The Tender Years (18 page)

Her mother turned her head as she entered the kitchen. “Virginia. I was going to let you sleep for another half hour.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

Clara gave a little laugh, the closest to a girlish giggle Virginia had ever heard from her practical sister. She gave Clara a quick glance to assure herself that she was still the same person. She was. A flushed, bright-eyed Clara, looking more nervous than Virginia had ever seen her.

“
You’re
excited,” said Clara. “I could just …
fly away
.”

Virginia agreed that Clara just might do that.

Her father, passing by Clara’s chair, stopped and reached out his hand.

“Relax, Dumplin’,” he said good-naturedly with fatherly assurance. “I’ve never known a bride to actually leave the ground.”

Clara laughed again. The same high, excited laugh. “Well, I might well be the first,” she cautioned.

Rodney came into the room, still fighting the hair that wanted to flop forward into his face. “What’s all the ruckus?” he asked sleepily. “Sounds like a pen of clacking chickens out here.”

That brought another titter from Clara.

Rodney stared, then yawned. “So it
was
you,” he said around his gaping mouth. “I thought Jenny had already arrived.”

Warm laughter filled the kitchen, signaling the close family bond. Rodney poured himself a cup of coffee and joined the others at the table.

“Speaking of Jenny, I saw her in town yesterday. She said the sheriff has a man watching Rett’s every move.”

The words ushered in a dark cloud over the day. Virginia looked at her father for some kind of rebuttal. An expression of his outrage over such preposterous monitoring. But her father was smiling. She even heard a slight chuckle.

“I sure hope the man is in good shape,” he said, a smile twitching his mouth. “He’ll have to be if he’s to keep up with Rett.”

The words eased the tension of the room as family members began to picture the scene. Rett moved ceaselessly, sometimes covering many miles before returning home at night. Up hill, down hill, through swamps, over bogs, pushing his way through dense undergrowth or fighting his way across rocky outcroppings. It would be rather comical to watch another man try to keep up. The smiles turned to chuckles, the chuckles to outright laughter.

But in spite of their merriment, Virginia still felt uneasy. Rodney’s few simple words had managed to shadow her day. She would not be able to fully enjoy the excitement of being Clara’s bridesmaid or the swish of the soft material against her ankles. In spite of her aim to concentrate on the joys of the event at hand, her mind would keep going back to Rett. Rett and the man who tailed him, stalking, watching, hounding him as he waited for him to make some kind of self-condemning mistake.

The family and friends who gathered to witness the wed? ding filled the little church with their warmth and love. Virginia watched her sister’s face during the service, and as the vows were said, she thought she had never seen someone look so beautiful.

It’s not just the dress
, Virginia thought, though it was lovely, too. She had watched Clara and her mother as they carefully stitched and embroidered the exquisite gown.
It’s … it’s like Clara’s face shines from inside
, she decided.
I wonder if I’ll ever feel like that about someone
, she mused as she looked from Clara to Troy.

CHAPTER 17

L
ife had settled back into more normal routines during the week following the wedding. One evening there came a sharp rap on the kitchen door. Before Virginia’s father could rise from his chair to answer it, Aaron, Luke’s son, had pushed it open and stuck his head in.

“Aaron,” invited her mother. “Come in. We were just fin? ishing supper. Could I get you—”

A look at the young man’s face stopped the flow of words. “Something’s wrong,” she finished quietly.

“It’s Grandpa. Pa hopes it’s not serious, but he wanted you to know.”

“What’s happened? Where is he?” Virginia’s father asked the questions that were on everyone’s mind. A somber silence had instantly stilled the family chatter from around the table.

“Uncle Clare brought him in.”

“Where’s Mama?” asked Virginia’s mother, pushing back from the table. Her face was white.

“She’s with him.”

“Do they know—?”

“Pa thinks it’s a stroke.”

Aaron had not come into the room or closed the door. He just stood there, one hand on the doorknob, as if he was about to bolt as soon as he had delivered the message.

Virginia’s mother had fully risen now. Virginia could tell that it was the daughter rather than the nurse as her mother fought to control her emotions and her fear.

