by Janette Oke
“I think that fellow is trying to catch your eye,” whispered Francine, nodding toward a seat somewhere behind and to the side of Virginia. “He’s been staring at you ever since he sat down.”
“Don’t be silly,” responded Virginia, jerked back to the present. In spite of her words, she felt her face flushing.
“He is,” insisted Francine. “He keeps waiting for you to look his way.”
“I have no intention of looking his way,” muttered Virginia with determination and a lift of her chin.
“He’s rather handsome.”
Virginia’s chin lifted higher.
“He has dark wavy hair, deep brown eyes, a little cleft in his chin .. .”
It sounded as though Francine was describing Jamison. It was all Virginia could do to keep from spinning around to look.
“And a scar—just above his eyebrow.”
Jamison had no scar above his eyebrow. Unless . . . Surely Jamison had not been hurt playing football. In spite of herself Virginia turned around and met the brown eyes that Francine had described. They were not Jamison’s. The young man nodded, gave a triumphant smile and a slight wave of his hand.
Virginia’s cheeks flamed as she whipped back to face her sister.
“Francine,” she whispered harshly, “stop looking at him. You are just encouraging him. . . .”
“He’s coming over.”
“Don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking. He’s coming over. Coke and all.”
Virginia did not even have time to respond.
“Excuse me,” a smooth voice said. He was right beside her. “Can you tell me where the Chem Lab is?”
Virginia was forced to look up into the brown eyes again. She felt her face flush and reached self-consciously to slip her feet back into the shoes she had discarded. One toe found its desired destination, but stretch as she could and reach as far as she might, Virginia’s other searching foot came up empty.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she fumbled and wasn’t sure if she was describing her predicament in locating her shoe or her ignorance regarding the Chem Lab.
“You don’t take Chem?”
He was sliding into the booth beside her. Virginia had never experienced such forwardness.
“No,” she managed.
“So what do you take? I thought you might be in the nursing faculty.”
“No.”
“Education?”
Virginia shook her head.
“We are just visiting,” put in Francine, seeming to have more sense and better use of her tongue than her older sister.
“Visiting?” The young stranger’s eyes had not left Virginia’s face.
She nodded and tried to swallow. He was making her nervous, though he seemed harmless enough.
He smiled, showing even, white teeth. “For a long, long time I hope.”
“Actually,” said Francine, “just for today.”
“That’s a shame.”
He pushed his unfinished Coke aside. “Then if your stay is so short,” he continued in his easy manner, “perhaps I could
have the pleasure of showing you around.”
Virginia began to shake her head but no words came.
“The Chem Lab?” asked Francine coyly, tipping her head to the side and giving him a knowing look.
His attention focused on the younger sister. He looked genuinely amused. He even laughed, a cheery, chuckling laugh. “Okay,” he said, throwing up his hands. “So you caught me. Yeah, I know where the Chem Lab is. And lots of other things, too. I’m a junior. Been here long enough to know my way around campus.”
He turned back to Virginia. “So how about it? I even know a few places that aren’t on the campus map.”
Virginia was still shaking her head.
“Our brother has already shown us around,” Francine informed him. “He showed us around until my feet felt ready to fall off.”
But the young man was still looking at Virginia. “And you? Are your feet still okay? I know a real good place to rest them.”
Virginia thought of the still shoeless foot under the table. For a frantic moment she feared he might take a peek under the table and discover her secret. She drew her foot back, hoping that it was hidden under her skirts.
“We’re to wait here,” said Francine. “Dad, Mom, Rodney, and Danny will soon be back, and we are going out for dinner.”
“Whew. You sure don’t travel light.” He seemed about ready to stand to his feet. He turned to Virginia again. “Is . . . is one of those guys your . . . boyfriend?”
Virginia shook her head. “Brothers,” she said with some emphasis.
“Good,” he replied and settled back again.
“Her boyfriend attends Webster College,” filled in Francine.
Virginia finally found her tongue. “He’s a Webster Web-spinner. Quarterback.”
The fellow cocked an eyebrow. “Figured there would be a boyfriend somewhere.” He shrugged. “But Webster is a lo-o-o-ng way from here. My offer still holds. Like to see a little of the town tonight?”
Virginia was shocked.
“Of course not,” she responded indignantly. “Even if . . . even if I knew you—which I don’t—and . . . and liked the places you’d take me, I still wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t step out on Jamison.”
“Jamison?” He reached out a hand to twist his Coke glass. “Jamison,” he repeated. Then he lifted his eyes as he hoisted himself up from the seat and looked directly at Virginia. “The way I see it, it’s really okay. I mean, I’ve got a girl back home, too. But that’s not much help to me now, is it? Guy has to have some fun. Can’t sit around like a monk. And she doesn’t expect me to. She’s more realistic than that.” He shrugged. “But then—guess some girls can be pretty narrow-minded.”
Then he was gone before Virginia could gather her wits to vehemently respond.
