Irene Brand - To Love and Honor

And while most newborn’s eyes soon change, Violet’s never had, except to become more expressive and intense as she had matured. So her name was the one legacy she had gotten from her father.

Lying in bed, Violet did a lot of praying. Were there any similar incidents in the Scriptures to guide her decision? When Jesus was on the cross, suffering an agonizing death for the sin of mankind, one of his last concerns was for his mother, committing her to the care of a beloved disciple. But Jesus had known his mother; she had loved him and supported his ministry. Mary was there at the foot of the cross to bring comfort when He was dying. When Violet had needed her mother, she had been rejected. Violet’s aunt had done her best to explain that Violet’s mother had only done so out of good intentions, but Violet deeply felt the pain of that rejection nonetheless—carried it with her always. Even if she was in prison, she could have kept in contact with her daughter Violet had always felt. No, Violet decided, there was no parallel between Jesus’s care of his mother and her situation.

Scripture proverbs that Violet didn’t remember that she had ever heard insinuated themselves into her mind. Do not despise your mother when she is old. Well, she didn’t despise her mother; she didn’t know her well enough to despise her. But another thought needled her conscience. You know her well enough to harbor an unforgiving attitude toward her.

Violet had never doubted before that she lived an exemplary life, one that was in harmony with the teachings of the Bible, but she knew that she was facing a situation that would put her Christianity to the supreme test. During her reflection, Violet kept pushing aside one of the parables of Jesus that she would have to deal with before she resolved her turmoil. Once when Jesus had been discussing the end of the present world, He had specified the criteria for those who would inherit eternal life, and He emphasized strongly that the proof of people’s faith was illustrated by their treatment of others.

Violet picked up the Bible to refresh her memory; perhaps it didn’t really say what she thought it did, but the words of Jesus in the book of Matthew pricked her soul like a hot knife. I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.

“But, Lord,” Violet murmured in her own defense, “I went to the prison, wanting to see her, and she wouldn’t receive me. Doesn’t that vindicate me? What more could I have done?”

Try as she might, Violet could not use past circumstances to influence this decision. She knew that, whether or not she took her mother, her Christian commitment was on trial. In this crisis, would she hear her Master’s commendation, “Well done, good and faithful servant”? Or would He say to her, “Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me”? Did she have a faith strong enough to sustain her in the crucible of life? She would soon find out.

Although Violet couldn’t tell anyone in Maitland about her problem, she knew she did have to contact her aunt, Ruth Reed. They often chatted via phone on Saturday afternoon, so Ruth didn’t think anything unusual about the call, and they visited several minutes before Violet came to the reason for the contact. In concise terms, she explained the situation.

Ruth caught her breath sharply, and was silent for a minute or more when Violet finished. “Oh, poor Linda,” Ruth finally said. “After all she’s been through, what a sad way to end her life.”

Violet was dumbstruck for a few moments. Since Roger’s visit, she had been dwelling on how this emergency would affect her; she had never once considered her mother’s side of the situation, but how like Aunt Ruth to think of others first. She proved that by her next words.

“Of course, you can’t take her, Violet. I’ll bring her to my home and care for her.”

“Now, Aunt Ruth…”

“Violet, listen to me. If you bring Linda into your home, there’s a chance that her whole past will blow up in your face. Both your mother and I have tried to shield you from the consequences of events that weren’t your fault. We can’t let it surface now.”

“Roger said that she told the prison officials she didn’t have any relatives, and they traced me through my birth certificate. She apparently doesn’t want to come here.”

“No, she wouldn’t, so don’t worry any more about it. I’ll get in touch with the correctional facility and tell them I will assume her care.”

Violet hesitated. How tempting it was to dump the problem on Ruth. Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me. “Please don’t make any arrangements for a few days, Aunt Ruth. Honestly, it would be a relief to shove all of this on your shoulders, and I’m not even sure if I can assume the responsibility for my mother. But I’m twenty-five years old, and if I’m not mature enough now to face up to my obligations, I never will be. Give me a few days, and pray for me that I might make the right decision.”

As he often did on Saturday night, Larry took her to the country club, which featured a lavish buffet on the weekends. When he removed her coat to hang it on the rack, his hands lingered on her shoulders. “Say! You’re beautiful tonight. Is that a new dress?” She nodded as they were escorted to a reserved table. “I didn’t know the teachers at our school received a raise in salary,” he joked.

She laughed, and for a moment, cheered by his admiration, forgot the calamity about to break over her head. “I’m a careful shopper,” she answered.

After he seated her, he took a small box from his pocket, opened it and removed a thin silver chain. “Allow me,” he said, and he bent toward her, fastened the necklace around her throat and left his arm on her shoulders. Touched, Violet lifted her hand to feel the smooth circlet around her neck.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said, “but what’s the occasion?”

