A Searching Heart

by Janette Oke

  Virginia was not sure whether to be happy or disappointed.

  “What is—what is he like?” she asked a bit tentatively, needing more information but not wanting to pry.

  Mr. Woods didn’t seem to mind. “Like Jenny, I’m afraid.” He shook his head. “Likes to live high and fast. One of the night-life crowd.”

  Now Virginia did feel upset.

  “Sure hasn’t any interest in church at all,” went on Mr. Woods. “Neither of ’em.”

  “I’m so sorry,” whispered Virginia.

  The man’s shoulders sagged. “You reap what you sow, just like Scripture says. I resisted the church and all it stood for during the years that Jenny was growing up. I can’t really expect her to turn to it now. I’d give my life to change that if I could.”

  Virginia felt so sorry for him. It didn’t seem fair that he should have to carry this burden of Jenny’s sins.

  “And you think she’ll stay there?”

  “I’m sure she won’t come back here. She always did think it a dead town.”

  “I know,” admitted Virginia, “but I was hoping. . . .”

  “I was, too.”

  “I’ll write her again.”

  Even as Virginia spoke the words, she knew it would do little good. Jenny had not responded to her last three letters. Now, hearing of the young man in Jenny’s life, Virginia was even more disappointed at her silence. Under normal circumstances, Jenny would have at least written to tell Virginia her good news. Did this mean that Jenny had completely crossed her off as a friend?

  ———

  Rodney and Grace’s wedding was a wonderful event for all of them. The trip to the city was exciting, the stay in Grace’s beautiful home an experience they would never forget, and the wedding itself one that touched the hearts of all who attended.

  It was a simple wedding, even by small-town standards. Only family members and close friends had been invited. The Bremington newspaper’s society page had headlined it, Millionaire’s Orphan Daughter Weds Small-Town Boy In Simple Ceremony. The columnist reported on the family fortune, the unusual young woman who now inherited all right to it, and the simple lifestyle she had chosen in place of taking her rightful spot in society. “A reverse of the Cinderella story,” said the writer. “Heir claims that much of the family wealth will be set up in a trust fund to help educate worthy students in the fields of medicine and missions.” The writer did not have to spell out the fact that he—or she—was in no way able to understand such unlikely reasoning.

  Grace would not even read the article. “I have no idea where they researched their facts,” she said with some disdain. “They certainly didn’t get them from me.”

  However, Virginia knew that Grace and Rodney did intend to set up the trust fund. They had talked to her mother and father about it. Grace was particularly interested in sharing the plan when she learned that Belinda herself had turned her back on a fortune and put the funds to sheltering the elderly instead.

  “Have you ever been sorry?” Grace had asked candidly.

  “Never,” said Belinda, not a shade of doubt in her voice or manner.

  Though the wedding itself was small, Grace looked like a princess in her long, flowing white satin, the veil of lace trailing down the aisle behind her. Virginia and Danny, along with two of the bridal couple’s friends from university, were the only attendants. Grace said she felt no need to fill the aisle with people who meant little to them just because society dictated that one should.

  Following the ceremony, a small reception was held in a local hotel ballroom. This one did meet with all of Virginia’s dreams of elegance. Huge chandeliers hung from overhead, sending splashes of soft mini-rainbows over the white linens that draped the tables. Bouquets of flowers, larger than any that Virginia had ever seen, graced each available cherry cabinet or marble mantel. The carpet on the floor was so luxurious that it felt like they were walking on the softest of newly mown lawn.

  “Ooh,” exclaimed Francine, “this is the way to live. How can she ever leave all this behind?”

  Then the young Francine, who more often than not had her pretty head in some dream cloud, followed with, “Ooh, I wish she had a brother.”

  “I don’t know what possible good that would do you,” responded Danny in typical older brother style, dutifully doing his part to keep his younger sister’s feet firmly on the ground.

  Virginia caught Francine’s disgusted scowl.

