Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3)

by Patrick E. Craig

  Jeremy let out a breath. “Let me be sure I heard what you said, Richard. You want to buy Kerusso Publishing, bring it alongside Charis Records, and basically take over the Christian music and publishing markets. And you want me to run the publishing side?”

  “You got it.”

  “Why me?”

  “We like your style, and we like the focus you have on all things Amish. I’m not usually one to walk in the prophetic, but here’s what I see. You’ve had great interest in the Amish fiction novels you’ve published, and our research shows that they have done very well for you. Am I right?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “We’re convinced that you have your finger on the pulse of the next big market in Christian books. Two of your Amish books are doing really well, and we think you can do a lot more of the same. And we will put our money where our mouth is to back up that belief. So now…what do you think?”

  Jeremy was silent for a moment. “Well, it sounds really good. I’ve been wondering about the next step for Kerusso Publishing, and then here you come and drop it right in my lap.”

  “So you like the idea then?”

  “I think it’s a great idea, and the timing couldn’t be better. I’ve been working with an author for some time now. She’s the best writer I’ve come across in all the years I’ve been in the business. She’s brilliant, she’s deep, she’s funny, she’s beautiful, and most interesting of all, she’s Amish. With the right promotional backing, I think she could become one of America’s best-known authors.”

  “Has she published anything yet?”

  “Yes, we just put out her first book about three months ago. It’s called Dear Jenny. It’s a compendium of articles she wrote for some local papers around Lancaster. She began by just telling stories about her parents and growing up Amish in Ohio, but pretty soon people starting writing in with questions about the Amish lifestyle, so the column became known as “Dear Jenny.” Her name is Jenny Hershberger, and her book is starting to do very well regionally. And Dear Jenny doesn’t even begin to show what this lady can do. She is absolutely brilliant. Wait until you read some of the book.”

  “Jenny Hershberger…Jenny Hershberger,” Richard said. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “She’s getting some press right now. Maybe you read about her somewhere. My point is that she is also a great fiction writer. She has a book that I worked on with her. It’s the most amazing story about how she was rescued in the huge snowstorm that blew through Ohio in 1950. Nobody could find her parents, so an Amish family adopted her. Then years later it turned out that her mother was Amish. If I could get her to let me publish the book and then come out with a series, we might have some best sellers on our hands.”

  “Sounds like a really great story. You say it’s autobiographical?”

  “In an interesting way. She wrote it like a novel, but it’s a true story—a real tear-jerker.”

  “Jenny Hershberger…Sounds great! I’d like to meet her.”

  “If we can work out this proposal, you definitely will.”

  Jenny sat in the kitchen with the three men from her church. She was trying to stay calm, but her heart was beating hard inside her chest. The whole thing brought back memories of her meeting with Samuel Lapp and the tragedy that resulted. She didn’t want anything like that to happen again. Then Jonas Plank spoke up.

  “Mrs. Hershberger, we are aware of what happened with the former bisschop of Lancaster when you were in Ohio, and we deeply regret it. We believe your parents would still be alive if Samuel Lapp hadn’t interfered with your family. So first of all, we want to ask you to forgive us.”

  Jenny felt a slow sense of relief at his words. “Of course I forgive you. I’ve come to terms with everything that happened in Apple Creek. But there must also be another reason you have come here tonight.”

  “Ja, Jenny, there is.”

  He looked at the other men and then continued. “We don’t want you to be afraid. We have not come to bring discipline, but protection.”

  “Protection?”

  “Ja. We’re concerned about your well-being and your walk with the Lord.”

  “May I ask what brought this about?” Jenny asked.

  The second elder spoke up. “We obtained a copy of your book and read it, and we find it to be delightful.”

  “Delightful? But I thought you had come…”

  Jonas smiled. “To tell you we hated it? No, Jenny. It is wunderbar—quite charming. You give a true and accurate portrayal of the Amish life, and after talking it over, we have decided that it can only help the Amish community. You see, after the affair with Samuel Lapp, there was much misunderstanding about us among the Englisch around Lancaster. There were many accusations leveled at the Plain People because of the evil behavior of one man. It did us great harm. We want to live in peace with our neighbors, but many of them became suspicious of us. We were labeled as a cult by some.”

  “So how does my book help?”

  “We feel that your book gives a real insight into our lifestyle, especially your detailed discussions about the roots of our faith. You have a wonderful grasp of the history of the Amish, even before we came to America. Your words seem to brush away many misconceptions about us, and because of your book, people are beginning to realize that we are really not any different from anyone else. The tensions that Lapp created seem to be easing. Instead of seeing us as aloof and secretive, people see, through your book, that although we may have separated ourselves from the world, that doesn’t keep us from having our problems.”

  “So what is the concern?”

  “You are a widow, living with an Englischer…”

  “Bobby Halverson?”

  The three men looked at each other and then nodded.

  Jenny started to protest. “But he’s like a blood relative. He was my papa’s best friend—from the war. We’re not living…together! He lives on my farm!”

