A Quiet Strength

by Janette Oke

  “I think it’s up time. My tummy’s hungry” was her usual wake-up call.

  Virginia was tempted to hide her head under the pillow.

  More often than not, Jonathan sent Mindy on back to her room to get dressed, and he crawled out to pull on shirt and trousers. “You sleep,” he’d tell Virginia with a kiss, “I’ll find her something that will hold her until breakfast.” And Virginia often did go back to sleep. She knew Jonathan would call her in plenty of time to get them all ready for church.

  What Jonathan and Mindy found to do on those early Sunday mornings Virginia was not sure. She only knew that the house was nice and quiet. She sometimes heard the distant barking of the dog or the welcoming whinny of a horse. By the time she had talked herself into getting up, the fire had been built, the chickens and farm pets fed, and their one cow milked. All things looked to be in order, and Mindy seemed to have either forgotten or else had something put into her hungry tummy.

  One thing is for sure, Virginia told herself as she watched the little girl dig into her breakfast. Her appetite has certainly improved.

  Along with the appetite gradually had come a more whole-some, healthy appearance. She was still tiny for her age—Virginia supposed she always would be—but she now did not look so pale and thin.

  Virginia’s one regret concerning Sunday was that, try as they might, they had not been able to help Mindy get over her shyness with the grandparents. They coaxed and cajoled and even tried gentle bribes, but the little one could not be persuaded to let go of Jonathan’s hand. Belinda baked fancy cookies, Drew offered sticks of fresh spearmint, and Jenny’s father, Mindy’s actual grandfather, came to church with pockets laden with treasures for her. It was especially difficult for him when Mindy clung to Jonathan or buried her face in Virginia’s skirts. She had discovered her own small, safe world, and she seemed still doubtful and hesitant to extend its borders or let anyone else in—even her own grandpa.

  Virginia watched Mr. Woods’ disappointment with keen understanding. He had already lost his daughter; now he was unable to make friends with his grandchild. Virginia repeatedly tried to reassure him, “She just needs time. It took us several months to win her over.” She could have added that they still had many days when they doubted that they had indeed won her over. Though certainly they had come a long way. Not only did Mindy love Jonathan, she loved his horses. Especially Molly. She was never happier than when Jonathan would boost her up onto Molly’s back and lead her around the yard, or place her up in front of him in the saddle as he rode Cricket or Chiquita off to check a pasture fence or see how the grass was holding out or if the stream was clear of debris.

  Mindy would return, cheeks aglow, hair windswept, and a shine to her eyes that made Virginia smile.

  The months of late summer and early fall seemed unusually hot to Virginia, who was feeling the weight of the child she carried. The baby was not due to be born until early January, and at times Virginia wondered how she ever would make it through the months ahead. She had escaped the ordeal of morning sickness, for which she was grateful, but she did seem to have unusual pain in her legs and back. Perhaps it was the lifting about of young Mindy or the work in the gardens, she told herself. She tried to keep her complaints to herself, not wanting to concern Jonathan.

  But he seemed to read the tiredness in her eyes and often expressed his concern. He made sure she did not need to carry wood or water, and he went to town to order one of those new washing machines so she wouldn’t need to stand over a scrub board. Virginia was concerned that the machine might be an extravagance they could not afford, but Jonathan pointed to the young horses in the nearby pasture. “They will help pay for it someday. They’re looking better all the time.”

  But Virginia knew it would be some time until Jonathan put any of the animals up for sale. He didn’t want all his hard work and careful schooling spoiled in a matter of days by someone unskilled in horse handling.

  Indian summer allowed Virginia to get extra garden vegetables canned and put the rest in the root cellar. She was also able to clean up all her flower beds and mulch her roses. Jonathan was particularly pleased with the unseasonably warm weather. Each additional day of sunshine meant saving on the hay for the horses during the long winter ahead.

