Authors: Brenda Minton
Chapter Twenty-Six
W
hen the presentation drew to a close, Greta followed the crowd outside where it divided into groups of family and friends happy to see each other and visit for a while before heading home.
Joy Mast came running up to Marianne. “Hi. I'm Joy. Merry Christmas. Did you like my poem? My new mom helped me write it. What's your name?”
“Marianne.”
“We can be friends now.” Joy threw her arms around Marianne and hugged her.
Stepping back, she pointed to Marianne's neck. “You got hurt. I'm sorry. Does it hurt?”
Marianne covered it with her hand. “Not much anymore.”
“That's good. I mean
goot.
Come meet my other friends. Oh, look, there is Dr. White. He says I have Up syndrome, not Down syndrome, because I am always happy and not sad. I like him.”
She waved. Dr. White, who was standing with his grandson Philip and Philip's wife, Amber, waved back. Joy's father, Caleb Mast, was standing with them. The group came toward Greta and her family.
Caleb held out his hand to Toby. “I hope my daughter didn't upset your sister. Joy can be a little overwhelming, but she means well.”
Greta could tell Toby was keeping a watchful eye on Marianne, but he seemed content to let her find her way with the other children. As Greta had suspected, they were welcoming and ignored her self-conscious efforts to hide her scars.
Amber, who was the local nurse-midwife, gave Lizzie a hug. “You look good. I think pregnancy has finally started to agree with you.”
“That's because I can eat like a horse now without morning sickness. Amber, this is Toby Yoder and the little girl with him is his sister, Marianne. They were on their way to Pennsylvania and got stuck at our place during the storm.”
“How fortunate for you,” Philip said. “Naomi is one of the best cooks in the county. It was a sad day for the Wadler Inn and the Shoofly Pie Café when she gave up her spatula and married Woolly Joe. Naomi, you are going to teach your daughter how to make your special scrumptious shoofly pie, aren't you?”
“Maybe someday. For now, I just like hearing how much folks miss my cooking.”
Amber turned to Greta. “Lizzie told me that you were bringing your uncle back from Fort Wayne, Indiana, to stay with you because he had open heart surgery. How is he doing?”
“I'm not sure. He has severe attacks of chest pain.”
“Angina?” Philip said.
“The discharge nurse called it unstable angina. The pills they gave him seem to help. He puts one under his tongue. If it doesn't help right away, he takes a second one. I've never seen him take more than two, but I'm worried that I will find him unconscious. Then what do I do?”
“They teach us to think ABC,” Amber said. “Check A, is his airway open? Then B, is he breathing, and C for cardiac, which means to check if he has a pulse.”
“How do I check that?”
“The easiest way is to press your fingers to the side of his throat. You should feel a steady beat under your fingertips. Check mine.” Amber lifted her chin.
Feeling a little foolish, Greta did. Amber was right. It was easy to feel the beat. “If I find A, B and C, then what?”
“If he is still unconscious, you can call for an ambulance,” Philip said.
Greta folded her arms over her chest. “He does not wish to go back to the hospital.”
“Then you honor his wishes,” Dr. White said.
“
Danki.
That is what I will do.” Greta smiled at the older man's understanding.
Amber laid a hand on Greta's arm and tugged her away from the group. When they were out of earshot, she said, “I was wondering if you could help me with something, Greta?”
“Anything that's within my power. What do you need?”
“The other day, I saw a young Amish woman in the clinic. She thought that her husband might be abusive. She wasn't sure. She grew up in a very strict family. She wasn't sure if her husband's actions were abusive or simply discipline. I have worked among the Amish for many years as a midwife and I have rarely seen outright abuse. But one case is one too many. Clara has told me about the way your uncle treated all of you. She mentioned that you are interested in pursuing a career in counseling.”
“I am.” Or she had been until Toby arrived in her life. She couldn't possibly go on with her education if she had plans to become an Amish wife. Although she knew she was getting the cart before the horse, she couldn't help but dream about the possibility.
“My husband and I have talked it over, and we want to start an abuse education campaign among the Amish,” Amber said.
Intrigued, Greta asked, “How would you do this?”
