The Tender Years Page 12

  At last she sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve. She must look a mess. And she felt awfully warm. She struggled to her feet and made her way to the creek.

  No longer the raging torrent that had claimed her friend, it was now subdued—almost silent. It murmured and whispered as it flowed at a gentle pace. Virginia stood and studied it for a moment before falling to her knees on the grassy bank and scooping its cool water to rinse her flushed face. The grass along the banks was still soft and green, even though the neighboring countryside was burnished with the colors of fall.

  Virginia let her hands nestle into the grasses, stretching her fingers deep into the coolness. She wished she could just sit there forever. Cool and comforted. Away from all the hurts of the world. The confusion. The pain.

  “Virginia?”

  The voice was soft. Gentle. Loving. Virginia did not turn her head. She didn’t have to. She knew it was Clara. Her big sister. Virginia felt the tears threaten again. She willed them back.

  Clara said nothing more. Virginia felt, more than saw, the figure of her sister lower herself down beside her on the creek bank. She felt an arm slip companionably about her waist as Clara drew her close. She felt Clara’s cheek pressed against her hair.

  They sat together for what seemed like a long time, quietly watching the water trickle around a fallen log, listening to the gentle murmur of the stream. A frog came up and almost hopped over Virginia’s foot. She would have laughed in other circumstances. She did not laugh now. Just sat and watched. A hornet dipped over the water, reenergizing his body, then buzzed on. A soft stirring in the tree branches sent a scattering of colored leaves twisting and turning in a sprightly dance to the ground.

  At last Clara spoke. “Do you want to talk?”

  Virginia shook her head. No, she did not want to talk. Her own conscience condemned her evil thinking. Clara would never understand. Clara would have to condemn her, also.

  Clara waited.

  “It’s just—” began Virginia, but she had no idea how to go on.

  Clara brushed at the hair against her cheek.

  “Jenny?”

  Clara’s voice was so soft, Virginia could have wondered if she had really spoken. Without wanting to, she nodded her head.

  “She’s been at our home a lot lately, hasn’t she?”

  Virginia nodded again.

  “Too much?”

  Oh, that was an impossible question. If she said no, she’d be lying, but if she said yes, she’d lay bear her evil heart. Clara was bound to lecture.

  But Clara went right on. “You know why Mama is trying to help her. The poor girl has had a hard life. Her own mama having left her and her papa … well, he hasn’t taken very good care of her.”

  Clara sighed, then bent her head to look into Virginia’s face.

  “But that’s not the most important reason. Mama feels that by loving her—accepting her—there will be a better chance to help her see that God loves her. That He wants to forgive her—accept her as one of His family. You know that, don’t you?”

  Virginia managed to nod.

  “Forgiveness is a precious thing,” Clara went on. “One can never have … peace, until one has been forgiven. Really forgiven. All the help we give Jenny will really be … only temporary in meeting her real need—the forgiveness, the peace of God.”

  Virginia squirmed and stared at the creek.

  “Without that forgiveness, that peace, no heart is ever happy. There is always an inner struggle. Pain. Only when God has been invited in—to manage one’s life, to direct one’s thinking, to be in control—can one ever get away from all the conflicts inside. We have to stop struggling against His will before we can find real joy. That’s what Mama wants for Jenny. So then, whatever life brings to her, wherever she might go in the future, she can take that deep, inward happiness, that peace with her. That’s what we are all praying for.”

  Virginia sat silently as the words sank slowly in.

  “That’s what Mama and Papa want for each one of their own, too,” Clara said with a soft squeeze for emphasis.

  Virginia began to sob anew. She turned in her sister’s arms and let all the conflicts pour forth in large, cascading tears. She didn’t have that peace. She hadn’t been willing to let God control her life. She had been fighting against Him. Wishing that He didn’t even exist so she could be in control of her own life—her own universe. But it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t. She just got more and more miserable with each passing day. Her heart was evil. Her thoughts were wrong. She was selfish. Cruel. Mean.

  Clara held her. Virginia could feel Clara’s tears mingling with her own.

  “I love you, little sister. I love you so much,” she heard Clara whisper.

  Virginia could hold herself apart from God no longer. There was no way she could continue to carry her deep burdens alone. She did not want to. Fighting the truth only made it harder to bear.

  “Would you pray with me?” she heard her own voice saying, and she felt Clara’s arms tighten about her.

  It turned out they all went to the farm. In honesty, Virginia would not have claimed that it was easy to include Jenny, but she no longer had the deep anger and jealousy burning within.

  She was glad to be pulled close by her grandmother and greeted warmly. Jenny was simply welcomed as Virginia’s friend. Clara, her mother, and her grandmother gathered around the kitchen table, teacups in hand, and quickly began animated plans for the coming wedding. At Francine’s plea the three girls headed for the barn in search of mother cats with new kittens. The farm dog loped along beside them, glad to have someone to romp with.

  Later, they made lemonade and cut pumpkin loaf, which they took to the porch swing. They settled in the swing together, each with a barn kitten curled up in her lap. Grandmother was still busy with the womenfolk, and Virginia could not help but feel relieved in spite of her newfound peace.

