Like Gold Refined (20 page)

“Is there a problem?” she asked. “Isn’t Mr. Simcoe—?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” her mother was quick to say. “He has worked out well. It’s been such a blessed gift. His being there has given the folks longer time in their own home. But now … ”

“Now?” Virginia prompted when Belinda did not finish the thought.

“Now … Mama’s arthritis is worse. It’s bothering her shoulders now. She can barely lift her arms above her head. It’s becoming increasingly hard for her to dress herself. And Papa has his own problems and can help her only a little.”

“I didn’t know,” said Virginia sadly.

Belinda sighed. “You know Mama. She says no one is going to be doing for her what she can do for herself.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“No, I don’t blame her, either. It’s hard enough to have another
woman
helping you dress and giving you baths. I wouldn’t expect Mr. Simcoe to be doing that for Mama. Nor would I expect her to allow him to.”

Virginia thought back to the years of caring for Grand? mother Withers. Bed care certainly left one little privacy.

But she still felt that inner resistance—surely, surely things were not that bad. There must be some way to leave her grand? parents in their own home. To remain as they had always been.

“I … I hope we don’t have to … to rush with a decision,” she finally said.

“Rush? My dear girl,” said Belinda with a soft chuckle, shaking her head, “we’ve been dragging our feet for the last five years. The folks should have been off the farm long ago.”

“Would you feel okay about Martha riding Buttercup?”

Virginia was surprised at Jonathan’s question.

“She’s awfully young for horseback riding, isn’t she?”

“Well … maybe. Maybe not. She’s been in the saddle since she was a mite.”

“But not alone.”

“No, not alone.”

“Is it for her sake … or the horse’s?” she said, her tone teasing.

“Well, Buttercup could do with the riding,” he answered a little sheepishly.

“I thought you or Slate were seeing to it that she got exercise.”

“Exercise isn’t the problem. We can take care of that all right. But she should be keeping in contact with children. It’s not quite the same as with adults. If she’s going to be a child’s horse … ”

“I see.”

“We won’t send her alone. At least not yet. We’ll ride along with her until we’re sure she can handle things on her own. Mindy wasn’t so much older. … ”

Virginia pondered the question. She did not like to see Martha grow up too fast. However, she did not wish to see Mindy’s horse become fit for only adult riders. And she knew Martha would be thrilled with being able to ride alone.

“I guess it would be okay,” she finally agreed. She saw Jonathan smile.

CHAPTER 18

A
sharp wind was rattling the downspout at the corner of the kitchen, whipping the limbs of the birch tree outside the window and sending sprays of falling leaves dancing across the newly plowed garden. Rosebushes and flowering shrubs already had been put to bed for the winter, the garden produce had been gathered, and the ground fresh-plowed to work in all of the cuttings, peels, and plant tops. Autumn was in the air.

Virginia listened to the blowing wind outside, glad for the warmth of the home Jonathan had provided. She was placing cream in her butter crock, setting it out for the next day’s churning, the last task of the day. She would prepare hot cider for Jonathan and Slate, who discussed farm business in front of the large living room fireplace. She could then stretch out her feet toward the blaze and take up her knitting while the sound of their voices filled her with a sense of peace.

But she had not poured the last of the cream before a quite different sound caught her attention. Lights reflected off the side of the chicken house, then swung in an arc toward the porch. A car had come down the lane and was pulling to a stop near the back gate.

Virginia frowned.
Who on earth? And at this time of night.
Her eyes glanced at the clock—almost a quarter to ten. No neighbors—or family—came calling at such a time. Unless of course, something was wrong.

Virginia felt fear clutch her heart. “Jonathan—someone’s here.”

Jonathan quickly joined her, peering out the window into the darkness. Steps sounded hurriedly across the porch boards, and Jonathan moved to open the door before the caller had a chance to knock.

Mr. Woods stood on the threshold. Virginia could tell by his face that the man was distraught.
Jenny
, her heart whispered and her hand went to her throat.

“Come in,” nodded Jonathan. “I take it … you’ve heard something.”

For an answer the man held out a single-page letter. “This came. In today’s post. I just now found the time to go through my mail.”

