by Janette Oke
Virginia thought long and hard before she slowly nodded her head. With her mother’s calm voice easing away her anxious thoughts the words seemed logical—even acceptable. She nodded slowly.
“All we ask is that you obey the rules. Is that so difficult?”
Virginia shook her head. It really wasn’t that bad. There weren’t too many rules.
“We want you to report home after school. To ask permission before going off on some … some venture of your own.”
She nodded again.
“You are to do your own chores—not pass them off on Clara.”
So her mother knew about the missed chores, too.
“Your misconduct affects our entire family. Francine has worried herself sick that you might get into trouble.”
Now Francine. Her mother even knew about that. Virginia swallowed hard and nodded again.
“Am I?” she asked at length.
“Are you what?”
“Going to get into trouble?” The words were difficult to force out.
“Yes. Yes, I guess you will. You have disobeyed. You know our family’s rules. Disobedience has consequences—right?”
Virginia swallowed again. She had been foolish to suppose she could get away without any punishment.
“What?” she asked when her mother did not go on.
“I really don’t know yet. Your father and I have not worked it through. What do you think it should be?”
Virginia frowned. She had never been invited to propose her own punishment before. She wondered for a moment if her mother was serious. A glance at her face assured Virginia that she was.
“I … I don’t know. Maybe … maybe …” She could not think. She was very unwilling to condemn herself to a harsh punishment. But on the other hand, she should not be too lenient. The punishment must fit the crime, her lawyer father often stated. He had tried hard to practice the principle within his own household. To suggest some light penalty for what her folks saw as a serious offense would be to admit that she was not mature enough to make a reasonable judgment.
“I … I really don’t know,” she finished lamely.
“It is not easy,” acknowledged her mother. “One never takes pleasure in disciplining one’s children.” She hesitated, then went on, “However, I am grateful, as your father will be, that you came to us with your confession. That will lessen the punishment, though not erase it.”
Virginia nodded. She wanted to cry, but she really was too old for that. Still, it would feel so much better if she could throw herself into her mother’s arms and weep against her shoulder.
She still had to face punishment. Should she have just kept quiet and pretended that nothing had happened? No—her folks already knew. They already were talking, praying about which direction to take, and her mother was even planning to talk with Grandma. Oh, she hoped with all her heart that she had avoided that.
“You won’t talk to Grandma now, will you?” She had to ask.
“You don’t wish for me to speak with Grandma?”
Virginia shook her head. Her mother seemed to think about it for some time before she responded with a nod. “Very well. I will not talk with Grandma about it—this time.”
Virginia felt relief.
“You’d best get to bed. It’s late. Do you think you can sleep now?” There was concern in her mother’s voice.
Virginia nodded silently. She thought that maybe now she could sleep. At least she would try.
Her mother’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she leaned over to place a kiss on Virginia’s forehead. “Good night, then,” she said, and Virginia knew that she was dismissed.
At the door she turned back and spoke once more.
“Mama.” She hesitated. She could feel the tears again threatening to spill and thought of Francine and her unusual ability to cry. She willed the tears away and lifted her chin slightly.
Her mother’s head had lifted from the book she had picked up again. She waited.
“I’m sorry.” Virginia’s voice faltered.
A look of intense relief washed over her mother’s face. Then a smile followed, illuminated by the light of the parlor lamp. “Oh, I’m glad to hear you say that. I feared those words would never come.”
As Virginia turned away, she wondered if her mother’s hand was brushing away tears of her own.
“The boys are going to the creek after school.”
The message had been slipped to Virginia on a small scrap of paper and smuggled across the aisle under cover of a passed eraser. Virginia read the words and then scrunched the note up into a little ball that she let fall into her sweater pocket. She pretended to use the eraser before passing it back across the aisle to its owner. But she avoided Jenny’s eyes. She knew what the note meant. Jenny was asking her to join the boys at the creek. There wouldn’t be time to run home first and get her mother’s permission. Even if there was, Virginia was rather sure that her mother would not okay such an outing. The local public soda shop was one thing, the wooded creek bank quite another.
Yet she longed to go. She knew it would be fun. The small creek that passed near the town would be brimming with spring runoff. Most of the ice would be gone. There might even be pussy willows along the banks. And frogs, fresh up from their long winter’s sleep.
There would most surely be daring. Fun and frolic as one boy tried to outdo another. Virginia could almost visualize it. Feats of log-walking, good-natured pushing, dares to challenge patches of remaining ice. Maybe even chases with squawking frogs or slimy garter snakes. Yes, it would be such fun.
She knew without even looking up that Jenny was waiting for her answer. All she had to do was to lift her head and give a brief nod. That would assure Jenny that she was in.
But she couldn’t lift her head—or nod. A funny little sick feeling curled itself into the pit of her stomach, twisting up as in a tight fist, making her squirm with the discomfort. She couldn’t go. Jenny would be angry. They would all think her a sissy. But she couldn’t go. No amount of fun was worth what she had been through when she had disobeyed last week. She was still assigned every other night of supper dishes and the Saturday duty of sweeping the walks. She hated sweeping the walks. Especially in the spring when so many people clumped along the wooden boards with boots cluttered with spring mud and clinging with last fall’s leaves.
