by Janette Oke
“I’m sorry,” she said instead. “I didn’t think about dresses.”
Jenny gave her a miffed look and flounced out the door with a toss of her head.
Virginia felt anger flush her cheeks. Right then her mother came into the room.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, Jenny. She left mad. She’s angry that I didn’t plan an inside ladies’ tea instead of a youthful party. She wants to wear her cream dress—the one that is flouncy and frilly so she can impress Jamison Curtis.”
Her mother stood looking at her with a puzzled face.
“She is so petty,” complained Virginia. Now that she had an outlet for her anger she was ready to express deeply buried feelings. “No matter what I do she wants it her way, and I have to give in just because I’m afraid she will leave the Youth Group and the church and not come back, and then she will never accept the Christian faith.” Virginia’s words tumbled over each other in their rush to be heard.
Her mother moved to stand beside her and slip an arm around her shoulders. “I know it’s … it’s easy to become impatient. Discouraged. But you have been sowing seeds. Little by little Jenny is hearing the truth. But sometimes … some? times we must work … and pray for many years for someone we care about. You must not give up, Virginia. Just keep on loving Jenny and trying your best to—”
“I’ve done everything I know to do, and she just … she just goes to church, goes to Youth Group, but keeps right on living the same old way, not changing one bit. She even swears yet. Ugly words. Papa would wash our mouths out with soap if we dared to say them.”
“She won’t change on the outside until she lets God change her on the inside. A heart change is what Jenny needs.”
“I know, but she just—she ignores that. She even makes fun of what Pastor Doyle says in his sermons. I think she really knows that she is a sinner. She knows she does wrong things. And she doesn’t care. Not a whit. All she thinks about is Jamison. The only reason she goes to church is so she can see him. She stands there and makes eyes at him and tries to get him to smile at her and—she’s shameless about it. It’s just—”
“She likes Jamison?”
“She’s crazy about him. He’s all she ever talks about anymore.”
“Does he like her?”
Virginia stopped her tirade and thought about her mother’s question. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Maybe. He does smile at her and talk to her—and he did spend a lot of time with her at the toboggan party.”
“The toboggan party was a long time ago.”
Virginia admitted that with a nod.
“It seems if Jamison really liked Jenny he would have let her know by now.”
“How?”
Her mother smiled. “Oh—boys have ways. Offer their help. Bring a little gift from The Sweet Shop. Maybe walk a girl home from church. Just hang around and talk. Jamison been doing things like that?”
“I don’t know. Jenny has hardly been around this summer. I’ve been too busy.”
“Would … would it … bother you if Jamison did?”
Virginia’s eyes came up. She felt her cheeks warm. Her mother had guessed her little secret. She didn’t have to answer the question.
“I thought so,” her mother continued softly. “Does Jamison know that you both like him?”
Virginia felt the tears sting her eyes. “No,” she said, quite certain of the fact. “I … I can’t let him know. Jenny would be so angry. So hurt.”
“You do have a difficult problem.”
Virginia said nothing. She fought to control the tears that wanted to come. She was much too old to be crying over trivial things.
“And you would—give up Jamison—rather than hurt Jenny?”
Virginia nodded glumly. “I—she’d never come to church again. I just know it.”
Her mother put both of her arms around Virginia and held her quietly for some time, then brushed the wispy curls from her face. “You have grown up far more than even I guessed, Virginia,” she whispered. “I’m proud of you, but a little worried, too. As your mother, I feel you are still much too young to be … plagued by this boy-girl thing. Clara was older before she began to think about courtships, and I guess your father and I expected … I wish you could put off all thoughts of … of boys, too, and just be one of the group for a long time yet.” She paused and searched her daughter’s face.
“But I fear you have already been thinking—well—it appears a little late for my motherly lecture. I still don’t want you … courting. Not yet. Your father would never allow it at your age.
“And you know that Jamison will be in his last year of school. He’s older—more mature. He might even think that he’s ready to … to start seeing a … a … someone. I don’t know. But whether he is, and whether it will be Jenny or … or perhaps … You really can’t decide such things. You see, it’s not just your life involved here. There is Jenny, and I’m glad you are so concerned about her—and there is Jamison. Virginia, you cannot make choices for him. If he doesn’t care for Jenny—in that way—your backing away is not going to fix things. And if Jamison should happen to care for you, you are still too young to think about—anything other than friendship. Friendship is a wonderful thing, Virginia, and I see no reason why Jamison couldn’t be friends with more than one girl at this time. It doesn’t have to be Jenny or you. It can be—well, it can be both of you, and others, as well.”
The carefully chosen words were being heard. It would be so much easier if that was the way it could really be. Virginia knew she would like to have Jamison as a friend.
The partygoers began to gather a little before six, coming in singles or little groups of two or three. The church youth group was less than twenty members, so it would not be a large crowd that gathered. On this night no members were missing. Everyone looked forward to a last summer party and a chance to help Virginia celebrate the missed birthday.
