him if he made me angry. It was very unchristian of me, but I did enjoy the thought.”
Greta's chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
“You and
Daadi
were right.
Onkel
Morris has found a way to ruin our Christmas.”
Greta crossed the room to give her sister a hug. “We must not let that happen. We will have a wonderful Christmas, and together we can show him all that he has missed. Who knows, maybe the Lord will use the love in this house to change our uncle's heart before it is too late.”
“Well, He has been known to work miracles.”
“Indeed He has.” Greta began to giggle, and Betsy joined in, both holding their hands over their mouth so they wouldn't wake the sleeping child.
They were still giggling when they blew out the lamp and crawled under the covers. Even though she was dead tired, Greta found it hard to sleep knowing that Toby was just downstairs. When she got out of the van that afternoon, she never expected to see him again, and yet God had sent him right back to her. What did it mean?
Why give them another day together? Wasn't a clean break the best? Oh, she wanted to spend more time with him, but even if he stayed another day, he was still going to leave. Her heart ached at the thought. She punched her pillow into shape.
She would recover from this loss. The strange feeling that made her giddy when she was near him would fade with time and distance. She was too practical a person to dream about a man who was far away. Wasn't she?
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on not thinking. It didn't help. In desperation, she began counting sheep. At three hundred, she stopped that futile exercise, too.
Rolling over carefully so as not to disturb Betsy, Greta saw Christmas had made herself at home on the window ledge. She sat peering intently out into the night. Greta listened, but heard nothing except the wind and the hiss of snow against the window panes. What was the cat looking at?
Chapter Seventeen
R
ising, Greta moved to the window, crossing her arms to ward off the chill. She pulled back the simple white curtain and tried to look out. All she could see was the swirling darkness. No hint of light from the moon or stars penetrated the blizzard raging outside. Even their
Englisch
neighbor's yard light, normally visible from Greta's window, was hidden from view. The howling wind continued unabated. Toby and his sister wouldn't be leaving in the morning.
The cat licked her paw and looked at Greta. She ran a hand down the animal's sleek back. The cat arched into her hand and purred.
“I'm sure you're happy to have a warm place to sleep and all the food you can eat, but you will have that in Pennsylvania, too. Why make everyone stay here? He kissed me. What am I supposed to say to him tomorrow? How shall I act?”
Christmas yawned, her pink tongue curling back on her white teeth. She lay down and began to lick her paws.
“I see you have no answer for me. Why am I surprised?” Greta leaned her forehead on the cold glass. “I have no answer for me, either.”
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Somehow, she would find a way to get through it.
In spite of her sleepless night, Greta was the first one up in the morning. She crept into the kitchen expecting to find it empty, but Toby stood with his back to her as he gazed out the window over the sink. She paused in the doorway. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to act. She took a step back, intending to return upstairs.
He turned around, but the sweet smile that she expected was missing from his face. “Good morning.”
She stiffened her back and lifted her chin. “Good morning. I was about to put on some coffee.”
“That sounds good. It's still snowing. I don't think we are going anywhere today.”
He looked wonderful in the soft morning light. His hair was rumpled. There was stubble on his cheeks and his clothes were the same ones that he had been wearing yesterday. She had never seen a better looking man.
“How's your head?” she asked, trying hard to conceal how much she cared.
He touched the bandage. “Sore.”
“I'm not surprised.” She took the coffeepot from the back of the stove and carried it to the sink, forcing him to step aside. He was so close that her nerve endings tingled with awareness. She concentrated on keeping her hands steady.
“Greta, about yesterday...” His voice trailed away.
She turned toward him clasping the coffeepot to her chest as if it could shield her from heartache. “What about it?”
“I was out of line.”
He was going to say he was sorry again. She didn't want to hear that. “I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Please know that it was never my intention to hurt you.”
She turned to the sink and began filling the pot with water. “It was just a kiss, Toby. Don't tell me you've never kissed a girl before.” She would die before she told him it had been her first. Very likely her last.
“I have kissed one or two girls, but it didn't mean anything.”
She smiled so brightly that her cheeks hurt and turned to face him. “Well, there you go. We can agree that it didn't mean anything. Now, can we talk about something else?”
* * *
All night he had rehearsed this conversation in his mind instead of sleeping. He wanted to know how she felt about his impulsive but heartfelt act. He had his answer. Although it wasn't the one he wanted.
The kiss had meant a great deal to him, but clearly, it hadn't meant anything to her. She moved about the kitchen fixing coffee and getting eggs out of the refrigerator, stepping around him as if he were nothing more than an obstacle in her path, not someone she had grown fond of the way he had grown fond of her. At least she wasn't angry. That was something.
“I'll get out of your hair,” he said, moving toward the living room.
“I'll call you when breakfast is ready,” she said as she cracked eggs into a bowl.
