Like Gold Refined (4 page)

At last Mindy lifted her tearstained face. Her chin was still wobbly, but she managed a smile. “You are the best papa in the whole wide world,” she said, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. It was almost too much for Jonathan. He pulled the little girl back into his arms and held her while he fought for composure. That was too much for Virginia. She buried her face against small James and wept silently. But no one was paying much mind. They were all too busy wiping their own tears.

“Well, now,” said Jonathan at last. “Are you gonna ride this here horse of yours—or just look at her?”

Mindy smiled her answer.

“Come, then. I’ll boost you up.”

From her place in the saddle, Mindy beamed at her gathered family. She was too happy even to speak.

“Now, the horse and bridle are from your mama and me, but the saddle—that’s from Slate,” said Jonathan as he passed her the reins.

Mindy turned her eyes to Slate. “Thank you, Slate. I like it—I love it.”

The young man looked pleased but also a bit embarrassed.

“You’re ready now?” asked Jonathan, giving the horse’s neck a pat. Virginia was relieved to see that the animal had stood quietly through all the commotion. It did appear that Jonathan had been right. Slate did have the animal ready for a young rider. Mindy gathered up the reins and urged the horse forward. She responded without question. Virginia felt further relief as Slate moved his mount beside the young girl. He would accompany her on the maiden excursion. Perhaps Virginia’s mother-heart could relax and she could start breathing again.

They stood and watched the two riders until they disappeared behind the trees of the lane; then one by one the group began to filter back into the house. There was still the cleaning up to be done. Virginia, who felt suddenly drained and tired, was glad for many helping hands.

“It was a good birthday, don’t you think?” Jonathan expressed when they were finally retiring for the night. Virginia could only nod her agreement. It had been a good birthday. Mindy was still too excited to settle down even as she was tucked into bed for the night. Virginia was thankful that the morrow was Sunday. That Mindy would not need to be awakened early to prepare for a day of school.

“Slate said she handled the horse like an expert.”

Virginia smiled. “She is your daughter. What did you expect?”

Jonathan chuckled, looking pleased with her comment.

“And the horse responded to every command she gave,” Jonathan went on.

“Slate does a good job.”

“Slate does an excellent job. Boy, did we luck out when we got that boy.”

Virginia smiled. “I was just thinking as I looked at him today. He’s not such a boy anymore, Jonathan. He’s grown up. Right before our eyes … he’s grown up.”

Jonathan seemed stilled by the thought. “Reckon you’re right,” he said at length.

“Won’t be long until he’ll be wanting a place of his own. What will we do then?”

His hand stopped on the way to removing a sock. “Don’t rightly know,” he said a last. “I’ve never thought on it, I guess.”

“Well, seems to me that we’re going to have to think about it one of these days,” responded Virginia. “It’s going to come all too soon.”

The observation put them both in a pensive mood as they continued to prepare for bed. Another looming change.

“Mama … I can’t sleep.”

Virginia managed to open her eyes. Mindy stood by her bed, one hand clutching a well-worn rag doll. It had been some time since the little girl had brought the doll to the bedside.

“What is it?” asked Virginia sleepily. The room was lit by a full moon that cast soft yellowy light upon the child’s features. Virginia saw the girl’s chin tremble.

“Are you sick?” asked Virginia, a hand going out to feel the child’s cheek.

“No,” replied a trembling voice.

“What’s the matter?”

“Can … can you get up so we won’t bother Papa?”

Virginia threw back the blankets. “Of course.”

With one arm about the little girl’s shoulders, she ushered her from the room. “Can we go downstairs?” Mindy was asking as Virginia gently eased the door closed behind them.

Virginia felt panic. Something was wrong. Mindy had never made such strange requests. “Let me light a lamp,” she responded. “It’s too dark on the steps.”

She retrieved a lamp from the girls’ room and watched as the small flame grew into a light that would guide their way. All the way down the stairs her mind kept wrestling.
What is wrong with the child? Why this strange request in the middle of the night?

When they reached the living room she put the lamp on a small table and pulled the little girl to her side. She eased them both onto the couch and hugged the trembling child close, one hand fingering the hair of the head that rested just beneath her chin. “What is it, honey? What’s troubling you?”

Then a sudden thought buzzed through Virginia’s mind. “Is it your new horse?”

“Sort of “ came a shaky whisper.

Virginia was silent. Why was the gift troubling Mindy? She had always loved animals.

“Don’t you like her?”

