To Love and Honor

by Irene Brand

  Rather than observing Larry’s approach, Violet admired Roger’s energetic walk toward his truck. His step was fast and springy, an unusual gait in such a large man. A widower when Violet first met him, he bore well the responsibility of rearing two children by himself.

  She turned to greet Larry when he stepped up on the porch.

  “Ready on time, as usual,” Larry said. Roger waved to them as he drove his pickup down the street.

  “Are you in trouble?” Larry asked, smiling, but with a hint of worry in his eyes.

  Pulling the door shut behind her, and taking Larry’s arm as they left the porch and walked to his car, Violet said, “Oh, you mean Roger. He directs the youth activities at our church, and he was soliciting items for the group’s garage sale. Roger was one of the first people I met when I moved to Maitland. He nearly gave me a ticket for neglecting to signal a right-hand turn.” She laughed at the memory. “And after he let me off with a stern warning, he invited me to attend his church. We’ve been friends ever since.”

  “Not the usual way to make friends, I’d say.”

  “Perhaps not, but I couldn’t ask for a better friend. In fact, he tries to befriend everyone.”

  “Have you ever considered leaving that church, Violet? It’s too conservative and folksy for me. You would be welcome at the church we attend.”

  “But I’m welcome at First Community Church, too. The large church family I’ve gained there makes up for the small natural family I have.”

  Violet tried to keep her voice from reflecting the irritation she felt, for she suspected that Mrs. Holland was behind Larry’s comments. She was ready to take issue with him, but he dropped the subject and looked at her approvingly. “May I say that you’re looking fantastic tonight? Mother will be pleased.”

  “You look pretty sharp, too. Perhaps I’m not the one to say this, but we do make a good-looking couple,” she said, eyeing, with appreciation, his black suit, snow-white shirt, and expensive silk tie, its rich burgundy and gray pattern a perfect contrast to his dark suit.

  One couldn’t help admire Larry Holland. With the family wealth, he wouldn’t have to work at all, yet at thirty, he had already earned his doctorate in education, and had been the principal at Maitland High for five years. His brown hair swept back from his forehead in deep waves, and his eyes were hazel colored. A square, jutted jaw that he’d inherited from his mother, kept him from being handsome, and in Violet’s opinion, the well-trimmed mustache didn’t enhance his appearance a great deal, but overall his looks were certainly worthy of notice. In height, he stood eye-level with Violet, his body slender. He was a man to be admired, and he had earned Violet’s regard both because of his personality and his proficiency as an administrator.

  Despite the heavy traffic, they reached the restaurant at the appointed time. They entered a room filled with celebrating guests, and Larry introduced Violet to his extended family. Larry’s brother, William, was a frequent visitor in Maitland, and she already knew him and his wife.

  As everyone began to eat the first course, Larry devoted his attention to his maternal aunt on his left, and Mrs. Holland chatted graciously with Violet, but eventually the conversation turned to a subject that distressed Violet. Was it by design or only accidental that Mrs. Holland asked, “Are you related to the Kansas City Conleys, Violet?”

  “I don’t know anyone in Kansas City.”

  “That’s too bad, for those Conleys are prominent, both politically and socially.” Mrs. Holland leaned back to let the waiter take her plate, sparing Violet the necessity to comment. She had been born in Kansas, so she could be related to the Conleys Mrs. Holland mentioned, but she didn’t ask whether Mrs. Holland referred to the city in Missouri or Kansas. It wasn’t wise to ask the matriarch of the Holland family too many questions.

  “Where do your relatives live?” the woman persisted, and Violet decided this was Mrs. Holland’s way of checking her eligibility to enter the Holland family. Larry must be getting serious in his attentions to her.

  Choosing her words carefully, Violet said, “I know nothing about my father’s family. He died when I was two years old, and I went to live with my Aunt Ruth in Minnesota. I don’t know any Conleys except myself.”

  “And your mother?”

  “I lost her about the same time, so I’m fortunate that Aunt Ruth wanted me. She gave me a good home.”

  “I would like to meet your Aunt Ruth sometime.”

  “Perhaps you can the next time she comes to Maitland. She visits two or three times each year.”

  Violet’s hands were clammy with cold sweat, and she laid down her fork, slipped her hands under the table and wiped them on the napkin. She was trembling inside, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious to Mrs. Holland. William summoned his mother to cut the birthday cake, and when they returned to the table for dessert and coffee, Mrs. Holland didn’t question her again, but Violet was nervous and apprehensive the rest of the evening.

  The next day, Thursday, was pure bedlam for Violet as she spent the day in the gym guiding excited students as they assembled their projects. Tables had been placed in close proximity to accommodate the two hundred exhibits. Violet was pleased with most of the students’ work, relieved that she didn’t have to choose the best entry. Janie’s project brought tears to her eyes, and she wondered how the girl, in the face of her ostracism, had the courage to display the evidence of what her life had been as a runaway.

  The exhibit, titled Life on the Street, was enclosed in a shadow box, and many of the models were three-dimensional. Although Violet knew little about art, even she could tell that the girl had great creative ability, and she decided to encourage Janie to enroll in some art courses. The background of the box was a cityscape, a dark backdrop of brick buildings, but the attached figures were in vivid colors.

