A Searching Heart

by Janette Oke

  From the next room the muffled sounds told Virginia that her father was praying with her mother. But she did not stay to hear and understand his words. Instead, she took flight and ran down the hall to her own room, where she threw herself on her bed and sobbed.

  ———

  Jamison did come home for Christmas, but Virginia was so busy that she felt cheated. Her mother did all she could to free Virginia from nursing duties so she and Jamison could spend time together. But Virginia felt guilty if she didn’t feel she was doing her fair share.

  Besides, Jamison acted fidgety and distracted. He was full of thoughts and conversation about college and his church group and all the sports activities he was engaged in. Like Jenny, he seemed to find the small town a bit boring—though for a far different reason.

  “I wish you were done with school so you could come with me now,” he told Virginia.

  With all of her heart she wished so, too. “It won’t be long. Just one more term,” she assured him. “Besides, you will soon be home again for the summer.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be coming home this summer, Virginia. I have an opportunity for a job. It would pay much better than anything I could find around here. It seems like I should take it.”

  Virginia nodded, but her heart sank in disappointment.

  “Besides, there’s football. We want to spend a lot of the summer months sharpening up our game. We came so close to the championship this past year. If we work hard we can make it next year. Several from the team are getting jobs in town, and we plan to keep right on practicing through the summer months.”

  Virginia nodded again. But it was hard for her to think of the long months ahead without Jamison and no summer reunion to look forward to.

  “Then in the fall—” Jamison did not finish his sentence but held his arms out to Virginia, and she accepted the invitation for a warm embrace.

  “It won’t be long until you’ll be joining me,” he whispered into her hair. “I have so much to show you. So many people to introduce my girl to.”

  He released her but continued to hold her hand and look into her eyes. “I’ll be proud to show them the one I’ve been telling them about all year.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

  Virginia forced a trembling smile. She could hardly wait.

  ———

  When spring finally came, it was not any too soon to Virginia’s way of thinking. The long winter and Clara’s long confinement made Virginia feel totally exhausted in mind and body. Then she mentally chastised herself for even thinking of complaining, when her mother and Clara were bearing an even greater burden.

  With the arrival of the songbirds and spring flowers, a bit of her melancholy seemed to melt away with the drifts of tarnished snow by the roadside.

  Clara was not regaining robust health, but she did not seem to decline further, either. That was something that kept Doctor Luke and her mother hoping for the best.

  The baby is growing, Virginia reminded herself as she trudged home from Clara’s late one afternoon. Quite normally, under the circumstances. That is something to be thankful for. Indeed an answer to our prayers. Perhaps it was helping that Belinda spent a great deal of time and energy making nourishing broths and puddings to try to tempt Clara’s lagging appetite.

  And it seemed to be working—at least to some extent, though Virginia, watching Clara, felt that she often choked down the food more in an effort to save her child than because she found it inviting.

  “So how is Clara doing?”

  Virginia’s thoughts were interrupted by their neighbor, Mr. Adamson. He leaned on his freshly painted fence and peered at her from under his grubby, battered hat. He had already spent many spring hours out in his garden uncovering plants and coaxing forth blossoms.

  Virginia tried to smooth the worrisome frown from her face and let her lips relax into a smile. Mr. Adamson’s care and interest in her during her early teenage struggles made a special warm spot in her heart.

  “She’s still holding her own,” she responded, hoping it would sound like good news.

  The elderly man nodded.

  “And the little one?”

  “Uncle Luke says he—or she—seems to be growing just fine.”

  He nodded again.

  “Think Clara would like a little bouquet of those tulips and daffodils? Got a few new colors this spring. Look at the creamy pink ones. Pretty little things, aren’t they?”

  Virginia’s eyes followed the dirt-encrusted finger. The flowers were pretty. She was sure Clara would enjoy them immensely.

  “I’ll fix up a little bouquet for you to take on your next trip over. When you going?”

  “Right after I get my load of books home. It’s my turn to get supper for Troy and Clara tonight.”

  The frumpy hat nodded. “I’ll have them ready for you to pick up on your way by.”

  Virginia gave him a genuine smile. “She’ll love them, Mr. Adamson. They’ll brighten her day.”

  The faded blue eyes misted. “Missing Clara,” he said simply. And he turned away to survey his flower garden.

  Virginia knew what he felt was not expressed adequately in his few, simple words. And yet . . . yet, maybe it was.

  CHAPTER 4

  As graduation time drew near, Virginia found her excitement growing in spite of her busy days juggling housework and homework. She would soon be done with high school. Soon off to college to join Jamison. Soon considered an adult rather than a teenager.

  Even with Clara’s situation as difficult as it was, Virginia could not keep the lightness from her step. Surely, surely with all the good happening in her world, things would work out for Clara and her baby, as well.

  So Virginia went through each busy day dreaming and planning along with her classmates. The whole world stretched out before them, and each one sought to fulfill dreams in a little different way.