Amber's face grew animated. “We want to run informational articles in the newspaper and in the Amish monthly magazine. We already have a column called âAsked the Doctor,' so that won't be hard. What will be hard is getting the women to talk to us.”
“So how can I help?”
“We need someone who is Amish, someone who understands what abuse is, to be available to talk to these women, or children, if they come forward with questions.”
It made sense. Few women would openly admit such a thing. “Have you talked to the bishops in this area about this?”
“I have talked to Bishop Zook and several of the bishops from other congregations. Some are on board with this. Some are not. I truly think it's a lack of education about the issue that prevents them from making a decision in our favor. Hence the articles in the newspaper.”
The Amish newspaper and magazine were read by Amish people all across the nation. Greta began to share some of Amber's excitement. “I think you are onto something.”
“Thank you. I understand that Bishop Zook and other bishops are reluctant to interfere between a husband and wife, but if they are willing to listen to what my husband and I have to say, we may help any number of women and men. When Bishop Zook counsels couples, he wants to do the right thing. However, Philip and I are outsiders. It doesn't matter how long we've lived in this community, we're not Amish. If we could assure the bishop and others that we have an Amish woman willing to be our helper, that might ease their minds. Are you interested?”
“I'm more than interested.” A chance to do what she wanted without leaving her Amish faith seemed almost too good to be true. What would Toby think of her decision? Would it change things between them?
Amber grinned. “I'm so glad.”
“I do have one question?”
“We would pay you a salary.”
“That isn't my question. The young woman who came to see you, was it someone I know?”
“I don't think so. Her family was not from this area.”
“Was her husband being abusive?”
“I believe that he was.”
“We can educate people, but can we change them?”
“With God's help, anything is possible. If we get the bishops on board, then I believe we will begin to see changes in what is acceptable behavior.”
“So when do we start?” Greta asked.
“Come by the office anytime after the first of the year. Our first article is scheduled to run in the newspaper the day after New Year's. I'm sending an invitation to all the area bishops to meet with us on the morning of January sixth. I know it's a holiday for the Amish, but that way none of them will have to miss work. If you could come to that meeting, it would be awesome.”
“Do you really think it can make a difference?” Greta tried to quell her growing elation.
“I don't know, but I do know this. Nothing will change if we don't try.”
“I will come to your meeting. If Bishop Zook says this is acceptable, I will be happy to work with you.”
“And if he believes it is not acceptable?”
“He will. I know he will. This is where the Lord has been leading me. I feel it.”
* * *
Toby sensed Greta's excitement the moment she returned to his side. “What's up?”
“Amber said they want to start an abuse-education program for the Amish. They want me to be the go-between for Amish women who don't feel comfortable talking to outsiders.”
“Can you do it? Can you listen to others who have been hurt the way you were and help them forgive the person who hurt them?”
“It's not just about forgiveness. It's about making men and women aware of what is right and what is wrong. I have felt called to help abuse victims ever since I arrived at my grandfather's home. I saw then that living in fear isn't normal. It isn't how God wants His children to live. If I can help others without leaving the community I love, it will truly be an answer to my prayers.”
Toby understood and respected her passion, but he knew that what she wanted was only half the battle she faced. “You say it's not about forgiveness, but for us it is. We believe it must be the first step and not the last one. Have you forgiven your uncle?”
She looked away. “I'm trying. Where is Marianne?”
He allowed her to change the subject although they would go back to it one day soon. “She's on the swing set with Joy. They seem to be getting along really well.”
“I knew she would find acceptance here. Have you told her that you are staying?”
“Not yet. She has her heart set on going back to Pennsylvania. I have my heart set on staying here.” His heart was standing in front of him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright at the prospect of helping others. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love anyone.
“You will have to tell her soon. Arles's van will be repaired in a few days.”
“I know. I haven't found the right time.” He wasn't sure how Marianne would react. She had suffered so much. If she refused to stay here, he would have no choice but to leave, too. He didn't want to think about that possibility. He couldn't put his happiness before hers.
“You should take her home to Pennsylvania and return when she is settled.”
