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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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BOOK: The Virtuous Woman
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Francis heard the roar of an engine outside his window and got up to look out. He laughed when he saw the shiny new cycle pull up. “Well, it’s Ruby back again.” He waited for the bang of the outside door, then heard her take the steps two at a time. He opened his apartment door and she burst in from the hallway.

“Come on, Francis. I want you to see my new Italian bike.”

“I saw it. It makes more noise than a twin locomotive.”

“You’ve gotta come with me.”

“I’m busy right now.” He stepped aside, and for the first time Grace saw a pretty young woman who had risen to her feet. “This is Karen Bell,” Francis said. “She’s doing some research for me. Karen, this is Ruby ... I mean Grace Winslow.”

“Hi,” Grace said, her curiosity stirred. “You been workin’ for this guy long?”

“No, I just started.” Karen was staring at her outfit and said, “I saw your motorcycle. Do you ride it everywhere?”

“I just got it.” She turned to Key. “Kev got it for me. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

“I’m not sure. I think those things are dangerous.”

“Come on. You’ve gotta go for a ride.”

“Not me,” Francis said. “I’d like to keep all my arms and legs.”

Grace was happier than she had ever been in her life. She grabbed his arm and squeezed it.

Miriam squawked, “
My
Francis!”

“Be quiet, Miriam!” Grace laughed. “I won’t take no for an answer. You won’t even need a helmet. Just sit on the back and hang on.”

Key gave in and shrugged. “I knew you’d get me killed before this was over.” He put down the paper he was holding. “Karen, you can go ahead and keep working. I won’t be gone too long.”

“All right, Francis.”

Grace led the way outside and flung her leg over the motorcycle. She kicked the starter, and when the engine revved, she said, “Come on and get on. I’m gonna show you what a real ride is like.”

Nervously Key got on and put his arms around her waist. “No tricks, now. Just take it easy.”

“Sure.”

Key felt himself pitched backward as she gunned the machine. He gasped and held on tightly. He was very aware of the fullness of her figure and knew that she was delighted at having succeeded at getting him on the bike. He clung to her as she turned a corner, leaning over precariously. “Not so fast!” he shouted.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Francis!”

It was the ride of Key’s life, and thirty minutes later she pulled up in front of his apartment building. “How’d you like it?” she asked.

Releasing his grip, he stepped off and grinned at her. “It’s
as fun a way of committing suicide as any I ever saw. Come on in. You can tell me all about this fancy new bike.”

When they got inside, Karen was gone.

“Where’s she off to?” Grace asked curiously.

“Probably to the library.” Key dropped a cover over Miriam’s cage, ignoring her protests.

“She’s a pretty girl.”

“I suppose so.”

Pulling off her helmet, Grace said, “You
suppose
so. Didn’t you notice?”

Key shrugged. “I guess I did. She’s good at research—that’s why I hired her. Would you like something to eat?”

“Sure. I’m starved.”

“How about tuna fish sandwiches? I made up some tuna salad last night.”

“Yeah.”

The two worked together to move the stacks of papers and books from the table to the floor to squeeze in enough room for two plates. Soon they were sitting at the table, finishing up their sandwiches and washing them down with soda pop.

“How’s the book goin’?” Grace asked.

“All right, I guess. Do you read many novels?”

“Just romances. Does yours have any romance in it?”

“Sure it does.”

“I thought writers had to know about things in order to write about them.”

Key gave her an indignant look. “I know about romance.”

“How? You read about it in books?”

“Sure.”

Grace could not sit still. She got up and paced the floor, then came over to stand behind him. “I tried to teach you something about romance, but you didn’t want any lessons.”

“I told you I’m sorry—”

“Oh, forget it, Francis. You’re just the way you are. Tell me about the book.” She curled up on the cot, her feet beneath her, and listened as he told her a little about it. He was
reluctant to give her too many details, though. Finally she said, “Give me some of it to read.”

“Not until it’s finished, but you can read this.” He picked up a book and handed it to her.

