A Quiet Strength

by Janette Oke

  As Jonathan continued along the row of horses, they turned their heads and whinnied, wanting his attention. Hooves stomped in impatience and nostrils flared while halter ropes strained against the poles that secured them.

  Virginia took her eyes from the horses and looked at small Mindy. Her eyes were wide, her small body pressed up close to Jonathan’s chest. She looked absolutely terrified.

  “Jonathan … I’m not sure this is a good idea. Look at her.”

  Jonathan pulled his eyes from his beloved horses and gazed into the face of the child. “She does look a little nervous,” he agreed, his arms tightening around the small body. “Too bad Molly is at the far end of the barn.”

  It appeared he had no intention of turning back. Virginia followed meekly.

  Jonathan walked more quickly toward the gentle mare. “This is Molly,” he explained to the child, his voice little more than a whisper. “Molly. See.” He reached out a hand and stroked the rounded rump. Molly rewarded his attention by turning to look at him with soft, dark eyes. She did not so much as flick her tail. “Would you like to touch her? She’s soft. Just feel.” He carefully took Mindy’s hand and reached it toward the animal, but Mindy pulled it back with surprising strength. A small whimper escaped her lips.

  “Okay. We won’t touch. Not today.”

  Jonathan continued stroking the animal, who had gone back to her feeding.

  “Maybe that’s enough for your first day,” Jonathan whispered to Mindy, giving Molly one last pat as he turned to go.

  All the way out of the barn, Virginia watched the small child in Jonathan’s embrace. They certainly did not want to terrorize Mindy any further. If she really did not like the horses, it would be unwise to expose her to them.

  But the next day Jonathan came in midmorning and took Mindy’s coat down from the hook on the wall.

  “What are you doing?” asked Virginia.

  “Mindy and I are going to take a little walk out to see the horses.”

  “Jonathan, are you sure …?”

  “We’ll know soon enough. If she’s a little more at ease with them today, then we’ll know it’s okay. If she still stiffens up, we’ll back off.”

  “I don’t want her …”

  “Neither do I, Virginia. But we’ve got to find a way to help her if we can.”

  Virginia debated whether to go along or stay in the kitchen. At length she decided that for Mindy’s sake, she should be there. She reached for her coat.

  “You don’t need to come if you’d rather not. It’s chilly out there.”

  “I’ll come.”

  To Virginia’s eyes, Mindy looked just as frightened as before, but Jonathan was pleased. “She’s not as stiff,” he noted.

  She still looked stiff to Virginia as she clutched Jonathan’s neck, pushing herself against his chest to be as far away from the giant animals as she could get.

  But every day following, Jonathan bundled the little girl up and took her to the barn to see the horses. He had moved Molly much closer to the door so they would not need to traverse the entire range of stalls before getting to her. Each day he returned the child to the house with a bit more confidence. He was sure that sometime in the not too distant future, Mindy would actually reach out to touch a horse. Virginia secretly wondered just what that would prove, what it would accomplish. Simply touching a horse was a long way from accepting people—something Mindy certainly didn’t seem to be making any progress on.

  But she was less wary of Jonathan. She no longer flinched away when he came near. No longer curled in a ball in the living room chair, hiding her face against its back as he approached. He always spoke to her in the same quiet voice. Gently speaking her name.

  At the end of her third week with them, Jonathan came in from his evening chores and hung his heavy coat. He blew on his hands as he crossed to give Virginia a kiss on the cheek. “Brr, it’s cold out there. Where’s our girl?”

  “In her usual place,” Virginia said as she removed a pan of fragrant biscuits from the oven.

  Jonathan walked on through the kitchen and over to Mindy’s chair. Virginia watched as he wordlessly reached down and scooped the small child into his arms. He crossed to the rocker by the fire and sat down with her. Then, holding her close, his chin resting lightly on her silken head, the two of them rocked. Just rocked. On and on the chair squeaked softly until Virginia called them both to the table.

  From then on it was a daily ritual. Midmorning Jonathan would come in from the corrals, put Mindy into her coat, and take her for her tour of the horses. At night, when the evening chores were completed, he would scoop her up and hold her close as they rocked together. Then he added something else. Morning and evening he laid his hand on the little girl’s head and prayed for her.

  They were beginning to think they were winning her heart. Mindy no longer withdrew from contact. She even pointed to her coat on the hook when Jonathan came in to get her in the morning, and she often ran to meet him when she heard his steps on the porch. Jonathan and Virginia felt greatly encouraged.

  But she still did not speak. Made no effort whatsoever to talk. It troubled them, and they quietly discussed it out of her presence.

  “Do you think she’s deaf?” was the natural question. But Mindy did not appear to be deaf. She did respond to noise, turning her head when her name or some sudden sound drew her interest.

  “Might she be mentally slow?” was their next question. But Mindy seemed to understand everything they said to her and reacted accordingly.

  “I think we should try to get her to a doctor. Find out why she isn’t talking,” Jonathan said one night after they had tucked her in and were discussing the events of the day.

