Like Gold Refined (11 page)

Please, Jenny
, her inner heart cried silently.
Please—stay here and let me take care of you. Don’t go back to your lonely room—your library. Stay with me
.

Jenny was saying to Belinda, “I found this new author. It’s the first I’ve read any of his work, but I quite liked it. I decided I’m going to look up more. It’s very light reading, but it … it sort of takes you out of the world for a few hours. His … ”

Olivia called and Virginia excused herself and went for the child. From then on there was little chance for more discussion. The child demanded her grandmother’s full attention, and soon Martha was pounding on the door, wet from playing in melting snow. Then it was James who let them know his nap time had ended. Virginia’s world was back to its normal chaos.

“I must get home,” announced Belinda, rising from her chair. She leaned over and gave Jenny’s thin shoulders a warm hug. “I do hope you change your mind and stay longer,” she said, but Jenny was noncommittal. Belinda then turned to Virginia and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, dear. Now that the weather has warmed, maybe you’ll make it into town for tea. It’s been a long time.”

Virginia acknowledged that it had been.

“Tell Jonathan and Slate I said hello.” She was about to pass through the door when she turned back. “Jenny,” she said, as though she just had the idea. “If staying here is too … too lively for you, why don’t you come in and spend some time with me? It’s quiet at my house. Much too quiet most of the time. You can read all you like. I have a whole shelf of books I doubt you’ve read, and there are more at the library.”

Jenny smiled and gave a little wave. “Thanks,” she answered, but Virginia was quite sure she had no intention of accepting the offer.

“Oh, Mama, here’s a loaf of that oatmeal bread you used to make.” And Virginia followed her mother out on the porch. Belinda quickly turned to her. “She looks a fright,” she whis? pered. “Is she well?”

Virginia could feel the tears gathering in her eyes. She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Has she said anything?”

Virginia swallowed away the lump in her throat and fought for control of her voice. “She’s … she’s very ill, Mama, but she doesn’t want any fuss about it.”

She read the horror in her mother’s eyes. “What …?” she began.

Virginia wished to blurt it all out to her nurse-mother, but she checked her impulse. “I can’t talk. I know little—Jenny made me promise. And I have to get back to the children.”

Belinda gave Virginia another kiss on the cheek and said, “Thanks for the bread,” and turned to go. “Call me,” she murmured. “Call me as soon as you can talk freely.”

Virginia turned back inside.
That’s the problem
, she thought.
Jenny has made me promise not to talk freely
.

In spite of the sunshine outside and the laughter of small children, a gloom seemed to settle over the house with Belinda’s departure. Virginia went about cleaning up from the coffee time. Jenny took her pack of cigarettes and another cup of coffee and headed for the shed.
Her lungs are gone and she still insists on poisoning herself
, Virginia noted, vexed with her stub? born friend.

She tried to put aside her impatience with Jenny and went straight to her supper preparations. Mindy would soon be home. Perhaps her presence would dispel some of the heavi? ness.

But when the child arrived, her face was troubled. She looked around the kitchen. “Is Mama Jenny still here?” was her first question.

“Yes. She’s out right now.”

Mindy looked both relieved and worried. “She hasn’t changed her mind, has she?”

“No. She still plans to go back home soon.”

“I don’t mean about that. I mean about God. She still doesn’t love Him, does she?”

“I—we haven’t talked about it … yet.”

“But she doesn’t even close her eyes when we pray.”

At Virginia’s knowing smile, Mindy rushed to explain. “Last night Jamie pulled my hair during prayer time, and I opened my eyes and Mama Jenny’s eyes were wide open. She was just sitting there looking at her hands.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think she likes God at all.”

“Mindy, honey, we mustn’t judge people for opening their eyes during grace.”

Mindy nodded solemnly. “But she doesn’t pray to God at all.”

“How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

“She told you?”

“When I went to my room last night to get my school clothes ready for today, I told her that I prayed for her every night. She said I might as well save my breath—it hadn’t done one bit of good. I asked her if she prayed, and she … she laughed and said, ‘Never.’ “

“She said that … to you?”

Mindy nodded, her eyes dark with concern. “I thought … I thought God answered prayer,” she said, her voice trembling.

Virginia bent and gathered her daughter close. “He does. Never, never lose faith in Him. He does. But sometimes, sometimes it just takes years and years of praying. And sometimes—sometimes people resist what He wants to do.”

“Mama Jenny’s resisting.”

“I think she is.”

Mindy thought about it. “I wish she would go away again,” she said quietly. “I don’t like her to be here. I can pray for her just as good when she’s in her own city.”

Virginia did not know how to respond. Jonathan was right. Jenny’s presence was upsetting the child. Just how much ground would they lose?

