by Lilah Rivers
Ellen leaned across the table. “It’s all right if you feel sad about what happened, Jodi. Nobody at this table will hold you in a low regard.”
Jodi silently repeated, At this table? Because others not at this table may think otherwise? Her heart sank as her worst expectations seemed to be coming true, and after only a few days.
“Mother, Father, how could I be longing for good company when I have before me the two finest citizens in all of Rhode Island?” Her parents glanced at one another, but Jodi knew she hadn’t convinced either of them. “To be quite frank,” she continued, “I… I’m certain that Giles is heeding the proper call, the true call of the Lord.”
Once again, Jodi sensed that she wasn’t convincing either Martin or Ellen or even herself.“You know how I’ve always loved my cousin? Well, I’m glad for her that she’s found such a good man in Giles. I wish them both all the happiness in the world.”
Martin said, “And that’s quite… admirable of you, Daughter.”
After a moment of quiet, Ellen asked Jodi, “But… what of your happiness, dear?”
Jodi shrugged, trying to maintain her brave face as she took a bite of chicken. She thought of Amy, how casual and resistant she could be, how much strength her old friend seemed to garner from such a position.
“God will see to my happiness,” Jodi stated.
Martin sighed. “And your faith is as encouraging to us as your courage, Jodi. But… God does help those who help themselves.”
“Life is short, dear,” Ellen put in, “and the years do go by quickly.”
Jodi wasn’t surprised to hear it. She’d almost been expecting it as one of the few possibilities of what her parents may bring up. But she already knew what her answer would be. Still, as a matter of respect and of decorum, Jodi would have to let them continue.
Martin said, “Jodi, things of this sort, they’re borne of childhood expectation. But as we grow to be adults, we become familiar with the sad fact that these expectations are often disappointed. If this is your trail of passage, then so be it.”
“Precisely my view, Father.”
“But there are other things to consider,” he went on, “and principal among them are not childish notions, but… adult responsibilities.” Jodi waited in silence, ready to anticipate what was coming next. “We are told by the bible to go forth and procreate, are we not?” He looked at her and Jodi nodded, not wanting to put it into words. “And there are matters of business, of… protocol.”
“We only want for you to be happy,” Ellen intervened from the other side of the table.
“But being happy is one thing,” Martin clarified, “being blessed is something altogether different. To have a family, to carry on the name and traditions which raised you, to carry on the efforts of those who came before; these are more important than the whimsy of a child. Wouldn’t you say?”
Jodi felt the pressure of their scrutiny, and the little dinner table gave her no room to escape it. “I would never contradict you, Father.”
“Good,” he declared, “I’m glad to hear it. It’s time, then, that we discussed your future prospects.” Jodi didn’t answer, as she knew no answer would have interrupted her father at that point, nor likely any time in the future. “Have you any other suitors in mind?”
Jodi repeated, “Other prospects?”
“A husband, of course. Now, I know you’ve spent a year on this business, and most of the young men in town would know that, too; the interested ones, in any case.”
“Husband!”
Ignoring his wife, Martin persisted, “It’s a matter which cannot be ignored, my wife. The longer it goes on, the more difficult it will be to remedy.”
“Oh, Husband,” Ellen repeated sadly.
“I suffer from no malady,” Jodi told him, “no virus or disease.”
“We all know that,” Martin replied, “but others have different perceptions, and time is of the essence… age a factor.”
“Husband!”
“Stop correcting me, Wife!”
“Please,” Jodi barked out, “Mother, Father, stop arguing over me. Whatever my own… ill-ease, it oughtn’t bring you such discord. Surely that’s not what God would want or intend.” Her parents shared a wordless glance.
“I am your father,” Martin responded in a tone of voice that suggested he did not intend to be challenged. “I want this matter resolved with all possible dispatch.”
“What am I to do, marry the first gambler I meet on the street?”
“Daughter!”
“Mother!”
“Family! I won’t have this… this carnival at my dinner table.” An echoing silence followed Martin’s authoritative outburst. “I do not insist that you marry unhappily, Jodi. I love you, and for you to be happy is my greatest fondness and hope. But… if you allow yourself to miss this season, if you grow much older and then grow old alone, I assure you that you will not be happy. These are not the days of your childhood years, pretending with your friend to grow old as spinsters and making a game of it. This is your life, my daughter, not a game. If you make a mistake with it now, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. This is what I hope to avoid. This, as the older and more experienced person, I can see coming up ahead even if you cannot. Please, my child, whom I love above all, trust that I have seen such things come and go before. I have seen hearts broken, I have seen dreams dashed; so have we all. But I know, in my brain and in my heart, that in days long after I am dead and gone, you will thank me for this wisdom. You will come to understand my perspective now when you are in my years. I know how wrong you think I am, but you will see in later years the truth in what I’m telling you. You will have a man and children and you will know what it truly is to be blessed, just as I know what it was like to be blessed with a child such as you.”
