Like Gold Refined (15 page)

She found it difficult to keep her eyes from wandering to Jenny. The woman’s face was stoic, but Virginia wondered if she saw a shadow of pain there. Of uncertainty. But also of anger.

They had not talked. Jenny made a point of never making eye contact. Virginia had longed to approach her, but her father had cautioned that it might not be appropriate right now. There would be time to try for reconciliation after the conclusion of the trial, he said. Virginia knew in her heart that she wanted reconciliation. She did not want to hurt Jenny. But they could not sit by and let her destroy Mindy.

They phoned home often to check on the family and pass on any updates. Slate was keeping up with the chores and the horse training. Belinda reported that the children were fine and healthy. Mindy, out of school for the summer, was a big help with the little ones. Virginia longed to be home with them.

And then it was over. The lawyers presented their final arguments, the judge, after taking considerable time, brought back his verdict. Mindy was to remain with them.

They laughed and cried and hugged one another. It seemed too good to be true.

Then Virginia thought of Jenny. She must speak to her. But when Virginia rose to cross the courtroom, she discovered that Jenny had already gone.

They tried to get in touch with Jenny before leaving the city, but she refused. After much prayer and discussion, Jonathan arranged a meeting with Jenny’s lawyer. Virginia felt anxious and nervous, as if they were entering the lion’s den, as they were ushered into a room of rich wood panels and thick carpets.

A receptionist showed them into the inner office. “Mr. Tomms is expecting you.” Her voice was coolly professional.

Jonathan did not waste time after the rather perfunctory greetings.

“We have taken no pleasure in this whole affair,” he began, “but we had no choice but to fight for our daughter. To have sent her away from our home would have been devastating—to her even more than to us. When she came to us she was deeply withdrawn. She would not speak for many months and was even frightened of being touched or held.

“But we do feel sympathy for her birth mother. We would … we would be open to letting her spend time with the child. If she wishes to come to our home, she would be welcome. Or if she would consider moving back to the area—to our town—we’d arrange for regular visits. So that Mindy might get to know her. Slowly. Over time, I’m sure a relationship could develop. Mindy already prays for her mother daily.”

The lawyer listened silently, tapping the end of a pencil on his desk. When Jonathan stopped, the man shifted his position, sat forward in his high-backed leather chair and looked from one to the other.

“My client wanted her child,” he said firmly, “not some convenient arrangement of your own making.”

“I quite understand,” said Jonathan, and Virginia marveled at his control. “The court has ruled it best for Mindy to be left where she is. We fully agree. But in recognition of the mother’s feelings, we are willing to cooperate so that a relationship can be established.”

“The mother does not wish your charity. She wants her child.”

Jonathan stood to his feet. “Will you be so kind as to pass our proposal on to the mother … and let her decide?” His voice sounded strained, and Virginia knew he was fighting to remain civil.

“I may,” said the man, leaning back in his chair. “And I may not.”

Jonathan gave one nod and touched Virginia’s arm. They turned together and left the office.

“Pompous ignoramus,” Jonathan muttered as they walked from the room, past the receptionist, and down the hall. If the situation had not been so serious, Virginia would have laughed at Jonathan’s unusual terminology. But she could not fault him for his frustration.

When they reached the outside, Virginia drew in a deep breath. She could finally feel it was over. They were going home. And Mindy was safe. Safe. She would not face the trauma of being torn from her family.

There had been a price, of course—besides the time and costs, there were sleepless nights, the unavoidable tensions in their home, the continual worry. But Jonathan had been right. It had been worth it all. They had not lost the horses. Nor the farm. They were in debt, but they were still young. Gradually they would be able to regroup, rebuild their operation. No sacrifice was too great to save their precious daughter.

Virginia could hardly wait to get home and hold her close.

Virginia busied herself with the garden and canning, and she carefully watched every expenditure for the household. Each penny she could save was one more toward paying off their debt. But she tried not to fret about money. The family was intact. She still loved Jonathan and he still loved her. Their family seemed none the worse for wear after the previous months of uncertainty and fear. God had answered their prayers in a wonderful way. They had made it. Mindy was in the family circle where she belonged.

