A Searching Heart (19 page)

She rode to the church with Pastor Black and his mother. It was not a large congregation that gathered—rather the size of Virginia's own group back home. But they were friendly as they welcomed her to the morning service, though Virginia did notice many curious eyes.

“We wish to welcome Miss Simpson, who is with us this morning,” the minister said from the pulpit by way of introduction, “though we deeply regret the circumstances for her visiting our city at this time. It was one of Miss Simpson's close friends who was involved in the motor accident of university students this past week. I want to urge you to remember Jenny Woods and her father, who is also here in our city, in your prayers throughout the week. I'm sure Miss Simpson would appreciate your prayers, as well.” He went on to other announcements. Virginia could feel many eyes upon her with new warmth, a new understanding in their faces.

Virginia soon put aside her concerns a few minutes into the sermon. Pastor Black's sermon for the morning was taken from a psalm. Virginia had not caught the reference when it had been given, but he had not spoken many sentences until her attention was completely captured. “We often feel we are all alone when going through adversity,” he reminded the audience. “We are not. God has promised to be there with us. He does not make promises lightly, nor does He disregard them once they have been made.

“How do you think Joseph felt, trudging through the heat of the desert, his colorful coat gone, his hands tied, feet shackled, as he was forced to accompany the Midianites who had purchased him from his evil brothers?

“How do you think Daniel felt as rough hands picked him up and suspended him momentarily over the mouth of the pit, from which came the muffled roar of hungry lions?

“Or the three young Israelite men as brutish soldiers forced their hands to their sides and bound them securely, a wall of angry flames awaiting them only a few feet away?

“What about Paul the apostle? Ridiculed and beaten. Driven from town to town or chained in dank, rat-infested dungeons? Did he—did they—remind themselves of God's sure promises? Or did they simply give up and give in?”

Of course they didn't,
Virginia's own heart responded, and in the moments ahead the pastor took them through the pages of Scripture to remind them of how each of the individuals had responded to their plight.

Virginia felt strengthened and encouraged as she followed Mrs. Black from the pew. She wished that Jenny's father had been able—and willing—to hear the Sunday sermon.

———

The following days seemed to blend into one long tiring routine. Much to Virginia's surprise, Jenny's father stayed sober. Virginia often smelled liquor on his breath and knew that he had been imbibing, but he did not seem to overindulge to the point of losing control.

Each day Pastor Black and Virginia stopped at the hotel to pick up Mr. Woods, then proceeded to the hospital. Knowing that the pastor's days were filled with his own responsibilities, Virginia had insisted that he drop them off and call for them later. After a short argument he agreed.

It seemed to Virginia that nearly as much of their day was spent pacing the hall, or walking city streets to find a small diner, as it was sitting beside the unconscious Jenny. Each time they returned to the stark hospital room, they pleaded with Jenny to open her eyes, but there seemed to be nothing they could do to coax a response from the critically injured girl.

On the third day Virginia borrowed a copy of
The Pilgrim's Progress
from Mrs. Black and began to read aloud as they sat by Jenny's bed. She read for an hour in the morning and another hour in the afternoon, hoping that the sound of her voice would assure Jenny, even in her unconscious state, that she was not alone.

She watched for the flicker of an eyelid or the twitch of a hand, but she saw nothing. Jenny seemed totally unaware of their presence. And certainly the waning form was not listening to the tale of Pilgrim's journey. Still Virginia continued to read. She was on the fifth chapter before she noticed that Mr. Woods was listening. It both surprised and pleased her. From then on she read the story with clearer enunciation and a prayerful new purpose.

———

The week was drawing to a close with no visible change in Jenny's condition. Virginia was troubled and anxious. In two short days her return ticket required that she board the train for home. She had been given one week away from the post office. She did not think she could ask her new employer for more.

On their way to a nearby diner that had quickly become their favorite place for a sandwich, Virginia brought up the subject with Mr. Woods. “My ticket is for Saturday's train.”

At first she thought he had not heard her, then she saw his nod.

“I would like to stay longer, but I really think I need to get back to work,” she continued. Again a brief nod of acknowledgment.

“I feel so indebted to the Blacks. They have been very kind. I don't know how I would have managed without them. And he so busy with his church duties and all.”

Virginia felt, more than saw, the man's head swivel to stare at her.

“What did you say?” he asked bluntly.

Virginia groped to remember what he might have missed. “They've been so kind,” she ventured.

“No—that other.”

“He's so busy?”

“With . . . ?” prompted Mr. Woods.

“His church,” said Virginia simply.

“His church?”

Virginia looked at Mr. Woods. His jaw was working as though he were chewing through something tough and unpalatable.

He suddenly seemed to understand but still demanded verification. “Your young man's a preacher?”

Virginia felt her face going pale. “You didn't know?” Her step faltered.

“How was I to know? No one told me.” He sounded angry as he stormed ahead toward their destination.

They entered the doors of the diner and selected their usual table. Virginia noted that the man still looked sullen. She heard him curse beneath his breath and say something about being tricked and that he shouldn't have been such a complete fool.

It was too much for Virginia. She put her menu down on the table and slowly rose to her feet.

“Mr. Woods,” she began, looking directly into his reddened eyes. “I have no idea what is troubling you or why the fact that Mr. Black is a minister should upset you, but the Blacks have been nothing but kind. Without Pastor Black you could very well still be waiting to see your daughter.

“If you can't appreciate the goodness of folks like him at a time like this, then I don't think I wish to remain in your company.”

Virginia picked up her handbag. “And he's not my young man,” she announced further. “I hadn't even met him until I arrived here.” With the final words she fled the diner.

