by Janette Oke
They sipped their tea while the children played on the floor by the table. Virginia could not get used to a man moving about her grandmother’s kitchen. But it did not seem to bother Marty. She wanted to talk. Talk about family. About the difficulties of another winter. About the warming of spring and the garden Virginia had planted. Eventually Virginia began to relax. Maybe life for her grandparents hadn’t changed so much after all.
But yes—it had. It was evident when she bit into one of her grandmother’s sugar cookies. They were not the same as in the past. It was all she could do to nonchalantly keep chewing.
“I think I got a bit too much baking soda,” Marty mused. “I fergit sometimes.”
Her grandfather chuckled. “Ya shoulda been here the other day,” he told Virginia, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “Ma was in the midst of baking up some of her biscuits—an’ the phone rang. It was Belinda, an’ by the time she finished her chat she couldn’t remember a thing. Couldn’t tell what she had put in an’ what she hadn’t. An’ tastin’ the flour mix didn’t help her none. It turned out she put in a double dose of salt—an’ no sugar.”
Marty laughed right along with him as though it were a great joke on herself. “Had to throw thet batch out,” she said.
Now Clark laughed aloud. “This time ya didn’t try buryin’ ’em in the garden.”
“Oh, ya’d have to bring that old story up again,” she said in mock disgust. Then she laughed, too. “My, my, that was a long time ago. … ”
The look her grandparents exchanged made Virginia’s heart twist with an emotion she could not have described. Their marriage has been such an example to all of us, she mused.
Grandma Marty was saying, “Harry here makes a good batch of bread. I love to smell it baking. Every Tuesday and Friday—them’s his bakin’ days.”
So Harry Simcoe baked bread. Virginia should not have been surprised. He’d had lots of years as a bachelor.
“Well … I do git mixed up sometimes,” admitted Marty, not seeming the least embarrassed about it. “My mind jest don’t stay on it like it used to.”
“We ain’t suffered thet I can tell,” responded Clark. “I git myself any heavier and Harry here won’t be able to lift me.”
“I think we both put us on some pounds since Harry’s come,” Marty informed her granddaughter. Virginia could not see that they had, but they had both lost some weight in recent years. Perhaps more than she had realized. They had needed to put on a few pounds. Even now her grandmother’s shoulder blades looked bony under the cotton housedress.
Small Martha now came across the room dragging Clark’s prosthesis. “Grandpa Clark,” she asked. “Do you need your leg?”
Now, where in the world did she find that? wondered Virginia, quickly rising to her feet.
But her grandfather laughed heartily and took the artificial limb from the child. “You think I need thet? Tell you what—I don’t use thet there thing much anymore. Jest a nuisance. I jest use this here cane—an’ Harry’s nice strong arm. We git us anywhere thet I need to go.”
Martha looked from her great-grandfather to Mr. Simcoe. She seemed to be thinking that this new houseguest maybe had taken away some of their fun. She had loved to help Grandfather Clark strap on his leg.
Virginia glanced at the clock. “I must get on home,” she said reluctantly. “I promised Jonathan I’d be home in plenty of time to get dinner.”
Marty moved as though to jump up, but a spasm of pain passed over her face, and she settled back in her chair. “I’m so glad ya come. It’s been a long time since ya been over. Pa and me been talkin’ about ya and wonderin’ how things are goin’.”
Virginia ached to be able to talk with her grandparents about the situation with Mindy—but she could not. They still could not freely talk about the court case because they did not wish Mindy to be traumatized by the whole event.
“Well, I was mighty glad to see another spring come,” Virginia said, hoping her voice held a light note.
“Aren’t we all,” responded her grandmother. “But then, I been thet way every spring since I can remember. Yet when thet first snow falls, I must admit I feel rather snug. Like God is tucking me in with His white blanket fer the winter. Sort of a time to slow down and ponder a bit ’bout all of the blessin’s of the year past. Funny how it goes.”
Virginia nodded.
“Guess He made the seasons fer a good purpose,” said her grandfather, then held out his hands. “Now bring those younguns over here, and we’ll pray before you go.” It had always been his ritual, this little gathering close of family members as he prayed for them before they left his home. He did so now. His wavering voice suddenly became stronger and more sure. With arms that pulled them all close against his knees, He asked God for His continued care and protection upon those they loved.
Virginia felt the tears behind her eyelids. It was a wonder? ful comfort to know her grandfather’s prayers were as strong as ever—even though his body was showing signs of weakening.
Jonathan’s reputation as a rancher had become well-known, and the young horses brought in more than expected at the spring sale. Virginia looked at the bank statement Jonathan brought home. What a difference it could have meant to their livelihood had it really been theirs. Much of it would go to pay the bank loan for the lawyer’s initial fee. And the rest would be sorely needed for the next batch of bills. It would not go for the addition to the house as Jonathan and Virginia had previously planned. They needed more room. More bedrooms for the growing family. With Slate occupying one of the small bedrooms, three were just not enough.
Virginia wondered woodenly if the addition ever would happen. Would some other family be living in their house in the future? Would they lose the horses? The farm? Would it take everything they had to fight for Mindy? And would it even work …? She shook off her frightening thoughts.
