The Tender Years (14 page)

But even as she remembered her annoyance with Jenny, she remembered one of her talks with Clara.

“We must never be too harsh in our judgment of folks,” Clara had said. “They may not have had all the blessings of proper training—of concerned parents—or truth from Scripture that we have enjoyed. We should not judge them for things they do not know. For making mistakes that they do not recognize.”

Maybe it was that way with Jenny. Maybe she had never been taught to look for the good in people, to be kind and appreciative….

Virginia finished lacing her skates and stood up.

“You need some help?” she called to her friend. She was determined to make Jenny’s introduction into the Youth Group as enjoyable as possible.

“Did Jenny have a good time?” Virginia’s mother asked the question as she helped her off with her lengthy scarf and knit hat.

“I think she did,” Clara answered before Virginia could. “I was proud of our group. Proud of Virginia. Everyone went out of their way to make Jenny feel at home.”

Their mother smiled. “Do you think she’ll continue to go with you now that the ice has been broken at the skating party?”

Belinda stopped and laughed at her own little pun.

“Ice didn’t break tonight,” offered Rodney, rubbing his hands briskly over the big stove. “It was too cold.”

“Was it really chilly?” This from their father.

“It was cold all right—but perfect for skating,” Clara assured them. “The ice looked good and fast tonight.”

Virginia thought again of Clara’s gift to Jenny. She wondered if she would ever be that unselfish.

“Well, I am so pleased,” her mother commented. “I feel that you have finally made a breakthrough, Virginia. Now that Jenny has been to one youth outing, I hope that she will feel more confident to join us for church. I think that sometimes people outside the church can have some very strange ideas about us—and about what happens there.”

“They think we’re … we’re monsters or something,” put in Danny, who had been allowed to stay up for his siblings’ return. He could hardly wait for his turn to join the Youth Group.

“Well … I don’t know about monsters,” their father said, “but anything new and unknown can be rather frightening at first. I’m glad Jenny had a good time, her first time out. You’ve made us very proud, Virginia.”

“It wasn’t me,” Virginia admitted as she drew off her heavy leggings. “She wouldn’t have been able to go if it hadn’t been for Clara. I never even thought to offer her my skates.”

She was still selfish and thoughtless. She still had a long, long way to go.

CHAPTER 13

V
irginia was surprised that Jenny seemed more excited about the upcoming Valentine’s party than she herself. Jenny didn’t seem to be able to talk of anything else. But when Jamison’s name came up so often in those one-sided conversations, Virginia began to understand just what the attraction for Jenny might be.

She wanted to say something. To warn Jenny that Jamison was one of the “older boys.” That he wasn’t one bit interested in a girl two years his junior. That Nelly Bent already had her eye on Jamison, though Jamison seemed to be totally ignorant of the fact. That Jamison would not think of pursuing a girl who did not share his faith. But she said nothing. She did not wish to make Jenny angry with her. That might cause her to refuse to continue in the Youth Group.

“I told Pa I need a new dress,” Jenny said excitedly as they walked home from school together on the rather chilly February afternoon.

Virginia had not even thought of asking for a new dress.

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘See to it then.’”

“He did?”

Virginia wished it was that easy for her to add to her wardrobe.

“So are you getting one?”

“Of course,” Jenny answered.

Virginia felt a twinge of envy.

“You can come with me to choose it,” offered Jenny generously.

“I’ll have to ask Mama.”

The following Saturday they set out for the mercantile so Jenny could pick out her yard goods. The local seamstress was already engaged for the sewing. Not having a mama at home to teach her, Jenny had not learned the art of sewing.

In spite of herself, Virginia felt some excitement, too. Perhaps it was contagious.

“This is the first dress I’ve picked out for a—you know—for a boy,” Jenny’s words enthusiastically tumbled over each other.

Virginia frowned. She had thought the dress was for Jenny. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” said Jenny with that flip of her red hair. “This is the first time I need to … to think about what he’ll like best.”

“Who?”

Jenny cast her a disdainful look. “Are you a dullhead?!”

Virginia finally understood that Jenny was speaking of Jamison. “Oh.”

The one word came out sounding flat and reproachful. Jenny gave her another hard look. Then said a bad word. Virginia had hoped that Jenny had put aside all that language borrowed from her father. She felt the frown pucker her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” cut in Jenny. But she didn’t look sorry. She looked angry. “But sometimes you can be so … so very childish. Someday you’re going to have to grow up.”