Had he been mistaken? He thought Greta realized how important his sister's well-being was to him. “I can't leave her there. I can't. After all that has happened to her, I have to take care of her. I can't dump her on someone else and expect to live with myself.”
“I wasn't suggesting that.”
“It sounded a little bit like you were.”
“Please, let's not fight. It's Christmas Eve.”
“I'm sorry. I want so much for Marianne to be happy here. To want to stay.”
“I know you do and she will be, but you can't keep her in the dark much longer.”
“Okay. We can tell her tomorrow, on Christmas morning. You and me together. What you think?”
She smiled and his chest filled with happiness. “I think it's a wonderful idea.”
As they rode home in the sleigh with her family that evening, Toby held Greta's hand beneath the quilt again and refused to consider it might be for the last time. Marianne was growing to love Greta and her family. She would be happy that he wanted to settle here.
She had to be.
Please, Lord, let it be Your will.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
S
creams woke Greta. She sat bolt upright in the darkness. She was in her bed, but this wasn't a dream. The smell of heavy smoke filled her nostrils. She grabbed Betsy. “Get up. There's a fire. Wake everyone.”
Throwing back the covers, Greta raced downstairs toward the screaming. Marianne stood in the doorway to Morris's bedroom with the cat in her arms. Beyond her, Greta saw flames leaping up the bedspread from a fallen lamp.
She grabbed Marianne by the shoulders. “Get back. Get your brother.”
The child's stood frozen in place. Holding the sleeve of her robe over her face, Greta plunged into the room rapidly filling with smoke. “
Onkel
, can you hear me? Where are you?”
She heard a moan and saw his foot protruding from the other side of the bed. Grabbing a quilt off a nearby chair, she tossed it over the flames to smother them. It choked off a portion of the fire, but not all of it. The smoldering mattress poured black smoke into the air. Even with her mouth covered, it was choking her. She dropped to her knees and crawled toward her uncle.
“Greta?” She heard Toby shouting for her.
“Here!” She looked back and saw the light from the lantern in his hand. “Get Marianne and the others out. I've got to help my uncle.”
“I'll be back for you.” He picked up his sister and vanished from the doorway.
Greta's eyes were watering so hard she could barely see, but it was easier to breathe near the floor. She kept crawling until her hand touched her uncle's leg. She took hold of his feet and tried to move him, but she couldn't. She needed better leverage. Taking a deep breath, she stood and pulled with all her might.
He moved a little. Inch by inch, she pulled him away from the bed toward the door. Twice she had to drop to the floor to get a breath. Her lungs were burning. The third time she stood up, she felt someone beside her.
“I've got him. Go!” Toby shouted in her ear.
“I must find his medicine.” She knew Morris kept his pills on his nightstand. Groping her way to the wall, she located the vial, gripped it tightly and staggered out of the room toward the kitchen, still half blinded by the smoke. Carl and her grandfather were wetting towels and blankets at the sink and wrapping wet clothes over their faces. They raced past her as she lurched toward the front door, coughing and gagging. She opened it, but her strength deserted her. She sagged against the doorjamb, unable to go on. Toby was right behind her. He had her uncle slung over his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around her and half carried her outside.
Naomi, Lizzie, Betsy and Marianne were gathered on the sidewalk, huddling together in the bone-chilling cold with quilts over their shoulders. Betsy put an arm around Greta's waist to help her stand.
Lizzie pointed toward the barn. “Carl said we should go down to the lambing shed and wait there. It has a propane heater and there is a cot for Morris. How is he?”
“Alive,” Toby said. He headed across the snow-covered ground.
Barefoot, Greta followed and prayed for her uncle as the cold bit deep into her feet. The straw on the lambing shed floor was a blessed relief when she reached it.
Naomi quickly pulled a small army cot out from under a stack of burlap bags and set it up near the stove. Betsy located a pair of battery-powered lamps and turned them on. Lizzie lit the heater. Almost instantly, warmth began to push back the chill of the room.
Toby laid Morris down and took a step back. “I need to help the men.”
“Go, we're fine,” Naomi assured him.
Marianne launched herself across the small room and threw her arms around him. “Don't leave me.”