  But she would work on her feelings. She had promised Clara. Had promised God.

  When it was time to go home, her grandmother held her again. Virginia felt sure that Grandma Marty had been told the little secret of her prayer at the creek for she held her extra long, extra close, then leaned over and looked into Virginia’s eyes and whispered, “I love you. I’ll keep praying.” Virginia found it hard to hold back tears.

  Her grandfather joined the little group, a broad smile bringing crinkles to his face while Virginia blinked and swallowed to get her emotions under control.

  “I hear there’s to be a baptism on a Sunday soon,” he said, and it was his turn to give Virginia a warm hug. “Best news I’ve heard me for a long time,” he whispered into her hair. “We’ll be there, you can just count on thet. Grandma and me’ll be there.”

  Virginia managed a thankful smile. It felt good—so good to make her grandparents happy. And even better to have the heavy load of fears and doubts finally off her shoulders. If it was true as her mother said—and Virginia finally believed that it was—that God loved her even more than her family, she was blessed indeed. With His peace in her heart she felt wrapped in love. Loved and protected and totally filled with joy. It was wonderful. She hugged her grandpa back.

  “Well,” said her mother as they settled into the buggy for the return to town. “I feel good about what we accomplished. I knew that Mama would be a big help.”

  Clara laughed. “I guess if experience makes a good teacher, we’ve got us some awful good counsel,” she said. She sounded light. Excited. Virginia supposed that the coming wedding would keep her that way over the winter months.

  “I can hardly wait to discuss it all with Troy,” Clara went on, her voice dreamy.

  Virginia lifted her head and looked at her older sister. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice bubbly, and there was a lively sparkle in her violet eyes. She was getting married. It was finally sinking in. Just as Clara was getting to be—to be nice, she was getting married.

  She would not be living at home anymore. She would be moving out to the littl
e house on Elm Street with the green shutters and the cobblestone walk.

  Virginia felt a lump rising in her throat. She was really going to miss her.

  CHAPTER 12

  Would you like to come with me to Youth Group?”

  Virginia asked the question as she and Jenny walked home together. Jenny seemed to hear and understand the honest invitation in her voice. She looked at Virginia long and carefully before she chose her reply.

  “I … I think I’d like to. I mean … I … Are you sure they … they’d want me?”

  “’Course!” Virginia’s answer was so quick and emphatic that it surprised even herself. Would they want her? All of them? Jenny was an outsider. Different. Jenny had a bad-talking pa who drank too much. Jenny herself used some of his words. Was a thief. A rebel. Would the other young people be comfortable with Jenny among them?

  Virginia thought through her next words more carefully. “I am sure you will be welcome. We have been praying for you and … and the others ever since … the accident.”

  It was now mid-winter. Christmas had already come and gone, and folks had settled in to getting themselves through the chill and snow until spring came. At the Simpsons’, the thoughts and dreams of spring also included the coming marriage of Clara and Troy. Her excited preparations helped to keep the household filled with anticipation, relieving some of the dreariness of the short, cold days.

  “I’d kind of like to,” Jenny said again, “but it’s a little scary, too.”

  “Will your father let you?”

  Jenny paused. “I don’t suppose he’d even know,” she answered slowly. “He never seems to pay much mind to where I am or what I’m doing.”

  “Then there’s no problem.” Virginia tried to put some spirit into her voice to make Jenny feel more comfortable. “You already know all the young people—from school. We’re having a skating party on Friday night down at Conner’s pond.”

  “I … I don’t have any skates.”

  Virginia, surprised, had thought that every kid in town owned skates. There seemed to be no way to surmount this obstacle.

  “Maybe you could just … just come … and watch,” she offered.

  Jenny shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “That wouldn’t be much fun.” She hesitated, then said, “Someone would think they had to watch with me, and that would spoil their fun, too.”

  Virginia supposed that Jenny might be referring to her, and she likely was right. It wouldn’t feel fair for her to spend her time skating if Jenny was sitting alone by the campfire.

  “Maybe next time,” Jenny said quietly. Virginia was sure she detected disappointment in the girl’s voice.

  “Next time we are having a Valentine’s party at the church.”

  Jenny nodded, then turned toward Virginia. “Will you need to have a valentine?”

  Virginia frowned, then shrugged. “Some exchange valentines, but you don’t need to.”

  “I mean, do you need a—you know—boyfriend?”

  “Boyfriend? No. ’Course not. Pastor Doyle doesn’t even want us to … to pair off or anything. Not at our age.”

  “Oh,” said Jenny. Her voice sounded a little flat.

  They walked on in silence. It was Jenny who broke it. “Would your ma and pa let you?”

  “Let me what?”

  “You know—see a boy? Go out with him or let him call or something?”

  Virginia had not even thought about courting.

  “I’m only fourteen,” she answered.

  “Fourteen and a half,” corrected Jenny. “Some girls have beaus by then.”

  “I don’t think my folks would let me.”

  “When did Clara?”

  Virginia had to think back. When was it that Troy had started to call?

  “Sixteen. Almost seventeen.”

  “Seventeen? That’s old.”

  “She’ll be nineteen when they marry. Going on twenty even.”