Jenny was already there when the others arrived. She had spent most of Saturday afternoon at the Simpsons, pretending to offer her services with the preparations. She wore the green dress that Clara had given her, and to Virginia she seemed overdressed, but she did look stunning. Virginia was sure that Jenny would get noticed.
Virginia offered to help her pin up her hair. It really wasn’t proper for a girl at her age to be swinging her hair freely with each toss of her head. At first Jenny looked offended, but as she eyed Virginia’s swept-up curls, the results of Clara’s careful pinning, she changed her mind.
“Just leave little strands loose over my ears,” she whispered when they were alone. “I do not have pretty ears. They are just like my pa’s.”
Virginia had never noticed, but as she pinned Jenny’s hair, she had to admit that Jenny’s ears were just a little too prominent to be attractive.
She let Jenny have her side curls, and as Jenny looked in the mirror, she seemed pleased with the result.
By the time the others arrived, Jenny acted as if she were the one who had come up with the idea of the upsweep. She tossed her red head until Virginia feared that the pins would fall out of place.
By the time Virginia’s father called that supper was ready, all were in attendance. Francine, though not old enough to join the Youth Group, was allowed to be a part of her sister’s celebration and took full advantage of the situation.
There was much laughter and good-natured teasing. Virginia caught Rodney giving a plate of food to pretty little Margie Warden. She remembered the words of her mother. Was Rodney announcing to the young girl that he was interested in beginning a relationship? But Rodney was a bit older even than Jamison, and Margie was—well—she was close to seventeen. Maybe her folks would allow her to be courted at sixteen years. Or maybe she and Rodney would just sort of make eyes at each other until they were old enough to really be serious.
Virginia was unwrapping a cob of hot corn when she felt someone
brush against her elbow. “Let me give you a hand,” came a warm male voice that Virginia recognized at once as belonging to Jamison. Her first reaction was to cast a nervous glance toward Jenny. The girl was flirting outlandishly with Ken Troyer, every now and then casting a sideways glance toward Jamison in case he was watching.
Virginia’s next thought was to move slowly away, declining the kind offer. Then she remembered the words of her mother. They could be friends. It would be silly to refuse a friendship with Jamison just because Jenny had decided to set her cap for him. She smiled.
“Thank you,” she said, blowing on the fingers of one hand. “It’s hot.”
Jamison took the cob and finished the unwrapping. “Did you get butter?” he asked as he placed it on her plate.
“Not yet, but I will.”
“I’ll get it for you. Salt and pepper?”
“Just salt. I don’t much like pepper.”
He was soon back with the salt shaker.
To Virginia’s surprise he motioned to the log bench that had been set up for the occasion.
“There’s room there. Shall we sit?”
Virginia nodded.
“Nice that things have finally settled down so you can enjoy your birthday,” he commented as they sat and began work on the cold chicken and hot corn.
Virginia nodded again. She felt a little tongue-tied.
“Your grandfather is much better, I hear.”
Another nod.
“Bet you’re relieved.”
Virginia finally found her tongue. “We are. We feared that we might lose him, or that he’d be—you know—sort of … crippled.” Virginia wondered if Jamison considered a man with only one leg already crippled.
“And it’s so good to have Mama back home again, too,” Virginia went on.
“I don’t know how you managed it—with schooling and the cooking and all.”
Virginia grimaced. “Well, I’m glad it’s over, I can truth? fully state.”
They talked of other things. Virginia found herself forgetting her nervousness. It was easy to talk to Jamison. Her mother had been right. They could be friends.
“Want another cob?”
“No, thank you. I’d never have room for cake, and I probably should eat a piece of my own birthday cake.” They both laughed. “But you go ahead,” she said. “I know how much Rodney and Danny can put away. Papa says it’s like trying to fill up a sinkhole. No end to it.”
Jamison laughed as though her comment was terribly witty. Virginia smiled.
It was a wonderful party. All around her was laughter and teasing as the people of her Youth Group enjoyed the evening together and the delicious food that her mama and Clara had provided.
Birthday cake and ice cream followed. They were all so full they could hardly start the planned games.
Two members of the group had been asked to plan the evening’s fun time. They were wise enough to start with slower activities, allowing their supper to settle a bit before becoming a little more boisterous. Virginia was not the only one who was thankful to ease into the activities.
As the evening wore on, Virginia realized that more and more often she turned to find Jamison close beside her, offering to assist her, holding a chair, asking if she wanted more of her grandmother’s fruit cider. It began to feel natural to have him by. And then through the maze of bodies, Virginia’s brown eyes met the green eyes of Jenny. They cast a clear message across the distance that separated them. Jenny looked furious. She reached up and tore the pins from her long red hair, shaking it out with deliberate rebellion. It was her little message to Virginia that she no longer wanted to have anything to do with her. Neither have friendship nor her assistance.
Virginia felt her stomach tighten. If Jenny was throwing aside their friendship—just like she threw the unwanted hair pins in the thick grass of the Simpson backyard—would she also discard the church? The Youth Group? Virginia felt deep apprehension sweep all through her body.
