Read Online A Quiet Strength by Janette Oke - Free Book Online Page A

Jonathan was working long hours out at the farm. Besides all the care for the stock, he had begun building the house that was to be their home. Virginia longed for a place of their own at the same time she was lamenting the work that kept Jonathan from her all day and often well into the night.
    Be patient , she kept telling herself. Just for a short time, and then we’ll be able to have a normal home and life together—just the two of us .
    A normal home. Virginia was not exactly sure what that might be. She assumed it would be much like the one in which she had been raised—two folks caring for each other, doing things together, sharing a common faith and similar goals. Showing love and devotion toward each other. At the same time, Virginia reminded herself that her own father was gone for much of the day. He did not spend his time sitting around holding her mother’s hand or stroking her brow. How was it they seemed to have such an easy understanding of each other’s needs? Why was her mother so perfectly content just knowing that her father would be home “later”? Why did romance seem to matter so little and commitment seem to matter so much? Virginia thought that there must be a lot that she did not understand about the marriage relationship. All she knew, all she felt with every part of her being, was her intense longing to be with Jonathan. To have his full time and attention. To have him telling her with eyes and lips and arms just how much he adored her. Wasn’t that why he had asked her to marry him? Wasn’t that what marriage was all about? That total giving of one to the other?
    Yet Jonathan seemed to be content. Though too busy. Too pressured. Too burdened with all the responsibilities. But content nonetheless. He came in late, ate a warmed-over supper, looked about to fall asleep on the kitchen chair, then was up again before the sun the next morning, ready to do it all over again. Virginia sometimes had the fleeting thought that she might as well pack up her bags and move on back to her old bedroom. I wonder just how long it would take before I would be missed? she mused, not totally facetiously.
    But all of those rather mournful thoughts were laid aside when Jonathan came home. The feel of his arms as he pulled her close, the brush of his kiss against her temple—these alone were enough to make the long, lonely hours well worth the wait for his return. And when he whispered words of love all wrapped up with progress reports on the home he was building, Virginia scolded herself and repeatedly vowed to never fret inwardly again.
    But it was hard to keep her silent promise. Especially when most of the few precious moments they had to share were not spent alone. Jonathan’s grandmother seemed to always have a list of odd jobs for Jonathan, a jack-of-all-trades. “Men need to feel needed,” Mrs. Withers confided to Virginia one evening as she sent Jonathan off with a post maul to pound in some stakes for her giant gladiolas. Virginia felt a lump growing in her throat; she needed Jonathan far more than those gladiolas did.
    But Virginia knew it was useless to agitate against the circumstances. They had discussed the living arrangements before the wedding. She had agreed, fully agreed, that she would sooner spend some time sharing a home with Grandmother Withers than to have to wait for marriage until the farmhouse was built. Jonathan had been more than fair in leaving her with the final decision. He had warned her that it would take his time and attention to get the house ready for occupancy. It was not Jonathan’s fault that she had not fully understood just how difficult it would be.
    She and Grandmother Withers made quilts. Not just one, but three. In the evenings while waiting for Jonathan to return, they quilted together. It was not Virginia’s chosen way to spend an evening. She would have been far happier with a good book. But Grandmother Withers seemed to enjoy the time, so Virginia endured.