The Virtuous Woman

by Gilbert, Morris

  “It’s time for you to come to God, Grace. I’m going to pray, and I want you to pray too. You can pray out loud or silently. Whichever you wish. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you tell God that you sinned, that you want to leave all that behind, and that you want to give your life to Jesus. Will you do that?”

  “I’ll ... I’ll try.”

  Grace heard Francis pray for her; then she knew it was time for her to pray. She did not know how, for she had never learned, but she whispered, “Oh, God, I’m so terrible! I’ve done such awful things.” She thought of the many bad things she had done, and they weighed down on her so heavily she thought she couldn’t bear it. “Oh, God, I need to be different! I ask you to make me different. Let me be clean. Forgive my sins in the name of Jesus....”

  Grace lost all track of time as she prayed fervently, letting her tears fall freely. When she finally said amen, Francis prayed for God’s blessing on her life. He put his arm around her, and she leaned against him, weeping.

  When her tears finally stopped, she became aware of a sense of peace in her spirit, and she could only utter thank you over and over again. She finally pulled a handkerchief out and dried her tears. “What do I do now?” she asked.

  “You start by telling God you want to please Him.”

  “I do, Francis. I really do.”

  “And I think you should call your parents. They’ll be so happy to hear this. But wait till Kevin gets in. He’s been praying for you ever since he learned you were his sister.”

  Grace was thankful for Francis’s arm around her shoulders. She was still trembling slightly, uncertain about what the future would hold now. After a long time, she said, “Francis, will you help me?”

  “Help you with what?”

  “With everything,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to be a Christian.”

  “Why, sure I’ll help you all I can, and so will Kev.”

  “But I want more than that. I want to go back home to Mom and Dad and learn to be the kind of woman they want me to be.”

  “They’ll be so happy.”

  “But I don’t know how to do that. You’ll need to teach me.” She sat up and put her hand on his chest. “Teach me how to talk and which fork to use.”

  He smiled. “I don’t think that will be too hard. I’ve always wanted to be a professor like Henry Higgins.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Just a character in a play by George Bernard Shaw called Pygmalion. He took a young woman off the streets of London and made her into a fine lady.”

  “That’s what I want!” she exclaimed. She looked at him with stars in her eyes. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “I think you are a fine lady, Grace. And I can certainly teach you which fork to use.”

  “When can we start?”

  “You’ve already started,” he said. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy for you, Grace.”

  She put her head on his shoulder, and he held her. She felt safe and secure and knew that things were going to be different.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A Moonlit Dance

  The two-seater plane banked as Kevin touched the controls lightly. He enjoyed flying Babe’s other planes with the open cockpits, but at times like this it was nice to take this one up and be able to sit side by side with his passenger. “Look down there. There’s the football stadium where we went to watch the Tigers play.”

  Lucy looked down. “Go down closer so I can see where we sat.” Even with the enclosed cockpit, the two were practically yelling at each other as they made themselves heard over the engine.

  He laughed and kept banking the plane slightly. “I can land on the field if you want me to. Maybe go right between the goalposts.”

  Lucy turned and smiled brilliantly at him. She was wearing a light blue dress, and her hair glowed in the sun that flooded through the windshield of the light plane. “All right. Let’s see you do it.”

  “I was only kidding. These wings wouldn’t fit through there.”

  “Take me over the river, Kev.”

  He leveled the plane, added throttle, and gained height. Soon they were over the Mississippi. “I never can get over how crooked the river is,” she exclaimed.

  “What’d you expect—that it would go straight?”

  “No, I’ve seen it on maps, of course, but when you see the real thing, it’s amazing how it twists and turns.”

  “An old river does things like that. New rivers, like the Colorado, are straight.”

  “How do they get crooked?”

  “They begin to eat away at the sides of the banks, cutting into them until finally you have a curve. Look down there. You see that little lake?”

  “The one right beside the river?”

  “Yeah, you see, it’s curved just like the river. It used to be a part of the river, but over time it became cut off from the river. A lake like that is called an oxbow lake. Funny thing about them,” he mused as he kept his hands lightly on the controls, “they don’t have life in them like the river does.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because nothing comes in and nothing goes out. That’s the way it is with the Dead Sea, they tell me. It doesn’t have any outlets, so it’s just a dead lake.”

  The plane went through a large cloud, and for a moment the earth was blotted from their view. Lucy looked over at Kevin, and even though she knew his face was scarred, she had stopped thinking about it anymore. Now she saw only the man behind the face and knew she was falling in love with him. She could not tell how he felt about her, however, for even though they had been spending a fair amount of time together, he never said anything romantic.

  “Why are you looking at me?” he said when he realized she was watching him.

  “I was just thinking how much fun I have with you.”

  “Do you really?” He smiled. “You wouldn’t have before I came here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was like the Dead Sea. I was taking everything in, but I didn’t give out anything.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “After my face got scarred, I just quit seeing anybody. I suppose Grace told you that.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “I felt so hideous, and when I saw people looking at me, I couldn’t stand their pity. So I just built myself a little world at home and did nothing for years but tend flowers and work on engines. I stayed away from people.”

