Like Gold Refined (3 page)

“How were your grandparents?”

Jonathan asked the question casually when Virginia entered her own kitchen. She wasn’t sure how to answer—or even if she could answer. She had battled with the question herself all the way home. How were they? Really? Was there need for concern? She had gone to visit them today to prove to herself that her mother was wrong. That they were just fine. That they would still be fine for many years of living on their own. Her mother’s nursing background made her simply too protective.

But she’d had to ask herself if her mother was right. Were they in danger if they continued on their own?

Virginia certainly did not wish to endanger them any more than her mother, but her whole being rebelled against the idea that her grandparents were so old and feeble as to no longer be able to care for themselves. It was just too difficult to accept. To admit that would mean having to face the truth that the day might come when she would need to relinquish them. Virginia could not even think about a world without one or the other of her grandparents. It was too painful. Too frightening. They had been her rock, her mooring. She needed them.

Now she thought carefully before answering Jonathan’s question.

“ They were pleased about the fresh jam,” she said evasively. “Good.”

“The children are still sleeping?”

“Not a peep.” Jonathan gave a little wave of his hand toward small Martha, who insisted upon holding a rein to the bridle that he worked on as her share of the task. “Except this one. Not a quiet minute from this one. She chatters nonstop.” He grinned.

“I’m helping Papa,” said Martha seriously. “I keep the weins from hanging on the floor.”

“Reins,” corrected Jonathan good-naturedly.

“Reins,” echoed Martha with great concentration. Martha often had trouble with the sound of
r
, transposing it to the twenty-third letter of the alphabet.

“That’s nice you’ve helped Papa.” Virginia placed the now empty basket that had transported the strawberry jam on the nearby cupboard. She winced as she looked at her kitchen table, spread with bridles, reins, and the oil that Jonathan was using to thoroughly work the leather. She was glad for lye soap and hot water.

“Papa says I’m a good helper,” Martha said, clearly wanting further recognition for a job well done.

“I’m sure you are,” smiled Virginia as she looked at the small figure proudly holding the leather thong. Jonathan reached out a hand and tousled the hair of the child. Virginia winced again, hoping that his hand had not transferred oil to her head.
Treasure the moments
, her heart whispered.
If you don’t learn to treasure the moments, you’ll never be able to treasure the memories
. Her lesson of the day from her grandparents. Her aging grandparents.

A tear threatened to form, but Virginia determinedly blinked it back. Her grandparents may indeed be getting old. True. But they still knew much about life. They still could teach, could exemplify lifelong values, and seemed to manage to do so with every breath they took. Virginia could not resist the urge to fight against the inevitable. Someday … someday they would have to face losing them. But not yet. Surely not yet. They needed them … so much. They all really needed them.

“Mindy has her eye on that young sorrel mare.”

“Mindy has her eye on each and every horse in the pasture,” replied Virginia, removing her apron and tossing it on the chair by the bed. She was tired. It had been another long day of many tasks. Her bed looked most inviting. She could hardly wait to lay her head on the pillow.

“No,” said Jonathan. “This is different. She really loves this horse.”

“Yes?” prompted Virginia, wondering where this conversation was leading.

“I’ve talked to Slate. He’s the one who’s worked with the little filly most. He says he thinks she will make a good horse.”

“ They all make good horses,” replied Virginia, slipping out of her shoes.

Jonathan’s back was to her as he removed his soiled work shirt and tossed it in a corner. “Slate says this one has a very gentle disposition. Tries her best to please.”

Virginia straightened from removing her stockings and looked toward her husband. “Are you saying that you are thinking of giving the filly to the child?”

Jonathan turned toward her. “Thinking of it.”

“She’s awfully young for her own horse.”

“Now, Virginia. You know Mindy’s been around horses ever since … ” He stopped. Virginia wondered if Jonathan, on one of the rare occasions of remembering, was recalling that Mindy had not always been theirs. That she had come to them through circumstances that at the time had brought pain. Jenny’s child. Jenny. Where was Jenny? And how was she? They had not heard from her for ages.

“She can handle a horse very well,” Jonathan went on.

“She’s only ridden the well-broken horses,” Virginia reminded him.

He swung fully to meet her, his eyes reaching out to lock with her own. “And this one will be well broken before she is given over. You can count on that. I’d never put a child on a horse that might spook.”

Virginia knew that to be true. Jonathan might love his horses, but he loved his children even more. He would never jeopardize their safety.

“I know,” she nodded. “I’m sorry if I sounded … anxious.”

He smiled. “I knew it was the mother speaking.”