“Virginia, you do the cleaning up,” she instructed through trembling lips. “See that Francine reviews her spelling words before she goes to bed. I may not be home tonight. You might have to look after things in the morning, too. Rodney, you help with the school lunches. Danny—” She stopped with visible effort. “You all know your chores, there’s no need for me to go on so.” Quickly she lifted her eyes to her husband as though in quiet apology. “Your father will be here.”

He understood her anxiety and reached out a hand. She seemed about to burst into tears as she went to him. “I’ll go with you,” he said as he pulled her close. “Just … just hold steady.” He was patting her shoulder, pressing his lips to her forehead. “We’ll go—right away—as quickly as we can. But first … first let’s have a short word of prayer together.”

The prayer
was
short. Just a brief but emotional plea for God to be with their grandfather—to be with him and sustain him. To be with Uncle Luke and give him special wisdom. To be with each family member, especially Grandma—in Jesus’ name.

“Danny, run get your mother’s light shawl,” Virginia’s father said as he lifted his head.

No one had noticed when the door closed or when Aaron left them to carry his sad news to other family members.

It was a long, agonizing evening for Virginia. She went through the routine of cleaning up the table and doing the supper dishes by rote. Danny cared for his animals and pulled out his homework, which he spread across the kitchen table. He seemed to be doing more fidgeting than solving arithmetic problems, Virginia noticed. Rodney paced about after having volunteered to dry the supper dishes, seeming to feel that he should be doing something for his younger siblings but unsure of what it was that he could do.

Virginia hung up the dishpan and turned to Francine. Francine had not stopped weeping since the arrival of the news. The tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking handkerchief after handkerchief.

“What will we do if Grandpa dies?” Francine asked in a wobbly voice.

Danny looked up, fear in his own eyes. “Aaron told us that Uncle Luke said it wasn’t serious,” he reminded the small girl, and his voice was sharp with reprimand at such an awful suggestion.

It just brought fresh tears. Virginia had a hard time choking back her own.

“Come on, Francine,” she said in what she hoped was a patient tone. “We need to work on your spelling words.”

“How can we do spelling—now?” cried Francine.

It was a question that Virginia had been asking herself. Her mama had set her an almost impossible task.

“We must do it. You will be asked to spell them tomorrow.”

She cast a glance at Danny, who sat with eyes unfocused, chewing on the end of his pencil. “And, Danny, you best finish up your arithmetic.”

She was beginning to sound like Clara. Clara, who had now been married for a full week. Clara, whom she was missing more than she ever could have imagined. Clara, the one she used to accuse of being bossy. And now
she
was giving the orders. But how else could one take charge? Suddenly Virginia realized that it was not easy being the one responsible for the rest.

“Come,” she said again to Francine as she extended her hand. “We’ll work in the parlor and let Danny finish his work here.”

Francine followed, dabbing at her cheeks and eyes as she did so.

They got through the spelling words. Virginia had her doubts at first, but gradually Francine was able to settle down and think about the task at hand. She hoped that when the time for testing arrived, Francine would be prepared.

She put Francine to bed—in the big bed that the young girl had formerly shared with Clara but now had all to herself. She looked small and alone. Virginia decided to stay with her until she fell asleep.

“Would you like me to read to you?” she asked.

Francine looked surprised. It had always been Mama or Clara who had read to her—or occasionally Papa if he had the time. Virginia had never offered to read to her before.

But Francine shook her head. “I don’t think I could listen good.”

“Well,” corrected Virginia softly. “Listen well.”

Virginia sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Francine’s hair back from her face. Francine had already sobbed her way through her evening prayers, so she did not have to remind the small girl of that.

“Do you think Grandpa might die?” Francine whispered, her eyes solemnly on Virginia’s face.

“I hope not.” Virginia’s voice quivered.

“But he could—couldn’t he?”

Virginia nodded. It would be foolish to try to deny it.

“He’s old, isn’t he?”

“Pretty old.”

“And strokes are bad.”

Again Virginia nodded.

“Minnie’s grandma died ’cause she caught stroke.”

Virginia did not correct her.

“People don’t always die,” Virginia said, as much to assure her own heart as to comfort her younger sister.