  Mindy continued to thrive—at least physically. Virginia sometimes wondered if they ever would be able to take the anger out of the youngster. Her sudden bursts of rage caught them off guard on many occasions. They were never sure just what might bring about a tantrum—often something as simple as Jonathan leaving without her, a tangled shoelace, a book that wouldn’t stay open at the right page, a kitten that didn’t want to be carried.

  Virginia wished she’d had more time—and more information—from Jenny. There was so much about the child she didn’t know. She did not even know her birth date, and Mr. Woods himself was only able to give her a vague idea. They picked a date and marked it on the calendar. Until they knew better, that would be the day they would celebrate the child’s birthday.

  In the first weeks and months, Virginia had hoped Jenny would return. It seemed only right and fair that the little one be raised by her own mother. But as time moved toward their first year together, Virginia began to fear the possibility. She didn’t know how she could bear it if Jenny suddenly appeared on their doorstep and announced that she had come for her daughter. She didn’t know how Jonathan would manage the loss, either.

  And how would Mindy react? Would she remember her mother at all? If she did, would she embrace her or cower in a corner with her thumb? Virginia wasn’t sure.

  She now called them Mama and Papa as naturally as if she had been born into the home. Though she was quite at ease with either one of them, it was Jonathan whom she adored. Papa was the first name she called every morning, the last good-night of the evening. Papa was the one she mimicked, the one she squealed over with delight. So it hadn’t really been the horses that had won the little girl, Virginia realized, but the man who daily carried her off to the barn to meet the horses. Because he loved them, Mindy learned to love them, too. Because she had learned to trust the strength of his arms, she learned to relax in them. To lean against the broadness of his chest, knowing that she was safe and loved.

  The first snow came in big, fluffy flakes, causing Mindy’s large eyes to widen further. “Look, Mama,” she called to Virginia. “Chicken feathers.”

  Virginia laughed and went to join the child at the kitchen window.

  “No, it’s not chicken feathers. It’s called snow. Don’t you remember it from last year? It falls and falls from the sky until all of the ground and the house and the barns are covered.”

  “And the kitties?”

  “No. Not the kitties. The kitties will stay in the barn.”

  “And Murphy?”

  “No. Murphy will go in his doghouse.” Mindy’s eyes grew big with concern. “Papa?”

  “No. Not Papa. Papa will come to the house with us.”

  The child looked relieved. But she still seemed a bit doubtful. “When will he come?” she fretted as she watched the big flakes continue to fall.

  Virginia moved from the window and looked at the kitchen clock. “Not for a while yet. He has lots of chores to do.”

  Mindy stood at the window, eyes straining to see into the storm. “He’d better come quick,” she said after many minutes. “He might get stuck.”

  “He won’t get stuck.”

  “He might. It’s getting deep. Over my boots.”

  “It’s not over Papa’s boots. He’s tall.”

  Mindy considered that, seeming less concerned. But she would not leave her post at the window. Virginia continued the supper preparations. She did not need to guess when Jonathan was on his way in. A squeal from the window told her that Mindy had spotted him through the flurries of snow.

  “I think maybe I’ll see if I can find you a tree tomorrow,” Jonathan told Virginia just as they were retiring for the night. Virginia found it hard to beli
eve that another Christmas was approaching, but the calendar on the wall, the huge drifts of snow against the porch rails, and the weight of the baby she was carrying all confirmed the fact that the year was drawing to a close.

  “ That would be good,” she murmured from her side of the bed.

  “Thought I might take the Scamp with me if it’s not too cold.”

  Jonathan had taken to referring to Mindy as “the Scamp” when they were alone. Hearing the love in his voice when he used the term, Virginia only smiled. “She’d like that.”

  “I’ll set the tree in the entry and let it thaw some. We can put it up tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll get the decorations ready.”

  The next day held a sharp chill, but no wind was blowing so they deemed the day fit for Mindy to venture forth.

