It was an early June morning as the sun began to rise in the sky, promising another scorching day in Jaffrey. Another day of sameness, of dull routine.
A bit irritably, Jennie let the screen door go with a bang as she hurried out into the back yard with her heavy load of wash. As usual it was her turn to do the chores. She plunked the basket down on a bench beneath the clothesline as Muffin, her gray and white puppy, scampered about the yard, chasing a squirrel from the woods in back of the house.
Beyond the hedges bordering their yard, the neighborhood was beginning to stir. Birds filled the air with song, as she stood at the end of the winding brick path. Summer, with all its bright promise was arriving, but there was no song in her heart.
It would require more dedication than she felt she had at the moment to be a housemaid all summer long, although that was really what she was becoming. At seventeen, in the height of her growing-up years, her parents had moved the family from San Francisco and expected her to adjust to life in this sleepy town—this way stop! A fifteen minute walk in any direction would exhaust the town's possibilities. Beyond that... nothing!
She turned and looked around the yard. The curving brick path, filled with clumps of moss that had been growing for years, led to the neatly trimmed hedge which in turn bordered the garden. There in spring, a burst of pink blossoms appeared on the lovely dogwood trees and bright tulips popped up here and there among the flower beds.
But that was small comfort! Even though Jennie enjoyed the beauty of a garden, it didn't make up for all the hard work this large house was going to bring.
The Bentons did not attend a church, rather they were gathered in simplicity to the name of the Lord Jesus alone. In San Francisco this included a large circle of young friends, but in Jaffrey this meant only a small gathering made up of older people, which only added to Jennie's aloneness. As Mr. Benton traveled, he visited many gatherings elsewhere, inviting various families to come to Jaffrey.
For this reason, the Bentons purposely settled on this seemingly enormous, older home, so they would have ample room for the Christian friends they anticipated entertaining all summer long. In fact, Mr. Benton felt one reason the Lord had brought them here in the first place was so they could open their home to others.
Clearly, there was no escape for Jennie. It was obvious they would be keeping visitors for days-on-end all summer long. She looked disdainfully at the pile of wash sitting on the bench. She had known from the beginning that it would mean a lot of work for her.
In addition to herself, there was her younger sister Kara, who had just turned fourteen and seemed to always escape her end of the load, and her little sister Lisa, who was only six. As far as she was concerned, Kara was just plain lazy and Lisa tended to be spoiled!
Her mother was a hard, untiring worker, but she couldn't handle this responsibility alone and with her father busy at his office all day, who did that leave? Herself, of course! Rebellion welled-up within her.
"Jennie!" It was her mother calling again. "Hurry with the wash so we can get started on the pies."
She picked up a sheet and swung it over the line, catching it with a clothespin on one end, then on the other; picking up the towels, another sheet, the washcloths, thinking all the while about the beds to make, floors to clean, pies to bake. With a sigh, she thought how the days and nights of her young years were beginning to pass into an endless blur of meaningless housework.
The sunlight caught her long brown hair, making it almost golden in the brightness. Jennie often wondered why she couldn't have been pretty and dainty with her mother's fine features, instead of inheriting her father's everyday looks and his sort of ruggedness. In spite of being a small man, he was strong and sturdy, an avid mountain climber in his younger years. Jennie knew she took after him. Well, what did it matter if she wasn't pretty? There were only old people here anyway.
In the beauty of this early morning she would have much preferred using her energy to bicycle along the creek to Peterborough, stopping for a picnic lunch along the way, coming home just in time for supper. Oh, to be carefree like she used to be in California!
Jennie's thoughts were interrupted by the clear chimes sounding from the town hall up on the knoll. That was the only thing she really liked here, those chimes ringing out the hour in the awful stillness around her. But sometimes they reminded her, too, that time was passing, passing, and here she was-stuck in Jaffrey.
Shaking off her wistful thinking, Jennie returned to the task before her. Now was not the time for daydreaming. She gathered the remaining clothespins, tossing them into the empty basket. She passed the trellis of roses just beginning to bloom and dashed into the house, banging the door behind her.