Again Jonathan retired early, leaving the two women to talk on their own. Virginia was not sure if it was for their sake or because he simply did not wish to play further at being the cheerful host. She knew he would spend the time reading until she came up to bed, keeping the light shaded from the sleeping children.

Slate, too, went to his room, though Virginia wondered fleetingly just what he would do with the long evening hours. Perhaps he would listen to the radio his folks had sent him for Christmas. Virginia had little time herself for the radio. The strange crackling voices put her on edge. It didn’t seem normal that somebody so many miles away should be heard in her living room. But Jonathan seemed to enjoy it, and the children took great delight in the radio and its music.

Virginia put another log on the fire and watched the sparks dance upward. She never tired of watching the flames. They seemed alive, full of vigor and joy. Yes, joy, that was it. They always looked as though they were dancing in pure delight.

“I’m off,” Jenny said with a yawn. “All this visiting exhausts me.”

You ought to try running after little ones and keeping up with meals and laundry
, thought Virginia but then felt guilty. Jenny was in no condition to do any of those things.

“Will Jonathan be able to take me to the train tomorrow?”

This was the first time Jenny had asked. On previous trips, she had informed them of her plans.

“You’re quite sure you want to go … so soon?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I’m sure he will be able to arrange it.”

“I’m going out for a cigarette before I go to bed.”

She left, and Virginia did not even pick up her knitting. She just sat and watched the red-and-gold flames lick at the new log until charred patches began to appear on each side of it. She was deep in thought—and she was weary. In a way that she did not wish to put into words, she agreed with Mindy. She would be glad when Jenny returned to her city. As much as she wanted her to stay, she would be glad when she was gone. Her visit had been a strain on the entire family.

Jenny was soon back. Virginia smiled, then sobered to say, “Jenny, you asked for no … no exhibitions. But I just want you to know that … that if there is ever anything I—we can do, we’re here.”

Jenny nodded but said nothing. Instead she moved toward the stairs, then turned back. “Don’t bother sending Mindy to school in the morning.”

Virginia frowned. “What do you mean? It’s a school day. We never keep her home from her classes even to see someone to the train.”

“She’ll not just be seeing me to the train. I’ll be taking my daughter with me.”

CHAPTER 11

V
irginia felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She tried to rise from her chair but fell back, staring numbly at Jenny’s back as she ascended the stairs, coughing as she climbed.

As the words sank into her numbed brain, Virginia slumped forward, face in her hands, and began to weep. Surely Jenny couldn’t mean it. Surely not. She had not spoken more than a dozen words to the child since she had been in the house. Mindy was their beloved daughter. Jenny had herself given the child to them. Many, many years earlier. Mindy was theirs.
Theirs
.

Then her own words, spoken such a short time ago to little Martha, rushed back to her churning thoughts. “You don’t give people away. The relationship is still there.”

It was true. Jenny was still Mindy’s mother—though she had long since relinquished the right. She had not wanted the little one. Had been about to place the toddler in an orphanage.
An orphanage
—with both parents still very much alive.

Virginia continued to weep. How could they ever stand losing Mindy? What would those little shadows think—Martha, Olivia, and James? How would Mindy feel, bereft of all her family in one swift, wrenching choice of a selfish mother’s desire? And Jonathan?

Jonathan!
Virginia sat straight in the chair, beginning to come to her senses.
I must tell Jonathan
.

She managed to get to her feet and started for the stairs, tears still coursing down her cheeks. Whatever would Jonathan do when he heard what she had to tell him?

Jonathan, propped up in bed, was reading an article in
Farmer’s Magazine
. He had borrowed her pillow to elevate his head. Without looking up from the page, he said in a low voice, “You’re early tonight. All talked out?”

“Jonathan,” she gasped and could say no more for her tears.

He looked up quickly, then thrust his magazine aside. “What is it? Has something happened? Where’s Jenny?”

Virginia could only shake her head wildly.

In two long strides he was in front of her and taking her by the shoulders. “What is it, Virginia?” he insisted, gently shaking her.

Virginia fought for control. She had to talk. Had to make sense—but her whole world was whirling around her. “Let’s go down to the kitchen so the children … ”

Jonathan followed her quickly back down the stairs. Virginia turned to face him, took a ragged breath and said, “Jenny—” She took another gulp to quiet herself. “Jenny is leaving tomorrow. … ” How could she actually say the words? “She’s … she’s taking Mindy.”

Virginia had never seen that expression on her husband’s face before. He pulled her tightly to his chest. His arms held her so close she could scarcely breathe. “Oh, Virginia” seemed to come from someplace deep within him. Then he said, “Shh. Shh. It’s all right. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

It was several minutes before Virginia could get control of her emotions. She had expected Jonathan to be angry, then to grieve along with her. Was he simply going to give in to Jenny’s determined plan? Had she misread him all these years? Did he not think of Mindy as their daughter? Virginia could not believe what was happening, but she let Jonathan silence her sobs and try to calm her troubled thoughts. The morning seemed to be much too far away to wait. She wanted to talk about it now.

