by Janette Oke
So I’m not to go, thought Virginia. She waited for those words from her father.
“But I think that you should leave on today’s train,” her father said instead. “I’m sure in this situation Mr. Manson would be agreeable.”
Virginia looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He seemed to read the question she did not ask and went on simply, “You may not be able to help Jenny at this point, but I think her father needs you.”
Virginia swallowed. How could she help Mr. Woods? That would be a pretty big task. He was likely holed up in some hotel room with a bottle for solace. The very thought frightened her.
“But I don’t want you in Almsburg on your own,” her father went on. “I’ve asked our pastor to contact a minister in one of the churches there. I have talked with him directly, and he will meet you at the train station. You are to stay with them. He’ll see that you get to the hospital. If anything—anything— concerns you, you can call on Pastor Black.”
A stranger. I am to stay with a complete stranger was Virginia’s first thought. She recoiled at the idea. But as her father continued to speak, she felt she understood his reasons. He, as well, knew that Mr. Woods often sought his consolation from a bottle. Many bottles. Yes. Her father was right. She would feel much more at ease staying in the home of a minister whom she could turn to for help.
She managed a nod and whispered, “Thank you, Papa.”
Drew reached out with his one remaining arm and pulled her against his chest. “Virginia,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry. For a young person you have had more than your share of life’s hard knocks. We’ll be praying. Telephone us. Anytime you have need. And remember, God is still in charge. He’s still great. He can turn this whole thing around and use it for good. This might be the very thing that brings Jenny to Him.”
It was a new thought to Virginia. She had not recognized any possible good that could come from such a tragedy.
“If you are in agreement, I will talk with Mr. Manson. See if it is possible for you to have a week off.”
Virginia nodded. Yes, she was in agreement. Even if Jenny could not recognize her, was totally unaware that she was even in the room, she would be there. She could pray with her, even talk to her. But as to Mr. Woods, Virginia was sure she would be of little comfort to him.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Manson,” she told her father, stepping back from his arm. “I’m the employee. It’s my responsibility.”
He nodded and patted her shoulder again. “I’ll get your ticket,” he informed her and opened the storeroom door.
———
Virginia’s heart was beating hard as she boarded the afternoon train. She had never traveled alone before, and the reason for her trip added to her uncertainty and nervousness. All sorts of “what ifs” ran through her mind. Her mother already had covered most of them, with continual, “If . . . , Virginia, then . . .” Her father had managed to chuckle in spite of the circumstances. “You’ll have the poor girl afraid to breathe,” he teased his wife.
Belinda chuckled and kissed Virginia on the forehead. “You’re right,” she said to her husband. “She’s quite able to handle things properly on her own. It’s a habit of mine. This . . . this mothering and fretting over my young. I’m sorry, Virginia.”
But Virginia had not resented the extra hovering from her mother. In her heart she wished she could take Belinda with her into this rather frightening, undesired circumstance that confronted her. She never would have confessed as much. Now she boarded the train, selected a seat, and leaned to the window for one last wave to her family standing on the platform.
As the train began to slowly move forward, squealing a protest as iron wheels ground against iron rails, the tears gathered in Virginia’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if they were brought on by her continued concerns for the welfare of her friend or because she was traveling alone into the unknown. What would await her at the other end of this rail line? Would the minister be friendly—or stiff and frightening? Would Jenny’s father be glad to see her—or resist her intrusion? Would Jenny be totally unaware of her visit to the hospital room—or stir from her unconscious state to welcome her? Or would—would Jenny die before she could even reach her side?
———
The rambling train seemed to travel at turtle speed. The sun went down and darkness engulfed them. Virginia sat stiff and silent on the maroon plush. A few times the weathered conductor with the handlebar mustache, blue suit, and brimmed cap passed down the aisle, moving easily back and forth with the sway of the train, nodding her way and passing on. An occasional passenger stirred from time to time, finding footing much more difficult than the seasoned railman had. Mostly, folks just sat. Virginia heard a baby’s cry and a mother’s hush. Two old gents near the middle of the car carried on a rather loud conversation. She idly wondered if they both were hard of hearing—or only one of them. She made no effort to understand the words tossed back and forth in the closeness of the railcar.
It was almost ten o’clock at night before her rumbling stomach reminded her of the lunch her mother had packed. Carefully she unwrapped the little package, thankful that her mother had insisted, and began to eat. A small bottle of milk finished off the meal.
She was sure she would never be able to sleep, but she rolled an extra sweater into a ball and placed it beneath her head, resting up against the coolness of the window. The next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her shoulder. “Miss. Miss,” a voice was saying, “your stop is just up ahead.”
A uniform was bending over her. Virginia’s sleep-filled eyes traveled up past the blue and braid chest, past the curling mustache and into the eyes of the conductor who bent over her. She shook her head to clear its fog and nodded.
