A Quiet Strength (21 page)

“He’s used to little ones, being the oldest of five.”

“And it was so nice of him to offer to sleep in the loft.”

Jonathan laughed softly. “Well, it wasn’t exactly niceness—I can tell you that right now. He was aching for a chance to move in with those horses. No, sir, that was no hardship for the boy.”

“Well, it was nice of him all the same,” insisted Virginia.

“I’m so glad Mother came,” said Jonathan in a more serious tone. “I don’t think Grandmother is doing all that well. Mother never would forgive herself if anything happened before she could see her again.”

His whispered words struck fear to Virginia’s heart. Surely Jonathan did not think that … that Grandmother Withers was in danger. True, she did not seem to be gaining strength. But there had been some improvement, and as the weeks passed there would be more … wouldn’t there?

“You don’t think she’s getting better?” asked Virginia, her voice tight.

Jonathan’s arms pulled her closer. “She’s much better than she was,” he said carefully. “With all your good nursing … she’s much better.”

“But …?” prompted Virginia.

“Luke says she has a poor heart. There’s nothing he can do about it. We just have to keep her with us. Let her enjoy the children. Try to keep her out of drafts so she doesn’t catch another of those vicious colds. And pray for the best for her. That’s about all we can do.”

Virginia was silent for a long time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she finally ventured.

He was slow to answer. “I guess I … didn’t figure there was anything to be gained by it. I knew you’d worry. And maybe … maybe I thought if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away. I dunno. Guess I’ve been hoping Luke was wrong.”

“But you don’t think he is?”

“No. No, I guess not. Not anymore. Last time he checked, he said she’s getting worse.”

Virginia had no words. Thoughts and feeling and fears swirled around inside her. She couldn’t bear to think of life without Grandmother Withers.

“Does your mother know?” she heard her own trembling voice asking.

“It’s not the kind of thing I could write in a letter.”

“Are you going to tell her now?”

She heard him swallow. Once. Twice. “I guess I’ll have to.”

Virginia laid her head against his chest and tried to think clearly. To absorb what she had just heard. Surely it wasn’t true. Surely not. How could she ever get along without Grand? mother? What would the loss do to the children? To Mindy especially? Who would read them stories, kiss bumps and bruises all better? Sing them silly songs that made them giggle? It was too much. She would simply refuse to think about it.

But even as she fought to push the knowledge to the back of her mind, the reality of what they might be facing over? whelmed her. Hot tears washed down her cheeks and damp? ened Jonathan’s nightshirt even as she felt his arms tightening about her.

CHAPTER  21

O
n a summer’s day promising to smother them with stifling heat, a grim-faced Mr. Woods climbed from the motorcar in their driveway. Virginia met him at the door. The expression on his face made Virginia think this was no casual neighborly call or grandfatherly visit. She did not ask his mission but waited anxiously for him to explain. With all her heart she hoped it was not bad news about Jenny.

“Jenny called” were his first words, and Virginia released the breath she had been holding. At least Jenny was alive.

“Hayden has been killed in a motor accident.”

Virginia’s hand went to her throat.

“She wondered if you could come.”

Virginia’s head was spinning. How could she go to Jenny? She was a wife and mother. She had an ailing grandmother in her home who needed her care. She had houseguests.

“I’m going down on the afternoon train. I’d be glad to have you travel with me.”

Still Virginia had not spoken. She finally nodded dumbly and managed, “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded in return.

“I’ll be at the station,” he said. “If you can’t make it, I understand. Jenny just wanted me to ask, and I … I didn’t want to let her down.”

She nodded again, and he turned and went back to his car.

The adults of the household were soon gathered to discuss the news.

“Do you want to go?” asked Jonathan, who had come in from the barn when he saw the car.

Virginia shook her head, then changed to a nod. “I don’t know,” she said, brushing back strands of hair with an agitated hand. “I … I’d rather do just about anything else … but she sent for me. I’ve been trying all these years to … to get through to her. Is this the time? I don’t know. But how …?” She didn’t finish the thought.

“I think you should go,” said Damaris softly. “I know it won’t be easy, but you seem to be her only link with anything solid and true. Anything good. It sounds like she needs you now.”

“But the children. Grandmother. I …”

“I can look after things here. I’m sure Jonathan can help me learn what to do and where things are.”

Jonathan doesn’t know where things are, either
, Virginia could have said but didn’t.

