Like Gold Refined

by Janette Oke

  Virginia could not wait to get home to her own bed—hopefully to sleep. “Here,” her mother the nurse said as she slipped a small packet into Virginia’s hand. “These tablets are very mild, but they will help you sleep.”

  “My head aches so I can’t—”

  “They’ll help that, too.”

  And then they were all tucked in the car and on their way home through the night. Virginia looked around at the sleepy little ensemble. She was thankful they were all together—with Mindy. She had not known that morning if … But she shook the thought from her mind.

  Oh, God, she prayed silently, make Jenny change her mind. Please—don’t let her go through with this. She’ll destroy us all.

  The next weeks were miserable and emotionally wrenching. Virginia felt hopeful one day and despairing the next. No word had come from Jenny. Virginia dared to hope that she had indeed decided not to go through with her threat, but Jonathan cautioned her that things moved slowly through the court system. Silence did not necessarily mean they were now safe.

  Virginia woke each morning, the tension of the previous day leaving her weary and strung out. Jonathan was being very wary. She could see it in his face, feel it in his body. Each day he delivered Mindy to school and picked her up at day’s end. The teacher was surprised but did not ask questions when she was instructed that no one else was ever to pick up the child. Not even her grandfather Woods.

  Virginia wondered if Mr. Woods was aware of Jenny’s plans. His manner toward them had not seemed to change when they met in church on Sundays. But perhaps he was adept at hiding his feelings. She could not be sure, and she found herself always on guard—looking for little things that might give some awareness of Jenny’s intentions.

  Because they did not want to chance any word getting back to Mindy, they did not let anyone else know except for Belinda and Drew. This put further strain on Virginia, who felt she always had to carefully guard her words when talking to Clara or Francine, or when writing to her brothers.

  It seemed the whole world had changed. Instead of living in a relaxed, warm world of caring family and friends, Virginia now resided in some dark pit of frightening doubts and suspicions. She watched, she listened, she suspected evil to come from any direction at any moment. The whole situation left her strained and pale.

  She tried, she desperately tried, to leave it all with the Lord. To pray for peace and confidence that His will be done. She would struggle through until she came to some kind of settlement on the issue, then something new would happen and she would find herself almost paralyzed with fear again. She scolded herself over and over for her lack of faith—and that only worsened her plight. The guilt added to the tension that characterized her days.

  The letter, delivered by the usual mail, was addressed to both her and Jonathan and was from a city lawyer, stating that they were to appear in court to hear a child-custody case against them. It had happened. Their worst nightmare had come true.

  It meant a trip to the city. It meant making arrangements for the children. It meant train fare and hotel rooms and legal fees and all manner of unforeseen expenses. And it meant a terrible toll on mind and body.

  Jonathan quickly sold one of the young brood mares to a farmer who had been anxious for some months to buy her. He did not get the price she was worth, but he hoped it would be enough to pay the initial expenses.

  Belinda moved out to the farm to care for the children. The four were both excited and puzzled. Their folks had never left them and gone to the city before. To the smallest ones, “city” was a word they did not know or understand. Mindy, from her years of schooling, had some idea. “It’s like a big, big town,” she informed them, making their eyes grow wide.

  “Can I go, too?” Martha asked.

  Virginia informed her that she could not—not now. Maybe someday.

  “Why are you going?” was the next inevitable question.

  “We have some … some business.”

  “What city are you going to?” asked Mindy.

  Virginia had hoped this question would not be asked. But she named the city.

  “That—isn’t that the city where Mama Jenny lives?”

  “Yes … yes, it is,” Virginia admitted.

  Mindy’s eyes lit up. She was still faithfully praying for Mama Jenny.

  “Will you see her?”

  “I … I think we likely will,” Virginia said, busying herself with something to avoid eye contact with the child.

  “I’ll send her a little note,” said Mindy, running to get some paper and a pencil.

  Oh, no, thought Virginia. This might not be good. If the judge thinks Mindy is attached, is in touch with Jenny, it might influence the decision. Yet, could she turn Mindy down? Could she take the note and then “forget” to deliver it? No—she couldn’t be deceitful. Yet if Jenny ended up in court waving a note from her child, what would it mean?

  “Why … why don’t you wait … with your note,” she said when Mindy reappeared. “You can write a much longer one—later—when you have more time. It’s time for you to be leaving for school soon.”

  The note truly would have been rushed. Mindy nodded in agreement and went for her school bag.

  Virginia felt like weeping. She had been so careful in all Mindy’s growing-up years to instill in the girl a respect for the mother she did not know. Now it seemed she was having to tear to shreds the very foundations of truth and genuine care she had worked so hard to build. It was true that Mindy, to date, knew nothing of the traumatic shift in relationship—but Virginia did. She felt she was betraying both Mindy and Jenny.

  Drew traveled with them, and Virginia took comfort in having her father there. At least he knew about courts. At least he could give advice. But most importantly, he was her father and had been as much a grandparent to Mindy as to her other children. She felt some protection from what lay ahead just by his very presence.

