To Love and Honor (10 page)

After meditating on the words,
start doing loving acts for that individual and soon love will come,
Violet concluded that she had been fretting needlessly about not loving her mother. Right now, she was doing what was necessary. She was providing a home for Linda in her dying hours and was making her as comfortable as possible. Each day she showed her love by prepar
ing her food, feeding her, reading to her and tucking her in at night. Perhaps as the weeks passed, the tender emotions that she coveted would come. She did hope that she would have the opportunity to ask her mother's forgiveness for the unkind thoughts which she had harbored all her life. But every time her conversation carried the least hint of the past, Linda changed the subject or closed her eyes as if she were sleeping.

Violet checked the fire to see that it was safe, changed into her heavy boots, pulled on her insulated jacket and went outside. The wooded hill where she and Roger had hiked seemed a long way off, but she decided to walk in that direction, and she set off along the farm road.

She had forgotten to bring gloves, but she borrowed a pair of Roger's that she found in the closet—much too large for her hands, but they provided the warmth she needed on such a cold day. At first, she let the wind blow freely through her hair, but when her ears began to tingle, she pulled the hood over her head.

Violet felt as if she were alone in a world of her own, except for the rabbit that bounced into her path and, with a quick look in her direction, bobbed its tail and took a flying leap into the underbrush. She heard a pheasant crow in the distance, and a covey of quail startled her when they took wing at her feet.

After walking for an hour, when Violet reentered the warmth of the house, she realized that she had forgotten her cares and worries of the morning. She heated some water and made a cup of hot chocolate, which she carried to the living area and placed on the table. She stoked the fire and added another log before she settled into Roger's big chair. In the coziness of
his chair, she felt as if he had enveloped her in his strong arms and she enjoyed the comfort of his presence.

Violet didn't realize that she had gone to sleep until she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She stretched, yawned and opened her eyes to slits. Roger stood beside her chair.

“It's five o'clock,” he said.

“Oh, dear,” she said, looking at the open book on her lap. She had read one page before going to sleep.

“Let me run to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I really feel sluggish.”

He helped her stand, saying, “You looked so peaceful—I hated to awaken you.”

“Oh, but I need to return. I don't want to overburden Aunt Ruth.”

They hurriedly left the house and sat in Roger's truck. When Roger turned the truck toward Maitland, he said, “You look better.”

“I am better. Thanks for allowing me to borrow your retreat for the afternoon.” With a oblique glance at him, she added, “Did you plant the pamphlet for me to find?”

He acknowledged it with a grin, and his brown eyes sparkled.

“Well, it worked,” Violet said. “I realize that I'm showing love by my actions, but at this point, I believe I'm exhibiting Christian love rather than filial love.”

“That kind of love is the best anyway, because we can show it to everyone. Often filial love can be selfish.”

“You provided what I needed most right now. I told you once you were comfortable to be around, but I wonder that you don't make me uncomfortable. It's
unnerving for you to read me so accurately—you know what's bothering me, sometimes before I even know myself.”

He turned his eyes from the road long enough to gaze at her with piercing intensity. “It doesn't really matter, does it?”

“No,” she murmured. With Roger, it really didn't matter. It didn't trouble her at all that he knew her innermost thoughts and needs.

 

The days of December always passed rapidly, and this year was no exception. Various programs and activities at school kept the schedule topsy-turvy, and Violet tried vainly to teach the role of the federal government when her students' minds were on parties, gifts, the long holiday season and their own personal desires.

At home, Linda's illness seemed to have reached a plateau. She slept most of the time, ate little and seemed to be suffering a minimum of pain. The hospice workers indicated that Linda's condition wasn't unusual, and that she could live this way for a few months, but they cautioned against undue optimism. There was no chance that she would recover.

As Christmas approached, Violet couldn't put out of her mind that her first date with Larry had been on Christmas Eve a year ago. Since she had told him about her mother, he had never shown any personal interest in her. She had received a card from him, but it was his practice to send one to each teacher on his staff. Although she displayed her other cards throughout the house, she dropped Larry's in the trash can.