  The truth was, Francine had developed into a very attractive young lady. Too attractive, Virginia often thought. She feared that the prettiness, plus all of the attention that it drew, would go to the young girl’s head. She silently applauded Danny for setting the girl back on her heels again.

  “She doesn’t even have cousins,” Francine moaned to Virginia when they were out of Danny’s earshot.

  “No, and she doesn’t even have a fortune—at least she won’t once the fund is properly set up.”

  Francine looked disappointed all over again.

  “First Mama—and now Grace,” she murmured in disgust. “Just think, we could have been living in a mansion all these years ourselves.”

  “Have you been unhappy?” quizzed Virginia.

  Francine gave her a scathing look and did not answer. Instead, she said, “Is Papa going to set the fund up for her?”

  “No,” replied Virginia. “He has put them in touch with a lawyer here in Bremington. Someone he is sure they can trust.”

  “I still think they should have kept some of it.”

  “They will keep some of it. They are investing—”

  “But the house—they should have kept that gorgeous house! Can you imagine giving up something like that?”

  “A gorgeous house does not always bring happiness,” Virginia replied. “ ‘Little is much, if love abides.’ ”

  “Who said that?” demanded Francine.

  “I don’t know,” shrugged Virginia. “Some wise soul.”

  “Daft, to my thinking,” sniffed Francine.

  Virginia smiled. She was sure that the young Francine would eventually get her priorities straight. She did hope, for the sake of all of them, that it didn’t take too long.

  ———

  “I think we’ve found a buyer for Mr. Adamson’s house,” Virginia’s father announced at the supper table.

  Virginia looked up, her heart constricting with sadness. She had been hoping that the house would not sell. She had even dared to hope that one day, with her saving of monthly wages, she might be able to offer a bid. Now her hopes were being dashed.

  “Someone local?” Belinda wondered.

  “No. In fact, they are coming from down south. They farmed down there, but the man passed away and the woman needs a place. Her daughter wants her in a town with a doctor. Understand she isn’t in very good health.”

  “Another patient for Luke. He’s worked nearly off his feet already.”

  “Or maybe it’ll be another patient for Dr. Braden.”

  Belinda nodded.

  “How boring,” put in Francine, who must have been hoping for a much younger occupant with an interesting son or two.

  “Anyway,” went on her father, “they are to come up to take a look at it on Saturday. Understand that the daughter and her husband live somewhere out west and need to get the mother settled as quickly as possible so they can get back home. Sounds like a pretty good chance they’ll take it.”

  Belinda smiled. “It will be good to have neighbors again.”

  “A neighbor,” corrected her husband. “She’ll be living alone.”

  “A neighbor then. You say she hasn’t been well. Is she elderly?”

  “Sounds like it. But I really don’t know her age.”

  Virginia let her mind travel over the information. If an elderly, ailing woman moved in next door, the gardens would go unattended. She couldn’t bear the thought of Mr. Adamson’s flowers being neglected. Oh dear, she thought to herself. This will solve nothing. I do hope th
ey decide it doesn’t suit.

  But Virginia said nothing.

  She decided to make it another item for prayer. She would not be selfish. At least she would try hard not to be. Instead of praying for her own way regarding the little house, she would pray that God’s will be done. She couldn’t help but hope that God’s will might be closely matched to her own.

  ———

  When Saturday arrived, a car pulled up next door around noon, and Virginia’s father put on his suit coat and went over to meet them as arranged. Virginia tried not to be obvious, but it was hard to see what was going on without going out into the yard. She pretended to be trimming her mother’s favorite rosebush, though an unspoken rule was that no one was to touch it except Belinda herself.

  It actually was too late in the fall to be doing much in the yard, and her father had already raked the autumn leaves. Virginia snipped at a stray twig here and there and stole a peek now and then. A pleasant-looking woman gently led an older lady toward the house while a rather tall man stood talking to her father, his broad back toward the Simpson yard.

