by Janette Oke
Virginia listened to the blowing wind outside, glad for the warmth of the home Jonathan had provided. She was placing cream in her butter crock, setting it out for the next day’s churning, the last task of the day. She would prepare hot cider for Jonathan and Slate, who discussed farm business in front of the large living room fireplace. She could then stretch out her feet toward the blaze and take up her knitting while the sound of their voices filled her with a sense of peace.
But she had not poured the last of the cream before a quite different sound caught her attention. Lights reflected off the side of the chicken house, then swung in an arc toward the porch. A car had come down the lane and was pulling to a stop near the back gate.
Virginia frowned. Who on earth? And at this time of night. Her eyes glanced at the clock—almost a quarter to ten. No neighbors—or family—came calling at such a time. Unless of course, something was wrong.
Virginia felt fear clutch her heart. “Jonathan—someone’s here.”
Jonathan quickly joined her, peering out the window into the darkness. Steps sounded hurriedly across the porch boards, and Jonathan moved to open the door before the caller had a chance to knock.
Mr. Woods stood on the threshold. Virginia could tell by his face that the man was distraught. Jenny, her heart whispered and her hand went to her throat.
“Come in,” nodded Jonathan. “I take it … you’ve heard something.”
For an answer the man held out a single-page letter. “This came. In today’s post. I just now found the time to go through my mail.”
Jonathan turned the letter toward the light, and Virginia stood beside him to read over his shoulder.
Dear Grandpa Woods,
Mama is very sick and I don’t know what to do. Can you come?
Respectfully,
Mindy
Virginia’s eyes lifted from the page. It was the first anyone had heard from the child. Strange—the mixture of childish concern and careful formality. Under different circumstances Virginia might have smiled. All she could think of now was that Jenny was very ill. Mindy was alone with her. The poor child. The poor little child.
“You’re going,” she heard Jonathan saying to Mr. Woods. It was hardly a question.
“There was no return address,” the man said and his voice sounded hollow. Worried.
“Isn’t there some way to—?”
“I’ll have to find some way. I can’t just … ” His voice drifted to a stop.
Slate had joined them. He stood back, his face concerned, listening to what was being said.
“How about the police?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe the hospital staff if she’s been under treatment.”
“I don’t know,” he said again. “But I’ll find her. Some way. I just hope I’m not too late. I … I thought you’d want to know,” he said as Jonathan returned the letter.
“Of course,” said Jonathan, running a hand through his hair. “Of course.”
Virginia became aware of tears running freely down her cheeks. She fumbled for a handkerchief. “Is there anything we can do?” she heard Jonathan asking.
“Pray. Please pray. That I find her in time to … to say a proper good-bye.” He looked so anguished. So suddenly old that Virginia’s tears increased.
“We’ll pray. You’re leaving on tomorrow’s train?”
“I’m on my way now. I’m driving. I … I just can’t sit around and wait for tomorrow.”
“You’re driving through the night?” Jonathan sounded shocked. He looked out the window. The wind still howled around every corner of the house, shaking with an angry violence anything that it touched.
The man just nodded and folded the letter, putting it in his pocket.
“Would you like another driver?” Jonathan offered. But Mr. Woods shook his head.
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. But I appreciate it.”
“We’ll pray for your safety,” Jonathan added.
The man was turning to go when Virginia stepped forward. “Please—please,” she begged. “Keep us informed. And give Mindy hugs from us.”
“I will,” he promised and then he was gone.
“I’m sure Jenny is not allowing Mindy to write to us,” Jona? than said to the question in Virginia’s eyes after Mr. Woods left. “She probably said, ‘I’m going to write to Grandpa Woods,’ and Jenny must have let her.”
“And she forgot about putting a return address on the envelope,” Virginia added, thinking about the preaddressed envelopes Mindy had not been allowed to use. “Oh, Mindy,” she wept. “Our poor little girl. … ”
They held each other a long time.
It was two days before they heard anything. Two long, anguishing days. “I found them” were his first words when the phone call came. “It took me some time and I went down countless blind alleys—but I found them.”
“How is she?” Virginia asked, feeling both relieved and apprehensive.
His voice sobered. “Mindy was right. She is very ill.”
“How is Mindy?”
“She’s a real little soldier. Don’t know how she has man? aged for so long. Do you know she has been taking care of her mother for weeks? Jenny has been confined to her bed for almost two months.”
Virginia wanted to weep. Mindy was only a child. It wasn’t fair. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Finally she asked hopefully, “Have her prayers been answered?” She did not have to explain her question to Mr. Woods.
“No … ” he said soberly. “But Jenny is much, much more open, more mellow. I think she was even glad to see me. Relieved. She did not fight against me—at all. Made no resistance when I insisted we get her to the hospital. I think she knows … ” He stopped, then started again. “I think she knows it is near the end. She … she couldn’t not know. She’s so weak. So frail.”
“She’s in the hospital now?”
“She is.”
“And Mindy?”
“She’s here. She’d like to talk to you. Is that all right?”
