Like Gold Refined

by Janette Oke

  Or did she? Puzzled, her eyes scanned the envelope for a return address. There was none. She checked the postmark. It’s from Jenny, she thought, her heart suddenly beating faster.

  She did not wait to slit the envelope carefully open but tore at it with trembling fingers. Jenny, after all this time, in touch with them again.

  The brief note told her very little. Except for one very important fact. Jenny was coming. “I plan to come see you on Thursday’s train,” the letter read. “Talk to you then. Jenny.”

  That was all. No information as to how she was doing. No inquiry about her child. Not even a greeting, asking how they had been or hoping that they were keeping well. Nothing like that.

  Virginia smiled ruefully. It was typical Jenny. She turned and started for the house. Thursday was only two days away. She had much to do before Jenny arrived. She and Mindy … Virginia stopped short. Mindy. What would Mindy think about Jenny showing up out of the blue? How would she respond? Would two days give them enough time to prepare the child for the upcoming visit of her mother? It had been years since Mindy had seen her.

  Then Virginia moved forward again, a smile on her lips. Mindy faithfully had been praying for Jenny each night. Perhaps this was God’s answer to those prayers. Maybe Jenny already had good news for them. Mindy would be so excited.

  By the time Virginia reached the house she was so keyed up herself she could hardly wait for Mindy to get home from school. She had to share the news with someone. Letter in hand, she headed for the barn to find Jonathan.

  He was not there. She felt keen disappointment but pressed on to the corrals behind the barn. Slate was working with a young stallion, putting the horse through a brisk trot. Jonathan was watching with a critical eye.

  “He does toe-in that left front foot,” he called to the young man. “We’ll have to work on it.”

  Virginia moved up beside him and leaned on the rail. “Guess what?” she said as he turned to her. “I just received a letter from Jenny. She’s coming.”

  “Here?” A frown deepened the slight furrow of his brow. He lifted a hand and removed his brimmed hat and ran fingers through his thick hair. “Why?”

  Virginia felt her own feelings turn uncertain. “Well, to see us all, of course. Does she need a special reason?”

  Jonathan did not reply for a long moment. He stood watching the young stallion, but Virginia knew his thoughts were not on the horse.

  “You don’t sound pleased,” she said.

  “I’m not.” There was no apology in his tone.

  “Why? Mindy will … ”

  “Mindy. That’s why. Mindy has not seen her mother since she was—”

  “I know—and she will be so excited.”

  “Will she? Or is it you who’ll be excited?”

  He turned to face her, his eyes probing hers.

  “What … what do you mean?” she stammered.

  He ran his hand through his hair again and pushed the worn hat firmly down on his head. “Jenny is your friend,” he said at last. “I respect you for sticking with her … all these years even when she has done nothing to deserve your loyalty. I was … I am able to … to give her free rein where your friendship is concerned. But Mindy? That’s different. You know how much it took to get her to where she felt loved … accepted … able to face life. She’s settled in with us now. She’s doing fine. I don’t want that woman coming in here and upsetting everything.”

  “But she won’t—”

  “How do you know that?” He swung around to face her with his full attention. “How can you be so sure? Mindy’s just a child. An emotional child. She can’t help but be thrown off balance, coming face-to-face with a mother she knows only by name. It’s bound to do something to her, Virginia, and I don’t think it will be for her good.”

  Virginia bit her lip. She had never seen Jonathan’s face so set, almost angry.

  “You’re saying she can’t come?” she asked at last.

  He did not answer for a long time. His hand moved to his hat, but he did not remove it, just tugged on the brim. Finally he looked at her again. “I’m not saying that,” he answered. “You are my wife. This is your home. I am not ordering you as to what you can or can’t do. But I will say that I don’t like it—not one bit. I think it will upset our Mindy.”

  “We’ve been praying,” pleaded Virginia. “Don’t you think this could be the answer to our prayers?”

