A Quiet Strength (20 page)

Please, Grandmother, don’t argue with us about this. We want you here. We need you here.”

The elderly woman reached up a shaky hand to touch Virginia’s cheek.

“I missed you all so much” was all she said, but Virginia knew that the matter was settled.

Greeting the spring season once again meant muddy tracks and muck-covered overalls as the corrals went through the usual thawing-out time. But as an offset to the mess, Virginia also watched for early buds and blossoms. And when the first robin called outside the kitchen window, she felt spring was truly ready to release them from the grip of winter.

Her heart was ready to have its burden lifted. With spring, surely Grandmother Withers would get some strength back. Surely life could take up where it had left off the summer before. There would be the flowers, the garden of vegetables, the warm days spent on the porch shelling peas or cutting rhubarb. Life would be better now.

And with each day there was slow improvement. But Vir? ginia soon realized that things would never again go back to being the same with her beloved companion. Grandmother Withers did not have the strength to enjoy digging in the flower beds or pulling weeds from rows of young carrots. She hardly had strength to walk to the porch to sit in the sun.

But she still was wonderful company. Her cheerful greeting and her broad smile helped to brighten the day for each family member. Martha joined Mindy in the story times. And Grand? mother managed to entertain the two little ones for hours of the day while Virginia hurried from one task to another.

“I think Grandmother needs her stick back,” Mindy observed, and amid chuckles the cane was put back into use. Mindy had to have hers back, as well, and of course Jonathan had to fashion one for little Martha. All day long Virginia listened to the
thump, thump
of walking sticks as the three moved about the house. Martha did not understand that her cane was to move in unison with her step, so she just pounded it on the floor as she went, a happy grin on her little round face. It could have been irritating had Virginia not reminded herself of the reason for the thumps. She only smiled and went on peeling potatoes for supper or mincing onions for the stew. At least they were together. For that she was very thankful.

In spite of her busy summer, Virginia felt happy. With the warmer, dryer weather, the children were able to spend much of their time outside romping in the sun’s warm rays. Murphy watched over them, limping along with them wherever they went. Virginia had to laugh one day as she came in from the garden with a mess of fresh beans and saw tiny Martha trying to offer Murphy a walking stick. Murphy looked patient but totally perplexed as the youngster kept trying to shove the stick in his paw. “He’yah, Mu’fy,” she told him over and over.

Virginia shared the story with Grandmother Withers and later again with Jonathan when he came in at the end of the day.

“Well, I guess she thinks it works for limps” was Jonathan’s comment. And they all laughed again.

CHAPTER  20

T
here’s a letter from my mother,” Jonathan said as he set Virginia’s grocery order from town on the table beside her.

Virginia wiped her hands on a nearby kitchen towel. “What did she say?”

“It was addressed to both of us.” Jonathan never opened mail that was sent to them both until they were together. Vir? ginia nodded toward the envelope that lay beside the groceries and said simply, “Please read it to me.”

Jonathan did not scan the letter first but began at once to read it aloud. Her mother-in-law was planning a visit from their ranch in the West. She wanted to see Jonathan’s Mindy and the new baby daughter. She also wanted to see her mother. It had been a long time.

“When is she coming?” asked Virginia, her voice holding both anticipation and concern. Her eyes automatically traveled around the room, noting things she would want to attend to before the visit.

“The end of the month—if it’s all right with us. It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” responded Virginia. “It will be wonderful to have her come. Grandmother will be so glad to see her.”

“ The ‘baby,’ “ chuckled Jonathan as he reread portions of the letter. “She’ll be some surprised if she expects to find a baby. Martha’s out there right now trying to dig a hole for Murphy to hide in.”

“Oh, she’s not! Where?”

“In that south flower bed,” said Jonathan with a grin. “The dirt’s nice and soft there.”

Virginia hurried from the kitchen, hopeful she would be in time to rescue her plants and keep Martha from making a total mess of herself and the yard.

Jonathan was right. There was Martha, big kitchen spoon in hand, dirt flying in every direction.

“Martha! Stop it!” Virginia called before even reaching the child.