“I love her.” The little girl was crying. Softly. Up against her mother’s breast.

Silence again.

“Is there another horse you like better?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

It took Mindy a while to gather enough control to answer. “I need to pray,” she finally managed.

“Pray?” The answer caught Virginia by surprise.

Mindy’s tears increased. Virginia felt the child’s head bob? bing up against her in her reply of yes.

When she could finally speak, the child pushed back and looked up into her mother’s face. “I asked God for a horse,” she disclosed. “A little while ago. But I didn’t get it. So I told God … I told Him that I didn’t believe that He really … is. That I didn’t believe He could do good things … that I didn’t believe His Book. That the stories were all just … made up. I even told Him that … that I didn’t like Him. I told Him that I didn’t want to be His girl.” The last came out in a rush of tears and the weeping of a broken heart.

Virginia held her close for a long time. Her own thoughts were busy. What if she had insisted that Mindy was not ready for the horse? What if?

“And now?” Virginia prompted when Mindy seemed to have control again.

“I do want to be His girl, Mama. Honest. So now I need to say I’m sorry,” the child sobbed.

“Yes … yes I think you do. We all—at one time or another—need to tell God we’re sorry. When we doubt Him. When we realize we haven’t believed that He is really who He says He is. When we refuse to accept His Word. I had to ask God to forgive me, too.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“When you were a little girl?”

“I was older than you. I thought that I knew better than God how my life should be lived. I thought I knew better than my folks, too. But then I realized God was right. That my own way was wrong. Selfish. Willful. I had to admit to God that I was disobedient. Disobedience—doubt—that’s what we call sin. I had to ask God to forgive me.”

“Did He? Did He forgive you?”

“Oh, yes. He did. Just like He says in His Word. He always forgives the repentant heart. He always hears us when we say we’re sorry.”

“Can we pray? Now?”

Virginia kissed her child and hugged her closer. “We can. And we will … but first … first I think that I’d like to go get your father. I think this is one prayer he wouldn’t want to miss.”

CHAPTER 4

V
irginia didn’t think the name Buttercup suited the horse at all and wondered where Mindy had ever gotten the idea that a yellow flower was fitting for a sorrel, but no one pro? tested. Olivia had a difficult time with the name, and after her childish tongue tripped over it several times, she settled on Bubba. Virginia smiled, and Mindy, after attempting a few corrections, good-naturedly accepted Bubba as the pet name for her beloved mount.

Over the days and weeks that followed, Virginia detected subtle changes in their oldest. She wasn’t sure if they came simply from the birthday and another year of age, the horse, or the fact that Mindy had prayed her prayer of forgiveness and now was consciously thinking about her relationship with God. It both sobered and thrilled Virginia. Their little girl was growing up. She was now accepting responsibility in a new way. She was more patient with the younger ones. She appeared cheerful, settled, and content in some unexplainable way. A real joy to have in the household.

Mindy loved her Buttercup and rode and groomed her whenever she had opportunity. After the first few heart? wrenching times of solo ventures, Virginia was able to relax. Mindy did not go far and rode with good judgment—not pressing her horse to do anything like jumping fallen logs or wading swollen streams. Jonathan or Slate went with her whenever it was possible, tucking either Martha or Olivia into their arms on the front of the saddle.

But Mindy’s captivation with her new horse did not interfere with her household chores. Virginia did not need to prod or scold with directives to do the chores first. She was thank? ful for this additional signal of Mindy’s growing maturity and right choices.

“You know,” said Mindy one night as they worked together doing up the supper dishes, “Buttercup is one of the best things to happen to me. I think—” she paused a moment—“about sixth best.”

“Really?” said Virginia, wondering how Buttercup had man? aged to come in that low in her priorities.

“I was thinking about it last night after I went to bed,” Mindy explained. “It’s kinda hard to sort it all out but … I think I got my list figured out now.”

“You have a list?”

Mindy nodded. “ The very best thing is asking God to forgive me and letting Jesus into my life.”

Virginia wiped her hands on her apron so she could give her daughter a hug and a whispered “I’m so glad, dear.”

“ The next best is being born—because if I wasn’t even born … ” She shrugged as if that should be self-explanatory. Virginia smiled. “The next is coming to live with you and Papa. ’Cause if I didn’t come here—” She broke off, then finished lamely, “I was sad before.”

“You remember?” Virginia was surprised. Mindy had never spoken of her life before she came to live with them as a tiny little girl of three.