“Oh, yes.” Virginia could hardly believe it. She prayed inwardly that she would be able to do more than weep over the phone.
Soon Mindy was on the line. “Hello, Mama.”
It was almost too much for Virginia. She fought for con? trol.
“Hello,” said Mindy again. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” she finally was able to say.
“How are you?” asked Mindy, sounding very grown-up and concerned.
“We’re … we’re all … just fine. How are you, dear?” Virginia took a deep breath and began to get hold of her? self.
“I’m fine. Mama isn’t, though. She’s very sick.”
“I know. Your grandpa told me. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think she’s going to get better.”
“We’ll pray.”
“Mama … she still hasn’t asked Jesus to forgive her.” The child sounded very sad. “But … but last night she said … she said she wished she knew how. She wished she hadn’t been so stubborn. She said that. Does that count?”
“Yes, I think … I think that it’s a … a very good sign,” answered Virginia. “Perhaps she is … thinking seriously. We need to keep praying—”
“Mama,” Mindy stopped her. “There isn’t much time to pray for her any longer.”
It was all Virginia could do to finish the conversation. She assured the young girl that they were thinking of her. Had been praying for her. Loved her very much. She heard Mindy’s tearful good-bye. She wanted to go to her room and cry. Or pray. Or both.
Mr. Woods came back on the line after Mindy had said her good-bye. “I’ve been in touch with Reverend Black,” he said. “He promised to go over to see Jenny. He’s not even going to wait for morning—he said the hospital will let him in tonight.”
Virginia was greatly relieved. Please, God, she prayed, even as she continued to speak to Mr. Woods. Give the pastor the right words. May your Holy Sp
irit take those words and make them believable for Jenny. Open her eyes to truth, Lord. To you.
“I’ll call you,” said Mr. Woods. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Yes. Please. Please. We will be so anxious to hear.”
The phone clicked. Virginia stood a long time holding the receiver against her heart.
Virginia jumped whenever the phone rang. One call was from her mother, asking if there had been any news. Then Clara called to let her know they were praying. Then her grand? mother.
The familiar voice and her years of experience, of faith in God during incredible sorrows and loss, made her words of encouragement particularly meaningful to Virginia.
“Oh, Grandma … ” Virginia’s voice broke. “I hardly know what to pray anymore. … ”
“God doesn’t ask fer us to know the right words, honey,” Marty said. “He only asks fer us to trust Him. And He knows even that isn’t easy all the time—when we can only see jest what’s around us.”
It was late afternoon before the call came that she had been expecting and dreading. Even so, Virginia felt the shock of its finality. “Jenny’s gone,” Mr. Woods said simply.
“It seems … it seems so soon,” Virginia murmured.
“Yes … we didn’t have much time.” There was a pause. “Here,” he said, “Mindy wants to talk to you.”
“Mama … ” Mindy was weeping and Virginia had to strain to make out her words. “Mama … she did it. Mama Jenny asked Jesus to forgive her.”
Virginia felt her knees go weak. “Honey—that’s wonderful news,” she was able to say. “I’m so glad.” But Mindy was crying so hard that her grandfather had to take the receiver again.
“She did,” he assured Virginia, though his voice was unsteady. “Pastor Black went through the Scriptures with her, and she made her peace with God. She … she even called me in and … and asked my forgiveness. Imagine that. She asked my forgiveness. I’m the one who needed to ask for hers.”
He was so broken he could hardly speak.
“It’s not been an easy life for my Jenny,” he eventually said, “but she’s at peace at last.”
So many emotions washed over Virginia. She was so happy. But she was very sad. She rejoiced, even as she sorrowed. If only … if only, her thoughts kept repeating. If only she had done it years ago—had saved herself … and others … all of the years of pain. If only she had taken a different road. Her friend Jenny with the bright red hair, the flashing green eyes, the quick wit and even quicker temper. Virginia had loved her. Had been exasperated with her. Had quarreled … had made up … had worried and admired and wished to shake her by the shoulders. Oh, if only … if only she had been able to say good-bye.
Mr. Woods was speaking again. “She wrote you a letter. At the last. She had to dictate it … but she wanted so much to let you know … how she felt. She struggled … with her last breath … to get it said. Then she … she had me take her hand and … and help her sign it. She was too weak … ” He couldn’t go on.
Virginia sank down onto a chair near the telephone, openly weeping.
A new voice came on the phone. Virginia recognized it immediately. “This is Pastor Black. How are you, Miss Simpson? No, it isn’t Miss Simpson anymore, is it? Forgive me.”
“First of all, I am so sorry I was unable to locate Mindy and her mother sooner—”
“Oh,” Virginia quickly responded, “we are awfully grateful that you tried.”
“Mr. Woods has asked me to give you some information. He will be bringing Jenny back to be buried near your little church. The funeral arrangements haven’t been made as yet with your pastor but will be announced as soon as things are settled. Mindy will be traveling with him, of course. She is quite a girl, your Mindy. You must be proud.
“Jenny had some last requests. She would like you to let your mutual friend Jamison know that she accepted the Lord’s forgiveness before her death.”
