A Quiet Strength (17 page)
“Jonathan,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “I … I know this isn’t the time nor place. But … I’d really like to talk. Sometime soon. I’ve … been a bit difficult to live with. Jenny’s visit … well … it sort of helped me work it out. Made me face some things. I’d like to talk about it.”
She felt Jonathan’s hand tighten on hers.
“I was wrong about selling the farm,” she continued. “The horses. There must be another way.”
“Virginia, I think you might have been right. I only have feed for another few days.”
“But there must be some way. Something we can do.”
“It’s okay.”
“We’ll pray about it.”
“I’ve been praying about it. Lots. It’ll be okay. I can get along without my horses. Honest.”
“I … I hope you won’t have to.”
“Well, I’ll talk with the banker and see if he has any ideas for how we can work it out. Maybe we won’t need to lose everything. But if I do, it’s enough to have you and Martha and Mindy. I can be happy with that.”
Again his hand tightened on hers. That was the answer she needed.
When they reached the car, they found Mindy kneeling on the floorboards, leaning over Martha. The older child was chatting, the younger one smiling broadly. Virginia could not hear the conversation.
Upon seeing them, Mindy scrambled to her feet. “She didn’t fall,” she reported. “I asked her to lie still, and she did.”
Then as an afterthought she added almost shyly, “I think she kinda likes me.”
Jonathan drove Virginia and the children around to her folks. It had seemed forever since they had paid a call to her beloved childhood home. Belinda welcomed them with enthusiasm, and they laid aside wraps and settled in the kitchen while Jonathan went off to run some errands. Martha decided it was time to eat, so Virginia was occupied as her mother fixed tea.
“I sure wish I had someone to help me with the sugar bowl,” Belinda said, her tone matter-of-fact. Mindy still had not gotten over her shyness with others, even her grandparents. But the small figure did silently walk over to the sugar bowl and carefully carry it to the table.
“Both of my granddaughters have grown so much! I can’t believe it,” exclaimed Belinda over and over with a quick pat on Mindy’s shoulder and a touch on Martha’s head.
“Jenny came again,” Virginia reported. There wasn’t much more that she could say with Mindy listening.
“How is she?”
“About the same, I guess.”
“Still with her husband?”
“He’s asked for a divorce. She’s taking it pretty hard.”
“Poor Jenny.”
“We had a good talk. I was able to say some things I’ve wanted to say for a long time.”
“Did it help?”
Virginia shifted Martha in her arms. She smiled. “Jenny … or me?”
Belinda raised her eyebrows in unspoken question.
“I discovered some things, Mama. I found I wasn’t really living the faith I claimed. It got my attention—talking with Jenny. Here I was telling her about what she needed to do, when I was the one who really needed my own sermon. I decided I’d better do something about it.”
Tears came to Virginia’s eyes.
Belinda crossed to her daughter and placed her arms around her shoulders. It was awkward tr ying to embrace over the bundle in Virginia’s arms. “Papa and I have been praying for you. You’ve had a heavy load. I don’t know how you’ve managed.”
“Not well, I’m afraid. But I will. From now on. I’m finally on the right track.”
Martha squirmed and Mindy tugged at Belinda’s sleeve. “Grandma, be careful. You’re squishing our baby.”
J
onathan came back for Virginia and the girls before going over to pick up his grandmother. He had been to the bank, but from the look on his face the results were not good. He tried to hide it behind a cheery smile, but Virginia was learning to read his eyes and could see the shadows.
“No help from the bank?” she asked quietly as they climbed into the motorcar.
He shook his head. “Manager’s a smart man,” he said with grudging admiration. “He says I have borrowed to about my limit on the collateral I have. Living creatures—like horses—are not very sound assets. Anything can happen to them.”
“Anything can happen to anything, in this world.”
Jonathan managed a chuckle.
“So how were my girls? Made Grandma Belinda proud?”
Virginia beamed. “They were fine. Even let us have our tea in peace. Mindy joined us, didn’t you, Mindy? She liked Grandma’s cookies.”
“Martha’s too little,” Mindy informed her father.
“I’m sure Martha had her own party,” said Jonathan with a teasing glance at Virginia.