Once fully awake she began to gather up her things. The minister was to be meeting her train. But it was the middle of the night. How had her father ever persuaded a total stranger to get up from his bed to meet the train for an unknown girl?
Virginia decided that anyone willing to do such a service must be a person of unusual caring and worth. Perhaps she would not need to be so fearful after all. She picked up her case and coat so she would be able to disembark quickly once the announcement was made.
———
“Watch your step, miss.”
The conductor took Virginia’s arm to assist her down the steep, narrow steps into the night. She blinked in the glare of lights that lit the platform and murmured a thank-you to the man as her foot reached for the last step. Adjusting her luggage, she followed the other passengers to the station.
For the hundredth time, her mind busily engaged itself in wondering, How will I know him? Her father had told her that the minister’s name was Reverend Thomas Black, but that was all she knew.
Upon entering the large room full of benches and people, Virginia immediately began to scan the crowd. Off to the left a group of young people, probably students from the college, huddled and laughed and shared some hilarious news or joke. On the seats ahead, a few loiterers lingered, some slumped in sleep, others eyeing the incoming passengers with varied degrees of curiosity. Virginia turned to her right where several people milled about, some seeming to have purpose, others just aimlessly on the move. Among them was an elderly, respectable-looking man who seemed to be peering into the crowd. Just as Virginia began to move forward, certain that this was the minister she was to meet, he was greeted by an equally elderly woman. The two smiled at each other, gave a preemptory embrace, and started off together, he taking the small valise from her hand.
Virginia sighed. This might prove to be difficult. She didn’t know whether to comb the crowd or just pick an unobtrusive seat and wait.
Just then her eyes caught a sign, held up high above the heads of others. There was her name. Virginia Simpson. With another sigh, now of relief, Virginia moved confidently toward the sign carrier.
As a path cleared before her, she saw the sign lowering, its bearer moving in her direction.
One last person moved to the side, and Virginia prepared a welcoming smile. She was so thankful for the wisdom that prompted the signmaker to simplify this meeting.
Then Virginia stopped abruptly. There must be some mistake. No minister could possibly be this young, she thought frantically.
———
“Miss Simpson?”
Virginia managed a nod. Her throat felt dry.
“I’m Pastor Black.”
He must have seen her bewilderment. “Your father, Andrew Simpson, called me,” he explained. “Made arrangements for me to meet your train. He said you have a friend in the hospital, badly injured from a car accident.”
He had all the facts. Surely he must be the right man.
He moved forward to take the suitcase from her hand. Virginia didn’t know whether to let it go or not.
“I have a car waiting—this way.”
She still did not speak or move.
“I hope your journey was not too stressful,” he continued with a kind smile. “This way,” he said again.
Virginia knew he expected her to fall in step. She did, her legs moving woodenly forward.
“This must be very hard for you,” he was saying as they moved from the building.
Virginia nodded.
“I understand your friend is a student at the university.”
She nodded again.
“We have several university students who attend our church. I know she was not one of our usual group, but perhaps she had been an invited guest at some time.”
Virginia shook her head. It was highly unlikely.
“I haven’t had opportunity since your father’s call to make a hospital visit, but I certainly plan to do that first thing tomorrow. Just to let the family know that we will do all we can to help them through this difficult time.”
Virginia nodded again, wondering distractedly how welcome his services would be.
“I understand her father has come.”
Virginia knew she must find her tongue.
“Yes” was all she managed.
“I must look him up,” he continued.
They had reached the auto, and he was storing her suitcase in the backseat and opening the door for her to be seated.
Before she could check herself, she blurted out, “Are you married?”
He looked totally surprised by the question, then seemed to nod in understanding. He looked solemn for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed. Virginia had never seen so many changes of expression pass so quickly on anyone’s face before.
“I am not,” he answered through his chuckles, “but you are quite safe. I live with my mother—or rather, she lives with me.” He helped her in and closed the door.
He chuckled again when he climbed in beside her and started the engine.
He soon sobered and eased the auto from the curb and out into the street.
“Are you uncomfortable in an auto?” he asked, all of the laughter gone from his voice. “I can imagine that you would be uncertain—”
“No,” Virginia put in quickly. “I’m all right.”
“Good. I just thought—with your friend’s accident and all—some people get very fearful.”
Virginia shook her head again, sure that driving with a minister was much different than being with Jenny and her friends on the night of the accident.
“You might not meet my mother until morning,” he informed her. “I encouraged her not to disturb her sleep. But she is there—let me assure you.” He smiled reassuringly. “If you are not certain about me, a stranger—trust your father. You can be sure he checked things thoroughly before he made this arrangement.”
Virginia relaxed. Of course her father would have checked.
CHAPTER 12
They were prepared to tiptoe their way into the house where a cheery light awaited them, but a middle-aged woman met them at the door, welcoming Virginia with a pleasant smile.
“Do come in, my dear,” she invited.
“Mother. You were to stay in bed,” her son reprimanded gently.
