The Tender Years Read online

  The party began with a round of games. Virginia was glad to be moving about and guessed that Jenny would be even more so. In spite of chattering teeth, Jenny did appear to be having fun, even though her announced goal of capturing Jamison’s attention did not appear to be meeting with success.

  When refreshment time arrived, Clara handed out “broken hearts” that had to be “mended” by finding the partner with the other half. The two would then share the evening’s hot apple cider and heart-shaped ginger cookies. Virginia felt her pulse race. Did the parents know that Clara was about to match up the young people?

  But yes, she supposed they did. It was all in good, clean fun, in a totally supervised and lighthearted atmosphere. Still, it was rather unnerving to think that one would have to sit with a boy while enjoying the food of the evening.

  She looked about for Jenny. Would this be the girl’s chance? If Jenny’s half of the broken heart were to match up with Jamison’s, she would be ecstatic.

  There was a good deal of milling about the room as young people, nervously and excitedly, found the other half of the heart they held and paired off for their steaming cups of hot cider. Virginia noticed several blushing faces and a few upset looks as one or another girl watched the fellow she had her eyes on teamed up with another. A few of the boys looked equally disturbed. Virginia saw Rodney, red-faced and obviously nervous, lead a young Ida Cross to one of the side benches, a steaming cup in each hand.

  Several other couples began to find their places. Much too interested in what was going on about her, Virginia had not moved from where she had stood when the hearts had been passed out.

  She caught Jenny’s eye. As yet Jenny had not found her partner, either, but she was making her way toward Jamison, broken heart extended. Just as she neared her hoped-for escort, a tall, thin, somewhat awkward-looking fellow, good-naturedly known as String Bean, stepped forward, grinning. He shoved the half of his heart against Jenny’s, and to his seeming delight and Jenny’s dismay, the two halves fit neatly together. Virginia turned away. She could not bear to see Jenny’s face.

  She looked down at her own heart. She still had made no effort to find her own partner. Most everyone else had already been matched up. She hated looking for a partner. Hated it. It was most embarrassing. Why did Clara have to go and set everyone up in pairs anyway?

  She was about to move away when a voice right before her said, “Hey, it looks like we have a fit.”

  Virginia, startled, looked up directly into the eyes of Jamison Curtis.

  CHAPTER 14

  She did not dare to look at Jenny. She had chosen her pretty party dress especially to impress Jamison, had tried furtively to catch his eyes all evening, had been led off by the less-than-desired String Bean, and now … now she, Virginia, was matched up with the very fellow that Jenny had set her cap for. The girl would be furious.

  Virginia swallowed. She felt her face flush, her palms go suddenly sticky. There was no denying it. The two pieces of the Valentine heart matched neatly together.

  “Shall we get some cider?” Jamison was asking.

  Virginia nodded dumbly and shuffled behind him to the table where Clara dished out the steaming cups. Clara gave her a sisterly smile, but Virginia did not even respond.

  “Cookies?”

  Virginia nodded mutely.

  “Two—or three?”

  “One. One will do.” Virginia was sure she would do well to get one choked down. Jamison took three.

  “Where would you like to sit?” he inquired.

  Virginia did look around then. The thought came to her that if they were to join Jenny and her partner, perhaps Jenny would be able to get Jamison’s attention after all.

  But that hardly seemed fair. Not to poor String Bean. And besides, it might mean that she herself would be stuck with him. She had nothing against the young man, in fact thought him a fun member of the Youth Group, but she did not wish to be paired with anyone. She was almost relieved to see that there was no room beside Jenny. Other couples had joined the pair on the bench, and Jenny was totally surrounded. They all were determined to make the new girl feel welcome, even in her unusual outfit.

  Virginia let her eyes drift up to Jamison’s face. She had never noticed how tall he was. He was a good eight inches taller than she was. But then she had never stood that close to him before.

  “I—” she began but never did finish.

  “There’s room over there by Clara and Troy,” he said, pointing the way with the cup he held in his hand.

  Virginia had no desire to join her big sister and her beau, but there didn’t seem to be a place anywhere else. She followed meekly.

  Clara moved over and tucked in her flowing skirt, patting the spot beside her. Immediately the three were engaged in easy conversation, and Virginia found herself relaxing in spite of herself. Maybe it wasn’t such bad luck to end up here with Clara after all.

  By the time Virginia was included in the little chat, she felt quite free to answer the question directed her way by Troy. Yes, school was going fine. She liked the new teacher. Jamison responded that some kids said Mrs. Murray was strict, but he didn’t mind strict teachers. Not as long as they were also fair. Then you knew exactly what was expected, he explained.

  Virginia nodded. She didn’t suppose Jamison did mind strict teachers. He had never been in trouble at school as far as she knew. She’d had a few little run-ins with the new teacher, but nothing that had needed to be reported to her parents. Virginia was relieved about that. Perhaps Mrs. Murray was fair. She had never thought of it before.

  Very quickly the refreshment time was over, and Troy stood to lead the youth in the evening devotion. Again Virginia wished she could be seated by Jenny. She hoped her friend would not be uncomfortable as Troy talked about what the Bible had to say concerning the human heart.