“No, she didn’t. She just nursed and slept.”
Jonathan chuckled again.
Grandmother Withers seemed not the least anxious when they arrived back at Mrs. Cadbury’s house. The two ladies appeared to have had a wonderful visit. Both were beaming good-naturedly and telling each other that they must do it again soon. Virginia pictured the difficulty in getting Grandmother Withers in and out of the motorcar and grimaced, but then remembered her self-made vow. If this kind of outing brought the older woman an afternoon of happiness, they could man? age it again.
That evening, after the children had been put to bed, the three sat chatting beside the fire in the living room for a few minutes before closing up for the night.
After a pause in the conversation, Grandmother Withers said, “You must wonder about my insistence on going into town today.”
Jonathan nodded. “Was a bit curious,” he admitted. “It isn’t like you to make sudden and unexplained requests.”
“Well, I had to see Annie. That’s Mrs. Cadbury.”
Jonathan nodded and waited.
“In the past she had asked me now and then about my house. Had a son who was interested in buying. I always said no—enjoying the flowers like I did. But I’ve been lying here thinking for the last few days. I don’t think I’ll be able to tend the flowers much from now on. And it’s far too much to expect you, Virginia, to run in and do it for me.” She looked expectantly from Virginia to Jonathan. When neither spoke, she went on. “So I decided, with things like they are, I’d best just sell the house.”
“You sold the house?” Jonathan could not believe his ears.
“I figured as soon as I get this cast off my leg, I’ll take one of the rooms in the boardinghouse.”
Virginia leaned forward in her chair. “Oh, Grandmother, you can’t do that. Why …”
“Now, you just bear with me a minute. I know you’d have me on here, but I’ve a mind you’ve enough to do to care for your family. I’ve quite reconciled myself to it. Even looking forward to it in some ways. But I did have that attorney—your father, Virginia—write one thing into the sale agreement. You are to have slips from any of the plants in the yard that you’ve a liking for. You have three years to make up your mind.”
“Oh, Grandmother” was all Virginia could say.
“And I’ve something for you, my boy,” went on Grand? mother Withers. “I know it’s been tough going for you—getting started here and having the setbacks with the mare and the fire and all. I had the buyer make out two checks. One for me—so’s I can be independent—and the other for you. I hope it will see you through until you get on your feet.”
“I can’t take that, Grandmother,” Jonathan said before Virginia could even cry out in delight. His face was ashen, his jaw set.
“And why not?”
“It wouldn’t be right. It’s yours.”
“Guess if it’s mine I can do with it what I want.”
“But …”
“Now, look here—do you think the few dollars that I got out of that little house will ever repay you for leaving your home in the West and coming back here to look after me? Do you think it will repay Virginia for emptying my slops and giving me sponge baths and putting up with a bedridden old woman when her own days were so busy she had to run to get through them? I know that you can’t pay for love. And I know that this is not enough. I know that. But it’s what I can do, and I want to do it. Please … please don’t try to deny me that pleasure, Jonathan. It’s the only way I have to say thank you.”
Jonathan left his chair by the fire and crossed to the woman on the bed. He took her in his arms and held her close for a very long time. Virginia could tell by the slight shake of his shoulders that he was weeping. She bowed her head and let her own tears flow as she offered up a prayer of thanks.
Virginia could not believe the different atmosphere in the home. Or was the difference in her? She still had far more to do in a day than seemed possible to get done, but her attitude about the tasks, about each of the household members, had changed so much that even the toilsome duties took on new meaning. Many afternoons she took time for a special tea with Grandmother Withers. Sometimes they played a game of checkers. Sometimes they shared a book or worked on some new stitchery. Sometimes they just sat and sipped and chat? ted. Virginia was surprised at how refreshed she felt when she resumed her duties.
Jonathan made the trip in to see the banker and paid off his loan. He bought feed from a local farmer to get his stock through what remained of the winter, assured now that the two-year-olds would reach the spring sale in first-class shape. Mindy started making trips to the barn with Jonathan again, and she continued to feed the chickens, cats, and Murphy. “I think they did miss me,” she told Grandmother Withers quite seriously. “The chickens all nodded their heads to say hello, and the kitties rubbed against my legs and purred. And Murphy—he was the happiest of all. He barked all over the place.”
