Like Gold Refined

by Janette Oke

  Virginia heard the air leave her mother’s lungs in a heavy sigh. “She’s all right, then?”

  “She’s fine. Least she will be iffen she doesn’t scrub her skin off.”

  Virginia turned away, weak with relief. “I’ll put on the kettle.”

  “You’ll hafta go to the pump first. She’s emptied every? thing in the house.”

  Virginia picked up two pails and headed for the door.

  Eventually they were able to have a good laugh over it. Thankfully, Marty truly had not been seriously injured. All the scrubbings had taken care of the odor, and her clothes were soaking in the washtub, after having been rinsed out in bath water. They would wait there until the neighbor lady arrived the next morning and the week’s washing was done.

  “It could have been worse,” Virginia said as they drove home together.

  “Yes,” agreed Belinda. “I don’t dare leave them on their own anymore. It’s too dangerous. Mama … on that icy path. She could have been badly injured. I’m going to have to insist that they leave the farm.”

  Virginia felt an icy hand reach in and squeeze her heart.

  The situation seemed serious enough for the family to gather for a discussion of what could be done. Virginia was worried about her mother. She knew that Belinda would not sleep with her parents’ lives in peril. And Virginia knew that was her mother’s sincere assessment of their present situation.

  There were many plans, many suggestions, any number of what-ifs and could-wes put forth. They all eventually came to a dead end. “We are going to have to insist on moving them,” argued Belinda once again.

  “Moving them—where?” asked Drew. “We have no facility for people who need their kind of care.”

  “Moving them here.”

  “My dear, we’ve been through that a dozen times. We’ve invited, we’ve asked, we’ve pleaded—we’ve even cajoled—all to no effect. They have refused every time.”

  “This time we won’t accept no for an answer. They must move. We’ll move them.”

  “How?” asked Drew. “Bodily?”

  “If we have to.”

  Belinda seemed most determined. Virginia inwardly cringed.

  “Would they … would they be able to stay on there if … if someone was with them?” It was Francine who spoke up, her voice breaking. Virginia lifted her head to look at her younger sister. Her eyes were flooded with tears. Virginia blinked. It was like looking at the little sister again. The one who cried over everyone else’s problems.

  Belinda softened and reached for Francine’s hand. “Yes, of course they could, honey. That’s what we’ve tried. I’ve run ads in every paper I know. I thought Mrs. Gobble was the answer. … ”

  “Mrs. Crow,” offered Jonathan. “She didn’t get a Tom Tur? key. She got a Tom Crow. And now she Wanna Crow.”

  After a moment to smile at the attempt at a touch of light? ness, Belinda continued. “I wish I could find someone. I … I wish they would move in here. I can’t understand why—”

  “I think I can,” Luke broke in. “They have survived by being independent. You can’t expect them to change now.”

  “It makes it so difficult. I really don’t know—”

  “I’ll go.” The quiet voice was filled with emotion. Francine’s lips trembled, and her eyes spilled over as tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

  “Francine, honey … ” Belinda reached for her hand. “I’ll go,” the girl repeated.

  “You’re about to be married. … ”

  “I’m planning to quit work anyway. Dalton doesn’t want me to work once we’re married. He’s already said so. He can drive back and forth from the farm—to see me until we’re married, and then he can move in, too.”

  Virginia felt weak. Francine had no idea what she was offering. How difficult it was to start a marriage in that way. Perhaps they would survive … but it would not be easy. Virginia knew that firsthand.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she began before she could check herself.

  Francine’s chin came up. She sniffed. “I can take care of them,” she countered. “I know that I haven’t cooked … and cleaned and … done the housework like the rest of you, but I know how … and Grandma can teach me her way. I can learn.”

  Virginia quickly amended, “I didn’t mean that I thought you couldn’t do it. It’s just … it’s … it’s hard to start out like that. I know.” She cast a glance toward Jonathan as though to apologize for what she was going to say. “There are enough adjustments for a new couple without … without being in another’s home … caring for the elderly. It’s … it’s hard, Francine. I … I don’t want to see you go through that.”