"Jennie!" her mother called out, "Do you always have to slam the door? Can't you be thoughtful and learn to close it quietly?" Her mother was distressed by the change in Jennie's personality since the move to Jaffrey, and Jennie knew it.
She hurried through the living room to the adjoining screened-in porch and piled the dirty dishes onto a tray with a clatter. She hadn't been able to clear up from breakfast until now. Carrying the dishes into the kitchen, she sat down with a sigh at the table across from her mother and began peeling apples.
This was the afternoon the Clemens would be arriving from Walnut Creek, a suburb of San Francisco. They would be weary after many days of travel. In spite of being good friends of her parents, a family with six small children would mean a lot of work. Reluctantly, she filled the pie crusts with carefully sliced apples, stopping now and then to stuff a slice or two into her mouth, anticipating the delicious pies that would soon be bubbling away in the oven.
Jennie knew her mother shared her father's desire to be hospitable, yet having young children around was exhausting for her. Studying her mother, Jennie could see the weariness in her eyes already. Perhaps she, too, was anticipating the days ahead.
For this reason, though reluctantly, she was willing to help. She loved her mother, even if she resented all the work that was being piled on her. Her conscience reminded her that she wasn't acting the way a Christian girl should act.
The fact that she was a Christian certainly was one thing she wouldn't want changed. She never regretted accepting Christ as her Savior. How wonderful it was to finally have peace. Back home she had felt a close relationship with the Lord, thinking of Him as her Friend. She had taken her struggles to Him, with the confidence that He heard and cared.
However, since coming to Jaffrey, the rebellion in her heart had taken over, and she found it difficult to feel close to the Lord. At times she didn't even pray, knowing her prayers would be selfish, only demanding what she wanted. A comment made in a meeting kept coming back to her. The speaker had remarked that happiness is a state of soul, not a question of circumstances. She didn't want to remember, because she knew perfectly well that for her it was a question of circumstances.
Today everything was dull, uninteresting, nothing the way she would have chosen it, and she wasn't content. But back in San Francisco, things were different. As she remembered her friends getting together down by the ocean for a sing, she reflected that she could be happy in those circumstances.
Recalling the sinking rays of sun falling across the water, her thoughts returned to the closeness she felt for each friend back "home."
She remembered one evening when she arrived late. Walking along the ridge above the ocean, she heard singing in the distance as a stranger might hear it. She stood there listening to the happy voices below, her heart overflowing. The joy of belonging to the Lord seemed to flood the night air as the familiar chorus reached her ears: "Oh happy day, that fixed my choice On Thee, my Savior and my God! Well may this glowing heart rejoice, And tell its raptures all abroad."
One of the young fellows usually stepped forward to preach the gospel, praying that some listener would realize their need as a sinner and accept the Lord Jesus as their Savior. The good times she was missing were not entirely selfish. As a group, the young people there wanted to please the Lord and be a testimony to others. Now, so far removed from it all, she could hardly believe something so beautiful had been taken from her.
Now the buzz of a fly jolted her back to reality. As she finished making the pies, Jennie heard her mother answer the telephone. Mrs. Adams wanted Jennie to run over and pick up some fresh rolls she was baking to help prepare for tonight's company. She would have to go over there again. Oh, no!
Picking up a broom, she swept the downstairs porch for her mother, trying to work out a bit of her frustration as she swept vigorously back and forth. She took the broom and with a sudden motion pushed it hard against the wall, then dusted the table and chairs with a vengeance. She didn't want to accept this. If there was any way, any chance in the world to go back, she would do whatever was necessary on her part to make it possible.
Her friends were probably already out on the tennis courts in San Francisco. She remembered the thrill of tossing the ball high into the air, seeing the blue sky beyond it as she reached up with her racket and pounded it across the court. The laughter and good times they shared as they raced against one another, made tennis a lot more fun. Of course she could play here... with Kara, but that wasn't the same at all.
