A Searching Heart (23 page)

CHAPTER 17

W
ith Rodney's graduation in the spring, he and Grace were planning a late fall wedding. It meant excitement for the entire family. The Simpsons would travel by train to Grace's home city of Bremington and stay with her in her mansionlike home. “I insist,” she told them. “That is the only reason I am keeping the house for as long as I am.”

Already Rodney had a job with a pharmaceutical company in the growing city where they would live. It was a long way from his small-town roots and hard for the family to accept that he and Grace would not set up housekeeping nearby as Clara and Troy had.

But Rodney seemed so happy and excited by the prospects that they could do nothing but rejoice with him and wish them well.

He and Grace had decided to sell the large house that she had inherited and move into a less auspicious home in a newer neighborhood. But making those arrangements would take time, and they did not want to be rushed.

At first it had bothered Rodney that his new bride would be the one to provide the family home, but he explained to his family that Grace soon laid to rest any arguments that he presented.

“I didn't earn it, either,” she had assured him. “Nor did my father, if it comes right down to it. It was passed on to him through my grandmother. She was the one who brought money to the family.”

Grace shared more of her family history on one of her many visits. They all were gathered around the table after a Sunday dinner, including Clara's little family.

“My mother came from a lower income family. My father met and fell in love with her on one of his business excursions. She was working in the office of one of the companies he visited. He brought her home, and my grandmother was the first to give her approval. ‘You'd be a fool, my boy, not to marry that girl,' she told him. ‘And I have never set out to raise a fool.'

“My grandmother was a very outspoken woman. I'm not sure if the family was matriarchal, but if it was not, it was not for any fault on my grandmother's part. I learned all this from my mother's diaries that I discovered shortly after Aunt Sadie's passing.

“Every reference to Grandmother spoke of a wise woman— and she was fair. She didn't make snap judgments, and they were not based on bias. I guess that made her ‘dictatorship' a little easier to bear.” The lovely young woman smiled a bit ruefully.

“It wasn't that Grandfather was spineless,” she said. “There were a number of times when he put his foot down. But he also respected Grandmother's judgment and invited her opinion on matters.”

Clara pushed back from the table with a sleeping baby in her arms. “Oh, please, Grace, could you wait a minute while I put the boys down for naps? This is fascinating, and I don't want to miss a word.”

They all laughed as she hurried out with the two boys in tow. They chatted quietly until Clara returned.

“Now, where was I?” Grace wondered. “Yes—my grandfather appreciated my grandmother's wisdom and wanted to know what she thought about various matters.

“My own father, an only son, grew up used to seeing a husband and wife work together in making decisions. Some in the business saw that as a weakness. He never did, and would have stood up to them regarding it. He took my mother with him on his trips as much as possible, and even at home they would discuss business deals and future investments.

“My mother did not have the same educational opportunities and experience, but she was astute—and she learned quickly. She was a much keener judge of character than my father, who saw everything and everybody as either black or white. Mother would say, ‘Now let's just give him a chance, Benson. He may have learned from that mistake.' ”

The group chuckled. They laughed harder when Drew put a playful arm around Belinda's shoulders and said, “Just like my dear wife allows me my mistakes—for learning purposes.”

Grace's expression indicated her appreciation of the family repartee. When they had settled down, she continued her story.

“Mother was an only child, too, by the time she met my father. There had been two other children in the family, but they both died from childhood diseases. Anyway, my folks had not been married long when Mother lost both her parents over the same winter. There was only Aunt Sadie—my mother's aunt—left. She had been living in a teeny backstreet house by herself. I think that Mother felt dreadfully lonely after losing both of her folks in such short order, so she brought Aunt Sadie to live with us.

“At first I was afraid of her. She mostly sat in her room, looking stern and formidable. She would speak to me in this low voice, ‘Come here, child.' I always went as bidden, because I was too afraid not to, I guess.

“Soon Mother was traveling with Father more, and I was left in the care of Aunt Sadie. I discovered that she was not one to be afraid of at all. In fact, I grew quite attached to her. What I loved most was that she could always be coaxed into reading me a story. I can still hear her rich voice, ‘Once upon a time . . .' ”

Grace laughed at her own imitation, and her audience laughed with her.

“Then,” she said soberly, “on one of the trips my folks took there was a train derailment. That was the last I ever saw them. I was very young, and I don't remember them well. Just little bits and pieces here and there. Little snatches of what it was to be part of a family. Fortunately Aunt Sadie stayed on and took over.

“She would never spend a penny of the money that was left for my guardianship—not on herself. She had her own little income that she drew on. ‘Nobody's gonna say that I cared for you to get what you got,' she told me every once in a while.

“But she was most particular about me. How I dressed. Where I went to school. My manners. ‘Not going to have Carrie'—that was my mama—‘feeling shame over her little girl,' she'd say.

“She never went out. Not even to church. She sat at home in her own room, her Bible on her knees. I think she was intimidated by the wealthy neighborhood and the big church down the street. She knew she wasn't a part of it, and she never wanted folks to think that she was pretending to be.

“But she sent me to the church. Every Sunday. Mr. Will drove me and Miss Emma accompanied me. Every Sunday. Me all dressed up in the latest fashion, feeling rather strange and like I was on display.” Grace paused for a moment and looked down at her hands, no doubt remembering those rather awkward and lonely times.

“But the church was good for me,” she said, lifting her head and smiling around at the group. “I took notes and took those new truths home every Sunday, and Aunt Sadie and I discussed them. It was at Aunt Sadie's knee that I asked for forgiveness of my sin.

“When she died, I was devastated. She had never permitted me to make friends in normal ways. I think she wasn't quite sure who my friends should be and didn't want to make any mistakes. ‘God will show you who to partner with when the time comes,' she would tell me—any relationship to Aunt Sadie was a partnership.

