by Janette Oke
Francine, whose lips were curved in a trembling smile, leaned against the man beside her, her hands clutching his arm. “Yes,” she said, and her voice was strong and sure. “Yes. I will.”
Dalton removed the ring from the box he held and slipped it on Francine’s outstretched finger. Then he kissed her gently. Right in front of the entire assembly.
“Are they married now?” Martha’s clear, puzzled question broke the spell. Laughter rippled around the circle until it was magnified and shared by all.
“No, they are not married yet,” answered her Uncle Danny.
“Then why did they kiss?”
There was more laughter. Martha’s frown deepened.
“That’s just a … a silly thing that grown-ups do,” teased Danny, ruffling her hair. “You’ll understand … someday.”
Virginia looked at her child. Oh, please God, not for a long time, she found herself praying silently.
Then she turned her attention back to her younger sib? ling. Francine was passing around the room, proudly giving a close-up look of the new ring on her finger. She looked so happy. So radiant. So beautiful. Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. Her little sister. To be married. Imagine.
Her eyes went to the young man who followed closely at Francine’s side. He looked … triumphant. As though the most exciting thing in the world had just happened to him. The most priceless gift just placed within his possession. Virginia blinked back her tears. Yes, her heart responded as her gaze again fell on her little Martha. I would wish this for you … someday. The happiness. The sharing. The blending of two lives. Nothing is more beautiful. Nothing. But please, my darling … please don’t be in any hurry. Your mama needs you.
CHAPTER 6
The Simpson family’s few days together ended all too soon, and the group gathered on the platform of the train station to bid farewell to Danny and Alvira. There were no tears. Danny was far too excited to allow the family to express sorrow over his departure. Virginia guessed that there may be more than one damp pillow that night after he had gone. But not now. Now there were only well-wishes and promises of letters and prayers. The happy bedlam of everyone seeking last-minute hugs and giving last-minute advice gave way to the train departing eastward, billowy plumes of smoke wafting a long tail behind as it curved its way out of town. The Simpsons stood and watched until it disappeared; then they turned slowly away, each one with private thoughts centering on the long time that stretched ahead until they welcomed the young couple home again.
Virginia slipped up next to her mother and placed her hand into the hand she had held since she was a tiny infant. Only now she was the comforter, not the comforted. She said nothing. Didn’t need to.
“Well … I guess it’s back to the ordinary again,” Drew commented as they left the station.
“The ordinary,” echoed Belinda. “I guess it is.”
“For me, that begins with a long motor trip,” said Rodney. “I’m not looking forward to that.”
Belinda seemed to shake herself from her reverie. “I wish you didn’t have to go. So soon.”
He looked at her fondly. “I wish I didn’t, too, Mama, but it was pushing things a bit to get the five days off. We’re awfully busy right now.”
Virginia felt her mother’s fingers tighten over her own. “I’m glad you made the effort to come,” Belinda said to her older son. “We all would have been so disappointed. Certainly Danny.”
There didn’t seem to be much more to say.
Olivia begged to be carried, and since Jonathan already had his arms full with James, Virginia released her mother’s hand and reached for her little daughter. She walked along, in step with Rodney, who carried his youngest. “When do you leave?”
“First thing in the morning. It’s a full day’s trip.”
“How did the children manage the drive?”
“They did very well—considering. I hope it goes just as well going home.”
“I’d hate to travel with our babies. It’s bad enough just driving into town.”
“They sleep. At least for part of the time, and Grace is terrific about keeping them entertained.”
“Please be careful,” whispered Virginia, not wanting her mother to overhear her admonition. “There are more and more motorcars on the roads. I don’t trust some of those drivers.”
Fall was approaching before Belinda found another person interested in staying with her parents. A widow lady from a small town nearby was looking for something to fill her lonely hours. It sounded like a good prospect, and Belinda could hardly wait to have a visit with the woman.
Drew took a day off and drove her for the interview. She was well satisfied with the results, and the woman agreed to come look over the situation for herself within the next week.
Virginia wasn’t sure if she wanted to be involved this time. Besides her uncertainties about the whole arrangement, she was busy with fall canning and a small James, who had decided it was time to learn how to walk. Virginia felt she had to watch him every waking moment. Her baby girls had been active and inquisitive, but James was a living cyclone. And he climbed. Continually. He seemed to have an uncanny gift for being in two or three places at the same time. She would just remove his hands from the butter crock when he would be emptying out the sugar bowl. No sooner had she cleaned up that mess than he would be dumping over the washbasin.
So this time Virginia remained at home, busily engaged, while her mother took the widow out to the farm home. Again, Clark and Marty were busy with a visit elsewhere. Belinda reported the outcome later over the telephone.
“She wasn’t so shocked that there was no indoor plumbing.”
That was a plus.
“She wasn’t so quick to define what she wasn’t going to do, either.”
“You mean she actually plans to work for her pay.”
“It seems that way.”
“Does she have a Cleopatra?”
Belinda chuckled. “No Cleo.”
“Was she friendly?”
“Oh, yes. Very warm.”
Virginia was puzzled. Her mother didn’t sound as excited as she had expected.
“So what is the problem?”