“I think you should go, too,” Jonathan said quickly. “I might not be much help here, but Grandmother can advise. She knows how you’ve run the house and cared for the girls. Between us, we’ll manage.”

Virginia packed a small bag, kissed her little ones a tearful good-bye, and was driven to town by Jonathan to catch the late-afternoon train. “I’ll be praying for you … and for Jenny,” he whispered into her ear as he hugged her at the depot.

It was a long and silent journey. Neither she nor Mr. Woods were much inclined to talk. Virginia wondered if he was dreading the coming meeting with Jenny as much as she was.

When they arrived in the city, they made their way through the train station and down the wide front steps. Mr. Woods hailed a cab and handed the driver the slip of paper on which he’d written the address Jenny had given him.

They wound their way in and out of traffic and through the strange streets. Virginia thought about her previous visit to the city and wondered if Pastor Black still shepherded the little congregation. He and his mother had been very good to her when she had been on another rescue effort for Jenny.

At last they arrived at a large building. They stared up at it while the driver insisted it was where they wanted to be. “The address says it’s up the steps. Third floor,” he said gruffly as he took the bills from Mr. Woods and handed back the address.

They went in together. The place smelled like meals from many yesterdays mixed with smoke-stale draperies and musty carpets. The elevator smelled even worse. They decided to take the stairs.

By the time she had climbed to the third floor, Virginia felt a little sick to her stomach. She didn’t know if it was nerves, dreading what lay ahead, hunger from not having eaten prop? erly, or nausea from all the odors they had encountered.

Mr. Woods found the door marked with a faint
307
and knocked. At first there was no response. He knocked again. More loudly. A voice from somewhere inside said, “Who is it?”

Mr. Woods responded, giving Virginia’s name as well as his own.

“Just a minute,” came the slurred voice again. There was a stirring about, a door chain being unhooked, and then the door opened. There was Jenny. It was all Virginia could do to keep from gasping.

Jenny, as Virginia had never seen her before. Jenny, clothed in a ragged robe, her hair entangled about a pale, ghostlike face, eyes red and swollen. Jenny, smelling of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

“You came,” Jenny rasped out, and her face crumpled. She threw herself in Virginia’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

Mr. Woods rescued Virginia’s small valise and managed somehow to maneuver them both inside so he could shut the door. It was some minutes before Jenny was in control enough to converse.

With a great many sobs and pauses, Jenny told them that Hayden and his new wife had been out with friends. Com? ing home in the early morning hours, the driver had missed a curve or fallen asleep. No one knew for sure. The car had lurched down an embankment. The new Mrs. Hayden had been thrown clear. She and another passenger were injured only slightly and had already been released from hospital. Another of Hayden’s friends had also been killed. The two had been pinned under the car when it rolled. The driver was in the hospital in serious condition.

By the time Jenny had choked out the details, it was late. The one-room apartment had only one bed. Mr. Woods said that he would take a hotel and be back in the morning. Vir? ginia envied him. She had the feeling she was in for a very long night.

After the door had closed upon her father, Jenny poured herself another drink. Virginia sat rigid in the room’s one chair. She had never been in such a situation before. The room, obviously the place Jenny called home, was dark and dirty and sparsely furnished with old, worn pieces. Jenny’s clothing, bottles, magazines, and old newspapers cluttered the room. The whole place smelled even worse than the stairway they had climbed.

Jenny looked up from the drink in her hand. “What’s the matter, Virginia?” she asked, her words slurred. “You surprised that the town’s alcoholic newsman has produced an alcoholic daughter?”

Virginia wanted to respond that the town newsman was an alcoholic no longer, but she held her tongue.

“I hope you didn’t come all this way to lecture me on making choices,” Jenny continued. “ ’Cause I’ve no mind to be listening to your little Sunday school talks on the goodness of God.”

Virginia shook her head. “I did not come to lecture you, Jenny. You know that.”

“Good.” Jenny burped, then giggled. It sounded silly and out of place under such circumstances. Virginia cringed, realizing that Jenny was indeed intoxicated.

Jenny flopped down onto an open space on the floor and crossed her legs in a most unladylike fashion, her dirty robe unable to cover her properly.

“I’ll bet you’re thinkin’, ‘Good riddance.’ “ Jenny swore. “‘He’s gone. Now maybe Jenny will stop chasing after someone she can’t have and clean up her life.’ Is that what you think, Virginia? Well, it won’t work. I like my life just fine. At least I used to.”