She had taken only a few steps, her eyes flowing with unbidden tears, when deep remorse overtook her. What in the world had she done now? She had longed to help the man. To see Jenny's father come to know God as his own Savior and friend. And now, in a moment of undisciplined rebuttal, she had completely destroyed that hope. Completely. She was so ashamed.

How am I ever to explain this to the Blacks?
she mourned as she drew out her handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face.

Virginia desperately longed to be back in her own home— in her own room—where she could throw herself on her own bed and weep. Instead, she resolutely turned her footsteps back toward the hospital. She had only a short time to be with Jenny. She had to make it count. She could do without a sandwich. She would go back to the hospital room and read another chapter—or more—to her friend.

———

“Have I missed much?”

The voice made Virginia jump. She had not heard anyone enter the room. Mr. Woods stood there, dangling the black hat from one hand to the other. Virginia's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Here,” he said a bit roughly. “Brought you a sandwich.”

Now Virginia felt truly chastised. “I'm . . . I'm so sorry,” she stammered. “Really, I'm sorry. I had no right . . .”

But he gruffly shoved the sandwich into her hands. It was clear to Virginia that he was awkward about apologies. It was also clear that he had no intention of pursuing the subject further. He turned their thoughts to the girl on the bed with, “Has she stirred?”

Virginia guessed that he knew the answer. She accepted it as simply a diversion and took up the conversation. “No. She still hasn't stirred.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” the man said as he pulled another chair up beside Virginia's. “Maybe tomorrow.”

They were silent while Virginia ate the sandwich, then rolled up its wrapper to discard in the nearby wastebasket.
Now what?
she wondered.

Mr. Woods leaned over and picked up the book she had been reading. “Do you mind rereading the part I missed?”

Virginia did not mind.

———

Virginia's good-bye to Jenny was one of the most difficult she had ever said. As she walked away for the last time before catching her train, she wasn't sure if she would ever see her friend again. And if she did—if Jenny survived this awful accident—what would her condition be? Would she be able once again to take up where she had left off—or would Jenny's life be meaningless?

“I'll see you, Jenny,” Virginia had told the still form through tears. “I will be praying for you every day.” She corrected her comment. “Several times a day. Promise.”

Mr. Woods, who had stood quietly by while Virginia said her good-byes, made no comment, but as Virginia turned to him he looked wretchedly uncomfortable.

“I . . . I hope there is improvement soon,” she managed.

He nodded.

“You'll let me know if there's a change?”

He nodded again.

“I must go. Pastor Black is waiting to drive me to the train.”

Jenny's father looked down at The Pilgrim's Progress he held in his hand. He had asked the Blacks if he could keep it long enough to complete the story for Jenny. Now it would be he who read the chapters morning and afternoon.

“Guess I'm somewhere in that dungeon right now,” he muttered.

Virginia frowned. Pilgrim had already moved from the Dungeon of Despair. “No,” she explained, “I've marked the page. We're—”

“Not Pilgrim. Me.”

Virginia's heart constricted as she understood his admission. “You can move on, too, Mr. Woods,” she said softly. “Honest.”

He looked at her with such complete misery in his face that Virginia nearly reached out to give him a hug. But she wasn't sure how the man would respond. Instead she said, “Pastor Black will be available, I know. He'd be happy if you'd call him for anything.”

The big man just nodded again. Virginia was relieved to hear no mumbled profanity. She turned and walked from the room without looking back.

———

Even though the train trip home seemed to take forever, Virginia was sure she would never be able to eat all the lunch Mrs. Black had packed for her.

They have been so kind—the Blacks,
Virginia thought silently as she stared at the passing landscape. She could hardly wait to tell her folks about them. Certainly her father had chosen wisely. Or had it really been God who had done the choosing? Virginia thought maybe they had worked together on it.

Virginia kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs. She had hated to leave Jenny, but she would be so glad to get home. At the same time she knew she would be plied with questions, not just from her family but from town folks. She wondered how many times in the next days she would need to stop her mail sorting to answer another well-meant inquiry.

Well, she had very little to tell. At least very little that was good news. Jenny's condition had not seemed to change, in spite of the many prayers offered on her behalf.

Virginia felt very tired. Visiting with Jenny throughout the long week had been harder work than nursing Clara. At least with Clara there had been the hope that one day the situation would change. But would it ever change for Jenny? And if it did, would it be for the better? Jenny was not ready for eternity.

———

“They were so helpful. They did everything possible for me—and for Mr. Woods. Mrs. Black invited him for tea or supper several times, and Pastor Black drove us back and forth to the hospital each day. I felt so . . . so guilty, knowing how busy he already was.”

They were sitting around the kitchen table, Virginia sharing with her family her experiences. Already she had told them that Jenny was still in her unconscious state. Now she filled in some of the details about her trip to Almsburg.

“I must write the Blacks a note,” her mother responded.

“Perhaps we could make a contribution to their church,” her father added.

“It's a small church—for the city,” Virginia told them. “About the size of ours. But I'm sure it will grow quickly. He has only been there for a short time. But he loves the people— you can tell. And they love him. He's a good preacher, too. I felt challenged and encouraged after his message on Sunday.”

“What's his wife like?” asked Francine.

“His wife? He doesn't have a wife.”

Francine frowned. “Then who's this Mrs. Black you've been talking about?”

“Oh—his mother. No, Pastor Black is young. Very young. He just graduated from seminary. When his father passed away last year, his mother came to live with him. She was going to sell her little house in a nearby town, but he discouraged it. Said she might want to go back after she'd had some time to adjust. She's glad now. Thinks she might do that. She's missing her friends.”

“Wait a minute,” said Francine when Virginia stopped to take a breath. “Back up. You say he's young?”

“Yes.”

“How young?”

Virginia looked at her younger sister, puzzled. “He's quite young,” she replied. “Early twenties—somewhere. I don't know. I didn't ask him.”