by Janette Oke
And then one day the tension in the sickroom turned to out-and-out war. Virginia had come over early on a Saturday morning, bringing with her Jenny’s favorite sponge cake. Jenny had reacted with disdain rather than gratitude.
“Cake? Is a cake supposed to take the place of my arms and legs?”
Virginia bit her tongue.
“Honestly, Virginia, you are so . . . so downright . . . moronic.” Jenny swore to further express her disgust. “Anyone who can stand there in front of a . . . a total invalid and offer a”—more expletives—“cake in place of life has no mind and no feelings.”
Virginia’s hands trembled.
“Get it out of here. You get out of here,” Jenny screamed. “If it wasn’t for your hateful, vindictive God, I wouldn’t be sitting here in this chair.” Another outpouring of horrid words.
Virginia held her breath. It was one thing for Jenny to turn her rage on a lifelong friend, but it was quite another for her to actually curse God. Suddenly she could remain silent no longer.
“Stop it!” Virginia shouted at Jenny, slamming the plate with the cake onto the side table. “You stop it. You will condemn yourself to . . . to—” But Virginia could not even say the word.
Jenny laughed. A cruel, hateful laugh. Then she stopped as suddenly as she had begun, her face contorted with rage. “Condemn myself? I’m already condemned. You think anything could be worse than this? I can’t walk. I can’t dance. I can’t even move.” She hurled the words at Virginia.
“You can breathe,” Virginia flung back, stepping close to shout right in Jenny’s face. “You can breathe. And you can think. Why aren’t you thankful for that? Things could be far worse, you know. You could be dead. You could be brain-damaged. You could be a lot of things—worse than you are.
“You don’t want the cake? Fine. I’ll take the cake. But I’m not coming back until you decide to start trying and stop whining. I didn’t put you in that wheelchair. And it was not a vindictive God who put you there, either. You made the choices, Jenny. If it hadn’t been for a merciful God, you wouldn’t even be here. Think about that, why don’t you?” Virginia paused a moment, then finished with, “Why don’t you stop feeling sorry for yourself and blaming others, and start working on getting out of that wheelchair? Or don’t you have what it takes to do that?”
She snatched up the cake and stormed from the house.
Virginia was back again in the afternoon, remorseful and repentant. Jenny pretended not to be glad to see her, but Virginia saw the relieved look in Jenny’s green eyes when she said, “I’m sorry.” Jenny just waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.
No reference was made to the former outburst. They went on, a bit awkwardly at first, as though it had not happened. But over the days that followed, the relationship between the two gradually changed. Virginia did not attempt to see Jenny as often as she had at first, and when she did come, she did not come with offerings in her hand, nor cute little anecdotes to try to cheer the patient up. She laid aside those approaches. If Jenny was to get better, it would have to be her own doing. No one else could do it for her.
———
Clara’s second son arrived with no complications. Anthony was beside himself at having a baby brother and coaxed and pleaded to hold the small bundle even when the baby was sound asleep.
They named him Jeffrey Luke. Jeffrey was his father’s second name, and Luke was for his great-uncle who had given him such a good start in the world.
Clara had never looked better and declared she had never felt better, either. The mystery of her first troubled pregnancy remained, but everyone hoped that it was totally a thing of the past.
For the first few weeks, Virginia went over when she could just to give Clara a hand with the washing and heavier chores. Francine pitched in, too. She was old enough and skilled enough to carry her share of the load.
Before they knew it, fall was again upon them. Virginia did not even think about going off to college. She had her job at the post office and was quite happy with it. She refused to think ahead to consider that she would be sorting mail and stamping envelopes for the rest of her life. But if she took it one day at a time, it was quite manageable.
Off and on, one or another of the local young men from the church invited her out to an event or expressed interest in beginning a relationship, but Virginia warded off all approaches. She had no intention of ever giving her heart again. She would never be able to love as she had loved Jamison.
———
The Christmas Day service fell on a Sunday. Virginia prepared for church with more than usual care and interest. It was not just another Sunday, with a later than usual dinner to follow. Christmas was always a special time, with thankful thoughts rekindled by the celebration over the coming to earth of a long-ago baby. And after the worship time, both personally and with the congregation, Virginia looked forward to the family being together. Especially the fact that Clara and Troy, with Anthony and Jeffrey, would be joining them. Virginia, a doting aunt, enjoyed her young nephews immensely.
Rodney and Danny had arrived home, as well, for the Christmas break, bringing added pleasure for all of them. And Rodney had excitedly met the train the night before to welcome Grace back to town. This time Virginia quietly observed that there was now much more to their relationship than friendship. She wondered if the Christmas season would bring an announcement.
Virginia had hoped that Mr. Woods and Jenny would join them for the service, but Jenny had pled a cold, and Mr. Woods said he would stay at home with her since it was Christmas Day. Mr. Woods had been attending services with some regularity since his return from the city. The congregation warmly welcomed him, but Jenny had resolutely refused to join him. Virginia continued to pray daily for Jenny.
With her thoughts on many things, Virginia walked with her family into the familiar church and hung her warm coat on a hook in the front hall. Smoothing the skirt of her new jade green suit and adjusting her hat, she followed Francine into the sanctuary.