Jonathan turned the letter toward the light, and Virginia stood beside him to read over his shoulder.

Dear Grandpa Woods,

Mama is very sick and I don’t know what to do. Can you come?

Respectfully,

Mindy

Virginia’s eyes lifted from the page. It was the first anyone had heard from the child. Strange—the mixture of childish concern and careful formality. Under different circumstances Virginia might have smiled. All she could think of now was that Jenny was very ill. Mindy was alone with her. The poor child. The poor little child.

“You’re going,” she heard Jonathan saying to Mr. Woods. It was hardly a question.

“There was no return address,” the man said and his voice sounded hollow. Worried.

“Isn’t there some way to—?”

“I’ll have to find some way. I can’t just … ” His voice drifted to a stop.

Slate had joined them. He stood back, his face concerned, listening to what was being said.

“How about the police?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe the hospital staff if she’s been under treatment.”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “But I’ll find her. Some way. I just hope I’m not too late. I … I thought you’d want to know,” he said as Jonathan returned the letter.

“Of course,” said Jonathan, running a hand through his hair. “Of course.”

Virginia became aware of tears running freely down her cheeks. She fumbled for a handkerchief. “Is there anything we can do?” she heard Jonathan asking.

“Pray. Please pray. That I find her in time to … to say a proper good-bye.” He looked so anguished. So suddenly old that Virginia’s tears increased.

“We’ll pray. You’re leaving on tomorrow’s train?”

“I’m on my way now. I’m driving. I … I just can’t sit around and wait for tomorrow.”

“You’re driving through the night?” Jonathan sounded shocked. He looked out the window. The wind still howled around every corner of the house, shaking with an angry violence anything that it touched.

The man just nodded and folded the letter, putting it in his pocket.

“Would you like another driver?” Jonathan offered. But Mr. Woods shook his head.

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. But I appreciate it.”

“We’ll pray for your safety,” Jonathan added.

The man was turning to go when Virginia stepped forward. “Please—please,” she begged. “Keep us informed. And give Mindy hugs from us.”

“I will,” he promised and then he was gone.

“I’m sure Jenny is not allowing Mindy to write to us,” Jona? than said to the question in Virginia’s eyes after Mr. Woods left. “She probably said, ‘I’m going to write to Grandpa Woods,’ and Jenny must have let her.”

“And she forgot about putting a return address on the envelope,” Virginia added, thinking about the preaddressed envelopes Mindy had not been allowed to use. “Oh, Mindy,” she wept. “Our poor little girl. … ”

They held each other a long time.

It was two days before they heard anything. Two long, anguishing days. “I found them” were his first words when the phone call came. “It took me some time and I went down countless blind alleys—but I found them.”

“How is she?” Virginia asked, feeling both relieved and apprehensive.

His voice sobered. “Mindy was right. She is very ill.”

“How is Mindy?”

“She’s a real little soldier. Don’t know how she has man? aged for so long. Do you know she has been taking care of her mother for weeks? Jenny has been confined to her bed for almost two months.”

Virginia wanted to weep. Mindy was only a child. It wasn’t fair. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Finally she asked hopefully, “Have her prayers been answered?” She did not have to explain her question to Mr. Woods.

“No … ” he said soberly. “But Jenny is much, much more open, more mellow. I think she was even glad to see me. Relieved. She did not fight against me—at all. Made no resistance when I insisted we get her to the hospital. I think she knows … ” He stopped, then started again. “I think she knows it is near the end. She … she couldn’t not know. She’s so weak. So frail.”

“She’s in the hospital now?”

“She is.”

“And Mindy?”

“She’s here. She’d like to talk to you. Is that all right?”

“Oh, yes.” Virginia could hardly believe it. She prayed inwardly that she would be able to do more than weep over the phone.

Soon Mindy was on the line. “Hello, Mama.”

It was almost too much for Virginia. She fought for con? trol.

“Hello,” said Mindy again. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she finally was able to say.

“How are you?” asked Mindy, sounding very grown-up and concerned.

“We’re … we’re all … just fine. How are you, dear?” Virginia took a deep breath and began to get hold of her? self.

