To Love and Honor. Irene Brand

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      She could almost hear Aunt Ruth say, “Right is right and wrong is wrong. You can’t ride the fence between the two. Nobody has ever said that living an upright life is easy.”

      She envisioned Tom Walker, the minister at the local church she attended. He had preached a sermon on integrity a few weeks ago. His theme Scripture had been from Psalm 101, “No one who practices deceit will dwell in my house; no one who speaks falsely will stand in my presence.”

      And there was Roger Gibson, a man she admired. More than once she had heard him say to his youth group, when he was challenging them to live a cut above the average, “It is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.”

      It was a difficult decision to make, but as a Christian, a teacher, and a friend to Janie, she couldn’t give in to Larry’s demands. She would have to face critical parents without his support.

      A cup of strong coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a hot shower did little to bolster her courage when she set out early for school. She had to be on hand to answer students’ questions or complaints if there were any. Violet went first to the gym and checked the projects. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Janie’s exhibit still had the Best of Show purple medallion, so she wouldn’t have to confront Larry publicly on that.

      Overall, she was pleased with the awards and didn’t see why anyone should have any just complaints. Violet entered her room a half hour before any students were due, which gave her time to review her lesson plans. Her mind had been blank on everyday matters since Larry had called last night. After readying the equipment she would need for the day, Violet accessed the Internet. She felt faint with relief when she read her one E-mail letter: “You were right, of course, and I apologize. If there are any complaints, I’ll try to field them in the office. Dinner tomorrow evening? Larry.”

      Feeling as giddy as a kite in a strong March wind, Violet clicked the Reply to Author button, and typed in, “Sounds great to me. I’ll be ready at six.”

      When a bouquet of roses arrived during her prep period, Violet concluded that her friendship meant as much to Larry as his did to her.

      Although no one made any complaint to her about the judges’ decisions, Violet was alert to an undercurrent of discontent among the student body. As soon as the gym opened and the students learned the outcome, Janie had rushed into Violet’s room.

      “I can’t believe I won, Miss Conley. You were right—the judges didn’t know anything about me.”

      “It was a good project, Janie, and I’m pleased for you.”

      “Does this mean that I can be entered in the regional competition?”

      “Yes, but it won’t be until January, since all of the high schools don’t have their fairs as early as we do. The regional fair is held in Springfield, Missouri, and I’ll take you to it if that’s all right with your guardian. It’s during a weekend so we won’t miss much school.”

      Later, when Janie entered the room for her class time, her enthusiasm had waned, and Violet detected angry glances in her direction by some students, but they did nothing for which Violet could reprimand them. No doubt, in the hallways, they were giving Janie a rough time. At the close of the day, Janie came into Violet’s room, and though she was shedding no tears, her lips trembled.

      “My exhibit had been pushed to the floor. It’s ruined.” Violet was so angry, she didn’t dare speak. Disregarding the rules, she put her arms around Janie, and the girl started sobbing.

      “I knew my good luck wouldn’t hold. Nothing ever goes right for me.”

      Through clenched teeth, Violet said, “It is going right for you. You will go to that regional competition. You’ll have plenty of time to redo your project. Let’s go check on it.”

      As they started out the door, Violet saw the large form of Roger Gibson swinging down the hallway. His figure was even more prepossessing in his smart, brown uniform.

      “Hi. I came to get Misty’s project.” He looked from Violet’s angry face to Janie’s tear-streaked one.

      “Is something wrong?”

      “Janie’s exhibit was awarded the Best of Show medallion, but someone pushed it on the floor. I’m going to see how badly it’s damaged. I’m determined that she’s going to the regional competition, if she has to do a whole new exhibit.”

      “Of course she is,” Roger said, and he put his arm over Janie’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ll help you pick up the pieces and go from there.” Roger’s support was as welcome to Violet as Larry’s had been.

      Miraculously, the shadow box had only a few damaged places, which could easily be repaired. The models had all pulled loose from the box, but only one was broken. Roger knelt on the floor and helped Janie pick up the items.

      “No problem at all to put your exhibit back together,” Roger said. “As soon as I get Misty’s project, I’ll take you home so you won’t have to carry this.”

      “Oh, no,” Janie said quickly, “I thank you, but I don’t want to ride home in a police cruiser. Mrs. Grady or the neighbors might think I’m in trouble.” Roger’s gaze met Violet’s over the girl’s head, and his brown eyes were compassionate.

      “Very well,” he said, “but I do want to invite you to our teen group at the church. You will find a welcome there.”

      “I’m not so sure about that. Some of the teens who attend your church aren’t friendly here at school. I’ll continue to worship with Mrs. Grady. Very few young people go to that church, and I’m accepted by the adults.”

      The matter-of-fact way the girl talked about her ostracism crushed Violet. So much stoicism in a girl of that age wasn’t healthy. “If you won’t let Lieutenant Gibson take you home, I’ll walk with you and be sure you don’t have any more trouble. I want to see you home safely with your project.”

      Janie nodded assent, and Roger moved toward Misty’s project. “I still want you to join our teen group, Janie. Think about it.” The grim expression on his face indicated that he would have some stern words to say to the youth he counseled. “I’ll see you at church on Sunday, Violet.”

      Since he had bidden her goodbye in that manner, Violet didn’t expect to hear any more from Roger until Sunday, so it was with some surprise that she opened her door to him, still in uniform, Friday evening.

      He removed his hat. “I have something I need to ask you, Violet. Is it all right for me to come in?”

      Violet unlocked the storm door and motioned him inside. Obviously this wasn’t a social call. He twirled his hat around in his hands a time or two, and his demeanor puzzled Violet. She had never known Roger to be ill at ease.

      “Violet, do you know Linda Conley, an inmate in a correctional facility in Topeka, Kansas?”

      Roger’s face blurred, Violet’s hands fluttered nervously, and her body sank slowly toward the floor.

      Chapter Two

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