Jennie was not alone in the emotional struggle a move to Jaffrey could bring. Back in Peoria, Illinois, another young person was resisting with all his vigor the proposed move to this small village.
Stephen Marshall picked up his stack of school books and Walked slowly up the brick path leading from the high school to the bus stop. He was not particularly interested in taking the bus today, as there was a lot on his mind and he preferred walking. Stephen was a striking boy of medium build, rugged in a way, with sandy-colored hair and deep-blue serious eyes that softened when he smiled.
He was a good violinist and the favorite choice of the young people for playing the piano at their hymn sings. Not that it was his ambition to be a musician! Not at all! Still, he had to admit to himself that he did pretty well. He had a way of seeing poetry in the most ordinary things; but when it came to accomplishing something important, he was certain he could give up his dreams if necessary, to reach a more practical goal.
He turned up the street, wending his way through the crowd of high school students waiting for the bus. He could catch a bus later, or walk. He was craving a hamburger, some French fries and a shake. There was a lot to mull over in his mind this afternoon. McDonald's might be the best place to sit and think.
Sitting down in a far corner of the restaurant, he spent some time deep in thought, trying to come to a decision. At last he gathered up his books and walked on, the fresh green of springtime about him. He liked Peoria and was content to stay here.
"Hi, Steve!" a friend called to him as he crossed the square. Stephen flashed his winning smile. The year he was top athlete at school won him many friends. This year he gave up sports at his father's insistence. He wasn't certain in his own mind, but it had pleased his father. There were always so many things for a person to decide. Sometimes he thought he deserved a bit more freedom than he had. He wanted to sail to the wind, to climb the highest mountain peak, to explore-to reach out and grow. A fellow was only young once.
As he turned down Baker Street and cut across an empty lot, he felt a need to get away from it all, the way he had last summer when he made that visit to Oregon.
How exhilarated he felt backpacking for several days on the rocky ridges above timberline. Looking up to those higher, ice-covered peaks, he dreamed of the day when he would conquer them with an ice-ax, cutting out his steps when the going got rough, painstakingly maintaining perfect balance in the steepest parts. There would be fear, of course. No honest man would deny fear in a circumstance like that! But overcoming the fear would be one big reason for wanting to tackle the climb in the first place. Then when he was up on that mountain alone, he could say, "This belongs to me. It's all mine—my experience! There's nothing to hinder me but my own limitations!" Up there, far away from Peoria, he rather enjoyed a sense of being free from his responsibilities.
As he continued walking toward home, he remembered a late afternoon hike he took through dense forest. He had been enjoying the sound of a nearby mountain stream and the freshness of saplings breaking as he walked through the Lacey undergrowth, when to his pleasant surprise, he came upon a clearing. There below him lay a beautiful lake, shimmering in the sunlight like a cluster of diamonds.
Kicking up a cloud of dust, he scurried down the steep, rocky bank with his heavy stick to keep him from slipping on the rocks. Almost running down the steep incline, he came to a sandy beach covered with large rocks.
Weary with the afternoon's exertions, he cleared the rocks from a spot to prepare a bed for himself. Slipping off his backpack and setting it down beside him, he laid down on the soft sand and promptly fell asleep. Now and then he stirred to the sound of the wind in the trees, lulled back quietly to sleep by the gentle lap, lap, lapping of the waves against the rocks. He was awakened by a coming storm, the wind sounding like the fierce roar of an oncoming train.
He had yet to learn that an experienced backpacker, no matter how tired, will make some preparation against unexpected rain. He did not have time to unpack and get his tarp up, the storm was coming in so rapidly. He fled to a small grove of young trees to protect himself from the rain, and huddled there for nearly three hours. Watching from his shelter, he saw the storm approach the lake, shaking the vine maples in a sudden burst of violence, the sky growing strangely dark. Thunder began to roll; lightning flashed about him. He was in his element, relishing this opportunity to battle against the elements of nature.
His backpack had everything he needed: warm clothes, an aluminum pan and plate, matches and plenty of dehydrated food. Later, when he attempted to build a fire in the dampness, he learned one of his first important lessons as a mountain climber. Next time he would set up his pup tent before the storm rolled in, keeping his backpack protected with a plastic covering. There was plenty of unfamiliar ground he wanted to cover. That trip was just a beginning.
Sauntering down the street in Peoria, Stephen shook himself from his pleasant reverie. A new problem faced him now and he was going to have to settle it. His father wanted him to move with the family to an isolated spot in New Hampshire called Jaffrey Center, where his aunt and uncle lived.
Tonight he would have to discuss this with his parents. If they wanted to go, he certainly couldn't stop them; but it would be his chance to move on. He was eighteen now, soon to be a high-school graduate. He would enroll in one of the colleges in Oregon and continue his education to become a schoolteacher. His parents wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. He certainly wasn't going to move East at this exciting point in his life!
"Steve, Steve!" He turned to see Julia, his sister, catching up to him. Having graduated a year ahead of him, she was working in one of the high school offices.