CHAPTER 3
They attended Rodney’s church the next morning, and the experience provided conversation for much of the train ride home. Virginia knew her parents were impressed with the pastor and his morning message and were relieved to know that Rodney and his faith were in good hands.
Virginia herself felt exhausted. The weekend had been a busy one, and they were all tired. But that was not the only reason she felt edgy and drained. There was something about this new crowd of youth that disturbed her. Something in the riotous laughter that sometimes rang false. In the coarse language that was bandied about, not even hushed out of deference for nearby ears. Something about the whole scene unsettled her. Not the least was her experience with the young man at the soda fountain. She could not follow his reasoning. Had never been exposed to such thinking before. Did some people really think it didn’t matter whether one was true to one’s commitments or not? It was a distressing thought.
Virginia tried to push aside her uneasiness and think instead about the fun it would be to share her adventures with Jenny the next day at school.
Jenny wavered between university and moving to the city for a job. One week she would be all enthused about going out to some big school and sharing in the experiences of other young people. The next week she declared that she was through with books and classes. She was just going to get herself a job and take control of her own life. Virginia felt constant confusion where Jenny was concerned. Virginia longed to see Jenny settled—at peace with God, with life, with herself. Only a deep, true faith would do that for her friend, Virginia was sure. But Jenny, who did go to church sporadically, pushed aside all of Virginia’s pleadings and invitations.
Virginia often grieved over Jenny and her careless, carefree attitude about life. But she would not give up on the girl, and it was to Jenny that she went with her bits of girl-to-girl sharing. At least Jenny could get excited over girl things.
Should I tell Jenny about the fellow in the soda shop? she debated.
Yes. Jenny would certainly be intrigued by the whole event and probably would squeal with excitement.
> No, she changed her mind. Jenny would wonder why in the world she hadn’t responded to his open and unexpected invitation.
She would not talk about the incident with Jenny. Jenny saw their world through different eyes. Much like the young man who had slipped, uninvited, into the booth beside her. Had Jenny been given the invitation by a good-looking young man . . . Virginia squirmed on her train seat. Suddenly some things fell into place in her thinking. What she had seen as so abnormal and inappropriate was quite normal for one sector of society. What she always had been unable to understand about Jenny would be totally accepted in many quarters by a vast number of their peers.
It was difficult for Virginia to come to terms with this new standard. Protected as she had been in her own family and small town, she had never really had to face truly immoral behavior. Now she realized that what made Jenny and her outrageous speech and action stand out in their hometown crowd would also make her a good fit with other groups of young people. Jenny was not unusual in her attitudes and actions. Perhaps— just perhaps—Jenny was more in step with the world at large than she herself. The thought was a new and startling one and made Virginia cringe.
Oh, God, she inwardly cried. I don’t think I want to go to college. It’s so . . . so scary. So wicked.
Immediately Virginia realized that God was not absent from the university campus—even though many of the attendees were unaware of His presence. Rodney was doing fine. He had found a church home. A good pastor. A great group of young people. He was growing in his faith and finding his own basis for what he believed, even when the professors presented different teachings. Rodney knew God was with him.
And Jamison was fine, too. He wrote about how he prayed before each football game—not that he would win, but that he would play well and not get hurt. That no one would get hurt. Why, a few other players even slipped over beside him now and asked him to pray for them, also. And Jamison had a church family. Rather unconventional perhaps, but they were stretching him, forcing him to strengthen his faith. That’s what Jamison said. Jamison was doing fine. No—it wasn’t the place—it was the individual. One could find God on the university campus just as easily as anywhere else if one had a mind to search for Him.
Virginia’s thumping heart was quieted. She need not fear. God would be with her wherever she went. The secret was in being conscious of Him and remembering His promises. Proverbs 29:25, a little voice deep inside seemed to be saying. Remember the verse? Grandma Marty taught it to you when you were afraid of the dark. Oh yes. “The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe.”
Of course she need not fear—wherever she was—if she just followed the admonition of the verse and trusted the Lord.
If only she could help Jenny to understand that.
———
Virginia said very little to Jenny about her trip to the city university. She stated that they had gone to visit Rodney, and before Jenny could start plying questions, she had quickly moved on to another topic of conversation. “Are you coming to Youth Group? We’re having an autumn party at the pastor’s house. Well . . . yard, actually, if Indian summer stays around. I expect a good turnout. All the kids love the autumn party. There’s lots to eat—that usually brings the fellows. And that,” she laughed, “usually brings the girls.”
Jenny laughed too. “Sure, why not?” she responded. “I’ve been bored out of my mind lately. There is absolutely nothing to do in this dead town. I’ll be so glad when this school year is over and I can get out of here. Some place where people actually live.”
Virginia thought of the university crowd, and a funny little fear shot through her again. She shrugged her shoulders to dismiss both Jenny’s comment and the thought, and then decided to speak. “You know—I’ve been thinking. For those who don’t have faith—don’t know God is with them—there seems to be, well, an emptiness they need to try to fill with something. Excitement. Adventure. Pleasure. Anything, really. I don’t find this little town boring at all.”
