Like Gold Refined

by Janette Oke

  “I live in a small apartment downtown. It’s not much, but it’s a place to stay. I get by—just fine. Hayden had a life-insurance policy—not much, but in true Hayden fashion, he’d failed to sign it over to that … that other woman.” Jenny swore again. “Poor ol’ husband-snatcher—she never got a thing. Hayden hadn’t planned to die, you see. Hayden thought he’d live and party forever.

  “You think I’m not well. Why should I be well? Why would anyone care? I’ve lost my husband—I’ve lost my kid. What reason do I have to even live?”

  “You have me. Us. We care, Jenny. And your father. He cares. And he would show you, if you’d just let him.”

  Jenny swore again.

  “Have you seen a doctor?” Virginia pressed further. “I’d like to make an appointment for you with Uncle Luke. I’m sure there is something—”

  “Drop it, Virginia. Just drop it, okay? I’ve seen more doctors in the last year than one should have to see in a lifetime.”

  Virginia was relieved to hear that Jenny was seeking medical help, but frightened that they had not been able to help her.

  “But can’t they do—”

  “No!” said Jenny emphatically. “They can’t do.”

  “What do you mean? Have they tried?”

  Jenny looked at Virginia evenly, a chilling glare hardening her eyes and stopping Virginia’s words. “It’s curtains for me, Virginia,” she said without any sign of emotion. “My lungs are shot. Cancer.”

  Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. She sank down into her chair, a little sob escaping her lips.

  Jenny stood up. “That’s the last I want to talk about it or hear of it,” she said. “You had to know. You wouldn’t rest until you dragged it out of me. But I want no ridiculous fussing about it. I can’t stand fusses and I don’t want you stirring one up now. Understand? I want this kept quiet. I didn’t even want you to know ’cause I don’t want any big commotion made over it—but now that you know, promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”

  Virginia could not speak. Could not even move her head in a nod.

  “Promise?” insisted Jenny.

  Virginia managed to swallow and meekly nodded her head, her eyes full of tears.

  Jenny turned and headed for the stairs, a spasm of coughing slowing her progress.

  The next morning felt more like spring than a winter’s day. The icicles that had formed on the rooflines dripped into banks of snow, making strangely shaped holes deeper and deeper into the whiteness like some invisible tool. Shivers of steam rose from the dark barn roof. Chickens that had been hud? dling away in the henhouse came out to scratch at the frozen ground, totally ignoring the filled troughs they had left behind. The cats stretched out lazily on the back porch, soaking in sun rays as though storing them for any weather that might lie ahead. Murphy was much too busy to provoke them as he barked excitedly at a squirrel that had poked its head out of a hole in a tree.

  Virginia sighed as she looked out the window, wishing spring truly had arrived. But she knew better—they were only into the middle of February. There would be more storms to come. She sighed again and took the opportunity to send Martha out to play while the two younger ones slept.

  She would love to take the other two little ones out for some fresh air after nap time. It would be good for all of them. But right now she had guests.

  She poured three cups of coffee and sat down at the table across from Jenny. Her mother occupied the other chair at the table. This was the first attempt of Jenny’s to be hospitable. Belinda had always seemed to have that effect on Vir? ginia’s longtime friend. They were talking now of books, and it sounded like Jenny spent much of her time reading. Virginia was surprised at how up-to-date she sounded. It made her feel embarrassed that she had so little time to keep abreast of current thought.

  “Do you get out much?” Virginia heard her mother ask.

  “To the library,” said Jenny, managing a hoarse laugh.

  “Well—that’s as good a place to go as any. But some companionship with real live people would be good for you, too.”

  “I don’t seem to have many of the old friends since … ” Jenny did not finish the statement, but both Belinda and Vir? ginia knew she was thinking back to Hayden again.

  “I’ve been trying to talk Jenny into staying for a long visit,” Virginia put in.

  “Surely you’re not thinking of going back already?”

  Jenny toyed with her cup. “I’ve gotten rather used to … to things being quiet.”

