A Quiet Strength

by Janette Oke

  Jonathan had left early for the farm. He had much to do, he had said, but couldn’t wait to be with her again at day’s end. He had held her closely for a long time, as though it was difficult for him to let her go. “I love you, Mrs. Lewis,” he had whispered into her hair, and she had thrilled at the words.

  “It won’t be long,” she had promised, smiling. “I’ll be here when you get home.”

  Already her mind was whirling with plans. She would have a special meal ready for her new husband when he came home at the end of the day. She would shop during her lunch hour and then pick up the meat from the butcher as she passed on her way home. Jonathan liked raisin pie. She would just have time to bake one. And biscuits. She would make a pan of fresh, warm biscuits to go with the fried chicken and milk gravy.

  Virginia left the small back bedroom that she now shared with Jonathan, still humming to herself. Another rain shower was drenching the world outside the living room window, but even that could not dampen her spirits. She smiled softly to herself, sure that it would be as Jonathan had said: Rain would always have pleasant memories for her now. It was in the rain that Jonathan had first told her that he loved her.

  Grandmother Withers was seated at the kitchen table, her Bible spread before her. She smiled when Virginia entered the room.

  “My, don’t you look like a day in summer,” she welcomed her new granddaughter.

  “Good morning, Grandmother,” Virginia responded.

  “Jonathan said you needed a little extra sleep this morning. What with wedding preparations and all, you’ve had a busy time of it.”

  Virginia had to agree.

  “I gave Jonathan his breakfast and sent him off with a lunch. He said he’d try to be home by six.”

  Yes, thought Virginia. Jonathan did not go without speaking with me. I know his plans for the day.

  She leaned over and placed a kiss on the older woman’s white hair. “Thank you,” she said, the joy of the morning still giving sparkle to her words.

  “There is porridge on the back of the stove.”

  “Oh, I don’t need more than a slice of toast.”

  “ Toast? That’s not enough to get you through the day. Best you have a little porridge. It’s damp and cold out there again. You’ll need some nourishment to keep you from the ague. Nothing like porridge to stick to your bones and give you resistance.”

  Virginia chuckled. It was rather nice to have someone fussing over her.

  “Okay, Grandmother. Porridge it will be.”

  She helped herself to a small serving, feeling hard put not to remind herself of just how much she disliked it. Sometime around her eleventh birthday, her mother had finally relented and not demanded that she eat it anymore. Now it was back to porridge once again.

  Well, it wouldn’t be for long. Once she and Jonathan were in their own home, she would gladly make morning porridge for him if he liked, but she would not force down a bowl of it herself.

  It was all Virginia could do to finish the bowl now. She was thankful when the last spoonful was swallowed. One glance at the clock told her that she must hurry. She crossed to the stove and filled the dishpan with warm water to begin the cleaning up chores.

  “ This Scripture has always puzzled me,” said Mrs. Withers.

  Virginia looked around.

  “Christ told His disciples that we are to hate our mother and father and follow Him. Why would He say that when we are commanded over and over to love?”

  Virginia tried to concentrate on the seeming contradiction, but her mind still kept jumping to her plans for dinner. “I … I don’t think that He really meant ‘hate’.”

  “But it says hate. Right here.”

  “I think the meaning is more … well … putting things, including people, in proper order. We are not to love family—anyone—above Christ himself. It is not family members who are to govern our lives. He is to come first—always.”

  “But it says hate. Right here,” she repeated. Obviously Virginia’s explanation hadn’t helped.

  “Why don’t you ask the pastor about it the next time he calls?”

  There was silence for a few moments as Mrs. Withers considered the suggestion. “Yes,” she said at last. “Yes, I think I’ll do that. He’ll know, won’t he?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “Will you be home at noon?”

  Virginia thought of her plans for shopping. “No, not today. Most days I will, but not today.”

  “But you don’t have a lunch to take with you. I didn’t know you weren’t planning to be home or I would have made yours when I made Jonathan’s.”

