The Tender Years Read Free Page B

bedroom.
    She had barely entered the room when a new irritation surfaced.
    “Where ya been? You’re late.”
    Without even turning to give her younger sister a glance, she responded over her shoulder, “I have homework. Shut the door on your way out.”
    But Francine would not be dismissed so easily. She followed Virginia into her room and stood, feet planted apart, blue eyes shining with open curiosity. “Where ya been?” she asked again. “Mama said for Clara to assign you your chores. Ya didn’t come. Clara had to do them herself so you wouldn’t get in trouble. Where ya been?”
    Virginia let her bag of books flop onto the desk and stood eying her younger sister. A bit of the anger at being caught began to seep away. She knew that much of her feeling was not justified. Clara was not really unreasonably bossy. She was just a big sister.
    Still … still it was not an enviable position to be in the middle of a family of five. Clara was her mama’s right hand . Her papa’s oft mentioned firstborn . Rodney, who came next in line, was her papa’s first son and her mother’s pride because of his intellect and his gentle reverence toward his God. Rodney was almost too perfect , Virginia reasoned. How could anyone ever live up to a big sister like Clara, who was always sweet, always busy, always rushing to help Mama, and a big brother who was so smart and so good? It was an impossible position.
    And then, after her, there was Daniel. Daniel with his dreamy eyes and his tender heart. Danny, who always brought home stray dogs that limped and cats with torn ears or birds with broken wings. And Mama was always right there to help with the mending, and Papa was always hammering together another coop or cage to hold the new patient while healing took place.
    And if that wasn’t bad enough—there was Francine. Francine with the big blue eyes that looked, innocently, right into your soul. Francine, who laughed and clowned and teased her way into her father’s heart. Francine, who had arrived after the loss of another child and filled her mother’s soul with renewed singing, her papa’s world with laughter. Francine, who forever would be the family’s baby.
    It didn’t seem fair to Virginia that she had been planted right in the middle. She—the only one in the family who didn’t have some redeeming trait. The only one who questioned, appealed, argued for reason, and longed for some special acceptance at the same time as a right to freely choose. It wasn’t fair. Not fair at all.
    “Where ya been?” Francine was not going to give up. Her blue eyes were fastened on Virginia’s face. They clouded. “Will Mama be cross with you again?” There was such honest concern in the spoken words, in the straightforward look, that Virginia spun away.
    “Why don’t you just mind your own business?” she asked crossly.
    “I can’t,” came the wavering answer.
    Virginia turned to give her younger sister a stern look. Francine’s chin was quivering, large droplets were tugging at her dark lashes. “Why?” she demanded.
    “I’m scared. Scared Mama will scold you again. Make you stay in your room—or do the dishes.”
    “Well—don’t be. I can take care of myself. It’s none of your business.”
    The teardrops fell, making shiny wet tracks down the silken cheeks.
    “I don’t like it when you’re scolded,” Francine sobbed.
    “What’s it to you What—?”
    “You’re my sister.”
    “So—?”
    They stood only feet apart. One staring in open defiance and anger, the other blinking back tears expressing a deep concern.
    “I love you,” said the younger in little more than a whisper?
    Virginia came awfully close to spewing out an angry retort. But she could not. There was something about the little figure before her that assured her the simple words were true. Francine did love her. Perhaps the love was undeserved. Perhaps the affection was not always readily returned, but it was there. It was not something to