She wondered absentmindedly what the pastor would find to say about Christmas that would be new. It had all been said so many times before. It must be difficult to be a minister, expected to find a new approach to a very old message. Even one as dramatic and significant as the one the angels had brought to earth so many years before.
Virginia slid into the bench beside Francine, and her eyes traveled over the rows of pews. There were the Ansons, the Carols, the Greens, and the Curtises in their usual places. Suddenly Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. There sat Jamison. Her heart began to pound. She had not heard that he was home.
Virginia was totally unprepared for the strange feelings that passed through her. She had thought that with the passing months she had quite gotten over Jamison. At least she had hoped so. It had been over two years, and here she was with thumping pulse and wet palms at the mere sight of him across the aisle. She went from elation to heartache, from excitement to despair. She had no business responding in such a fashion. She shouldn’t have responded at all. But she was caught so totally off guard, she excused herself. Why hadn’t she been prepared? Why hadn’t someone alerted her?
Virginia could not have reported what the pastor’s morning sermon had contained. She stood when bidden to stand, bowed when invited to bow, sang when the rest of the congregation sang, but her mind would not cooperate. All she thought of was Jamison. The ache in her heart that had gradually lessened over the past months was rubbed raw and open again. Virginia longed to leave.
It did not help when the minister gave a special welcome to those who were back with them for Christmas. Rodney and Danny were named along with several other college young people, but Jamison Curtis was the name that stood out for Virginia, verifying that she was not imagining. Jamison was truly in their home church, sharing the morning service.
Once or twice she felt Jamison look her way. How was one to act under such circumstances? she asked herself. Controlled and uncaring? Kind and forgiving? Sh
e certainly had no intention of letting Jamison know how much his presence disturbed her, or that his very appearance set her heart to racing all over again.
When the service ended, she was of mixed feelings. She wanted to get up and rush from the sanctuary. At the same time she feared that he might. She longed to speak to him, but she feared that he might speak to her. What would she do? Could she keep her composure if he should say hello? Would he even wish to greet her? That thought brought more pain.
“Hello, Virginia.”
Her heart stopped. Her face flushed. It was all that she could do to raise her eyes.
“Hello,” she managed.
“How’re things?”
She swallowed, a spark of anger mixing with the pain. How did he think she was? Hadn’t he . . . ?
“Fine,” she replied and even managed a small smile.
“Good.”
“And with you?”
It was so awkward. Virginia felt as though the eyes of the total congregation were upon them, watching to see just how they responded to each other. She forced her smile wider.
“Fine,” he answered in turn. “College is going great.”
“Good.”
“We didn’t win the championship this year, though.”
“That’s too bad.”
It was all so forced, so artificial.
“How is Jenny? My folks told me about her accident.”
For the first time Virginia’s eyes expressed her true feelings. “She’s not doing well,” she said honestly with concern.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Tell her I said hello.”
Virginia’s head came up. “Why don’t you call on her?”
“I leave later tonight.”
“Oh.”
So he was going away again—so quickly. Her throat tightened again.
“Merry Christmas.” His voice sounded a little husky.
She was able to produce another smile. “Merry Christmas,” she returned, hoping that it sounded sincere. The truth was, she wished to go home and cry.
———
Virginia could not nurse her broken heart for long. As soon as they got home from church, family members began to arrive. Anthony greeted Virginia with one of his childish hugs and a wrinkled gift extended in his small hand. “I made it for you,” he informed her.
Virginia admired the scribbles he had put on the sheet of paper. “Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed. “It’s lovely. Tell me about it.”
“That’s a flower and this is its pot and this is a bunny rabbit sitting beside it with a white tail and a blue jacket.”
Anthony had developed a love for the story of Peter Rabbit. Virginia assumed that the “blue jacket” was the one Peter wore in the pictures of the book. However, try as she might, Virginia could find none of the things the child listed in the picture he thrust her way. And there certainly was no blue in the crayon markings scrawled across the page.
“I will put it on my wall,” Virginia promised seriously.
“Jeffy didn’t make a picture,” Anthony went on to excuse his baby brother. “He’s too little to hold the crayon, an’ he might eat it.”
“Maybe next year,” Virginia assured him.
From then on it was delightful chaos. It was the Simpsons’ turn to have Clark and Marty join them for Christmas. By the time everyone had gathered, the long dining room table was crowded with happy faces. Eleven family members and their special guest, Grace, joined hands for the Christmas prayer, while one baby boy slept nearby in the much-used wooden cradle.
The merry laughter and good-natured teasing, served up with ample helpings of turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie, were enough to make one forget a broken heart.
Almost.
———
They gathered in the front parlor to sing carols and sip hot cider. Gifts had already been exchanged. The atmosphere was one of thankfulness and good cheer. Anthony, who had played himself out with the activities of the day, had fallen asleep in Virginia’s arms and did not even stir as each new carol was enthusiastically begun.
“This has all been wonderful,” Clark said after many songs had been sung together. He reached for his cane to assist himself in rising from his chair. “But Grandma and I better get us off home while the moon is still high.”
