Like Gold Refined

by Janette Oke

  Sleep would not come for Virginia. She lay in the dark? ness, staring up at a ceiling she could not see. There was no light from the moon to outline the room. The night appeared to be as dark as her own soul. Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed.

  Jonathan, who usually slept the moment he laid his head on the pillow, also seemed restless. Tonight he tossed and turned from side to side. She heard him sigh and was tempted to speak, but she held her silence. They would talk about it in the morning, he’d said.

  But what could they say? What good would any discussion do? Jenny was claiming her child. There was nothing they could do about it. But how could they live without Mindy? How could she live without them? Virginia buried her face in her pillow to muffle the sound of her weeping.

  Virginia’s thoughts whirled—perhaps foolishly—with thoughts of Buttercup. Who would now shower love and attention on the horse? And Murphy? He waited at the end of the lane every afternoon for Mindy to come home from school and ran to meet her with joyous yips that the family was all back together again.

  Virginia could not help the tears. Off and on throughout the long night she cried into her pillow. If only Jonathan were awake. If only he would talk—now. If only he would hold her and let her cry. She nearly reached for him, but she held back, uncertain about what he was feeling.

  She tried to pray. Her prayers were little more than snatches of phrases, pleading for God to please, please intervene. She was far removed from the ability to say, “Thy will be done.” Far too distraught to even make much sense in her petitions.

  At last she did manage to fall into a restless sleep. But she did not sleep for long. She wondered if Jonathan was managing to get some rest, then realized that his side of the bed was empty.

  She glanced toward the window, but there was no hint of dawn. She propped herself up on her elbow, straining in the darkness to see the clock by the bed. She fumbled for a match, and flickering light responded to the strike against the side of the box. Virginia lifted the globe of the lamp and touched the match to the wick. A small flame grew until the room was washed in a soft light. The sleeping children did not even stir. The clock said it was three-twenty-five. Three-twenty-five, and Jonathan was not in bed beside her.

  Virginia was stepping onto the rug by the bed when she heard Jonathan’s footsteps in the hallway. He looked surprised when he entered the room and saw the lamp lit.

  “I was worried,” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just checking” was his noncommittal answer.

  “On the fires?”

  “The children. Go back to sleep.”

  Virginia’s eyes went quickly to the little ones in various positions of sleep. They were all sleeping peacefully on their makeshift beds. Mindy’s arm was draped across Martha’s shoulders.

  Jonathan climbed into bed again, and Virginia leaned over to blow out the lamp.

  Jonathan reached for Virginia, drawing her close to him. But when she began to speak, he softly hushed her. It was clear that he did not think they should get involved in a discussion in the middle of the night. Virginia took comfort from his arms—his closeness. She laid her head against his shoulder, feeling as if she had cried all the tears from her body. She felt him kiss the top of her head as he snuggled her in against his side. “Sleep,” he whispered into her hair.

  But Virginia could not sleep. Over and over in her mind she fought against the realization that Mindy was leaving them. Mindy. Their oldest daughter. The one whom they had loved—had patiently waited till she could love them in return. What would they ever do without her?

  And then again the even more terrifying thought, Whatever will Mindy do without us? Mindy scarcely knew the woman who was her mother. Jenny was only a name—a prayer request. The girl knew nothing about Jenny’s outbursts and impatience. She knew nothing of Jenny’s friends—if indeed Jenny still had friends. She knew nothing about that faraway apartment in the downtown of that distant city. There would be no family members to welcome her home from school each day. School? What would Mindy do for school? She was a good student. Now she would go to a new school where she knew no one.

  And church. Most certainly Jenny would not introduce Mindy to a church.

  Virginia felt panic-stricken with the continuing realizations. Life would be a nightmare for the little girl.

  And Jenny was ill. She would not be strong enough, aware enough, to care for the needs of a child.

  Why, oh, why does Jenny want Mindy now? Virginia’s silent cry nearly tore her apart. After all the years of ignoring her—why come for her now?

