they asked your mother if you were her daughter, she responded that she had never heard of you.”
“Still rejecting me!”
“I don’t think so. I believe she’s still trying to protect you.”
“If she doesn’t want to come to me, why are they forcing the issue?”
“I asked that question, and I received a runaround answer. Some kind of new regulation gives prisons the option to parole terminally ill patients. It may be that they don’t have the staff to take care of her, but they are going to release her, if not to the next of kin, then to a nursing home, where she can receive proper care.”
“I don’t see how I can possibly bring her here. I have no feeling for her as a mother—it would be like taking in a stranger. Besides the fact that it would upset my whole life-style, how can I afford to do it? I’m living on a shoestring budget now, and there is no way that I can assume her medical expenses.”
“Then she isn’t eligible for Medicare?”
“No, I’m sure of that. I think she was only twenty when I was born, so that will put her in her midforties. She’s still a young woman.” Violet went into the bedroom and came back with a photo of a man, woman, and baby.
“That’s the only picture I have of my parents, and I would assume I was about a year old when the picture was taken. Aunt Ruth gave that to me when I started asking about my parents. They appear to be a happy couple, don’t they? What could have happened in a year’s time to cause such a crime?”
Roger took the picture and looked at it closely. Linda Conley was a petite woman with brown hair and eyes. Her husband, Ryan, was handsome with close-cropped black wavy hair and blue eyes. White teeth gleamed below a small black mustache. His expression and posture spoke of a strong sense of determination, while his wife’s expression indicated a low-key personality.
“His death may have been an accident, but if his parents were vindictive as you’ve heard, they might have pushed for your mother’s conviction out of revenge. If she didn’t put up a strong defense, a jury could have been swayed easily.”
Roger stood up and laid his hand on Violet’s shoulder.
“What am I going to do?”
He smiled, and she noted again how his face creased into deep lines when he smiled. “If I were in your place, I would do exactly what you’re going to do, although I don’t know what that is now. But it will be the right thing—I have confidence in your decisions, Violet.” A sudden burst of wind sent an onslaught of rain against the window, and Violet shivered. Roger sat beside her again and took her hand. “Don’t try to give me an answer now. I told the woman I would return her call in a few days. I didn’t even indicate that I knew anyone by the name of Conley. Take some time to think it over.”
“I’ll have to. Thanks for understanding, Roger.”
He gently squeezed her hand before releasing it. “What are friends for, anyway?”
Violet doubted that she would sleep, but since she hadn’t slept the night before, she had to have some rest. She checked the locks, turned out all the lights and went into the bedroom. The bed did look inviting, and she reached in the closet and removed the pretty pink nightgown that Aunt Ruth had bought for her birthday. As low as she felt tonight, her spirits needed lifting, and she admitted that the pink brought out the luster of her short, curly hair, and picked up the sheen of her long black lashes. The color also complimented her violet eyes. Though tonight they looked dull and lifeless.
Violet eyes! One of the few stories Aunt Ruth had told about her childhood was the reason for her unusual name. Her parents hadn’t decided on a name for their child, but the minute the baby had opened her eyes and they had noticed that the color was violet, her father had said, “We’ll call her Violet. I’ve never seen such a startling color.”
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