She looked at the title. “
Old Pioneers.
What’s it about?”

“Read it, and then we’ll talk.”

“All right.” She got up and said, “I’ll let you get back to work now.” As she started out the door, she turned and asked, “What about Karen? Are you two havin’ a thing?”

“No, of course not. It’s just business.”

“Didn’t you ever have a woman, a real girlfriend, I mean, Francis?”

“That’s none of your business.”

This only egged her on. “Ever plan to have one?”

“Yes.” Francis Key did not like this conversation, and he began to push her out the door. “Thanks for the motorcycle ride.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When are you going to get a real woman, a girlfriend?”

“When I find one I want to spend my whole life with. Somebody I can grow old with.”

Grace found this amusing. “So the two of you will lose all your teeth and get gray hair and go creakin’ around together?”

“That’s it.”

“I think that’s sweet.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll come back and give you another ride tomorrow, but I still think you’re a freak.”

“I guess so.”

Key watched as she left the room, then went to the window. As she got on the motorcycle and roared off, he touched the spot where she had kissed him. “I guess I am a freak,” he muttered ruefully.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Last Straw

Kevin burrowed down into the easy chair with his feet propped up on a hassock and intently studied the book before him. Two walls of his bedroom were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with books of all sizes and colors and shapes. This was only a small part of his collection—those he used regularly. The rest he kept in the family library downstairs. Lifting his eyes, he glanced around the room and looked at the family portrait his father had painted before Kevin’s accident. His father had posed them all outside under a spreading oak tree near the fish pond. The picture captured the spirit of the youthful family well. Kevin rested his eyes on his own image, and he thought how well his father had caught his personality at that period of his life. He had keen, sharp memories of how he had thrown himself into life with a joyous expectancy. He studied the smooth face, unscarred, the eager eyes and the ready smile. Tears came to his eyes and he quickly looked away as he thought of what he had lost. He did not need a reminder of that.

Feeling frustrated, he got up, tossed the book on a table already laden with magazines, papers, and notebooks, and went to look out the window. The sun had just risen and was throwing its fiery beams over the landscape. His eyes ran around the hedges, the flower beds, the pond, and the carefully nurtured young trees, and for a moment he felt some satisfaction with his work. Then without warning, a thought challenged him:
I’ve done all I can do to this place.

The thought was disturbing. Ever since he had recovered from the accident, he had taken refuge from the world here on the estate—working on engines or reading or developing the landscaping. He knew every foot of this place—no, not every foot. He knew every inch. He had planted and dug until he wasn’t sure what more he could do to add to it. Sadly, he realized he had come to the end of his usefulness here. He had become a lonely young man, and except for his family, he was close to no one. Now the sight of the fully developed landscaping left him feeling empty. “I guess I’m like Alexander the Great, with no new worlds to conquer,” he muttered.

Restlessly he turned from the window and moved along the bookcase, slowly perusing his books. He had a fondness for literature and had collected an excellent collection of poetry, plays, and novels. But he also had an entire bookshelf full of technical works—mostly on the history and development of machinery. Another bookshelf was filled with the history of aviation, and on one of the walls not covered with books there was an enlarged photo of the first flight at Kitty Hawk of the Wright brothers’ biplane, Wilbur running alongside and Orville at the controls.

Looking over to the section of his library devoted to aviation, he ran his eyes along the titles. He had read them all so many times, he had no urge to read any of them again. He moved back to his chair and picked up the Bible that lay on the table. He was a faithful reader of the Scriptures and was now challenging himself to read it all the way through from Genesis to Revelation. He had done this three times already, and the words of the Authorized Version had become very much a part of him. He opened the book to the fourth chapter of Esther. He had never particularly cared for this book—not as he did for the Psalms or the Gospels or some of the others—but he read it dutifully. He had mentioned once to his father that he didn’t see much purpose in the story. His father had said,
God has a purpose for everything, son. That book
might not speak to you right now, but it has spoken to God’s people throughout history. Someday it might speak to you.