  And then the truth hit her. Jenny was dying. She was lonely—scared. Needing someone. And so she returned to see if that little girl from so long ago could fill in those empty places inside. But why Mindy? Why didn’t she get a nurse? A companion? Why drag a child into such a situation? It was unthinkable. Totally unthinkable. Virginia had always known that Jenny was selfish. Self-centered. But this was too much. Just too much.

  Virginia could bear the sleepless waiting no longer. She slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs, padding into the living room to stare down at the smoldering logs on the grate. They gave out little warmth and the room was chilly. She reached for the poker and stirred the logs. A brighter flame began to dance around the blackened chunks of wood, and she stirred a little more, then knelt down and blew on the flame. It fanned into life, and she threw on a few smaller pieces, then tried to block out all thought while she watched the flames build.

  It would take the new flames some time to reheat the room, and she crossed to the couch to pick up an afghan. Wrapping the blanket closely about her shoulders she lowered herself to the nearby rug in front of the fireplace and tried to get her mind and emotions under control so she could concentrate. There had to be a way to solve this. There just had to.

  Jenny could stay on with them. The idea hit her with a force both shocking and full of hope. That way she would be with Mindy as well as have people to care for her.

  Even as she entertained the new plan, Virginia remembered how much the noise and activity of the younger children bothered Jenny. And Jenny’s need for cigarettes—that would be an ongoing problem. Maybe she—and Jonathan—could consent to her smoking in her room. Her room—that was the children’s room. They couldn’t go very long with all the little ones sleeping on the floor of their bedroom.

  “Lord, what should we do?” she prayed, her voice barely above a whisper. She did manage to have some coherent thoughts—thoughts she hoped would express her feelings to her loving God, her Father, who certainly understood her grief and turmoil. And she prayed for Mindy—for wisdom and the right words to tell her about this. She prayed for their other children, who would be losing a dearly loved big sister.

  She prayed for Jenny—that as she faced death she would turn to the Savior. All of the anguish of her soul was poured out into her prayer. She felt spent. Entirely exhausted. And in spite of the briskly burning fire and the afghan, she still felt chilled.

  She sat in her huddle listening to the ticking of the kitchen clock. Each tick-tock meant one less second of having Mindy. One less second. Oh, if only she could hold her. Whisper to her words of love. But she would not waken the child to meet her own needs.

  She had to toss more logs on the fire to keep it blazing. At long last she heard soft steps on the stairs. Was he up because it was time—or because he, too, could not sleep?

  Jonathan stood in the doorway and looked at her, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair. “Did you get any rest?” he asked at last.

  “Some.”

  He moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the stove going and put on the kettle,” he said. “I think we could both use some coffee.”

  He sounded so … so much the same … and yet so different. Her whole world seemed different. She wasn’t sure how to function anymore, how to relate to him. …

  She still did not stir. Wrapped in her afghan cocoon, trying to bury hers
elf away from reality for as long as she could. The children would soon be waking. Then, whether she liked it or not, she would need to return to the world. She was a mother. A caregiver. Her own pain would need to be laid aside.

  She leaned her head forward on her knees and shut her eyes. But even then the scene would not go away. A house—their house—without Mindy. An empty chair at the table. A long, vacant lane with no little girl, braids swinging, coming home from school, book bag and red lunch pail at her side, Murphy dancing around in front of her.

  You should be thankful for the years you’ve had her, a little voice somewhere deep inside seemed to say, but Virginia was not ready to accept that. It was unfair to be family, and then to be torn apart. It was totally unfair.

  What about Jenny? Jenny had no one. Jenny was suffering, was facing the hereafter, without God. Wasn’t it selfish to want to withhold her child? Virginia had so much. So many on whom to lean. So many little arms to slip around her neck in warm hugs. So many little faces to give her wet kisses. Was she being selfish?

