To Love and Honor (5 page)

Roger poured water into a pan for the dogs and gave them a small portion of dry food. After the dogs had eaten, he lifted them into the truck and fastened them in their box. “They're just like kids who have played out in the fresh air all day. They'll sleep on the way back to town.”

When they came to the farm buildings, Roger parked beside the house. The one-story structure, an old house, was painted a light green with modern win
dows installed. “Come in and see my hideaway,” he invited.

“This is a good retreat,” Violet said. “That row of evergreens conceals the house from the highway and blocks the noise from the road.”

They walked up on the front porch and Roger opened the door, then stepped back to let Violet precede him into one large room that swept the entire length of the house. On the western side was a kitchen area with modern cabinets and appliances, a small dining area, and a broad window providing a view of the hills. The rest of the room was paneled in light oak. A brightly colored oval rug lay in front of a large fireplace with comfortable chairs grouped around it. A plaid-upholstered couch stood beneath the window, a bookcase filled with books and magazines nearby.

“This is wonderful,” Violet said. “No wonder you like to come here.”

“The house was in bad condition when I bought the place, but I tore down the shed on the rear of the building, installed new windows and siding, and removed some partitions to make this one big room.” He motioned toward the back of the house. “There's a small bedroom and bath in that area.”

“It's definitely a man's house,” she said. “Do your children like it?”

“Right now, they're more interested in town life. I've brought them out a few times, but they aren't very enthusiastic. I thought Jason might enjoy working on the farm, but he hasn't shown much interest.” He indicated the fireplace where several logs awaited a match. “We can have a fire if you want to stay awhile. It's cool in here.”

“I have no plans for the afternoon, just so I'm back to Maitland in time for church.”

“While I start a fire, see what you can rustle up for a snack from the refrigerator and cabinets.”

The smell of wood smoke wafted through the house while Violet looked in the cabinets. “What about cheese and crackers?” she called. “And there are soft drinks. Or do you prefer a hot beverage?”

“Heat some water for tea, please.”

Roger pulled two of the chairs close to the fire and placed a small table between them. By that time, Violet had sliced the cheese and had the water boiling. He rummaged in the cabinets until he found a plastic tray, placed the cheese and crackers and the two cups of tea on it, and carried their snack to the living area.

Violet sighed as she sank into one of the lounge chairs. She took off her shoes and leaned back. Roger removed his jacket before he sat down. “It will get hot in here before long.”

As they munched on the cheese and crackers, Violet observed the sparsely furnished room more closely, and she said, “No television?”

“Nor a telephone, either. I do have a small radio in the bedroom.”

On the mantel was a family picture—a man, woman and two small children. Violet hadn't seen a picture of Roger's wife, but she could see many of Misty's features in the woman.

“Roger, why haven't you remarried?”

“Are you proposing to me?” A mischievous twinkle sparkled in his deep eyes.

“Of course not,” she said. “I noticed the picture and that made me curious.”

“Why do you wonder?”

“Well, you're such good company. I have the feeling you've been alone for a long time.”

“Ten years,” he said musingly.

“Don't you miss sharing your life with someone? Raising two children alone couldn't have been easy,” she added.

“At first, the pain was too deep to even consider another marriage, and I didn't want to saddle my kids with a stepmother as young as they were. My mother lived with us until a year ago, so the children had plenty of supervision while I was at work. When Misty turned fifteen, Mother went to live with my sister in Arizona to get away from the cold, damp winters here. The idea of remarrying isn't distasteful to me. Now that the kids are involved with all kinds of interests and activities that don't include their Dad, I have been thinking about it.”

Violet nodded approvingly. She had seen firsthand that Roger was a good, supportive father, and he would make a caring husband.

“Now, it's my turn to ask questions. Are you going to marry Larry Holland?”

His question startled her, but she smiled slightly. “He hasn't asked me.”

“Maybe Olivia Holland hasn't given her okay yet.”

“Now, Roger! Larry is a nice guy—he can't help what his mother does.”

“I know that. So if he does ask, will you marry him?”

“I've often asked myself the same question. I'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't I?”

“Probably so. He's a good catch, or so I'm told.”

