A Searching Heart (15 page)

“In the hospital—there in Almsburg. A doctor called.”

Virginia was busy sorting through the information. Mr. Woods started to move on. She reached out a hand to detain him and spoke again before he could hurry away.

“Is she—is it serious?”

He nodded then, and Virginia thought she saw tears in his eyes. “It's serious.” Then he was gone.

Virginia bowed her head, her own tears streaming down her face. “Oh, God,” she prayed, “be with Jenny. I know she's rejected you, but give her another chance. Please. Please don't let her die now. She's not ready. Help the doctors. And, Father, be with Mr. Woods. He loves her, too. I could see it in his face. Please, God. Don't let Jenny die.”

Virginia did not add an amen. Though she lifted her head and hurried toward home, her heart did not cease its continual prayer. Over and over she whispered, “Please, God, be with Jenny. Don't let her die. Please don't let her die.”

When she reached home, she pushed open the kitchen door and called for her mother. From somewhere near the front of the house, Belinda answered, “I'm here.”

“Where's here?” The agitation and alarm in Virginia's voice was met with the sound of hurried footsteps coming to meet her. Belinda's expression showed her concern when she entered the hall leading to the kitchen. One look at Virginia's tear-streaked face and she rushed forward. “What is it?”

“It's . . . it's Jenny,” Virginia managed before she burst into uncontrolled sobs.

Belinda reached out for her daughter and pulled her close, then pushed her back to look into her face. “What happened?” she insisted. “Tell me what happened.”

“An auto accident,” Virginia said with trembling lips.

Belinda's eyes reflected the horror in Virginia's. She paled and pulled her daughter back into her arms again.

“Is it. . . is she . . . ?”

“She's in the Almsburg hospital.”

Belinda's relief that the young girl was not dead was apparent.

Silently she held Virginia, stroking her hair, patting her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. The shoulders soon stopped shaking, and the muffled sobs subsided.

“How did you hear?” Belinda asked.

“I met her father on the street. He was rushing toward . . . toward the train station.”

“He's going?”

Virginia thought about that. “He must have been,” she answered. “He had a little . . . little valise in his hand.”

Silence again.

“I'm glad he's gone to be with her,” whispered Belinda.

Now that she thought about it, Virginia was glad, too. She leaned back in her mother's arms. “Do you think I could go?” she asked her mother.

“To Almsburg?” Belinda sounded surprised, but she did not give an immediate and negative reply.

“We'll see,” she said thoughtfully. “We need to talk to your father. He should be home soon.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel through the open archway. “You'd never make today's train. It should be pulling out anytime now.”

“But there's another train tomorrow,” Virginia commented.

Belinda seemed a bit shaken. “Almsburg is a long way from here. We know no one in the city. I have no idea how you'd find your way to the hospital—or accommodations—or anything.”

“They must have streetcars or taxis,” replied Virginia.

They were moving down the hall, back toward the kitchen. Virginia realized that she still had not removed her coat. She did so now, hanging it on a peg behind the door.

“We'll talk to your father,” Belinda said again. “In the meantime, we'll pray.”

“I've been praying.” Virginia sounded about to burst into fresh tears.

“I know you have,” responded Belinda lovingly. “Come. We'll pray together. The Lord will show us what to do.”

———

The discussion with her father concluded that he would look into the possibilities in the morning.

Virginia got little sleep that night. Every time she stirred from troubled dreams, she found herself praying for Jenny again. In the morning she bathed her face in fresh cold water and tried to disguise the puffiness of her eyes.

It was difficult to go to work, but Virginia did. She was sure she'd never be able to concentrate on the tasks at hand, but once she was there with a job to be done, she found she was able to put her mind to it.

The news traveled quickly through the small town. Several morning customers to the post office asked Virginia about Jenny, knowing the two girls had been friends for many years. A few had their own information. Which of Jenny's bones had been broken or how many young people had been in the auto. Virginia wondered where they had learned it and discarded the conflicting accounts as hearsay. One lady even told Virginia that Jenny was the only one to survive the crash, and she was hanging on by a thread.