CHAPTER 19
You are some friend.”
Jenny’s words were hot and accusatory. The others had all left for home. Only Jenny stood, facing Virginia, eyes flaming, hair in disarray around her shoulders. Virginia bit her lip.
“You know how I feel about Jamison.”
That was true. Jenny had not kept her feelings a well-guarded secret.
“But I—”
“You openly chased him all evening.”
This did send words tumbling out. “I did no such thing. You’ve no call to make such a totally untruthful statement. You were the one doing all of the flirting. You practically threw yourself at—”
But Virginia’s words were halted as Jenny’s hand slapped sharply across her cheek. Jenny looked as surprised at the action as Virginia, who raised a trembling hand to her stinging face.
Jenny quickly recovered. “I’ll never speak to you again, Virginia. You pretend to be a friend … a … a perfect little saint, and then you go and double-cross like that.”
Virginia was still rubbing the smarting cheek. Her eyes were tear-filled and her throat tight. She had never been struck across the cheek before. She felt confused. Along with the pain was anger and humiliation and an underlying desire for retaliation. Virginia took a deep breath and prayed for control.
“I did nothing,” she managed to say firmly, blinking back tears. “Nothing but be a friend to a boy whom I have known for many years. If that offends you, Jenny, I’m sorry. I have tried—” She stopped to draw a breath so she could go on. “I have tried to … to be your friend, too, Jenny. Honestly I have. If it hasn’t been enough for you—again, I’m sorry.”
Virginia stopped and took a deep breath. What could she say to Jenny? What would wipe away the intense anger? “I … I will be happy to continue our friendship—if you wish. That’s entirely up to you. But I … I cannot let you dictate my life. I have to be free to make my own choices. I will still pray for you. Will hope that you will want to find peace with God. But I … I cannot throw away all other friendships just—just to please you.”
Jenny stood listening, one emotion after another sweeping across her face. When Virginia ended the speech, Jenny’s anger pressed forward once again.
“You’ll see him again?”
“I see him every Sunday.”
“You know I’m not talking about church.”
“As a friend—yes. If he wishes.”
Jenny’s eyes blazed.
“As a friend? Hah.”
“As a friend.”
Jenny looked as if she wished she could reach out and slap the other cheek. Her eyes were smoldering. “You stupid—” She added a couple words that Virginia did not understand. Did not wish to understand. They were spit out like venom. “That’s not how he sees it. He likes you.”
Virginia could only stare.
Jenny wheeled to go. But as she was leaving she turned for one last shot. “And I hope they string up your dear ole Loony Marshall. They’ve taken him in, you know. They found the stolen goods in his room.”
“Is it true, Papa?”
Virginia, trembling, stood in front of her father. The deep agitation in her voice caused him to lower The Weekly Chronicle, and he raised his eyes to hers.
“Is it true? Has the sheriff really arrested Rett?”
He nodded slowly, laid aside the paper, and reached for her hand.
“Did they really find the things in his room?”
He was slow in replying. When he did speak it was not to answer her question. “Virginia, I’m sorry that you’ve heard about this tonight. Your mother and I had hoped you could enjoy your birthday party without—well, without being troubled by all the—”
“Then it’s true.”
He nodded.
“Where is he?”
“In the local jail.”
“That will kill him—being locked up like that.”
“He’s having a hard time, yes.”
“Where’s his crow?”
�
��Danny has him.”
“That’s Rett’s crow out there?”
Her father nodded.
All the guests had shown interest in Danny’s little collection of pens and recuperating animals and birds. Many of the pens were now empty, but Danny was happy to tell them of the former occupants that had now gone back to the wilds. Someone had questioned Danny about the crow, which looked perfectly healthy.
“When you gonna let him go?” they had questioned, but Danny had seemed evasive.
“Don’t know,” he had answered and passed on to another pen. Now Virginia understood the conversation. It was Rett’s crow in the backyard pen. Danny would not be returning him to freedom. Not until things were settled with Rett.
“You don’t think he did it, do you?”
Her father looked away for a moment.
“Do you?”
“What I think does not stand up in a court of law, Virginia. They deal with evidence. And the evidence is pretty strong against Rett. I … it’s going to be a hard task to defend him. Especially when he cannot defend himself.”
“You mean they did find the stuff in his room?”
Her father nodded.
“But that doesn’t mean he put it there.”
“It seems strange that it would get there another way.”
“But it could have happened.”
“Anything is possible.”
“Maybe his crow?”
“I’ve thought of that. The landlady has refused to let the crow in the room.”
“Maybe Rett sneaked it in—through the open window.” “There’s a solid screen on that window.”
“Who cleans his room?”
Her father drew a deep breath. “Look, my dear, I know you find all this very upsetting, but it is late, and we are not going to solve this problem tonight. I’m working on it. I’ll do all I can.”
“Jenny says she hopes they string him up.”
“Well, there won’t be any lynching. I can promise you that.”
“What will they do with him?”