Roger continued to gaze at her, his expression relaxed, yet his gaze was somehow intense. Violet looked away. She stared into the flames, sipping on the tea until it cooled. Right now she had to make a decision more pressing than marriage.

Roger stood, stoked the fire, and took the empty cup
from her hand. He carried the utensils to the kitchen, and Violet heard him washing the items and replacing them in the cabinets. When he returned to his chair, Violet said, “I'm going to take her.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you happy with that decision?”

“No, not exactly happy, but maybe relieved. As a Christian, I know it's the right choice. I can't get the words of Jesus out of my mind,
I was sick and in prison and you came to me.
Aunt Ruth advises against it, saying she will care for my mother at her home. But in all good conscience, I can't allow that. I'll have to take her and manage the best as I can.”

“I'll help every way I can.”

“Do you think we can keep her past a secret?”

“A lot of legal red tape will be required to transfer a paroled prisoner from one state to another, and the incident is bound to be caught by the news media. It will be better if you don't try to hide her past. It will be a worse scandal if you conceal her background and the news leaks out gradually.”

“I'll probably lose all of my friends.”

“Anyone who deserts you because of a tragedy like this that happened when you were a child isn't worth having for a friend.”

“I've been thinking all afternoon that I probably should go talk to Pastor Tom about this.”

“A good idea. If you have your church family behind you, half the battle is won. Do you want me to go with you to see him?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then let's close up here and go now. He should be in the church office this afternoon.”

T
om Walker was a small man with a neat figure, a kindly face, and a deep voice. His hazel eyes were bright and clear. Now in his sixties, his reddish brown hair, fringed in gray, was steadily receding from his forehead. Tom's wife had died, childless, several years ago, so Tom's whole life was tied up in the ministry of First Community Church, which he had shepherded for ten years.

He looked up with a twinkle in his eyes when Violet and Roger entered. “Have you two come for premarital counseling?”

Violet was encouraged that he started the session on a light note, for she was able to smile and said, “Why ruin a perfect relationship by marrying your best friend?” Roger said nothing, but when Violet glanced in his direction, she was astounded to note that his face had flushed slightly.

Pastor Tom laughed. “I thought you might be following the trend today. I've had two couples already
this afternoon. But sit down, anyway. What's on your mind?”

The pastor's office was equipped with roomy, padded chairs grouped around his desk. Tom was a patient man, never pushing his visitors to speak until they were ready, and the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I don't know any easy way to say this,” Violet began, “but my mother, Linda Conley, is serving a life sentence for murder in a correctional facility in Kansas. She's a terminal cancer patient, and Roger received a message two days ago that they want to parole her to the next of kin. That happens to be me.” The silence in the room was intense, broken only by the faint ticking of a small clock on the pastor's desk. Once she had made the initial disclosure, Violet hurried on to reveal the whole story, ending with, “I know it's something I have to do, but how can I cope with this disruption in my life? I wish I could say I was doing it out of love for my mother, but I don't love her. I don't even know her. It will be like taking a complete stranger into my home.”

“The first step toward coping is prayer.”

“I have been praying, and I'm sure Roger has also, otherwise, I couldn't have come this far.”

“You seem to have the situation under control,” the pastor said. “How can I help you?”

“Although I don't know how I can possibly care for a very ill woman and teach school also, I'm concerned about local people finding out about my past, as well. I rather flatter myself that I have a good reputation in the community, and I don't know how I can bear to have everyone know that my mother is in prison for killing my father.” Violet covered her face
with her hands. “Just saying the words brings so much anguish that I want to crawl in a hole and die. What will it be like when those words are on the lips of everyone in Maitland?”

Roger placed his hand on Violet's trembling shoulder. “Perhaps we should mention, Pastor, that Mrs. Conley doesn't want to be released from prison. She wouldn't tell the authorities that she had any relatives. It's my understanding that right from the first, she has tried to protect Violet's name. I have doubts that she will willingly come here.”

“Then I'd suggest, Roger, that you find out the particulars of her release and the extent of the obligations Violet will have to assume. If you do bring Mrs. Conley to Maitland, I can break the news to the church family, and I think most of them will support you. I can't answer for the rest of the community.” He left his chair and went to a bookshelf behind him. “Have either of you read this bestselling book by Richard Cameron?”