She continued to work at the sums that had been their assignment. Her face felt strangely hot, her concentration zero.
She felt her elbow nudged. Jenny was again passing her eraser. If she kept it up, she’d be getting them both in trouble.
With eyes still on the page before her, Virginia accepted the eraser, making sure that her fingers fully supported the note she knew would be hidden underneath. With one glance toward the front of the room to make sure the teacher’s back was turned, she slipped out the small paper. Jenny’s writing was so small that Virginia’s brow puckered as she tried to sort out the words.
“What’s wrong? Are you coming or not?” The paper almost seemed to burn her fingers.
She knew she had to answer then, but she hated to face Jenny’s eyes. She knew they would be filled with anger. Jenny could be nasty when she was put off.
Virginia shook her head with one quick, little sideways motion as she handed the eraser back across the aisle. For just one moment she looked at Jenny. The green eyes flashed back their reply. Jenny was not at all pleased. Virginia turned back to her work, her stomach in even more knots.
Another nudge on the elbow. The eraser was coming back again. Virginia was tempted to ignore it, but she was afraid Jenny would make a scene that would attract the attention of the teacher. Without looking Jenny’s way she held out her hand, palm up. Jenny placed the eraser and the note in the center of Virginia’s hand and gave her little finger a sharp pinch. Virginia almost gasped.
“Maybe I need to get a new friend” read the terse note.
Virginia’s inner turmoil made her feel physically sick. The
last thing she wanted was to lose Jenny. Jenny with her flaming hair, her dancing eyes, and her infectious giggle. Jenny with her commanding ways and know-it-all looks. Jenny with her anger when crossed and strong rules of rightful leadership. Virginia had felt so smug about being chosen as Jenny’s friend. It had given her status at her school that she had not enjoyed before. If she lost Jenny, she would be right back where she had started. Just another one of the class. Just a nobody. A nothing.
But if she went along with the scheme? What then? She would be in trouble at home again. Her mama would most surely have that talk with her grandma. Maybe even her grandpa would be brought into it. She could not face that. Couldn’t stand to see disappointment shadow the love in their eyes.
It was a difficult decision. A tough one to make in the middle of arithmetic class. She did wish that Jenny had left the matter until after school when she could talk it through with? out the worry of getting caught. But she knew Jenny wanted her answer now.
Throwing caution to the wind, she flipped over the small scrap of paper and wrote in equally small letters, “I can’t tonight. Ask me another time.” She pressed the note tightly up against the eraser, checked the front of the room for the teacher, and handed them both back across the aisle. Jenny was no more pleased with this message than she had been with the shake of the head. She frowned, then gave a slight shrug of her shoulders, as though to inform Virginia that she was the loser. And she would be sorry.
The day was definitely spoiled for Virginia. She knew that no matter what happened for the rest of it, nothing would make things right. She was going to miss out on a lot of fun. Jenny was mad at her. The boys would think she was stuffy. Nothing was going right. Nothing.
“Virginia?”
The teacher’s voice interrupted her distracted reverie, and her head jerked up sharply. She was being called upon in class, and she had not even heard the question. She felt her face flush as snickers began to pass around the room.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to stutter. “I … I didn’t hear the question.”
The snickers turned to loud guffaws. Miss Crook thumped the end of the pointer on the floor to summon attention.
“If the rest of you had been as intent upon finishing your arithmetic assignment as Virginia was, you would have no cause for your merriment,” the teacher reprimanded.
Virginia’s face flushed an even deeper crimson. It was not her arithmetic that had her full attention.
“I asked for the solution to question number seven,” the teacher went on. The titters among class members had stopped. Only silence filled the chalk-smelling air.
Virginia let her glance fall to her page. With deep relief she saw that she had completed number seven. She lifted her book, slid to the side of her desk, and stood to her feet. With careful concentration she worked her way orally through the arithmetic problem. When she reached the end, she lifted her eyes briefly to observe the teacher’s response. She fervently hoped that she had completed the question correctly.
“Well done, Virginia,” the teacher stated with a satisfied little thump of the pointer end on the wooden floor. “William—problem eight.”
Virginia sank into her desk. She felt as if she had just faced one of her father’s juries and been found “not guilty.” Relief flooded her whole frame. Until she cast a quick glance Jenny’s way. Her friend was still glowering. There was no ready commendation there.
CHAPTER 4
Jenny did not give up easily. She was waiting on the school steps when Virginia left the building. Virginia’s step lagged as she spotted her friend among the little cluster that lounged together. There were three boys, along with Jenny and Ruth Riant. Virginia felt her heart sink. Had Jenny already picked a new friend to replace her?
When Jenny looked up and called, Virginia forced a smile and started forward again.
“I thought you had already gone,” she offered lamely.
“Thought you might change your mind,” responded Jenny.
Virginia frowned. Jenny was really making it hard for her. All three of the boys lifted their heads and studied Virginia’s face. She took the stares as a challenge. Was she, or wasn’t she, one of the group?