Belinda hesitated. “No problem,” she said at last.
“Mama … something is troubling you. I can tell by your voice.”
“Well, it’s not a problem. Not really … it’s just … ”
“Yes.”
“She’s a little domineering. A touch … pushy. And she loves to talk. No wonder she’s missing her husband. She doesn’t have anyone to listen to her anymore.”
“Maybe Grandma will enjoy having someone to chat with.”
“Maybe.”
“But you’re worried.”
“Not really … worried. It’s just … you know how Mama is about her kitchen. And Pa … he isn’t so fond of continual chatter since the stroke. Mama says he needs his quiet times … to sort of … regroup.”
“I see,” said Virginia. “So what do you plan to do?”
“She’s staying over. She’s off to check out our town shops at the moment. I’m going to see the folks in the morning. If they agree, I’ll take her on back to see them in the afternoon.”
“Don’t they nap?”
“I’ll give them time for that first.”
Silence.
“Virginia … pray. Pray that they’ll be reasonable about it all.”
Virginia swallowed but could not answer immediately.
“I’m sure they will, Mama. They have always been reason? able people.”
“But this … this will be hard for them. They could be stubborn about it. It’s … ”
“It’s a whole change of life for them, Mama. You can’t blame them if they resist. It won’t be easy for them to have a stranger in the house.”
“Perhaps … perhaps if they realize the alternative … they may be a bit more pliable.”
The words brought a chill to Virginia’s heart. She did not need to
ask what the alternative might be.
She wanted to hang up. To end the conversation. But she wasn’t sure that her mother had said all she needed to say.
“She’s … she’s a pleasant enough person, Virginia,” Belinda said, as though to convince herself. “She seems energetic and … and personable. I’m sure Mama could enjoy sharing tea with her. Exchanging knitting patterns. She’d like her as a neighbor.”
Virginia had no reply. Yet she couldn’t just hang up. Say something, she scolded herself. So she said the only thing that popped into her mind. “What did you say her name is?”
“Iwanna. Mrs. Iwanna Gobble.”
Virginia was sure she had heard wrong. “What was that?”
“Yes … ” replied Belinda with a sigh. “You heard correctly. It is Iwanna Gobble. I thought it a unique and rather pretty name—Iwanna—until I heard the surname. I’m sure her maiden name must have been something more appropriate.”
“Iwanna Gobble,” repeated Virginia, but already the two of them were laughing.
It felt rather good.
Her grandparents were not pleased about the interference in their lives. They should have been told, they maintained. This sort of thing was not a trivial matter. It hurt to know that it had been going on behind their backs. They had been doing just fine on their own.
Belinda was crushed. That afternoon they drove Mrs. Gobble back to her own town. It seemed they would not be needing her after all. Virginia knew just how hard this was for her mother and was sure she must have spent the night in tears.
But the next day Marty rang Belinda up and apologized. “We know you were jest thinkin’ ’bout us. We didn’t mean to be ungrateful … it’s jest … it’s hard to grow old. One has a tendency to fergit how yer kids worry ’bout it. We’ve been talkin’ and prayin’, and iffen it’ll ease yer mind, we’ll give it a try.”
Belinda, elated, immediately phoned Mrs. Gobble and gave her the good word. The woman declared that she would be ready by Friday. They could motor over and pick her up then.
It was Clara’s Troy who made the trip the second time. Drew had an important court case and could not get away. Belinda rode along, directing her son-in-law to the woman’s small brownstone house.
Mrs. Gobble was duly established in the Davis farm home, and the family held its breath. They hoped and prayed that it would work well. Clark and Marty seemed more than willing to give it their best. At least for a time.
Virginia met the woman for the first time at church the following Sunday. She was a pleasant-looking woman. Not stiff and distant like Miss Groggins had been. In fact, she was a matronly looking woman, whom Virginia thought would have made a good grandmother and felt it a shame that the woman and her deceased husband had never had children.
Mrs. Gobble was indeed talkative. And she was a bit loud. It made Virginia wonder if she might have a hearing problem. And she laughed a lot. Not always at the appropriate times, to Virginia’s way of thinking. But laughing at the wrong time was certainly better than not laughing at all.
The woman joined in heartily in the singing, and her voice seemed to bolster the entire congregation, everyone singing with just a little bit more volume and enthusiasm.
“She might work out okay,” Virginia dared to venture to Jonathan on the way home from church.
“I think she’s rather a cute old thing,” he responded, and when she frowned her disapproval at his description, he laughed.
“Did you notice the attention she got?” he went on.
“Attention?”
“Tom and Harry both had their eye on her.” He chuckled again.
“Tom and Harry? Our Tom and Harry?”
Tom Crow was a widower who had lost his wife two years earlier. He looked lonely and forlorn, and Virginia had often wished that there were a suitable widow in the congregation. Harry Simcoe was a bachelor farmer. The fact that he had never married did not seem to be preplanned. And certainly it was not because he had no interest. He openly eyed every new available woman in the congregation no matter her age, but he never did seem to be brave enough to speak to any of them.
“I wonder which one will win,” mused Jonathan and was rewarded with another frown.