  It was all confusing and exhausting and foreign to Virginia. There were court appointments, delays, questions, and end? less probing. Jenny was there, sitting sullenly across the room. Virginia noticed she had used rouge on her sunken cheeks to try to hide her pallor, but she still looked peaked and drawn. Her lawyer drew his own interpretation of her physical state when he told the court the anguish that his client had been going through because of the severance from her child.

  That’s not true, Virginia wanted to explain, but a small nudge from Jonathan, who must have felt her tense, brought her back to her senses. One did not make such a scene in a courtroom. There were countless rules and regulations about what could be said and when.

  Virginia looked across at Jenny. Truly she looked awful. Now and then spasms of coughing, which she fought to con? trol, shook her frail frame. It made Virginia’s heart ache just to watch her. Then a sudden thought brought her forward in her seat. Perhaps Jenny would die before the issue even went to trial, and they would be spared the whole ugly proceeding. Mindy would be theirs. Virginia shrank back in her place, shocked and shamed at such a thought. What a terrible thing to think. Her friend still did not know God. If she were to die now, neither Virginia’s nor Mindy’s prayers would have been answered—and certainly Virginia would wish death on no one in order to fulfill her own desires.

  No, Jenny’s demise was not the answer to their problems. Reason. Justice. Mindy’s welfare. Those were the things that must guide the decision of the courts.

  Virginia thought that this session would never end. She couldn’t follow all the legal jargon, but at long last her father was rising, and Jonathan was pulling her up to her feet beside him. The judge was exiting the room.

  “Is it over?” she whispered.

  Her father nodded. “This part,” he answered, his voice low.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a trial date. The case now goes to trial.”

  “ Trial? I don’t understand. We aren’t making any charges … ”

  “No, you are being charged—in a way.”


  “We are?” Virginia was incredulous. “You mean … we are being charged with … with keeping Jenny’s child?” she gasped.

  “That’s about it,” said her father, stuffing papers back into his attaché case.

  “But that’s absurd. Jenny gave her to us.”

  “There are no documents.” Her father sounded tired. “But—”

  “Her lawyers will say she was distraught over her broken marriage relationship—which she was. That she was not thinking clearly—which she probably wasn’t. That she agreed to leave her with you—for the time. And she now wishes to resume the mother-daughter relationship.”

  “But … ”

  But there was nothing Virginia could say. Her head ached again. She felt nauseated and weak. She needed some fresh air. “Please,” she turned to Jonathan. “I need to get outside.”

  He helped her from the close courtroom. She barely noticed its richly paneled walls and straight-backed wooden benches. Down the marble stairs, past the crowd that milled about, to a bench under the shade of a tall tree. She lowered herself to the seat and took several deep breaths. As she regained some composure, the realization hung heavy over her—they had only taken the first steps. Much more still lay ahead.

  Back home with the children and duties of wife and mother, Virginia tried to pick up the pieces and go on with life as she had known it. But it was very hard. That small date circled on their calendar seemed to loom larger and more menacing with every passing day. Jonathan and Slate worked almost nonstop with the horses to ensure they were ready for the spring sale. They would need every dollar the auction would bring to pay their legal costs.

  Drew had contacted a city lawyer, experienced in such cases, and preliminary information had been passed back and forth. The attorney now was preparing their case for the court appearance. Already a sizable amount of money had been transferred to him by way of a bank loan to be paid back at the time of the spring sale.

  Virginia tried to ignore the cloud of uncertainty that hung over the household. Even the task of planting her spring garden did not fill her with enthusiasm and anticipation as it had in the past. Everything—everything seemed to be focused on that one date on their calendar.

  The children no doubt felt the tension, though nothing was said, even from Mindy. All the daily activities, including prayer time, seemed strained.

  At night when Mindy included her usual prayer for “Mama Jenny, and help her to love you,” Virginia’s heart felt as if it were being torn in two. Virginia and Jonathan dared not voice their deepest concerns until in the privacy of their own room. And then in mere whispers. Virginia wondered if she might collapse under the strain of it all.

  It was almost a relief when she had something else to worry about. A letter from Danny told of the birth of their child. It had been a difficult delivery, and Alvira had not gained back her strength as they had hoped. She was holding her own, but they did ask for the family’s prayers.

  The baby seemed to be doing fine. They had named him Robert Daniel. Virginia liked the name. She longed to be able to see this new nephew. Her prayer focus changed a bit and some of the tension left her.

  Then came another diversion. Slate, who had been steadily maturing, began to court one of the young ladies in the con? gregation. She was a fine girl, from a good family, and Virginia smiled to herself as she remembered those times from her own youth. But Jonathan seemed troubled, though he said nothing. At length Virginia felt she should discuss it with him.

  “You don’t care for Lucy?” Virginia prompted after they had retired one night.

  “What makes you say that? Of course I like Lucy. She’s a fine young lady.”

  “But you don’t seem pleased—about Slate. About his inter? est in her.”

  He was silent for a long time. It suddenly dawned on her that the problem might not be with Lucy. “You think—we’ll lose him?”

  “What I’m paying him wouldn’t support a wife and family.”

  “But he does get room and board. It’s a fair wage,” Virginia reminded him.