It was so tempting to just go along with them. Take the consequences when she got home. But Virginia held back. It was the vision of her grandmother’s face, with disappointment darkening her eyes, that held Virginia in check. “I can’t,” she managed. “I already told you.”
“Well, you’re gonna miss a lot of fun,” Jenny thrust at her with a toss of her red hair. She threw in a shocking curse to emphasize her point. Virginia could only stare. With a howl of laughter, Jenny led her little entourage down the steps to the street that led out of town toward the woods and Carson Creek. Virginia stood and watched them go. Already they were teasing and laughing and calling out comments to one another.
Her heart ached. With all her being she longed to be a part of the crowd. She was tempted to call, “Hey, wait!” and hurry off down the street to join them. But her voice choked up and her feet refused to move. She stood until they disappeared around the corner, her face hot with emotion, her angry thoughts whirling round and round. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that her folks were so … so stuffy. They didn’t let her have any fun. She couldn’t even get out of their sight. They thought she was still a child.
Virginia started the slow walk home, her mood anything but light. All the way along the board sidewalk she fumed, kicking at small stones, deliberately scuffing the toes of her new black boots. She took pleasure in telling herself all the unreasonableness of her parents. All the privileges that each of her siblings enjoyed. All the unfairness of life. By the time she reached her own street, she was convinced that she had the hardest lot of any person in town. Probably the whole county. Maybe even the entire world.
“What’s got yer tail in a knot?”
Virginia jumped at the sound of the voice. Mr. Adamson was leaning on his picket fence peering over at her. His dirty shirt had a distinct new stain. Virginia wondered if he had spilled his morning coffee.
“I didn’t see you,” she responded.
“No—reckon ya didn’t. Thet heavy cloud hangin’ over yer head likely kept ya from seein’ anythin’ else.”
Without thinking, Virginia looked upward. The elderly man began to chuckle. Her face flushed when she realized that he had been teasing her.
“Somethin’ go wrong?”
How could she tell the old neighbor man that just about everything was wrong? Here she was on her way home when her friends were all down at the creek having fun. Their parents trusted them. They were allowed to grow up. It wasn’t fair.
“Well—?”
Virginia tossed her head. “It’s just—well, my folks—”
“Ah …” said the old gent with a nod of his head in understanding. “Folks. They can be a real burden, all right.”
Virginia watched as the old man took off his beat-up hat and scratched his balding head. His silvery locks were now darkened. Virginia supposed that the hair was not washed any oftener than the shirt.
“I remember when I was a lad,” the man went on. “Had me the most disagreeable father. We never did see eye to eye—until I got in my twenties. Suddenly the old fella got smarter about things. By the time I hit forty he’d really learned him a lot.” The words were followed by a chuckle, but Virginia did not find the comment amusing. She knew exactly what the elderly man was trying to say.
“I don’t expect my mama and papa to improve much,” she said abruptly.
“Don’t ya now? Well …” He flipped off the hat and scratched his head again. Virginia watched as the garden dirt from his fingers liberally deposited itself on the thinning hair. No wonder the silver had turned dull.
“Give ’em time. Jest give ’em a little time,” the old man advised. “Even old dogs can learn new tricks—iffen they have a good teacher.”
“Well, they sure don’t learn from me,” Virginia grumbled.
“From you? No. I expect maybe they don’t. Ya see, thet ain’t really the role of younguns, as I’ve got it sorted out.”
His words were not condemning, and Virginia found it hard to take offense. She was on the verge of asking what he thought the role of youngsters was when he abruptly changed the subject.
“Got some tulips blooming.”
He looked so pleased that she could not help but respond. “The pretty striped ones?”
“No, they come a little later. It’s the bright reds. A few yellowers are just ready to pop, as well. Another day or two of sun and I’ll have a bouquet for ya. Stop by on Friday. They oughta be ready by then.”
Virginia nodded. She liked the bright tulips. They were a wonderful reminder that winter’s snows were finally gone.
With a nod the elderly man turned away. He picked up his hand trowel and turned back to the flower beds. Virginia could tell that he regarded their little discussion over for the day. With slow steps she moved off toward home.
But even though she was still upset, she could not work up the same sense of injustice. Something had derailed her line of thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t still wish to be with the others having fun down at the creek. But she just couldn’t get quite so angry over the fact that she was not.
She entered the house to the smell of fresh-baked bread. Her mother was there. Francine and Danny were already seated at the kitchen table, tall glasses of cold milk set before them and slices of fresh bread liberally covered with strawberry preserves disappearing quickly. Her mother smiled. “Welcome home.” With a nod of her head she indicated the spot where Virginia’s milk and bread were already waiting for her.
For one moment Virginia was tempted to say, “No thanks,” and head on to her bedroom to sulk. But the bread smelled so good and she was suddenly so hungry that she checked herself. As she lowered her books to the corner of the table and slid into the chair, Francine spoke up excitedly.
“Uncle Luke is coming for supper.”
Virginia adored her uncle Luke. It was hard to suppress her own enthusiasm. She flicked a look in her mother’s direction to verify Francine’s statement, even though she knew that Francine would not be telling a lie.