She seemed to pay little attention to his fussing. “How was your trip?” she asked Virginia. “Miserable time of the day to be traveling. But then, train travel is an adventure at any time. Never did care for the train. All that rocking to and fro makes my stomach queasy.”
Virginia managed a smile. “I slept part of the way,” she offered, still surprised by the fact that she actually had.
“Oh, that’s good. It makes the journey seem so much shorter if one can sleep. Well, come right this way. Your room is at the top of the stair. Tommy, take her suitcase up. Put it on the low stand by the door.”
She turned back to Virginia. “I’m so sorry to hear of your friend’s tragic accident. Have you any further word on her condition?”
Virginia shook her head.
Virginia watched as her suitcase moved up the stairs in the hand of the young minister.
“Well, we have our people praying. We haven’t had one bit of time to do anything more. Tommy had to go to Trent this afternoon to see an ailing parishioner, and then he had a church meeting this evening, and by the time it finished it was too late to get over to the hospital. But he’ll get you on over the first thing in the morning. He has cleared his day so he might be available to help in any way he can.”
“Oh, he shouldn’t have,” Virginia objected. “I don’t wish to interfere with his pastoral duties.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled. “That’s what his pastoral duties are.”
Virginia was relieved to find her hostess warm and talkative, though as weary as she was, she would have been quite content for the chat to take place after she had gotten more sleep.
“Do you want a cup of tea, my dear? Warm milk? Lemonade?”
With each shake of Virginia’s head, the woman named something else.
“No, thank you. Mama fixed a lunch for me to eat on the train. I’m fine, thank you.”
“Then it’s off to bed with you then. You must be exhausted.”
Virginia admitted that she was.
“Right up the stairs. Tommy will have your suitcase there for you.”
“Thank you,” said Virginia sincerely. As she turned to mount the stairs, she smiled at the “Tommy,” sounding as though the minister were still a small boy. She wondered what Tommy himself thought of it. He had given his name as Thomas.
Virginia was so tired she could not wait to climb between the cool, white sheets. There was her suitcase, just where it was supposed to be. There was no sign of the pastor who had brought her from the train station. She did wish briefly that she’d had an opportunity to thank him and to ask him to please have her called in the morning in the event she should oversleep.
But Virginia did not sleep in. She was awake and dressed before she heard stirring in the rest of the house. She waited nervously until she thought the minister and his mother were both up and about, then cautiously opened her door. Yes, she could hear the murmur of voices. She took a deep breath and began her descent.
Through the open kitchen door she could see the breakfast table already set for three. The woman, bountifully garbed in a blue checkered apron, was working at the stove. The young minister sat on a chair near a window, an open Bible in his hand. His head turned toward her as she appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning.” His smile greeted her.
The clock above his head said ten minutes past seven.
His mother turned also and graced Virginia with a warm smile. “Did you get any sleep, my dear?”
Virginia smiled, too. “I feel much better this morning, thank you. The bed was—just right. Not too soft, not too hard, just right. Did I happen to have ‘baby bear’s bed,’ by any chance?”
The young man looked up again from his reading as though surprised that she could put so many words together in a row. The woman chuckled at the little joke. “Baby bear’s?” she repeat
ed. “Perhaps.” Then she continued, “Sit down, Virginia. Take that chair right in front of you. Breakfast will be ready in a jiffy. I’ve just to dish it up.”
“May I help?”
“Oh no, no. I’ve got it all right here. Tommy, put that hot pad by the milk pitcher. This breakfast casserole is too hot for the table.”
Virginia had never had a breakfast casserole before and wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The woman placed the dish on the table and went for the plate of muffins.
“Sit down, my dear,” she repeated.
Virginia sat down, wondering if everyone in Tommy’s church was “deared” by his mother.
The minister led in the morning prayer, which was considerably more than a simple table grace. He referred to the day they were facing, needs in his congregation, which included Mrs. Tiffany’s gout, Margaret, who had fallen and broken an arm, Jack, who was confronted with bills he had no money to pay, and Mr. Sloan, who had lost his wife.
His prayer was sincere and earnest. He remembered the young girl in the auto accident and her greatly concerned father. He prayed for Virginia and God’s needed presence and help to get her through the difficult day ahead. In the closing sentences, he thanked a loving God for bountifully supplying the daily bread to sustain their physical bodies.
The meal was much more than bread. The casserole was delicious, an egg and ham concoction with browned crumbs sprinkled over the top, and seasoning that made one lick one’s lips. The muffins were a wonderful complement, and Virginia found herself eating heartily.
“It’s a bit early to be heading to the hospital,” the young pastor said. “Is there anything you want to do first?”
Virginia tried to think. There was nothing that she needed to do, and she did not know the city well enough to make any requests.
“No,” she answered. “I just want to see my friend. I came for no other reason.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Did you want to get in touch with the girl’s father?” Mrs. Black asked.
“I don’t know where he is staying. I imagine I’ll see him at the hospital,” Virginia responded.