Mindy shook her head. “Not much … I just know I was sad. I’m not sad anymore.”

This time Virginia disregarded her dishwater wet hands and reached out again to draw Mindy close. She kissed the top of her head. “Oh, Mindy,” she said, her voice choked.

But Mindy was anxious to continue her list. “Then … ” she said, and Virginia released her. “Then … I’m happy for Martha and Olivia and Jamie. And Murphy.” She giggled. “All that counts as four.”

Virginia nodded.

“Then—number five—I’m happy that Slate came here.”

“Slate? I’m happy Slate came, too.”

“And then Buttercup.” She seemed so pleased to have made it through her carefully ordered list and looked to Virginia for her approval.

“ That’s a good list,” smiled Virginia, and Mindy nodded.

The small figure reached for another dinner plate and began the drying process, but her mind seemed distracted as the towel went round and round, drying the same spot over and over. Virginia thought she must still be contemplating her list and was totally unprepared when the little girl looked up and asked, “Did my other mama love me?”

Virginia felt the air leave her lungs. What in the world could she say to that? She could not—would not—lie to the child. They had never lied to Mindy. She had grown up knowing that she had another set of parents. They were never referred to as the “real” mother and father but always the “other” mother and father. It had been explained that her father had been killed in a car accident, that her mother was living in another city, very sad over the loss, even though her father was married to another woman at the time of his death. Jonathan maintained that the child had a right to know her parentage, and Virginia agreed. The facts, after once presented, were never discussed unless Mindy brought them up; then her few questions were answered in a matter-of-fact, nonevasive manner. But this? This had never come up before.

Mindy must have read the doubts and confusion in Virginia’s eyes. She shrugged those little shoulders again and attacked the plate more vigorously with the dish towel. “I know my other papa didn’t,” she said, and her voice was a bit too firm. Too forced.

“Why do you say that?” Virginia stood looking down at her child, wild thoughts racing through her head. She wished that Jonathan were with her.

Mindy looked up with solemn, honest eyes. “He never held me or touched me … or anything. Not like my real papa.” There, she had said the word. But it was to Jonathan she assigned the title “real.”

“I don’t think my mama loved me, either. Did she?”

Virginia’s mind scrambled for satisfactory words. Honest words. What could she say? Would it destroy Mindy’s newly awakened faith?

“Let’s sit down … and talk,” she began, her words faltering, her hand on Mindy’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” said Mindy. “We can finish the dishes.”

So she is determined not to make too big an issue over whether she was loved—or not
. Virginia felt like crying. She would have been much more comfortable sitting down, Mindy drawn close into her arms as she sought for words that might explain Jenny’s situation to a little girl.
Oh, I wish Mama were here
, she found herself thinking.
Or Grandma. They’d know what to say. How to say it.

Mindy placed the thoroughly dried plate on the stack and reached for another one.
Say something
, Virginia prompted her? self.
Don’t let her shut the door on this. It has to be dealt with now—while she’s open and honest
.

“Honey … ” she began and swallowed. “ There are lots of different kinds of love. Different ways to … to express it. Some people … some people find it difficult to show love to others because … well, because something has … happened in their life to make them … to hurt them in some way.

“Your mama was deeply hurt … when she was a little girl. Her … her mama left. Left her with her papa, your grandpa Woods. Grandpa Woods didn’t know about Jesus then. He was angry … and bitter … and he didn’t … wasn’t able to show much love to your mama. So your mama didn’t grow up learning … knowing much about how to love others.”

Mindy’s hand had ceased its circle of wiping the plate. She listened carefully, her eyes intent on Virginia’s face. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” asked Virginia softly. Mindy nodded. Then she spoke.

“You have to learn about love … from family.”

“Yes,” Virginia hurried to agree. “You learn about love. Or at least, you learn how to express love. How to be … loving. You need to learn that. And practice.”

Mindy nodded again.

“That doesn’t mean that you will always … always like what another person does … or says. But if you love them … then you are able to forgive them and … ”

“Like Martha,” Mindy said with a grin. “Sometimes she’s a real pest.”

Virginia smiled in spite of herself. But the smile quickly faded with Mindy’s next comment. The girl’s thoughts were back to Jenny again. “She didn’t love me … or she wouldn’t have given me away … to you and Papa.”

“She gave you away … ” Virginia quickly backtracked to restate the unwelcome phrase. “She let you come to live with us because … because she was afraid. She thought that … ” But it was hopeless. How could she explain to a child that her mother had abandoned her because her father had? “She didn’t know what else she could do,” Virginia finished lamely.

