A Searching Heart (17 page)

“No, thank you. I am not much of a coffee drinker, I'm afraid. One cup is quite sufficient.”

“Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll just have my second cup.”

Virginia smiled and nodded without comment.

Mrs. Black poured her coffee, settled back in her chair, and generously poured cream into her cup.

“People are often a bit surprised when they see Tommy for the first time. They don't expect such a young man to be in the ministry. This is his first parish, you know. But Tommy never had a moment's doubt from the time he was eleven. Went straight into Bible college for pastoral studies from high school. That was all he ever wanted to be. All he felt God wanted him to be. His grandfather was a minister. I think Tommy had a special affinity with him.

“Oh, not that he chose the ministry because of his grandfather. No. He has always felt called himself. But I do think my husband's father had a great influence on the young boy. 'Course, Papa Black—that's what our family always called him— Papa Black influenced many lives. He was a good man.”

She stopped thoughtfully for a moment and then continued. “We lost him two years ago. And the next year—almost to the day—Tommy lost his father. He's had two very difficult years, my Tommy, but he seems to have weathered it well. Says it has made him far more understanding of others when they go through the loss of loved ones.”

Mrs. Black nodded her head, as though agreeing with her Tommy. “And it does. If one accepts it in the proper way.”

Virginia, who had listened silently, supposed the woman to be right, though she had never had the sorrow of losing someone close to her. She thought of her own grandfather and her father, and wondered how she would ever face it if something happened to either one of them. She felt a great sympathy for the young Reverend Black. Her gaze traveled toward the partially closed door where he had gone after breakfast. She could hear his voice, muted by the door and the distance, and from the pacing of the conversation, she guessed him to be making a telephone call.

“I am so sorry for this young friend of yours,” went on Mrs. Black. “To be going through the tragedy that she is going through and not to have her mother at her side . . . And for her father. I ache for him, as well. And his only child—that must be especially hard. Well, no,” she quickly added. “I guess it wouldn't matter if a parent had one or three dozen. Each one would be too precious to lose.”

The nearby door opened and Pastor Black came back into the room. His eyes addressed Virginia. “All set?”

“I just need to get my wraps and handbag.”

He nodded as Virginia pushed back from the table and voiced her thanks for the meal, then he turned to his mother. “Mrs. Winston is down with the flu again. Do you suppose you could take her a bit of broth or something? The Hensley baby is over the croup. Another prayer answered. If there should be any emergency calls for me while I'm out, call the hospital and have me paged, please.”

Virginia passed out of earshot, but a feeling of guilt made her face flush. Here she was in a strange city, usurping a pastor's time that should have been given to his parishioners. She wished her father had not made the call but had left her to fend for herself. Surely she was old enough and wise enough to find her way around a city, even a strange one. But on the other hand, knowing her parents, they would not have wanted her to “fend for herself.”

They began their trip to the hospital in silence, and Virginia mentally searched for some way to express her chagrin at taking up his valuable time. She scarcely knew where to start or how to voice her feelings and hesitated for some minutes before making an attempt. At length she just blurted out, “I'm so sorry that I am taking your time. I'm afraid my father is a bit overly protective. I can manage just fine. There is no reason for me to tie up your day when you have so many folks to tend to. Please, just drop me off at the hospital, and I'll take a taxi or a streetcar back and forth from now on.”

He looked surprised as she began but listened without interruption. When she was finished he did not argue, just nodded and replied, “Let's see what we find.”

What we find,
Virginia repeated in her mind. What would they find? Had Jenny regained consciousness? Was Jenny still with them? She had no idea what she would be facing when she walked into the hospital.

Then she remembered Jenny's father. What was the young minister expecting of him? That he was a stalwart Christian man, depending upon prayer to pull his daughter through her crisis? If Reverend Black was, he was in for a shock. Virginia wondered if she should warn him or let him take it as it came. She decided to hold her tongue. But concern made her tense. She did hope intensely that Jenny's father would not be intoxicated and abusive.

It was not a long drive to the hospital, and being a Saturday morning, the traffic was light. Before Virginia scarcely had time to collect her thoughts, Pastor Black was pulling into a parking space. Virginia took a deep breath. She had dreaded this moment all the way on the train. Hated to face it now. What awaited her in the tall brick building beyond the heavy oak doors?

To her surprise the young man beside her reached over and took her hand. Under normal circumstances she would have quickly withdrawn it from the grip of a stranger. “Let's pray,” he said. She felt her fingers wrap tightly about his as she clung to him for support and strength. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to quiet her heart for prayer.

She was never sure how much of his prayer she really heard or understood. It was enough to know that God had. By the time he said “Amen,” Virginia's eyes were filled with tears, but a strange new quietness had reached her heart.

He released her hand and opened the door of the auto. Virginia took a deep breath and followed suit.

“I assume we'll find her on the third floor,” he noted, “from your description of her injuries, but we'll stop at the front desk to inquire.”

Virginia realized that she was with someone who knew his way around this city hospital. Thankfully, she was more than happy to fall into step beside him and let him lead.

The minute he stepped through the large oak doors, he removed his hat. It was the first time Virginia had noticed how blond his hair was.

“Good morning, Pastor Black,” the lady at the desk greeted him.

“Good morning, Miss Davies,” was his reply.

“I didn't realize any of your parishioners were in just now,” she went on easily.

“No. No, none of mine directly, but a young woman was brought in with injuries from an auto accident. My friend wishes to see her.”

Virginia did not miss the words “my friend.”

“Her name is Jenny Woods. She is a university student,” he went on.

The woman's expression turned serious. Virginia felt fear tighten her chest.

“She's on the third floor. You'll have to ask if she's allowed visitors.”

Relief rushed over Virginia, making her feel suddenly weak.