“I’m fine. Mama isn’t, though. She’s very sick.”

“I know. Your grandpa told me. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think she’s going to get better.”

“We’ll pray.”

“Mama … she still hasn’t asked Jesus to forgive her.” The child sounded very sad. “But … but last night she said … she said she wished she knew how. She wished she hadn’t been so stubborn. She said that. Does that count?”

“Yes, I think … I think that it’s a … a very good sign,” answered Virginia. “Perhaps she is … thinking seriously. We need to keep praying—”

“Mama,” Mindy stopped her. “There isn’t much time to pray for her any longer.”

It was all Virginia could do to finish the conversation. She assured the young girl that they were thinking of her. Had been praying for her. Loved her very much. She heard Mindy’s tearful good-bye. She wanted to go to her room and cry. Or pray. Or both.

Mr. Woods came back on the line after Mindy had said her good-bye. “I’ve been in touch with Reverend Black,” he said. “He promised to go over to see Jenny. He’s not even going to wait for morning—he said the hospital will let him in tonight.”

Virginia was greatly relieved.
Please, God
, she prayed, even as she continued to speak to Mr. Woods.
Give the pastor the right words. May your Holy Spirit take those words and make them believable for Jenny. Open her eyes to truth, Lord. To you
.

“I’ll call you,” said Mr. Woods. “I’ll keep you informed.”

“Yes. Please. Please. We will be so anxious to hear.”

The phone clicked. Virginia stood a long time holding the receiver against her heart.

Virginia jumped whenever the phone rang. One call was from her mother, asking if there had been any news. Then Clara called to let her know they were praying. Then her grand? mother.

The familiar voice and her years of experience, of faith in God during incredible sorrows and loss, made her words of encouragement particularly meaningful to Virginia.

“Oh, Grandma … ” Virginia’s voice broke. “I hardly know what to pray anymore. … ”

“God doesn’t ask fer us to know the right words, honey,” Marty said. “He only asks fer us to trust Him. And He knows even that isn’t easy all the time—when we can only see jest what’s around us.”

It was late afternoon before the call came that she had been expecting and dreading. Even so, Virginia felt the shock of its finality. “Jenny’s gone,” Mr. Woods said simply.

“It seems … it seems so soon,” Virginia murmured.

“Yes … we didn’t have much time.” There was a pause. “Here,” he said, “Mindy wants to talk to you.”

“Mama … ” Mindy was weeping and Virginia had to strain to make out her words. “Mama … she did it. Mama Jenny asked Jesus to forgive her.”

Virginia felt her knees go weak. “Honey—that’s wonderful news,” she was able to say. “I’m so glad.” But Mindy was crying so hard that her grandfather had to take the receiver again.

“She did,” he assured Virginia, though his voice was unsteady. “Pastor Black went through the Scriptures with her, and she made her peace with God. She … she even called me in and … and asked my forgiveness. Imagine that. She asked my forgiveness. I’m the one who needed to ask for hers.”

He was so broken he could hardly speak.

“It’s not been an easy life for my Jenny,” he eventually said, “but she’s at peace at last.”

So many emotions washed over Virginia. She was so happy. But she was very sad. She rejoiced, even as she sorrowed.
If only … if only
, her thoughts kept repeating.
If only she had done it years ago—had saved herself … and others … all of the years of pain. If only she had taken a different road
. Her friend Jenny with the bright red hair, the flashing green eyes, the quick wit and even quicker temper. Virginia had loved her. Had been exasperated with her. Had quarreled … had made up … had worried and admired and wished to shake her by the shoulders. Oh, if only … if only she had been able to say good-bye.

Mr. Woods was speaking again. “She wrote you a letter. At the last. She had to dictate it … but she wanted so much to let you know … how she felt. She struggled … with her last breath … to get it said. Then she … she had me take her hand and … and help her sign it. She was too weak … ” He couldn’t go on.

Virginia sank down onto a chair near the telephone, openly weeping.

A new voice came on the phone. Virginia recognized it immediately. “This is Pastor Black. How are you, Miss Simpson? No, it isn’t Miss Simpson anymore, is it? Forgive me.”