“I don't recognize the name,” Violet said, and Roger shook his head.

“
What's Your Prison?
is apparently the author's first book. His premise is that all of us are imprisoned by something, and he gives spiritual evidence that we can be freed by the Spirit. Your mother has a physical prison, but Cameron contends that other kinds of imprisonment can be just as confining and self-destructive. He refers to situations that imprison the spirit—passions, fear, jealousy, ambition, the inability to forgive, hatred, and many others—and though humankind can be pardoned legally for its sins against humanity, only God can free a person from spiritual and moral bondage. Cameron bases his premise on the
words of Jesus, ‘So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.' I was so impressed by his writings that I contacted the publisher to see if we could invite the author for a series of lectures on the subject, but it seems Mr. Cameron is a recluse and will not make public appearances.”

Roger took the book and leafed through it before he handed it to Violet. “I've never put it into those words,” he said, “but I agree with the author. I've always thought that we make our own prisons.”

“It might be encouraging to you to read this book, Violet,” Pastor Tom said, “because the task you're assuming will not be an easy one. You will have your own prison.”

“Thank you,” Violet said, and she tucked the book in her pocket. Despite Pastor Tom's praise, she doubted that
any
book could hold the answers to her dilemma.

 

As they left the church, Larry drove by in his sleek silver sedan, but if he saw them, he made no indication. With a wry smile, Roger said, “Suppose he will make the same assumption that Pastor Tom did when we arrived at his office?”

“Oh, the pastor was just joking.” Roger opened the truck door and assisted her into the high seat. “What do you think of the pastor's suggestion that you make some official inquiries?”

“I'll start on it the first thing in the morning. I should have some news by the time you're home from work tomorrow.”

As they drove the short distance toward her home, Violet said, “That will make the day long for me, but
if you call me at school, I won't be able to concentrate on my teaching.”

When she telephoned Ruth of her decision, her aunt immediately said, “If you do bring her to your home, I'm coming to help you. You can't afford to quit work, and I can take a leave from my part-time job.” Although she hated for Ruth to make the sacrifice, Violet didn't know how she could possibly manage alone, and she agreed to accept her aunt's help.

 

Larry telephoned soon after Violet returned from evening worship service, and after he had chatted briefly, he said, “I saw you with Roger Gibson again this afternoon.”

“Yes, he invited me to go out to his farm, and we hiked in the woodlands. We needed to stop at the church afterward to speak to Pastor Tom.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't ask, but what is your relationship with Gibson?”

Larry had not yet made any commitment that would give him the right to regulate her friendships, and the domineering tone his voice took on as he asked his question certainly annoyed her, but she answered calmly. “Roger is a good friend. I see him often at church, and since I've taught both of his children, we've had a satisfactory teacher-parent relationship.”

“I don't like to make a point of it, but we've dated steadily for almost a year. I haven't seen anyone else during that time, and I assumed that you hadn't, but the past few days, Lieutenant Gibson has enjoyed more of your company than I have.”

If the time came when she had to choose between Roger's friendship and Larry's companionship, what would she do?

“I'm sorry to disturb you, Larry. The past few days, Roger and I have had a mutual problem, which required our meeting, but I can't reveal any more than that at this time. You'll just have to trust me.”

“Very well,” Larry answered tersely. “Have you decided about going on the skiing trip? We're leaving the day before Thanksgiving and will be back by Tuesday when school resumes.”

Violet hesitated. Since she didn't know when or if her mother would be coming, she couldn't commit herself to the trip, but Thanksgiving was three weeks away, and it was quite likely that her mother would be in her home by then. “I would really enjoy going with you, but I'm fairly sure that I'll have visitors over the holiday. Perhaps you'll give me a rain check?”

Ignoring her comment, he didn't say whether he would or not, and Violet assumed he was annoyed. “You remember that I'll be gone all next week to the national principal's convention in Florida.”

Violet laughed. “It's tough luck to have to go to Florida and miss all of this gloomy weather we're having, but someone has to take the dirty jobs. Have fun.”

“Remember we are going down there to work, but I intend to consider it a working vacation.” His good humor seemed to have resurfaced, and he said, “Goodbye. See you in a week.”