He dropped to his knees and held her away from him. “I have to help Carl and Joe. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Stay with Greta.”
Greta pulled the child away. She read the pain in his eyes, but he rushed out the door leaving Marianne screaming his name. Naomi led the girl to the heater and wrapped a quilt around her. “Don't fret. Your brother is a brave fellow and he loves you. He'll be back as soon as he can. Pray for him and trust God to keep him safe.”
Marianne curled into a ball, rocking back and forth as she wept. Greta didn't know if she heard Naomi's words or not.
Greta moved to kneel beside Morris. She tucked the covers around his shoulders. His eyes fluttered, but he didn't open them. She checked his pulse as Amber White had taught her to do and found it erratic. She opened the pill bottle still clutched in her hand and forced a small white tablet under his tongue.
A shiver racked her body. She sat back on her heels and waited. Naomi, Lizzie and Betsy stood in the doorway. Their gazes were fixed on the house as they waited for the men to reappear.
“I don't see flames,” Betsy said. Her breath rose in white puffs.
“Where are they?” Lizzie wrapped her arms across her middle.
Betsy bit her thumbnail as she gazed outside. “The smoke was so thick, maybe they've been overcome. I'm going to go check on them.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Naomi said firmly. “They know we are safe. Having one of us run back into danger will only make their job more difficult. We stay here, and we pray.”
Like all of them, Naomi was bareheaded. She lifted the quilt from her shoulders and draped it over her hair. Everyone did the same. Their faith required them to cover their heads when praying.
She bowed her head. “Heavenly father, deliver our brave men from danger. Keep them safe, and return them to us unharmed. If it be Your will, spare our home and our belongings. Help us bear this trial with the knowledge that all we have comes to us by Your grace alone. We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.”
Please let Toby be safe.
With the rest of her sisters, Greta echoed, “Amen.”
Betsy pointed. “I see someone coming.”
Greta rose and hurried to the door to look out. “Who is it?”
Shaking her head, Betsy said, “I can't tell. It's too dark.” She held her lamp higher.
It wasn't until the figure reached the circle of light that they could see it was Joseph. Naomi rushed to wrap her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and patted her back. He looked at his granddaughters. “The fire is out, but part of the wall has come down. The place is filled with smoke. You might as well make yourselves comfortable out here for the night.”
“Where is Carl?” Lizzie asked with a quiver in her voice.
“He and Toby are dragging the burnt bedding out back. They will be here shortly.”
“God be praised,” Naomi said.
“He was watching out for us tonight. Thanks to Marianne, we were all warned in time.”
The child was still huddled by the heater. Greta sat down beside her and wrapped her arms around her. “Did you hear what my grandfather said? We were all saved because of you. I know this was terribly frightening, but it's over.”
Marianne looked up. There were tear tracks through the soot on her face. “Christmas jumped on me and woke me up. I followed her downstairs, and I saw Morris fall and drop the lamp. I was so scared. I grabbed Christmas, but I couldn't run. Where is my brother?”
“He will be back soon.”
Greta heard a moan from her uncle, and she moved to kneel beside his cot. “
Onkel
Morris, can you hear me?”
He moaned again.
“Do you need another pill? I have them right here.”
He nodded and opened his mouth. She quickly placed one under his tongue. After a few moments, the furrows of pain in his brow began to ease.
“It must make you happy to see me suffer,” he managed to mutter.
She sat back on her heels as the truth struck her harder than he ever had. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but it doesn't.”
“You hate me. You've always hated me.” His voice grew stronger.
“I don't. I did once, but not anymore. I forgive you.” In that instant, she was free of all the bitterness she had carried in her heart for so long. Her soul wanted to sing with joy.
“You should have let me die.”
She tucked the blanket around his shoulders. “God makes that decision. I don't get to make it, and you don't get to make it. When He calls you home, nothing I do or say will make a difference.”
Morris drew a deeper breath. “Help me sit up.”
“I think you should take it easy for a few minutes.”
“All right. I might rest a moment longer.”
“Take as long as you need.”
“Why are you being kind to me?”