She took another gulp from the glass in her hand.

“Virginia, do you have any idea what it’s like to be the ‘ex’? No, of course you don’t. You’ve never been the ‘ex.’ Except for the ex-girlfriend of one sharp guy—Jamison whatever his name was. Well, I’ll tell you what it’s like to be the ‘ex.’ Ex-wife. Tomorrow the man I love is going to be buried. Tomorrow I won’t even be given a place to sit at the ceremony.” She inter? rupted herself, one hand raising her glass. “Do you call it a ceremony when you bury someone, or is that just weddings and baptisms and such? Anyway, they’ll be burying the one I love—have always loved. I’ll be there—you can count on it? but I won’t be welcomed. They’d lock me out if they could. They didn’t even have the decency to tell me he died. No—I had to read it in the papers. Read it. Right there. I wasn’t even mentioned in the obituary. Read it!” she demanded, pointing at one of the papers scattered on the floor. She began to sob again.

“Did anyone ask me where he should be buried?” she rasped out when she could go on. “What should be written on the gravestone? I don’t matter, you see. I’m just the ‘ex.’ It’s like I never lived. Never had his child. Like I don’t exist anymore. They wouldn’t even let me in to see his body. They locked me out.” Again she put a shaking hand to her face and sobbed wildly.

“Well, they won’t lock me out of that church. Paper says right there where he’s … where that service takes place. I’ll be there. Hayden would want me there. Sure, we had our differences … but he would want me there. That …” Jenny then used unspeakable language to describe Hayden’s widow. “She can’t keep me away. That’s
my
Hayden they’ll be burying.”

“Jenny, I think you should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day. You need your rest,” Virginia said gently.

“Sleep?” Jenny scoffed. “How can I sleep? This is the last night before Hayden is put in the ground. Tomorrow … he will be gone. Gone, Virginia. Don’t you understand? Gone. Forever. My Hayden.” Her words were becoming louder, more slurred.

Yes
, mourned Virginia.
I do understand. The helplessness, the hopelessness, of those who die without knowing God, without a Saviour. No wonder you weep, Jenny. No wonder you try to numb your pain with alcohol
.

Jenny swiped at clutter on the floor to clear herself a larger space. She lay down, spilling her drink on the already stained carpet. “Pour me another one, Virginia,” she said, lifting up her glass.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” said Virginia, rising from her chair. “If you have to have another one, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

Virginia crossed to the area that seemed to serve as Jenny’s kitchen. “Have you had anything to eat?”

For a moment Jenny looked puzzled. “I dunno,” she said at last. “I think so. I dunno.”

“You should eat.”

“Why don’t you fix me roast beef and mashed potatoes?” said Jenny, then broke into riotous laugher, rolling on the floor. Virginia had never seen such erratic behavior. One minute weeping uncontrollably, the next minute laughing hilariously. It was truly frightening.

“Tell you what, good neighbor,” Jenny went on. “If you find it, you can fix it.” She laughed again and scrambled unsteadily to her feet to retrieve her bottle.

Jenny was right. As Virginia sorted through the clutter, she found nothing fit to eat.

“I think you should get to bed,” she said again, but Jenny was bending over, holding on to her stomach.

“I feel a little sick. I think …” She headed for the corner of the room where an open door displayed a stained sink and toilet. But Jenny never made it that far. She was sick in the middle of the floor. Virginia found it difficult to keep from heaving herself.

She helped Jenny to the bed and found a pail and some rags by the sink. She could not do a thorough job of the cleanup, but at least there was some improvement. Some clutter on the floor had also been soiled. Virginia did not know how to clean it or what to do with it. She wished she could just bag it up and throw it out.

There was no way that she could get rid of the putrid odor. It hung in the room, saturating the very air she had to breathe. She went to the room’s one window in the hope of getting some fresh air, but it would not open.

By the time she turned around, Jenny was already in a deep sleep. Virginia looked about her, hot tears washing down her face.
Oh, Jenny
, her heart cried.
What has happened to you?
And Virginia wept for her childhood friend as she never had before.

Mr. Woods took them both out for breakfast, and then Virginia went back to the apartment to do a more thorough cleaning while father and daughter went off somewhere on their own. When they returned, Jenny was wearing a new black suit and her hair had been properly tamed and tucked under a matching hat. She looked a little more like the Jenny of old. How he had managed to keep Jenny from the bottle, Virginia never knew.