The Shadow Portrait (31 page)

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Jolie sighed. “You think I should go to her and tell her about the dream?”

“Yes.” Camrose’s voice was firm. “Tell her you think it was from the Lord if you do. I know she doesn’t believe in God yet, but she needs to be around people who do believe in God. She needs to see faith in someone. But she won’t listen to me, so if she would let you help her, you could bear witness to the power of Jesus Christ like no one else.”

“I feel terrible. I don’t love her as I should.”

“If you go to help her, that’s love.”

“Even if I don’t feel anything?”

“I think so. We can’t control our feelings, Jolie, but we can control what we do. Jesus said if you give a cup of cold water in His name, you won’t lose your reward. It doesn’t say you have to feel all thrilled or excited about it. It just says offer the water. It sounds to me like God has called you to His service just as much as He’s called me and Mary Ann to Africa.”

Surprise washed across Jolie’s face. “Is it really like that, you think?”

“Take one step. Go to Avis. Tell her what you’ve told me and offer to help take care of her. See what she says. If she throws you out, then you’ve done what God has told you to do. But if she doesn’t, you may have an opportunity to touch her spirit, or even to touch her soul.”

The two talked for some time, and finally Jolie left. When she arrived at Avis’s home, she stood there uncertainly for a while, then went up and knocked on the door.

Mrs. Taylor opened the door. “Yes, what is it?”

“I’d like to see Mrs. Warwick.”

For a moment Jolie thought that the woman would refuse her. She was becoming more and more difficult, but then
Mrs. Taylor sniffed, “You might as well come in.” When the housekeeper closed the door, she said, “She’s being very uncooperative today. I’ve given my notice. I can’t put up with her any longer.”

“You’re leaving?” Jolie asked in surprise. She stared at the woman and saw the hard set of her features.

“Yes! I’ve stood all of it I’m going to! Go ahead in. She’s in the library.”

Jolie found Avis sitting in front of a window staring out. Hearing Jolie, she turned but said nothing.

“Are you busy, Avis?”

“What would I be busy about?” Avis asked. Discontentment marked her face. There was none of the happiness nor enthusiasm that had been in her earlier. Her voice was clipped and short, and her fingernails were bitten off.

“I’d like to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“Well, it’s going to take a while. Would it be all right if I sat down?”

“Suit yourself.”

Taking this as an invitation, grudgingly given as it was, Jolie moved over and sat down, drawing a chair slightly closer to where Avis sat staring at her stolidly. “I understand Mrs. Taylor’s leaving.”

“Good riddance, the old bat! Can’t stand the sight of her! Her face could curdle milk!”

Though she didn’t know exactly how to respond to such a mean attack, Jolie saw the situation as an opportunity. “You’ll have to get someone else.”

“Whoever I get won’t be any better!”

“I’m going to tell you what’s been happening to me.” Jolie quickly related what she had been feeling. She kept her eyes fixed on Avis’s face and saw a mixture of disbelief and contempt. She ended by saying, “So, I think God is telling me to come and help you as long as you need help, Avis.”

“God’s telling you that! You heard His voice? It came down out of heaven, did it?”

“You know it doesn’t happen like that,” Jolie protested. “It’s just something that came to me almost like a dream.”

“And you think that’s God.”

“I think it is. I certainly wouldn’t do it for any other reason.”

Jolie’s reply amused Avis, and she allowed herself to smile bitterly. “I didn’t think you were so crazy about me that you came rushing over because you wanted to spend a lot of time in my company.”

“We haven’t been friends.”

“No. You’ve hated me ever since I stole Peter away from you, haven’t you?”

A rich color suddenly tinted Jolie’s cheeks. “Yes, I have been jealous of you. I think a lot of Peter, and I . . . and I think you were bad for him. You probably already know that.”

“Of course I know that! You think I’m a fool? You wanted to wring my neck!”

“Yes, I did,” Jolie said suddenly. She sat up straighter and said, “I would have, too, but I didn’t want to hang for it.”

Abruptly Avis laughed aloud. “Well, that’s honest enough. Even if you are a Christian, you’re not a mealy-mouthed one.” She stared at the young woman curiously. “We’d never get along,” she said finally. “You’d strangle me in a week!”