  Belinda laughed. “Well, it’s not very quiet here, I can testify to that. This little family is busy, busy, busy.”

  Jenny nodded. “One gets in rather a rut,” she said, “and after a while it gets comfortable—in a way.”

  Virginia sat and listened to the casual conversation. She wondered what her mother would think—or say—if she knew that Jenny had cancer. Virginia had asked no further questions after Jenny’s blunt announcement. She did not know how serious Jenny’s condition was. She only knew that the very word itself carried doom—left her feeling chilled. There was no reversing the diagnosis.

  Please, Jenny, her inner heart cried silently. Please—stay here and let me take care of you. Don’t go back to your lonely room—your library. Stay with me.

  Jenny was saying to Belinda, “I found this new author. It’s the first I’ve read any of his work, but I quite liked it. I decided I’m going to look up more. It’s very light reading, but it … it sort of takes you out of the world for a few hours. His … ”

  Olivia called and Virginia excused herself and went for the child. From then on there was little chance for more discussion. The child demanded her grandmother’s full attention, and soon Martha was pounding on the door, wet from playing in melting snow. Then it was James who let them know his nap time had ended. Virginia’s world was back to its normal chaos.

  “I must get home,” announced Belinda, rising from her chair. She leaned over and gave Jenny’s thin shoulders a warm hug. “I do hope you change your mind and stay longer,” she said, but Jenny was noncommittal. Belinda then turned to Virginia and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, dear. Now that the weather has warmed, maybe you’ll make it into town for tea. It’s been a long time.”

  Virginia acknowledged that it had been.

  “Tell Jonathan and Slate I said hello.” She was about to pass through the door when she turned back. “Jenny,” she said, as though she just had the idea. “If staying here is too … too lively for you, why don’t you come in and spend some time with me? It’s quiet at my house. Much too quiet most of the time. You can read all you like. I have a whole shelf of books I doubt you’ve read, and there are more at the library.”

  Jenny smiled and gave a little wave. “Thanks,” she answered, but Virginia was quite sure she had no intention of accepting the offer.

  “Oh, Mama, here’s a loaf of that oatmeal bread you used to make.” And Virginia followed her mother out on the porch. Belinda quickly turned to her. “She looks a fright,” she whis? pered. “Is she well?”

  Virginia could feel the tears gathering in her eyes. She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Has she said anything?”

  Virginia swallowed away the lump in her throat and fought for control of her voice. “She’s … she’s very ill, Mama, but she doesn’t want any fuss about it.”

  She read the horror in her mother’s eyes. “What …?” she began.

  Virginia wished to blurt it all out to her nurse-mother, but she checked her impulse. “I can’t talk. I know little—Jenny made me promise. And I have to get back to the children.”

  Belinda gave Virginia another kiss on the cheek and said, “Thanks for the bread,” and turned to go. “Call me,” she murmured. “Call me as soon as you can talk freely.”

  Virginia turned back inside. That’s the problem, she thought. Jenny has made me promise not to talk freely.

  In spite of the sunshine outside and the laughter of small child
ren, a gloom seemed to settle over the house with Belinda’s departure. Virginia went about cleaning up from the coffee time. Jenny took her pack of cigarettes and another cup of coffee and headed for the shed. Her lungs are gone and she still insists on poisoning herself, Virginia noted, vexed with her stub? born friend.

  She tried to put aside her impatience with Jenny and went straight to her supper preparations. Mindy would soon be home. Perhaps her presence would dispel some of the heavi? ness.

  But when the child arrived, her face was troubled. She looked around the kitchen. “Is Mama Jenny still here?” was her first question.

  “Yes. She’s out right now.”

  Mindy looked both relieved and worried. “She hasn’t changed her mind, has she?”

  “No. She still plans to go back home soon.”

  “I don’t mean about that. I mean about God. She still doesn’t love Him, does she?”

  “I—we haven’t talked about it … yet.”

