but the girl’s voice was definitely weaker. She needed to rest it.
Just then, Toby returned bearing gifts. He held three foam cups in his hands. He set them on the end of the bench and passed them around. “Coffee for you, Greta, and hot chocolate for you, Marianne.”
“Danki.” Greta took the beverage from him.
Marianne eagerly accepted hers. He sat down and took a sip from his cup. “Not bad.”
“Delicious,” Greta added. She glanced toward Morris. He was bent over. Was he talking to the cat? The animal paced back and forth in front of him still meowing.
Greta looked down at the drink in her hands as she tried to quell the bitterness that rose in her throat. He could treat a stray cat with kindness but not his own kin.
She focused on Toby. “Your sister was telling me that she likes peach pie. I have a friend whose husband loves peach pie. His name is Levi Beachy and he makes buggies in our town. What do you do, Toby?”
“I work at a factory that builds RVs in Fort Wayne, or I did until recently. Before that, our family lived in Pennsylvania. There, I was a wood-carver, but the shop where my father and I were employed closed and we couldn’t find work. That’s why we moved to Fort Wayne. I’m not sure what I will do now, but Marianne and I will figure that out together.”
He looked at his sister as she sipped her chocolate with relish, and he smiled softly. Toby was a kind and caring brother. It made Greta miss her sisters. She would love to have them here with her now.
The cat jumped in her lap scaring the wits out of her. She jerked in fright, sloshing hot coffee on her hand. The cat ran back to her uncle. Greta saw him leaning heavily on his cane and clutching his chest.
Greta dropped her drink and hurried toward him.
“Are you all right, Onkel?” she asked when she reached his side.
“Need my...pills.” He was fumbling at his vest pocket.
Greta quickly extracted a small vial. Her fingers trembled as she opened the lid and shook a pill into his hand. He put it under his tongue.
Toby slipped his arms around the old man’s shoulders and behind his knees. He lifted him like a child, carried him to the bench and laid him down. Morris was breathing heavily. Toby looked at Greta. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“Ja.”
“Nee.” Morris shook his head. “It’s better.”
“Are you sure?” She knelt in front of him.
He gave her a sour look. “You won’t have to pay for my burial yet, Mouse.”
Greta took a deep breath and disguised her shame with a show of indifference. It was a skill she had learned well living with him. But Lizzie wouldn’t let such a jab go unanswered. Greta narrowed her eyes. “That’s good to know, Onkel. My expense account is woefully inadequate at the moment.”
That took him aback. It did her good to see his surprise. The mouse hadn’t roared, but it squeaked.
Was there any way to reach him? To make him see how hurtful his words could be? Had he really tried to make her fall out of the van, or was it an accident as he claimed? She couldn’t be sure.
When she and her sisters had lived with him, his abuse had been overt. A beating with a belt or with a wooden rod. That punishment wasn’t available to him with so many people around. She didn’t want to believe the worst of him, but she had never seen anything else.
“Help me up,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She hesitated. Why should she? Why had she even come?
A second later, she knew the answer as clearly as if God had spoken to her. She was here because it was the right thing to do. Returning evil for evil did no one any good. Taking his hand, she pulled him into a sitting position.
He sighed heavily. “I would like a cup of tea.”
She kept one hand under his elbow as he stood. Toby stayed close until she had Morris seated at a booth inside the diner. Toby and Marianne chose their own table and sat away from the group. Marianne sat next to the wall, sinking into the corner as if hiding from the world. Greta’s heart went out to her.
Morris was watching them, too. “Why does she keep her hand at the side of her face all the time? Is she looking for attention?”
“I think she is self-conscious about the scars on her neck and face. She was burned in the house fire that killed her parents.”
“They aren’t noticeable scars. She’s vain.”
Compelled to defend the sweet child, Greta glared at her uncle. “To a girl that age they must seem enormous and ghastly. She deserves our kindness not our judgment.”
He turned his attention to the waitress and ordered tea. Greta ordered a cup of soup and a slice of peach pie.
Her uncle’s color improved steadily. He soon seemed to be his old self. He complained that the tea was lukewarm and sent it back. Then he asked for a glass of ice because it arrived too hot to drink.
When he finished his tea, he rose and headed for the restrooms at the back of the diner. He stumbled and staggered sideways a step before regaining his balance and heading on. Greta caught Toby’s eye. He nodded and then indicated his sister with a glance in her direction. Greta nodded, too. Toby rose to follow her uncle while Greta moved to sit with Marianne. It was amazing how easily they communicated with only a shared look. He wasn’t like anyone she had met before. She quickly pushed her interest in him to the back of her mind.
Taking her uneaten pie as a pretense, she sat down at the same table with the child. “Would you like my pie? I don’t have room for it.”
Marianne nodded. Greta pushed the dish toward her. She folded her hands and smiled. “I have always wanted to travel to Pennsylvania. Is it pretty?”
Marianne nodded again.
“Are you and your brother visiting family there?”
“We’re going to live with my aenti.”
“You and your brother?”
“Ja.”
“I’m very sorry about your parents. My parents have gone to heaven, too, so I know your sadness. I miss them although I know they are happy with God. I’m not alone, though. I have three sisters and we all look out for each other the way your brother has been looking out for you on this trip. You are blessed that he was spared.”
Marianne didn’t say anything, so Greta forged ahead. “It’s hard to talk about the people we have lost, but you don’t have to be afraid. You can tell me about it.”
“Nee, you will hate me.”
“We must never hate anyone, Marianne.” If only she could follow her own advice.
“It was my fault
