Spring was arriving and Stephen was bringing Laurie home with him for the weekend. Julia knew this had been a long, hard struggle for Jennie, who agreed to keep her overnight. Sitting on the front steps with Jennie, Julia sought to find just the right word of encouragement. She decided to tell Jennie about an experience that had been very hard for her.
"When we lived back in Peoria," she began, "I had a close relationship with someone, much as you have had with Stephen. I know that he was very much aware of how much he meant to me. He led me to believe that I was more than a friend to him." Jennie had not known of this. It seemed that Julia was always full of surprises.
"One night my best friend came to spend the night with me. After she arrived, this friend of mine came over to take her out for the evening. I couldn't believe they could be this rude." She looked at Jennie with hurt still in her eyes.
"What did you do?" Jennie asked.
"It was awful. I had to greet him, see them off, and then see them again when they returned. It was terribly hard. After they left, I spent the evening in tears, and I must say I had a very strained relationship with the girl when she came back." She looked off down the street, remembering how it was. "It's hard, Jennie. But you get over it—finally."
They talked more about Stephen. Julia spoke up. "I would really prefer that a fellow come to me first and tell me what has happened, than shock me that way. Sometimes young men don't realize how badly they can hurt a girl. Just because there hasn't been a commitment between them, doesn't mean that two people haven't shared a lot through the years. I know that's how it has been with you and Stephen." She looked at Jennie. "I feel that no matter how much it hurts, it still is best if the fellow is manly enough to come and let the girl know before she finds it out some other way. Even a phone call would be better than nothing, if he feels he just can't face her. In the end, she'd think a lot more of him, and it might make for better relations between them later on. It could make all the difference in being able to remain friends."
Jennie thought awhile. She would certainly have liked to talk this out with Stephen, but she knew that was asking too much. She turned to Julia, "It seems that so much of the unresolved hurt would lessen if you just heard a few last words to help you understand why, and maybe too, if you could be assured that you could go on as good friends. It wouldn't be quite so hard to accept then."
"Being rejected is an awful thing! But, Jennie, I think that most of us have to go through this at one time or another," Julia replied, remembering her own painful experience. "I know that all weekend you'll be wondering why he chose Laurie instead of you. But I don't think even he would know the real answer to that."
That afternoon, Jennie took her Bible down to the woods. "What are you doing?" Lisa asked, as she stood in the doorway, watching her.
"I'm going over to the woods to read and pray," she explained. A sheltered spot beneath the trees, with a mossy undergrowth, had become Jennie's favorite spot when she needed to be alone and didn't have time to bicycle to the lake. There was the short walk up Main Street and then where the road separated, she took off into the thicket of trees that lay behind the meeting room. She often went there with her Bible tucked under her arm, sometimes with a pad of paper and pencil to take notes.
Lisa exclaimed with the simplicity of a small child, "How pretty!" Jennie smiled over the fact that to Lisa, praying and reading in the woods was a "pretty" thing to do.
"Want to come along?" she asked, half-hoping she wouldn't. As much as she loved Lisa, she didn't need her childish prattle following her today. In the end, it was Kara who came with her, Muffin at their heels.
Jennie sat under the trees, the wind blowing her long, dark hair. Kara wandered off alone, picking wild flowers.
Jennie pulled a letter that had arrived from Uncle Robert from the inside cover of her Bible, where she was protecting it from the wind, and looked at the careful handwriting. As she took it out of the envelope, a few sprigs of pressed flowers fell out and the breeze almost swept them away.
Her thoughts were so far away, she almost let the flowers go; then, realizing with sudden awareness they were from her friend, she reached out just in time and caught them, then began reading.
Uncle Robert was back in South Carolina now. He wrote that he had gone out very early one morning to the barn and found a patch of spring flowers growing fresh and new along the path. He pressed them for her, knowing how much she loved flowers. She could picture him there in his overalls, all the family still asleep, leaving by the side door and walking across the pathway to the barn. It was a thoughtful gift and to think she almost let the wind carry them away!