Martha pushed up on chubby legs to her full height of twenty-nine inches. “Mu’fy,” she said, pointing to the hole she had dug, eyes shining with glee.

“Murphy does not need a hole,” Virginia remonstrated as she began to brush the child off. “And where on earth did you get my spoon?”

“In there,” said Martha pointing toward the house.

Virginia pushed dirt back into the hole with one foot, picked up Martha and the spoon, and headed back to the kitchen.

“There’s a P.S.,” said Jonathan as Virginia entered the room. “I didn’t notice it before.”

Virginia plopped Martha on the floor, took the spoon from her hand, and straightened, her eyes on Jonathan.

“She says she plans to bring Slate with her.”

“A slate? Why? How will she manage that? And what does she want to do with it when she gets it here?”

Jonathan laughed heartily. “Well, I can sure enough under? stand your confusion there,” he said. “Always said it was a strange name for a boy.”

“A boy?”

“My oldest sister’s son. She called him Slate. Don’t ask me why, but it’s rather a common name out in those parts.”

“So your mother is bringing a child with her?” asked Virginia returning to his first statement.

“Yeah. That’s what she says here. She plans on bringing Slate with her, if it’s all right. She says he can’t wait to see the place. Thinks I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be working with horses.”

But Virginia’s head already was spinning with plans and questions. Her mother-in-law could use the guest room where Grandmother Withers had been before she was taken ill, but where would she put another child? The upstairs had three bedrooms, and Grandmother Withers was still occupying the living room.

The living room
, Virginia’s thoughts rushed on. What would Jonathan’s mother think of the living room? They could scarcely turn around in there. And the walls still were raw plaster. Jona? than had not found time to put on a coat of paint.

Oh dear
, thought Virginia.
The end of the month is only two weeks away
. How would she ever be ready to greet her mother-in-law?

She looked quickly around her kitchen. Its walls still needed color, and the cupboards had not yet been stained. The curtains were up “temporarily,” and the floor was waiting for its cover? ing. But it was clean and it had been serviceable and roomy. Almost comfy. But with her mother-in-law coming?

Virginia’s mind was not totally on the supper preparations that evening.

There didn’t seem to be very much Virginia could do over the next two weeks to improve her house. She did clean it thor? oughly from top to bottom, even though Jonathan insisted that it didn’t need it. But there was no way to make more space in the living room. And she did not want to make Grandmother Withers feel that her bed in there was an imposition. Vir? ginia concentrated instead on the kitchen and the guest room upstairs. She scrubbed the cupboards and table until they glis? tened. She washed the windows and the curtains, starching the latter so stiff they scarcely dared hang in folds. She polished the stove until the enamel and chrome reflected her face.

The bedroom got the same careful attention. The latest quilt, as yet not used, graced the four-poster Jonathan had pur? chased at the local hardware store. A new braided rug covered the area in front of the bed. The curtains were crisp and clean at the room’s one window, and the small chest brought from her girlhood bedroom stood against one wall, a gold-rimmed blue pitcher and bowl sitting proudly on its surface. Still Virginia worried. The room looked so small, so bare….

I’ll bring up one of the chairs from the living room
, she decided. Which she did, draping a knitted afghan over the back. She felt that it looked much better. And it also helped to add a bit more space to the living room below.

Now, what about the little boy? Where will he sleep?
she won? dered frantically. But when she brought up the subject with Jonathan, he dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand! “Oh, we’ll find some place to tuck him in,” he said airily.

Virginia turned her attention to baking. At least she should have something to serve her special guests.

Virginia could not still the butterflies as they waited for the incoming train. Grandmother Withers had announced that she would wait at home, no doubt aware that the motorcar would not hold all of them.

“You go and let me stay,” Virginia had urged, but the older woman had insisted that a trip to town was more than she cared to exert herself for. She preferred the peace and comfort of her own rocking chair. So Jonathan and Virginia, with the two children brushed and polished to perfection, were now on the platform to meet the incoming train. Virginia’s nervous stomach churned right along with its rolling wheels.