  The scene portrayed the outcast, the struggling poor, the homeless, as well as troubled teenagers—all victims of an existence that had lost its meaning, lost all hope and faith.

  The caption at the bottom said it all. “There, except for the Grace of God, goeth I.”

  Violet was careful not to comment on the projects, for she didn’t want to give any of the pupils false hopes when she would have no part in the decision making. All day long, as she worked to arrange the exhibits, she thought of Janie and what her life must have been as a runaway. She wanted to help the girl, but where did compassion end and meddling start?

  To take her mind from Janie’s problems, Violet thought of Misty Gibson’s poor efforts to produce a replica of the White House. The columns sagged, and instead of being white, glue had seeped through the paint, leaving the structure a sickly gray. She and Roger had exchanged amused glances when he had carried his daughter’s project into the gym. Misty was a good cheerleader, and popular with the other students, but she wasn’t overburdened with artistic talent. Jason, Roger’s oldest, was much like his father in personality and appearance, but Misty’s blond hair and fair features indicated that she must favor her mother.

  Three judges from adjoining counties met in the gym at the close of the school day to make their selections and the teachers went home. Violet resisted the urge to return in the evening to learn the judges’ decision, and she was able to say honestly to the dozens of telephone calls from anxious students, “I don’t have any idea whom the judges chose. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see.”

  But before bedtime she did know the judges’ decision, and she learned it in a revolting way that both angered and disillusioned her. When the phone rang at ten o’clock, she was pleased to hear Larry’s voice. She had been so busy all day that she hadn’t exchanged words with him.

  After greeting her, Larry said, “I’m at the school now, and we have a problem that I think should be corrected before the students arrive tomorrow. Janie Skeen was not only awarded first place in her grade, but she was given the Best of Show award. You know what that means.”

  “Oh, yes, and I’m delighted. I thought her exhibit w
as fabulous, and it certainly deserves to be entered in the regional exhibition.”

  “Well, I’m not happy about it, and I want those awards changed.”

  Not willing to believe what she was hearing, Violet said, “Why?”

  “Would you want a girl with her reputation to represent us at a regional function?”

  “And why not?” Violet demanded, trying not to sound belligerent.

  “It’s unthinkable. There are other projects just as deserving as hers, and it’s going to cause trouble with our most supportive parents if we allow Janie to be the winner. I’ll admit her exhibit is realistic, and it should be—she has obviously seen all of that firsthand.”

  Violet felt sick. She had always admired Larry for his ability as an administrator and his fairness to the staff. Until now, she hadn’t considered that Larry was influenced by his mother’s narrow opinions. She conceded that many of the parents would be angry, for there had been some strenuous objection when Janie enrolled in the school. Violet had dealt with angry parents many times, but always before she had Larry’s support. He obviously wouldn’t support her now, but to do what he suggested was repugnant.

  “Larry, I will not change those awards.”

  “Then, I’ll do it. If you haven’t seen them, you don’t even know who was chosen.”

  “But I will know, for the judges send me a copy of their deliberations and the winners’ names. And,” she paused to draw a deep breath, “if Janie doesn’t have the recognition she deserves, I’ll make their report public.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Larry said angrily and terminated the conversation.

  Violet didn’t even go to bed for she knew she would never sleep. She agreed with Larry that many of the parents would complain long and loud about Janie being chosen, and she had enjoyed a good rapport with the parents, who had endorsed everything she wanted to do. She didn’t want to lose their support. But why should they blame her?

  And what about her relationship with Larry? His attention had given Violet more self-confidence than she had ever had. She enjoyed the prestige she had gained in Maitland because she was a part of the Holland circle. More than that, their relationship seemed to be serious.

  Was it necessary to sacrifice her future as a teacher, and her bond with Larry for the sake of a girl she had known such a short while? Violet had to honestly admit that the cost seemed high, but her conscience and ethical upbringing wouldn’t let her do otherwise.

  She could almost hear Aunt Ruth say, “Right is right and wrong is wrong. You can’t ride the fence between the two. Nobody has ever said that living an upright life is easy.”

  She envisioned Tom Walker, the minister at the local church she attended. He had preached a sermon on integrity a few weeks ago. His theme Scripture had been from Psalm 101, “No one who practices deceit will dwell in my house; no one who speaks falsely will stand in my presence.”

  And there was Roger Gibson, a man she admired. More than once she had heard him say to his youth group, when he was challenging them to live a cut above the average, “It is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.”

  It was a difficult decision to make, but as a Christian, a teacher, and a friend to Janie, she couldn’t give in to Larry’s demands. She would have to face critical parents without his support.

  A cup of strong coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a hot shower did little to bolster her courage when she set out early for school. She had to be on hand to answer students’ questions or complaints if there were any. Violet went first to the gym and checked the projects. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Janie’s exhibit still had the Best of Show purple medallion, so she wouldn’t have to confront Larry publicly on that.