They finished their preparations for retiring in silence, then knelt for their prayer time together. It wasn’t until they were tucked between the cool sheets that Jonathan spoke again. “Mindy has another birthday coming up soon. I thought the little mare might make a nice birthday gift.”

So that’s where this is going
, thought Virginia, but she made no comment.

“Slate says he can have her ready by then. She’s coming along real nice. Be fun to see our daughter’s eyes.”

Yes, it would be fun to see Mindy’s eyes
, Virginia agreed silently. The girl would be so thrilled. She loved the horses. But a child of nine? Was she ready? They were not speaking of old, plodding farm animals. They were talking of a high-spirited horse.

When Virginia did not speak, Jonathan asked, “Is it okay with you? Are you comfortable with that?”

In the darkness Virginia’s eyes narrowed. She was not sure. If Mindy had her own horse, she would feel much more inclined to ride. Everywhere. At every opportunity. They would lose a bit of their control of her life. Were they ready for that? Was she responsible enough to be trusted with such liberty?

Even as she fought against it, Virginia knew she must let go. She could not always keep her children tethered to her apron strings. Little by little she had to learn to release them. A wave of fear, followed by resignation, swept through her body, but she said quietly, “If you are sure.”

Jonathan sounded pleased as he answered with one word, “Good.” He turned to kiss her good-night, then lay back on his pillow with a contented sigh. “You know,” he said with satisfaction filling his voice, “they are really growing up—our little ones. Before we know it, they’ll be off on their own.”

That was hardly the thing to say to Virginia in her present state of mind. Her grandparents. Now her children. …

CHAPTER 3

V
irginia decided to make the most of the upcoming birthday celebration and invited all the grandparents and as many of her family members as could accept the invitation to the dinner party. The birthday was to be celebrated on a Saturday after? noon, which didn’t seem to make much difference to Mindy. They weren’t sure of the exact birth date anyway.

I wish Jenny would contact us
, Virginia found herself fretting as she basted the turkey and returned it to the oven.
It isn’t right that this child is growing up not even knowing her own birth date
.

But Jenny had not been in touch. Not for years. Virginia alternately felt concern, anger, fear. Was Jenny okay? Or was she just too busy with life—whatever it was that her life held now?
Maybe she has married again
, thought Virginia. That would not be unthinkable. In spite of her faded condition and her loss of bloom, Jenny was still an attractive woman in her own way. Perhaps with her errant husband gone, Jenny had even managed to recover some of the old vitality.

But Virginia did not have long to dwell upon her troubling thoughts. There was much to be done before the birthday guests began to arrive.

“Mindy, could you set the tables, dear?” she asked the girl who came bouncing into the room, then quickly added, “I know it’s your party and I hate to make you help, but I’m afraid—”

“I don’t mind,” enthused Mindy, too excited about the coming celebration to mind much of anything.

Virginia was relieved for the extra pair of hands. Once the tables had been set, Mindy asked for the next task that she might do. Soon they were working side by side.
My, she is growing up
, thought Virginia as she watched her oldest.
I hadn’t even realized how much I depend upon her help
.

When the first motor was heard coming down the lane, a loud cheer went up from the excited children. Mindy and Martha both ran to the door, and Olivia, who always watched them closely to learn how she should respond to each event in her world, took her cue from their actions and began to clap her hands and cheer along with them, trailing along behind as fast as her little legs could carry her.

“It’s Grandpa Woods!” shouted Mindy back over her shoulder.

“Gwampa Woods,” echoed Olivia, turning to wave an excited hand at Virginia.

“Bring him in,” advised Virginia, busy mashing the potatoes in her largest cooking pot.

Before the children could even usher in Jenny’s father, another car was pulling into the driveway with Virginia’s parents, along with her grandparents in the backseat.

“Look!” Virginia heard Martha shout. “The other grandpas and grandmas.”

It sounded like joyful bedlam in the yard outside. Virginia pushed back the potato pot, wiped her hands on her apron, and went out to greet the family members. Mindy was busy accepting birthday hugs along with congratulations, and Martha was getting hugs just because, and Olivia, who would not as yet stand still for hugs, was jumping up and down, then twirling round and round in her effort to express her excitement. And in the middle of it all was a tail-wagging Murphy, apparently as pleased as his small owners to be honored by so many guests all at one time. He bounced around the cluster of people, swiping a moist tongue at any hand that for a moment was exposed to his generous welcome, tail whipping back and forth, ears flipping with each muffled whine that came from his throat.

Virginia pushed him aside so she might receive and give a few hugs of her own. “Come in. Come in,” she managed to say over the din. The clump of merry humanity moved toward the wide porch, and Murphy fell back, his tail still wagging but his eyes saying he was terribly disappointed that they had decided to take the party inside.