She read on. He wrote about the spring conference he went to, the meetings and how many dear Christian friends had attended. He also told her of the work on the farm, the hours of painting he was enjoying and the summer crops his son Thomas and daughter-in-law Heather were planting. He was so happy to be back to his gardening.
Casually he mentioned, "The hummingbirds came on Wednesday." She smiled. It was so like him to have remembered the very day they arrived. He had once told her about these hummingbirds and the feeder he put out for them by the living-room window. It was easy to picture him now, sitting there with his snowy-white hair, absorbed in the delightful birds. His letter coming the very day she was facing such a trying time was one more instance of the Lord's perfect timing in the smallest details.
Kara dashed back to her, clutching a handful of violets and forget-me-nots. Knowing Jennie had something very pressing on her mind, Kara wanted to show she understood. Sitting down beside Jennie, she listened to the end of the letter.
"You know I haven't had many roses in my pathway," he wrote, "but I learned many years ago as a boy to take everything, big and little, to the Lord. He will answer prayer."
Jennie folded the letter and thought how Uncle Robert knew the Lord Jesus as a Friend. Jennie longed to know Him more in this way. Opening her Bible, she turned to Isa. 30:2929Ye shall have a song, as in the night when a holy solemnity is kept; and gladness of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe to come into the mountain of the Lord, to the mighty One of Israel. (Isaiah 30:29) and read: "Ye shall have a song, as in the night when a holy solemnity is kept; and gladness of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe to come into the mountain of the Lord."
It was a beautiful verse, but could she take it for herself? She appreciated Kara sitting beside her, the gift of flowers on her lap, and the letter from her dear friend which brought back so many cherished memories. But a song? How could there be a song?
As she finished reading the verse a second time, the trill of a bird in a nearby treetop filled the air. It was a comfort sent from the Lord, an assurance that indeed He would fill her heart with a song of joy.
Later that afternoon, Stephen arrived with Laurie. In spite of herself, Jennie was drawn to her immediately. The family agreed the two girls could well have been sisters. The resemblance was definitely there.
That night, Jennie lay in bed unable to sleep, waiting for Laurie to return from her evening out with Stephen. It was so much like Julia's experience except that Jennie was prepared. It was a time of mixed feelings, but she knew she must be a friend to Laurie. There was nothing to gain in letting it be otherwise. Laurie didn't know of her fondness for Stephen and she would never tell her.
As she lay there, she recalled their walks down Main Street with its twinkling lanterns when they shared their separate, growing-up experiences, their struggle to accept this small gathering with its limited fellowship, and the fact that in the end they both were coming to think of it as home and to enjoy it in spite of the limitations. How many hours had they talked together? She could never even try to guess.
She would never forget the long winter evenings spent around the fire working on puzzles and sketching scenes together. Nor would she forget the times she played the piano with Stephen beside her, playing his violin. Often a group would gather around the piano, singing in harmony with their duet.
But especially she would remember that spring afternoon of Alec's farewell dinner-Stephen walking to the porch, smiling, calling to her through the screen as she arranged the apple blossoms for a centerpiece on the table. Sometimes the simplest memory had a way of becoming the most dear.
There was a knock on the door. It was Laurie who soon joined her in the warm bed, bubbling over with talk and laughter, telling Jennie some of her memories-all so recent, so new. She knew nothing of the struggles in Jennie's heart.
"One of the things I appreciate most about Stephen," Laurie said, "is his thoughtfulness."
Yes, Jennie knew of that, too. Whatever memories Laurie cherished, Jennie had hers as well.
"You know," Laurie chuckled, bubbling over again with her new happiness, "every time he comes to see me, he brings me flowers. Sometimes it's just one rose from the florist, other times it's a whole bouquet. But the other day he was late, and with no money in his pocket, he just stopped along the path and picked a handful of forget-me-nots. Somehow that was what I liked best of all!"
But Jennie was remembering the wild geranium which had taken him so much effort to locate in the woods and the spring evening she turned in her garden to see Stephen standing there, smiling, holding the gift out to her.