Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (7 page)

T
HE MONTHS FOLLOWING THE DISASTER
passed in a blur. Jenny had much to do to keep the farm going, and the sheer weight of her responsibilities kept her days in order. Lem helped her, as did other members of their community, and with taking care of Rachel, planting, and caring for the livestock, there was enough to do to keep her mind occupied while the sun was up.

It was the night that she feared—that time when the darkness closed in on her spirit as she lay alone in her cold bed. Images of Jonathan and impressions of their life together drifted in and out of the restlessness of her half-sleep—his wonderful smile, the feeling of his strong arms around her, the look of love in his eyes. But then the sweet memories were joined by terrible visions of Jonathan wrapped in flames or thrashing desperately in the water, his eyes locked on hers, his lips forming her name—“Jenny! Jenny!”—as he disappeared into the swirling maelstrom that sucked him down, down…

The awful visions rushed at her out of the darkness like furious demons. Sometimes she lay at the edge of consciousness, knowing she needed to wake up but helpless to move while the apparitions swirled
and danced before her. Then with a tremendous effort of her will, she shuddered awake as a scream pushed its way out of her throat. Mornings finally arrived with the sheets damp from night sweats and her mind and body utterly exhausted.

Little Rachel couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that her papa was gone. Every morning she would bounce into Jenny’s room with a look of anticipation on her face, just as she had done since she learned to walk. She would stop at the foot of the bed and look wistfully at the empty place beside her mama.

“Where’s Papa?”

Each time it happened, Jenny’s heart broke.

“Papa’s in heaven, darling. Don’t you remember?”

“But why did Papa go to heaven? Didn’t he like it here with us?”

Then Jenny would lift her daughter up on the bed and pull her close.

“I don’t think Papa chose to go to heaven right now. I know that he loved us more than anything and that it would be very hard for him to leave us. But when
der Gott, der klug ist
decides it is our time to come be with Him, then we must go.”

“But I miss my papa! Why did God tell him to come to heaven?”

Jenny had to search her own heart every time she had this conversation with her little one.

“I don’t know, Rachel,” she replied truthfully. “I have asked
du lieber Gott
so many times since Papa went away, but I have never received an answer.”

Rachel snuffled against Jenny’s shoulder. “But I miss Papa. Why would
Gott
want me to be sad?”

Jenny pulled Rachel closer and almost shouted aloud, but she kept it in her heart.
Rachel’s right. Warum w
ürden Sie wollen, dass ich jäm
merlich war?

The days had crept into weeks, and then it was the end of August. Harvest was in full swing, but there was no joy in it for Jenny. Instead she felt that being in the home that once brought joy to her heart was beginning to wear at her like the tiny drops of water that fall silently on a great stone until finally nothing is left but tiny grains of sand. She could no longer sit in the kitchen—where Jonathan’s laughter had once rang out—without weeping. The touch of the quilt her mama made for their wedding no longer brought joy, only melancholy.

In September a difficult truth became apparent to Jenny, and at last she reconciled herself to the reality that she must leave Paradise. One morning she sat down and wrote a short letter to her mother.

When the letter was written, Jenny quickly folded it and pushed it into an envelope. Then she walked down the lane to the mailbox. She reached for the handle and then paused. Everything came rushing in on her.

In my heart I’ve held on to hope that Jonathan may still be alive. If I send this letter, I’m admitting he is dead and my life here in Paradise is over. Oh, Jonathan! I want to be true to you, but I can’t walk this road alone anymore. I have to go home
—
home to Apple Creek. Goodbye, my love.

Then the grief that had remained hidden in a deep recess inside her came like a flood, and Jenny leaned against the mailbox and cried. After a while, she opened the box and placed the letter inside. The closing of the wooden door was like a coffin lid slamming shut.

In a week the answer came.

Later that day, Lem dropped by to tell her how everything was going. They sat together in the kitchen and drank hot cups of coffee while he talked.

“Potatoes are good this year, we have good corn, the beans and tomatoes have done well, and the cows are producing much
milch
.”

Jenny listened while Lem shared, and then she spoke quietly to him.