  Virginia nodded. She had already discussed Mindy with her uncle Luke. He had made some suggestions, but Mindy had passed each of the small tests with no difficulty. A thorough examination seemed like the next logical step.

  But before they could make the arrangements, there was a startling incident. Virginia was dishing out Mindy’s morning porridge when suddenly the girl cried, “No. I don’t want it,” and pushed her bowl off the table.

  They looked at each other in total astonishment. They did not know whether to laugh or cry. “She spoke,” said Virginia, shocked, delighted, and alarmed. Mindy had never responded this way before.

  Jonathan seemed to gather his senses first. “Mindy, you must not do that again,” he said in a firm but controlled voice. “Look—your porridge is splattered all over the floor. Now we will have to clean it up. If you don’t want porridge, you say ‘No, thank you,’ and then we will talk about it.”

  Virginia was still in a daze when she went for the cleaning rag.

  It was not the last of Mindy’s tantrums. By the end of her third month living with them, she screamed her protests daily, throwing whatever she held in her hand. Kicking and flailing until Virginia was sure she would injure herself. The docile, frightened child suddenly had turned into a small monster.

  Virginia and Jonathan looked at each other with what-do-we-do-now expressions. They were mystified by this abrupt change in behavior. Obviously there was a great deal of anger buried in the tiny body. Once Mindy had achieved enough security to express herself, all the rage seemed to be pouring out in quick succession. Virginia was feeling utterly spent by the end of each day. Tired, drained, and strangely unsettled, she soon realized that part of the reason was not Mindy at all. Virginia was expecting their first child.

  Jonathan was thrilled to learn he was to become a father. Virginia was happy, too, though inwardly she wondered how she would ever cope. Many hours of Jonathan’s day were spent with the horses. What little time he had was often taken trying to assure one small, troubled girl that she was loved and would be protected. Mindy soon felt she had every right to Jonathan’s lap whenever he sat down. If he was still standing, she would tug at his trouser leg, demanding that he come to their favorite chair. Jonathan had not found any time to work on finishing the inside
of the house as planned.

  If he’s this busy now, Virginia thought as she watched Jona? than working a horse in the corral, how will he ever have time to be a father to another child?

  And Virginia herself, already feeling she had heavier responsibilities than she could rightly manage, wondered how in the world she could take on more—alone. She found herself praying that Mindy would quickly work through her inner turmoil. They were going to need time and strength to deal with the new baby.

  It seemed to Virginia that one day Jonathan was coming in with snow on his shoulders and the next he was returning with corral muck nearly to his knees. As familiar as she was with farm life, she’d had no idea of the state of corrals in the spring when thawing ground and pounding hooves combined to make a foot-deep quagmire. It didn’t help when that same muck was splashed up trousers and even onto jackets. The weekly laundry task had Virginia wrinkling her nose in disgust and scrubbing her hands for long minutes after with strong lye soap. She hoped the warming sun would quickly dry up the corral mud.

  Now Mindy decided she should be able to go with Jonathan each time he walked out the door. Virginia had to endure an exhausting tantrum each time the door closed firmly behind him. “I don’t want to wait,” the child screamed over and over. “I want to go now.”

  Then Mindy discovered the magic word. “Please.” As far as the child was concerned, “please” was to be the unlocker of all doors, the overcomer of all obstacles. One morning in the midst of Mindy’s screaming to go along with Jonathan, she suddenly stopped and looked at Virginia with large, tear-filled eyes. Tipping her head slightly to one side and choking back her sobs, she implored in heart-wrenching fashion, “Please. Please I go now.” It nearly broke Virginia’s tender heart. She pulled the child into her arms and held her.

  The little girl seemed to feel that she had won the victory.

  “I’m sorry,” murmured Virginia, stroking her hair, “Mindy can’t go now. Later. Later you can go see Molly. But not now. No.”

  Mindy pulled back, her eyes dripping more tears, her mouth trembling in disappointment.

  “I say please,” she said, shaking her head in defiance. “When Mindy say please you are ’posed to say yes.”

  Virginia knew she was in for another angry outburst. How could one get a child to understand?

  “I think we need to do some talking about names around here,” Jonathan said one evening as he and Mindy sat and rocked and Virginia’s knitting needles shaped a small bootee. At first Virginia thought that he was referring to the horses. She had named three of the foals, but two remained unnamed. She just hadn’t been able to come up with names that suited them. Or maybe he was talking about possible names for their baby.

  But then he said, “We’ve sort of avoided figuring out names, but it looks to me like she might be around for a while. We’d best come up with something for her to call us.”

  He was not talking horses—or babies. He was talking of Mindy.

  Virginia had felt awkward about it, too. She nodded.

  “What would you suggest?”

  “Well, it seems a mite formal to ask her to call us Mr. and Mrs. Lewis.”

  Virginia smiled.

  “And I don’t think it’d be right to let her call us Jonathan and Virginia, either—even if her tongue could handle it.”

  “Some folks use Uncle and Auntie,” Virginia offered.

  Jonathan nodded. Virginia saw his arms tighten slightly. “Might do,” he responded.

  “But you don’t favor it?”