A chuckle ran around the group. Grandpa Clark was always coming up with a new reason for taking himself off home.
Marty smiled, as well, but stood to her feet, also. “He’s right,” she exclaimed. “We aren’t as good at stayin’ up as we once were.”
“We sure are gittin’ better ’bout sleepin’ in come mornin’, though,” Clark added, bringing another laugh.
“Guess we should be,” Marty followed up the comment. “We sure been gettin’ good practice at it of late.”
They all enjoyed the laughter. Clark took a step forward, his wooden leg needing a bit of coaxing to get it to begin moving properly.
“Just a minute, everyone,” spoke up Rodney, his face beginning to flush a deep red. “Before you all go, I have an announcement.” He reached down and took Grace’s hand, pulling her up beside him, slipping his other arm easily about her slender waist. “Grace has honored me by promising to become my wife,” Rodney said in a rush, all shyness gone and in its place excitement and joy. He beamed as he looked from his family to the young woman at his side. Cheers went up. Congratulations followed. Belinda went quickly to Grace’s side and gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek. The entire room erupted in well-wishing. Even young Anthony sat up in Virginia’s arms, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and began grinning, though he had absolutely no idea what his family was celebrating.
It was hard to get everyone disentangled so that they could go off home. But at length it did happen. Rodney and the radiant Grace were left the privilege of the parlor, while others retreated to the kitchen to take care of the remaining cleaning up from the day of festivity.
“Wasn’t this the most . . . most glorious Christmas ever?” said Francine, almost swooning with enthusiasm.
Belinda smiled. “It was very special. Starting with that wonderful sermon this morning. The meaning of Christmas just . . . just—well, it warmed my heart all over again to see it in that light. So many new thoughts—such reason for joy.”
“And Rodney and Grace’s engagement. Oh, I think I’d like to be engaged at Christmas. It would be so special,” gushed Francine. “I can’t think of a better time. Can you, Virginia?”
Virginia shrugged off the question. But Francine was not finished swooning—or making Virginia miserable.
“I’m so happy for Rodney. Aren’t you, Virginia?”
“Of course.” The words were curt, clipped.
She was happy for Rodney and Grace. Of course she was. But it could have come on a better day. It did not help to be so vividly reminded of just how much she had lost.
CHAPTER 16
I’m taking Jenny on back to the hospital for assessment,” Mr. Woods informed Virginia.
She looked up from the letters she was stamping. She realized he had walked over to the post office specifically to tell her this news. His office boy had already picked up the day’s mail. She had heard no information from Jenny directly about another trip to the city hospital.
“I’ve been in touch with Dr. Moore,” Mr. Woods explained. “He says there is little he can advise over the phone. He had hoped by now Jenny would have improved to a greater extent.”
Virginia had hoped so, as well. Jenny’s physical progress seemed to have been at a standstill for several weeks.
“Did he say if . . . ?” Virginia hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase the question.
“He wasn’t willing to say anything at all over the phone. He wants to see her,” Mr. Woods responded.
“But are there any . . . possibilities?”
“Well, he did say that there may be some surgery that could help. Or therapy. He won’t know for sure until he sees her.”
Virginia nodded, feeling guilty fo
r the many times she had been impatient with Jenny for “not trying.”
“I’ll not be staying with Tom Black this time,” the man told her. “I didn’t want to put him out. Besides, he lost his good cook.” Mr. Woods smiled, but at Virginia’s concerned look, he hurried to say, “His mother moved back to her hometown. Tom thinks she may even have a special interest—a widower in her local church.”
Virginia smiled in return, relieved that Mrs. Black was all right.
“Anyway, I’ll stay at that little hotel he found for me before and take the streetcar back and forth to the hospital. That way the pastor can carry on with his own duties at the church. I have made arrangements to meet with him, though. Sort through some—some things I still don’t understand.”
Virginia looked at him in surprise.
“He’s a good man,” Mr. Woods said candidly. “He practices what he preaches. I figure a man could do a lot worse than to tie in with something like that.”
Virginia’s heart leaped. In all the years that she had been praying for Jenny, she had never expected God might work in the heart of her father first.
“I’ll be praying,” she promised the man now, finding it hard to fight tears.
“Thanks. I knew you would.” He swallowed and licked his lips, as though having a hard time controlling his own emotions.
“I don’t suppose there is any way . . . that you’d be at all interested in coming on down with us for . . . for a few days? I’d be paying your way and all.”
Virginia could not hide her surprise. “I would like to, Mr. Woods—I dearly would—if I could be of any assistance. But I don’t think I could ask Mr. Manson for any more time off. It’s a busy time of the year for us now—garden seed orders coming in and all.”
He nodded. “Sure. I understand.”
“But I . . . I do thank you.”
He laughed. “Thank me? I wasn’t offering you a favor, Virginia. I was asking you to do us one.” His merriment faded. “Truth is, I don’t know how to . . . to reach my girl. For many years, I know I left her on her own. I can’t expect things to be much different now. But—well—she won’t talk to me, won’t tell me how she feels deep inside. I just can’t touch her. She just locks me out.”
