The Tender Years (12 page)

But she didn’t say that. Instead she said slowly, “Jenny’s doing fine.”

“Thet’s good news,” said the elderly man. “She got quite banged up, I hear, in thet there accident.”

Virginia nodded.

“You still friends?”

“Of course.”

Virginia’s answer came too abruptly. The elderly man’s eyes darkened slightly.

“How’s the family?” he asked, completely catching Virginia off guard. She swallowed and nodded.

“Fine.”

“Hear your sister’s plannin’ a weddin’.”

Yes, it was true. Clara was finally going to marry her Troy.

“Next April,” Virginia said without emotion. “She’ll make a fine wife. Good cook.”

Virginia nodded. Mr. Adamson should know about the cooking part. Clara was always running over with little plates of this or trays of that.

“Suppose you’ll miss her.”

Virginia had not stopped to think about that. A few short months before, she could not wait for Clara to leave the house. But so much had changed. So much. Clara and her bossiness didn’t seem quite so important now. In fact, maybe she
would
miss her—just a bit. Who would come to her room in the middle of the night if she had another bad dream? Her mother’s room was too far away for her to hear Virginia’s restless stirring. Clara’s room that she shared with Francine was just next door.

She looked up at Mr. Adamson and nodded slowly.

“The dahlias are doin’ good this year. I know you gotta run on home, but if you come back in ’bout twenty minutes I’ll have a bouquet ready for your mama.”

For the first time, Virginia smiled. “She’d like that. She loves dahlias.”

“You run then. Scat.”

Virginia gave him another hesitant smile and then ran. Her mama would be pleased—and the afternoon snack would be waiting to buoy her up for chore time.

The very next Monday Jenny walked home with Virginia. At first they were awkward and strained with each other. They did not talk much. There seemed to be so little to say. When they reached Virginia’s home, an extra snack had been placed on the table.

Virginia’s mother and sister Clara were both busy about the kitchen. Danny and Francine were already eating, and Danny was making short work of his lemonade and spice cake. Virginia assumed he was in a rush to get out to his little menagerie.

Francine, as usual, was slowly sipping and nibbling, talking in between sporadic bites as she told about every little detail of her rather uneventful day.

“And Mrs. Howard said that we should bring a fresh han? kie every day—and take it home again at the end. Clarisa had seven hankies in her desk—seven—and all of them were already used up and—”

“Francine,” scolded Virginia as she and Jenny entered the large, welcoming kitchen. “Don’t talk about such things when you’re eating.”

Francine seemed to consider the comment—and the manner in which it was spoken. “Oh,” she said meekly, her eyes beginning to brim. Virginia wished she had not spoken so sharply. The last thing Jenny needed to see was her little sister in tears. It made Virginia feel even angrier with the young girl.

Her mother intervened. “Hello, Jenny. Come right in. I hope you like spice cake.”

Jenny nodded, looking around at the scene.

“Excuse me, please,” said Danny to no one in particular and pushed himself up from the table, reaching for his hat in the same motion.

“Put your dishes on the cupboard, please,” reminded Clara.

Danny did as told and bolted from the kitchen.

“He has animals to feed,” Francine informed Jenny, already recovered from her recent chastising.

Jenny’s eyes widened in interest.

“A young fox kit,” explained Francine. “It was hurt. A hawk almost got it—or something. An’ a rabbit that looks old. An’ a sparrow. An’ a—”

“I don’t think Jenny is interested,” cut in Virginia, but this time she tried to keep her voice from being harsh. She did not want to risk more of Francine’s tears.

Looking repentant, Francine stopped, though Virginia knew that the little girl would never understand how someone would not be interested in small animals.

But Jenny turned to Virginia. “I’d like to see them—after,” she said. “Would your brother mind?”

CHAPTER 11

T
hings settled into a rather humdrum routine. There was school to rule their day, chores that needed to be attended to after returning home, and Jenny’s daily exercises and massaging with Belinda. Then Jenny helped out on things she could do with limited arm movement, like setting the table for supper. Occasionally she even joined the family for the meal when her father was gone.

Virginia began to adjust to the new schedule. She even began to feel more comfortable with it, and Jenny acted as though she could hardly wait to get to the Simpson home. Virginia had the feeling that Jenny enjoyed having Belinda fuss over her, and at times she felt a twinge of jealousy. After all, Belinda was
her
mother. It wasn’t Virginia’s fault that Jenny’s mother had run off when she’d been just a little thing.

It wasn’t long until Jenny was appearing around on Saturdays, too. She seemed to find any excuse to come to the Simpson home. She listened to Francine’s chatter, watched Danny take care of his little critters, and helped Clara bake.

Virginia’s feelings shifted back and forth. On the one hand, she felt that Jenny was making too deep an inroad into the family. It was
her
family, not Jenny’s. But her attitude brought guilt. She knew she was wrong to feel that way. It made her a little hesitant when she said her prayers each night. Would God even listen to someone who harbored selfish thoughts? Might He decide that she needed punishment of some kind? It was rather scary.

Francine came skipping to meet Virginia as she returned home from the grocery on an errand for her mother. “We’re going to Grandpa’s farm,” she called before reaching her sister.

Virginia, feeling hot and sticky on the warm Indian summer day, managed a smile. A trip to the farm was always welcome. And on a Saturday—that meant that not so many cousins would be present and she could have her grandparents almost to herself.

“Mama wants to talk to Grandma ’bout Clara’s wedding, and she says we can go along.”

Virginia felt her pace quicken. Francine whirled around and skipped along beside her.