  Jonas smiled again. “Ja, we understand your relationship to Bobby Halverson. We also know that he is a good friend to the Amish. Bisschop Troyer in Wooster has nothing but the greatest respect for him. But there are many who do not understand a single woman living in what they see as questionable circumstances.”

  Jenny crossed her arms. “I’m not going to tell him to go away, if that’s what you are asking.”

  “No, of course not, Jenny. We’re not asking that.”

  Jonas looked to the others for reassurance. They nodded, so he continued.

  “Our concern…what we think…”

  He sighed and then got to the point. “We feel that you need a covering—a husband, to be specific. You’re still young, and there are many eligible bachelors who would want to court you if you were open to that. We just think with that kind of protection, the people of our district would be more inclined to support your writing and your Englisch friend. But without a husband, it’s easy for people to talk.”

  The old familiar irritation rose in Jenny. She did her best to control it because she saw that these men were not being judgmental, but caring. So she took a deep breath before she spoke.

  “I have not considered taking another husband. To be honest, I was offered marriage several years ago, but it was outside the faith, and I could not do it. And I don’t think the men of our district would want to court me if they really got to know me. I’m strong-willed and temperamental, and I know what I want. Not many men could put up with that.”

  “And it is for that reason we are most concerned, Jenny. The Bible tells us specifically that man was put as the head of the woman to prevent her from being deceived. And that is what we want to protect you from.”

  The whole conversation was becoming bittersweet to Jenny. She was beginning to feel anxious and hemmed in, so she compromised.

  “I will consider what you are saying and put it to prayer. If du leiber Gott has a husband for me, I will ask Him to show me who it is.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Beyond the V
eil

  RICHARD SANDBRIDGE SAT IN HIS office with a set of headphones on, listening to Nadine Carbone’s demo cassettes. The songs were all good, and two or three were simply outstanding. Deeny was a gifted lyricist and a terrific singer. She was an excellent addition to Cross & Crowne, but Richard could see her moving up to a solo career very soon. All she needed was time on the road to hone off some rough edges.

  Besides that, she’s really pretty.

  The light on his phone flashed, and he came back to reality. He stopped the tape, flipped off the headphones, and grabbed the receiver.

  “Yeah, Deborah?”

  “Jeremy King on line one.”

  Richard pressed the button. “Jeremy, how are you?”

  “Doing well, Richard, very well.”

  “So what have you decided about my offer?”

  “I talked it over with my employees, and they’re all for it, and I am too! I personally think it’s a great idea, and I’m ready to go with it. I just have a few questions about logistics. For instance, do you want us to relocate to New York? There are some other details too, but that is definitely the big question.”

  “That’s great, Jeremy! And, yes, we’ve already talked about the logistics. We decided if you want to stay in Lancaster, it would probably work. The drive is only two and a half hours. Of course, you’d have to come over here a few times a month to sit in on board meetings, but other than that, you would have pretty much free rein. I’m certainly not that tuned in to book publishing, so I won’t be micro-managing you. I do want to learn it, though, so I’d like to visit from time to time.”

  “Sounds good, Richard. When can we meet?”

  “Cross & Crowne are going back on the road in two weeks. I’ve got to get them in the studio to lay down some tracks, so we’ll probably have to wait until after they leave. I know this sounds like the old ‘hurry up and wait’ routine, but I have to get some new songs started with these guys or they’ll revolt on me.”

  “Perfectly fine, Richard. I’ve got some things I need to take care of here. Jenny Hershberger is starting to get some interest from some syndicators. There’s a possibility we’ll get her into some big papers in the Midwest—Ohio, Indiana, Illinois…you know, places with large Amish populations. So two weeks would work for me.”

  “Sounds good, Jeremy. I’ll call you in the middle of next week and we’ll set a time.”

  Richard hung up the phone and looked out the window of his penthouse office. Why does the name Jenny Hershberger sound so familiar to me?

  At four thirty, Deborah buzzed to tell Richard that Nadine Carbone was waiting to see him.

  “Send her in, Deb.”

  Deeny Carbone walked into Richard’s office. Richard could tell that she had taken extra care to look nice. She had on a sleeveless spring dress that was color coordinated with the large rose tattoo on her left shoulder, and she was wearing some slightly elevated shoes. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore just enough makeup to highlight her dark eyes and pretty features.

  “Hey, Deeny, what’s the occasion?”

  “I just came from rehearsal with the guys. It’s only a few blocks, so I thought I’d take a chance and come over. I’d really like to hear what you thought of my demo.”

  Deeny held her purse in both hands as though to hide behind it. Richard waved her to a chair.

  “Okay then…I’ve got some bad news and some good news.”

  Deeny looked perplexed. “What’s the bad news?”

  Richard smiled. “The bad news is that you have a few stylistic habits you’ve gotten into with your lyrics that I’d like to help you with. And I want to work on the dynamics you use when you’re singing. Your tendency is to over sing, and I think I can help you overcome that.”