Though the words were negative, Jolie heard a subtle plea running beneath the simple meaning of the words. She also saw something in the expression of the woman who sat there paralyzed and helpless. Underneath the hardness was a cry for help. For the first time a real compassion came to Jolie, and she knew she had done the right thing. “You may want to strangle me,” she said, “but I can last as long as you can. Do you want me to come?”

Avis cleared her throat and looked down for a moment. She did not speak for quite a while, then she suddenly cleared her throat and spoke. “Well, you’ll be better than that old
battle-ax who’s been here. You’ll have to quit your job. I’ll pay you whatever they’re paying you, plus a bonus, if you work out.”

“All right. When is Mrs. Taylor leaving?”

“Send her in. I’ll give her her walking papers right now. That will be one of my few pleasures since I got into that car.”

“She might be a very unhappy woman. Why don’t you try being a little bit more gentle?”

“You’re out to reform me? Don’t waste your time, Jolie!”

Jolie shook her head. “I don’t know anything about her, but anybody as sour as she is, is bound to be unhappy. Why don’t you just try being nice and see what happens?”

“All right, I will!”

Jolie got a lesson from that, for when Avis gave Mrs. Taylor her leave to go, Avis received an angry dressing down from the dour housekeeper. As soon as the older woman left, Avis laughed. “There, I turned the other cheek and she nearly knocked it off!”

“That’s her problem,” Jolie said bluntly. “You did the right thing, and God will always reward that.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

For a moment Jolie knew that Avis was struggling with something, and she felt, perhaps, it was time to say something about her faith, but then she knew it was too soon. Something inside told her to be quiet, wait, and demonstrate her faith in God by her actions, so she just said, “I hope you like my cooking.” Then she got up to leave, saying, “I’ll go and get my things and move in right away.”

After Jolie left, Avis sat there staring at the door. She did not move, but suddenly her lips trembled. Nervously she passed a hand across her face and pressed her lips against her fists. Her shoulders shook slightly, and then she shut her eyes and silently wept.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I’m Not Doing It for You”

Jolie remembered more than once Avis’s words before she ever allowed Jolie to come to the house:
“You’d strangle me in a week!”
Now as she entered the house carrying a bag full of groceries, she dreaded facing the day. Avis had been fully as demanding and ill-tempered as Jolie had feared. Perhaps she always had been demanding, but now her illness made her even more so. As the days had gone by, it had been a monumental struggle for Jolie to bite off the bitter replies that often came when Avis screamed at her. Even as she contemplated these difficulties, she heard Avis calling, “Jolie—Jolie!” from her bedroom. “Where are you? Come in here!”

Putting the groceries down on the hall table, Jolie ran down the hall, opened the door, and found Avis sitting on the edge of her bed. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone two hours!”

“No I haven’t. I’ve just been gone thirty minutes. Here, let me help you.”

She moved over and began helping Avis dress for the day. From the beginning, Avis had laid down the rule that she would not lie around in a nightgown and a robe. Jolie had had no idea how difficult it would be to dress a full-grown woman whose lower limbs were helpless. She struggled, and once when she did not move fast enough, Avis screamed at her and reached out and struck her shoulder. “Be careful! Why don’t you hurry up? You’re so clumsy!”

“I’m sorry, Avis.”

She wondered bitterly how many times she’d had to say,
“I’m sorry, Avis.” Once the difficult dressing was accomplished and she had helped Avis into her chair, she pushed a lock of hair back off of her brow and said, “I’ll get breakfast as quickly as I can.”

“Push me into the library.”

“All right.”

Avis was perfectly able to propel herself into the library, and Jolie knew she was doing it just to be spiteful. Nevertheless, she obeyed without question. When she had made Avis comfortable in front of the window, Jolie said, “Would you like eggs this morning?”

“No, not regular eggs. I want eggs Benedict, and don’t boil the eggs too hard like you did last time.”

“All right. I’ll be more careful this time.”

Hurrying into the kitchen, Jolie quickly began preparing the breakfast. She was only halfway through when a knock came at the door, and she scurried to open it. “Why, Peter,” she said, “you’re early.”

“Too early?” he asked. He came almost every day, but he usually came much later than this. Now he took in the apron and said, “Let me help you cook breakfast.”