  He hesitated again. She watched his eyes soften. “Look,” he finally said. “She’s coming. I don’t expect you’ll be able to turn her away. We have no idea why she’s coming. We have no idea how Mindy will react. But I’ll tell you this—if she starts making waves … ” He left the sentence unfinished.

  Virginia nodded. The letter hung limply at her side. All of the anticipation had gone from the coming visit. She was no longer anxious to share the news with Mindy. Had Jonathan spoiled everything? Sometimes she thought he could be a bit narrow, overly protective. He certainly was protective where his children were concerned. And Mindy was as much his—theirs—as any of the little ones who shared his home.

  When Virginia did tell her, Mindy’s reaction was difficult to interpret. One minute she seemed excited about the fact that Jenny was coming. The next, she seemed quiet and withdrawn—probably frightened about the prospect of meeting this woman who had brought her into the world and then brought her to Virginia.

  “Perhaps God is working to answer our prayers,” Virginia murmured to Mindy as she tucked the child in for the night. She hoped the words would settle Mindy’s doubts. She did manage a smile.

  “We’ll just keep on praying. Pray that God will use this little visit to open your mother’s heart to Him.”

  “She’s not my real mother, you know,” said Mindy. “She’s just my birth mother.”

  “Well … ” began Virginia, and then let it drop. “We’ll keep praying,” she said instead. She leaned over and kissed the child on her forehead.

  She was at the door before Mindy spoke again. “Mama,” she asked, “will I need to kiss her?”

  Virginia stopped, one hand on the doorknob. She turned back to the child. “No,” she said quietly but firmly, remembering Jenny’s last visit when she had almost totally ignored her own daughter. If Jenny had not changed, she would not wish to be kissed. “No … you won’t need to kiss her. Unless you decide that you want to. Unless she asks. … ” But Virginia did not expect Jenny to ask.

  “Good,” said Mindy.

  Since making those initial adjustments into the Lewis family, Mindy had been free with her affection. Every visiting grandparent, aunt, uncle, or cousin, were always given a hug and welcoming kiss. Why is she hesitant about kissing her own mother? Virginia puzzled.

  Then Mindy enlightened her with, “I don’t think that I want to kiss someone I don’t even know.”

  “I see.” Virginia waited.

  “Mama, what should I call her?”

  Mindy sounded so worried that Virginia’s heart twisted inside, and she went back to sit on the edge of Mindy’s bed. “I don’t want to call her Mama,” Mindy said, her voice low.

  “We’ll figure out something that will feel right to you,” Virginia comforted her, smoothing back the tangled curls from the small face.

  “Will she stay long?”

  “I … I don’t expect so,” said Virginia, remembering Jenny’s last visits and her restlessness.

  Mindy seemed to relax. “Do you think she’d like to see Buttercup?” she wondered.

  “I expect she would.”

  “Do you think she would like to ride her?”

  “No,” said Virginia, smiling at the thought. “I don’t think Jenny will be interested in a ride.”

  “I’m kinda glad,” said a sleepy Mindy with a half smile.

  “ ’Cause Buttercup doesn’t know her, either.”

  CHAPTER 8

  We have a letter from Danny.” Belinda’s excitement seemed to have erased the many difficult weeks without
hearing anything at all.

  “It was posted four months ago,” Virginia’s mother continued on the other end of the telephone line.

  “Where has it been?”

  “On the ship, I guess. Takes a long time.”

  “But surely not that long.”

  “I was worried,” Belinda admitted. “I thought we’d hear sooner. According to this letter, he’d already written twice.”

  “What happened to the other letters?”

  “I’ve no idea. But it’s a relief to know they are okay. They say it’s dreadfully hot—but they are managing.”

  “Have they received any of our letters?”

  “Yes. He said the post had brought one from Clara, two from you, and four of mine to this point. But I’ve mailed a dozen or so. And Rodney says they have written a number of times, and I know that Francine has posted a couple. And Mama has sent off several, as well.”