Mentally Virginia ticked each day off the calendar on the wall. They were getting closer and closer to the court date. Did she want the time to go any faster? What would it mean to all of them?
Slate continued to visit Lucy, and Jonathan let him borrow the motorcar on Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons. Virginia hoped and prayed that the young people were not already making plans. They were not prepared to lose Slate. Nor could they pay him more.
One evening Jonathan said to Virginia, “Had a little chat with Slate this morning.”
Virginia waited.
“Felt he needed to know exactly what’s going on. Also wanted to be straight with him on the farm situation. Told him what I’d planned to do.” He hesitated. “He seemed right excited about the prospect of being partner with us.”
There was a moment’s silence before Jonathan went on. “I also told him that things had sort of turned aside at the moment.”
Virginia thought that was putting it mildly.
“I felt I could trust him with the facts of our situation with Mindy. He assured me he would tell no one—not even Lucy.”
Virginia nodded, relieved that Slate now knew what was going on.
“He said they are in no hurry. Lucy’s folks, though approving of Slate, think they are both too young to take on marriage yet. They want them to wait a spell.”
Virginia was again relieved. They wouldn’t lose Slate, and he wouldn’t need to give up his plans, either.
“He would like to get working on his house though. Says he wants to rough-frame it in, then finish as time and money allow. He’s got some money coming from his grandfather’s estate. Not a big sum—but it’ll allow him to buy building materials and get started.”
“I hadn’t known,” Virginia remarked.
“No, he hasn’t talked about it before.”
Jonathan was very quiet. Virginia knew something had him deep in thought. At last he said, “When he knew just how things were with Mindy, the costs and all—he offered the money—outright—to help pay the lawyer fees.”
Virginia knew the young man’s generosity had touched Jonathan as deeply
as it now touched her. What a sweet and unselfish thing to do—and him courting Lucy and planning their house together.
“Of course we can’t take it,” she said unnecessarily.
“Of course not.”
Virginia brushed away tears.
The trial date was upon them. Once again Belinda came to care for the children. Virginia’s hands trembled as she packed their bags. She did not know how long they would be gone—nor, of course, the outcome when this was finally over. Would they still be family? Would Mindy be ordered to live in a strange new world with a woman who had no idea how to take care of a child—a woman who was dying? Virginia’s heart constricted, and for the thousandth time she prayed, “Father, please help us. Help Mindy. … ”
They said their good-byes and climbed into the motorcar. This time the roads were passable and they would drive. Drew would travel with them and be on hand to help in any way he could. Having the car would certainly give them more mobility in the city.
Virginia wept silent tears for the first several miles. The two men did not even attempt to distract her or to comfort her. Perhaps, she thought, they wished they could be free to express their feelings in just the same way.
The road stretched endlessly before them. She had thought the train ride tiresome, but it seemed that the car was even more so. It was hot, and the breeze from the open windows blew her hair about her face in a fashion she found most agitating. She yearned for a chance to get out and stretch her legs.
At length her father, who had taken a turn at the steering wheel, pulled up to the side of the road in the shade of a spruce tree. “What say we have a bit of that lunch you prepared?”
Virginia was only too glad to present the basket and focus her attention on laying out the contents. But her appetite seemed to have deserted her. She noted that Jonathan did not eat very much, either.
Eventually she walked about the area. The natural breeze across the fields of barley felt much more comfortable against her cheeks than the hot wind in the moving car. She tipped her face toward it, hoping it would cool her flushed cheeks.
And then it was time to move on again. Reluctantly she repacked the basket, replaced the lid, and passed it to Jona? than.
He touched Virginia’s shoulder. “Would you like a turn in the front with your father?”
“You go ahead. I’m fine in the backseat,” she answered, trying to smile.
“Go on. Sit up front for a while. You’ll get a much better look at the countryside from there.”
Numbly Virginia allowed Jonathan to help her into the front seat. It was cooler in the front, and the wind was not so wild.
She turned to look back at Jonathan. He had leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She wondered if he was getting some sleep. Or perhaps he was simply resting. Or praying. They had done a lot of that recently. You love Mindy even more than we do, Lord, her heart whispered as she watched the grasses beside the road wave in the wind. She is your child first of all. We entrust her into your care.
Virginia took some comfort in that thought.
Virginia had never experienced such agonizing, difficult days as those facing them in that city courtroom. The lawyers paced the floor or stood thoughtfully, droned or shouted by turn, reiterating the same material, the same charges and countercharges. Virginia wanted to tune it out. In fact, she often did.
She found it difficult to keep her eyes from wandering to Jenny. The woman’s face was stoic, but Virginia wondered if she saw a shadow of pain there. Of uncertainty. But also of anger.
They had not talked. Jenny made a point of never making eye contact. Virginia had longed to approach her, but her father had cautioned that it might not be appropriate right now. There would be time to try for reconciliation after the conclusion of the trial, he said. Virginia knew in her heart that she wanted reconciliation. She did not want to hurt Jenny. But they could not sit by and let her destroy Mindy.