  Deeny brightened. “If that’s the bad news, then what’s the good news?”

  “The good news is you have some terrific songs. I really like all of them, but there are two that I really love. I think we can build some of the more up-tempo ones into the Cross & Crowne set and record them with the group. But the two I really love, I want you to do solo. You can play keyboards and I’ll do the guitar tracks. We’ll get Johnny Burris in on bass and Eddie Cottrell on drums. Oh, and I’d like to get Kenny Wilson to do the horns.”

  “Richard, those guys are the best in the business! They must cost a fortune!”

  “It will be worth the expense. I think you have at least two hit records on your demo, maybe more.”

  Deeny sat in the chair for a minute staring at Richard. Then she put her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake.

  “What, Deeny? What is it?”

  Deeny composed herself, pulled a tisssue out of her purse, and dabbed her eyes.

  “Nobody whose opinion I trusted ever said my music was any good, and I’ve been writing since I was a kid. My dad used to say my songs were terrible. Of course, he was drunk most of the time, so I learned to take his ranting with a grain of salt.” Deeny flipped her hair back over her shoulder and dabbed her eyes again.

  “This whole music thing has been really hard. I had to work my way up in a cheesy club band that didn’t want to do originals. After I left them, I played the punk circuit for a couple of years, thinking I might get to showcase some of my tunes there. But the punk guys were bigger chauvinists than the club band, and they froze me out. When I met the Lord, the first thing that happened was getting this gig with Cross & Crowne. And they have been very noncommittal about my songs. So it’s really nice to have someone…I mean, someone like you to encourage me.”

  “It’s more than just encouragement, Deeny.” Richard knit his fingers together and leaned forward. “The songs are really, really good. And I love that you don’t compromise the message of the gospel. It’s built in and comes through loud and clear.”

  Deeny smiled at Richard. “Thank you, Richard. That really means a lot to me.”

  Richard took a closer look at Deeny. She really was a pretty girl. Long dark hair, dark eyes, a sweet mouth, and chiseled features made her a standout in any crowd. Richard took a chance.

  “Can I take you to an early dinner, Deeny?”

  Deeny hesitated and then nodded. “Sure. That would be nice, Richard. Thank you.”

  The Cornerstone Restaurant was more than just a place for an early dinner. It was a four-star New York eatery, and Deeny’s eyes widened when they stepped out of the cab.

  “Wow, the Cornerstone! I’ve always dreamed about eating here.”

  “Come on then, Deeny. It’s early, so we can probably get a table.”

  They went in, and the manager recognized Richard right away. “Mr. Sandbridge! Nice to see you! We have a table right over here for you and the young lady.”

  “Thanks, Max. This is Nadine Carbone. She’s a new writer I’m working with. You’ll be hearing from her soon. She has some wonderful songs.”

  Deeny smiled at Max and blushed. Richard was glad to see that underneath the girl singer facade, Deeny was tenderhearted.

  They ordered their dinner and chatted. Richard found Deeny to be bright, articulate, and funny. It wasn’t long before he was feeling very comfortable with her.

  “So after you left home, you traveled with the club band you were telling me about?”

  “That’s right. We played every sleazy dive up and down the East Coast. We traveled in an old Volkswagen bus and a Chevy van that carried our gear. We’d stop in a town and get two motel rooms—one for me and one for the guys. One guy slept in the van so the amps wouldn’t get stolen, and the other four guys tossed a coin for the beds. We played clubs where we would make a hundred dollars a night and dinner. Sometimes the owners wanted to pay us off in drugs. Back then it was okay. We were pretty out of it most of the time.”

  Richard visualized the band in their bus. I remember something about a Volkswagen. Did I own one once?

  Deeny interrupted his reverie. “What about you, Richard? You haven’t told me anything about yourself. Where do you come from
?”

  Richard smiled a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Deeny cocked her head. She had a puzzled expression on her face. “Excuse me…did you say you don’t know?”

  “That’s right. I don’t know where I’m from.”

  Richard stirred his coffee without speaking while Deeny waited. Finally she pressed him. “Are you going to tell me what that means, Richard?”

  Richard passed his hand in front of his eyes. An image came to him.

  Fire and water! Fire and water!

  “Not tonight, Deeny. Maybe another time.”

  Jenny Hershberger let the three elders out. She hadn’t exactly bowed to their wishes, but they all seemed to have come to a vague understanding. Jenny would pray about being open to finding a husband among the local men, and the elders of the church would give her suggestions concerning men they considered eligible from time to time. They said their goodnights, and then Jenny closed the door and leaned against it.

  I don’t want to get married…especially not to some oaf who will make a drudge out of me.

  She went to Rachel’s room, quietly opened the door, and peeked in. Rachel was sleeping, her head resting on the pillow and her long dark hair cascading around her beautiful face.

  I don’t need anyone else. I have my daughter to love me, I have Lem to help me, and I have Bobby to comfort me. That’s all I need.