  He waited before answering. “I dunno.”

  Not a word had come from Jenny since her departure five months earlier. It seemed that she had no intention of coming back for her child. Virginia wondered if she had found happiness with her self-centered, arrogant Hayden. She deliberately forced her thoughts back to Jonathan’s words. Thinking about Jenny and her selfish husband just made her angry.

  Virginia waited.

  “It’s just … well, it just seems like the little tyke needs everything we can give, and if calling us like we were her own folks would help that any …”

  “You’d have her call us Mama and Papa?”

  He nodded. “Would you object?”

  Virginia thought about it. “No. No, I guess not. Seems like that’s what we may end up being.”

  Jonathan nodded again. It seemed to be settled. He snuggled Mindy in closer against his chest.

  It wasn’t until the day’s work was finally over, Mindy was tucked in for the night, and they had retired to their own bed that they had time to really talk. Virginia found herself looking forward each day to those precious minutes of sharing thoughts and activities and dreams for the future. It seemed to be the only time they really had alone. A time to be husband and wife. A time to catch up on not just the happenings of the day, but also the other’s feelings concerning those events. It was a time to pray together. To bind their hearts and spirits. Their own private, personal time to work toward becoming truly one. It wasn’t a whole lot different than when they were living with Grandmother Withers, but at least they didn’t wonder if they were being overheard.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jonathan had secured the help of a woman in town to care for Grandmother Withers. Mrs. Cadbury came by three times a week and made sure that the fires were burning, that the shopping was done, that the needs of Grandmother were met. But with the coming of spring, Virginia knew that Mrs. Cadbury, no matter how willing she might be, would not be able to also care for the large flower garden. One noon over lunch she broached the subject with Jonathan.

  “I’m sure Grandmother’s flower beds are in sore need of attention. They’ve been left far too long already.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been thinking on it. I did hire a boy to do the main weeding, but I’m sure he doesn’t know much about plants.”

  Virginia, relieved to know that the main weeding had been done, said, “I was wondering if I should go in for a day or two.”

  Jonathan looked at Virginia, a frown creasing his brow.

  “I won’t overdo it. Just trim things up a bit and maybe put in a few stakes.”

  “If you get to feeling tired, you’ll stop?”

  Virginia nodded.

  The next morning when she had finished the breakfast dishes and placed a lunch in the icebox for Jonathan, Virginia hurried Mindy out the door. “We’re going to see Grandmother,” she said to the upturned little face.

  “Which grandma?” asked Mindy, having already been introduced to three of them over the months she had been with Virginia and Jonathan.

  “Grandmother Withers.”

  “Oh.” That was all. As though everything was now in proper perspective.

  “I’m going to work in her garden, and you are going to be a good girl.”

  “Can I help, Mama?”

  “We’ll see,” Virginia responded, her heart twisting with bittersweet emotions at the seldom-used “Mama.”

  Grandmother Withers was already in the yard, trowel in hand and a broad smile on her face as she watched them arrive. Virginia could see that she had a crink in her back when she tried to straighten up. She reached a hand around to support her spine. Virginia noted the brief shadow in her eyes from pain she was unable to fully hide.

  They started to work in the yard together, Grandmother Withers chatting and pointing and giving instructions, Virginia doing her best to carry them out. Mindy followed them around with a small trowel in her hand, digging up dirt here and there and mostly getting in the way. Virginia was pleased to see that the boy hired by Jonathan had been doing his job. The beds were remarkably weed free.

  She returned home that night extremely weary but happy with what had been accomplished.

  “I don’t know whose son you selected for weeding,” she informed Jonathan, “but he has been doing a first-rate job on your grandmother’s garden. If I go in every other week or so, we should manage just fine.”

  It was a big relief to Virginia. She had be
en fretting about Grandmother’s yard work. And her own days were not getting easier. Even though the corrals had dried out so there wasn’t as much heavy laundry, her back still ached after every day spent washing clothes, sweeping floors, and caring for Mindy.

  In fact, her back seemed to ache a lot. It was all she could do to keep up with the weeds in her own vegetable and flower gardens. She showed Mindy how to feed the chickens, and the three-year-old took great delight in filling the watering and feeding dishes. Mindy also begged to be the one to feed the dog and the two barn cats Jonathan had decided the farm needed. In fact, Mindy seemed to take more pleasure from the animals than she did from humans. Virginia heard her steady chatter as she placed the food dishes. Virginia continually marveled at the child’s vocabulary. Once she had decided to talk, all the words seemed to be in place.

  But there were still the temper tantrums. The wet beds. The continually wizened thumb from all the sucking. Virginia feared that the child’s teeth would be damaged. But she didn’t want to resort yet to pepper or vanilla extract. The child needed assurance—and discipline. But carefully measured out, the one balanced with the other.

  Sundays were the only days that the farm routine changed. Other than feeding, Jonathan did not work the horses on Sunday. The Lewises slept in a bit later on Sunday morning. At least they attempted it. Mindy usually wakened them earlier than they would have wished. Almost before the sun peeked over the horizon, the door was flung open and Mindy bounced onto their bed.