Violet thought that it might be cheerful for Linda if they made Christmas a festive occasion, so she deco
rated as usual. Roger and his son Jason brought a tree for her when they went to cut their own. Jason looked much like his father with the same dark features. At nineteen, he was tall and lanky, but no doubt in a few more years he would develop a build like his well-muscled parent. Jason and Violet had been on good terms when he was in her class, though he had been a lazy student, hardly measuring up to his potential. Janie came one evening after school to help decorate the tree.

The girl was losing much of her diffidence. Especially in Violet's presence, Janie reacted more like a normal teenager should, and she was turning out to be quite a chatterer. When they finished with the tree, Violet asked Janie to stay for dinner, which Ruth had prepared while they decorated. Ruth also had a knack of putting Janie at ease, so when they cleared the invitation by phone with Mrs. Grady, the three of them settled at the table. Linda rarely came to the table anymore, and she wouldn't eat at all if one of them didn't sit by her bed and feed her.

“This is going to be the best Christmas I remember,” Janie said. “Mrs. Grady has decorated. She has presents under the tree and is planning a big dinner. With the allowance I receive, I've bought several presents. With the two little ones that Mrs. Grady cares for, it will be like a family—I'm eager to see them open their gifts.”

Violet and Ruth exchanged a compassionate glance. Violet already knew that Janie's mother was an alcoholic, that her home life had been dreadful and only rarely did the girl mention her mother.

“Janie,” Ruth said, “don't answer if you'd rather
not, but do you know anything about your father? Haven't you ever had a normal home life?”

“No, ma'am. Far as I know, my mother was married to my father, and I carry his last name, but I don't remember him at all. I think his name was Robert, but I'm not sure. There were always men in and out of our apartment, but none of them was my father.”

“Your father might want you if he knew where you were. Has there been any move to contact him?” Violet asked.

“Not as far as I know. I wouldn't know where to start, and I'd be afraid to try to find him anyway. What if I learned who he was, and he wouldn't own me or have anything to do with me? I'd just as soon stay the way I am. I won't be hurt that way.”

Violet could certainly identify with Janie's reasoning—she knew the pain of rejection, but she persisted, “Where were you born?”

“In Missouri, somewhere, but when I first remember, my mother and I lived in Springfield, Illinois, and there wasn't a father around after that. She goes by the name of Skeen, though—Pat Skeen.”

“Where is your mother now? How did she react when you were placed in a foster home?”

Janie dropped her head, and Ruth said, “Forgive us, Janie. We shouldn't be prying into your personal affairs. We're just interested in helping you.”

“And you are helping me—by treating me like I'm somebody. But about my mother—I don't know where she is. I went home from school one day, and she was gone. There were other times when she would be gone for two or three days, but when a week passed, and she didn't come back, I didn't know what to do. A
friend of mine, who had the same problems I did, wanted to run away, and I joined her.”

Ruth poured another glass of tea for Janie and served all of them a portion of fruitcake. Violet had lost her appetite, for hearing Janie's experience brought back her own childhood, and she silently thanked God for Aunt Ruth who had shielded her from the kind of life Janie had endured.

“Did your mother report your absence to the authorities?”

“I don't know. My friend soon got tired of living on the streets and went back home, but I wandered on my own until I nearly starved to death. I went to a shelter then, and a social worker began to counsel me. When my mother couldn't be found at our old address, and I knew nothing about my father, the state agency took over. I lived in another home for two months before I was sent to Mrs. Grady.”

Fleetingly, Violet wondered if she could adopt Janie. She loved the girl and would like to give her a home, but she wasn't sure if that was the answer. Janie should be with her own people. Surely somewhere there was a member of her family who would want her.