Virginia felt her chin lift. “If growing up means using bad words and—” She was going to say,
swooning over boys
, but she caught herself in time. The latter might indeed be part of the growing-up process and didn’t belong in the same category with the first accusation. She changed to, “Well, I just don’t use those words. Mama and Papa—”

Jenny gave her another cold stare. “I know, I know. They don’t let their little girl use grown-up talk.”

“That’s not grown-up talk,” Virginia insisted. “That’s … that’s gutter talk. My folks—my grandpa—none of them need those words. And they are grown-up and—”

“All right,” Jenny interrupted. “I said I’m sorry. Let’s not fight.”

They walked in silence, tempers cooling along with their faces in the biting wind that blew from the north.

Virginia was glad to reach the store and step inside. It felt warm and sheltered, and she found herself drawn to the big potbellied stove in the middle of the room. Sharing its warmth with the few customers who gathered around it, she chaffed chilly hands and listened to stories about harsh winters of the past.

Mr. Eddy raised his head and gave a nod and a smile. “What can I do for you girls? Bit cold to be out strolling this morning.”

“I need yard goods,” Jenny said quickly, the excitement back in her voice.

“Yard goods? Mrs. Eddy helps with that.”

He turned and bellowed, “Cora! Customer needs some help.”

Virginia moved as close to the stove as the others would allow and tapped her feet lightly to get some circulation back in her toes. It was too cold to be out buying material for a new dress just to impress a boy at a Valentine’s party. She felt an elbow in her side.

“C’mon,” Jenny said. “She’s here.”

Virginia obediently followed toward the shelf of ginghams and calicos, flannels and wools.

Mrs. Eddy had not spoken nor smiled. She began to lift down bolts of sturdy material, placing them on the counter in front of Jenny. Jenny looked at them, fingered one, then frowned.

“Haven’t you got anything … nicer? This is for a party dress,” she told the woman.

“Party dress?”

Virginia heard the words and the agitation that accompanied them. Had the woman been called away from her baking or mending? She seemed annoyed, and they hadn’t even done anything. And then Virginia remembered that, according to Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Eddy spent the greatest share of her time reading penny novels. Perhaps she had been called from the pages of one of those. No wonder she was out-of-sorts.

“What about that … that blue?” Jenny was pointing up on the shelf.

“It’s too fussy for a schoolgirl,” Mrs. Eddy snapped.

Jenny seemed to ignore her. “Or the green there—or that … that creamy color.”

“It’s too light for winter wear. There’s a nice cinnamon here.”

Jenny scowled. Though the face was meant for Virginia, Mrs. Eddy saw it and bristled. Virginia was afraid there was going to be trouble. It was rumored—again by Mrs. Parker—that Mrs. Eddy could be rather overbearing if she put her mind to it.

Virginia stepped forward and, in her most conciliatory voice, said softly, “I think she is afraid the nice cinnamon would not suit her hair color.”

Mrs. Eddy humphed as she turned to stare at Jenny’s hair, but she didn’t say a word.

“The blue, the green, and the cream,” Jenny repeated.

Without a word the woman reached for them and plopped the bolts firmly on the measuring counter.

“Ah,” said Jenny, her face brightening as one hand touched the fabric of the cream-colored material.

Mrs. Eddy quickly pushed aside her hand. “Don’t fondle it. You’ll soil the fabric.” The words were sharp.

For one awful moment, Virginia thought that Jenny was going to explode. She might use some of those bad words again. Or worse. But instead, Jenny reached into her pocket and withdrew a little roll of money. She laid it firmly on the counter, all the time her eyes full on Mrs. Eddy. The woman seemed to get the message. Jenny was a paying customer. Then with another look that firmly announced she was well within her rights, Jenny reached out and gently fingered the cream material.

She turned back to Virginia.
What do you think?
her eyes asked.

“It
is
light—for winter,” Virginia finally said.

“But it is pretty.”

“The blue is nice, too. And I think the green would suit your … your eyes.”

Jenny lifted the bolt of blue and held it against her chest. Then she laid it aside and picked up the green. “Watch closely,” she told Virginia. “Which one is best? The blue, the green?” She switched them again. “Or the cream.” She reached for the cream and held it up against her, close to her face.

There was no doubt in Virginia’s mind. The cream did wonderful things for Jenny.