  A fresh spate of tears washed down Francine’s cheeks. “They’re my grandparents,” she whispered. “I love them. If it won’t work to … to do that, then … then I’ll ask Dalton to postpone the wedding.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Virginia felt the little shock wave traveling round the circle at the large kitchen table in her parents’ home. It was several minutes before Drew, her father, broke the silence.

  “Seems to me the young man is a bit anxious to marry,” he said, his tone reasonable.

  “He’ll … understand.” Francine’s voice was choked. She twisted her lacy handkerchief into a damp ball.

  “Honey … we can’t ask you to do that.” Belinda had finally found her voice.

  “You aren’t asking me—any of you.”

  “But we … we can’t allow it, either.”

  Francine looked up, her long lashes still damp. But her voice was now steady as she said, “Look what Virginia gave up—for the family. She missed college—had to change all of her plans—without a single complaint. I know how much it meant to her. She used to cry—at night—when she thought no one was listening, but I heard her. I cried right along with her. She was so unselfish.”

  She fidgeted with the hankie while all eyes now turned on Virginia, making her squirm in discomfort.

  “Well … I’ve been raised in the same family,” Francine continued. “With the same principles. I may have been more … spoiled, but I’m not totally insensitive. They are my grand? parents. And I love them. And I—we can postpone our marriage for a few months so I can help take care of them.”

  A hush fell over the little group. No one spoke. Virginia wondered if anyone even lifted eyes from the checkered cloth on the table, but she did not look up to see. She felt like weeping. It was all so complicated. So emotional. Did other families face such tough decisions?

  “I don’t think your grandparents will let you do that.” Belinda’s voice sounded weary. As if she had just put in a long, exhausting day.

  “We can try,” insisted Francine. “I think I can convince them. … ”

  “There must be another way.”

  “And if there isn’t?” Francine no longer looked young and agitated. She looked mature and confident.

  “I don’t want you to have to sacrifice—”

  “Sacrifice strengthens the soul. You have always told us that, Mama.”

  “Would they come to my house?” Virginia asked. She couldn’t stand this cloud of doubt. Of uncertainty. This wrenching apart of family plans.

  Belinda shook her head slowly. “Virginia … you’ve done enough.”

  “If they won’t come here, I don’t expect they would con? sider moving anywhere else,” said Drew.

  “But they would still be out in the country,” argued Virginia.

  “I don’t think they have anything against town. It’s the leaving that bothers them. The moving from the familiar and loved,” her father explained.

  “It’s the feeling that they are intruding on their family’s lives,” Luke put in. “They don’t want to be a bother.”

  Belinda nodded. “Yes, that’s likely closer to the truth.”

  Virginia felt there must be something she could do. But what? She couldn’t pack up all her little ones and move in with them. And Jonathan’s horses
. … It seemed totally out of the question.

  “I still think I’ve the only answer,” Francine said quietly but firmly. “I’ll talk to Dalton.”

  “No, I’ll go out to the farm,” said Belinda, her face brightening. “There’s no reason to talk to Dalton. Your papa can drive back and forth for a while. We’ll just shut the house up—oh, no—we can’t do that,” she caught herself. “You’ll still need to live here until you’re married, Francine. But we will move on out there.” She looked toward her husband and got his nod.

  “Mama, if you go, we won’t be ready for the wedding anyway,” said Francine.

  For one moment Belinda’s expression was doubtful; then she spoke again. “Yes, we will. I don’t expect to be busy every waking moment with the folks. I can still work on wedding plans. Mama would love to help. She’s never happier than when she’s sewing or cooking for one of the family.”

  Belinda seemed so pleased with the solution. “I don’t know why I was so thickheaded not to think of it sooner,” she muttered to herself as she rose to her feet and moved toward the stove. “Refills, anyone?” She poured coffee around the table.