“Because our Lord commands it. We are to love those that despise us and care for those who persecute us. Matthew 5:43â45.”
He closed his eyes and recited,“âYe have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.'”
She continued when he stopped. “âBut I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.'”
“I know the words.”
“It is not enough to know the words,
Onkel.
We must live them.”
Morris coughed harshly. Greta gave him a sip of water and helped him to lie back. “Rest now.”
“I will have all the rest I need when I'm dead.”
“Well, don't make me dig a grave in the frozen ground. Have the decency to wait until spring.”
He started cackling. “You sound so much like your mother.”
“I'm not at all like her. Lizzie is a spitting image of her.”
“Lizzie may look like her, but you have that special something that she had. I was in love with her, you know.”
“You were in love with our mother?” Greta tried to hide her shock.
“Hard to believe, isn't it.”
“Did she...” Greta's voice trailed away.
“Did she feel the same?
Nee.
She couldn't abide me. I had to watch her marry my brother. He didn't deserve her. She found that out eventually. Do you know how hard it was to watch them together? Day after day, year after year, he held the woman who should have been mine. I came to hate them both.”
“But you married, too.”
“Yes, I married, but I never loved my wife. She knew it. Your mother knew it. My brother had children and I had none. My father was right. Only the strong can survive in this world.”
“That is why we must depend on the Lord to hold us up. He is our strength and our salvation.”
“I hope that's true. I guess I will find out soon enough.”
“You say you never had children, but you had us. Before
Mamm
died, she wanted you to take care of us. That must have meant that she cared for you, respected you.”
“As your mother lay dying, she said, âSend the children to my father. He will give them a loving home.' Even at the end, she couldn't turn to me for help.”
“But you told us that she wanted us to stay with you. You wrote to my grandfather and told him his only daughter wanted nothing to do with him.”
“Now you know the truth. I am a bitter and vengeful man. Everything I loved was taken away from me. I did my best to make you strong women. You might not think that, but that was my goal. Only the strong prosper.”
“I will tell you what you are. You are an old, sick man, who has no one to love and no one to love him. But your life is not over yet. You have a chance to admit your faults and ask God's forgiveness. It is never too late.”
“Do you really think He can forgive the likes of me?”
“I have forgiven you. My sisters have forgiven you. God is so much greater than we are. How can you doubt His capacity to forgive? The only thing in doubt is your ability to repent. All you have to do is tell Him you are sorry. Three simple words. Father, I'm sorry. It's Christmas,
Onkel.
This night God sent His only Son to bring us salvation. What better night to honor that gift by accepting it into your heart.”
Greta heard Marianne's glad cry and looked toward the door. Toby, his pajamas covered in soot, was truly the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. In that instant, she knew she loved him. She would love him all her life.
Marianne dropped the cat and flew to him. Toby lifted his sister in his arms and came to stand beside the cot.
Greta wanted to throw herself into his arms, too. She wanted to share with him the joy that forgiveness had unleashed in her heart. He would understand the wonder of it and rejoice with her. Instead, she stayed where she was and silently thanked God for safely delivering him and all her family.
“Are you all right, sir?” he asked, looking down at Morris.
“I'm better now. Help me to my feet.”
“You should rest. All of you should get what rest you can. It will be daylight before we can assess the damage to the house. It will be safer if we all stay here.”
Marianne lifted her tear-stained face from his shoulder. “Take me home now, Toby. I don't want to stay here anymore. I want
Aenti
Linda. I want my family. I want to go home. Please take me home. Please, please, let's go home.”
He patted Marianne's back, but his gaze locked with Greta's. “I will, honey. I'll take you home as soon as I can.”
“Promise?”
He held her tight, but his eyes never left Greta's face. “I promise.”
Greta turned away so he couldn't see that her heart was breaking into little pieces. He wouldn't be staying. He would take his sister home, and Greta would never see them again. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she willed them away. She understood why he had to leave, but that didn't lessen her pain.
Carl and Joseph opened several bales of hay and shook the tightly packed leaves into a bedding of sorts. The women spread their quilts on top of the hay and everyone settled in to wait out the night.