Before following her guests, Virginia turned toward the barn. She was about to request that Mindy run on down to call Jonathan and Slate when she saw the two moving quickly toward the house. Virginia stopped and waited for them. When they were near enough, she called softly, “I was about to send Mindy to tell you the folks have arrived.”

Jonathan laughed. “I expect the folks in the next county will know that fact,” he called back. “Never heard such a commotion.”

Slate was grinning.

“Clara’s aren’t here yet,” Virginia went on unnecessarily. If she would have stopped to think about it, she would have realized that Jonathan would be well aware of who was there and who wasn’t. He knew the sound of every motorcar in the area.

“Nor Francine. I’m not sure whether she will be here or not. She wasn’t too definite. She said Dalton may have other plans for the day.”

Jonathan just nodded. Virginia often was impatient with her younger sister, Francine, and her steady beau, Dalton Chambers. She knew now was not the time to discuss the merits of this relationship.

They had hardly entered the house when they heard another vehicle pull into the driveway. Virginia cast a glance out the kitchen window expecting to see her older sister, Clara, and her little family, but she saw that it was Francine and Dalton instead.
So they did come
, she said to herself.
Guess Dalton must have run out of things to do
.

Quickly she chastised herself. That was not fair—nor was it charitable. Nor would it enhance the atmosphere of Mindy’s party. She went to welcome her younger sister and her friend.

Dinner was waiting to be served and children were beginning to tire of the wait when Troy and Clara finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry to keep everyone waiting” were Clara’s first words. “We had—well, we had a bit of an accident.”

She may have dropped the subject right there, but everyone in the room was family and no one was willing to let it go without full details. It seemed that the boys had been playing ball and a window had been broken. Anthony, being the oldest, had assumed the responsibility of cleaning up the shards of glass and in the process had cut a finger. He had tried on his own to wrap the bleeding finger with a piece of cloth from his mother’s rag bag. Clara had discovered the boy cowering in his room when she trailed drops of blood that had appeared on her linoleum floor. The finger had required four stitches, and Uncle Luke had combined a doctor’s and an uncle’s sermonette as he stitched it up.

“It’s good to be brave,” he reportedly had told the young boy. “It’s good to take responsibility for mistakes we make. But sometimes it is not wise to try to handle it all yourself. Sometimes we need to tell our parents. Or our teacher. Or the minister. Someone … big. Someone who knows what should be done about the situation.” Clara finished the matter-of-fact recounting of the incident with her arm lightly around her son’s shoulders.

Anthony still looked a bit pale to Virginia’s thinking. She noticed that he carried the bandaged finger deep within his pants pocket. He seemed embarrassed by the whole episode.

They were soon seated around the ample tables enjoying the feast that Virginia had worked so hard to prepare. The children behaved admirably. Even baby James spooned in his mashed potatoes without getting too much on the floor. His hand was more help than his spoon, however, and Virginia knew that he’d need a good washing once the meal had ended. Thankfully he was in between cutting new teeth and was good-natured and enjoying all of the hubbub.

As the last piece of birthday cake was served with home? made ice cream, Jonathan managed to catch Virginia’s attention. “Do you want to clean up before Mindy gets her pres? ents?”

Virginia knew he was anxious to share his surprise. She shook her head in answer. “I guess we don’t need to make her wait,” she responded with a smile. She wondered if it was Mindy who would suffer—or Jonathan—if she decided to wait. He looked relieved.

As soon as the guests began to push back their chairs, Jonathan rose and held up a hand. “I think it’s time for the birthday girl to open her gifts.”

Mindy began to eagerly squirm on her seat.

“Let’s just clear a spot on the table in front of her,” Jonathan went on. Virginia had her lap full with the now sleepy James, and Francine jumped up to remove the dishes.

The parcels were then placed in front of Mindy. With a flushed face she looked toward Virginia for permission to begin. Virginia nodded. Martha crowded in close to Mindy’s elbow, as anxious to see what the packages contained as Mindy herself. Olivia pressed against the other side, her little face just barely able to peek over the tabletop to observe the proceedings. Virginia guessed she was standing on her tiptoes.

The first present was from Grandpa Clark and Grandma Marty. A new hand-knit sweater. Virginia’s eyes lifted to her mother’s face.
See
, she wanted to say,
she is still able to do things for herself
. Mindy “oohed” over the sweater and pronounced it her favorite color.