  “Then after the wedding—after Christmas—I’ll see what I can do about finding someone else again.”

  Virginia sighed and shifted James in her arms. It seemed that the crisis was again solved—for the moment.

  Clark and Marty looked surprised when Belinda arrived with bag and baggage and announced that she planned to stay. Belinda couldn’t help but laugh when she told Virginia about it later on the phone.

  “You and Drew had a set-to?” queried her mother, looking uncertain as to whether it was a serious question or not.

  Belinda chuckled and replied, “Of course not. He’ll be out in time for supper.”

  “He’s comin’, too.”

  “He is.”

  It finally began to dawn on Marty what was happening. She stopped, one hand going to the countertop to steady her? self. “Now, look here,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion. “No one needs to leave home or family to come in here and tender-care us. We’re jest fine on our own. Sure, I had me a few falls. Yer pa is better on his one leg than I am on my two. But a few bumps never hurt none. Can’t even see the marks. You git back on home and care fer yer own household.”

  “I’m staying here,” said Belinda, ignoring the outburst. “I need your help with Francine’s wedding—sewing and all. Since you won’t come in to me, I’ve come to you.” She put down her suitcases.

  Marty seemed to consider the words. The frustration left her eyes. Her entire demeanor changed. “Well … in thet case … ”

  From the corner of the kitchen, Clark chuckled. “Ninety-two years old and ya still got her sewin’ weddin’ dresses.”

  Belinda had no intention of passing on the sewing of the wedding dress to her elderly mother, but she didn’t say so. “Which room do you want us to use?” she asked instead.

  “You can take your pick. Mrs. Gobble said she left ’em all fit fer company.”

  Belinda was appreciative of that kindness. She picked up her things and moved toward the stairs.

  She chose her old room. Her parents’ bedroom would have given them more room, but it didn’t seem right somehow to be taking over their bed. Well … it wasn’t even their bed. That had been moved down to the living room. This was a new bed, purchased to fill up the empty space. But, still, it was their bedroom … of more than seventy years. …

  It felt strange, and rather nostalgic, to be in her old room again. Nothing had changed. The wallpaper was the same pat? tern she had chosen and she and her mother had hung together. She had been fourteen then. Fourteen—with all sorts of ideas of her own. The curtains at the window were curtains she had brushed aside many times to look out at the new day, or to catch the first wishing star of the evening. The same pictures were on the wall. The same pine bed with the handmade hooked rug before it. The same dresser with the telltale gouge on top from when she had broken a small mirror and a piece of glass had scratched its mark.

  Belinda unpacked the suitcases and hung her clothes in the closet. She arranged other items in the dresser drawers, careful to leave room for Drew’s things. She found herself humming softly as she stacked the last bit of clothing and shoved the suitcases under the bed.

  After the good start and Clark and Marty’s acceptance of the new living arrangements, the transition turned out to be not as easy for any of them as Belinda would have hoped.

  “I wonder if they have picked up a number of little idiosyncrasies since I left home, or if I just never noticed them before,” she noted in one of her frequent conversations with Virginia. “They do seem to have some strange ways of doing things. Little things. Things that shouldn’t matter, but I find myself getting annoyed.”

  And she knew, by their expression and often their silence, that there were things she did that irritated Clark and Marty.

  She had been right about one thing. They did need someone with them. She’d had no idea how much they now depended on one another. Her mother’s eyes were not as keen as they had been. Even with the reading glasses, her seams were not as straight and even. And her father, who seemed fairly steady once upright, had to have his wife’s help to get up from the chair. Belinda watched, her heart stricken, as her mother, her strength nearly spent, awkwardly tried to help lift her husband. On the third attempt they both tumbled into the chair. Marty eventually struggled back to her feet, but it was a moment before the two of them stopped their chuckling and were ready to try again. They made it that time. Belinda wondered how many times in the past they had gone through this little scene.