He had already read how the Jews were about to be massacred due to the hatred of Haman, and how Mordecai, the wise old Jew, had prayed to God to deliver them. He remembered that Mordecai had told her she must go to the king and beg for the lives of her people, and Esther had reminded him that if she were to do that without being summoned by the king, according to the law, she might be executed. Then came the words of the old Jew to the young queen in the fourth chapter.
“Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

He had never paid more than passing attention to these words, but now they caught at him, and he could not understand why. He knew the rest of the story. He knew Queen Esther did go to the king and he listened to her and consequently the Jews were saved from death. But Kevin could not understand why this particular line was so strong in his mind right now. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Lord, I don’t understand why this Scripture suddenly seems so important to me. But I ask that you enlighten me and give me wisdom, in the name of Jesus.”

For a long time Kevin sat there waiting patiently. He had learned that God does not rush into a man’s life or his thoughts, but that meditating on the words of Scripture allows them to become significant and meaningful. Finally he closed the Bible, but he knew he would keep thinking of that simple sentence until it made sense to him.

He had just laid the Bible down when a knock came at his door. He got up to answer it, wondering who would want him this early in the morning. He was usually the first one up. When he opened the door and saw Paige, he said, “What are you doing up this early?”

“I’ve got to talk to you, Kev.”

“Sure. Come on in.” He stepped back, and when she entered, he closed the door. “Something wrong?”

She was wearing a light blue robe and fluffy slippers. Her hair was disturbed, and Kevin understood that for her to come to him in this disarray meant something was bothering her. “Is somebody sick?” he asked quickly.

“No, not that. I came to talk to you about Grace.”

“Why, sure. Come on and sit down.”

“No, I’m too nervous.” Paige began to pace back and forth, a troubled air about her. “I’ve got to talk to someone. Dad won’t listen to me, and Mom won’t either.”

Kevin understood her problem. He had already given it a lot of thought. “I know you’re worried about Grace, but I think it’s all going to work out.”

“Going to work out! How can you say that?” Paige flung her hand in a wild gesture, her eyes pleading with him. “She’s ruining the family, Kev. Can’t you see that? You know what a spectacle she made of herself at the party. John’s parents were horrified, and I don’t blame them.”

“She’s had a hard life, but she’ll come out of it. She just hasn’t had a good upbringing for her to learn proper behavior. All she needs is love and lots of prayer.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say, Kev. You don’t have to face the world. You’ve made yourself a little kingdom here, and you’re satisfied with it.”

Kevin did not answer, but her words stung. He suddenly remembered the Scripture he had been reading:
“Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
The kingdom that he had made did not seem to be much. He had long felt that life was passing him by and he was helpless to do anything about it. He shook off thoughts of his own problems and tried to concentrate on Paige. “Have you talked to John about her?”

“Yes, I have, and he tells me that his parents have spoken to him very strongly.”

“I can understand if they’re shocked. They’re the ones that live in a secluded world, Paige. Oh, I know I do too, but all they know is the world of the rich. They can’t begin to
understand what it’s like to struggle with poverty and the way that Grace has had to live.”

“She doesn’t have the same values we do, Kev. Can’t you see that? She was brought up in a different world. People can’t just step out of one world and into another one. I’ll admit, if I tried to go to her world, I’d be a failure. Well, she’s a failure trying to come into ours. We just don’t believe in the same things. You know that. For starters, I’m sure she’s not even a Christian. On top of that she smokes and drinks and runs around with men, and her mouth—well, you’ve heard her curse. She’s simply not a virtuous woman.”

“Maybe she isn’t now, but she can be.”

“When? She might never change, and if she doesn’t, what are we going to do with her?”

“We’re just going to have to be patient. I know she’s rough on the outside, but inside there’s something sweet.”

Paige laughed without humor. “Sweet! She certainly looked sweet when she came dragging that awful man in, both of them drunk, and when she wrecked our party with that private detective who tagged along after her.”

BOOK: The Virtuous Woman
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ads

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