paying her bill, Greta went outside, too. The Coblentz family was already in the van. Greta got in and sat at the back with Marianne. The girl lay curled onto her side facing the back of the seat. Greta couldn’t see her face. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
The child ignored her. Greta chewed her lower lip. She had been trying to help but she may have made things worse. Morris and Toby came out of the restaurant a short time later. Mr. Hooper started the van as Toby climbed in behind Morris. A loud thunk from the engine and a cat’s screech startled everyone.
Arles and Toby went to the front of the vehicle. Greta got out, and Marianne followed her.
Arles lifted the hood of the van. Toby leaned in and pulled the limp cat free. It was the same calico that had fawned over Greta’s uncle earlier. The poor thing had been hit by the fan blade. It bore an awful gash on the side of its neck and most of its left ear was missing.
“Help her,” Marianne pleaded with tears in her eyes.
Greta quickly offered her handkerchief. “Use this to stop the bleeding.”
“Danki.” Toby pressed the cloth to the animal’s head.
“We must find the owner. The poor thing needs a veterinarian,” Greta said.
Toby looked around. “Maybe the restaurant owner or one of the customers will know who she belongs to. I’ll go ask.”
“I’ll take her,” Greta offered. She unbuttoned her coat. Toby handed the animal to her. She wrapped the poor thing in her long apron and tried to soothe her.
The cat started crying pitifully. Marianne watched with wide frightened eyes.
Toby rushed into the restaurant. He caught sight of the cook, a middle-aged Englisch fellow with a large stained apron tied around his ample middle. “We need some help. A cat has been injured. Perhaps you can tell us who owns it.”
“I doubt it, but let me take a look.” He followed Toby outside and adjusted his glasses to peer at the cat in Greta’s arms.
“That’s one of Mrs. Alcorn’s critters. The old woman died a few months ago. The cats are strays now. Some of the neighbors feed this one, but it won’t go inside any of their houses. The old lady had heart trouble. She always said this cat would let her know when she was about to have one of her spells.”
“Perhaps that was why she was pawing at my uncle’s legs,” Greta said. “She sensed he was about to have an attack.”
“Animals have remarkable senses,” Toby said. “Can you tell us where we can find a veterinarian? This poor animal is suffering.”
The cook pointed down a side street. “Doc Harley has a clinic out near the edge of town. You can’t miss it.”
Arles said, “I can’t ask these folks to wait while we take the cat to the vet.”
“We can’t leave the poor thing lying here in the street.” Greta glared at the driver.
“I wasn’t suggesting that. This man can take care of it.”
The cook shook his head. “I’ve got a business to run, and I have customers waiting.” He turned and strode away.
There was no way Toby was going to leave this animal to fend for itself. He’d just have to hire another driver if Arles wouldn’t help. “You can travel on without Marianne and me. I’ll get our bag out of the van. We will expect a refund.”
Scratching his head, Arles said, “Let’s don’t be hasty. I reckon we can take a few minutes to turn the cat over to the veterinarian. Okay?”
“That’s all we’re asking,” Toby said.
Everyone got back into the van and Greta, with the cat wrapped in her apron, took her place in the back. Marianne sat beside her. Greta tried to reassure the child. “Don’t worry. Someone is going to look after her.”
Doc Harley turned out to be a woman in her sixties with short kinky gray hair, a rumpled smock and a no-nonsense manner. She was able to see them after only a brief wait. She examined the cat and smiled at Marianne who was clinging to Greta’s side. “I think it looks worse than it is. Cats are very resilient creatures. She will do fine.”
“But she doesn’t have an ear,” Marianne whispered.
“She will look unusual, but she will still be able to hear. This laceration on her neck is going to need a few stitches. Other than that, I think she’s in pretty good shape. She could use a little more meat on her bones. Has she been eating normally?”
“According to the man at the restaurant, she’s a stray that belonged to Mrs. Alcorn,” Toby said.
“Oh, yes, our resident cat lady. I thought this one looked familiar. It’s the one she called Christmas. The little stray showed up at her house on Christmas morning a year ago. She was very attached to this one. It’s a shame that no one took her after Mrs. Alcorn passed away. If this isn’t your cat, are you still willing to pay for her care?”
Toby’s funds were limited. He looked at the others. Morris shook his head, “I have no money to spend on a cat.”
“If we leave her here, will you take care of her?” Marianne asked.
The vet shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t have room to look after every stray cat that comes this way. I’ll turn her over to the county animal shelter. They’ll try to find someone to adopt her.”
“No one will love her because she’s ugly now,” Marianne said sadly and reached out to stroke the cat’s back.
Toby heard the pain in his sister’s voice and knew she was expressing her own fears. He wanted so much to help her, but he didn’t know how.
Greta said, “She’s a lovely cat. A missing ear and a few scars won’t change that. I’ll pay for her care today, and I’ll take her home.”
“All right.” The vet smiled brightly. “Let me take her into surgery to clean these cuts and stitch her up. You can have a seat in the waiting room. It may take an hour or so.”
As the vet walked away, Marianne looked up at Greta. “Are you sure you want to keep her? People will stare and make fun of her because she’s different.”
“You don’t intend to drag that cat along with us, do you? Leave it here,” Morris said, his voice laced with disgust.
Greta’s back straightened. “I do intend to take Christmas with us. She needs a home, and I like her. I don’t care that she looks different. She has a good heart and that is more important than her appearance. She tried to help you. We just weren’t smart enough to know what she was trying to tell us.”
Toby admired the way she stood up to her grumpy uncle and gave his sister a gentle lesson, as well. Looks were not everything. Goodness mattered.
“Foolishness, that’s all it is.” Morris settled in a waiting room chair. Marianne sat down a few chairs away from him.
