The Tender Years Page 9

  Her mother accepted the cup of tea and turned back to her father. “The Booth boy—George, isn’t it?—got a bad gash on his head. Needed a good deal of stitching. That’s why Luke wanted me. And the other boy—the Crell’s son—he was in the water the longest. We still don’t know if he’ll make it, and if he does, if he’ll be all right mentally.”

  Her mother seemed to remember Virginia again. She turned back to her, and one hand reached up to smooth the tangled hair. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know they are your classmates. This is hard.”

  But Virginia’s mind was whirling. Her heart pounding. “Jenny?” she managed through lips stiff with fear. “What about Jenny?”

  Her parents exchanged quick glances. “What do you mean? How did you know—?”

  Instantly, Virginia knew that she had given away her secret. For one instant her eyes widened in consternation, and then she leaned against her mother’s shoulder and began to sob.

  Her mother let her cry, pressing a comforting hand against the small of her back, using the other to smooth the hair back from her face. When the worst of the emotional storm had passed, her father quietly spoke. “I think you need to sit down and tell us about this.”

  Virginia blew on the hankie her mother offered and sniffed back remaining tears. “We went to the creek after school,” she started slowly, twisting the handkerchief around her fingers.

  “Why?”

  “They knew it was … was flooded, so it would … would raft good.”

  “But it didn’t raft good,” protested her father, irritation edging his voice. “It was extremely dangerous and could have—may have—cost someone’s life.”

  Virginia nearly burst into tears again.

  “How many?” her mother asked her rather sharply.

  “Six,” Virginia replied, mentally picturing the group. “Fred? die, George, and Sam and Ruthie, Jenny and me.”

  “Thank God,” her mother said with deep emotion. “Then we did find all of them. They were so upset that we weren’t sure they were thinking properly. They are all in deep shock.”

  “They just wanted to raft,” defended Virginia.

  Her father let the comment pass. “What happened?” he asked instead.

  “I don’t know. I … I … Jenny and Ruthie were so late, and I … I got mad and came home.”

  Virginia was well aware of the looks that passed between her parents. With a deep sigh, her mother’s arm tightened about her again.

  “So you came home before they took the raft?”

  “They had it already. They got it from under the bridge. Mr. Taggart’s.”

  “So they filched a raft.”

  “They were just borrowing it,” Virginia quickly tried to explain.

  “But they didn’t have permission—did they?”

  “No-o.” The answer came slowly.

  “Go ahead,” prompted her father.

  “Well, they had the raft, and we waited for Jenny and Ruthie to come and when they came—” She hesitated. Did she dare tell her folks that Jenny had also stolen sweets? Did she have to tell? She decided to skip that part. It had little bearing on the accident, and her folks had always told her not to be a tattletale.

  “I … I got mad, so I came home. The rest of them were going to try the raft.”

  “So what happened?” Her papa had turned back to her mama.

  “We aren’t sure. They got into rough water. Something went wrong. Luke thinks they might have hit a submerged rock or caught a tree. The raft must have flipped. They were all thrown into the water. The one boy struck his head sharply—likely on a rock. Like I said, a couple of them managed to hang on to an overhanging limb, but they are still in shock and suffering from exposure to the icy water. The one boy went under. Was swept along. It was Rett who pulled him out. Guess he heard the screams. He had to make three tries before he found the boy, Ruthie said. By then the Crell boy had been under for a long time—maybe too long.”

  Her mother stopped and shook her head. “Luke doesn’t know if he’ll make it.”

  Virginia felt a sickness sweep through her body.

  “What awful news to take to parents.”

  Virginia watched the fingers of her father’s hand pass through his hair. She noticed that he looked as drawn and pale as her mother.

  “The Crells are with him now—hoping and praying that he will wake up.”

  “And all for some stupid lark on the creek. They could have drowned. All of them.” The tension in her father’s voice twisted Virginia’s stomach in knots.