Virginia was surprised. “Jamison?”
She had not kept close touch with Jamison and his Rachel over the past few years. He was no longer playing professional football. After four good seasons he had hurt his knee and turned to his other profession. He and Rachel had settled down in a small town in the Midwest and were busy raising a growing family and serving in a local church. She assumed the address she had would still reach him.
“Of course,” she heard herself saying to Pastor Black. “I will be … glad to inform him.”
“She also had a message … for your mother.”
Virginia waited.
“She said your mother was the only mother she ever knew. And she envied you … dreadfully. But she wants your mother to know that, in her own way, she loved and respected her, and she was always grateful for her concern and—I believe she said—her therapy.”
“Yes,” said Virginia, “she likely did.”
There was a brief pause.
“And how have you been keeping?” asked the minister.
“We are … doing well,” Virginia said, not quite sure how to answer under the circumstances.
“And your family?”
“We are all fine. Jonathan—my husband—is very busy. And I’m pretty busy also with four—well, three of our own—we always count Mindy.”
“This all must have been very hard for you.”
“Yes … yes, it is. Very hard.”
“She’s a wonderful little girl.”
“And … you?” asked Virginia, now feeling more calm and able to talk. “Are you still at the little community church?” she asked.
“Well … it’s not so little anymore. It’s done a good deal of growing since you were here. We’ve had to build.”
“That’s wonderful. And your mother?”
“She is still keeping well. We were to see her this past summer. Very happy.”
“ That’s good news.” She had noticed that he had said “we.” “You … you have a family?”
“Yes. Yes … I married one of the young ladies from the congregation. Elsie Blakewell. You likely don’t remember her, being here just the one Sunday. A wonderful woman. We have two little ones—with a third due next month.”
“Congratulations to you both. That’s nice. We are expecting another, as well.”
“Wonderful. Those little ones really give life meaning, don’t they?”
“Yes, they really do.”
They said their good-byes, and Virginia hung up the receiver. She felt much better after chatting with Pastor Black—and then she realized that was likely what the last part of the conversation was all about. After he had relayed the emotional messages, he knew her thoughts would need to be redirected. Had to be focused beyond the tragedy to more pleasant things—like family. She had the impression that Jonathan would approve of Pastor Black. It was a shame they hadn’t had an opportunity to meet one another.
But as she turned back to the cupboard to continue the supper preparations, her one thought was Mindy. What was going to happen to Mindy now?
“I’ve been wondering,” said Jonathan after they had retired, “what steps one takes to apply for guardianship.”
“I’ve wondered the same.”
“I don’t know if it’s another lengthy business with court hearings and all, or what. I suppose the best place to start is to talk with your father.”
“Yes, he would know something about it—at least could get us started.”
Silence.
“If … it does take that … what are your feelings on it?” Jonathan wondered.
Virginia stirred. “I’ve been hoping we could get that loan paid off.” She shifted again. “But I can’t imagine the future now without Mindy.”
“You mean … go to the courts again?”
“Right.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.” More silence.
“Do you think our girl has changed?” Virginia could not help but ask.
“I suppose she has. I don’t see how a child could go through what s
he’s just been through and not change.”
Virginia knew in her heart that he was right, but she did hope their Mindy had not changed too much.
The funeral service was held on a Wednesday afternoon at their church in town, the one Jenny had attended as a young girl. Virginia was surprised at the number in attendance—but she should not have been. There were many folks in the town who had known Jenny during her school years, and Mr. Woods was considered an important member of the community and his newspaper a significant asset to the town. What surprised her most was to see Jamison there, seated with his family. She had gotten his phone number from his parents and had phoned him to let him know as Jenny had requested, but she had not expected him to make the long trip back for Jenny’s funeral.
Mindy walked in with her grandfather Woods and was led directly to the front pew where she sat silently. She looked pale and much slimmer than she had been. Taller too. With a lump in her throat, Virginia felt she was looking at a different child. She started to rise from her seat to go to the girl, to hold her close, but the organist began to play. The service was about to begin.
Mr. Woods put his arm around Mindy’s shoulders, and Virginia sank back into the pew. She would wait, though it was so hard. Their minister shared some of his memories of Jenny—the auburn-haired, free-spirited schoolgirl. His description was so vivid Virginia could once again see her friend flashing those green eyes, tossing her red hair, jutting out her stubborn chin. Then the pastor went on to tell the congregation about Jenny’s last days and of her turning to God before her death. A hush fell over the gathering. Several reached for handkerchiefs to wipe wet eyes. In great rejoicing, they lifted their voices at the close of the service to sing “The Old Rugged Cross.” Then the group quietly filed from the church to follow the casket to the cemetery next to the building.
Virginia was not aware that Jamison was beside her until she heard him whisper, “Well, Virginia, you did it. She finally made the right choice.”
“I didn’t do it. I never did seem to be able to make her understand. No … it wasn’t me. I think Mindy had a great deal to do with it. She taught her what love was all about. But it was Pastor Black who helped her to understand and believe the Scriptures. To realize that God loved her.”