Francine’s gift was next. The package was very small, and Mindy’s hands fairly trembled in her excitement as she opened it. It was a cameo. Elegant and expensive looking. Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. Francine had been the one family member who never seemed to forget that Mindy was Jenny’s child. Virginia had often wondered if her sister had ever really accepted Mindy as a niece. But the cameo was beautiful. Virginia blinked back tears.

Mindy expressed her warm thanks, accompanied by an even warmer hug, and Francine’s eyes became a bit misty.

Mindy moved to open the gift from her grandfather Woods. It was a desk set. “If you’re going to learn to help your ole granddaddy with the newspaper business, you need to start getting some ink on your fingers,” he teased. Mindy beamed, then turned to another parcel.

Out of the corner of her eye, Virginia saw Jonathan shift on his chair. He was impatient for the girl to get to his sur? prise. But Mindy was taking her time, savoring each moment of unwrapping her birthday delights.

Martha was not always so patient and now and then reached out a helping hand to tear back some wrap to expose the gift more quickly. Mindy seemed to understand. “Hurry up,” Martha prompted on one occasion and was echoed by Olivia, “Hu’wy up.”

At last the final package was disclosed. On the table before Mindy were all the new treasures. Beside her on the kitchen floor were remains of the wrappings. A wide smile played across the young girl’s face. “ This is my best birthday ever,” she exclaimed.

“But wait,” said Jonathan, standing up, a pretend frown on his face. “There seems to be something missing.”

Mindy looked up in surprise, then back at her display of gifts again.
What could possibly be missing?
her eyes seemed to ask.

“I don’t see any gift from your ma and pa. Nor Slate. Slate—didn’t you get the birthday girl anything?”

Slate scratched his head. “Now … how could I have for? gotten that?” he replied, as though deeply perplexed.

But Mindy was taking the little charade seriously. “It’s all right, Papa,” she was quick to encourage him. “I don’t need anything more.” Her arms went out to encircle what she already had. “I’ve got lots of nice things.”

But Jonathan looked again to Slate. “Do you suppose we might be able to find her something?”

Slate stood up. “I’ll take a look around,” he said and reached for his hat. “Seems to me that I saw somethin’ down in the barn with her name on it.”

Jonathan’s grin nearly split his face. “Check it out,” he said with a nod toward the door.

Everyone in the room appeared to be enjoying the little game—except Mindy. She looked totally puzzled by it all.

Jonathan turned to her. “I think your mama would give you permission to change from your pretty birthday dress to one of your play outfits,” he prompted. “Why don’t you run do that?”

Mindy looked again to Virginia. Her mother nodded. Still with a puzzled look, Mindy went to change her attire.

“I smell a surprise coming,” Clark whispered loudly as soon as the girl had left the room.

Jonathan just kept smiling. “Let’s all move out to the porch. Slate should be back shortly.”

Even though the porch was roomy, the group filled it to overflowing. Chairs were placed for Clark and Marty at the front so they would miss nothing. Drew and Belinda helped them to make the short walk and be seated. Just as the milling crowd settled itself, the barn door opened and Slate moved out, two horses moving obediently behind him. Both animals were saddled and bridled, ready for riding. At his command they stopped and waited for him to reclose the door. Then he turned and mounted the black, picking up the reins to the sorrel. Virginia spotted the bright red ribbon that decorated the smaller horse’s mane. The saddle was also bedecked. In big black letters on bright white paper it declared,
Happy Birthday, Mindy!
In spite of her hesitation in agreeing to the plan, Virginia felt her heart pounding in anticipation of Mindy’s delight.

Mindy
would be so thrilled to have her own horse.

They did not need to wait for long. Slate just barely had time to position the horse beside the front porch, red ribbon and birthday greeting showing, when Mindy hurried out to join them on the porch, still frowning over her strange orders.

She was gently nudged forward. But it was Martha who could not wait. “Look, Mindy,” she squealed. “It’s a horse.”

Mindy stood transfixed, her eyes traveling over the entire length of the sorrel. She did not seem to be able to believe what she was seeing. “Do I get to ride her?” she finally man? aged to say.

Jonathan, whose arm had not left the small child’s shoulders, beamed down upon her. “As much as you like,” he said. “She’s all yours.”

“Mine?”

The girl still did not appear to understand.

“Yours.”

“My very own?”

“Your very own.”

“To keep?”

Jonathan began to laugh, a strange-sounding laugh. Virginia wondered if his throat was as tight as her own. He pulled the little girl close to his chest as he knelt down on the porch boards. “She is yours, Mindy. Yours. To keep. Always.”

The child threw her arms around her father’s neck and burst into tears. It was hardly what Jonathan or any or them had expected. He held her while an emotional family looked on, and Slate shuffled his feet and cleared his throat as he toyed with the leather reins.