  Full of anticipation, her mittened hand held firmly in Jonathan’s, she announced, “We’re gonna get a Christmas tree.” But Virginia wondered if she remembered just what a Christmas tree was all about. There was so much of Mindy’s short childhood that she seemed to have blocked out.

  “Papa’s gonna pull me on the sled.”

  “That will be fun.”

  “If he gets tired, I’ll pull him.”

  Jonathan laughed.

  And off they went, Jonathan tugging the rope that sent the sled through the drifts, spraying Mindy with light, cold fluff. Virginia could hear her squeal even through the panes of glass that kept the cold at bay.

  They will have fun, she mused as she watched. I wish I could have joined them. She looked down, placing a hand lovingly on her protruding abdomen. But I’m not sure it would have been wise for you and me to tramp through the drifts just now. I sometimes get the impression that you are getting a little anxious to join this family.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mindy was thrilled over everything that had to do with Christmas. For the next several days after her trip with Jonathan into the woods for the tree, she coaxed and pleaded with him to go for another. She was not satisfied when Jonathan and Virginia tried to explain that only one Christmas tree in their living room was necessary. “We need to save the others so we’ll have them in years to come,” Jonathan told the little girl. She insisted that there were lots and lots of trees in the woods. Virginia said that they had room for only one tree, to which she replied that another one could go in “that corner.”

  “But we have enough decorations for just one tree,” went on Virginia patiently.

  “They could share” was her reply.

  Mindy finally had her attention diverted from Christmas trees when Virginia began to bake cookies. Mindy, who loved to get her hands in cookie dough, begged to help. Virginia placed a chair up to the table and gave the child a handful of dough and a small wooden dowel for a rolling pin. She rolled, then scrunched the dough into a misshapen ball, then rolled some more. The dough got smaller and smaller as little nibbles were taken and small bits fell to the kitchen floor. By the time Virginia finished her own task and turned to see if Mindy’s cookies were ready for the pan, there was very little left. When Virginia asked what had happened, though she already had a pretty good idea, Mindy answered that Murphy must have gotten it.

  Virginia followed up with a little lecture about telling the truth at all times. Mindy simply cocked her head to one side, pointed down at the mess on the floor beneath her chair, and said, “Well, if I opened the door up for Murphy, he would get it.”

  But the thing that seemed to intrigue Mindy the most was the Nativity scene. Small wooden figures on the fireplace hearth represented various parts of the Christmas story. Over and over she asked for the story about the baby Jesus. Over and over either Virginia or Jonathan had to act out the swoop of the angels over the night sky, the startled shepherds jumping up from their blankets and then rushing off to Bethlehem to see the tiny miracle in the manger. Over and over the camels had to thump their way across the sand desert of the hearth, looking for the baby Jesus. Each time, the little girl would clap her hands and squeal, then point to the manger where he lay. “Here he is. Here he is. Right here.” And the Magi would find the baby.

  She never tired of the story, of moving the pieces about, or the playacting. When she saw the children of the Sunday school act out the scene in the Christmas program, her eyes filled with excitement. And when the wise men arrived looking for the Christ child, she stood up in the pew and squealed aloud, “There he is. Right there,” to everyone’s delight.

  Virginia had hoped to have the family Christmas at her house, but with the baby’s coming so near-at-hand, her mother talked her out of it. “There will be lots of Christmases,” Belinda told her. “There is no use pushing yourself for this one. What with Mindy, the baby on the way and all, I think you already have your hands full.”

  Virginia did not argue for long. It was agreed they would all go to Clara’s. Belinda insisted that she would go over early and help Clara with the dinner, that Virginia would “only be in the way.” The two laughed and looked at each other with womanly understanding.

  With those arrangements in place, Virginia was able to enjoy a leisurely Christmas morning.

  Jonathan had done most of the shopping for Mindy’s Christmas stocking. Virginia did not feel up to struggling down the aisles of the local hardware store trying to pick out a dolly and a skipping rope. She was pleased with Jonathan’s purchases and could hardly wait for Christmas morning to see the eyes of the small child light up.