Jenny gave her a scathing look. “You are one strange creature, Virginia Simpson. I’ve no idea why you’re willing to substitute your God for all those other things.”
“When you know God—He is all those things,” she said simply.
“Your God is about the furthest thing from excitement or adventure or pleasure that anyone—or anything—could get.”
The fire in Jenny’s eyes and voice made Virginia tremble inside.
“But you’re wrong. You’ve never tried to find out.”
Jenny sniffed her disbelief. “He’s God,” she said emphatically.
“Of course He is.”
“Then you tell me how the God who considers anything that is fun as evil can bring any pleasure.”
“Jenny, there are lots of fun things that aren’t evil.”
“Name one,” Jenny challenged.
“Well, the autumn party, for example.” Virginia was relieved to have come up with one so easily.
Jenny snorted her disdain. “You call that fun? It’s childish, that’s what it is. Pure child’s play. Food. A few silly games. Maybe a little harmless flirting. You don’t even know what real fun is.”
Virginia was taken aback. “And you,” she threw back at Jenny, “are so . . . so blinded that you can’t enjoy simple, pleasurable things. You think that you need . . . need . . .” But Virginia could not come up with the needs of Jenny. In truth she had no knowledge of what the likes of Jenny might be needing to make something seem fun. It was totally foreign to Virginia. She flushed at her own ignorance.
“You are such a child,” responded Jenny. “Someday you need to grow up, Virginia.”
Virginia wanted to respond with as caustic a reply as Jenny’s, but suddenly her concern for Jenny’s spiritual state swept through her being and stopped her angry retort. With a great deal of feeling she replied softly, “And I pray that someday you might become as a little child,” she said instead. “Jesus said that we must if we are to enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Jenny’s answer was another indignant sniff before she flounced away in a huff.
———
Virginia’s next letter to Jamison was much different than her abbreviated report to Jenny about their trip. Page after page filled up with the visit to Rodney. She told of the poky train, of the disappointing hotel, of the campus with its long walks and confusing, same-looking buildings. She shared her feelings about the soda fountain and the noisy students who poured in and out, seeking company from like-minded souls looking for empty amusement. She still was too confused and embarrassed by the incident with the fellow who was so forward and brash to make more than a vague mention of it. She told of visiting the church where Rodney attended and how pleased her mother and father had been to know that Rodney had found one similar to their own hometown church.
Then she wrote of Jenny and her reaction to the invitation to Youth Group. “She still doesn’t understand,” Virginia wrote. “If only I could find the right words to explain it to her. She thinks that life is all about fun and doesn’t know where real enjoyment can be found. Sometimes I get so angry with her, and yet I feel so sorry for her all at the same time. It rather frightens me. I wonder just what might happen to her in life if she doesn’t change her thinking and her ways. Really, I am scared that Jenny might destroy herself. And I feel helpless to do anything to stop her.”
As always, she ended by saying that she could not wait until Christmas break when he would again be home and they could spend long hours together, sharing their thoughts and feelings in person rather than by mail.
By the time Virginia folded the letter, it was all she could do to get it into the envelope.
———
Clara’s pregnancy was not going well. The first months were spent being so sick that she lost weight rather than gained. Doc Luke, their uncle, was concerned enough that he decided she should go to a city clinic to see if she could get some help. The arrangements were
made, and Troy, her husband, took her by train to see what could be done.
Five days later she was home again. “The doctors said there is nothing to do but to wait,” she announced disconsolately. “Hopefully things will settle down before too long.”
But things did not settle down. Clara seemed to look thinner and weaker by the day. At last she was forced to spend much of her time in bed, and Virginia rotated with her mother in dropping over to prepare meals and do the laundry and cleaning.
And then one night Virginia was returning home, tired after spending the evening with Clara, when she overheard a conversation from the back hall that brought her steps to a halt and her heart to pounding.
“If that baby ever makes it, it will be a wonder,” Virginia heard her father say.
“I worry about Clara. She is so thin and pale,” her mother responded. “If the baby comes to term, I fear she will not have the strength for delivery.”
“What does Luke say?”
“He is as concerned as we are. He’s been making phone calls and reading all the material he can get. He still has no answers. He doesn’t know what can be done.”
“We’ll have to keep praying.”
Virginia heard her mother sigh, then her muffled voice. She knew her father had pulled her mother close and that she was speaking from the comfort of his embrace.
“I’m so scared. I admit it. I know that God is in control. I know that. But—” She sounded about to cry. “I also know that sometimes His plans are not our plans. Sometimes He does not answer our prayers the way we ask. He . . . He might take her, Drew. And the baby.” Her voice broke. “We have to face that—and somehow accept it. But it would be so hard. I don’t know if I’m brave enough—strong enough.”
She was crying now.
Virginia’s own wild thoughts took over, drowning out the sounds of her father’s attempts to comfort her mother. Lose the baby? Yes—she had known that might happen, though she still fought against it. But lose Clara? Never. No. She’d never be able to accept that. Never.
