The Tender Years by Janette Oke Page B

does, if he’ll be all right mentally.”
    Her mother seemed to remember Virginia again. She turned back to her, and one hand reached up to smooth the tangled hair. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know they are your classmates. This is hard.”
    But Virginia’s mind was whirling. Her heart pounding. “Jenny?” she managed through lips stiff with fear. “What about Jenny?”
    Her parents exchanged quick glances. “What do you mean? How did you know—?”
    Instantly, Virginia knew that she had given away her secret. For one instant her eyes widened in consternation, and then she leaned against her mother’s shoulder and began to sob.
    Her mother let her cry, pressing a comforting hand against the small of her back, using the other to smooth the hair back from her face. When the worst of the emotional storm had passed, her father quietly spoke. “I think you need to sit down and tell us about this.”
    Virginia blew on the hankie her mother offered and sniffed back remaining tears. “We went to the creek after school,” she started slowly, twisting the handkerchief around her fingers.
    “Why?”
    “They knew it was … was flooded, so it would … would raft good.”
    “But it didn’t raft good,” protested her father, irritation edging his voice. “It was extremely dangerous and could have—may have—cost someone’s life.”
    Virginia nearly burst into tears again.
    “How many?” her mother asked her rather sharply.
    “Six,” Virginia replied, mentally picturing the group. “Fred? die, George, and Sam and Ruthie, Jenny and me.”
    “Thank God,” her mother said with deep emotion. “Then we did find all of them. They were so upset that we weren’t sure they were thinking properly. They are all in deep shock.”
    “They just wanted to raft,” defended Virginia.
    Her father let the comment pass. “What happened?” he asked instead.
    “I don’t know. I … I … Jenny and Ruthie were so late, and I … I got mad and came home.”
    Virginia was well aware of the looks that passed between her parents. With a deep sigh, her mother’s arm tightened about her again.
    “So you came home before they took the raft?”
    “They had it already. They got it from under the bridge. Mr. Taggart’s.”
    “So they filched a raft.”
    “They were just borrowing it,” Virginia quickly tried to explain.
    “But they didn’t have permission—did they?”
    “No-o.” The answer came slowly.
    “Go ahead,” prompted her father.
    “Well, they had the raft, and we waited for Jenny and Ruthie to come and when they came—” She hesitated. Did she dare tell her folks that Jenny had also stolen sweets? Did she have to tell? She decided to skip that part. It had little bearing on the accident, and her folks had always told her not to be a tattletale.
    “I … I got mad, so I came home. The rest of them were going to try the raft.”
    “So what happened?” Her papa had turned back to her mama.
    “We aren’t sure. They got into rough water. Something went wrong. Luke thinks they might have hit a submerged rock or caught a tree. The raft must have flipped. They were all thrown into the water. The one boy struck his head sharply—likely on a rock. Like I said, a couple of them managed to hang on to an overhanging limb, but they are still in shock and suffering from exposure to the icy water. The one boy went under. Was swept along. It was Rett who pulled him out. Guess he heard the screams. He had to make three tries before he found the boy, Ruthie said. By then the Crell boy had been under for a long time—maybe too long.”
    Her mother stopped and shook her head. “Luke doesn’t know if he’ll make it.”
    Virginia felt a sickness sweep through her body.
    “What awful news to take to parents.”
    Virginia watched the fingers of her father’s hand pass through his hair. She noticed that he looked as drawn and pale as her