  “That’s sad, Kev.”

  “Yes it is, but that’s over now. I’m going to be a famous flyer.” He smiled at her again. “And I thank the Lord for bringing me out of that prison I was in.”

  “I’m glad,” Lucy said simply. She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “It’s good that you’re out and into the world, and you are going to be a great flyer. Babe says so.”

  “You know what I’d really like to do with flying?”

  “What? Fly the mails?”

  “No, that’s a bit too regimented. Same thing over and over. I’d like to try one of those long-distance flights. You know, across the Atlantic—like Lindbergh.”

  “But that’s already been done.”

  “Sure it has. But I haven’t done it yet! And there are plenty of other things I could do. Like break the speed record from coast to coast.”

  “Take me with you when you try that, Kev.”

  Kevin laughed. “I’m a long way from that yet. It’ll take a lot of money to buy a plane or have one built that could break the record.”

  He turned the plane and headed toward New Orleans, and soon they were looking down at the Crescent City.

  “New Orleans looks a lot better from the air than it does when you’re in it,” Lucy said. “I never liked the French Quarter. People come from all over the world to see it, but it’s really a grubby place.”

  She knew the city well and pointed out the different sections of it as they flew over.

  “We’d better get back, I suppose,” he
said as the buildings disappeared behind them.

  “It’s been such fun.” She watched several puffy clouds pass by. “What’s Francis doing these days? And Grace?”

  “Well, today he’s out shopping with her. Buying her clothes.”

  Lucy’s eyes grew large with surprise. “Francis is buying clothes for Grace? What does he know about that?”

  “It’s part of the new Grace. Since she accepted the Lord, she has the idea that she’s got to make herself over completely before she can be a part of the family. So she pesters Francis to teach her how to talk and which fork to eat with. I tell her she can just be herself—that the family will accept her just as she is. But she wants to please them.”

  “What else is he teaching her?”

  “He’s giving her a complete education. He reads books to her and makes her read them. Makes her keep up with current events—” Kevin laughed—“and he’s correcting her grammar! Have you been around her lately?”

  “No.”

  “Every time she says ain’t he pinches her. Her arm’s black and blue, but she’s learning.” They were descending toward the airfield in Baton Rouge.

  “That’s a hard way to learn.”

  “I suppose, but she’s really happy, Lucy. When she first came to our place, I could see the unhappiness in her eyes. Since she’s been saved, she’s a completely different person.”

  “Yes, she’s been to church every Sunday.”

  Kevin brought the plane in for a smooth landing, and they rolled up to the hangar. He cut the engine, and when they’d climbed out, she smiled up at him. “That was a nice flight, Kev. Thank you for taking me.”

  He looked down at her as she stood by his side. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Lucy. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.”

  “What is it?”

  “Would you go with me to New York and meet my family?”

  She stood very still. This was the first time he had ever asked her to do something that would involve her in his life. She was surprised and at the same time felt a touch of fear. “I ... I don’t know whether I should.”

  “I thought you might like it,” he said. “But if you don’t want to—”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” Lucy said quickly, “but I’m afraid of them.”

  Kevin blinked with surprise. “You’re afraid of my family? Well, that’s silly! You haven’t even met them.”

  “I know, but they’re rich, and your father’s famous, and Babe and I have had a hard life. I wouldn’t know how to act around them.”

  He squeezed her arm and smiled. “You’ll do fine. They’ll love you. I guarantee it.”

  Lucy felt a surge of joy at his confidence in her. “If you’re sure about that, Kev, then I’d like to meet them sometime. But only if Babe agrees to the trip.”

  ****

  Francis felt out of place in the dress department of Bon Marché. He had insisted on bringing Grace to the department store and picking out some clothes for her. Now she was in the dressing room trying on a couple she had picked out, and he stood uncertainly among the racks. From time to time the saleswoman would look at him and smile, and he would smile back.

  I don’t know what I’m doing here, he thought. It’s ridiculous my trying to be Henry Higgins. I never thought that play made much sense anyway. He moved around and, from time to time, checked the tag of a dress, occasionally muttering to himself about the prices.

  Finally Grace came out, looking self-conscious. “Well, how do you like it?” she asked.

  “Turn around and let me see.”

  Grace spun around and then looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s swell, ain’t it? I like—Ow!” She grabbed her arm where he had pinched it, temper flaring in her eyes. “That hurt!”

  “That was our agreement. When you say ain’t, I pinch you.”

  “I didn’t mean in public!”

  “It’s the only way to learn. Education is painful,” he said with a grin. As a matter of fact, she was doing very well at improving her speech. She had a quick mind, and the two had worked on grammar every day for an hour. “You want me to kiss your arm and make it well?”

  “No! Keep your grubby hands off me!” She examined her reflection in the mirror. “How do you like the dress? I think it’s swell.”