  The two ladies chatted amiably as they took the walk toward the house. The elder stopped often to admire one plant or another, even though the time of flowers was past and most of the leaves now lay in colored crazy-quilt fashion on the ground beneath the bushes.

  “What is that? A lilac bush, do you think?” Virginia heard the older woman ask. “Oh, I do hope so. I love lilacs. I remember Mama had a lilac when I was a girl. It had the most beautiful lavender blossoms, and in the spring when it bloomed, you could smell it throughout the whole yard.”

  That one is pink, Virginia wanted to answer. And its fragrance fills the whole block.

  “And is that a Hansa rose? They are lovely. Bloom all summer long.”

  On and on they went, exclaiming over Mr. Adamson’s sleeping flowers.

  “Oh, I don’t think that I will be able to bear waiting for spring,” the elderly woman enthused as her daughter coaxed her on down the walkway. Virginia noted that she walked with a distinct limp.

  And who will be taking care of the flowers? Virginia wondered. Surely they don’t think that a garden cares for itself.

  They rounded the corner and passed out of earshot. Virginia turned her attention back to the man still speaking with her father.

  “My wife used to live about forty miles southwest,” she heard him say. “Hasn’t been back much since she was a girl. Only to visit now and then. But it’s been much dryer down there. Things sure don’t grow like they do here. It’s pretty here. Real pretty. Bet it looks real nice in the spring and summer.”

  Belinda’s father agreed. “But not everyone in town has a garden like Mr. Adamson,” he hastened to add. “The old gentleman spent all his time tending it.”

  Tell him, Papa. Virginia longed to cheer him on. Let him know how much time a garden such as that requires.

  “My daughter has been caring for it since Mr. Adamson passed on,” her father continued. “She has a real love for flowers, and she seems to have a knack with them, as well.”

  “Wonder if she would be interested in giving Mama a hand,” asked the man. “I know that Mama will not be able to handle this on her own, but she would enjoy it so much that I’d love to see her have the place.”

  Virginia’s heart sank. It seemed they had every intention of buying it.

  “We tried everything we knew to try to coax her on out west with us, but she refuses. Doesn’t care that much for it. Both times we managed to talk her into a visit, the wind blew the whole time and it was so dry the dust was flying every which way. For us who live there, it becomes commonplace. We’re so used to it we don’t much notice it anymore. But Mama says that as much as she loves her family, she’d go stark-raving mad living in the wind all the time.”

  He laughed. A deep-throated, good-natured laugh. They turned to follow the women up the walk.

  Virginia, her shears almost forgotten in her hands, got a good look at him then. He was taller than her father, tanned a deep bronze. Even though he was about her father’s age, he looked tremendously fit. Like he could still outwork—or outrun—men half his age.

  “What do you have for churches here in town?” he was asking. “It’s very important to Mama to find a good church.”

  Virginia’s father began to describe the town’s denominations, ending with their own and stressing that the elderly woman would be more than welcome to join the family in worship. “We’d be happy to give her a ride whenever she needs it,” he finished.

  The other man looked pleased.

  Virginia was feeling embarrassed about her pretense and finally gave up on the rosebush. She put the pruners back in the shed where they belonged and returned to the house to find her mother laying the table for tea.

  “I told your father to bring them over for tea once they have seen the house,” she explained.

  Virginia flushed. She could have accomplished her purpose without hanging around the rosebush. She went to wash her soiled hands so she could help her mother.

  The new folks had not been in the house for ten minutes before it was forgotten that they had so recently been complete strangers, and the group was visiting like old friends.

  In answer to the Simpsons’ family introductions, the newcomers shared about their own. “We have seven,” the couple said in unison. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “Actually,” said the younger of the two women, who to Virginia’s thinking was very attractive, “we started our marriage with three.”

  It sounded like an interesting story. Virginia hoped she would go on.

