Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3)

by Patrick E. Craig

  “But what about Jonathan?” Jenny asked, twisting her hands in her apron.

  “Ma’am, they wouldn’t have even known about him except that the Hershbergers’ housekeeper told the local police that the Hershbergers had taken their son, Jonathan, with them. She said it was a surprise for him that his parents planned. The housekeeper told the police Jonathan had come from Paradise, Pennsylvania, and he was a member of the Amish church here. Local officers contacted us, and we’ve been looking for you since Wednesday. It wasn’t easy to find you without a phone.”

  Jenny suddenly felt her knees almost give way. She grabbed the doorframe to hold herself up. The state trooper stepped forward and took her arm.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “I need to sit down,” Jenny said. “Please come in.”

  They went into the front room, and Jenny sank down onto the couch. The two troopers looked at her with concern in their eyes.

  “Have they found anything?” Jenny asked. “I mean, what’s happening with the search?”

  “As of now, the Coast Guard has nothing to report,” the first officer said. “A storm moved through the area, and it was difficult for the rescue teams to even get out to where they presumed the Mistral was. As of last night they hadn’t found anything.”

  Jenny sat on the couch, her mind reeling and her heart pounding. Her whole body felt numb, and the troopers seemed to be talking to her from a long way away.

  I knew something would happen. You showed me. I should have screamed and begged and held onto him and never let him go.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  Jenny looked up at them, and then she burst into tears. “I told him not to go. I begged him. I just knew…” Then sobs overcame her, and she could speak no more.

  It was Sunday afternoon. Jenny sat at the kitchen table staring into space. She had sent Rachel outside to play earlier. As she buttoned her daughter’s coat, Rachel touched her mama’s face.

  “I’ve been praying for Papa,” she said.

  Jenny pulled her daughter into a long hug and then brushed an errant curl back from Rachel’s forehead.

  “I know you have, my darling, and I have too,” Jenny said, “Now we must put Papa in the Lord’s hands.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said, bounding out the door.

  Now Jenny sat numbly in the kitchen, thinking. I’ve been praying and praying. Will You answer me, Lord? Will You bring my husband back?

  Just then Jenny heard footsteps coming across the front porch and Lem’s voice calling her.

  “Jenny! Jenny!”

  Jenny jumped up and ran to the front door, thrusting it open.

  “Lem! What is it?”

  “They found a raft, Jenny. There was one survivor from the Mistral.”

  Jenny’s heart leaped into her throat. “Jonathan?”

  “I don’t know, Jenny. All I got was a message from the state police saying that one survivor had been found on a raft.”

  “How can we find out? Oh, Lem, I have to know!”

  “I asked Karen Jamison—you know, the owner of the store—if she could have her son come out and take us into Lancaster. He was making deliveries for her, so he’ll be here in about an hour.”

  “Oh, Lem, it has to be Jonathan, it just has to.” Jenny burst into sobs.

  Two hours later, Jenny and Lem were in the office of Sergeant Mike Johnson of the state police. He was going over a file. Finally he looked up. Jenny felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

  “What can you tell us, Sergeant?” Lem asked.

  “All I have so far is that there is one survivor. He was found on an Avon raft, but he was far to the north of where the rescue teams were searching. It seems that one of the Coast Guard planes was called back to look for some other missing boats near the New Jersey shore, and the pilot flew north and west to get there. As he looked, he spotted the raft about a mile off the coast. They thought the raft was from another boat, but the cutter that went out radioed in that the raft had Mistral stenciled on it and that there was one survivor aboard. That’s all we know.”

  “Can we wait here until you hear more?” Jenny asked.

  “Sure, Mrs. Hershberger. We have a break room just down the hall, and there’s a cafeteria if you’re hungry.”

  Jenny and Lem left the sergeant’s office and walked down the hall. Lem had his arm around Jenny protectively, but they didn’t speak. The past several days had taken their toll, and Jenny was ready to collapse from the strain.

  “Lem, if it’s not Jonathan…what will I do?”

  “Let’s just take it one step at a time, Jenny. Let’s think the best and not the worst. I’m trusting unser liebender Gott to bring Jonathan home. So let’s just rest in Him and pray.”