  Jenny was almost beside herself with anticipation to “be done with this grubby little town,” but every remark she made caused Virginia further concern. Jenny had again decided she would go to university after all and had applied and been accepted. Now she talked of nothing but her impatience to finally be a part of dormitory life. But the scenes she always painted were not of students with serious interest in preparing for a future career, but of frolicking young people intent upon making up for all the fun they had been missing when constrained by home and family.

  This was not at all Virginia’s perspective on college life. She expected to spend far more time in the library than in the fraternity house or nearby confectionary. Of course, in between times she would be with Jamison—discussing ideas from a class, going to church events, enjoying a soda together.

  Jamison had made up his mind about the offered job and would not be home for the summer. Another three months of letter writing rather than sharing experiences firsthand sounded rather bleak to Virginia, but she wrote that she understood and wished him well both in his work and in his football pursuits. “When I get there I will be your biggest fan,” the letter concluded. “I am so proud of you.”

  But Rodney was coming home. Virginia could hardly wait to see her big brother; Francine still brought up the changes in him they might have to face. Virginia tried to push those thoughts aside, but they continued to nag at her.

  One Saturday while she and her mother were taking a quick break from housework over cups of tea, Virginia broached the subject. “Do you think people change when they go off to university?”

  “Undoubtedly,” Belinda replied without a moment’s hesitation.

  Virginia felt an uncomfortable feeling deep in the pit of her stomach.

  “Why?” she responded, hoping her mother might give it further thought and retract her statement.

  “We change all through life,” replied Belinda easily, reaching to pour herself another cup. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip. Virginia waited.

  “But I suppose the late teen years might hold some of the biggest, fastest changes.�
�

  She seemed so totally unconcerned that it puzzled Virginia.

  “Do you think Rodney will have changed?”

  “I’m sure he has.”

  Still no concern in her voice.

  “Aren’t you—don’t you sort of wish that he’d stay like he is?”

  Belinda smiled, but she turned to look directly at Virginia. She put her teacup down on the saucer and leaned toward her daughter.

  “No,” she said with a brief shake of her head. “I do love Rodney—just the way he is—the way he was. But I have watched many changes in Rodney’s life over the years. Do you think I would want him to stay as that little preschooler I walked to school on his first morning? Or as that preteen a bit scared over his first job delivering the paper? Or as that high schooler with concern over his problem with skin blemishes and a first date?” Belinda shook her head again.

  “No. I love him. Have loved him through each of his growing stages. But I do not want him to stay the same. I want him to grow. To mature. To become everything God has in mind for him. To be a man. Accept responsibility. Be a leader.

  “And he will. I have every confidence he will. He’s on the right track—your brother. Following the leading of his Lord. I want him to change, but I never want him to leave behind the solid base he has already established for who he is deep inside. But I also want him to build and develop and carefully nurture that inner self. And as that happens, there will be changes.”

  Virginia nodded. But she did secretly hope that in the growing and maturing, the brother she had always known would still be recognizable. There was so much that she did not want to lose.

  And of course this also was true of Jamison.

  ———

  Graduation day started rainy and looked as though it would stay that way. Virginia groaned as she stared out her window. She had been named class valedictorian. Her mother had helped her to sew a new dress. Now the dripping weather threatened to drown all her excitement over the special occasion.

  Jenny, too, was to have a part in the ceremony. She would be speaking on behalf of the graduating class, summarizing the years spent within the halls of Hugh Carson High. Virginia did hope she would use wisdom in preparing and presenting her speech. Jenny had constantly tormented her on the way to and from school with bits of satire or downright rudeness that she claimed would be a part of her address.

  Virginia knew she was teasing, or at least sincerely hoped she was. But she still felt nervous and irritated whenever Jenny came up with a new line about this teacher’s ratty toupee or that teacher’s foul-smelling breath. She had informed Virginia that she intended to say Miss Crook was such a constant natterer that, upon retiring for the night, her false teeth continued to chatter even after she deposited them in their container. Or that Mr. Noraway once got his beard and his tie mixed together and trimmed two inches off of both, which he then pasted on his bald pate as replacement for his hair loss. She concluded with a flourish, “Town folks thought he had taken to wearing a ribbon in his hair!”

  Virginia was sure—or nearly so—Jenny would not be so foolish as to include such ridicule in her graduation address. But Jenny certainly was having a lot of fun teasing the class valedictorian.

  Now, as Virginia donned the new dress and carefully combed and pinned up her hair, a queasiness gripped her stomach that she had never felt before. Her hands were moist, her throat dry. She was nervous. Out and out nervous. Regrets that Clara would not be at her graduation—or Rodney, or her beloved Jamison—quickly vanished. Indeed, she took to wishing that no one would be there. Not her parents, her grandparents, her uncle Luke—or any other member of their small community. Even her concern over the dreary weather was forgotten. She could not remember a single line of her carefully prepared speech. Frantically she grabbed up the well-fingered note cards for one more perusal. She was sure she would never be able to deliver the address in any kind of coherent fashion.