  “It’s fine, Grandmother. I’ll grab an apple from the root cellar on my way out.”

  “But an apple isn’t enough.”

  “It’ll be all right. Just this once.”

  “You should care for your body, you know. A woman has to think ahead. One cannot produce healthy children unless one is healthy.”

  Virginia had not been thinking of children. She felt her face flush. “I’ll cut a piece of cheese, as well,” she promised.

  Mrs. Withers seemed to be mollified.

  Virginia finished with the washing up and rushed to get her coat and scarf. She would never feel the same way about the rain, it was true, but it still made her just as wet when she had to tramp through it. She supposed it might spoil her noon shopping trip, as well. Then she forced a smile. She would not allow it to spoil her day.

  “Goodbye, Grandmother. I’ll see you this evening. I must rush so I won’t be late.”

  The woman turned her face up for a kiss and patted Virginia’s arm. “It is so nice to have you here with us, dear,” she said. “So nice for me and Jonathan.”

  Virginia almost winced. It was as though the older woman was making them a trio, rather than seeing Jonathan and Virginia as a pair.

  But later, thoughts of her new husband brought a smile back as Virginia faced the wind and wetness. She had hurried to the cellar to pick herself an apple from the bushel basket. But feeling its smooth coolness in her pocket as she hurried to her job, she remembered that she had forgotten to cut herself a piece of cheese.

  By the time Virginia got her lunch break, the rain had stopped, so she was able to leave her coat behind when she went out to do her shopping. The sun was now shining brightly, causing little shimmers of steam to rise up from the ground. The wind also had changed to a soft breeze, and fingers of sunshine reached down to caress Virginia’s shoulders and face as she hurried from shop to shop for what she needed for the special supper.

  Though she had visited the elderly woman often and helped with housework on more than one occasion, she had little idea what Mrs. Withers’ cupboards contained. So to make sure she would be missing nothing, Virginia mentally went over each ingredient for the dishes she planned to prepare for Jonathan. She supposed there would be some basics already on hand, but being sure was better than finding herself without an item.

  She was in a happy mood as she headed back to the post office. She would only need to stop by the butcher’s on her way home and pick up the chicken for frying. She would have to work quickly if she was to have the pie baked and the chicken sizzling in the pan, the biscuits hot and ready and the potatoes whipped by the time Jonathan arrived. But she was sure she would manage, provided that Jonathan did not surprise them and come home early.

  The post-office entry was never scrubbed more quickly than it was at the end of that Monday. Virginia grabbed her coat, picked up her bags of groceries, and started off for home, her cheeks warm in her excitement. Her first meal for her new husband. She would make him proud.

  CHAPTER 5

  The first thing Virginia noticed as she hurried up the walk was the smell of baking bread.

  “Grandmother Withers has been busy,” she observed with a smile on her way around to the back of the house. She tapped on the door. “Hello,” she called softly as she had always done. “It’s me.”

  She heard a chuckle even bef
ore her name was called. “Virginia, come in, dear. My, you don’t have to stop to knock. You live here now.”

  Virginia moved into the steaming kitchen. Now she smelled a roast cooking. She looked around the room. Yes. This was her home now. She lived here with Jonathan and his grandmother—at least for the time being. Maybe the cooked food would keep….

  “I forget,” she joked. But she lowered her parcels onto the kitchen table a bit uncertainly.

  “Looks like you’ve been shopping,” Grandmother Withers observed.

  Virginia shrugged out of her coat as she answered slowly, “Yes. For supper. I was thinking I’d—”

  “Supper? Supper is already on, dear,” Grandmother Withers interrupted, waving a hand toward the stove. “I’ve even baked a fresh batch of bread. Never baked much when I was here alone. Just went stale with no one to eat it but me. But it’s rather nice to have reason to cook again.”