  “It could have been Virginia.” Her mother’s voice was also choked with emotion. Her arm tightened around Virginia again, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “We never know,” said her father, “when we pray for God’s protection on our children to what great lengths He will need to go to fulfil our prayers.”

  Her mother seemed too moved to respond.

  Virginia noticed that the poured tea had been forgotten. It sat, getting cold, while her folks exchanged both verbal and silent messages.

  “Luke is concerned about Rett, as well. He refused any kind of treatment, but he was in that cold water for some time. If it hadn’t been for him …” The rest of the thought was left unspoken.

  Virginia fleetingly wondered what the boys would think of the Crow Man now. He had rescued some of his worst tormenters.

  And then she remembered that she still had not heard about Jenny.

  “Mama, what … what happened to Jenny? Is she—?” She couldn’t finish. The thought was too scary.

  “Jenny is in pretty bad shape. She took a nasty knock into the rocks. She has some cuts and bruises, a broken arm and collarbone, and two or three broken ribs.”

  Virginia felt all the air leave her lungs. “Will she—?”

  “Uncle Luke hopes that she will make it. But it will be slow. It will take a long time for her to heal from her injuries.” Her mother sighed. She hesitated for a moment before going on, her eyes meeting those of her husband, as though seeking his advice on what she was about to say. “She will need your friendship more than ever.”

  “But—” How could she tell her folks that she and Jenny were no longer friends? That Jenny had pushed too far with the stealing from The Sweet Shop? That Jenny would not even wish to see her again? Parents didn’t understand things like that. Virginia closed her mouth tightly. There was nothing she could say.

  “It’s late,” said her father. “You’d best get back to bed. We all need to get some sleep.”

  Virginia wondered if there would be any sleep for her that night. For any of them.

  Her mother pulled her close and kissed her again. More tears had filled her eyes. “You can’t know how I thank God that you are safe. That He watched over you. But even while I rejoice, other parents are in pain. Deep pain. Their children are suffering tonight. Are … hanging between life and death. Do you understand all this, Virginia? Do you have any idea what those parents are going through? Can you even begin to understand how much we love you? Why we try to protect you?”

  Virginia could only nod her head mutely. She was beginning to understand.

  But Jenny did not have a mother to care for her. To hover over her, praying for her safety. Her healing. Thoughts of her own cruel, stupid words returned to haunt her. “You don’t have a mama. You don’t know how lucky—”

  Tears filled Virginia’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against her mother’s hair. “Really sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

  She felt her father’s arm go about her shoulders. He knelt beside her and gathered her close. Her mother, too, was included in the embrace. She could feel the tears on his cheek as he pressed it against her forehead. “I think that we need to pray before you run off to bed,” he said. “We have much to be thankful for. Others have not been so blessed. We need to pray for those families.”

  Virginia
nodded and wiped at her cheeks with her flannel sleeve. Prayer sounded like a good idea.

  CHAPTER 9

  Virginia was never sure if her mother ever discussed her disobedience with her grandmother or not. But when the family came together for Sunday dinner, she was not surprised to have Grandma Marty pat the seat on the swing beside her and invite the girl for a little chat.

  It was not unusual for Grandma to have little visits with her grandchildren, but Virginia had a feeling as she accepted the seat and felt her grandmother’s arm tuck around her that this little talk might be different.

  They swung back and forth in silence for several moments. The rest of the family seemed to have gone off on little missions of their own. The womenfolk were washing up the dinner dishes and putting babies down for afternoon naps, and the men had headed for the back porch to sit in the shade and talk and laugh about things that only men think are funny.

  Even with so many of them scattered across the land, there still was a formidable gathering when the local ones got together for family dinner at the home farm. So Virginia found it peculiar that she and her grandmother were actually all alone on the front porch swing.

  “Heard about yer little friends,” her grandmother said.

  Virginia wished to argue that they were not little friends, but she let it pass. She would never argue with her grandmother.

  “It be a shame the hurts thet they suffered.”

