An Amish Christmas Journey. Patricia Davids
rush out of her lungs.
The man who made her life miserable for years would die soon.
Greta took a deep, unsteady breath and looked at the nurse. “Does my uncle know he won’t get better?”
Mrs. Collins nodded. “He is aware of his prognosis, but I don’t believe that he has accepted it. I’m sorry to give you such bad news. He tells us he has no close family or friends. Frankly, we were all very surprised by that. The Amish people we have treated in the past have been surrounded by caring family and church members.”
Greta waited to feel something, anything, but all she felt was numb. Over the years, after some of her worst beatings at his hands, she had prayed that God would call him to judgment. God hadn’t answered her then. Why now?
Her common sense reasserted itself. Her uncle’s illness was part of God’s larger plan. It had nothing to do with the wishes of the scared and angry girl she had once been.
The scared, angry woman she still was.
How many times had she offered her forgiveness up to God? And how many times had her anger raised its ugly head the way it was doing now? She didn’t want to hate him. She only wanted to be free of him. And soon she would be.
This news changed so much. She wasn’t sure what to say to him or how to act. It suddenly struck her that this could be his last Christmas.
Greta gripped her bag tightly. “How long do you think he has?”
“Our best guess is a few months. With good care, it could be longer. We can’t say for sure.”
“Of course. Only God knows when our time here is done. Is he...is he suffering?”
“Angina attacks can be painful and very frightening, but on the whole he isn’t in pain. He does tire easily so make sure he gets enough rest.”
“I will.” Greta looked at the floor. Could she take care of him? Why was God placing the burden on her?
The nurse handed Greta several pamphlets and a typewritten list. “These are some important points for you to know. They cover diet suggestions, exercise, pain management, things that can make his quality of life better. I also have some information on end-of-life issues. You may want to look over this and discuss it with your family members and perhaps your minister. And with Mr. Barkman when he is ready.”
Greta took the pamphlets and tucked them into her bag. “You mentioned something about medicines?”
“Yes. These are his prescriptions. I will give your driver directions to a pharmacy near here. Your uncle has a vial of small white pills with him called nitroglycerin. He is to put one under his tongue at the first sign of chest pain. I have written out what you need to do if that doesn’t help. I know this is a lot for you to take in. Are you sure you are okay with this?”
“I believe I understand everything you have said. What about his bill?”
“That’s been covered in full.”
By his church no doubt. At least his congregation had done that for him even if they wouldn’t take him in. It was strange that her uncle’s bishop hadn’t mentioned the fact in his letter.
Mrs. Collins handed over a business card. “This is my personal number. Call me anytime you have questions. Day or night, it doesn’t matter. I only wish we could have done more for your uncle.”
“He is in God’s hands. It is as the Lord wills.”
“Yes. We are all in God’s hands. We all struggle to do the best we can in an imperfect world. I pray God gives both you and your uncle the comfort you need.”
She rose to her feet and left Greta alone.
* * *
Toby spoke to the driver who was pushing the empty cart inside after having loaded Mr. Barkman’s things. “Arles, is it all right if we get settled in the van?”
“Sure. Do you need a hand?”
“Nee, I can manage.”
Mr. Barkman was slowly wheeling himself toward the door. There was no sign of his niece yet.
Arles caught sight of him. “Just a minute, sir, and I’ll help you.”
Mr. Barkman grunted but didn’t answer.
Toby pulled on his coat. From a nearby chair, he picked up the duffel bag that contained all his and his sister’s worldly belongings. The fire hadn’t left them much. Neighbors and his coworkers had contributed clothing and essentials. He had enough money to pay their way and get by on this trip, but not much else. He figured they could wait until they were back in Pennsylvania and he was working again to purchase anything else they might need. When he could find work.
His mother’s sister and her husband were taking them in. With eleven children of her own, his aunt assured him that two more would hardly be noticed. He was grateful for her kindness. She believed living with a big and lively family would help Marianne recover. He prayed she was right.
He pushed his sister’s wheelchair out the sliding glass doors and up to the van. He held out his hand to steady her as she gingerly stood. She wavered slightly but managed to step into the van. He worried that she was still so weak. She should have been gaining strength, but she wasn’t. It was as if she didn’t want to get better.
Inside the van were three rows of double seats along the left side and a row of three single seats along the right side upholstered in brown and cream vinyl. A narrow aisle led to a full bench seat at the rear. There was a luggage compartment behind that.
The passenger’s seat by the driver, the first two rows and all the single seats were taken by the Coblentz family, a tall, thin father, a plump mother with four stair-step blond boys and an older woman with a toddler beside her. Toby nodded to the occupants as he followed Marianne. She bypassed the last empty row and went straight to the bench in the back. Toby propped his duffel bag in the corner and sat down beside her. She lay down on the bench.
He took off his coat and folded it into a pillow for her. “Here. Use this.”
She took it from him without a word.
Leaning back, he closed his eyes as exhaustion took over. He was eager to get to Bird-in-Hand where his aunt had a real bed waiting for him. He’d spent most of the past two months sleeping in a chair or on the couch in the burn-unit waiting room and then on a cot in his sister’s room. He hadn’t left her side for more than an hour since she had been transferred out of the ICU. She quickly became panicked when he was out of sight.
After a little while, the outside door of the van opened again. Toby watched as Mr. Barkman was helped in by the driver. He sat down and sighed heavily as he put his cane on the seat beside him. A few minutes later, Greta got in. She stopped beside her uncle, waiting for him to move his cane so she could sit down.
He glared at her. “I may have to travel in the same van but I refuse to sit beside this sinner. She and her sisters have been shunned by our church. She is under the Bann.”
Everyone in the van turned to look at her in shock. Then, one by one, the adults turned away from her, their backs rigid with disapproval. Toby wondered what she had done to earn such condemnation from her congregation.
She looked around. No one else made room for her. She had no choice but to move to the back where he sat.
She kept her gaze lowered, but her cheeks were blazing red with embarrassment. “Sir, may I sit here?”
Greta waited for the man in the backseat to answer her. Humiliation burned deep in her chest. Her hopes that Morris had seen the error of his ways and had become a