The Tender Years Read online

  Virginia felt her cheeks flush. Anger pushed through her again. Anger and something more. Was it jealousy? Jealousy? She had never even considered it before. Had not realized just how it felt. But yes. Maybe. Maybe that’s what it was called. Jealousy.

  She only knew that she did not want Jenny fussing over Jamison in such a way. It made her uncomfortable. And not for the sake of the Youth Group. She didn’t want Jamison smiling at Jenny. Helping her from the snow. Bringing her hot chocolate. It made her feel angry. A little sick.

  Jealousy? She wasn’t sure what to call the feeling. But she did know one thing for sure. She kind of liked Jamison Curtis.

  CHAPTER 16

  Virginia made the first move toward a reconciliation. Jenny seemed tremendously relieved. They had endured one miserable day of trying to stay angry—of passing each other in the school hallways, heads held high, eyes averted. The next day Virginia made a tentative approach. Jenny did not turn her back.

  Virginia spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said such mean things.”

  Jenny nodded.

  “I would like you to come to church with us on Sunday. Will you?”

  Jenny acted as though she was giving it careful thought.

  “And the Youth Group,” Virginia went on. She knew what she was saying. It meant that she would need to be willing to back away and let Jenny establish the desired relationship with Jamison. Virginia had battled long and hard with her feelings and even now found it difficult to choke out the words.

  Jenny nodded again.

  “Mama wants to know if you will be over today.”

  “Sure,” said Jenny.

  “Good.”

  It was all settled so simply. It was hard to remember just how wide the breach had been.

  Winter seriously began to give way to spring. Jenny’s fifteenth birthday came and went. Activity in the Simpson household increased with Clara’s wedding plans now seeming to include them all. Even Francine was “helping” to fold linens and tea towels for the hope chest that had to be totally furnished by the special day in April.

  Jenny’s exercises and massages were reduced to twice a week. Virginia’s mother thought the girl had progressed quite nicely and would continue to do so if she kept up the special exercises at home. Virginia wondered if Jenny really fulfilled the assignment or just said that she did. She knew that Jenny told little fibs about other things. Jenny didn’t seem to worry too much about the consequences of lying. Only about being caught.

  But she was still coming to Youth Group and also to church. Virginia was quite sure that Jenny had been disappointed regarding Jamison. Since the night of the tobogganing party, Jamison seemed to almost ignore Jenny. In fact, Virginia thought that he rather ignored them both.

  But she had little time to think about Jamison. With her mother and Clara both busy with the trousseau and hope chest items, more of the household duties fell on Virginia.

  “With Clara gone, you will now be my chief help,” her mother had said cheerily and seemed to expect that Virginia would be flattered by the prospect.

  Virginia was not. She had never cared that much for housework and certainly didn’t enjoy kitchen puttering as Clara had always done.

  Sometimes Jenny came over under the guise of being Virginia’s helper. In truth Jenny was mostly in the way. She had never learned to do housework efficiently and properly. Virginia had to give careful directions about everything that was to be done. It was even worse than trying to work with Francine.

  So as she peeled the potatoes for supper, Virginia was not surprised to hear Jenny’s customary tap on the door.

  “Come,” she called without even drying her hands on her apron.

  “My word,” Jenny exclaimed before she even closed the door behind her. “They’re at it again.”

  Virginia’s head came up. What was Jenny talking about now?

  She didn’t have to ask. Jenny went right on. “The Crells are out after Loony Marshall again.”

  Virginia felt her hand tighten on the potato she held. “What are you talking about?”

  “They are. Oh, not the old story. It’s a new one now. Guess they gave up on the other one. Now they say he’s a thief.”

  “A thief?”

  Jenny nodded, her eyes gleaming with the impact of her news.

  “That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Virginia.

  “Ridiculous or not—that’s what they’re saying.”

  “He’d never steal.”

  Jenny looked cocky. “That’s what you think, Virginia.”