  Virginia nodded her head in agreement.

  “Youth can sometimes be too daring.”

  Virginia admitted with a nod that perhaps that was true. “Yet it seems so important to belong—to be a part of all this—the goings-on. Doesn’t it?”

  Virginia only nodded again.

  “Why, do ya think?”

  Virginia frowned. Was her grandmother really expecting an answer?

  “Why do you feel it’s so important like to be a part of this … group that feels it is so … so necessary to flirt with excitement—danger even?” Grandma Marty continued.

  “I dunno,” replied Virginia.

  “Study on it a minute. See iffen you can come up with an answer.”

  Virginia put her mind to “studying” on it.

  “I guess just ’cause I want them to like me,” she said at length.

  “An’ you think thet works? To give in? Go along with any plan they come up with? Even when it means that someone might get hurt?”

  “Well, when I didn’t do what they wanted, I know that didn’t work.”

  “Were they roiled about it?”

  “You mean mad?”

  “Yes, mad. Were they upset? Nasty?”

  Virginia nodded. Jenny had been nasty all right. “Jenny didn’t even want me for her friend. She picked Ruthie.”

  “And that made you feel bad?”

  Virginia nodded.

  “Left out—like?”

  Virginia nodded again.

  “Not a nice feelin’, bein’ left out,” agreed her grandmother.

  “I remember once whenst I was a girl. My best friend—well, I thought she was my best friend at the time. Turned out she wasn’t my friend much a’tall. But anyway, she was a right smart little thing. Popular, too. All the girls thought they could be somebody by havin’ her as a friend, an’ all the boys thought she was … perky. But she was a little foxy, too. Rather mean-like—snippy, when she put her mind to it.

  “My ma thought that she meant trouble, an’ it turned out Ma was right. Sometimes grown-ups seem to have a nose fer sech things. I hated to admit it at the time—in fact, I didn’t. Jest got right stubborn about the whole thing. Figured my ma didn’t understand about sech things.”

  She stopped for a few minutes, and Virginia waited.

  “Well, one day this here ‘best friend,’ she tells me thet the melons were ripe in the neighbor’s garden. One big one looked especially good. She figured as how we could slip on in and sneak it off and have our own private melon party. I was scared. But I knew I had to do it. That is, iffen I was gonna keep her fer a friend. But iffen I did do it—and got caught—I’d sure git me one awful tanning from my pa. I knew thet, too.”

  “What did you do?” asked Virginia.

  “Well, now. I couldn’t lose my best friend, could I? So I says yes. She made all the plans … how we’d sneak in as soon as it got dark. I had to crawl out of my bedroom winder after I’d been sent to bed. Got a great big sliver in the palm of my hand sliding on over the windersill. I can feel it burn yet—whenever I think about it.”

  She shivered, and Virginia could almost feel the sliver, too.

  “Well, there was one thing we didn’t know. Old man Wilchuck kept his huntin’ dogs in the garden at nighttime. We no sooner lowered ourselves on the other side of the fence than those two ole dogs came a flyin’ at us, bayin’ an’ a barkin’ up a storm. Thought they’d waken the whole neighborhood—those thet claimed the cemetery as home included.”

  Virginia looked up into her grandmother’s face to see if she was serious about her story or just funning. Her grandmother seemed to understand the question in her eyes.

  “This is the truth now,” she added. “Jest as it happened. Well, I turned to my friend—my best friend—and says, ‘Run,’ and she ran, and I was right on her heels runnin’ as fast as my legs could fly. But I hadn’t taken but a few steps when I tripped, and there was those big ole dogs right on my heels. I yelled for my friend, but she jest kept right on a runnin’. Lucky fer me those two ole dogs were more bark than bite. But I thought they were gonna lick the freckles right offen my face. Never have I had sech a complete slobberin’.