  It was even more fun than she had imagined. Mindy stared for a long time, openmouthed, unable or unwilling to move from the spot.

  “Go ahead,” coaxed Jonathan. “It’s your stocking. Your Christmas stocking. Go see what’s in there.” Mindy stood stock-still.

  “Come. Papa will go with you.”

  He took her by the hand and led her to where the red-striped stocking hung.

  “There, lift it down.” But Jonathan had to do it for her.

  “Now, come over here and we’ll look and see what’s in it.” He took her hand and led her back to their chair.

  Together they extracted each item, Mindy’s eyes growing wider and her face full of wonder. She exclaimed over everything that came from the stocking, clapping or squealing, hands over her mouth.

  When the last item was laid on Jonathan’s lap, she looked over at Virginia. “Did you see it? Did you see it, Mama? It’s all for me.” She waved two little arms in a large arc.

  Then she looked up at Jonathan. “I think I should share with Mama,” she said solemnly. And she picked up the baby doll wrapped in the blanket that Virginia had crocheted and took it over to Virginia. “There,” she exclaimed, seeming to feel much better. “Now you have a baby.”

  Before Virginia could respond, Jonathan moved from his chair to the floor, picked up the child, and sat her on his knee. “Mama doesn’t need your baby,” he said, eyes warm with anticipation. “Very soon now Mama is going to get a baby of her own. It’s going to be tiny—about so big. But it won’t be a dolly like your baby. It will be a real baby like Aunt Clara’s. Only this one will be much smaller—and ours.”

  Mindy listened. “Mine too?”

  “Yours too.”

  “Can I hold it?”

  “When we help you. You and I will rock it in the big chair while Mama gets our supper.”

  “Will it cry?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I hope not much. It hurts my ears when baby Martin cries, and it makes my tummy jitter.”

  “We’ll try to keep it happy so it won’t cry too much.”

  Mindy looked at Jonathan, large eyes solemn. She shrugged. “I guess it’s okay,” and she hopped up to go and retrieve her baby doll. But before she lifted the bundle from Virginia’s lap, she asked seriously, “Do you want to keep this one till you get yours?”

  “Thank you,” said Virginia, blinking joyful tears from her eyes. “I can wait. You can have your dolly.”

  Virginia felt strange throughout that final day of December. By midafternoon s
he knew that she was feeling more than an upset stomach. Soon she was counting contractions, trying hard not to feel alarm as she waited for Jonathan to come in from the barn. At last she decided she dared not wait longer.

  “Mindy, do you think you can find Papa?”

  Mindy’s eyes glowed as she nodded her head.

  “Now, listen carefully,” said Virginia, kneeling before the small girl. “Mama does not want you to go alone into the barn. Do you understand? I just want you to look around the corrals and see if Papa is there. If he isn’t, then go to the barn door and call. Just holler for him. If he is there, he will hear you. You wait—right there by the door.”

  Mindy looked puzzled. “Why can’t I go in the barn?”

  “Because. Because of the horses. They might … might not see it’s you and … think you are Murphy or something … and get nervous.”

  Virginia thought of the nervous black mare. She was on the verge of changing her mind about letting the little girl go when another contraction seized her, this one stronger and longer than the others.

  She waited for it to pass, her breath coming in little gasps. “Mama, are you sick?” asked Mindy anxiously.

  Virginia took a deep breath and managed a wobbly smile. “Mama’s okay. I just need Papa. You see if you can find him and ask him to come to the house.”

  She quickly put Mindy’s coat on her as she spoke and prayed that she would not have another contraction until the child was out the door.

  She watched from the kitchen window as the little girl made her way through the snow to the corrals. It appeared that Jonathan was not there. Virginia saw Mindy look around and then head for the barn.

  Another contraction took her, and she had to ease herself down onto a kitchen chair, supporting herself against the table. Calm yourself. Calm yourself, she kept repeating. Breathe deeply. Another breath.