“Are the boys going?” asked Virginia. “Nope. Just the ladies.”

Virginia smiled indulgently at Francine’s including of herself with “the ladies.” But she nearly started skipping, too, in the excitement of a females-only outing.

“When?” she asked the little girl.

“Mama is just waiting for you to get home. Clara already has her hat on.”

Oh, it was just too wonderful.

Jenny.
Her steps slowed momentarily as she remembered that they would already be gone when Jenny found some excuse to slip over to the house. Virginia felt a bit smug. She ignored her conscience and decided it would serve Jenny right. She had practically been living with them lately. She did have a home of her own.

“Mama is gonna pick Jenny up, too,” Francine enthused. Virginia stopped short.

“Jenny?”

“Yep. She thinks a visit to Grandma’s would be good for her.”

Virginia felt her anger rise. Why? Why let Jenny intrude even further? She had already taken over the Simpson house? hold. It seemed that there was hardly ever a time they were just a family anymore. And now her mama was taking her to Grandma and Grandpa’s, as well. It wasn’t fair. They were
her
grandparents. Not Jenny’s. Jenny had no right to be included. Grandma might end up fussing over Jenny just like her mother did.
It wasn’t fair.

Virginia felt such a knot in her stomach that she feared she might be sick. Francine, normally so sensitive to others’ feelings, seemed not to notice as she took up her skipping again.

“Do you think Jenny will like the porch swing?” she asked innocently. “I like the porch swing. ’Specially when Grandma swings, too.”

The knot in Virginia’s stomach tightened. She did not want to share her grandmother with Jenny. And she certainly didn’t want to share her grandmother’s swing.

“I’m not going,” she announced firmly, stopping on the boardwalk.

Francine, too shocked to even speak, swung around and looked at her big sister as if she had taken leave of her senses.

Virginia glowered at her. “Go tell Mama I’m not going.”

It was an order, but Francine did not move.

“Go,” said Virginia, almost shrieking. “She’s in a hurry—go tell her.”

“She’s not in
that
big a hurry,” Francine finally managed to say. “She’s waiting for you.”

“I’m not going.”

Francine began to blink, and Virginia knew tears were on the way. She felt like slapping Francine. The young girl’s face just brought further guilty feelings.

“Mama is taking Jenny—just for you,” Francine tried to explain.

“No,” declared Virginia hotly. “Mama is taking Jenny just for Jenny. That’s all she ever thinks about anymore.” Her voice turned to mocking. “Jenny needs friends. Jenny needs family. Jenny needs church. Jenny needs a nurse.” It sounded like a chant. “I am so sick of it I could … could just throw up.”

Francine’s chin began to tremble. But now it was not only Francine who cried. Virginia could feel the hot tears running down her own cheeks.

“I’m not going,” she flung at Francine. “And you can just tell Mama that.”

“She needs … needs the packages,” Francine wept. “She’s been waiting … for the packages.”

“Here!” said Virginia, thrusting the two bundles into Francine’s arms. “Now go.”

With one more anguished look at her older sister, Francine turned and started for the house. Virginia could hear the childish sobs even as she spun around and began to run toward the outskirts of the town and the creek beyond.

Virginia did not stop running until she reached the trees along the creek bank. By then her chest was heaving as she fought for breath, and her legs felt like jelly. Streaming tears had wet her hair that was tangled about her face. She flung herself down on a grassy knoll and gave in to the sobs constricting her throat. Jenny. She hated Jenny. Everything bad that had ever happened to her was because of Jenny.

First she got her into all kinds of trouble—then she turned her whole family against her. Her mama spent more time taking care of Jenny’s bad hand than she ever did with her. She fussed over her and fixed her special things to eat and sent little packages of goodies home with her and talked to her about how God loved her and how the church and—the woeful list went on and on.

And now this. Jenny was about to steal away her grand? mother. That was more than Virginia could bear. Much more. To see Grandma Marty fussing over Jenny would be the final straw. For a dreadful moment she wished it had been Jenny who had been under the water—not Freddie Crell. The thought was so terrible that she rushed inwardly on to another one.
What did Freddie do to deserve to die? It was all Jenny’s idea anyway….
But her terrible guilt at such a wish made her nearly choke on the sobs pouring from her shaking chest.

Her whole secure world was slowly unraveling, and there was nothing—
nothing
—that she could do about it. Suddenly she felt something touching her shoulder—gently, yet firmly. Fear pushed through her veins like fire. Was some wild animal—?

She lay absolutely still holding her breath, fearful to move a muscle. A soft murmur reached her ears. It was hardly audible. Not distinguishable sounds. Certainly not understandable. But then the feather-light brushing of hair and patting of shoulder reminded her of Danny stroking one of his little animals. She moved just enough to peek through her fingers and see a booted foot near her head.

For one moment she didn’t know whether to be relieved or more frightened. The little sound came again. A gentle, soothing, wordless sound.

Virginia could hold herself in check no longer. She pushed up slightly and lifted her head.

Rett Marshall knelt beside her, one hand stroking her head and shoulder. The look of intense sympathy on his face and a gentleness in his eyes melted her heart that had felt like a stone in her chest. She lay her head back down on the dried grass and newly fallen leaves and let the sobs once again shake her body.

He stayed with her as long as she continued to cry. When her shoulders quit their convulsive shaking and the tears no longer ran down her cheeks, she gradually became aware that she was now alone. When he had left her and how he had gone was totally a mystery. But for some strange reason she could not have explained, she felt comforted.

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.”