But this comment only earned a saddened expression from Ellen.
“Not that I didn’t marry just whom I loved and just whom I wanted,” Martin added with a clearing of his throat. “But, in time, you may find what I was lucky enough to find quickly, and what you thought you had found with Giles.”
Jodi did not want to agree, but there was a kernel of truth to it. Something told her that God still had a path for her, that He was guiding her steps. But where they would take her, Jodi still couldn’t know. She had a feeling they were about to lead her far and wide, though she could also imagine her feet taking her to the household of some virtual stranger, to be little more than a domestic servant and breeder, a slave in the guise of a wife.
No, Jodi told herself, I won’t be that! Amy would never be that, and I won’t be, either!
But what Jodi was to become, she could not guess even as it was happening.
God, she thought, faith, surely the answer lays somewhere in those divine secrets. Is that what I’m here to learn, that my life was entirely misguided all this time?That I should have been pursuing a more righteous life?
Jodi could imagine herself in a nun’s habit, perhaps standing at the head of a classroom of children. Either would be a wholesome life, worthwhile, helpful to the community and honorable in the eyes of God. Those would be worthy lives, but something about the notions did not ring true in Jodi’s heart or her mind or her soul.
But the idea of simply marrying some other man, one she hardly knew, for the sake of something she still could hardly understand seemed even more hollow. I won’t marry simply because society expects me to, Jodi silently determined. Amy would never do such a thing, and neither will I. If I am meant to be alone then I shall be; if I am meant to love and be loved, then I shall be so! God will see to the broad strokes, and I shall be ready for whatever the details require.
Jodi’s true destiny lay ahead of her, though she could still not see it clearly. Surely God was creating something new, but she could not perceive it.
Chapter 5
Jodi was going about her chores, enjoying the warm spring sun over Rhode Island. Hanging the wet laundry on the line to dry, Jodi was
able to preoccupy herself and not have to think too much about life after Giles.
It hadn’t been easy.
People in town were looking at her askance; some sadly, with arching, furrowed brows, others shaking their heads or turning away. It was as if Giles leaving her for her cousin, Alice, was somehow Jodi’s fault. She had begun to wonder the same thing herself.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me, Jodi had started to ask herself while going about her sundries shopping and other chores in town. Did I fail Giles somehow? Did I betray Alice and force her to do this? Perhaps I’m just not lovable, that nobody will ever truly love me. Surely, some poor souls must go without. Not everybody goes about in a happy coupling, after all. Maybe God simply intends for me to be one of those solemn spinsters, a lone soul in a world of conjoined soulmates.
And she’d stayed out of town for other good reasons, too; namely Giles and Alice themselves. Jodi knew that every trip into town held a risk of bumping into them, something Jodi dreaded. She hadn’t even spoken to Alice in the weeks since Giles broke the news. Alice hadn't approached her, and Jodi certainly didn’t want to approach Alice, lest she be taken for aggressive or angry. She didn't want to approach her in prostration either, of course, as if it really had been Jodi’s own fault.
Jodi’s conscience had told her to go to her cousin and wish her well with Giles, to tell her that their family bond would always be strong. But when it first happened, the pain had been too great. Jodi had retired to the safety of the home, then only went out with the greatest of both need and courage.
As the weeks went on, it just became easier to ignore the whole matter, to let that sleeping dog lie. If and when I see her, Jodi told herself, I’ll tell her then. But with no word from Alice, and an increasing disinterest in seeing her cousin, Jodi couldn't be sure when or if that would ever happen.
When an envelope arrived with her name and address written in a familiar hand, Jodi couldn’t help but smile. But then she recalled the bad news she’d shared with Amy in her last letter, the generally somber tone. Jodi opened the letter, not looking forward to her best friend’s pity, even if Jodi knew her words would be comforting.
My dearest friend, Jodi,
My heart aches to read your last letter. And I am shocked at the turn of events! I know you and your cousin were never very close, but even so! And Giles had seemed like such a good man, so worthy. Well, it only goes to demonstrate that the secrets of a person’s heart are not always what they seem… lest they not be secrets at all!