“Let’s go to bed,” said Jonathan, and his voice boded no argument. “We’ll get some sleep.” He led her back upstairs to their bedroom and carefully skirted their slumbering brood. Virginia had to cover her mouth to stifle another sob as she looked at Mindy’s face, deep in sleep.
Oh, Mindy
, her heart called out to the small figure under the blanket,
what are we going to do?

Jonathan turned to the bed and moved Virginia’s pillow back to its rightful side. She could not read his eyes, but his chin was jutted slightly as though his jaw was clenched.

Virginia started to make further comment, but he cut her off with a rather sharply whispered, “This is not the time of day to be dealing with this. Let’s leave it.”

He had never before refused to talk about any problems at night. They had always been able to discuss and plan and sort through what should be done in situations they faced. Virginia could only stare at him. He seemed so … so different than she was expecting. Was it possible that he really didn’t care about what happened to Mindy?
No
. She shook her head.
It must be something else. …

She mopped at her tearstained cheeks and moved to get her nightdress.

“I forgot to check the fire,” she murmured as she slipped her dress over her head.

“I’ll get it.”

Jonathan was gone for quite a while. Virginia was about to go check when he finally came back. He said nothing, just slipped into bed beside her. She did not stir or speak. Perhaps he thought she had already fallen asleep, for he did not lean across to kiss her good-night as he always did. She lay still with her eyes closed. She feared that if he did show his usual affection, she would begin to cry again. That would never do. They both had to get some rest.

Sleep would not come for Virginia. She lay in the dark? ness, staring up at a ceiling she could not see. There was no light from the moon to outline the room. The night appeared to be as dark as her own soul. Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed.

Jonathan, who usually slept the moment he laid his head on the pillow, also seemed restless. Tonight he tossed and turned from side to side. She heard him sigh and was tempted to speak, but she held her silence. They would talk about it in the morning, he’d said.

But what could they say? What good would any discussion do? Jenny was claiming her child. There was nothing they could do about it. But how could they live without Mindy? How could she live without
them
? Virginia buried her face in her pillow to muffle the sound of her weeping.

Virginia’s thoughts whirled—perhaps foolishly—with thoughts of Buttercup. Who would now shower love and attention on the horse? And Murphy? He waited at the end of the lane every afternoon for Mindy to come home from school and ran to meet her with joyous yips that the family was all back together again.

Virginia could not help the tears. Off and on throughout the long night she cried into her pillow. If only Jonathan were awake. If only he would talk—now. If only he would hold her and let her cry. She nearly reached for him, but she held back, uncertain about what he was feeling.

She tried to pray. Her prayers were little more than snatches of phrases, pleading for God to please, please intervene. She was far removed from the ability to say, “Thy will be done.” Far too distraught to even make much sense in her petitions.

At last she did manage to fall into a restless sleep. But she did not sleep for long. She wondered if Jonathan was managing to get some rest, then realized that his side of the bed was empty.

She glanced toward the window, but there was no hint of dawn. She propped herself up on her elbow, straining in the darkness to see the clock by the bed. She fumbled for a match, and flickering light responded to the strike against the side of the box. Virginia lifted the globe of the lamp and touched the match to the wick. A small flame grew until the room was washed in a soft light. The sleeping children did not even stir. The clock said it was three-twenty-five. Three-twenty-five, and Jonathan was not in bed beside her.

Virginia was stepping onto the rug by the bed when she heard Jonathan’s footsteps in the hallway. He looked surprised when he entered the room and saw the lamp lit.

“I was worried,” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”

“Just checking” was his noncommittal answer.

“On the fires?”

“The children. Go back to sleep.”

Virginia’s eyes went quickly to the little ones in various positions of sleep. They were all sleeping peacefully on their makeshift beds. Mindy’s arm was draped across Martha’s shoulders.

Jonathan climbed into bed again, and Virginia leaned over to blow out the lamp.

Jonathan reached for Virginia, drawing her close to him. But when she began to speak, he softly hushed her. It was clear that he did not think they should get involved in a discussion in the middle of the night. Virginia took comfort from his arms—his closeness. She laid her head against his shoulder, feeling as if she had cried all the tears from her body. She felt him kiss the top of her head as he snuggled her in against his side. “Sleep,” he whispered into her hair.

But Virginia could not sleep. Over and over in her mind she fought against the realization that Mindy was leaving them. Mindy. Their oldest daughter. The one whom they had loved—had patiently waited till she could love them in return. What would they ever do without her?

