The Tender Years (16 page)

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?”

“I … I am ready,” Virginia answered. Her voice was gentle but held an underlying hint of don’t-challenge-me.

“No, you’re not,” Rodney insisted in spite of her unspoken warning. “You’re wearing a school dress. An everyday dress.”

Virginia did not even look down at her dark blue wool. Plain and drab, it had never been a favorite. It had been one of Clara’s, handed-down and resewn. Now it was beginning to show wear on the cuffs and elbows.

She would have felt so much more church-ready in her new green and orange print. Those colors didn’t really describe it. It was more … more a soft minty green with even softer shades of melon. Sort of like sun-warmed peaches and ripe apricots. It had lace cuffs and leg-o’-mutton sleeves. Such a pretty gown, and it made her feel so grown-up. Everyone had complimented her on it. But …

Her eyes lifted to her mother’s. Did she understand?

The eyes that met hers were shiny with unshed tears. A hand reached out to gently brush her shoulder, pat just a little, then recede. Her mother was nodding. Just nodding. She blinked once and raised a handkerchief to her eye.

She not only understood. She approved. Jenny would not be the only girl at church wearing a simple school dress.

CHAPTER 15

T
he weather finally warmed. Not all at once. Gradually, each day a little bit, so that one hardly noticed the difference at all. But then a morning came when one suddenly realized that it was no longer bone-chilling to step out of the house. A sure sign of early spring, schoolchildren began to argue against wearing heavy woolen stockings and scarfs that covered chins and noses.

Virginia was glad for the change. She was tired of winter. Of hearing her mother’s reminders about bundling up every time she stepped toward the door.

She was looking forward to the tobogganing party that the Youth Group had planned. And Jenny was going. She had made that clear enough—pestering Virginia almost daily about the plans. Jenny already knew every detail there was to know, but she still insisted on asking questions that Virginia couldn’t answer. How was Virginia to know what Ida intended to wear or if Jamison had his very own toboggan?

“I hope, if he does, it’s just a two-seater,” Jenny sighed.

Virginia was perplexed—then quickly understood. Jenny did not want company along on her trip down the hill with Jamison.

Virginia had never given Jamison much thought before Jenny arrived. He was just one of the Youth Group. One of the older boys who pestered or ignored the girls as the mood seemed to strike. Now Virginia was forced to take another look at him. She supposed that most of it was due to Jenny’s constant prattling about him, but the Valentine’s party had certainly increased the awareness. And there was the fact that Jamison almost always made some kind of contact each Sunday. Often it was just a nod, or a simple hello. But once he had actually spoken, and one other Sunday, he had helped her find a hook and hung her heavy coat up for her. Virginia had blushed slightly.

But Jenny—Jenny never let up about Jamison. Jamison this and Jamison that. Virginia was weary of it. At the same time she did not want to say or do anything that would offend Jenny. Jenny was coming to church every Sunday now. She even had a nice dress. It was a rich green that had been Clara’s. Clara had been rather artful about it. Virginia remembered it well. She and Jenny had been seated at the kitchen table, schoolbooks spread out before them in pretense of studying. Actually, Jenny was just using it as an excuse to fantasize concerning Jamison again.

“He looked right at me on Sunday. I expect him to speak any day now.”

Virginia had winced.

“Did you see him look at me? Do you think he likes me? C’mon, be honest now.”

Virginia swallowed. How was she to answer that?

Clara had entered the kitchen at that precise moment. Virginia sighed in relief. Clara held her green dress over one arm.

“Jenny, I’ve been wondering,” she began and lifted the dress up for Jenny to see. Virginia could see the expression on Jenny’s face. She knew her friend well enough to know that Jenny thought the dress was very pretty.

“This is getting a bit tight. Virginia is built so slight, my dresses are never … just right for her.”