  “But she doesn’t even close her eyes when we pray.”

  At Virginia’s knowing smile, Mindy rushed to explain. “Last night Jamie pulled my hair during prayer time, and I opened my eyes and Mama Jenny’s eyes were wide open. She was just sitting there looking at her hands.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t think she likes God at all.”

  “Mindy, honey, we mustn’t judge people for opening their eyes during grace.”

  Mindy nodded solemnly. “But she doesn’t pray to God at all.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She told me.”

  “She told you?”

  “When I went to my room last night to get my school clothes ready for today, I told her that I prayed for her every night. She said I might as well save my breath—it hadn’t done one bit of good. I asked her if she prayed, and she … she laughed and said, ‘Never.’ “

  “She said that … to you?”

  Mindy nodded, her eyes dark with concern. “I thought … I thought God answered prayer,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Virginia bent and gathered her daughter close. “He does. Never, never lose faith in Him. He does. But sometimes, sometimes it just takes years and years of praying. And sometimes—sometimes people resist what He wants to do.”

  “Mama Jenny’s resisting.”

  “I think she is.”

  Mindy thought about it. “I wish she would go away again,” she said quietly. “I don’t like her to be here. I can pray for her just as good when she’s in her own city.”

  Virginia did not know how to respond. Jonathan was right. Jenny’s presence was upsetting the child. Just how much ground would they lose?

  Again Jonathan retired early, leaving the two women to talk on their own. Virginia was not sure if it was for their sake or because he simply did not wish to play further at being the cheerful host. She knew he would spend the time reading until she came up to bed, keeping the light shaded from the sleeping children.

  Slate, too, went to his room, though Virginia wondered fleetingly just what he would do with the long evening hours. Perhaps he would listen to the radio his folks had sent him for Christmas. Virginia had little time herself for the radio. The strange crackling voices put her on edge. It didn’t seem normal that somebody so many miles away should be heard in her living room. But Jonathan seemed to enjoy it, and the children took great delight in the radio and its music.

  Virginia put another log on the fire and watched the sparks dance upward. She never tired of watching the flames. They seemed alive, full of vigor and joy. Yes, joy, that was it. They always looked as though they were dancing in pure delight.

  “I’m off,” Jenny said with a yawn. “All this visiting exhausts me.”

  You ought to try running after little ones and keeping up with meals and laundry, thought Virginia but then felt guilty. Jenny was in no condition to do any of those things.

  “Will Jonathan be able to take me to the train tomorrow?”

  This was the first time Jenny had asked. On previous trips, she had informed them of her plans.

  “You’re quite sure you want to go … so soon?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then I’m sure he will be able to arrange it.”

  “I’m going out for a cigarette before I go to bed.”

  She left, and Virginia did not even pick up her knitting. She just sat and watched the red-and-gold flames lick at the new log until charred patches began to appear on each side of it. She was deep in thought—and she was weary. In a way that she did not wish to put into words, she agreed with Mindy. She would be glad when Jenny returned to her city. As much as she wanted her to stay, she would be glad when she was gone. Her visit had been a strain on the entire family.

  Jenny was soon back. Virginia smiled, then sobered to say, “Jenny, you asked for no … no exhibitions. But I just want you to know that … that if there is ever anything I—we can do, we’re here.”

  Jenny nodded but said nothing. Instead she moved toward the stairs, then turned back. “Don’t bother sending Mindy to school in the morning.”

  Virginia frowned. “What do you mean? It’s a school day. We never keep her home from her classes even to see someone to the train.”

  “She’ll not just be seeing me to the train. I’ll be taking my daughter with me.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Virginia felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She tried to rise from her chair but fell back, staring numbly at Jenny’s back as she ascended the stairs, coughing as she climbed.

  As the words sank into her numbed brain, Virginia slumped forward, face in her hands, and began to weep. Surely Jenny couldn’t mean it. Surely not. She had not spoken more than a dozen words to the child since she had been in the house. Mindy was their beloved daughter. Jenny had herself given the child to them. Many, many years earlier. Mindy was theirs. Theirs.