Virginia now awoke each morning after a good night’s rest, eager to take on the tasks of the day. The children, totally ignorant of what had just transpired, seemed even dearer, more special, in Virginia’s eyes. As she looked at Mindy, she under? stood more acutely what it would mean to lose one of her children.

Mindy spent the last days of summer helping Virginia with chores and riding her beloved Buttercup. And before they had time to really think about it, it was time for a new school term. And Martha could not have been happier. At long last she was to accompany her big sister to school. Olivia begged to go, too, and found it difficult to understand why she should be denied.

“Think of James.” Virginia resorted to the last argument she could muster. “He would be so lonely without you.”

Olivia considered that for a brief moment, then, “I think he’s too little to be away from his mama,” she said seriously. “You’ll have to come to school with him.” Now she had them all on their way to school.

“Olivia,” said Martha, her newly acquired status making her sound even more big-sisterly, “you need to be six—or almost six like I am,” she added importantly, “before you can go to school. You’re not six yet.”

Olivia, quite aware of how old she was because she had been counting fingers since she was two, responded, “I could be six if I put all of these and one from this hand.” She held both hands out in front of her.

Martha’s tone was frustrated. “Mama—s’plain to Olivia it doesn’t matter how many fingers you put up. You are still just as many old.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“All right, girls—enough,” Virginia said, shaking her head. “Come here, Olivia,” she coaxed. “You are the only helper I have now. Can you put these sandwiches into the lunch pails?”

Olivia ran to help pack lunches, feeling grown-up for the time at least.

Virginia stood on the porch, clothes basket in hand, and looked out over the barn, the corral, and the distant fields.
This is the most glorious autumn I have ever seen
, she mused. Never had the colors seemed so brilliant, the trees so stately in their amber-and-gold dress. Overnight a soft rain had fallen—more of a mist than actual drops, and everything looked fresh-washed and ready to be presented to the most critical of audiences. It was all Virginia could do to continue to the clothesline and the task at hand.

Perhaps it’s just that I am so happy
, her thoughts continued.
We are at peace again. The children are doing well in school. Olivia and James have finally adjusted to being left behind each morning. Jonathan and Slate are happy to be working together raising horses—our lives seem to be moving forward once again
.

After dinner Jonathan walked in from the mailbox at the end of the lane, an unfamiliar envelope in his hand.

“What is it?” Virginia inquired.

“I’ve no idea.” Jonathan turned the envelope over in his hands.

“Well, open it,” Virginia teased. “That’s one good way to find out.”

He slit open the envelope with a nearby paring knife.

“Now it will smell like onions,” Virginia commented, watching his face.

His body went utterly still, face pale. Virginia felt a tremor go through her body.

“What is it?” She waited motionless for his reply.

“It’s from that lawyer. They have decided to appeal the court’s decision. We are to appear on December the six? teenth.”

Virginia felt her legs go weak. Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Jonathan,” she cried. “I don’t think I can stand anymore. Not again. I … I can’t. … ”

Jonathan said nothing, just reached for her—but she pushed him away and blindly ran upstairs to the bedroom. She had no strength for anything but tears.

CHAPTER 15

T
he preliminary hearing, now familiar, set the new trial date. Virginia felt it was like a repeated nightmare. Jenny was there, looking more worn and ill than before. Virginia could tell that the proceedings were taking their toll on her, as well. She wondered if the lawyer had ever told Jenny of their offer. She wished she could speak with her, but Jenny did not even look their way.

They returned home, mentally and physically exhausted, and poorer by another large sum of money. And they had yet to face the trial, several months down the road.

Virginia knew they had to talk about their finances. The next court case would totally ruin them financially. They already had borrowed all the bank would allow.

“If we lose the stock we have nothing left,” Jonathan had explained. “Selling off the stock at whatever we can get gives us nothing for the future. But if we take out a loan, at least we have the means of paying it back. It might be slow—but we’ll come out of it.”

Virginia had agreed that it made sense. But now there was no more money from the bank available to them. They would have to sell the stock—and then what?

Virginia put the children to bed and was finishing up the last of the ironing as Jonathan sat at the kitchen table with his financial ledger. She could tell by the furrow on his brow that the columns of figures were not producing good news. She lifted her head as he started to speak.

“Perhaps Slate would use his inheritance money for a down payment to buy the place.”