Virginia knew that Clara’s carefully chosen words, though true as far as they went, were just a bit slanted. She and Clara had never been “built alike,” but that had not stopped her mama from remaking every dress that Clara had ever outgrown. It was always made over to look new, but it was Clara’s old material just the same. And this dress—this pretty green material that Clara had saved her very own money to purchase—was not
that
tight on Clara.

“You and I are … almost the same build. Through the shoulders,” Clara went on. “I wondered—do you mind hand-me-downs? We could change the collar and the cuffs and maybe cut the waist a little different. It’s a little fussy for school, but it would do—nicely—for church and such. Mama is a skilled seamstress and—”

Jenny’s eyes had spoken for her.

It was Clara who actually did the sewing. Jenny whirled and spun and admired herself with flushed cheeks each time there was a fitting. The color suited Jenny’s green eyes and fair skin. It made her red hair look gloriously bright. Like polished bronze, Virginia’s mother had said.

Virginia had decided that if ever Jamison was to take notice of Jenny, it would be accomplished by that green dress. Every other boy in the church certainly had already noticed her. Virginia could see the stares and hear the husky whispers that first Sunday when she and Jenny had walked into church together. Jenny looked almost giddy with the power she had suddenly found. But she had expected Jamison to fall at her feet, and she had been disappointed.

Virginia stirred from her reverie. It seemed that her thoughts were too often directed toward Jamison.

But perhaps that wasn’t strange—considering the amount of time that Jenny spent with her and the fact that Jenny was always going on about the young man. Virginia smiled. Jenny always referred to Jamison now as a “young man.” Virginia decided that it probably made Jenny feel more like a “young woman.” And she still had not reached her fifteenth birthday.

“I’ll soon be fifteen,” she liked to remind Virginia, totally ignoring the fact that Virginia would be fast on her heels in reaching that significant milestone.

“My mama was—”

Virginia found it hard to be patient with Jenny’s chattering. Sure, her mama had married early, but where was her mama now?

But it would have been cruel to make such remarks to Jenny. The Simpson family prayed regularly for Jenny. The girl was still much on her mother’s heart. Jenny remained a deep concern to Virginia herself. Jenny persisted in pushing away from spiritual truth and life. In spite of her involvement with the youth, in spite of her newly established church attendance, Jenny had not seemed to soften one bit toward God. It made Virginia uneasy. Her mother encouraged her to continue to pray—and trust.

The moon chose to hide its face behind a ribbon of cloud on the night of the tobogganing party. The young people compensated by building little bonfires at intervals along the hillside run. At least there would be enough light to keep flying tobog? gans and sleds from running into one another. That is, if the occupants kept their heads up and their wits about them.

It was a pleasant evening, stars beginning to twinkle against the darkening northern sky. Just cold enough to make the snow crunchy under the heel of a boot or the runners of a sleigh. A big plus for the sledders was the fact that there was no wind.

Virginia and Jenny were already breathless by the time they joined the excited group on the hill. Virginia was not sure her pounding heart was from the hurry through the night, burdened with warm clothing so she could hardly move, or the thought of the fun that was ahead.

She saw Jenny begin her usual scan of faces and knew without asking that Jenny was searching for Jamison.

“There he is,” Jenny said, giving Virginia’s arm a hard squeeze. “Over there—and he does have a toboggan.” But to Jenny’s disappointment, Jamison’s toboggan looked like it would carry four or five passengers. Maybe even six, if they crowded.

Jamison was heading their way.

“Hi,” he called with a wave of a mittened hand. “Just get here? Do you want to go down?”

The question was really directed to Virginia, but the sweep of his glance included Jenny. Virginia did not have to guess what Jenny’s answer would be.

Jamison was already lining up his toboggan for the run down the hill. Jenny was excitedly bouncing from one foot to the other, hardly able to contain herself as she clapped mittened hands together.

Jamison settled himself at the front of the toboggan, carefully tucking in his feet and adjusting the tension on the rope in his hands.

“Tuck in close behind me, Virginia—”

Virginia did not catch the rest of Jamison’s directions to her as to how she should sit, how to best hang on.