  Jenny and Lem sat in silence in the break room drinking coffee Lem had gotten from the cafeteria. Jenny alternated between great leaps of hope and horrible plunges into despair.

  I’ve got to know, Lord. One way or the other, I’ve got to know. This waiting is killing me.

  After what seemed an eternity, a girl came into the room, saw Jenny and Lem, and came over. “Mrs. Hershberger?”

  “Yes…”

  “Would you come with me, please? Sergeant Johnson has some news concerning your husband.”

  Jenny looked at Lem. “Oh, Lem…”

  “All right, Jenny, let’s go find out.”

  They walked into Sergeant Johnson’s office. The trooper looked up at them.

  “Please sit down, Mrs. Hershberger,” the sergeant said as he pointed to the chair opposite him.

  “What is it, Sergeant?” Jenny asked as she sat down.

  Sergeant Johnson looked down at a piece of paper in front of him and then back at Jenny.

  “This just came in on our teletype,” he said.

  He paused and then went on. “The man they found is a black man named Gerald Sanders. He was Mr. Ronald Hershberger’s caretaker and valet. He’s in a hospital in Atlantic City. From this report, Mr. Sanders is sure there were no other survivors.”

  Jenny gasped and buried her face in her hands as the sobs came without restraint.

  Three days later, Jenny sat in a hospital room in New Jersey with Gerald Sanders. He had a bandage around his head, and his right arm was in a sling. He turned his head and looked out the window when Jenny asked him about Jonathan.

  “Like I said, Mrs. Hershberger, I’m certain no one else got off the boat. I was down in the galley cleaning up. The last time I saw Mr. Hershberger and his son, they were in the dining room. They had finished their breakfast and were talking. There was a storm coming up and it was getting pretty rough, so I cleaned all the plates off the table and took them below. I had just finished doing the dishes when there was a terrible thump and the boat skewed to the right. I went out on the aft deck to see what was happening, and then there was a big bang and the boat lurched over on its side. I tried to get up to see what was happening but something else blew and there was a big ball of fire that went right up through the dining room and the wheelhouse. The boat just came apart in the middle.”

  Gerald took a deep breath and passed his hand over his eyes.

  “Stuff was flying all over. A piece of the boat hit me on the side of my head, and then something smashed into my arm. I was still on the back half of the boat, and there was an Avon up on the wall, so I pulled it off with my good arm and jerked the inflator. I pushed it over the side and climbed in just as the boat went down. There was stuff all over the place…and then the waves just swept me away. Right after I got into the raft, I passed out. When I woke up, it was dark and I was freezing cold and soaked. I tried to get the Avon cover on, but I couldn’t manage it, so I just rolled up in it and waited. They say I was out there four days, but I don’t really know.”

  “And…my husband?”

  “The last I knew, he was still in the dining room with his father. That fireball went right up through there. I’m sure they…I don’t think they could have made it, ma’am.
”

  Gerald paused and then looked back at Jenny.

  “I’m awful sorry about Mr. Jonathan, ma’am. He was a nice young man.”

  Jenny looked out the window, but she didn’t see the plum tree with its pink blossoms. She didn’t see the lawn or the street with cars going back and forth. All she saw was a long black tunnel with no light at the end, and she knew she was seeing her future—a future that she would walk without her beloved Jonathan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dark Days

  THE 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 würden Sie wollen, dass ich jämmerlich 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.

  Dearest Mama,

  Since Jonathan has gone, it has become plain to me that being here in Paradise without him is killing me just as surely as if I had taken poison. I need to be in a place of love and hope. I need to feel Papa’s arms around me. I need to lean against your breast and hear the strong beating heart that carried me through the storm so many years ago and that (aside from Jonathan’s love) has always been my surest place of refuge.

  May I come home?

  Jenny

  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.

  Dearest Jenny,

  You and Rachel have a home with us for as long as you want. Your papa and I want you to come as soon as you can so you will arrive in time for the holidays. I know it may be hard without Jonathan, but you will be with us, and we will love you both through the hard times. We are waiting for you with open arms.

  Mama

  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.