  Then her own words, spoken such a short time ago to little Martha, rushed back to her churning thoughts. “You don’t give people away. The relationship is still there.”

  It was true. Jenny was still Mindy’s mother—though she had long since relinquished the right. She had not wanted the little one. Had been about to place the toddler in an orphanage. An orphanage—with both parents still very much alive.

  Virginia continued to weep. How could they ever stand losing Mindy? What would those little shadows think—Martha, Olivia, and James? How would Mindy feel, bereft of all her family in one swift, wrenching choice of a selfish mother’s desire? And Jonathan?

  Jonathan! Virginia sat straight in the chair, beginning to come to her senses. I must tell Jonathan.

  She managed to get to her feet and started for the stairs, tears still coursing down her cheeks. Whatever would Jonathan do when he heard what she had to tell him?

  Jonathan, propped up in bed, was reading an article in Farmer’s Magazine. He had borrowed her pillow to elevate his head. Without looking up from the page, he said in a low voice, “You’re early tonight. All talked out?”

  “Jonathan,” she gasped and could say no more for her tears.

  He looked up quickly, then thrust his magazine aside. “What is it? Has something happened? Where’s Jenny?”

  Virginia could only shake her head wildly.

  In two long strides he was in front of her and taking her by the shoulders. “What is it, Virginia?” he insisted, gently shaking her.

  Virginia fought for control. She had to talk. Had to make sense—but her whole world was whirling around her. “Let’s go down to the kitchen so the children … ”

  Jonathan followed her quickly back down the stairs. Virginia turned to face him, took a ragged breath and said, “Jenny—” She took another gulp to quiet herself. “Jenny is leaving tomorrow. … ” How could she actually say the words? “She’s … she’s taking Mindy.”

  Virginia had never seen that expression on her husband’s face before. He pulled her tightly to his chest. His arms held her so close she could scarcely brea
the. “Oh, Virginia” seemed to come from someplace deep within him. Then he said, “Shh. Shh. It’s all right. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

  It was several minutes before Virginia could get control of her emotions. She had expected Jonathan to be angry, then to grieve along with her. Was he simply going to give in to Jenny’s determined plan? Had she misread him all these years? Did he not think of Mindy as their daughter? Virginia could not believe what was happening, but she let Jonathan silence her sobs and try to calm her troubled thoughts. The morning seemed to be much too far away to wait. She wanted to talk about it now.

  “Let’s go to bed,” said Jonathan, and his voice boded no argument. “We’ll get some sleep.” He led her back upstairs to their bedroom and carefully skirted their slumbering brood. Virginia had to cover her mouth to stifle another sob as she looked at Mindy’s face, deep in sleep. Oh, Mindy, her heart called out to the small figure under the blanket, what are we going to do?

  Jonathan turned to the bed and moved Virginia’s pillow back to its rightful side. She could not read his eyes, but his chin was jutted slightly as though his jaw was clenched.

  Virginia started to make further comment, but he cut her off with a rather sharply whispered, “This is not the time of day to be dealing with this. Let’s leave it.”

  He had never before refused to talk about any problems at night. They had always been able to discuss and plan and sort through what should be done in situations they faced. Virginia could only stare at him. He seemed so … so different than she was expecting. Was it possible that he really didn’t care about what happened to Mindy? No. She shook her head. It must be something else. …

  She mopped at her tearstained cheeks and moved to get her nightdress.

  “I forgot to check the fire,” she murmured as she slipped her dress over her head.

  “I’ll get it.”

  Jonathan was gone for quite a while. Virginia was about to go check when he finally came back. He said nothing, just slipped into bed beside her. She did not stir or speak. Perhaps he thought she had already fallen asleep, for he did not lean across to kiss her good-night as he always did. She lay still with her eyes closed. She feared that if he did show his usual affection, she would begin to cry again. That would never do. They both had to get some rest.