  But Virginia pushed away all those thoughts. Perhaps … perhaps if she were the only one to bear this loss, perhaps if it didn’t mean pain for Mindy, she could endure it. But Mindy … dear Mindy. What would it mean for her?

  She wasn’t aware that Jonathan stood beside her until he spoke. “Coffee? It might warm you some.”

  Virginia stirred, opened her eyes, and shook her head as though to clear the cobwebs. She stood slowly to her feet and accepted the outstretched cup before moving to the chair. Jonathan lowered his tall frame into the other one. He sipped from his own cup in silence. Then he turned to her. His voice held a tone that she had not heard before.

  “The children will soon be awake. As much as possible … ” He stopped, then picked up with, “I think it would be wise that nothing be said in front of them. That we carry on … as normal.” He sipped from his coffee cup again.

  Virginia nodded dumbly. She didn’t have the strength to argue … and besides, Jonathan was likely right. It would be bad enough when the time actually came.

  They finished their coffee in silence. Virginia stood to take her cup to the kitchen, but Jonathan took it from her. “I’d best go get dressed,” she managed to say and he nodded.

  As Jonathan had predicted, by the time she reached the room the children were stirring. Olivia was the first one awake, and Virginia knew she would not be content until she had rousted the others from their beds.

  Martha opened her eyes, then snuggled closer to Mindy’s back to catch a bit more sleep. But Mindy was already stirring—stretching. Those familiar movements brought a new wave of sadness to Virginia. She muffled a sob and hastened to finish dressing.

  By the time she had leaned over to tie her shoes, James was awake. No stirring and stretching for him. No snuggling back into blankets for a few more moments of shut-eye. He was up with a flourish. Talking even before he was on his feet. From across the room Mindy giggled.

  “What did he say?” asked Martha, still blinking sleep from her eyes.

  “He said, ‘Horsey. Whoa.’ I think he wants to go for a ride,” Mindy told her.

  Mindy was the only family member who seemed to be able to understand James. At least she thought she could, and he usually proved her to be right.

  They were all up now. Virginia pulled herself together and began the dressing chores. Mindy helped Olivia while Virginia worked on getting lively James into his clothes.

  “You got your dress on backward,” Mindy laughed and helped Martha pull her dress around to the front. They all had a good giggle. At last they were ready to troop downstairs. Virginia once again reminded them to go quietly so as not to wake up their guest. But she felt the irony even as she was putting a finger to her lips. Here they were trying to protect someone who was about to tear their world apart. For a fleeting moment she wanted to stand on the landing and scream until Jenny ran from the house with her hands over her ears.

  The children chattered and laughed through breakfast, filling the silence between Virginia and Jonathan. Slate didn’t do much talking in the morning anyway.

  “We’re having a spelling bee today,” announced Mindy. She loved spelling bees and did very well.

  Oh, but you won’t be going to school was Virginia’s thought. But she could not say the words. She could not even look up lest the lump in her throat explode into wild sobs.

  “Spell ‘cow,’ “ challenged Martha.

  Mindy spelled “cow.”

  “Spell ‘horse.’ “

  Again Mindy spelled the word. Martha seemed intrigued with the sound of the letters.

  “Spell … ” She looked about her, thinking long and hard, “ ‘pancake syrup.’ “

  “That’s two words.” But Mindy spelled them both.

  “That’s right,” beamed Martha, though of course Mindy could have spelled them backward, for all the younger child knew.

  “That’s right,” parroted Olivia, thumping her fork on the table in excitement.

  “You’d best finish your breakfast or you’ll be late for school,” said Jonathan patiently. “We’re a little late this morning.”

  Virginia’s head came up. What did he mean? He knew Mindy was not to go to school. She had agreed with keeping things as normal as possible for the children. But Jenny had made it very clear that Mindy should not go to school.

  “Let’s see,” Jonathan was saying as he reached for the Bible. “Whose turn is it to say our Scripture memory verse for the week?”