  He had several hearts to display to the group. A black one represented the sinner’s condition, a white-washed one showed human attempt to make things right with a holy God. It was rather messy, with the white paint still letting the black show through in blots and spots and ugly splotches. A broken one needed obvious mending. A red one showed the pain and suffering of a Christ who was willing to die in order to obtain forgiveness for the sinful human race. Then Troy held up a pure white one.

  “‘Create in me a clean heart,’ King David prayed. And that is the only way that we will ever have a clean one,” said Troy. “Only God can take care of the sins of man. Only He can forgive and give to us a clean, pure heart. But we must ask Him to. Just like King David. God will only come into our life and clean up our sinful hearts upon our invitation. We must pray for His forgiveness.”

  It was not a new lesson for Virginia. She had heard it many times over the years. Both at home and at her little church. But this was the first that she had listened to the familiar words and not squirmed a bit. She was glad that she was no longer plagued by guilt. She had done what Troy was talking about. Had finally done that. She had prayed, and God had forgiven.

  She gave Clara just a hint of a smile.

  But what about Jenny? Was Jenny squirming? Or was Jenny just shivering, ready to freeze to death in the ridiculously inappropriate summer-weather dress?

  “Did you get lucky?” Jenny wanted to know, her voice an angry hiss. “Or did big sister rig the valentines?”

  Virginia frowned.

  They were hurrying into their wraps, preparing for the walk home in the cold. Already most of the crowd had left.

  Virginia had offered to help Clara with the cleanup. Jenny also had pitched in. Virginia thought that it might have had something to do with the fact that Jamison was helping, too.

  “Well?” Jenny demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jenny retorted. “Don’t be so innocent, Virginia. You got Jamison. I got String Bean.”

  “Clara did not rig anything,” Virginia declared hotly. “She’d never do that. In case you didn’t notice, sh
e had two other girls pass out the hearts.”

  Jenny’s expression acknowledged that she had to concede the point.

  “Well, you didn’t seem to mind one bit,” she accused instead.

  “I thought you looked like you were having a good time, too,” Virginia responded.

  It was true. Each time she had glanced toward Jenny, the girl was laughing. Sometimes a bit too hilariously. Maybe it was keeping her teeth from chattering.

  Jenny just tossed her head. “Sort of,” she admitted. “He is kinda fun.”

  They were just heading out the door when Jamison appeared. “See you at church Sunday, Virginia,” he called with a wave. Virginia pulled the door tightly behind her. Oh, dear. What was Jenny going to say about that?

  It was a quiet walk home. Each step they took crunched the snow beneath their feet. Virginia hunched into her wraps, her body shivering anyway. How does Jenny stand it? she wondered to herself, but she dared not ask. She hoped with all her heart that Jenny would not be sick. She wondered if she should speak with her mother about it when she got home.

  As they neared the corner and the parting of their ways, Virginia felt that she must speak. Jenny still seemed upset with her. That was no way to end the evening.

  “I hope you enjoyed the party.” She tried to put lightness in her voice.

  “I did.” Jenny could hardly get the simple answer out, she was shaking so badly.

  “I hope you’ll come next time.”

  “I will.”

  They were at their corner.

  Virginia turned and spoke once more. “Your dress was really pretty, Jenny. Everyone noticed it.”

  Jenny said nothing, but the corner streetlight picked up the hopeful glint in her eyes.

  Virginia watched Jenny hurry away and then turned her own steps homeward.

  She had only taken a few steps when she heard Jenny call her name. She wheeled. “Virginia,” Jenny called again. “I think I’ll go to church with you on Sunday.”

  For a moment Virginia struggled to fully comprehend the brief message, then grinned, hardly able to contain an expression of triumph. This was what she had been praying for. What they had all been praying for. Her mother would be so excited.

  Jenny was hurrying off before Virginia could even respond. She turned toward home, her thoughts chasing each other. Jenny was going to go to church. Was it because of the warm welcome given by the young people of the church? Maybe it was because of Troy’s message about hearts.

  But perhaps … perhaps it was Jamison’s comment as they had left the church.

  “See you at church on Sunday, Virginia.”

  The next day, Saturday, cleaning rag in hand, Virginia answered a knock on the door. Jenny was standing there. At least she was wearing her warm winter coat.

  “Are you all right?” Virginia’s question was out even before Jenny was able to move into the warmth of the kitchen.

  Jenny frowned. “’Course I’m all right. What do you mean?”

  “I was worried. Worried that you might catch pneumonia—or something.”

  Jenny still frowned.

  “It was so cold last night I was afraid …”

  At Jenny’s scowl Virginia’s words faded away. She would not again make reference to Jenny’s poor choice of clothing.

  “Jenny,” said Virginia’s mother, entering the kitchen with a duster in her hand. “I didn’t expect to see you today. It’s so cold out there.” She turned to Virginia. “Fix Jenny some hot cider,” she instructed. “Take the chill from her bones.”

  She laid aside her duster and wiped her hands on her apron. “How’s that hand doing?” she asked as she approached the young girl.

  “Good.”

  “I think it is. I think it gets just a little bit better each week.”