And then again the even more terrifying thought,
Whatever will Mindy do without us?
Mindy scarcely knew the woman who was her mother. Jenny was only a name—a prayer request. The girl knew nothing about Jenny’s outbursts and impatience. She knew nothing of Jenny’s friends—if indeed Jenny still had friends. She knew nothing about that faraway apartment in the downtown of that distant city. There would be no family members to welcome her home from school each day.
School?
What would Mindy do for school? She was a good student. Now she would go to a new school where she knew no one.

And church. Most certainly Jenny would not introduce Mindy to a church.

Virginia felt panic-stricken with the continuing realizations. Life would be a nightmare for the little girl.

And Jenny was ill. She would not be strong enough, aware enough, to care for the needs of a child.

Why, oh, why does Jenny want Mindy now?
Virginia’s silent cry nearly tore her apart.
After all the years of ignoring her—why come for her now?

And then the truth hit her. Jenny was dying. She was lonely—scared. Needing someone. And so she returned to see if that little girl from so long ago could fill in those empty places inside. But why Mindy? Why didn’t she get a nurse? A companion? Why drag a child into such a situation? It was unthinkable. Totally unthinkable. Virginia had always known that Jenny was selfish. Self-centered. But this was too much. Just too much.

Virginia could bear the sleepless waiting no longer. She slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs, padding into the living room to stare down at the smoldering logs on the grate. They gave out little warmth and the room was chilly. She reached for the poker and stirred the logs. A brighter flame began to dance around the blackened chunks of wood, and she stirred a little more, then knelt down and blew on the flame. It fanned into life, and she threw on a few smaller pieces, then tried to block out all thought while she watched the flames build.

It would take the new flames some time to reheat the room, and she crossed to the couch to pick up an afghan. Wrapping the blanket closely about her shoulders she lowered herself to the nearby rug in front of the fireplace and tried to get her mind and emotions under control so she could concentrate. There had to be a way to solve this. There just had to.

Jenny could stay on with them. The idea hit her with a force both shocking and full of hope. That way she would be with Mindy as well as have people to care for her.

Even as she entertained the new plan, Virginia remembered how much the noise and activity of the younger children bothered Jenny. And Jenny’s need for cigarettes—that would be an ongoing problem. Maybe she—and Jonathan—could consent to her smoking in her room.
Her room
—that was the children’s room. They couldn’t go very long with all the little ones sleeping on the floor of their bedroom.

“Lord, what should we do?” she prayed, her voice barely above a whisper. She did manage to have some coherent thoughts—thoughts she hoped would express her feelings to her loving God, her Father, who certainly understood her grief and turmoil. And she prayed for Mindy—for wisdom and the right words to tell her about this. She prayed for their other children, who would be losing a dearly loved big sister.

She prayed for Jenny—that as she faced death she would turn to the Savior. All of the anguish of her soul was poured out into her prayer. She felt spent. Entirely exhausted. And in spite of the briskly burning fire and the afghan, she still felt chilled.

She sat in her huddle listening to the ticking of the kitchen clock. Each tick-tock meant one less second of having Mindy. One less second. Oh, if only she could hold her. Whisper to her words of love. But she would not waken the child to meet her own needs.

She had to toss more logs on the fire to keep it blazing. At long last she heard soft steps on the stairs. Was he up because it was time—or because he, too, could not sleep?

Jonathan stood in the doorway and looked at her, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair. “Did you get any rest?” he asked at last.

“Some.”

He moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the stove going and put on the kettle,” he said. “I think we could both use some coffee.”

He sounded so … so much the same … and yet so different. Her whole world seemed different. She wasn’t sure how to function anymore, how to relate to him. …

She still did not stir. Wrapped in her afghan cocoon, trying to bury herself away from reality for as long as she could. The children would soon be waking. Then, whether she liked it or not, she would need to return to the world. She was a mother. A caregiver. Her own pain would need to be laid aside.

She leaned her head forward on her knees and shut her eyes. But even then the scene would not go away. A house—their house—without Mindy. An empty chair at the table. A long, vacant lane with no little girl, braids swinging, coming home from school, book bag and red lunch pail at her side, Murphy dancing around in front of her.

You should be thankful for the years you’ve had her
, a little voice somewhere deep inside seemed to say, but Virginia was not ready to accept that. It was unfair to be family, and then to be torn apart. It was totally unfair.

What about Jenny? Jenny had no one. Jenny was suffering, was facing the hereafter, without God. Wasn’t it selfish to want to withhold her child? Virginia had so much. So many on whom to lean. So many little arms to slip around her neck in warm hugs. So many little faces to give her wet kisses. Was she being selfish?