But Slate seemed to think it was a good joke. From the backseat between Mindy and Martha, Virginia could hear him laughing heartily. “Well … if it’s to be Harry Simcoe, he’s gonna have to get up his courage and do more than just stare,” he ventured. “I’m no expert on the matter, but seems to me it takes more to convince a woman than just moon eyes.” He laughed again, and Jonathan, to Virginia’s annoyance, joined in.
It was Tom who won the contest. Mrs. Gobble had not been there for two months when she announced that she and Tom were planning to marry. She would no longer be available to care for the Davises.
“So she’s going from a Gobble to a Crow. Iwanna Crow. Has a nice ring to it,” laughed Slate, and he and Jonathan had another good guffaw. Virginia had to smile in spite of herself. But she sobered again quickly when she remembered how hard her grandparents had tried to make the situation work. Her grandmother bit her tongue when the woman stepped over boundaries in her kitchen. And her grandfather took himself out to the porch—even on chilly days—to escape Mrs. Gobble’s nonstop chatter.
“Can’t you please wait until after Christmas?” Belinda pleaded with Iwanna when the woman announced she was leaving. Belinda was busy with preparations for Francine’s wedding and knew that she would have no time to hunt for a replacement. And now she felt even more uncomfortable leaving her parents on their own.
“We’re not young anymore,” Iwanna responded, “and Tommie is most anxious to have a woman in the house. He has five grown children, you know, and their younguns are praying for a grandma. I’ve never been a grandma, and I’ve a notion that Christmas is about the best time to be one.”
Belinda knew that she could not press further. She reluctantly let the woman go with her blessing and best wishes.
A cold November wind was blowing, causing disruption and crackling on the telephone line, but Virginia was able to hear Belinda’s words, and her heart felt as though it were being squeezed.
“Was Grandma hurt?”
“I don’t know. Pa phoned. He seemed quite upset. I’m going right out.”
Virginia cast a glance toward the table where her family still sat at dinner. “Just a minute,” she said to her mother and turned to Jonathan, placing one hand over the receiver. “Grandma’s fallen again, and Mama is going there right away. She sounds quite upset. Is there any chance—?”
“Do you want me to go with her—or do you want to go?”
“I … I’d like to … if you can watch the children.” He nodded.
“Mama,” she said, speaking into the phone again, “can you stop by for me? I’ll be ready.”
Belinda sounded relieved as she set a time.
She was there within half an hour. Virginia stood, coat and hat in place, her gloves in her hands. She would not keep her mother waiting this time.
“What did Grandpa say?” she asked as soon as she had pulled the car door behind her.
“Just that she had fallen. He said that she seemed to knock the wind out of herself. Was having a hard time catching her breath. Oh, I’m so worried. I should never have let them—”
“Mama,” Virginia scolded softly, “it won’t do to punish yourself. You’ve done all you could do. None of the others will be—”
“That’s just it.” Belinda’s voice took on an impatient tone. “No one else is willing to do anything. They let me be the one to make the decisions, break the news. I just wish someone else would take some responsibility for a change. Missy and Ellie so far away. And Clare and Arnie might as well be for all the help they are. I can forgive Luke. He’s so rushed off his feet that he doesn’t even have time to take a decent meal most days. But the others. They have nothing pressing. They could at least take some interest.”
Virginia had never seen her mother so
upset, nor heard her speak so forthrightly about her family members. It was not at all like her. It’s the worry, she told herself. She’s sick with worry.
They pulled into the yard, and Belinda was opening her car door before she had rolled to a complete stop.
She rushed to the house with Virginia close on her heels, fairly ran across the porch, and threw the door open. Her father sat in his usual chair, facing the door.
“Where’s Mama?” Belinda asked, her eyes casting wildly about the kitchen.
“She’s in there.” He nodded his head toward the living room, where a curtain had been pulled across to give them a private dressing area.
Belinda moved forward.
“Don’t come in.” Marty’s voice halted her.
She stopped, confused, casting a glance toward her father.
“Mama … are you all right?”
“No … I’m not all right. I stink to high heaven.”
“What?”
“I stink to high heaven,” the woman repeated. “Stay where ya are.”
Belinda turned to her father and Virginia moved up beside her. “What’s going on?” Belinda asked. “Did she strike her head?”
When Clark began to chuckle softly, Virginia feared that both her grandparents had lost their senses.
“Papa … what’s going on?” Belinda repeated. “Has Mama …?”
“She’ll be fine,” he managed. “But she’s right. She does stink to high heaven.” He chuckled again.
“What’s she doing?”
“She’s scrubbin’. With lye soap. That’s her third time.”
“Papa … please … tell me … ”
“She took an unexpected bath, that’s all.”
Virginia moved closer. “Grandpa,” she said in a voice that she hoped wasn’t as demanding as her mother’s, “tell us what happened.”
He looked up at them, but a twinkle still lit his eyes. “She was on a trip—out to the outhouse with the slops. She slipped on a patch of ice … and came in wearing the whole thing. Don’t know iffen it was the fall or the smell that took her breath away. She’s been scrubbin’ ever since. Emptied every pail of water in the house, and the boys had ’em all full this mornin’.”