She had enjoyed meeting Damaris Lewis years before, but the woman had not been her mother-in-law then. Virginia had felt no need to live up to any expectations. But things were quite different now. Virginia did hope that she wouldn’t let Jonathan down. That his mother might approve of the choice he had made. That she might be proud of her grandchildren.

Virginia watched the travelers disembark. For a fleeting moment she thought perhaps their guests had missed their train or changed their plans. It seemed that all the passengers had already alighted. Then a tall young man carrying two heavy cases descended the steps of the railway car. He was followed closely by a woman wrapped in a fashionable traveling coat, a matching hat almost hiding her face. Jonathan moved forward, and Virginia knew that her mother-in-law was here.

But she did not step forward herself. This moment belonged to Jonathan. There would be time for her to greet their guests soon enough.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around his mother’s shoul? ders. She hugged him for what seemed to be a very long time. Virginia didn’t hear any words exchanged, but perhaps they needed none. When the embrace ended, the woman dabbed at her eyes and Jonathan turned his attention to the young man who stood silently to the side.

“Slate,” Virginia heard him say. “You’ve grown outa your breeches, boy.”

The boy grinned as he shook Jonathan’s hand; then they, too, embraced.

Slate?
thought Virginia.
They said she was bringing a child. This is Slate?

Jonathan placed one arm around each of the newcomers and steered them toward Virginia and the children. “You’ve met Virginia, Mother.”

“Yes,” said the woman with an open smile and open arms.

“It’s so good to see you again, Virginia, dear. Mother writes such wonderful things about you.”

Virginia felt her face flush. She hadn’t realized that Grandmother Withers was sending written reports.

“And the children. How she loves the children,” enthused Damaris.

The children
. Virginia had almost forgotten they were with her. She felt Mindy lean up against her now. Virginia reached down a hand, thankful to have her close.

“This is our Mindy,” Jonathan was saying, and Mindy, with typical shyness, pressed closer against Virginia.

“And Martha …” he began. “Where is Martha?”

Virginia whirled around.
Where is Martha?

But there she was, not four feet away, in her favorite squat? ting position, her clean frock streaked with some kind of plat? form grime, her neatly tied hair ribbon askew in her curls. She looked up just as the group looked her way and gave them one of her impish grins. Protruding from her mouth at a rakish angle was someone’s discarded cigarette butt.

It was obvious from the very first day that Jonathan’s love of horses was equaled by that of young Slate. “Boy, I’ve never seen such horses,” he said over and over, his eyes glowing with admiration.

Virginia could tell that the open praise was not lost on his uncle Jonathan. “You want to handle them some?” he suggested.

It was a question that did not need an answer.

She watched as the two went to the barns and the corrals. Slate looked on as Jonathan put some of the younger stock through their paces. Then Jonathan passed him the training rein.

With a bit of coaching he soon was handling it well. He seemed to be a natural in working with the animals. Virginia knew that he’d had experience on his father’s ranch, but she had not expected to see a boy of sixteen—which was Slate’s age—handling high-spirited horses with such obvious ease.

“He’s got the right touch,” Jonathan said to her proudly as he prepared for bed. “Soft hands. Horses know that. They also sense fear. There is no fear in that boy. He’d have gone out there and worked with the stallions if I’d let him.”

“I saw that. Even I could tell,” answered Virginia.

“How did your day go?”

She smiled. “Your mother is very sweet, Jonathan. She is still chuckling over her first glimpse of Martha. And she’s been so nice about the house—how we are all crowded into the living room and all. She didn’t even seem to notice when I sent Slate up to get the chair from her room. I forgot we’d need it in the living room while she’s here. We’ll have to get us a chair for the bedroom as soon as we’re able. It’s not right for a guest to have no place to sit and unlace her shoes.”

“I knew she’d love you,” said Jonathan, drawing Virginia close and kissing her forehead. “My mother and I have the same faultless good taste.”

Virginia snuggled up against him. “I like young Slate, too. Did you notice him with the children? Even Mindy has warmed up to him, and Martha—she follows him around like a puppy.”