 

Christmas Day was quiet, but meaningful to those in Violet's household. They bundled Linda into her wheelchair and insisted that she share in the gift opening. Since Roger's children had gone to Arizona for a week with his mother and sister, Violet invited him to take dinner with them. When she asked Roger why he hadn't gone to Arizona, too, he said, “The holiday season is a poor time for a state policeman to be on
vacation,” but she wondered if he hadn't stayed in Maitland because he thought she would need him.

Ruth and Violet had very little cooking to do, for the church women had brought cakes, cookies, and other goodies until Violet asked Pastor Tom to announce to the congregation that they needed nothing more.

Roger came early, and he helped them bring Linda into the living room. He brought presents for everyone, and even Linda showed an interest in her gifts, although she didn't have the strength to open them. Violet had never bought a gift for Roger, but after the tower of strength he had been to her in the past few months, she presented him with the biography of an outstanding evangelist whom he admired.

Roger brought a blooming plant for Linda, a popular movie video for Ruth, and a dainty ceramic colonial lady for Violet to add to her collection. And Violet was particularly touched by a gift from Janie, a tiny doll figurine of a teacher.

After the gift opening, Linda rested an hour before dinner, and they brought her to the table, but her eyes were glossy, and the extra activity obviously drained her strength. They took her back to bed before they ate dessert. Roger wheeled her chair into the bedroom and helped Violet put her in bed. Before she tucked the covers around her, Violet put her arms around Linda and said, “Merry Christmas, Mother. I love you,” and thanked God that it was so; she had learned to love her mother.

A faint smile played around Linda's lips, and she squeezed Violet's hand. Weakly, she whispered, “Take care of her, Roger.”

He knelt by the bed and took Linda's hand. “I intend to,” he said, “so don't worry about it.”

Violet missed the import of Roger's answer in her concern for her mother. She turned startled eyes toward Roger.
Was her mother dying?

Roger shook his head and motioned Violet out of the room. “She's used up all of her strength,” he whispered. “She'll be all right.”

Pastor Tom came in the afternoon to pray with Linda before he went to visit several of his parishioners in the hospital. After the pastor left, Ruth said, “I'm going to take a nap, Violet. I'll be up in time to prepare some supper.”

“We can eat leftovers, Aunt Ruth—there are plenty of them. You'll stay for the evening, won't you, Roger?”

“I have no intention of leaving as long as there's any of that pecan pie left,” he said with a grin. Then he patted his side, “Or, at least, I won't unless my beeper goes off.”

“Oh, are you on call?” Violet said, disappointed.

“Only in an extreme emergency. I worked until three o'clock this morning, so hopefully, I won't be called. Christmas Eve is the most dangerous time for accidents—people usually settle down on Christmas Day.”

After Ruth went to the basement, Roger leaned back in the lounge chair, and Violet reclined on the couch. “Want to watch television?” she asked.

“Might as well,” Roger said, stifling a yawn.

Violet checked the TV listings. She mentioned a classic Christmas movie to Roger that had just begun.

“That will be fine. I've watched the show so many
times with the kids that I don't have to see the beginning.”

Violet lowered the volume on the television so that Linda and Ruth wouldn't be disturbed. Then she fluffed a cushion, put it under her head, and leaned back on the couch, which was a mistake, she decided an hour later when she awakened.
Not a very flattering way to entertain a guest,
she thought, but she turned to look at Roger, and he, too, was sleeping. She raised on one elbow and looked intently at him.

Here was a new Roger! When he was awake, he was always so vibrant, energetic, and his dark eyes snapped with authority and confidence. Sleeping, the years rolled away, and he seemed as young as Jason. In fact, as he lay relaxed and peaceful, he also seemed vulnerable, and for the first time, Violet felt protective toward him. She always expected him to bail her out of difficulties; maybe it was time for their friendship to work two ways. He didn't have an easy life with sole responsibility for two children, as well as having a dangerous and demanding job.

Roger stirred and sleepily met her eyes. Lifting the chair into an upright position, he said, “Sorry—I guess I haven't been very good company.”