  Three hands went up. James mimicked them, lifting his, spoon included, and managed to spill a bite of pancake and syrup down his arm. The children all laughed in glee, and James, pleased with his performance, joined in noisily.

  Virginia went for a cloth to clean him up.

  “I think it’s Martha’s turn,” said Mindy.

  Martha, thrilled, needed help to get started. “All things … ” prompted Jonathan.

  “All things … ” She squirmed on her chair.

  “All things work for good together.”

  “Together for good.”

  “Together for good.”

  “To … ” her father said.

  She frowned in concentration, then her face brightened. “To us.”

  “Who love God,” finished Jonathan. “Close enough.” He turned to the day’s Scripture passage.

  Virginia, who normally listened intently, heard little of the day’s reading. Her thoughts were still on the verse they had been studying all week. She had known the words for many years. Now they were seeking to instill in their children the verses that they would need for life. All things work together for good to them that love God. She pushed the verse aside. It was quite a coincidence that it should be the verse they had chosen for this particular week. Or was it?

  For good continued its refrain in her mind during the prayer time together.

  CHAPTER 12

  What are you doing?” Virginia asked, confused.

  “Making Mindy’s lunch.”

  Jonathan never made Mindy’s lunch. Virginia shook her head, trying to understand. Then it dawned—she had not even thought about Mindy’s needing a lunch for the long train ride.

  “I’ll do it,” said Virginia, sounding as weary as she felt. “We’d better be generous.”

  “No, you go ahead and clear the table. Mindy will keep me on track.”

  So the two of them made the lunch.

  As soon as the food was tucked in the lunch box, Jonathan turned to Slate, who was already putting on his heavy jacket. “I’m going to be tied up for a while this morning. After you feed and water, do you want to work a bit with the little bay? She seems a bit skittish. I wanna catch it right away. Something might have spooked her. Let her know she has nothing to fear.”

  Slate nodded. A chorus of good-byes followed as child after child ran for a good-bye hug. Slate stood there grinning. “You’d think I was heading off to India or something.”

  Then he was gone after a s
wish of cold air at the closing of the door.

  Jonathan went to the wall phone and rang up a number. “Mother—good morning.” He was the only family member to call Belinda “Mother.”

  “I was wondering if you have anything pressing today. No? Well, actually—not all of us. Could we bring in the three youngest for a while? Virginia got little sleep last night. She could sure do with a few hours of rest. Good. Thanks. I’ll drop them off. See you then. Bye.”

  Virginia found herself frowning at the mysterious call. “Why did you do that? I could have managed.”

  But Jonathan merely patted her shoulder and moved on. The next thing she knew he was getting coats and mittens on the children, telling them they were to have a day at Grandma Belinda’s house. Squeals of excitement followed. “Would you collect the things for James, please?” he asked Virginia. “I never know what to put in the bag.”

  Virginia went dumbly up the stairs to do as bidden. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Was everything all off base—or was it her weariness and grief that made it seem that way?

  By the time she returned with the items for James, Jonathan had the children all ready. Even Mindy. So that’s it, thought Virginia. He does not wish them to be here when Mindy leaves. Virginia fought hard to keep back the tears. Jonathan was right. It would be very hard for the children. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  And Mindy. One last car ride with her siblings. One last ride—and the child was not even aware of it.

  She kissed them all, holding back her tears until Jonathan had ushered them out the door. Then she broke down com? pletely. She managed to cross to the table, laid her head on her arms, and sobbed.

  But she could not cry for long. There was much to be done. She could not do any packing for the child until Jenny got up. All her clothes were in the dresser drawers and closet of the children’s bedroom. She did do up the breakfast dishes, occasional tears dripping off her chin into the dishwater. Then she climbed the stairs and made up the beds, picked up little night clothes, and tidied the room. Mindy’s nightgown was tenderly carried back downstairs. She would pack it along with the other clothing.