Then her thoughts went further. It was a stroke that had put Mrs. Harmon in her bed, unable to move or talk or even care for her own needs. Her mama, who had done much of the nursing, had quietly confided to their father that it would have been a blessing if death would have taken the elderly woman. Virginia had overheard the murmured words, even though at the time she had found them confusing.

“If Grandpa dies—” Francine began.

But Virginia interrupted gently, “If Grandpa dies, God will take care of him. We don’t need to worry about Grandpa, Francine. He—”

“I know,” said Francine with a fresh burst of tears. “But I will miss him.”

“We will all miss him—terribly—but …”

What could she say? Her own heart was aching with the possibility that they might lose their grandfather. Life would be so different without him. She wanted to cling to him. To demand that God leave him with them. Yet what if God were to leave him like old Mrs. Harmon? She didn’t want that. No, she wanted him back—just like he had always been.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning before Virginia heard the door. She had not been able to go to sleep. Her father had been back once, about ten o’clock. He had checked on all of them, brought the news that their grandfather seemed to be resting comfortably, advised them all to go to bed and try to get some sleep, then had left again, assuring them that he and their mother would return later.

But as Virginia strained to hear the small movements through the darkness, she could hear only one pair of foot? steps. There were no whispered conversations. Only one person was stirring about, carefully muffling sounds. Virginia crawled from her bed. She met her father in the hallway, the kitchen lamp in hand.

“Virginia. Sorry to waken you.”

Virginia did not bother to explain that she couldn’t sleep. Instead, she asked quietly, “Is he any better?”

“Well, it’s a little early to be talking about being better. But your uncle Luke is encouraged. He thinks that things—that he’s holding steady.”

Virginia was not sure if that was good news.

Her father put the lamp down on a hall table and reached to draw her close.

“It’s late,” he whispered as he held her. “Are the others sleeping?”

Virginia nodded against his chest.

“You need sleep, too.”

He pushed her back slightly and looked into her face. “Look—why don’t you slip in and join Francine?”

Virginia was the one who had insisted on her own room. Her own bed. Her privacy. Clara had willingly shared her room with their younger sister. Now Francine had her own room, though the little girl did not really seem to fully appreciate the fact.

Virginia found herself nodding. Sharing it sounded like a good idea.

The next several days were a blur. Grandma moved into Francine’s room for those hours that she was coaxed to get some much-needed rest, and Francine shared Virginia’s. Virginia somehow managed to keep things going at home. Oh, not as efficiently as her mother did. But a routine, of sorts, was established. They all were fed and clothed and went off to school. Her father came and went often, and her mother occasionally. The chores were supervised, and the school lessons done. Clara came over frequently to help make a meal or deliver a casserole and a loaf of fresh bread. Neighbors sent in baking.

When Grandma Marty was there for a meal, her eyes had a faraway look in them, though Virginia could tell she tried to engage her grandchildren in conversation as usual.

The day finally arrived when Virginia’s mother, pale and exhausted from many nights of nursing, came home, sank into a kitchen chair, pushed a tired hand through neglected hair, and announced to an anxious family, “He’s on the mend now.”

It was the news they had all been waiting for.

But if they had expected life to return to normal, they were to be disappointed. There was still the disruption of the family as their mother’s services were needed. Day after day their grandfather had to be given nursing care and helped through endless hours of exercises and treatments to get his damaged limbs to once again cooperate, his muffled words to once again become clearly enunciated.

And with all the emotional upset, Virginia almost forgot about Rett Marshall and the unfair accusations. She seldom had time to spend with her friend Jenny, whose visits to the household had dropped back considerably, as though being in a home that was in upheaval was too unsettling for her. Virginia almost forgot about her secret discovery of having a crush on Jamison Curtis. Life seemed to consist of making it through another day. Even her fifteenth birthday passed almost without notice. Almost.

Virginia thought of it, but it really didn’t seem worth bringing up. Her mother came home looking tired but trying to be cheerful. She held Francine close for a long time as she watched Virginia prepare a pot of steaming tea.

“You have become so … so grown-up, Virginia. So efficient. I don’t know what we would have done without you over the last while.”