  “There were three little children in the town who were orphans. We were not married then. I decided to take them on, and Gil kindly offered to help me with them.”

  The man laughed. “ ’Course I already had my eye on her,” he admitted, “but I hadn’t been brave enough to tell her so. The kids just sort of made it easier for me—gave me an excuse.”

  “So we got married with three little ones to care for,” the woman explained. “Moved out to Gil’s ranch. Then another four came along. Their births made seven.”

  “Sounds like you were busy,” said Belinda.

  “We were, but they were good years. I’d do the same all over again.”

  “We only have the youngest two left at home now,” the man took up the story. “The others have married and are off on their own. Three beautiful little grandchildren. They sure do make our day.”

  “We have two grandsons,” interjected Belinda. “And I agree. They are delightful.”

  “The two who are still at home?” Drew prompted.

  “One girl, Rebeccah—she’s our youngest. She already has a beau, so I expect we’ll have another wedding come next year. And Jonathan. He’s been ranching with his father,” answered the woman.

  “My wife gave all our four Bible names,” the man added, nodding to her with a supportive smile.

  “My mother had given me a Bible name, and it was because of that I became interested in spiritual things,” the woman explained, giving her mother a look filled with love. “I decided that if it meant that much to me, it might mean something to them someday, so they became Daniel, Mark, and Jonathan— then we added Rebeccah.”

  “What is your name?” Belinda asked with interest.

  “Damaris.”

  “Damaris. I’ve never known anyone with that name before. It’s beautiful. But, I admit,” she went on, a slight frown creasing her forehead, “I don’t recall her story.”

  The woman laughed softly. “There’s not much of a story there. All it said in Acts seventeen, verse thirty-four, is that a woman named Damaris became a believer.”

  “Became a believer?” repeated Belinda. Then she added, “I guess that is the single most important thing that can be said of one.”

  “That’s exactly what Mother Dover said to me when she showed me the verse in the Bible.” The woman’s eyes grew soft with emotion.

  �
�And you, Mrs. Withers?” asked Drew, turning attention to the elderly woman. “You’ve never lived in the West?”

  Virginia had noted that the little woman was very quiet during the exchange. She guessed that her father had noticed it, too, and wished to include her in the conversation. The mother seemed almost shy—withdrawn, listening but not taking part in what was going on. So Virginia was surprised when she responded and expressed herself so freely.

  “This is as far west as I care to get,” answered the woman. “I came from the East. I met my husband back on the coast, where things were green and the ocean breakers put me to sleep every night. He had the wanderlust, and soon we were moving a little inland, then a little farther inland. And on he went, bit by bit, and I was getting farther and farther away from my family and friends.

  “We ended up farming, but the land where we settled wasn’t all that good. We had some real dry years. Didn’t do too well on the farm. They were hard years—nearly crushed him. I wasn’t sorry to sell it. I really don’t know why anyone would want it. But it’s been raining more the last few years, and they’re talking irrigation now. Land might produce something after all. Anyway, I was offered a good price—to my thinking. I wasn’t going to argue.”

  Virginia could not help but smile. The woman who seemed shy—even uncertain—barely lifted her head as she spoke, but she was articulate and feisty in her own quiet way. Maybe a neighbor wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Virginia thought that, perhaps, Mr. Adamson would have approved of her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ireally am worried about leaving Mama,” Damaris Lewis said as she shared a cup of tea with Belinda and Virginia on the following Saturday afternoon. “She insists she’ll be fine, but I’ve noticed that she can be a bit unsteady on her feet. She’s not as strong as she claims that she is, and I’m afraid that little house and big yard will be way too much for her. I do wish she would have agreed to come live with us.”

  Virginia could hear the deep concern in the woman’s voice. She wished there were some way she could be more help, but her job at the post office took most of her time. Right now the yard took little care, but soon there would be snow to shovel off their own walk. Shoveling snow was one thing that her father found very difficult to do with one arm.