Mindy still had occasional reservations about baby Martha. But more and more she was sidling over to the baby’s cradle to see if Martha would welcome her with a smile. Martha always did, gurgling and cooing and reaching for Mindy’s braids. But now and then Martha’s little fingers grabbed Mindy’s nose or scratched a cheek, and then Mindy would cry out in accusa? tion. Virginia tried to explain that the baby did not really mean to hurt. She just wanted to grab. She was still too little to understand about being gentle.
Mindy shook her head, angry and frustrated. “She should grow up,” she said on one such occasion.
“She will. She grows a little every day.”
When Dr. Luke announced that the cast could come off Grandmother Withers’ leg, the entire family gathered around for the exciting event. Mindy’s eyes grew big when he got out his tool. “Is he gonna cut Grandmother’s leg off?”
Jonathan reached down and lifted her up. “Oh no. He’s just going to get Grandmother’s leg out of that nasty white house it’s been living in for such a long time.”
But when the procedure began, Mindy still looked doubt? ful. “I’m afraid he might,” she said, scrunching tight her eyes and burying her face on Jonathan’s shoulder.
Jonathan held her close until the last bit of sawing was complete and Grandmother’s leg was free.
It looked whitened and withered and a bit sickly. Virginia wondered if the small child should see it and moved to stand in the way.
“Pass me those stockings, dear,” Grandmother Withers requested and proceeded to quickly make the exposed leg match up with the other. “Now she can look.”
Jonathan coaxed Mindy to take a look at her great? grandmother, and hesitantly the little girl lifted her head and opened her eyes. They widened in surprise.
“You’ve got two now,” she said.
“Yes. Two.”
“It’s unbroke?”
“Unbroke.”
“Get up.” Apparently Mindy wanted to see if the fixed leg really worked.
“Oh, I can’t get up quite yet, but very soon. Dr. Luke says I will need the help of a cane for a while.”
“What’s a cane?”
“A stick to help you walk.”
From then on Mindy insisted on having her own stick. Jonathan cut one from a dead tree limb, peeling the bark off so it was smooth. She carried it with her wherever she went. When Grandmother Withers began walking about the house, cane in support, Mindy walked right beside her, leaning on her own stick and limping along in unison. Virginia smiled. They made quite a team.
Jonathan returned from the spring sale with a broad grin on his face. It sounded like his horses had made quite an impres? sion on the buyers. “If they think those were something, they should see Cinnamon,” said Virginia. Cinnamon still walked with a slight limp, but that did little to impair her beauty. She was a magnificent animal. Head high, eyes bright with intelli? gence and high spirits, mane and tail flowing, coat glistening in the unusual brownish bay color that had earned her name.
“I’ve been thinking about Cinnamon,” said Jonathan slowly. “You realize I would have sold her if she’d been sound.”
Virginia nodded.
“Well, God does work in strange ways. I’ve a feeling that she’s going to be worth a great deal more to me as a brood mare than she would have if I’d sold her this year.”
Virginia’s face reflected her surprise.
“I think we will be awful glad we’ve kept her. Just look at her out there.” Jonathan nodded toward the corral where Cin? namon frolicked in spite of her limp. “Did you ever see such a wonderful horse? Match her up with Warrior and we’ll have ourselves one first-rate animal.”
Virginia nodded again. It was true. She smiled. God did work in mysterious ways.
“Look at them,” Jonathan said, his arm around Virginia’s waist as they looked out the window toward the corrals. “Each one prettier and spunkier that the last. We’ve got us some winners here, Virginia.”
“You’ve also got yourself a powerful lot of work,” said Virginia, the realist. It was going to take more hours than the day held to get all the new foals thoroughly broken and last year’s yearlings ready for the next spring sale.
“That I have,” admitted Jonathan. “But at least it’s enjoyable work.”
Virginia did not argue. She had learned that even though Jonathan was awfully busy, he was happy. And he brought that happiness with him every time he entered the house. The whole family benefited. She smiled. “So what are we naming this batch?”