“So I was quite lost when she was gone. For the first several months, I didn't know what to do or whom to talk to. Then one day Miss Emma, who was still with me, spoke frankly. Aunt Sadie would have said that she ‘spoke out of turn,' but I'm so glad that she was brave enough, and cared enough, to break down those walls that Aunt Sadie had carefully constructed around me—between household help and homeowner.

“ ‘Miss,' she said to me. ‘Seems that you have to get things back together one of these days, or you are going to be just sitting here like your aunt Sadie throughout your entire life. There's more to the world than this heap of stick and stone. I would suggest that you discover it.'

“At first her words upset me, but I did do some thinking about them. Soon I was praying about them. I had no idea where to start, so I got brave one day and asked Miss Emma. ‘Why not talk to the parson?' she said. It sounded like a good idea, so I made an appointment to see the pastor of my church.

“He did give good advice. He urged me to consider getting training in some field. I imagine he was thinking more about getting me out and away from the house than anything. I considered the possibilities and decided on nursing. He seemed surprised at that. He probably expected me to pursue something in the arts. My nursing took me to the university campus—” she stopped and smiled at Rodney, reaching for his hand—“where I met Rodney.”

The look that passed between them made a little bittersweet catch in Virginia's heart.

“And I have discovered that God had it all planned—even before I had caught on to it,” Grace finished.

It was a nice story, though certainly with its share of personal sorrow. Virginia felt even more regard for Rodney's wife-to-be. She hoped they would be very happy together and counted the days until they could all share in the upcoming wedding celebration.

———

Mr. Woods was making frequent train trips to visit Jenny. Once she had gotten back to the university city, she had pleaded with her father to let her stay. The doctors, though they searched with all the knowledge at their disposal, found no reason why Jenny should not be walking. The only thing they could suggest was further therapy.

Mr. Woods reluctantly left her and returned home, visiting as often as he could make the trip to see her.

Virginia was thrilled to learn that he had lived up to his promise to see Thomas Black, and the minister had led him through the Scriptures, and guided him through the sinner's prayer of repentance.

Even though his eyes held a new light and his face a new glow, Mr. Woods' expression turned sorrowful as he went on to report Jenny's response.

She was not the least pleased by the decision, the man had told Virginia. “Are you going soft?” she threw at him, then added sarcastically, “I liked you better when you were drunk.”

Mr. Woods looked so shamefaced as he said it that Virginia wanted to put her arms around him in comfort. But she did not. He grieved over Jenny and her attitude, but he was determined not to give up on his only daughter.

Virginia, too, grieved. How could one who had been constantly prayed for over so many years be so distant from God? she wondered. But she was committed to keep right on praying.

———

Virginia had written back to Jamison, and they continued to exchange occasional letters. Little by little he introduced her, via the written page, to his Rachel. A few times Rachel added little postscripts at the bottom of Jamison's letter. Virginia always smiled. A few months earlier it would have seemed impossible that she would ever enjoy an exchange with Jamison's new love. Now it seemed quite natural—and even enjoyable.

“It won't be long now until Jamison is finished with his classes,” Rachel wrote on one occasion. “Please pray for wisdom for us.”

And Virginia did.

“I'm bringing Rachel home for the weekend,” a hasty scrawl on the back of a postcard announced. “Can you meet us at the 5:45 on the 22nd?”

It was signed with the initials, J.C.

Virginia felt excitement—and also a case of nerves. But this time it was not the anxiety of seeing Jamison again. That was a thing of the past. But because she would be meeting Rachel for the first time. She truly wanted this young lady to like her. She could not easily have put into words why it was so important to her—she only knew that it was.

If pressed, she may have said she had this funny feeling that Rachel might be critical of Jamison's past alliances. For her to make the discovery that he had chosen poorly in the past might reflect, in some way, on his character and good judgment. It was silly reasoning, but Virginia honestly wanted nothing to damage Rachel's perception of the friend from her youth.

Virginia took some time in selecting the dress she would wear to work that Friday. Very carefully she pinned her hair and chose the hat to complement it. There would be no time to come home and change before the train arrived.

“I just think this is so strange,” observed Francine in her worldly wise manner when Virginia made her appearance in the kitchen. “I mean, what woman would go to the train to meet her former boyfriend's new girl?”

Belinda smiled as she shook her head at her younger daughter. “I think it's nice that Virginia is mature enough to be happy for Jamison.”

“Well, I think . . . it's abnormal,” insisted Francine. She was quite vocal about beginning to study the boys of her acquaintance with the thoughts of a possible suitor.

“She seems very nice from her notes,” Virginia told her sister. Francine was doing little to put Virginia's nerves at ease.

“That's another thing—writing notes to—”

“Francine, would you get the cream from the pantry, please?” Belinda's assignment stopped Francine's verbal musings.

Francine went to obey, still muttering about the strangeness of the situation.

“You look nice.” Belinda turned to smile at Virginia.

“Oh, I hope so. I mean, I know little about her. Well, I know quite a bit about her—her personality and all. But I've no idea how she will dress. She might be far more . . . more fashionable, like Grace. I'd feel just—”

“You look very nice,” Belinda repeated. “Jamison knows you and the fact that you are not a fashion plate. Do you think he would invite you to the station to embarrass you?”

Virginia shook her head. But inwardly she knew that Jamison, being a fellow, might not be thinking ladies' fashion at all.

All day long Virginia fought to concentrate on the tasks at hand. When five-thirty arrived, she closed the door and tidied the small office, then reached for her hat. Carefully she fastened it with the long hatpin and smoothed the hair that curled about her face under its brim.
At least the hat is fairly new and quite becoming,
she thought with some satisfaction as she studied herself in the small wall mirror.