But Mrs. Eddy was right. It was much too light for winter. It would not be a proper choice. Her mama would never have selected it. It was like material for a bridal gown.

“Maybe the green,” Virginia mused.

But Jenny swung around to the storekeeper. “Do you hav a mirror?”

The woman looked surprised but nodded stiffly. She produced one from beneath the counter.

Jenny began her own investigation. Virginia turned away. She knew what the choice would be. Jenny could not help but see that the creamy material brightened her green eyes and brought out the rosy flush of her cheeks. It would be the cream material, and everyone would think that she was a simpleton for wearing such flimsy material in the dead of winter—and to a church youth party. It was silliness. Pure silliness.

If she had a mama …
Virginia’s thoughts began. But Jenny did not have a mama.

“Why don’t you let my mama come down and help you choose.” Virginia heard herself saying as she tugged on Jenny’s sleeve. “She’s really good at picking material, and I bet she’d even sew up the dress.”

But Jenny turned to her, a look of pure delight on her face. “She don’t have to. I’ve already made up my mind.”

Jenny modeled the dress for Virginia the day before the Valentine’s party. It was beautiful. Beautiful and totally inappropriate. But Virginia did not say so.

“It’s lovely,” she said instead, which was a perfectly truth? ful statement.

“Do you think that … that he’ll like it?”

By now Virginia fully understood who
he
was. But she couldn’t say. Not really. She had no idea what Jamison might think of the dress. “It’s lovely,” she said again.

“But will he like it?” Jenny persisted.

Virginia swallowed. She wished she could tell Jenny that she was far too concerned about the impression of a boy who couldn’t care less. But she could not say the words. “I … don’t know why not,” she said lamely. “It really is lovely.”

That seemed to be enough for Jenny.

The night of the Valentine’s party was even colder than the skating outing had been. Virginia bundled up under the supervision of her mother. “Be sure to wear your heavy stockings and your warm sweater under your coat,” her mother advised. “It’s cold out there. Even inside the church it will be chilly. The stove will never be able to keep up to the cold from the windows.”

Virginia thought of Jenny. How would she survive in the frilly, lightweight dress?

The two were to meet at the corner and walk the short distance together. Rodney would already be at the church, having volunteered to make sure the fire was built in the big cast-iron stove. Clara had also left early. She was on the refreshment committee.

As Virginia moved along the frosty walk, she hoped Jenny would not keep her waiting. It was much too cold to be standing on a street corner.

But Jenny was already there. Hopping back and forth from one foot to another, clapping her hands, and blowing out streams of silvery breath each time she exhaled.

“I thought you’d never come,” she said impatiently. “I’m on time,” Virginia countered. “You’re early.”

Jenny spun away and started off down the boardwalk before Virginia even reached her side. Virginia noticed that the girl was wearing her light coat.

“Where’s your winter coat? You’ll freeze,” she exclaimed.

“It would rumple the dress,” said Jenny simply.

“But—”

“Hurry.”

That did seem like a good idea.

They removed their coats and scarfs and hung them on the pegs in the church’s entry. Virginia thought Jenny looked almost blue with cold. She kept rubbing her hands, blowing on her fingers, and shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. And then Virginia noticed that Jenny was wearing light stockings and shoes, as well.

“Jenny, you’ll freeze. You’ll be sick,” she said in concern but was rewarded with one of Jenny’s famous
looks
. They moved in to join the other young people who had already gathered.

The room had been completely changed. The hard-backed benches had all been moved to the sides, leaving the room open and empty. Cheerful red hearts and white lacy bows had been skillfully hung by the decorating committee. Cheerful red candles burned on each window ledge, fluttering a fragile flame with each small draught of air. In spite of Rodney’s careful attention to the fire, the large room still held a chill. Virginia was glad for her warm stockings and wool sweater. She cast another glance Jenny’s way and saw her friend noticeably shiver.

But Jenny did look lovely in the creamy gown.

If getting attention had been Jenny’s purpose, she was completely successful. In a room filled with young girls in sensible, dark winter wools and flannels, Jenny stood out like a butterfly in a garden full of moths. Virginia noticed the various reactions. Girls looked at Jenny with sly glances, pretending not to be impressed but just a bit uncertain as to how they should respond to her appearance. Boys, too, stole quick looks, flushed, then turned quickly away to pretend that they really hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.