She could laugh now over the time one of her tennis partners took her sailing on a nearby lake. She could still remember the soft wind, the big, white sail bending with the breeze, their feet dangling over into the water, and the easy conversation. An awful fright came over her though, as they reached the middle of the deep lake and she discovered that her friend knew very little about sailing. A strong wind had come up, making it almost impossible for him to control the boat.
Overwhelmed with the realization that they could easily capsize, and with the full knowledge that she was not a strong swimmer, she had tried not to panic. She concealed much of her fright, but not all of it; for later he told her that he was much more frightened than she, certain the boat was going to go over. But even that would seem tempting here in Jaffrey. Even now, at the thought of it, a lump filled her throat. Why should she have to miss those good times, to come and live in this place? She reached for the broom again and started up the stairs.
Maybe if she had been raised here from the beginning or even had come from another small town, the adjustment wouldn't seem so hard. Maybe if she didn't have the memories of the past years with such good friends, she could accept this way of life. She was about fourteen when she started seeing the young people through different eyes. From that point until now had been three years of never-ending busyness and activity.
The friend who nearly drowned her on the sailboat ride was part of a family she was close to. Several times when her parents went away on a long trip, she had stayed with his sister. Something was always going on in their home: potluck dinners out on the long porch, a baseball game to join, or just a quiet evening of indoor games around the crackling fire, with hot chocolate and marshmallows.
The extreme contrast between San Francisco and Jaffrey seemed ridiculous. San Francisco was a large, bustling, modern city—Jaffrey hardly bigger than a whistle stop! The entire population of Jaffrey Center was only one hundred. Maybe now they made it one hundred and five!
But it wasn't just the size. In San Francisco, she loved the foggy mornings when she would wake to see the bay a fuzzy blending of mist and seagulls, with ferry boats dimly visible, crossing into the harbor. That view was always changing. On a clear night, the city lights sparkled. How many evenings she sat by the window, talking with Kara, watching those lights twinkling in the darkness. And then to come to Jaffrey!
She remembered one weekend back home when the young people met on the beach for a clam dig. The best spot was a couple of hours away. They wanted to begin by 5 a.m., so most of them went to bed early the night before. How hard it was, dragging herself out of bed that morning!
It was cold and damp and foggy down on the beach, just the way she liked it best. Nothing could be seen through the morning fog save an occasional seagull swooping gracefully to the sand. Only the sound of the ocean, endlessly tossing its breakers to shore, convinced Jennie it was actually close by. Gradually the fog began to lift and the ocean became visible.
Half the fun was trying to outguess the breakers, to wait for the tide to roll out, dash for a clam hole and begin digging. In spite of the difficulty, the buckets filled up fast.
She never cared for clams and thought digging them was a pretty soggy mess, but the ocean itself was invigorating and being a part of the group made it worth missing most of a night's sleep, besides getting wet. It was fun after taking their shoes and socks off, to walk barefoot on the damp sand. They enjoyed the sensation of waves lapping over their feet and then, pulling back to the ocean, the sand sliding through their toes. Later, there was volleyball, a picnic lunch and some jogging along the beach.
No wonder Jaffrey was such a shock to her and Kara. She started up the winding staircase with its polished banisters that led to the upstairs rooms. She could have almost liked this house if it had been in California. But then California didn't usually have this kind of house. It reminded her of a book she read where the main character lived in an enormous old house with an assortment of cubbyholes and a mysterious attic. It was picturesque with climbing vines and winding brick paths. Even if the house was a bit shabby, it did have those unexpected nooks and crannies.
Having a room upstairs was a new experience for Jennie. She liked climbing the stairs at night, having her own room at the end of the long hallway with its latticed wallpaper and view of the back gardens. She slept in a cozy poster bed beside an old, mirrored dresser that came with the house. Many snapshots of her favorite friends and places hung on the walls. Somehow, in that room she always felt at home.
Across the hall, Kara and Lisa shared a larger room at the front of the house. It was a restful room