  “That’s what I know.”

  Jenny hesitated for a moment as the tension built.

  “Crell has already been to see your pa.”

  “Papa would never even listen to such silly charges,” Vir? ginia declared hotly.

  “Well, some folks are listening. Mrs. Parker says she has never really trusted the man, and Mrs.—”

  “Mrs. Parker. Who listens to Mrs. Parker? You certainly don’t.”

  Jenny seemed to stop to plan her next attack. “Mrs. Parker isn’t the only one to be talking, Virginia. Other folks are beginning to wonder about ole Loony.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

  “That’s what he is.”

  Jenny tipped her head slightly and gave Virginia a smug stare, then moved to lift an apple from the bowl on the cupboard. After taking a crisp-sounding bite, she went on. Virginia could barely sort out Jenny’s words around the apple in her mouth.

  “Several folks in town have had things turn up missing lately. Now that isn’t hearsay. That’s fact. The sheriff has had several reports of stolen property, and he has had an eye out for some time.”

  “How come we’ve never heard about it?”

  Jenny shrugged. “Sheriffs like to keep those things quiet until they get a lead.”

  “A lead?”

  “Yeah. Someone that looks guilty. Things that just don’t fit. That kind of thing.”

  “So he has a lead?”

  Virginia felt a strange queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Surely—surely Rett Marshall had not done anything to be under suspicion.

  “Guess so.” Jenny gave a shrug again. “He wouldn’t let folks talk like that if he didn’t, would he?”

  “You can’t stop folks from talking, you know that,” Virginia responded.

  She looked down at the hand that still held the unpeeled potato. She would be late with supper if she didn’t get busy.

  “Well, the sheriff was in to see my pa. Told him to please hold printing anything until things could be sorted out. ’Course my pa agreed, but folks pretty well know that it’s gotta come out some time.”

  Jenny looked so knowing and self-righteous about it all that Virginia had a hard time biting back a sharp retort. She turned back to her potato peeling, hurrying to get the task done so she could get the kettle on the stove.

  But her thoughts were heavy. Mixed and jumbled all together in one huge whirl that made her head spin and her stomach feel sick. Surely it couldn’t be true. Rett couldn’t steal things. He had never even cared about things. Just animals. Why, his pa had said that all the time he was growing up there wasn’t even any gift that they could get him. He just looked at it briefly, then laid it down and walked away. Why would he start wanting to gather things now? It didn’t make a bit of sense to Virginia.

  At last she turned to Jenny, who had been standing watching her, munching steadily on the apple.

  “What sort of things have been missing?”

  “I dunno. Little things mostly. Crell lost a cowbell. One fella some fishhooks. Another a new wrench.”

  “Maybe they misplaced them,” put in Virginia.

  “Oh, Virginia!”

  “They do. Folks misplace things all the time. Doesn’t mean they’ve been stolen.”

  “Mrs. Parker lost that red pin that she treasured so highly and wore on every dress she owns. Don’t know who would want it. Have to be someone loony. It’s an ugly thi
ng.” Jenny shivered to show her disgust.

  “Why would Rett want a pin? That’s pure silliness!”

  Virginia felt her case had been won.

  “How do you ever know why loony people do what they do?” responded Jenny.

  It was a point well taken and one that even Virginia, with her staunch loyalty, could not dispute.

  She had thought the whole matter of charges against Rett had finally been put behind them. Apparently it had all been dredged up again. Would it never end?

  “Afternoon.”

  Mr. Adamson hung on the pickets of his fence like a limp sheet. But even though his back seemed to bend more with every passing season, his near-toothless smile was still intact. Virginia had no problem bringing her dragging feet to a halt.

  “Afternoon,” she responded, but there was no brightness in the word.

  “You’re lookin’ a mite down in the mouth,” the elderly man observed.