Her mind was frozen. Jenny was expecting to
tuck in
. What should she do now?

Without stopping to think, she gave Jenny a little push on the back that indicated that she was to move forward and take a seat directly behind the young man. Jenny did not need a second invitation. She snuggled up against Jamison’s back, her arms reaching around his middle to cling firmly for the ride down the hill. Virginia could only stand and stare. She did hope Jamison realized that it was not she who clung so tightly to him.

“Load it up,” called Jamison, and Virginia stirred from her daze to climb on behind Jenny. Two boys noisily and clumsily piled on behind them.

“Give us a start,” called Jamison to no one in particular, and hands were soon at their backs, giving them a running start down the hill.

It was a thrilling ride. Virginia’s thoughts concentrated on the sharp wind in her face and the bumps and jolts of the hill? side flying beneath them as they careened down, snow stinging their faces where they were not hidden behind scarves.

Virginia heard Jenny’s shrill, excited screams. She could imagine that the girl was using this excuse to give Jamison the tightest bear hug he’d ever been given. She felt her face flush again.

They didn’t quite make it all the way to the bottom. In the increasing darkness, the flames of the bonfires did not reveal all the obstacles on the course. Just as they reached maximum speed, they hit a large bump under the snow. The toboggan flew into the air, and when they all landed, sled and people had parted company.

Soft snowbanks cushioned the fall, and the laughing, breathless bodies wriggled out, brushing snow out of faces, getting limbs untangled, and their feet properly under them again.

Jamison reached down a hand to assist his companion to her feet. Virginia, just clambering to her own feet, saw the surprised look on his face. He had thought that it was she, Virginia, who had crowded in behind him, clinging firmly and squealing in his ear all the way down the hill. She saw the quick dart of his glance around the group as he tried to sort through how this switch of girls had happened. When he caught Virginia’s eye, she couldn’t really be sure what he was thinking. Did he look disappointed? She continued to brush at the snow on her coat, letting her eyes drop away from Jamison’s.

Jenny had not noticed. Still giggling, she had not even started to clean off the snow. “What a ride,” she squealed. “Jamison, you were terrific! How can you ever steer when we’re going so fast? And in the air half the time?” She giggled again.

Virginia turned away. She really didn’t want to hear any more.

“Let’s go again,” Jenny’s voice followed her. “It’s … it’s
superb
! It’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Virginia wasn’t sure that her own sentiments were expressed by Jenny’s words.

Virginia could never remember just how the quarrel started. One minute they were walking home under the stars together, Jenny bubbling on and on about all the trips down the hill on Jamison’s toboggan, how he always gave her a hand to help her up from the snow, how he brought her a cup of hot chocolate, how his eyes looked by the light of the dancing fire—and suddenly Virginia could take no more.

“You made rather a fool of yourself,” she said without any preamble, her voice tight.

Jenny whirled to look at her, defense then defiance quickly flashing in her green eyes.

“You practically chased him all night. He … he couldn’t move without you,” Virginia went on, shaking her head in disgust.

“I did no such—”

“You did, too, and you know it. Every time he took the toboggan to the top of the hill, you piled on before he even asked you to.”

Jenny’s eyes were smoldering. “I got on because he wanted me to,” she countered.

“I never heard him say so.”

“He didn’t have to say so.”

“What makes you think—”

“Did you hear him ask me to stay off?”

“Of course not. He’s too polite for that.”

“Did he ask you?”

Virginia could have said yes. Yes, he had asked her. The very first time when she had nudged Jenny forward. It was to her that Jamison’s eyes had been turned. To her that he had issued the initial invitation.

She was tempted to say it. To tell Jenny that the place she had usurped for the whole evening had really been meant for her, Virginia. But she bit her tongue just in time. She couldn’t say that. She couldn’t. It would make Jenny angry. Hurt her deeply. She might never go to church with them again. And if she didn’t go to church, they had slim hope of ever winning her to a faith in God.