“You’ll have to if you want anything to eat. She’s in a bad mood today. You go in and try to cheer her up. Maybe I can do breakfast myself.”

Peter suddenly reached out and took Jolie’s arms and held her tightly. “Maybe I haven’t said thank you enough for what you’re doing for Avis, Jolie. And I want to thank you for myself.”

Jolie looked up, acutely conscious of Peter’s grasp on her arms. “I’m not doing it for you,” she said quietly. “I’m doing it because God has told me to—and I wish He hadn’t.”

Peter held on for a moment, then said slowly, “You know, I keep trying to see that scrawny little girl I first saw in that boxcar. I wonder where she’s gone to now? All I see now is a young woman who’s stronger than any woman I’ve ever met.”

His praise brought a flush to Jolie’s cheeks. “Go on in,” she said. “She’s waiting for you.”

“All right. We’ll talk later.” He moved out into the hall, picked up a sack he had brought earlier, then went into the library. “Hello, Avis,” he said.

“Hello. Did you come for breakfast?”

“Thought I might eat a bite. Maybe I’d better go out and help Jolie.”

“She can do it. What do you have in the bag?”

“I brought you a new book to read.”

He handed her the sack, and she lifted out a book and stared at it, then read the title.
In His Steps.
She looked at him and asked, “Have you read it?”

“Yes. It’s a wonderful book. It came out a few years ago.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s by a man named Charles Sheldon. He tells the story of a group of Christians who decide not to do anything or make any decision without first asking, ‘What would Jesus do?’ ”

“That sounds terribly boring,” Avis replied.

“It’s really very good. Especially when some of them get involved with tent meetings in the bad part of town.”

Avis frowned. “Well, I don’t think it sounds like something I want to read.”

Peter smiled and said, “If you won’t read it yourself, maybe I’ll read this one to you.”

Avis laughed. “All right. I’ll read it, just not right now. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

Peter at once launched into a description of what was happening in the world of automobiles. “Well, Henry Ford is going to be the richest man in America. He’s come out with this Model T, and it’ll outproduce everything. It’s selling for eight hundred and fifty dollars. Everybody’s calling it a fliver. I went downtown to see one. It’s got a wooden body on a steel frame, and you can have any color you want—as long as you want black.”

“How boring! Black!”

“The real news is that Wilbur Wright had a crash. Killed a man named Lieutenant Thomas Selfridge. First man ever killed flying an airplane, but he probably won’t be the last. The Wright brothers are going to get a government contract for carrying the mail. They’ll probably do it, too. They flew that contraption of theirs for sixty minutes and reached a speed of forty miles an hour.”

Peter talked about the news until Jolie came to say, “Breakfast is ready,” and then he stepped over to wheel Avis into the dining room. He put her at the head of the table and waited. “Aren’t you going to join us, Jolie?”

“No, you go ahead.”

Peter stared at her, then said no more and sat down. After Jolie had brought the food, she left abruptly. “What’s wrong with Jolie?”

“I didn’t know anything was,” Avis said coolly. “She’s gotten these eggs too hard again.”

“Mine are just right. You want to swap?” he offered.

“No. I’m not hungry anyway.”

Peter ate slowly and became rather pensive. Noticing this, Avis said, “What’s the matter? You’re depressed.”

“No I’m not. I’m just thinking.” For the last several days, Peter had been doing some serious thinking about the direction of his life. He had wanted to be a racing driver, but with Avis seriously injured from the accident and the
Jolie Blonde
demolished, everything looked bleak. But he was reluctant to share any of this with Avis and avoided answering her questions. Finally, after breakfast, he said, “I’ll wash up for Jolie.”

“Let her do it. She’s paid for it.”

“I’d really rather help her. You want me to take you back to the library? Maybe we can play some chess later.”

“I hate that game,” Avis snapped. “But go ahead and take me to the library. I’ll stare out the window as usual.”

Peter pushed the chair into the library, then headed into the kitchen. He found Jolie washing the dishes and said, “I’ll help.”

“No need to,” Jolie said without turning from the sink.

Jolie’s voice was cool, and Peter, for some reason, felt she was upset.

“I know she’s hard to get along with, but I’d be worse if I were in her shape.”