I will not believe any of this until I have the facts,
Virginia told herself, firmly keeping her emotions in check.

The facts came in the person of Virginia's father. His face was somber when he entered the post office. He spoke first to Mr. Manson, the postmaster. “May I have a moment with my daughter, please?”

Mr. Manson took one look at Drew Simpson's face and nodded in agreement. He indicated a small supply room off to the side. Virginia did not wait further but moved toward the room, a big lump in the back of her throat. As soon as the door was closed, she turned to her father.

“Virginia,” he said, “I've been on the phone for most of the morning. I wasn't able to get through to Jenny's father, but finally one of her doctors talked to me.”

Virginia held her breath. She knew it was not going to be good news.

“Jenny is still fighting for her life. But she is alive,” he continued. “We can be thankful for that. She's unconscious. She has internal injuries. They are not sure yet just how extensive. The bleeding has the doctors greatly concerned. She had a nasty bump on her head. That, too, is a big concern.”

“Broken bones?” Virginia heard herself asking.

“Broken bones, but bones heal.” Her father's dismissal of the broken bones with such casualness sent another tremor of fear through Virginia. If broken bones could be shrugged off so easily, then Jenny's condition was extremely serious.

“Jenny is unaware of anything that is going on around her right now.”

So I'm not to go,
thought Virginia. She waited for those words from her father.

“But I think that you should leave on today's train,” her father said instead. “I'm sure in this situation Mr. Manson would be agreeable.”

Virginia looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He seemed to read the question she did not ask and went on simply, “You may not be able to help Jenny at this point, but I think her father needs you.”

Virginia swallowed. How could she help Mr. Woods? That would be a pretty big task. He was likely holed up in some hotel room with a bottle for solace. The very thought frightened her.

“But I don't want you in Almsburg on your own,” her father went on. “I've asked our pastor to contact a minister in one of the churches there. I have talked with him directly, and he will meet you at the train station. You are to stay with them. He'll see that you get to the hospital. If anything—
anything
— concerns you, you can call on Pastor Black.”

A stranger. I am to stay with a complete stranger
was Virginia's first thought. She recoiled at the idea. But as her father continued to speak, she felt she understood his reasons. He, as well, knew that Mr. Woods often sought his consolation from a bottle. Many bottles. Yes. Her father was right. She would feel much more at ease staying in the home of a minister whom she could turn to for help.

She managed a nod and whispered, “Thank you, Papa.”

Drew reached out with his one remaining arm and pulled her against his chest. “Virginia,” he said into her hair. “I'm so sorry. For a young person you have had more than your share of life's hard knocks. We'll be praying. Telephone us. Anytime you have need. And remember, God is still in charge. He's still great. He can turn this whole thing around and use it for good. This might be the very thing that brings Jenny to Him.”

It was a new thought to Virginia. She had not recognized any possible good that could come from such a tragedy.

“If you are in agreement, I will talk with Mr. Manson. See if it is possible for you to have a week off.”

Virginia nodded. Yes, she was in agreement. Even if Jenny could not recognize her, was totally unaware that she was even in the room, she would be there. She could pray with her, even talk to her. But as to Mr. Woods, Virginia was sure she would be of little comfort to him.

“I'll talk to Mr. Manson,” she told her father, stepping back from his arm. “I'm the employee. It's my responsibility.”

He nodded and patted her shoulder again. “I'll get your ticket,” he informed her and opened the storeroom door.

———

Virginia's heart was beating hard as she boarded the afternoon train. She had never traveled alone before, and the reason for her trip added to her uncertainty and nervousness. All sorts of “what ifs” ran through her mind. Her mother already had covered most of them, with continual, “If . . . , Virginia, then . . .” Her father had managed to chuckle in spite of the circumstances. “You'll have the poor girl afraid to breathe,” he teased his wife.