“Lem, I’ve written my mama, and she has invited us to come live with them for a season. I don’t want to leave Paradise and the farm, but my heart is heavy, and I need to go home to Apple Creek. I will stay until the crops are in and we’ve finished putting up the winter food and sold the rest to the market. Then I will go. I know you count on me to do the books, and I will take care of that this year. But I’m putting the farm in your hands. I haven’t decided what to do with it yet, but if I decide to sell, I will only sell to you.”

She could see he was crestfallen.

“I would love to have the farm,” he replied. “But more than that, I want you to stay. This is your home now, and we love you and Rachel. If you go, this house will be without life.”

“Lem, you are my mother’s cousin, my closest blood kin. When I came home, you took me into your heart and have been like a brother to me. I love you too, and I will miss you. But without Jonathan, I’m withering away. I can’t stay here.”

And so it was decided. Jenny and Rachel would stay until the harvest was in, and then they would go. When the decision was made, it seemed like the memories returned in full force. Not only the
wunderbar
years spent here but even the earliest memories of Jonathan came in like a flood.

Jenny remembered the day they had met. She had been standing on the corner across the street from the Wooster library, lost in thoughts about her birth mother. Without looking at the light, Jenny stepped off the curb. She didn’t see the vehicle making a right turn onto Walnut Street from Liberty. The driver honked his horn and swerved to avoid her. The van screeched to a halt, rammed one of its tires into the curb she had just been standing on, and lurched partway up onto the sidewalk. The driver leaned out the window and yelled at her. “Hey, watch where you’re going! I almost hit you!”

“Well, if I remember correctly, pedestrians have the right of way!” Jenny called back.

“Yeah, they do if the light is in their favor,” he said, pointing toward the signal.

The right turn signal was green. Jenny flushed with embarrassment and started to walk away.

“Wait!”

He opened the door and got out. Jenny stopped and looked at the driver. He was tall and trim, and his long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a leather jacket with fringe hanging down,
bell-bottom jeans, and some kind of green boots. He was very good looking, but his most striking feature was his eyes. They were deep sea-blue, just like her papa’s, and she could see a hint of a smile behind them. She felt herself drawn into those eyes and had to pull herself back with a start.

His eyes, they were just like Papa’s!

The young man had stared at her
kappe
. His eyes traveled down, taking in her face, her plain wool coat with the hooks instead of a zipper, and then the high-top laced shoes. Finally he spoke.

“Excuse me…are you in a play or something?”

“What?” Jenny asked.

“A play. You’re dressed like you’re in a play.”

“Right,” Jenny retorted, feeling both a blush and an irritation rising up within her. “I’m one of the starving pilgrims and you must be Squanto, the Indian who saves us. But wait! The Indians didn’t wear green boots and clown suits or drive decorated trucks, so you must be one of those beatniks. But I don’t remember any beatniks at the first Thanksgiving, so I guess you’re not in the play…”

Jenny smiled at the recollection.

I was so mean to him. He was driving that silly van and wearing that…that outfit. He thought
I
looked funny.

After the smile came the tears.

Now the buggy carried them away to the train station, where they would climb aboard and wave goodbye to Lem. The train would carry them over the hills and mountains to Apple Creek, but the whistle wouldn’t be the paean of joy that had summoned Jenny to her new home ten years earlier. Instead it would be the keening of a mourner, following her away, to be lost at last in the chill autumn wind.

As she looked at Paradise for the last time, she turned her thoughts
toward home, toward Apple Creek. Jerusha would be waiting at the station with her papa. Reuben would take her in his arms and hold her close while Mama fussed over Rachel. Then she would be in her mama’s arms, and if ever comfort was to be found again in Jenny’s life, she would find it there in the beating of Jerusha’s heart.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

Safe Haven

J
ERUSHA
S
PRINGER STOOD ON THE
platform at the Depot Street station in Apple Creek, Ohio, glancing down the tracks to the east. Reuben stood beside her with his arm on her shoulder.

“Looking won’t make her come any sooner, wife.”

“I know, Reuben, but my heart is anxious for our poor girl. I’m so glad she’s coming home. Her letter was so sad. She’s heartbroken.”