She sounded so cold, so distant. He wanted to say something that would restore the closeness and the friendship that they had shared, but he feared he had ruined that forever.
He walked out of the room. At the door, he paused and looked back. She stood with her arms braced on the countertop and her head down as if the weight of the world were crushing her. He heard a muffled sniff and it cut him to the quick.
He was back at her side before the thought even formed in his mind. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to gather her in his arms. “Don't cry, Greta. I'm sorry. It was foolish of me. I knew that I would never see you again, and I couldn't bear that. I meant no disrespect, although I'm sure you didn't see it that way. Please forgive me.”
She straightened and scrubbed her cheeks with her palms. “There's nothing to forgive.”
“I might believe that if you weren't crying. The last thing I want to lose is your friendship.”
“We were friends, weren't we?” She asked in a small and timid voice.
“We
are
friends,” he said firmly. “If I ever have to journey in the back of a van for two days again, I would choose you to accompany me over anyone else in the world.”
She gave him a watery smile. “It was better than riding the bus.”
“I'll take your word for that. Am I forgiven for my lapse of good sense? I don't think I could stand it if I knew you were still angry with me.”
“I'm not angry with you.”
“
Danki.
I will mind my manners from here on out.” He would, no matter what it cost him. Because even now, with her wiping away tears, he still wanted to kiss her. He didn't understand this hopeless attraction to her, but he wanted her friendship. And he wanted to see her happy more than he wanted another kiss.
She sniffed again. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over hard, break the yolks.”
“I think I can manage that. Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything,” he said and he meant it.
“Would you check on my uncle for me?”
“I will, and I will be as quiet as a mouse.”
* * *
After Toby left the kitchen, Greta turned to the sink and splashed water on her face to erase any evidence of her tears. She scrubbed as hard as she dared. What a fool she was. She wasn't angry at Toby. She was angry at herself for making a mountain out of a molehill.
These crazy feelings that tangled her up when he was near were a mess of her own making. She had been lonely, frightened and insecure from the moment she faced her uncle again. Toby's kindness had been a balm to her wounded spirit. His friendliness was a stark contrast to her uncle's animosity. She made her relationship with Toby into more than it really was. She craved his calm gentleness and somehow she communicated that need in a way he had misinterpreted. He wasn't to blame. She would simply have to control those emotions. Now that she was home and surrounded by her family, she wouldn't need him to soothe her battered mental state.
After using a kitchen towel to blot her face, she drew a deep breath and resolved to be something other than a weeping basket case when he spoke to her. She set about fixing breakfast with a vengeance.
“So you let him kiss you. A fellow will not buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.” Morris came out of the pantry just off the kitchen.
Mortified, she stared at her uncle in shock. “You were eavesdropping on us!”
He held out an orange box. “I was looking for some baking soda. I have indigestion. I couldn't help overhearing what you said. The door was ajar.”
She turned away in disgust. “I don't suppose you thought of letting us know you were there.”
“I did think of it.”
He moved to the sink, poured a glass of water and mixed a spoonful of baking soda into the liquid. He turned around and sipped the drink slowly. Greta got on with her work and began mixing dough for biscuits.
“You know he was simply bored and using you to pass the time on our trip, don't you?”
“I don't know anything of the sort.” She tried to sound defiant, but she only sounded defensive and insecure. Hadn't that very thought crossed her mind only moments after Toby kissed her?
“My poor Greta, you never were the brightest one in the bunch. Greta the mouse, always trying to scurry out of my sight.”
She sucked in a breath that ended in a sob. “You heard him just now. He apologized for his action. We're friends, that's all.”
“
Ja,
he is a friendly fellow. This storm will keep him here for a few more days. I imagine he will make a pass at Betsy next. She's younger and so much prettier.”
Greta bit her lip. Betsy was prettier. Would Toby start paying attention to her?
No, she didn't believe that. Yet her uncle had put the idea in her head and it was hard to make it leave. “You're wrong about Toby. He's a kind man.”
“And you are a weak woman. I pity you. I do.”
Toby came back into the kitchen. “Your uncle is not in his room or in the bathroom. Oh, there you are, sir. How are you feeling this morning?”
Morris set his empty glass on the counter and smiled at Greta. “I'm actually feeling much better. I'm glad we had this little talk. It reminds me of old times. You remember how I like my eggs and oatmeal, don't you?”
“
Ja,
Onkel.
I remember.” He would sometimes throw it at her if she got it wrong. Greta swallowed hard against the bitterness rising from her stomach.
“I wasn't looking forward to coming here, but I believe I may enjoy my Christmas among the sheep.” He chuckled at his own joke and left the room.
Toby moved to Greta's side. “You look upset. Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. He could never understand. “Nothing's wrong. Things are the same as they always were.”
“
Nee,
you've changed since you got home.”
She started laughing. “I haven't changed. This is the real me. I'm not the person you thought you knew. I'm Greta the mouse.”