“From what I understand, family members are the only ones allowed into her room. But ask at the desk on the floor. The situation may have changed.”

Pastor Black thanked her and steered Virginia toward an elevator.

Again Virginia wondered if she should prepare the minister for his meeting with Jenny's father. Perhaps she should at least tell him not to bother informing the hostile man that he was a man of the cloth. Mr. Woods was likely to go into one awful tirade upon hearing that piece of news. Virginia wanted no scenes in the hospital corridor.

But before Virginia could think of a way to voice her warning, they had arrived at the third floor and the elevator door was opening.

Oh, dear,
she rebuked herself.
It's too late now. I should have spoken when we were in the car.

The nursing station stood right before them, with two capped heads bent over charts. Both heads came up as the visitors approached. One faced them with a smile, the other remained as rigid as her starched cap.

“We are here to see Miss Jenny Woods,” Pastor Black informed the nearest nurse.

“Miss Woods? I'm sorry. Miss Woods is not prepared to see visitors at this time.”

The words were curt and definite. Virginia knew they were dealing with a professional who would bide no stretching of the rules.

“Can you give us any report on how Miss Woods is doing?”

“Only the doctor can relay a patient's condition. And only at the behest of the family.”

Virginia was feeling more and more discouraged. Had she come all this way to be refused admittance to Jenny's room? Even refused any knowledge of how Jenny was doing?

“Is her father with her?” Thomas Black asked.

“He was.”

“He's left?”

The nurse looked annoyed at the continued questioning. She looked straight at this man of the cloth, probably feeling that she could not avoid his questions and she dared not lie.

“He has left her room. I do not believe that he has left the hospital.”

He's been making trouble,
was Virginia's first thought.
His daughter's life hangs in the balance and he's been making a scene—or worse.

The young pastor turned to her. “Let's find him.”

He took her elbow to steer her away, then turned back to the stiff nurse, gave her a pleasant smile, and thanked her sincerely for her assistance.

“Wait,” said Virginia, stopping abruptly to face Reverend Black. “There's something you should know—about Mr. Woods.”

But it was too late. There was Jenny's father.

CHAPTER 13

M
r. Woods was standing amid a small cluster of people in white coats, stubborn chin thrust forward, eyes bulging with rage. One of the medical men had a restraining hand on his arm, another appeared to be blocking the way with his body.

Even from where she stood, Virginia could tell that Mr. Woods was very angry. She also guessed, by his stance and his flushed face, that he was very intoxicated. His clothing looked rumpled and stained.

She wanted to turn around and flee, but the young minister still held her arm.

“Is that . . . Jenny's father?” he was asking in a quiet voice.

Virginia could only nod. Her knees felt weak and her stomach queasy.

“Did he know you were coming?”

Virginia tried to swallow and shook her head.

“How will he respond when he sees you?”

Virginia began to tremble. “I've no idea,” she managed to answer.

“Do you wish me to go first—alone?”

Yes,
she wanted to respond, but again she shook her head slowly. She steeled herself and swallowed again.

“No,” she said instead, “I came to . . . to see if I could help. I . . . I'd best go myself.”

But it took all of her resolve to force her shaking legs forward.

As she neared the little gathering, she heard Mr. Woods bellow in a belligerent voice, “No one tells me when I can see my daughter.”

“Mr. Woods, sir,” one young white-clad man was patiently insisting, “under normal circumstances, that may be so. Please try to—”

Mr. Woods responded with an outpouring of profanity. Virginia had never heard anything like it in her entire life. She felt faint. How could she—how could anyone deal with this totally unreasonable man?

She felt a presence by her side and realized that the young minister had stepped up beside her. It gave Virginia courage. Without hesitation she moved quickly forward and directly in front of the angry man. His hand came up as though to roughly push her aside. She spoke quickly. “Mr. Woods. It's Virginia.”

To her relief the hand paused, then moved to pass over his eyes instead, as though he was sure he must be hallucinating.

“It's Virginia,” she repeated. She knew that Pastor Black was close beside her. With further courage she reached out a hand to the distraught father.

“You came,” he said, and the words of disbelief—was it also relief?—tore at Virginia.

The man's shoulders slumped. He rubbed the hand roughly over his face again. When he let it drop it was as though the face had crumpled. He began to shake as ragged sobs contorted his face. “They won't let me see my little girl.”

Virginia could barely understand the muffled words. “I know. I know,” she responded, moving closer, though the odor of stale liquor repelled her. “Let's sit down a moment,” she said in a coaxing voice and gently steered the broken man toward a small alcove with seats. She heard “Well, I'll be!” from one of the hospital personnel, no doubt relieved at the turn of events.

“They won't let me see my little girl,” Mr. Woods said again and again. “She's dying and they won't let me see her.”

The last words shook Virginia. Was Jenny really dying? With all her heart she prayed that it was not so.

Virginia began to search her pockets for a handkerchief for the man, knowing she would not want to see that bit of linen back again after this use. But it was the young pastor who provided the needed hankie.

Mr. Woods blew noisily and stuffed the item in his own pocket. Virginia was quite sure Pastor Black would not protest over the lost fabric square, either.

Mr. Woods seemed to be pulling himself together. He looked up through watery, bloodshot eyes, now noticing the young man who accompanied Virginia.

“Who are you?” he asked frankly.

“He's . . . he's with me,” Virginia quickly put in.

The man looked confused. “Him? This isn't your young man.”

His words caught Virginia off guard. No. It was not Jamison. Would people never cease referring to Jamison as her young man?

“He's a friend from here in town,” said Virginia, trying to gather her wits about her.

She saw the questioning look on the pastor's face and supposed he wondered why she had not introduced him as a minister. She would try to explain later. For now, it was important to keep Mr. Woods calm.