  She stopped before Jenny, who obediently thrust out the injured arm. Virginia’s mother took the hand in her own two hands and gently began to massage it.

  “My … you are chilly. Your fingers are almost blue. I didn’t think you’d brave the cold for your treatment today. It could have waited. Are you continuing with the exercises?”

  Jenny nodded, then said, “I didn’t really come for the—the treatment. I came to find out about church.”

  Virginia saw her mother’s eyebrows raise. She smiled softly, continuing to massage the still-stiff fingers.

  “The Bible lesson starts at ten o’clock. Then we have the morning sermon. I think you’ll like Pastor Doyle. He has the most interesting sermons. Even the children listen.”

  Then there was silence. Virginia wondered if her mother might feel she had to fill the silence with more words. But she did not. Just kept right on gently massaging the arm, the hand, the fingers.

  Jenny finally spoke. “What—how do—what do the girls wear?”

  “Well, unless the weather changes drastically overnight, I would suggest the warmest thing you own,” Virginia’s mother said lightly. “It’s cold out there. The poor old heater is not able to keep up with weather this cold. I expect folks will wear their coats right through the sermon tomorrow.”

  “Do—will school clothes do—or do people dress fancy?”

  Virginia noted that it was rather strange Jenny was addressing the personal question to her mother and not to her. Over the weeks that Jenny had been coming to the Simpson home for medical treatment, she seemed to have become quite comfortable with her mother. The jealousy that Virginia once felt had now been replaced with honest concern for her friend. She was glad Jenny could talk to her mother. Especially when she did not have a mother of her own.

  The cider began to steam, and Virginia went to get a heavy mug from the cupboard.

  “School clothes are just fine,” her mother said. “Many of the girls wear simple dresses to church. We do not make a point of ‘dressing up,’ nor do we study one another to see what is being worn. Nor does God. It’s our hearts He views as we enter the doors to His church. Not our clothing.”

  Virginia set the mug before Jenny. Her mother let go of Jenny’s hand with one final pat. She smiled.

  “There. You need to have two hands to enjoy your cider.”

  She turned to Virginia. “Did you fix enough that we can join Jenny?”

  Virginia nodded. There was plenty in the steaming pot.

  “Good. I could use a break from my cleaning. Why don’t you run and call Clara? She is working on the bedrooms.”

  While Virginia moved to do as bidden, her mother poured three more cups of cider and set a large-mouthed cookie jar on the table.

  “Will you join us for dinner following church?” Virginia heard her mother asking as she and Clara entered the kitchen.

  Jenny nodded.

  “We’d love to have your father, as well.” Mrs. Simpson had offered that invitation on several occasions.

  Jenny shook her head.

  “Even if he isn’t able to go with us to church, he still would be most welcome for dinner.” Virginia’s mother had said that before, as well.

  “He sleeps most of Sunday. The paper keeps him working through most nights. When Sunday comes he sorta just … flops.”

  “Of course. It must be very hard running a paper.”

  Jenny nodded. She didn’t comment that the bottle at her father’s elbow also had some bearing on his deep sleep.

  From the cellar came a sharp squeal. “Danny, you cheated!”

  “Never did” was the quick denial.

  Soon hasty tramping sounded on the boards of the wooden steps and the door was flung open. Francine emerged, her hair in disarray and her hands smudged with dust. She was so used to Jenny being there, she did not even hesitate when she saw her sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Mama. Danny cheated,” she insisted. “We were having a race to see who would finish first, and he—”

  “I never did, either,” shouted a voice from somewhere down below.

  “Did too.”

  Francine seemed unable to decide whom she should address. The
cellar and Danny or the table and her mother.

  “Now, now,” chided their mother.

  Francine turned misty eyes to her mother’s face.

  “Now, let’s start at the beginning. What’s the problem?” the woman asked.

  “Well, I had the fruit jars and shelves to dust….”

  Their mother nodded. She knew the Saturday task that had been assigned to Francine.

  “An’ Danny was cleaning the veg’table bins.”

  Another nod.

  “So, Danny said, ‘Let’s race.’ An’ I said yes. But Danny skipped the ’tata bin. He just went right from the turnips to the carrots. An’ now he will beat me.”

  “Come,” said their mother, taking Francine by the hand and leading her back toward the cellar. Virginia knew that the dispute would be settled. As Mrs. Simpson left, she paused long enough to say, “Why don’t we stop by and pick you up tomorrow, Jenny? About twenty to ten?” Jenny nodded.

  Clara stood, stretched her back, one hand on a hip, and turned to go. “That was a nice break, but if I’m going to be done before dinner, I’d better get back at it.”

  Virginia thought of the cupboards she had been wiping out. She’d have to hurry, too, to get done in time for dinner.

  “Boy, you are lucky,” she said with a sigh, turning her eyes on her friend. “No chores. No one to fight—”

  But she stopped short. There was a strange look in Jenny’s eyes. A look of longing. Of loneliness. As though she missed being part of a large, busy, boisterous family. Virginia bit her tongue.

  Virginia saw her mother’s eyes widen the next morning when she appeared for breakfast. But it was Rodney who spoke. “How come you aren’t ready for church?”