  “Well … he won’t expect his wife to live here.”

  Virginia pondered. “No, no I don’t expect he would. But they are still young. Surely … surely they aren’t seriously considering marriage … yet.”

  “The boy should have a few years to lay aside—to prepare for the day that does happen,” said Jonathan. “I had hoped—had planned—to offer him a partnership. Gradually let him pick some of his own stock. Work together here. Maybe even give him some acres for a house.”

  Virginia pushed up in bed, her eyes shining in the lamplight. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Virginia,” he said, “we don’t know if we’ll even have any horses left when we get through this thing. Not for Slate—not for us.”

  She slumped back onto the pillow. There it was again. Their whole future, their very lives, depended on what would happen over the next months. “The thing,” as Jonathan always referred to the upcoming trial, was a threat hanging over their heads every waking moment.

  From then on, the sight of Lucy’s shining eyes whenever Slate walked toward her made Virginia sigh rather than smile. It didn’t seem fair that even this shared joy should be taken from them.

  The day was warm and inviting, and Virginia decided she needed to get out. She had not visited her grandparents for some weeks. It was time for her to drop in and see how they were doing.

  With Jonathan so busy with the horses, she would not ask him to take on three lively children, too. She got them ready to go with her and went to inform Jonathan of her plans.

  “I won’t be long,” she promised. “I’ll be home to fix your dinner.”

  He nodded, his face acknowledging the fact that the outing would do her good.

  “We’re going to see the farm Grandma and Grandpa,” called Martha excitedly. Olivia clapped her hands to indicate how she felt about the proposed trip.

  Virginia smiled. Her children lived on a farm, but to them the only real farm was the one where Grandpa Clark and Grandma Marty lived. That was The Farm. The one with the apple trees and porch swing and kittens in the barn.

  The motorcar started with no problem, and they were on their way. Virginia had to ask Martha to take charge of James. He insisted on standing on the seat so he could see everything there was to see. Martha wrapped her arms around him so a bump in the road would not send him sprawling into the dash.

  Soon they were pulling into the driveway. Virginia was as excited as her offspring. It always felt good to be back in her grandparents’ yard with all its memories of family times.

  Mr. Simcoe greeted them at the door. Virginia had expected her grandmother and felt a moment of panic.

  “Come in,” Mr. Simcoe welcomed them, no sign of any concern on his face. “Folks’ll be right glad to see you all.”

  “Where are—?” began Virginia, but then she saw her grand? mother slowly coming up beside the man, a big welcoming smile on her face. “Come in, my dear. Come in.”

  “Now, why didn’t you just stay put?” he scolded gently. “I told you I’d bring ’em on in.”

  Marty’s smile deepened. “You think I want to lose even one minute of this visit? I might be slow in gettin’ round, but I can still move my body to the door.”

  Virginia frowned as she noted the difficulty with which her grandmother moved. “Did you fall again, Grandma?”

  “No, child, I didn’t fall. I jest got me a hip thet don’t want to work anymore. Gets stiff when I sit and sore when I don’t. Come in. Come in all of you. Here—come give Grandma a hug.” She held out her arms to the children.

  From the corner of the room Virginia heard her grandfather stir. He might have just wakened from a nap. He blinked once or twice, licked dry lips, and began to grin. “Well … lookee here,” he said. “We got us company.”

  “We came to see you.” Martha stated the obvious, then ran to give him his hug. “We wanted to visit awhile.”

 
; “ That’s a wonderful idea,” he agreed, holding out his arms.

  Olivia was right behind her older sister, and James trotted along on short legs, hopping a bit as he ran and squealing in his excitement.

  “I think Grandma can find some cookies,” Marty began. “May not be as good as yer mama’s, but I think we got some here somewhere.”

  Virginia set a small basket on the cupboard. “I brought a few things,” she said.

  Marty hobbled across to where the basket sat and lifted back the tea towel that covered the contents. “Gingersnaps. My favorite. And some lemon cake.” She smacked her lips and turned to her husband. “What do ya think of thet, Pa? Lemon cake. Haven’t had thet fer a while. I’ll put on the tea water.”

  “You just sit yerself,” said Mr. Simcoe, moving to get the kettle. “I’ll put on the tea water.”

  Clark chuckled. “ They have them one awful time,” he said, seeming amused. “Jest like two younguns, the two of ’em. Always jawin’ at one another.”

  “She still thinks she’s a teenager,” noted Mr. Simcoe play? fully.

  “An’ he thinks I’m an ole woman,” she countered.

  From his corner vantage point, Clark chuckled again. Virginia went to kiss him on the cheek.

  “Where’s your other one?” he asked suddenly.

  At Virginia’s puzzled expression he went on, “You got another one, haven’t ya?”

  “Mindy? She’s in school.”

  “She in school already? My, seems she’s jest a little thing. In school already. They do grow up.”

  Come fall, Mindy would be in fifth grade and Martha would be starting off to school. But Virginia noted that her grandfather had not seen Mindy for a while. It would not be surprising if he were having difficulty keeping all the children sorted out. She dismissed the comment as natural enough in the circumstances.

  CHAPTER 14