  And Jenny? Would she really dare to present some of her outrageous material? Suddenly Virginia did not care. If Jenny really, really made a scene, perhaps folks would forget that she, Virginia, had disgraced the family name with her faltering presentation.

  She bundled up in the coat she had earlier declared she would not wear for fear it would crush her dress and gloomily followed her parents from the safety of her home.

  “I will arrive there dripping wet,” she mumbled to herself. “My hair will be a sight, my dress all wrinkled, my stockings splashed with dirty rainwater and my shoes soppy. I will likely catch my death of cold.”

  Her final regret was that the cold would not develop quickly enough to rescue her from her present dilemma.

  But none of the dreadful predictions came true—thanks to the care of her father, who managed to deliver her in a dry and unwrinkled condition. Her mother reached out to do a last-minute pat of her hair—more because she was a mother than because the hair needed it. “We’re proud of you,” Belinda whispered and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. Virginia felt a spark of confidence being reborn.

  The ceremony proceeded in accordance with their program. Jenny’s father had printed up the sheets as his contribution to the community and the special event. The principal included thanks to the local newsman in his opening remarks.

  Jenny gave her address. It contained some bits of humor but nothing that brought embarrassment to anyone. Virginia heaved a sigh of relief when it was over, and Jenny cast a glance of victory her way.

  A group of junior students sang a song dedicated to the graduating class, and the principal exhorted the graduates about reaching their full potential.

  Then it was Virginia’s turn. She walked to the podium on trembling legs, but once she began, she forgot her nervousness. Looking out into the audience and seeing the proud grin on her grandfather’s face and the quiet nodding of her grandmother in agreement gave her added confidence. She finished to a fine round of applause.

  And just as simply as that, it was over. She was no longer a student in the local town. She was a graduate. An adult. She thought she should feel something. Older. Wiser. But she felt nothing but a strange emptiness. An inner knowledge that she was now on the edge of the nest, ready to try her own wings. That she would need to find her own place in the world. Reestablish herself in some way that she didn’t yet fully understand. It was a bit frightening. She felt a sudden thankfulness that college would wait for a few months. She needed some time to make the adjustment. To discover, like Rodney, just who she was and how to establish her identity before becoming a responsible adult and leaving the safety of the home she loved.

  She thought she might understand—just a little bit—about what her mother had said about changing. College would change her. Would force her to change. She would never be a child again.

  ———

  Jenny found a summer job and began to tuck away money for the upcoming college year. Her father would be paying her tuition and board, she told Virginia, but she intended to make sure that she would also have money for clothes and parties. She was sure her father would not be providing adequately in that department. And Jenny intended to do a good deal of partying.

  Virginia knew there would be no summer job for her. Clara’s baby was due any day, and as things now stood, no one could expect Clara to take over immediate care of the newborn. Virginia only hoped that there would be no complications with the birthing. Each day Clara and the new baby took a good share of the family prayer time.

  Their mother had seemingly gotten over her earlier fears and, with the help of their father, had placed her confidence in the fact that God was in total control of the situation. Whatever the outcome of the impending birth, God would be with them and help them to face whatever they must face. It was in the middle of the night that the knock came on their door. Belinda was up and at the door so quickly, Virginia wondered if her mother had been lying awake anticipating it.

  Virginia heard the murmur of voices even before she could stand o
n shaking limbs and work her arms into her robe.

  Then she heard her mother hurrying back down the hall to be met midway by her father. “Luke and Dr. Braden have gone over to Clara’s,” she heard her mother say just as she exited her room.

  “How is she?” asked Drew, tying his own robe around himself.

  “So far they have no concerns. Things seem to be . . . normal.”

  “Are they taking her to the surgery?”

  “No. Luke thinks that under the circumstances she will be better if she is not moved. They plan to deliver the baby at home.”

  “I’ll get dressed.”

  The final statement from her father was an acknowledgment that Belinda would need to be there. He was prepared to get her there as quickly as possible.

  Francine came sleepily into the hallway. “Is it—”

  “Yes,” her mother answered without waiting for the complete question. She stopped long enough to brush Francine’s hair back from her face, cast a quick glance Virginia’s way, and then moved hurriedly on.

  Virginia turned to Francine, who had suddenly dissolved into tears. “Don’t,” pleaded Virginia. “We should pray—not cry.”

  She felt in no condition to try to comfort a sobbing sister.

  “I have prayed,” wailed Francine.

  “Then trust,” Virginia responded almost severely. Then she thought better of it and reached out to pull Francine’s head against her. She said no more, just stroked the trembling shoulder of her younger sister until the sobs subsided.

  “I have a feeling it is going to be a long night,” Virginia whispered into the darkness. “We should try to get some more sleep.”

  “I’ll never sleep now” came the sniffing reply, and Virginia feared that Francine might start crying all over again.

  “Then let’s go to the kitchen and have some warm milk,” she quickly suggested and led the way.

  “I wish Rodney were home,” Francine snuffled.