They phoned home often to check on the family and pass on any updates. Slate was keeping up with the chores and the horse training. Belinda reported that the children were fine and healthy. Mindy, out of school for the summer, was a big help with the little ones. Virginia longed to be home with them.
And then it was over. The lawyers presented their final arguments, the judge, after taking considerable time, brought back his verdict. Mindy was to remain with them.
They laughed and cried and hugged one another. It seemed too good to be true.
Then Virginia thought of Jenny. She must speak to her. But when Virginia rose to cross the courtroom, she discovered that Jenny had already gone.
They tried to get in touch with Jenny before leaving the city, but she refused. After much prayer and discussion, Jonathan arranged a meeting with Jenny’s lawyer. Virginia felt anxious and nervous, as if they were entering the lion’s den, as they were ushered into a room of rich wood panels and thick carpets.
A receptionist showed them into the inner office. “Mr. Tomms is expecting you.” Her voice was coolly professional.
Jonathan did not waste time after the rather perfunctory greetings.
“We have taken no pleasure in this whole affair,” he began, “but we had no choice but to fight for our daughter. To have sent her away from our home would have been devastating—to her even more than to us. When she came to us she was deeply withdrawn. She would not speak for many months and was even frightened of being touched or held.
“But we do feel sympathy for her birth mother. We would … we would be open to letting her spend time with the child. If she wishes to come to our home, she would be welcome. Or if she would consider moving back to the area—to our town—we’d arrange for regular visits. So that Mindy might get to know her. Slowly. Over time, I’m sure a relationship could develop. Mindy already prays for her mother daily.”
The lawyer listened silently, tapping the end of a pencil on his desk. When Jonathan stopped, the man shifted his position, sat forward in his high-backed leather chair and looked from one to the other.
“My client wanted her child,” he said firmly, “not some convenient arrangement of your own making.”
“I quite understand,” said Jonathan, and Virginia marveled at his control. “The court has ruled it best for Mindy to be left where she is. We fully agree. But in recognition of the mother’s feelings, we are willing to cooperate so that a relationship can be established.”
“The mother does not wish your charity. She wants her child.”
Jonathan stood to his feet. “Will you be so kind as to pass our proposal on to the mother … and let her decide?” His voice sounded strained, and Virginia knew he was fighting to remain civil.
“I may,” said the man, leaning back in his chair. “And I may not.”
Jonathan gave one nod and touched Virginia’s arm. They turned together and left the office.
“Pompous ignoramus,” Jonathan muttered as they walked from the room, past the receptionist, and down the hall. If the situation had not been so serious, Virginia would have laughed at Jonathan’s unusual terminology. But she could not fault him for his frustration.
When they reached the outside, Virginia drew in a deep breath. She could finally feel it was over. They were going home. And Mindy was safe. Safe. She would not face the trauma of being torn from her family.
There had been a price, of course—besides the time and costs, there were sleepless nights, the unavoidable tensions in their home, the continual worry. But Jonathan had been right. It had been worth it all. They had not lost the horses. Nor the farm. They were in debt, but they were still young. Gradually they would be able to regroup, rebuild their operation. No sacrifice was too great to save their precious daughter.
Virginia could hardly wait to get home and hold her close.
Virginia busied herself with the garden and canning, and she carefully watched every expenditure for the household. Each penny she could save was one more toward paying off their debt. But she tried not to fret about money. The family
was intact. She still loved Jonathan and he still loved her. Their family seemed none the worse for wear after the previous months of uncertainty and fear. God had answered their prayers in a wonderful way. They had made it. Mindy was in the family circle where she belonged.
Virginia now awoke each morning after a good night’s rest, eager to take on the tasks of the day. The children, totally ignorant of what had just transpired, seemed even dearer, more special, in Virginia’s eyes. As she looked at Mindy, she under? stood more acutely what it would mean to lose one of her children.
Mindy spent the last days of summer helping Virginia with chores and riding her beloved Buttercup. And before they had time to really think about it, it was time for a new school term. And Martha could not have been happier. At long last she was to accompany her big sister to school. Olivia begged to go, too, and found it difficult to understand why she should be denied.
“Think of James.” Virginia resorted to the last argument she could muster. “He would be so lonely without you.”
Olivia considered that for a brief moment, then, “I think he’s too little to be away from his mama,” she said seriously. “You’ll have to come to school with him.” Now she had them all on their way to school.
“Olivia,” said Martha, her newly acquired status making her sound even more big-sisterly, “you need to be six—or almost six like I am,” she added importantly, “before you can go to school. You’re not six yet.”
Olivia, quite aware of how old she was because she had been counting fingers since she was two, responded, “I could be six if I put all of these and one from this hand.” She held both hands out in front of her.
Martha’s tone was frustrated. “Mama—s’plain to Olivia it doesn’t matter how many fingers you put up. You are still just as many old.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
“All right, girls—enough,” Virginia said, shaking her head. “Come here, Olivia,” she coaxed. “You are the only helper I have now. Can you put these sandwiches into the lunch pails?”