Virginia wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or musing out loud. At first she said nothing. Her throat felt tight. When she found her voice, it was low and husky with emotion. “Then … what will we do?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’d let me work for him. It really takes two—”

“And where would we live?” Virginia interrupted. Her iron had stopped moving and was in danger of leaving a scorched patch on the skirt of the small dress. Just in time, she jerked the iron off the cloth and set it back on its protector plate. Jonathan said, “Maybe we could find a place in town.”

They would lose all they had worked for. Would Jonathan be able to support a family of six on the wage Slate would be able to pay a hired hand?

Virginia shook her head, the tears pushing behind her eyelids. She crossed to the table and lowered herself to a chair. “Jonathan—are you sure …?” she began.

He reached over and took her hand, his eyes deeply troubled. She wondered if they, too, were wet with tears reflecting the light of the lamp—but she could not be sure.

“Do we desert her now, Virginia? Is that what you are thinking?”

“No. No, of course not. We can’t. But can we just keep going indefinitely? I think we should try again to get in touch with Jenny. Make some compromise. Make sure she heard our offer of … of sharing Mindy. The lawyer might not have even told her—”

“She was informed,” Jonathan said. “I had our lawyer draft a letter to her so she’d be sure to get it. She sent an answer. I didn’t tell you at the time because I didn’t want to add to your burden. She refuses to ‘make any deals,’ she called it. She wants Mindy outright.”

A stir at the doorway made them both lift their heads. Mindy stood there, her nightie white in the darkness of the framed door, her hair disheveled, her eyes wide with confusion. “Does Mama Jenny want me?”

Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted back to Jonathan’s. What had they done? In their own anguish, had their carefully guarded secret reached the child? They had thought her safe in bed, sound asleep—but now she knew the truth.

Jonathan held out his arms, and Mindy came without hesitation. He pulled her onto his knee and smoothed back her tangled hair.

“Yes,” he said honestly. “Your mama Jenny wants you back.”

“To live with her?” Mindy sounded troubled.

“Yes.”

“But she’s sick.”

“I know.”

Mindy was shaking her head, her eyes filled with fear or disbelief. “She didn’t want me before.”

“I know.”

She pulled back in his arms. “I don’t want to leave here.”

Jonathan pulled her closer while Virginia covered trembling lips with her hand.

“We don’t want you to leave, either. We are … are asking the judge to leave you with us.”

Again Mindy leaned back and looked into her father’s face. “Is that why you’ve been going to her city so much?”

He nodded.

“I wondered.” She looked very thoughtful. “Do you have to go again?”

“Yes … we do. But not for a while yet.”

“Mama Jenny is sick,” she repeated.

Again Jonathan nodded.

Virginia wiped at her tears and took a shaky breath. She reached across and took one of Mindy’s hands. “Honey … we are going to do all we can to keep you with us. Promise.”

Mindy left Jonathan’s side and crossed to Virginia. She threw her arms around her neck and they wept together.

Later they mopped tearstained faces and Jonathan held them both, kissing one head after the other. They were a family. They would stay together—whatever it took.

Though Virginia had sat at Mindy’s bedside until she fell asleep again, the next morning the little face looked troubled and peaked. Virginia wondered if the child had lain awake much of the night as she herself had done. It was hard to send her off to school, but Virginia felt that school and a normal routine would be the best distraction.

Virginia watched her go, her heart breaking. Her own day had many tasks that would demand her attention. It would keep her hands busy—if not her thoughts.

Eventually she was watching the clock and the window and the lane. Soon Murphy was running toward the road, his tail wagging, his joyous yips echoing in the stillness of another winter afternoon. Mindy was coming home. Mindy with a little sister’s mittened hand held securely in her own.

The two smallest ones had heard Murphy, as well, and hurried from the living room, where they had been playing. “They’re here,” shouted Olivia. “They’re home. I hear Murphy saying hello.”

“Murph!” shouted James, just behind her.

Olivia had the front door open before the older two arrived. Her small hands clapped as she watched Mindy and Martha cross the porch. Martha was already talking.

James joined Olivia and, watching her closely, began to clap, as well.

“We waited for you,” called Olivia unnecessarily.

The two girls came in together in a whirl of chatter and movement. Martha flung off her hat and kicked off her boots beside the door. As usual, she had not bothered to lace them properly.