Belinda chuckled and kissed Virginia on the forehead. “You're right,” she said to her husband. “She's quite able to handle things properly on her own. It's a habit of mine. This . . . this mothering and fretting over my young. I'm sorry, Virginia.”

But Virginia had not resented the extra hovering from her mother. In her heart she wished she could take Belinda with her into this rather frightening, undesired circumstance that confronted her. She never would have confessed as much. Now she boarded the train, selected a seat, and leaned to the window for one last wave to her family standing on the platform.

As the train began to slowly move forward, squealing a protest as iron wheels ground against iron rails, the tears gathered in Virginia's eyes. She wasn't sure if they were brought on by her continued concerns for the welfare of her friend or because she was traveling alone into the unknown. What would await her at the other end of this rail line? Would the minister be friendly—or stiff and frightening? Would Jenny's father be glad to see her—or resist her intrusion? Would Jenny be totally unaware of her visit to the hospital room—or stir from her unconscious state to welcome her? Or would—would Jenny die before she could even reach her side?

———

The rambling train seemed to travel at turtle speed. The sun went down and darkness engulfed them. Virginia sat stiff and silent on the maroon plush. A few times the weathered conductor with the handlebar mustache, blue suit, and brimmed cap passed down the aisle, moving easily back and forth with the sway of the train, nodding her way and passing on. An occasional passenger stirred from time to time, finding footing much more difficult than the seasoned railman had. Mostly, folks just sat. Virginia heard a baby's cry and a mother's hush. Two old gents near the middle of the car carried on a rather loud conversation. She idly wondered if they both were hard of hearing—or only one of them. She made no effort to understand the words tossed back and forth in the closeness of the railcar.

It was almost ten o'clock at night before her rumbling stomach reminded her of the lunch her mother had packed. Carefully she unwrapped the little package, thankful that her mother had insisted, and began to eat. A small bottle of milk finished off the meal.

She was sure she would never be able to sleep, but she rolled an extra sweater into a ball and placed it beneath her head, resting up against the coolness of the window. The next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her shoulder. “Miss. Miss,” a voice was saying, “your stop is just up ahead.”

A uniform was bending over her. Virginia's sleep-filled eyes traveled up past the blue and braid chest, past the curling mustache and into the eyes of the conductor who bent over her. She shook her head to clear its fog and nodded.

Once fully awake she began to gather up her things. The minister was to be meeting her train. But it was the middle of the night. How had her father ever persuaded a total stranger to get up from his bed to meet the train for an unknown girl?

Virginia decided that anyone willing to do such a service must be a person of unusual caring and worth. Perhaps she would not need to be so fearful after all. She picked up her case and coat so she would be able to disembark quickly once the announcement was made.

———

“Watch your step, miss.”

The conductor took Virginia's arm to assist her down the steep, narrow steps into the night. She blinked in the glare of lights that lit the platform and murmured a thank-you to the man as her foot reached for the last step. Adjusting her luggage, she followed the other passengers to the station.

For the hundredth time, her mind busily engaged itself in wondering,
How will I know him?
Her father had told her that the minister's name was Reverend Thomas Black, but that was all she knew.

Upon entering the large room full of benches and people, Virginia immediately began to scan the crowd. Off to the left a group of young people, probably students from the college, huddled and laughed and shared some hilarious news or joke. On the seats ahead, a few loiterers lingered, some slumped in sleep, others eyeing the incoming passengers with varied degrees of curiosity. Virginia turned to her right where several people milled about, some seeming to have purpose, others just aimlessly on the move. Among them was an elderly, respectable-looking man who seemed to be peering into the crowd. Just as Virginia began to move forward, certain that this was the minister she was to meet, he was greeted by an equally elderly woman. The two smiled at each other, gave a preemptory embrace, and started off together, he taking the small valise from her hand.