“And she didn’t know how to love,” Mindy said in almost a whisper. Virginia did not argue the statement.

“Was that why my other papa didn’t love me? Didn’t he know how to love, either?”

Virginia took a deep breath. “I know nothing about him.

I only know that your mama loved him very much.” The statement was meant to assure the young child, but it had the opposite effect.

“She loved him … but not me?”

Oh, dear, now I’ve got myself in a corner
, mourned Virginia silently.
How do I get out of this?

“Your mama … your mama met your papa at a time when she really needed someone … to love her. She’d had a very bad accident and needed special care. Your papa was the one who … who helped her get better. They learned to love each other … and got married. They … they had a good time … living together … having fun.”

How could she explain their life to a child? Their way of living and acting that she herself did not begin to understand? “They … they liked to have fun. Go to parties … and things,” she stumbled on.

“But they didn’t go to church.”

Virginia was surprised at the child’s perception. She was somehow separating the way her birth parents lived from a life of faith.

“No. No, they didn’t go to church.”

“Didn’t they know about God?”

“Your mama used to go to church … sometimes … with me, when we were growing up.”

“But she didn’t tell God she was sorry? Didn’t ask Him to forgive her sins?”

“No. No, she didn’t do that.”

“We need to pray for her,” said Mindy seriously, concern darkening her eyes.

“Yes,” replied Virginia, her eyes filling with tears as she drew Mindy up against her aproned front. “We need to pray. We need to continue to pray for your mama. I’ve been praying for … for years.”

“But we need to pray more than just, ‘God bless Mama Jenny,’ “ went on the girl who had been taught to remember her other mama in her evening prayers along with the rest of the family members on the list.

“Yes … we need to pray more than that.”

“Do you pray more than that?”

“I do.”

Mindy looked relieved. Virginia’s hand stroked the child’s hair, brushing it back from her forehead. She held her close, the plate pressing awkwardly against her hip bone. For a long moment Mindy snuggled close, then she pushed back.

“Mama,” she said, her eyes solemn but determined. “It doesn’t matter that Mama Jenny doesn’t love me. I love her anyway.”

Virginia nearly choked as she stifled her sob. She pressed the child more tightly to her. “I love her, too, honey,” she man? aged to say in spite of her tears. “I always have.”

Mindy seemed to put the conversation behind her, but her evening prayers from then on were filled with pleading to her God to remember her other mama and to help her to know that she had to say she was sorry for all of the wrong things she had done. Virginia’s heart ached for the child. Was it fair for such a heavy burden to fill such a young heart?

“Perhaps God will answer her prayer … more quickly than He has mine,” she said to Jonathan one evening as they retired.

Jonathan looked surprised at her statement. “God has not been ignoring your prayers,” he said quietly.

Virginia was quick to amend her comment. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just … just that I’ve been praying for Jenny for such a long, long time … and there has been so little happening.”

“How do you know what’s been happening? On the inside? You haven’t even heard from her … in years. Maybe God is doing terrific things in her life. Even now.”

Virginia nodded. “Oh, I pray so.”

But Virginia did not feel reassured.
If it’s not already too late
, she found herself thinking.
I don’t even know if Jenny is still alive
.

“I think I’ve found a woman to stay with the folks.” Belinda sounded excited as she welcomed Virginia and the children into her kitchen. Virginia responded with a quick smile, a flood of thankfulness washing over her.

“You did? How?” She knew her mother, in one last, des? perate effort to allow her parents the privilege of remaining in their own home, had been searching out someone who was willing to be a live-in.

“I put a notice in several papers. I finally got a response. It looks quite promising. Papa and I are taking the train into the city tomorrow to interview her.”

“That’s wonderful,” exclaimed Virginia. “I’m so glad they won’t have to move off the farm.”

“Now, don’t get your hopes too high—it isn’t finalized yet,” cautioned Belinda.

Virginia nodded, but she could not let go of the hope. “It’s an answer to prayer,” she said with confidence. “Even the children have been praying.”

“Children are wonderful little prayer warriors,” agreed Belinda. “I sometimes think they can understand the mind of God better than we cynical, practical adults.”

Virginia looked out the window to the backyard where Martha and Olivia were busy with pails and shovels in the sandbox that Drew had built for his grandchildren. Perhaps it was true. Children had such simple, complete faith.