I know you spoke words of courage and faith, and that gratifies me. But I also know that you must surely be in pain. I can only hope that your selfsame courage and faith has brought you some solace in the weeks since you felt to write me that sad communique.
Perhaps some good news for me will raise your spirits, I hope so! For it is very good news, indeed. Not only is my marriage to Clinton strong and satisfying for us both, but I have just discovered that we are in the family way! I expect my child to be born in this November. Clinton and I are both so excited, though we know it won’t be easy.
Clinton and I agree, in fact, that you would be a wonderful addition to our household during this time. We have plenty of room, and I would so appreciate your company. The midwife thinks I may not have an easy time of it, it would seem.
We hope you’ll accept our invitation and come out with the greatest dispatch. I am so anxious to see you again, my lovely friend. Please give my love to your admirable parents and let us know by wire if you can and wish to come to New Mexico, and when we can expect you. If you need any assistance with the arrangements, we will take care of them.
Yours in Christ,
Amy.
*
“Please, Father! I want very much to go!” Jodi sat on the loveseat in her father's study. Ellen sat next to her, holding her daughter’s hands.
But Martin paced around the little study, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t doubt it, Daughter. But… alone on a train, all the way to New Mexico?”
“It’s not dangerous,” Jodi argued, “not terribly so.”
Martin glared at her. “These trains are being robbed, Jodi!”
Ellen said, “It’s very rare, Husband. And even more rare for any civilians to be hurt.” Martin stared at his wife as if struck dumb, unable to ask why she’d be so interested in sending their daughter more than halfway across the country. “Her friend needs help, Martin.”
“I’m sure she’s got a midwife,” Martin pointed out with his usual distaste. “What the girl needs is a proper physician. And you should know better than anyone that a physician’s daughter is no reasonable substitute!”
“Of course not, Father. And as far as I know, she has a midwife, who says she may have a hard pregnancy. I want to be able to help her, if I can.”
“Then send her my professional recommendation and be done with it. That’s the best service you can do for her, to stay out of it.”
Ellen shook her head. “Oh, Husband.”
“Do not Oh, Husband me! What’s this child going to do for her pregnant friend? And what are you going to do for her?”
Jodi ventured, “Whatever I can, of course.”
A long, thoughtful silence passed, but Martin’s expression didn’t seem to be softening. Ellen’s hands tightened around Jodi’s. “I do not doubt that you wish to help your friend,” Martin said with a deliberately calm tone. “I know how long you two have known each other, how much you mean to one another. However, I hope you will admit that there is more to your desire to go to New Mexico, things which have nothing to do with your friend’s condition.”
Jodi knew he was right, and she wasn’t about to lie to her father about that. But before she could say anything, her mother was quick to speak in her defense.
“Things have become difficult for her here, Husband. Her friends, Giles and Alice—this isn’t the place for her, not at the moment.”
Martin stopped pacing and turned to his wife. “But here you reveal the entire weakness of your position, my wife. Do we want the child to run from her every difficulty? Is that what manner of a family we are? Or do we face our problems head-on?”
Ellen asked him, “What can she do? There’s no solution to the matter of Giles and Alice. And to linger here, in the shadow of that cruelty, it’s… it’s not reasonable, Martin.”
“Reasonable? I’ve never been less than reasonable, Ellen. In fact, I am the one being practical.”
Jodi interjected, “I am twenty-three years old, Father. I’m not a child. There’s a matter of personal freedom, as well.”
“That’s true,” Martin conceded. “But you are also a ward in my care, a resident of my home, and you bear my name!”
“Husband!”
“It’s no matter of… of propriety,” Martin continued, softening his tone. “I love you, Jodi, it is my job, my duty, and my desire to prevent harm from coming to you, whatever your age!”
“But the harm to our daughter comes from this place,” Ellen argued, “things that happened here, things that go on happening here.”
“Then perhaps this is where God wishes her to be!”
A long, thoughtful pause filled the study, Martin sighing and once again rubbing the back of his neck. “I do not wish for you to be unhappy, Jodi.”
Jodi’s heart sank to hear such a thing. “Yes, Father, and I do not wish to disrespect you.” Jodi thought about Amy, how strong-willed she could be, stubborn. But Jodi was never that kind of person, and this was not the time or place to experiment with new ways of communicating—especially not with Martin Hoffman.