  “It’s awful!”

  Grace glared at him. “What’s wrong with it? You don’t like anything I pick out.”

  “I’ll tell you why it’s awful. In the first place, pink is not a good color for you. With your hair color and your light skin, you need something darker. In the second place, it’s too tight. It makes you look cheap. In the third place, that style was popular several years ago. Now it’s outdated. You want me to go on?”

  Grace glared at him. “All right, then. You pick out a dress.”

  “That’s what I came for. Now, you just wait a minute.”

  Grace had often lost her temper during the “lessons” that she endured with Francis. She had asked him to help her with her clothes, with her speech, and with her manners, and he had only agreed after making her promise to do what he said and to take his word for things. As much as she wanted his help, it was hard work changing habits developed over her whole life. She had been willing enough as far as grammar and speech and manners, but the matter of clothes was another thing. She watched as he moved up and down the racks and selected a dress.

  “Go put this on.”

  Grace snatched it and went back into the dressing room. She took off the offensive dress, slipped this one on, and looked at herself in the mirror. A smile came to her face. “Well, I’ll be dipped! The runt does know something about clothes.”

  She went out and Francis smiled. “Now, that dress has class.”

  The emerald green dress was made of silk gauze with a round neckline edged in black. It had loose three-quarter-length pointed sleeves, an ankle-length skirt, and a matching sash trimmed in black.

  “It costs so much,” she said. “We don’t have the money.”

  “I’ve been squirreling some away.”

  “You can’t spend your money on me.”

  “Yes I can. You go get changed and then we’ll pick out some shoes.”

  “I’ve got a pair of shoes.”

  “You’ve got a pair of motorcycle boots and a pair of sneakers. Don’t argue. Go change your clothes.”

  She changed and then they waited at the counter. The saleslady commented, “Your husband has got good taste, ma’am.”

  “He’s not my husband. He’s my owner. I’m his slave.”

  Francis flushed, but the woman laughed. “He has excellent taste anyway.”

  As they left the dress department, Francis said, “Let’s go find you a nice pair of shoes.”

  ****

  “I can’t learn all this stuff, Francis.”

  Francis turned the heat down under the gumbo. “Yes you can. Now, tell me again what’s happening in Europe.”

  Francis had insisted that Grace learn about current world affairs. He was shocked at how little she knew and had begun buying newspapers and news magazines for her. He gave her assignments every day and the next day grilled her on what she had learned.

  “Well,” Grace said, her brow wrinkled, “that man you made me read about, Adolf Hitler, has passed some laws.”

  “What’s the name of them?” He started mashing the potatoes.

  “Let me see. I forget. Oh yeah, the Nuremberg Laws.”

  “And what are the Nuremberg Laws?”

  “The paper said they’ve made Jews second-class citizens.”

  “And what else?”

  “Umm, they’ve made sex between Jews and non-Jews a capital offense. What does that mean?”

  “It means the man’s a fanatic. I think he’s the most dangerous man in Europe. Did you read the old magazines I found with the stories about him?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand most of them.”

  “Okay, just tell me what you do
understand.”

  “Okay—in 1933 Hitler was the leader of the Nazi party, and he became chancellor of Germany. And he grabbed all the power.”

  “That’s right.” He checked on the crawfish. “Let’s move on to art. Can you name a famous contemporary sculptor?”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “I remember Barbara Hepworth. But her sculptures just look like odd shapes to me.”

  “That’s called nonrepresentational sculpture.”

  “It just looks strange to me.”

  “Well, when somebody talks to you about sculpture, just tell them how great her work is! Now, who’s a top movie star?”

  “Fred Astaire.”

  “And what’s his latest film?”

  “Top Hat. I know stuff like that.”

  Francis had taken her to see the film, and she had been delighted. “I’m tired of studying. Let me help you with supper.”

  “All right. You set the table. It’s almost ready.”

  When they sat down to supper, he said, “You ask the blessing.”

  “I’m not very good at that, but I’ll try.” They bowed their heads, and she asked a simple blessing. When she looked up, her eyes were sparkling. “I never thought I’d be able to do anything like pray in front of anyone. I still don’t do it well.”

  “Yes you do. You’re very simple and direct, and I think that’s what God likes.” He picked up his fork. “Tell me how you like this crawfish.”

  She took a bite. “I’ve finally gotten used to eating it, but I still say they look like bugs—and I’m not gonna suck the heads.”

  “You’ll never be a true Louisianan until you do that.”

  “I have learned to love gumbo, so maybe I am a true Louisianan after all.”

  He guided the subject back to her studies. “Did you read Oliver Twist?”

  “Yes, I read it, but it was awful. Why would anybody wanna write about a poor orphan that gets mistreated by everyone?”

  “Dickens wrote to entertain, but he also wrote to educate people and change things. You see, he thought if he’d write about the evils that were in his world, people would read about them and do something about them.”

  “Did they?”