  And Marty was very unsteady. She’d even tied a cord from the bed to the kitchen so she had something to hang on to as she walked. Belinda knew that the cord would not be strong enough to hold her should she fall. But it did give her a mea? sure of balance and confidence.

  “I hadn’t known they were quite so needy,” Drew observed as they prepared for bed.

  Belinda nodded, her eyes shadowed. “Even I didn’t know it was this bad.”

  “Maybe after Christmas we’ll have to insist they move into town with us.”

  She said nothing. She hated to think of the emotional toll it might take on all of them. She certainly had no intention of raising the question now. It was going to take all her physical and mental reserves to care for their needs and get ready for the coming wedding.

  Everyone said it was the loveliest wedding ever held in their church. Francine was certainly the most lovely bride, Virginia was quick to agree. Dalton seemed to think so, as well. His eyes never left her face during the entire ceremony.

  But it was Belinda who held Virginia’s attention. She looked drawn and pale in spite of her brave smile and her braced shoulders. She’s worn out, thought Virginia. Something is going to have to be done. She can’t carry on like this.

  Virginia arranged a few “trades” with her mother, and Belinda would come to the Lewis farm for an afternoon with her grandchildren while Virginia took over the responsibilities with the Davises. They both knew Belinda was simply providing care for a different, much younger set of people, but she said it gave her a break and time with her beloved grandchildren.

  It was well into the new year before a more permanent answer came—from a most unexpected source. No one—not a solitary family member—had even thought of such a solution to the problem. Belinda could still scarcely believe it herself when she excitedly told Virginia about it.

  “He came for coffee. Mr. Simcoe. Sat right there in the folks’ kitchen—looking around as though sizing up the place—then I saw him give a little nod and he cleared his throat.

  “ ‘We been good neighbors for a lot of years,’ he said, and Pa nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he went on. ‘I’m not so fond of being alone anymore. I’m a sight younger than the two of you—but I play a fair game of checkers and I’ve been cooking up my own grub for thirty-odd years. I been hearing about your family’s looki
ng for some help for ya, so I figured maybe we ought to join forces.’

  “Mama looked a bit suspicious. But she didn’t say any? thing. Just waited.

  “ ‘I lost my best friend—my dog, Raider, this past spring, and I’ve been lonely ever since. I wondered if it would work out if I moved in here and helped out some—for the company—and the Simpsons here moved on back to their house in town.’

  “Well, I couldn’t believe my ears. I started to open my mouth to say it would never work, but Mama spoke up. ‘Don’t know why we couldn’t give it a try,’ she said. ‘Never know about anything ’til ya try it.’ “

  “I can’t believe it,” responded Virginia. “She was willing for a bachelor to move in with them?”

  “A bachelor.”

  “Do you think it will work?”

  “I don’t know.” Belinda’s initial excitement seemed to have waned. “But like Mama says, ‘You’ll never know until you give it a try.’ “ The two chuckled at the familiar homey wisdom.

  “So is he—are they going to do it?”

  “He’s moving in tomorrow.”

  “And you and Papa are moving home?”

  “As soon as he is settled.”

  Virginia sighed. “I’m glad,” she said at last. “You know I’ve been worried about you.”

  Belinda smiled weakly. “Well … I’ll be the first to admit that it has been a bit of a strain. I think I can empathize a little more with the folks. It will be so good to get back to my own house. My own bed. At least for a while.”

  “What do you mean—a while?”

  Belinda sighed again. “We have to be realistic, Virginia. Even if this works, it won’t be for long. The folks are really failing. Even Mr. Simcoe—bless his heart—will not be able to care for them for long.”

  Virginia absently fingered through the morning’s mail as she stood at their mailbox. There was not much. A few advertising flyers put out by Mr. Woods for the town merchants, a bill for feed grain for Jonathan. A letter. Her hand stopped. A letter, addressed to her. The only letters she ever received were from Jonathan’s family. But she did not recognize this writing.