  “That’s old.”

  “Mama was older than that.”

  “Yeah? My mama was just past sixteen.”

  Virginia stopped and looked at Jenny. Why, that wasn’t much older than Jenny herself. But things had not worked well for Jenny’s mama. Virginia did not mention the fact. She did not wish to hurt her friend.

  “Would you like to?” Jenny pressed the question. “I mean, would you have a beau if they’d let you?”

  Virginia shifted her load of books to her other arm. She had never bothered to think much about going out. Would she like to? Go to Youth Group with a fellow? Hold hands? Let him put his arm around her? Maybe even kiss? She found the thoughts a bit embarrassing—but rather exciting, too. She began to laugh, a nervous, tittering sound.

  “I went with Freddie to—”

  But she stopped. The memory of the soda shared at the local Sweet Shop with the now missing Freddie was still a painful one.

  “I don’t think that really counts,” put in Jenny. “We were with other people.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did you know that Mr. Crell is still mad? He says that he’s gonna get that Marshall man back for what he did to his son.”

  Virginia swung around to face Jenny. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “How do you know? No one remembers for sure. I sure don’t. I was knocked nearly silly on the rocks.”

  “And he saved your life,” Virginia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Wouldn’t have been for him, you’d been in the same fix as Freddie. And … he did too try to save Freddie.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “’Cause. ’Cause he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anybody. He couldn’t. He’s not like that.”

  “How do you know?”

  It was as near to a fight as they had come since renewing their friendship. Virginia felt anger rising within her. She thought back to the day in the woods. To her devastating sobs and Rett Marshall’s hand gently trying to soothe her. He couldn’t do something mean. Something wicked. She just knew it. But how could she ever explain that to Jenny?

  “You weren’t there, were you?” Jenny pressed further.

  “No, but—”

  “See—no one really knows.”

  “Ruth remembers.”

  “Ruth has moved away. Her folks are way off in the city now. And maybe she didn’t even remember it right before. Folks say you can think strange things when you’ve been in an accident.”

  “Well, Rett wouldn’t hurt anybody. I’m sure of it.”

  Jenny gave her a knowing look. “Thinking you’re sure don’t count, Virginia. You should know that with your pa in law. You gotta have proof.”

  “And that … that works both ways,” fumed Virginia. “You gotta have proof that he did it, too.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll find it. Mr. Crell is still workin’ on it. He says he won’t stop until that dangerous loony is locked away.”

  The words brought a pang of fear to Virginia’s heart. “

  That’s a pretty mean thing for you to be saying,” she threw at Jenny. “He did save your life. I would think that you’d be grateful.”

  Jenny shrugged carelessly. “Maybe they are right. Maybe he dumped us in to begin with.”

  Virginia gave her a withering look and turned toward home. She hoped Jenny would not be foolish enough to follow. And maybe it wasn’t a very good idea for Jenny to come to Youth Group.

  “Where’s Jenny?” Clara asked as Virginia tossed her books on the stand by the door and settled at the table.

  Virginia’s thoughts still tumbled one over the other, and her face still felt hot with the anger that filled her.

  “I don’t think she’s coming today,” she answered, keeping her voice as even as she could.

  She felt Clara’s gaze upon her, but she refused to turn to meet it.

  “Why?” asked Francine, her mouth full of cookies. “Did she have chores?”

  Jenny never had chores. At least not a regular schedule of them. Virginia often wondered who took care of a
ll the little tasks around the house. Perhaps they simply did not get done.

  “Did you have a fight?” asked Danny candidly, staring at her face.

  Virginia wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but she bit back the remark. She had promised Clara that she would work on trying to be more considerate of others.

  “Danny, Mr. Adamson says that there is a blue jay in his yard with an injured wing,” Clara said. “He thought you might like to come over and have a look.”

  Danny pushed the last of his cookie into his mouth and reached for his milk glass, nodding as he did so.

  Danny was barely out the door when there was a light rap. Jenny entered. She cast one glance toward Virginia, giving a tentative smile of reconciliation, then nodded to Clara.

  “Mama had to go uptown, but she said she would be back in plenty of time to work on your hand,” Clara said as she put another glass of milk on the table.

  Jenny slipped into the seat.

  “There’s going to be a skating party on Friday,” Clara said. Virginia guessed that her sister was fishing for some topic to lower the tension in the room.

  “She doesn’t have skates,” Virginia said flatly. “Oh!”

  Even Clara seemed to be at loss for something more to say.

  “I might go to the Valentine’s party later,” said Jenny in what Virginia judged to be an attempt at politeness.

  “Well, that will be nice.” Clara smiled and reached out a hand to smooth Francine’s hair. It didn’t seem to want to go back into place, so Clara stepped closer and removed the clip, stroking the hair in place, then repinning it.

  “That’s rather a while to wait. Too bad you couldn’t go skating. Skating parties are always so much fun.”

  Francine giggled. “It was at a skating party that Troy first kissed Clara,” she informed those around the table.

  Clara flushed. “How do you know that?” Her hands fluffed the hair she had just smoothed.

  “I heard you tell Josie Biers.”