“I wanted to make amends for my harsh words a few days ago. I was so intent on heading off a potential crisis among our pupils and parents that I didn’t consider the right and wrong of what I asked you to do. I shouldn’t have put you in such a position.”

She covered his hand resting on her shoulder with her fingers. “Don’t speak of it again. Have you had any repercussions over Janie’s selection?”

“Oh, a few murmurings from some of the students, but so far, no parent has contacted me.”

“But you may have telephone calls on Monday.”

“Quite possibly, but we won’t let that ruin our evening together. Shall we go to the buffet? It isn’t crowded now.”

At the buffet Violet asked for a small portion of roast beef, which she surrounded with several vegetables. The salad bar was always tempting, but she chose only a bowl of marinated vegetables. She had little appetite, but to keep Larry from asking unwanted questions, she forced herself to eat. They lingered over their dessert and coffee.

As they drove back to her home, Larry said, “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving weekend? I’m flying to Colorado with several of my friends for skiing. I would like for you to go as my guest.”

Violet’s spirits plummeted. For much of the evening, she had forgotten about her mother. “That sounds great, but I’m not sure I can go. I may have company that weekend. Aunt Ruth often comes here on Thanksgiving, and I go to her home for the Christmas holidays. May I let you know in a few days?”

“Sure, but we need to make reservations by the end of the week.”

When Larry kissed her good-night, his caress was more passionate than it had ever been, suggesting a new level in their relationship. He had never kissed her so ardently, he’d never asked her to accompany him on a trip before, nor had he bought her any jewelry. Should she jeopardize a possible marriage with the catch of Maitland by taking in her mother? On the other hand, should she tell Larry the truth about her past?

Violet changed into casual clothing after the Sunday worship service, and was about to prepare her lunch when the phone rang. It was Roger, wanting to know how she felt.

“All right, I suppose, but I’m no nearer a decision than when you brought me the news.”

“You looked a little down.”

“Gee, thanks—I needed that encouragement,” Violet replied with a laugh.

He laughed then, too. “I didn’t mean it that way. You were beautiful as always, but you seemed distressed. And with reason, too,” he added. “What are your plans for this afternoon?”

“Nothing special.” Except throwing a pity party for myself, I suppose, she thought. “You can either feel flattered or annoyed, Roger, I don’t let my guard down with anyone except you. Most people think I never have a care in the world.”

“The kids have gone to a concert this afternoon, and I’m going out to my farm to exercise the dogs. Come with me. I’ll throw some sandwiches in a backpack, and we can eat out in the open. The temperatures are supposed to be warm this afternoon.”

“I warn you I’m feeling rather grumpy.”

“You’re not the first grumpy female I’ve encountered.”

She smiled, and her voice softened. “You’ve talked me into it. I’ll contribute apples and cookies to the picnic. What time?”

“Pick you up in a half hour. Wear walking shoes and a jacket.”

As Violet hurriedly washed two yellow apples and placed some cookies in a plastic bag she felt her mood lightened. It would be relaxing to spend the afternoon with Roger; he accepted her as she was.

Roger’s fifty-acre farm was located ten miles from town. There were a few outbuildings and a small house, which he utilized as a retreat when he wanted to escape the pressure of his work. Most of the farmland was tillable, and he rented this to a neighbor to raise corn. Ten acres of the property was rugged, covered with deciduous and evergreen trees. He bypassed the buildings and drove on a private road along a large creek until he reached the base of the hill.

“Do you come out here often?” Violet asked.

“Not as often as I want to. I try to bring the dogs for a run at least once a week, and spend a few hours at the house. I’ll give you a tour of that before we go back to town.”

His dogs were housed in a wooden structure in the back of his pickup. He opened the doors, and two beagles with smooth white coats, black-and-tan patches, and long, droopy ears, vaulted out of the box and into the underbrush beside the truck. They nosed around in the grass for a few minutes, and then with a yelp, the largest dog took off through the woodland, with his companion right behind him.

“Should we follow them?”

“Not unless you’re feeling overly energetic. They’ll cover lots of miles this afternoon. They go where they want to, and when I want to leave, I whistle them in.”

“And they always come?”

“Well, not always, but let’s hope they do today. I have to go on duty tonight at eight o’clock, so I can’t spend much time looking for dogs. But they’ll be all right unless they pick up a deer’s scent. They’re not supposed to chase anything except rabbits, but I don’t have time to train them as they should be.”

He reached in the truck for a bright orange pack, in which he stored Violet’s apples and cookies, and strapped it over his back. Pointing upward through the trees, he said, “This is a one-hiker trail. Do you want to go first?”

“I’ll follow since I don’t know where we’re going.”

He adjusted the straps on the backpack. “Call out, if you want to rest.”