  Virginia looked from the cooking pots on the stove to Grandmother Withers and back again. She wanted to protest, but she closed her lips tightly.

  “Jonathan does love fresh bread. And roast. Always liked roast. Thought I’d fix him his favorites.”

  “That’s … that’s thoughtful,” Virginia managed to say. It would be her supper that would have to keep.

  “You have shopped?”

  Virginia mutely nodded again.

  “That’s nice. You can shop and I’ll cook. That’ll work just fine.”

  Virginia nodded again. It really wasn’t much fun to shop. One did not get compliments from one’s husband for lugging in armloads of groceries.

  “I bought chicken,” she said. “Is there room in the ice-box?”

  “I think we can squeeze it in there. Jonathan likes chicken. Roasted with my special dressing.”

  “I … I bought frying chicken,” admitted Virginia.

  At first Mrs. Withers seemed to have to think about that. Then she smiled and patted Virginia’s arm. “That’s fine, dear. You’ll know for next time.”

  Virginia shifted around some items to make room for the chicken and began to unload the rest of her purchases. Grandmother Withers stood at her elbow, her eyes shining like a child’s at Christmas. “My, you have shopped,” she enthused. “Cooking will be a pleasure with such a well-stocked cupboard.”

  Virginia knew she should be pleased with Grandmother Withers’ response, but all she could feel at the moment was keen disappointment. Her supper would not be bringing a smile to the eyes of Jonathan after all.

  As it turned out, Jonathan was late for supper. He came in, an apology ready on his lips, eyes seeking forgiveness. It was to Grandmother Withers that he said, “I am so sorry, Grandma. One of the mares is down. She is one of the best I have, so it’s important to try to save her. I think there’s something the matter with the foal she’s carrying. Maybe the trip out was too much for her. I’ve done everything I know. I think I’ll try to get a call through to Danny. He might be able to give me some advice.”

  Virginia, miffed because of his lateness and then hurt by his seeming to ignore her very presence, felt immediately contrite as she saw the deep concern on his face.

  “Eat something first,” Grandmother Withers was saying. “Then you can go and do what you need to do.”

  “Why don’t you go on over to the folks’,” suggested Virginia. “They’ll help you reach Danny. They know a few of his study haunts. He’s hardly ever in his dorm room. Says it’s too noisy there.”

  Jonathan smiled his thanks and moved to his grandmother. “But I am sorry, Grandma. Supper smells wonderful. Sorry I’ve held you up. You should have eaten. If this happens again, please don’t wait. You and Virginia go ahead and eat.” He leaned over to kiss her snowy head.

  “I knew it would be something important to hold you up,” Grandmother Withers assured him. “Go wash up. I’ll dish up your plate.”

  Jonathan may have wanted to do things differently, but after a pause, he crossed to the corner basin and vigorously scrubbed his work-hardened hands. He was drying them on the towel when he turned to Virginia. “How did your day go?”

  Virginia found it hard to answer, but she managed a wobbly smile. She had been looking forward to Jonathan’s embrace. His kiss—even on the top of her head.

  I missed you, she longed to say. I could hardly wait for you to get home, and then when you were late I was afraid. I don’t know what I was afraid of. I just feared that you … that something might have happened. But Virginia said only, “Fine.”

  “Good,” he responded and turned to hang up the towel.

  The meal was a rather silent one. Jonathan made a few attempts at conversation, but Virginia could tell that his thoughts were still on the ailing mare. She wished there were some way she could reach out and share his burden, but she could not think of anything meaningful.

  “Virginia and I have already worked out our system,” Mrs. Withers said cheerily.

  “System?”

  “In the kitchen. She will shop and clean up and I will do the cooking.”

  Jonathan said, “That’s great! No reason she should come home at night and have to cook. But don’t go spoiling her, Grandma. We won’t always have the luxury of a live-in cook, you know.”

  He gave Virginia a wink and a smile that made her heart do a flip. Even Grandmother’s new system could not dash her spirits when Jonathan looked at her that way.