  “It’s truly awful. The mail situation.”

  “Well—he is out on the plains. I guess one can’t expect hand delivery.”

  “And how are they? Is Alvira managing?”

  Belinda hesitated. “She is expecting—just like you sup? posed she might be.”

  “Do they have medical facilities there?”

  “Danny didn’t seem worried.”

  “Why should he worry?” Virginia said, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t have to go through delivery.”

  “Virginia, I don’t think that’s fair. It’s his baby—and his wife. Of course he’ll worry.”

  Virginia was contrite. “I was sort of joking. But I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that—sometimes I don’t think men understand what birth is really like. They just seem to assume that everything will be fine—that it’s part of life.”

  “Well, I guess it is.”

  “You know what I mean, Mama.”

  Virginia decided to change the subject. “I got a letter from Jenny.”

  “Jenny?”

  “She’s coming. Tomorrow’s train. It seems—unreal.”

  It was a moment before Belinda spoke. “Does Mindy know?”

  “Of course. We told her right away.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “Well … she had to do some sorting through on it. I think she’s excited … but she is hesitant, too. That’s understand? able. She really doesn’t even know her. Jenny. Even if she is her mother. She has very few memories.”

  “Yes … this could be hard for her.” Belinda’s voice was very solemn.

  “You sound … like Jonathan,” Virginia stated softly.

  “Jonathan? Doesn’t he …? Isn’t he … pleased?”

  “No. Not really. He surprised me with his reaction to the news. I thought he would be glad. But I think it would be fine with him if we never saw or heard from Jenny again,” Virginia said slowly.

  “What does he have against Jenny?”

  “Nothing. Really. He’s just … just … you know Jonathan. He’s so protective of his children. He’s like an old mother hen hovering over them, clucking away.”

  “Virginia!”

  “Well, he is … in a way. Anyway, I’m sure he will thaw out once she gets here. Jonathan has always been courteous and kind.”

  “Yes, I know. He’s a good man, a good father.”

  The conversation turned to other things. Virginia felt some? what better as she hung up the phone. Jonathan was a good man and father. He would do right by Mindy—and Jenny.

  Virginia was glad, too, that word had finally come from Danny and Alvira. But that thought sobered her again. Would Alvira really have the care that she needed to take her through her pregnancy—through the delivery? It would be a dreadful thing if something happened. She resolved to do some serious praying for her sister-in-law.

  The rest of the day did not go so well. Virginia had made herself a mental list of all of those things that she needed—or wanted—to get done in order to be ready for Jenny’s arrival. She had been sidetracked early on when Olivia had come to her with a sliver in her finger. If there was anything that upset young Olivia, it was the sight of blood. Even a drop of blood could send her into terrified shrieks. It took some time to get the sliver extracted, the finger bandaged, and the child calmed down again.

  Virginia was just ready to resume her tasks when James upset the pail of feed waiting to go out to the chickens. Not only had he spilled it, he was sitting there eating it when Virginia went to investigate.

  She had to clean it up—and then clean him up, and by the time that task was complete she could smell her pies. She had quite forgotten them in the oven with all the distractions. And the crusts were burned. Virginia could have wept. She decided to serve them to the family for supper and start over on the morrow. The worst places could be cut away; then she’d whip some cream for the top. Jonathan and Slate would not complain. They never did.

  By the time Mindy arrived home from school, Virginia was hopelessly behind in her self-imposed schedule.

  “Bundle the girls and take them out to play,” she said, agitation in her voice. “I’m not getting anything done with them underfoot.” Then quickly followed another order. “I need more wood for the fire—and another pail of water.”

  Mindy looked confused. Virginia did not improve things when she quickly followed up with, “Hurry and change your school dress so you don’t get it dirty.”

  Martha trailed her older sister from the room. Virginia heard her say as they climbed the stairs, “Mama’s flustated. Jamie’s been bad again. He ate too much chicken food. Now he’ll die, I s’pose.”