"I saw you cutting across the empty lot, so I left the bus stop and hurried over to walk with you. Do you mind?" Julia was a tall, serious girl of nineteen with dark curly hair and brown eyes.
"That's okay," he answered absentmindedly. "I want to do some thinking, but I'm glad to have your company." He looked affectionately at his sister. If he was allowed to remain behind, he would miss her. She was a friend to him. It was Julia who listened to his problems. It was she who hurried into his bedroom after he left for school, and tidied it for him so it would please their mother. She was the one who helped him late at night with his school assignments. Julia was the brain of the family, but she could be fun, too. They had ridden horseback in the summers, bicycled in the lazy afternoons, and taken long walks in the evening, discussing a variety of subjects. "By the way," he asked suddenly, "what do you think of our moving East?"
Her face fell. "Stephen," she said with intense feeling, "I don't want to go at all. I can't understand the folks doing this to us. I enjoy our Christian friends here, our hymn sings, the good times we have together. I feel like we belong here. It's home." She paused and kicked at a pebble along the path. She was trying to accept what she knew couldn't be changed. She looked up at her brother as he spoke.
"Julia, remember our visit there to Uncle David's a few years back? Jaffrey is the loneliest place I've ever been to."
Julia, of course, remembered, but recalled the warmth with which their aunt and uncle welcomed them. With their own children married and living elsewhere, they missed having young people around. Julia also recalled the gathering there in Jaffrey.
As if reading her thoughts, Stephen continued speaking, "I suppose I could get used to Jaffrey itself, since I would be busy at the college nearby, but...." His mind went back to the memory of that small gathering of old people. "Julia, if we go there, I'm not going to have any friends. I like the guys here. Friends sometimes take years to make. I'm used to this way of life. It isn't anything all that great, but it's home. I enjoy our hymn sings, too," he added, "especially if the speaker doesn't talk too long!"
Julia smiled. "Someone said a new family moved to Jaffrey last winter with three girls." She shifted her books. "They are gathered to the Lord's name there."
"Girls!" Stephen exploded, "that won't do me any good! I want to stay here; if I can't do that, then I want to move on to Oregon. I've got college ahead of me and years before I'm ready to be tied to a girl." Wordlessly, he reached for the stack of work Julia was bringing home from the office. How could she possibly think that a family of girls would make up for all he would have to leave behind? Why couldn't she understand his feelings? He looked at Julia with disgust. That last remark had removed all doubt from his mind. "Julia, if Mother and Dad go, I'm not going."
"You're not going?" she exclaimed in unbelief. "You wouldn't go?"
A few weeks later Julia was packing with her mother, preparing for the move to Jaffrey. "I'm sorry you and Stephen have to go ahead of us," Mrs. Marshall was saying, "but selling the house is taking longer than we expected. Your going early will give Stephen a chance to get settled in college." Mrs. Marshall was thankful the past weeks were over. Stephen had finally agreed to move with the family to Jaffrey—the understanding being that when he turned twenty, his father would let him move elsewhere. She would never forget how he had hurried down the basement steps to his room with its knotty-pine walls. He felt he might as well start packing up his things right then, take his room apart. It was like taking apart his life.
Now Mrs. Marshall looked over at her daughter, "Do you think you'll be looking for a job right away, Julia?" She realized the move was going to be hard on them all.
"Not if I have to go on typing swear words day after day," Julia responded with sudden annoyance. "It's getting me down!" Mrs. Marshall looked surprised at the turn the conversation was taking, as Julia continued to explain. "My boss invariably dictates letters full of swear words. He expects me to type them, but I just can't do it!"
"What have you done, then?" her mother asked.
"Well, it has taken a lot of nerve," Julia replied, "but I've substituted another word whenever he has put them in. He laughs at me, but at least so far he hasn't made me change them back. Just listening to them gets me down, as it is." Julia reached for another empty box and a stack of her picture albums. "Another thing is that he asks me to lie for him. But he has come to realize I won't do that, either. He's been reasonable about it, but I'm just plain tired of it all!" She stacked several books into the remaining space in the box.
"The Lord has rewarded you, Julia," Mrs. Marshall reflected. "You've been faithful to Him and He has seen you through. If we had a large family like some of our friends in various parts of the country, I could give you plenty of work to do at home."
Julia replied thoughtfully, "The girls would sure think it strange to hear me say this, but I've thought how nice it would be to stay home with several younger brothers and sisters and help with the housework. But Mother, I guess you'd never stand for me taking over your work!"
Julia finished taping the last box, thinking all the while about the problems a young girl faced in finding suitable work. She felt a strong burden not to be lazy, yet she dreaded once again leaving the security of her home to face the world with all its cold, harsh, often disturbing ways. She loved the shelter of her parents' home, the protection she felt there, yet life must be faced in a realistic way. She wondered where the answer lay, and what she would find when she moved to Jaffrey. "I've worked in an office long enough!" she concluded, looking up at her mother. "I just couldn't take another job like this one!"