  Overall, she was pleased with the awards and didn’t see why anyone should have any just complaints. Violet entered her room a half hour before any students were due, which gave her time to review her lesson plans. Her mind had been blank on everyday matters since Larry had called last night. After readying the equipment she would need for the day, Violet accessed the Internet. She felt faint with relief when she read her one E-mail letter: “You were right, of course, and I apologize. If there are any complaints, I’ll try to field them in the office. Dinner tomorrow evening? Larry.”

  Feeling as giddy as a kite in a strong March wind, Violet clicked the Reply to Author button, and typed in, “Sounds great to me. I’ll be ready at six.”

  When a bouquet of roses arrived during her prep period, Violet concluded that her friendship meant as much to Larry as his did to her.

  Although no one made any complaint to her about the judges’ decisions, Violet was alert to an undercurrent of discontent among the student body. As soon as the gym opened and the students learned the outcome, Janie had rushed into Violet’s room.

  “I can’t believe I won, Miss Conley. You were right—the judges didn’t know anything about me.”

  “It was a good project, Janie, and I’m pleased for you.”

  “Does this mean that I can be entered in the regional competition?”

  “Yes, but it won’t be until January, since all of the high schools don’t have their fairs as early as we do. The regional fair is held in Springfield, Missouri, and I’ll take you to it if that’s all right with your guardian. It’s during a weekend so we won’t miss much school.”

  Later, when Janie entered the room for her class time, her enthusiasm had waned, and Violet detected angry glances in her direction by some students, but they did nothing for which Violet could reprimand them. No doubt, in the hallways, they were giving Janie a rough time. At the close of the day, Janie came into Violet’s room, and though she was shedding no tears, her lips trembled.

  “My exhibit had been pushed to the floor. It’s ruined.” Violet was so angry, she didn’t dare speak. Disregarding the rules, she put her arms around Janie, and the girl started sobbing.

  “I knew my good luck wouldn’t hold. Nothing ever goes right for me.”

  Through clenched teeth, Violet said, “It is going right for you. You will go to that regional competition. You’ll have plenty of time to redo your project. Let’s go check on it.”

  As they started out the door, Violet saw the large form of Roger Gibson swinging down the hallway. His figure was even more prepossessing in his smart, brown uniform.

  “Hi. I came to get Misty’s project.” He looked from Violet’s angry face to Janie’s tear-streaked one.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Janie’s exhibit was awarded the Best of Show medallion, but someone pushed it on the floor. I’m going to see how badly it’s damaged. I’m determined that she’s going to the regional competition, if she has to do a whole new exhibit.”

  “Of course she is,” Roger said, and he put his arm over Janie’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ll help you pick up the pieces and go from there.” Roger’s support was as welcome to Violet as Larry’s had been.

  Miraculously, the shadow box had only a few damaged places, which could easily be repaired. The models had all pulled loose from the box, but only one was broken. Roger knelt on the floor and helped Janie pick up the items.

  “No problem at all to put your exhibit back together,” Roger said. “As soon as I get Misty’s project, I’ll take you home so you won’t have to carry this.”

  “Oh, no,” Janie said quickly, “I thank you, but I don’t want to ride home in a police cruiser. Mrs. Grady or the neighbors might think I’m in trouble.” Roger’s gaze met Violet’s over the girl’s head, and his brown eyes were compassionate.

  “Very well,” he said, “but I do want to invite you to our teen group at the church. You will find a welcome there.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Some of the teens who attend your church aren’t friendly here at school. I’ll continue to worship with Mrs. Grady. Very few young people go to that church, and I’m accepted by the adults.”

  The matter-of-fact way the girl talked about her os
tracism crushed Violet. So much stoicism in a girl of that age wasn’t healthy. “If you won’t let Lieutenant Gibson take you home, I’ll walk with you and be sure you don’t have any more trouble. I want to see you home safely with your project.”

  Janie nodded assent, and Roger moved toward Misty’s project. “I still want you to join our teen group, Janie. Think about it.” The grim expression on his face indicated that he would have some stern words to say to the youth he counseled. “I’ll see you at church on Sunday, Violet.”

  Since he had bidden her goodbye in that manner, Violet didn’t expect to hear any more from Roger until Sunday, so it was with some surprise that she opened her door to him, still in uniform, Friday evening.

  He removed his hat. “I have something I need to ask you, Violet. Is it all right for me to come in?”

  Violet unlocked the storm door and motioned him inside. Obviously this wasn’t a social call. He twirled his hat around in his hands a time or two, and his demeanor puzzled Violet. She had never known Roger to be ill at ease.

  “Violet, do you know Linda Conley, an inmate in a correctional facility in Topeka, Kansas?”

  Roger’s face blurred, Violet’s hands fluttered nervously, and her body sank slowly toward the floor.

  Chapter Two

  Violet didn’t black out completely, and she felt Roger’s arm around her, leading her to the couch. He pressed her head forward to her knees.

  “Hold on a minute.” Roger’s voice sounded a long way off. Soon, he sat beside her on the couch, supported her head and wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth. He brought a glass of water and forced a few drops between her lips. She had trouble breathing, and she gasped for air.

  “Tell me I’m dreaming, Roger. I can’t believe you said what you did.”

  Roger smoothed the damp hair back from her face, for he had been overzealous in wetting the cloth.