 

The time dragged for Violet on Monday. It was always difficult to motivate her students on Mondays, especially when her own mind was elsewhere. They had been hyperactive while preparing for the fair competition, and now that it was over, and the awards given, she could hardly interest them in the new unit they were starting.

Nan and Violet had a chance to lunch together and met in Violet's room to eat the bag lunches they'd brought from home.

“Did you have any flack about the Social Studies competition?” Nan asked.

“A lot of dirty looks on Friday, both toward Janie and me, but except for the ‘accident' to her project, I haven't heard anything. Have you?”

“Some comments among the teachers about ‘favoritism,' but there are several teachers who don't feel about Janie as we do. She's an embarrassment to them…they feel intimidated by her past. People who have lived a trauma-free life can't understand those who haven't had it easy.”

If Janie affected them that way, how would they deal with Violet's sordid background? Would that alienate her also?

“I haven't asked about the birthday party last week. How did it go?”

Remembering her unease at the dinner, Violet's eyes clouded, and she chewed slowly on her sandwich before she answered.

“I had to sit beside Mrs. Holland, and she made me quite uncomfortable prying into my antecedents. I have some family members who wouldn't pass muster under much investigation.”

“Haven't we all?” Nan said with a laugh. “If she's checking into your ancestry, Larry must be getting serious.”

“That's my opinion, too,” Violet conceded. “And Larry has taken exception to my friendship with Roger Gibson. What do you make of that?”

“That the Holland family is no place for a person
who values freedom. Think long and hard about any alliance you make with them.”

“I can't tell you the details now, but some decisions I've made this week may remove me speedily from the list of Holland ‘eligibles.'”

“So much the better for you.” Nan crumpled her lunch bag and tossed it in the waste can. “Larry is a good administrator because he gets to make the rules, but the traits that make him a successful principal wouldn't necessarily be welcome in a husband,” she advised. “See you later,” she added as the bell rung for classes to resume.

When Violet returned home after school, she was tempted to sit by the phone, waiting for Roger's call, but tried to busy herself with other tasks. She looked around her home, wondering how she could manage with two more people in the house. Probably she would need a hospital bed for her mother, and she could dismantle the bed in the small room and put her mother there. But what about Aunt Ruth? Could she put the small bed in the living room for herself and leave her bedroom to Aunt Ruth? Any way you looked at it, her whole household would need to be rearranged.

By the time Roger telephoned, Violet was so discouraged she didn't know which way to turn, and his report on what he had learned from a representative at the prison didn't make her feel any better.

“They will release her into your custody,” Roger said, “with occasional visits by a parole officer, but she has a clean record as far as behavior is concerned, so they aren't worried about her conduct. You will have to go to Topeka to sign the necessary papers, and she will be transported here in an ambulance at the
expense of the correctional facility. She isn't able to travel any other way. As I understand, the State of Kansas will be responsible for her medical expenses, such as the chemotherapy treatments that she's been taking each week.”

“I'll need to take school leave for a couple of days, for I don't suppose I could make the necessary arrangements over a weekend. Please get the particulars of whom I should contact at the prison, and what I should do. I'll arrive there on Thursday, and if I need additional time, I can travel home on Saturday or Sunday.”

“Do you want me to go with you, Violet?”

“I can't ask you to leave your work and your family.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he repeated.

With his knowledge of the rules and regulations governing prisoners, Roger would be a valuable help to her, but she thought of Larry's suspicion of Roger, or was it jealousy? But Larry was gone this week; maybe he wouldn't know. But when she was concerned about the loss of reputation if the citizens learned about her mother, what would they think if she took an overnight trip with Roger? Would that become common knowledge, too?

“I'm waiting for an answer,” Roger said.

“You know I would be grateful for your company, but that's asking too much, especially to leave your family. Truthfully, I don't know whether I can handle it alone, but Aunt Ruth might be able to meet me there, though that's a long trip from Minnesota.”

“I have a few vacation days I must take before the end of the year, and my aunt comes and stays at the house when I have to be away,” Roger said. “I can
arrange it. I won't be going in an official capacity, of course.”

“I know I shouldn't accept your offer, but it will make my load a lot easier if you're with me,” she said gratefully. “We can go in my car and leave early Thursday morning. We should be in Topeka in time to make some contacts that afternoon.”