  Virginia nodded. She could not deny it. She was feeling discouraged and sad. Every place she went as she fulfilled her mother’s errands she heard the whispered innuendos, and at times outright charges, against Rett Marshall. He was a thief—but, said the more lenient and forgiving, one could not really hold it against the man. He could not really be held responsible. He hardly knew what he was doing. He just needed help.

  Such statements did nothing to erase Virginia’s heaviness. She was sure that Rett Marshall would never steal—from any? one. But the poor man was not even capable of coming to his own defense. She wondered if he was even aware of the serious charges that were being laid at his door.

  Now she nodded to Mr. Adamson. “I guess I am—a bit,” she acknowledged. “I’ve—I’m worried.”

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “That Marshall fella?”

  She nodded again. “He didn’t do it, Mr. Adamson, I’m sure he didn’t.”

  “I’ve a notion to agree with you,” said the man. Now it was his turn to shake his head. “He’s gonna have a hard time clearing himself, I’m afraid.”

  Virginia brightened some. “Papa says that he won’t have to prove he didn’t do it. They will have to prove—beyond reasonable doubt—that he did.”

  “They don’t have no proof?”

  “’Course they don’t. And they never will, either, unless …”

  “Unless?”

  “Unless someone mean goes and trumps up some false charges.”

  “You think someone would do that?”

  Virginia stirred restlessly. “I don’t know. They’ve had it in for Rett, and that’s for sure. They have wanted him put away for a long time.”

  “Well—expect the sheriff will get it all cleared up real soon.” He sounded so cheery that Virginia wanted to believe him.

  “Those hothouse roses are coming along just fine. They should be ready for Clara’s wedding, no problem,” he went on.

  Virginia managed a smile. “I’ll tell her,” she promised. “She’ll be pleased.”

  Clara’s wedding was only a week away. Virginia had been excited about it. She was to be the bridesmaid. She was thrilled when her older sister had asked her to share her wedding in the honored position. Her mama had sewn her the most lovely dress in a soft, almost weightless silk material. It floated about her when she moved, making her feel that she was next to walking on air. Jenny had oohed and aahed over the dress, telling Virginia over and over just how lucky she was. Virginia had come to believe her.

  And now … now this awful story that rumbled and tumbled over the whole town, seeming to smother all the joy out of Clara’s approaching wedding day. It didn’t seem fair. Not to Rett. Not to Clara. And not to Virginia.

  Clara’s April wedding day dawned bright, quickly spilling bright sunshine over the entire area. Virginia’s pulse quickened as she arose from her bed and went to her window. It was earlier than she normally awoke, but excitement coursing through her would not allow her further sleep.

  Already she could hear voices from the kitchen. Other members of the family were up before her.

  Quickly she slipped out of her nightie and dressed in clothes she had laid out the night before. There would be many small tasks to accomplish before she could turn to the lovely pink dress that hung from the cloth-covered hook in her wardrobe.

  Her mother turned her head as she entered the kitchen. “Virginia. I was going to let you sleep for another half hour.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

  Clara gave a little laugh, the closest to a girlish giggle Virginia had ever heard from her practical sister. She gave Clara a quick glance to assure herself that she was still the same person. She was. A flushed, bright-eyed Clara, looking more nervous than Virginia had ever seen her.

  “You’re excited,” said Clara. “I could just … fly away.”

  Virginia agreed that Clara just might do that.

  Her father, passing by Clara’s chair, stopped and reached out his hand.

  “Relax, Dumplin’,” he said good-naturedly with fatherly assurance. “I’ve never known a bride to actually leave the ground.”

  Clara laughed again. The same high, excited laugh. “Well, I might well be the first,” she cautioned.

  Rodney came into the room, still fighting the hair that wanted to flop forward into his face. “What’s all the ruckus?” he asked sleepily. “Sounds like a pen of clacking chickens out here.”

  That brought another titter from Clara.

  Rodney stared, then yawned. “So it was you,” he said around his gaping mouth. “I thought Jenny had already arrived.”