Her coat came off next. “Know what? We had another spelling bee and Mindy spelled out.”

Mindy’s head hung. She was usually the winner of the spelling bees. Virginia’s hand automatically went out to her oldest child. “Martha,” she said, a bit more sternly than she had intended. “Pick up your clothes and hang them where they belong. And watch that you don’t drop snow all over the kitchen.”

At Martha’s quick look at her mother, Virginia’s voice softened. “Mindy will get your cookies and milk.” They all trooped back to the kitchen.

Virginia continued with supper preparations, and the children gathered at the table while Mindy laid out their cookies and milk. “One for you, one for you,” Virginia heard her count.

“Mine is broken a little bit,” objected Martha. “I should get two.”

“No. One. Here’s its piece.”

“I want a different one. I don’t want a broken one.”

“Okay. Take mine. I’ll have the broken one.”

They traded. Virginia caught Mindy’s eye and smiled approvingly at her maturity. Mindy smiled back shyly, but Virginia could tell her thoughts were really elsewhere.

The two older girls went upstairs to change. Olivia and James followed along behind. By appearances nothing had changed—but Virginia knew by the look in Mindy’s eyes that nothing was the same.

Jonathan and Virginia were seated at the table having a cup of hot cider before retiring. There seemed so little to say—yet so much that needed saying. But both were quiet with their own heavy thoughts when Mindy again appeared.

Her eyes were dark and solemn. Virginia knew she was deeply troubled. It was to Jonathan that the child went, standing beside him in the circle of his arm.

“Can’t you sleep?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

He took her on his knee and held her close for several minutes, rocking back and forth with her as he had done when she was a frightened little child. Mindy pressed against him, her face almost hidden against his chest.

At last she spoke and Virginia was sure she had not heard the words correctly. “I think … I think I should go to Mama Jenny.”

Virginia’s “What?” escaped her lips as Jonathan pushed Mindy to arm’s length, looking into her face, then pulled her back firmly against him again.

“You what?” gasped Virginia.

“I do. I want to go. For a while. I think … I think she needs me.”

“Honey … you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Jonathan seemed to regain his voice. But it was husky when he spoke. Slow and measured, he said, “I think you need to give this a good deal of careful thought—and prayer.”

“I did. I’ve prayed and prayed. Last night and today. This might be the only way Mama Jenny will learn to love God.”

Virginia saw Jonathan’s arms tighten around the small frame.

“I think we should pray about this together.”

She nodded, her chin trembling slightly. But Virginia saw a look in her eyes that she couldn’t quite identify—a resolve that spoke of perception far beyond her years.

“I … I think I need to go,” Mindy said quietly. Then she said, her voice a mere whisper, “Mama Jenny will think I don’t love her if I don’t go. And maybe she will think that God doesn’t love her, either.”

Virginia felt tears sting her eyes. What could they possibly say?

Jonathan did not forbid Mindy to go or even try to change her mind. But that night when he and Virginia retired, they talked until late into the night.

“We can’t send a child into that kind of situation,” mourned Virginia.

“ We aren’t sending her.” Jonathan’s voice sounded strained.

“Well … we can’t let her go.”

“I promised God.”

“But you didn’t know … ”

“He did.”

Virginia raised herself on one elbow and looked at Jonathan, and she could see his jaw muscle moving in the lamplight. “Jonathan … I don’t think God … ”

But he stopped her again, turning to face her. “Virginia, the night after Jenny told you she was taking Mindy, I spent most of the night praying. I asked God for wisdom. I … I sort of put out a fleece. Like Gideon. I told Him that as long as Mindy wanted to stay with us, I’d fight for her. But if she ever said she wanted to go … then I’d leave it in God’s hands. I can’t back out on that now. I can’t.”

“But, Jonathan, she’s only ten—” Virginia’s words were choked off in a sob.

“Yes … she is. And it worries me just as much as it does you. But God is with her. We can’t let go of that. She won’t be alone. And … maybe she’s right. Maybe this is the only way Jenny will realize that she needs God. Even though I’ve never felt any great sympathy for her … I do want to see her find God.”

Yes
, Virginia’s heart responded,
I do want Jenny to find God
. But she couldn’t keep herself from saying, “Jenny is so ill. Surely—how can she take care of a child?”