Patricia Davids - An Amish Christmas Journey

Arles left Toby’s side and approached Mr. Barkman. “Good to have you with us, sir. I’ll do my best to make it an easy journey. Shall I put your things in the van?”

“Greta can do it. She’s good with simple tasks,” Mr. Barkman snapped.

Toby caught a glimpse of the covert glance she shot her uncle. Her eyes filled with dislike before she looked down and schooled her features into blankness. Toby’s interest sharpened. The tension between the uncle and niece was palpable. It might prove to be an uncomfortable trip with these two in the van.

The nurse said, “Please take the bags out, Mr. Hooper. I need to speak with Miss Barkman about her uncle’s care.”

Toby continued to study the young Amish woman who looked to be in her early twenties. Her knuckles stood out white against her dark clothing where her hands were clenched tightly into fists. She seemed taut as a bowstring.

She glanced his way, and her eyes softened when she caught sight of his sister. A gentle smile curved her lips and changed her features from pleasant looking to sweetly appealing. He found himself smiling in turn. She looked up from his sister and met his gaze.

Appealing was right. Instantly, he felt a strange connection. Her eyes widened. He was right. They were a light, lively golden brown. He couldn’t seem to break the contact. Who was Greta Barkman? What was she thinking? He wanted to know.

She looked away first, and his unexpected connection with her was broken. The nurse had called her Miss Barkman, so she wasn’t married.

He gave a small shake of his head. Interest in a pretty woman should be the last thing on his mind. He needed to get Marianne home to Pennsylvania, find a job and look after her. She was his priority now. He planned to spend the rest of his life taking care of her. He owed her that much and more.

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched, then grabbed his hand. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

The treatment for her burns had been painful, leaving her leery of physical contact, but she didn’t want him out of her sight. He knelt in front of her. “Of course not. We’re going home to Pennsylvania together.”

“I don’t want these other people around.”

“I know, honey, but it can’t be helped. Don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

* * *

Greta caught the interplay between the young girl in the wheelchair and the handsome man with her. It was comforting to see such a close relationship. Her own troubled history gave her a heightened sense of awareness about others, particularly young women. The man was a nice-looking Amish fellow with dark hair, intelligent dark eyes and a winning smile. There was something compelling in his gaze that intrigued her.

“There are some things we need to go over, Miss Barkman. It should only take a few minutes,” the nurse said, drawing Greta’s attention once more.

“Of course.” She managed a stiff smile.

“Please ask if you have any questions. I’ve included my cell phone number at the top of the paperwork. When I spoke with Mr. Hooper about this trip, he assured me you would be able to use his phone if you need to. Mr. Hooper understands that he’ll have to make frequent stops for Mr. Barkman’s well-being.”

“A lot of good that will do. What if I need to lie down?” Morris asked.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make you comfortable, Onkel, ” Greta assured him.

“You and your sisters have brought me nothing but shame and hardship. Traveling with you will not bring me comfort.”

Greta pressed her lips together to hold back her comment. She had come prepared to treat her uncle with civility, but his attitude was making it difficult. He hadn’t changed at all. If anything, he was openly hostile now. Before, he had taken pains to keep his cruelty hidden.

The nurse pushed Morris toward a nearby door. “We will have more privacy inside our Quiet Room. I’m Mrs. Collins, the discharge nurse for our Cardiac Care Unit.”

Greta rushed to hold open the door for them. The nurse said, “Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Barkman. I need to review Mr. Barkman’s going-home instructions with you both.”

She pulled a clipboard from a pocket on the back of the wheelchair and stepped around to face Morris. She held out the clipboard and a pen. “I need your permission to share your medical information with your niece. Would you sign on the bottom, please?”

“I don’t see why she needs to know anything.”

“Your medications are complex and should you develop any problems, your niece must know what to do. A patient can’t very well take nitroglycerin if they are unconscious. This is hypothetical, of course, but you do see my point, don’t you?”

Morris pulled the document toward him and scribbled his name across the bottom. “Tell her anything you like, but I don’t have to stay and listen to it.”

“Very well. You may wait outside until Mr. Hooper can take you to the van.”

Mrs. Collins wheeled Morris out and after a few minutes, the woman returned alone. She smiled as she sat down across from Greta. “I’m sorry. Your uncle has not been the most cooperative patient.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Please tell me what I need to know.”

The nurse’s face softened. “Your uncle sustained a massive heart attack. The doctors here did a triple bypass surgery, but even with restored blood flow, some of his heart muscle has been severely damaged.”

“I’m surprised he agreed to the surgery. It is not our way.”

“We were surprised, as well, but I’m afraid in spite of the surgery his prognosis is not good.”

Greta frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“He continues to have episodes of chest pain, what we call unstable angina. He has medicine that he needs to take as soon as these episodes begin. The pain is caused by a lack of blood flow to his already weakened heart. Your uncle’s heart was so damaged that he is not a candidate for another procedure. The best we can offer is palliative care.”

“What does this mean, palliative ?” Greta thought she understood the sympathy in the woman’s words but she needed to be sure.

“It means we want to make your uncle’s last months as comfortable as possible. He is not going to get better.”

“Morris is dying?” Greta felt the air rush out of her lungs.

Chapter Three

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?”