  Warm laughter filled the kitchen, signaling the close family bond. Rodney poured himself a cup of coffee and joined the others at the table.

  “Speaking of Jenny, I saw her in town yesterday. She said the sheriff has a man watching Rett’s every move.”

  The words ushered in a dark cloud over the day. Virginia looked at her father for some kind of rebuttal. An expression of his outrage over such preposterous monitoring. But her father was smiling. She even heard a slight chuckle.

  “I sure hope the man is in good shape,” he said, a smile twitching his mouth. “He’ll have to be if he’s to keep up with Rett.”

  The words eased the tension of the room as family members began to picture the scene. Rett moved ceaselessly, sometimes covering many miles before returning home at night. Up hill, down hill, through swamps, over bogs, pushing his way through dense undergrowth or fighting his way across rocky outcroppings. It would be rather comical to watch another man try to keep up. The smiles turned to chuckles, the chuckles to outright laughter.

  But in spite of their merriment, Virginia still felt uneasy. Rodney’s few simple words had managed to shadow her day. She would not be able to fully enjoy the excitement of being Clara’s bridesmaid or the swish of the soft material against her ankles. In spite of her aim to concentrate on the joys of the event at hand, her mind would keep going back to Rett. Rett and the man who tailed him, stalking, watching, hounding him as he waited for him to make some kind of self-condemning mistake.

  The family and friends who gathered to witness the wed? ding filled the little church with their warmth and love. Virginia watched her sister’s face during the service, and as the vows were said, she thought she had never seen someone look so beautiful.

  It’s not just the dress, Virginia thought, though it was lovely, too. She had watched Clara and her mother as they carefully stitched and embroidered the exquisite gown. It’s … it’s like Clara’s face shines from inside, she decided. I wonder if I’ll ever feel like that about someone, she mused as she looked from Clara to Troy.

  CHAPTER 17

  Life had settled back into more normal routines during the week following the wedding. One evening there came a sharp rap on the kitchen door. Before Virginia’s father could rise from his chair to answer it, Aaron, Luke’s son, had pushed it open and stuck his head in.

  “Aaron,” invited her mother. “Come in. We were just fin? ishing supper. Coul
d I get you—”

  A look at the young man’s face stopped the flow of words. “Something’s wrong,” she finished quietly.

  “It’s Grandpa. Pa hopes it’s not serious, but he wanted you to know.”

  “What’s happened? Where is he?” Virginia’s father asked the questions that were on everyone’s mind. A somber silence had instantly stilled the family chatter from around the table.

  “Uncle Clare brought him in.”

  “Where’s Mama?” asked Virginia’s mother, pushing back from the table. Her face was white.

  “She’s with him.”

  “Do they know—?”

  “Pa thinks it’s a stroke.”

  Aaron had not come into the room or closed the door. He just stood there, one hand on the doorknob, as if he was about to bolt as soon as he had delivered the message.

  Virginia’s mother had fully risen now. Virginia could tell that it was the daughter rather than the nurse as her mother fought to control her emotions and her fear.

  “Virginia, you do the cleaning up,” she instructed through trembling lips. “See that Francine reviews her spelling words before she goes to bed. I may not be home tonight. You might have to look after things in the morning, too. Rodney, you help with the school lunches. Danny—” She stopped with visible effort. “You all know your chores, there’s no need for me to go on so.” Quickly she lifted her eyes to her husband as though in quiet apology. “Your father will be here.”

  He understood her anxiety and reached out a hand. She seemed about to burst into tears as she went to him. “I’ll go with you,” he said as he pulled her close. “Just … just hold steady.” He was patting her shoulder, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We’ll go—right away—as quickly as we can. But first … first let’s have a short word of prayer together.”

  The prayer was short. Just a brief but emotional plea for God to be with their grandfather—to be with him and sustain him. To be with Uncle Luke and give him special wisdom. To be with each family member, especially Grandma—in Jesus’ name.