  “But thet weren’t the worst of it. When ole man Wilchuck came out to see what was frettin’ his dogs—shotgun in hand, mind ya—he found me there sprawled on the ground, those two ole dogs slopping me up with their drippin’ red tongues. He asked what I was doin’ there. ’Course I didn’t have a good answer, so I said nothin’. But later this here ‘friend,’ she spread the story all around thet I was in the garden to steal melons. Thet I had been boastin’ to her of how I was gonna do it. Thet I said ole Mr. Wilchuck was too dumb to catch anybody. Well, I got the lickin’ of my life, an’ I’m not just talking ’bout the one those ole coon dogs gave me, either. My pa had his own kind, you can be sure of thet.”

  Virginia squirmed.

  “Well, I decided right then and there thet any friend who wants to git ya into trouble isn’t really a friend at all. An’ yer a heap better off without ’em. But I learned somethin’ else, too. Though I haven’t ever admitted it to a soul—until now. My ma was right all along. Thet girl was trouble.”

  She stopped talking and seemed to be listening to the creak of the swing.

  “Peaceful out here. I love it.” She looked down at Virginia and smiled. Her arm tightened about the young girl’s shoulder. “Especially when I have sech good company.”

  Virginia managed a grin. She loved the time spent with her grandmother. But there was a funny little tightness in her stomach that did not want to go away.

  Virginia had thought her thirteenth birthday had been the most important birthday she would ever have, so it was surprising to her when her excitement grew as her fourteenth birthday neared. Fourteen seemed so much more grown-up than thirteen.

  But even as the excitement grew, so did the sadness within her. Her friends, her very best friends, were suffering the effects of the rafting incident the Friday before.

  Virginia had not admitted it to anyone—it was a hard thing to talk about—but she had not been sleeping well at all. She kept thinking back to the day at the creek. It hadn’t been her idea, but she had gone along with it. What if she had said no? Would they have gone anyway? Was there any way that she could have talked them out of it? Should she have informed an adult? But she wasn’t to be a tattletale. Still—that was no excuse. Her folks had always told her that if someone’s life was endangered, it was all right to tell. No, more than all right. It was one’s duty.

  But she hadn’t
told. Had not tried to talk them out of it. Yet she knew that the creek was dangerous. Had heard her father say so with concern in his voice. She should have tried to warn them. It would have cost her Jenny’s friendship, of that she was sure, but she should have tried to warn them, or stop them in some way.

  And she had nearly pushed Freddie away. Why? He had been nothing but nice to her, and yet she had suddenly felt miffed with him. Not even wanting him to stand close to her. Was she really that fickle in her friendship? It bothered her. Bothered far more than she would have ever imagined. Now he lay, still and unaware, between life and death. It kept her awake at night trying to sort it through. She felt drained and anxious.

  And now her fourteenth birthday was approaching—such a special birthday, and she wouldn’t even be able to enjoy it. Life was so totally unfair.

  “How would you like to celebrate your birthday?” her mother asked at the evening supper table.

  Virginia could tell by the tone of her voice that she was making an effort to be especially cheerful.

  Virginia swallowed hard. Their mother usually did not let them choose how they would celebrate. The celebrating was always done just as it had been done for the many birthdays before. With family. And perhaps a few friends.

  Virginia did not have time to reply before Francine squealed. “I know. Have a great big party.”

  Virginia felt like giving Francine a nasty look. Party? At such a time? But before she could even raise her head, Danny proposed another idea. “Let’s go to Grandpa and Grandma’s.”

  Danny never could get enough of the farm. Had Virginia not been feeling so down, she might have heartily agreed. As it was, she only sighed and bit at her lip to keep it from trembling.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” her mother said quickly, her eyes watching her young daughter fight for control.

  In the end, they did very little. A family supper with Virginia’s favorite meal of fried chicken was served around the family table. Grandma and Grandpa came. That made it special. They did have cake—with fourteen candles—and Virginia did get a pleasing round of presents from family members. But still—in spite of everyone’s effort—the event seemed hollow. Almost a mockery.