The Tender Years (17 page)

“I just think you were too bold,” Virginia said instead, making a conscious effort to control her voice and her emotions.

Jenny cocked her head saucily. “Jamison didn’t think I was too bold.”

“How do you know?”

“He would have said.”

“He would not have. He’s too—”

“Polite. I know.”

They were almost yelling at each other.

Then Jenny took another tack. “Grow up, Virginia. You don’t always need to
say
something. You can tell—without words—how a boy feels.”

Virginia did not have a rebuttal. What did she know about such things? She had never had a beau. Not really. Freddie’s invitation to The Sweet Shop certainly didn’t provide her with much knowledge.

“Besides,” went on Jenny loftily, “I really think that what goes on between Jamison and me is our business.”

Virginia did have an answer for that. She had heard it from her folks often enough. The conduct on youth activities was to be open and above-board. One could be dismissed from the Youth Group if one behaved badly.

“Not when you’re with the Youth Group.”

“What do you mean?” At least Jenny’s attention was now fully on Virginia.

“Proper conduct. The pastor will not allow—” how was she to describe it for Jenny? “—fondling—mauling—in the Youth Group.”

“I was not mauling.”

“You were. You squeezed Jamison so tight he could hardly catch his breath.”

“How do you know?”

“I could tell. I was just behind you—remember?”

Their voices had risen again.

“I’m fifteen—” began Jenny and was cut off sharply.

“Not yet.”

“I am as good as fifteen, Virginia Simpson. I am quite old enough to be courting, and I—”

“Not in our Youth Group,” Virginia countered quickly. Her voice was now louder than Jenny’s.

“Then maybe I won’t go to the Youth Group anymore.”

Virginia had many conflicting emotions crowding to the fore. That would be a relief. No, that would be a shame. It would be her fault. She needed to apologize. Quickly. But she didn’t want to. Jenny was being so difficult.

“Fine,” she said before she could stop the words. “If that’s what you want.”

She was about to remind Jenny that Jamison would be going to the Youth Group, but she decided against mentioning that fact.

Jenny tossed her red hair, almost shaking the wool hat from her head.

“You are just jealous. You wish that Jamison had picked you. That’s all. You wanted to be the one huggin’ him.”

“That’s a big, bold lie. I never would have squeezed him like that. Never. It was totally … completely … too forward.”

Jenny was laughing. Laughing—right in the middle of an out-and-out war.

But Virginia failed to see the humor in the situation.

“Someday you will grow up,” Jenny said when she could control her voice again. “You’ll—aw, never mind. You wouldn’t understand. You’re such a child.”

Jenny’s last words were said soberly, caustically. They cut Virginia to the quick.

“You are—” she faltered for a description, but Jenny saved her from having to think of one.

“And you are jealous,” Jenny flung into the air between them.

Virginia was relieved they were at their parting corner.

Virginia wanted to hurry home to the safety of her own bedroom. But she knew that before she reached her place of privacy, she would need to pass through the warmth of the big kitchen. Her father and mother would be waiting up with questions about the night’s outing. Her steps slowed in her reluctance to face them.

How could she tell them that Jenny and she had fought? That she had been cruel and self-serving? That Jenny had vowed not to come to Youth Group anymore? It was her fault. What had made her so touchy? So critical? She had just dashed the chances of her own prayers being answered. It was foolish. So foolish. She had lost all hope of being the right influence in Jenny’s life. How would she ever win Jenny back again? How could she have risked it? And why? Why?

Her racing thoughts went back to the evening that had just passed. It had started out with such high hopes. They had not been able to wait to reach the hill together. And then, then everything seemed to go wrong. Jamison’s invitation. Jenny’s response to her push forward. And then things just seemed to get worse and worse. Jenny had spent the entire night fluttering around Jamison. He had hardly been able to move without bumping into her.

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

V
irginia 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 thing.” 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.