  He reached under the table and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Virginia swallowed, her face flushing slightly. When Jonathan’s hand moved back, it gently brushed across her lap. Virginia’s face felt very warm. Was Grandmother Withers aware of what was happening under her tablecloth? Virginia cast a quick glance her way and saw that the elderly woman was totally absorbed in cutting her roast. Virginia gave Jonathan a quick glance and saw the glint in his eyes.

  “I’ll make this as fast as I can,” he told the two women as he rose from the table.

  “There’s apple pie,” his grandmother informed him. “Sit down until you’ve eaten proper. Virginia, cut him a slice. We can have ours at leisure.”

  Virginia arose to do as bidden.

  Jonathan sat back down, but Virginia could tell he was anxious to contact Danny and get back home to her.

  When he had wolfed down the pie and was reaching for his broad-brimmed hat, he said he was off to make his call but would be right back. Virginia wanted to go with him, but she knew she should do the clean-up chores.

  She was halfway through the dishes when he came in again, still agitated and preoccupied with the mare. “Managed to get hold of Danny. He thinks it might ease her if I … Well, no use bothering you ladies with all that. If the foal is dead she shouldn’t be carrying it. Danny thinks it’s likely that’s her problem. I’m going back on out to see what I can do.”

  Virginia felt like protesting but she knew better; the horses were to be their means of livelihood. It was important that this mare be saved.

  Jonathan did kiss her then. As she stood with her hands in the dishpan, Grandmother Withers seated at the kitchen table, he walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “So sorry, sugar,” he whispered into her ear. “Don’t wait up. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be.” Then he kissed her on the neck, making warm shivers pass the full length of her spine. But she could not even turn to him and wrap her arms around his neck in return. Her hands were all dishwater wet, and she felt far too self-conscious in the presence of his grandmother. “I’ll be back, Mrs. Lewis,” he whispered in her ear just before he turned to go.

  Virginia had a hard time not adding tears to her dishwater as she heard the door close firmly behind her. She had the feeling it was going to be a long, lonely evening, even with the company of her new grandmother.

  Virginia tried to pass the evening in companionship, but her thoughts kept going to Jonathan. When would he be home? Would he be able to save his prize mare? What would it mean to them if he could not? Jonathan had counted on the foal to bring a good price the next spring
. At this stage, every foal was important.

  “Do you knit?” Grandmother Withers’ words interrupted her thoughts.

  “Yes,” answered Virginia, who had been trying desperately to make her mind concentrate on a book.

  “ That’s good.” Grandmother Withers did not explain why.

  “Sew?”

  “Yes.” Virginia squirmed on her seat and turned another page.

  “Good. Crochet?”

  “Some.”

  “Lots of nice crochet patterns. I’d be glad to teach you some in the evenings.”

  “Thank you,” responded Virginia.

  “Quilt?”

  Virginia shifted again, not sure where all the questions were leading.

  “I’ve done some.”

  “Braided rugs?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Withers nodded her head approvingly. “We’ll have lots of things to do together in the evenings,” she said, sounding satisfied. “I missed all that with Damaris, you know. I often thought what it would be like to sit and work together. I was so lonely when Damaris left, but not sorry that she did. You understand. She had to go. It was the only thing that she could have done. And now we are too many miles apart to share those mother-daughter things. It’ll be so nice to have you to do things with. Sort of make up for all of those years missed.”

  Mrs. Withers gave Virginia a smile filled with love, and Virginia answered with one of her own. It must have been so lonely for the poor woman. Virginia knew the story of Jonathan’s mother, Damaris, leaving home as a young girl and fleeing west on her own to escape a drunken father. Virginia thought of all of the things she had been able to talk over with her mother, all the meals they had prepared together over the years, and suddenly she felt very blessed. “That will be nice,” she assured Grandmother Withers. “What should we work on first?”