  He’s not going to die, Virginia almost called out. Surely the child did not think she would be standing over a hot stove mourning over burned pies if there was any danger that her baby had been poisoned.

  Virginia put a hand to her forehead, brushing back damp hair. No wonder Martha was confused and Mindy had looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. That’s exactly the way she had been acting. All agitated and muddle-headed. What did it matter if Jenny found her in her usual situation? She was not a perfect homemaker. Did not have a perfect house—nor a perfect family. She was putting far too much pressure on herself. On the entire family. She was being ridicu? lous.

  She moved to the table and took a chair, her shoulders lifting and falling in resignation. She’d forget the list. Entirely. Jenny would arrive—when she would arrive. What got done would be done. And if it didn’t, who was likely to notice or complain? Least of all Jenny. The only thing she would be sure to get done would be to bake a loaf of that oatmeal bread Jenny loved from their childhood days. She’d have to call her mother for the recipe.

  When Mindy and Martha came back down the stairs, Virginia greeted them with a smile. “Why don’t we all go out to get some wood from the shed and a pail of fresh water? Then we’ll make some hot cocoa to take the chill off our bones.”

  Everyone seemed to agree that was a wonderful idea.

  They never had the hot chocolate. Before they even returned to the kitchen from their errand, Jonathan came from the barn, helping a limping and pale-faced Slate. He had been kicked by a yearling. He insisted that he wasn’t badly hurt, but Jona? than was determined that a doctor should decide. He loaded the boy in the motorcar. “I don’t know when we’ll be back,” he called from the open window as he swung the car around. “Don’t wait supper on us.”

  It was a sober little group that moved on to the house, arms laden with wood for the cookstove. “Will Slate die?” sobbed Martha, who seemed of late to be overly obsessed with the thought of someone she loved departing this life.

  “ ’Course not,” said Mindy. “The worst that could happen is for his leg to get cut off.”

  Virginia didn’t think that thought was likely to bring much comfort. “He won’t get his leg cut off,” she corrected. “If it’s broken he will need it to be in a cast until it gets better. That’s all.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Mindy, her eyes brightening. “I remember when our old
grandma had one of those.”

  If you remember Grandma Withers and her cast, you should be remembering your mother, thought Virginia, but she said nothing.

  They held off supper until the children started to com? plain, and Virginia decided that they must go ahead on their own after all. Mindy, who said the grace, also said a prayer for Slate. “And God, help Slate’s leg not get ampu’ated like Grandpa Clark.”

  When she opened her eyes, she looked very solemn. “I asked Grandpa Clark about his leg one day, and he told me that he got hurt and they had to ampu’ate his leg.”

  “What’s amu … amu …?” asked Martha, frowning as she worked with the strange word.

  “Ampu’ated,” said Mindy knowingly.

  “Amputated,” said Virginia, fixing a plate for the impatient James, who was pounding his spoon on the high-chair tray.

  “It means chopped off,” Mindy explained to her younger sister. Martha made a face, which Olivia copied.

  “When things like arms or legs or fingers get hurt really bad, they chop them off.”

  Martha made another face.

  “That’s what happened to Grandpa Clark’s leg. And that’s what happened to Grandpa Drew’s arm, too.”

  “That’s yuk,” said Martha, and Olivia repeated the word several times.

  Virginia could not dispute the facts, even though she did not appreciate the terminology. She tried to divert the attention of the children round the table.

  “Tomorrow your mother, Jenny, will be here,” she said to Mindy.

  Martha’s face immediately brightened. “ Tomorrow our Jenny mother will be here,” she repeated to Mindy.

  “It’s not your mother,” responded Mindy. “Just mine.”

  “Is not,” argued Martha.

  “Is too.”

  “Mine too,” said Olivia.

  Oh, dear, thought Virginia, why did I bring that up? “She’s just mine—isn’t she, Mama?” asked Mindy. “Yes, she is just Mindy’s.”