A Quilt for Jenna

by Patrick E. Craig

  The big man rubbed his jaw as he slowly struggled to his knees. He looked around for a weapon. Reuben quickly stepped in with two powerful blows to his head, and the big man crumpled in a heap. He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Now, if I were you and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my short life getting the stuffing whipped out of me, I’d collect your pal and hit the road,” Reuben said as he stood over the fallen man.

  “Okay, okay, we’re going. But I never heard of no fightin’ Amish before.”

  “If I ever see you in this town again,” Reuben replied, “I’ll rewrite that notion on your thick skull. Now git!”

  The first man stood up shakily and walked over to his friend, who was just coming to. He gave him a kick in the leg and said, “Come on. Seems we’re not welcome here.”

  The second man dragged himself to his feet, and the two staggered away. Reuben returned to Jerusha’s side, took her arm, and helped her up.

  “There now,” he said softly, “all’s well.”

  Jerusha looked up and stared straight into Reuben’s eyes. Immediately she blushed and looked down, totally flustered by the turn of events. Her expression did not escape Reuben’s notice.

  “So, Miss Hershberger, do I really have that much of an effect on you?” he asked. “I must say, it’s encouraging and rather flattering.”

  “Well, thank you for your help,” she shot back, alternately flushing red and going pale. “But don’t give yourself airs. I was just attacked, and then I watched you beat the tar out of those men. How am I supposed to react?”

  “Oh, so I’m not so grand as I thought,” he said, chuckling. “Well, that’s fine. As for beating the tar out of those men, I’d do it twice over if it meant your safety.”

  “You’re a strange sort of a pacifist,” Jerusha said. “I’m not sure the elders would agree with you.”

  “Well, as you get to know me better, you might find that I have some...well, unorthodox views as far as the elders are concerned.”

  “What makes you think I want to know you better?” Jerusha asked. “I don’t even know you at all.”

  “But I would like to know you better,” Reuben said, “and if it takes thrashing a couple of thugs to get an introduction and win your admiration, then I’ll do what it takes.”

  Jerusha softened. “I’m sorry. After all, you did save me from an awful fate, I’m sure.” She blushed again and then said, “I probably should be going.” She took a few tentative steps toward the village.

  “Where to?” Reuben asked, falling in beside her.

  Jerusha tried to bring order back to her emotions. “Well, if it’s any of your business, I’m going to the store. I have to get some things and then go right home.”

  She managed a glance his way and took him in. At her grandmother’s funeral she had assumed he was in his teens, but now she saw that he was older, maybe twenty or twenty-one. Something about him seemed different from the boys who had tried to impress her in school or at the evening singings. He carried himself with an assurance that most of the boys lacked. She felt it both attractive and at the same time disconcerting.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asked quietly.

  “I have an Englisch friend in Wooster who’s in a boxing club, and he showed me a few things.”

  “But we aren’t supposed to be friends with the Englisch,” Jerusha said.

  “When I turned sixteen, my daed looked the other way at some of the things I wanted to find out about.”

  “Oh, running around,” said Jerusha. “Rumspringa.”

  “Well, I guess that’s the name for it,” Reuben answered, “but to me it’s just getting to know this wide world we live in a little better.”

  “Is that why you’re not married?” Jerusha asked.

  “That, and the fact that I’ve never seen a girl I was interested in,” he said. “That is, until I saw you.”

  Jerusha felt a strange falling sensation take hold of her. She found nothing to say as the two walked on in silence for a moment, and then Reuben took her arm and stopped her.

  “I don’t want you to think me too bold, but I want to ask your permission to talk to your father. I would like to court you,” he said quietly.

  Her thoughts swarmed through her head like bees, and then she heard herself say quietly, “All right, if that’s what you want.”

  And then she quickly turned and walked away from him toward the village.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Troubles

  WHEN JERUSHA ARRIVED HOME, she ran straight to her room, threw herself on her bed, and tried to quiet her emotions.

  Why did I tell him he could talk to Daed?

  The events of the day flooded in on her—the attack in the woods, Reuben appearing out of nowhere to save her, the beating he gave those men, her acquiescence to his request to speak to her father. It had all happened so fast, she barely had time to think. But now, alone in her room, she couldn’t help her mind from replaying it again and again.

  How did Reuben happen to be there at just the right time? Was he following me? He beat those men terribly. It should have made me sick, but it didn’t. Oh, Reuben, what am I supposed to do with you?

  Suddenly Jerusha’s life had become very complicated. Her simple childhood and the years she had spent by her grandmother’s side had all seemed so easy. Family, farmwork, and quilting had been her life. Now a whole new element had been thrust upon her in the person of Reuben Springer. She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

  Late the next afternoon, Jerusha’s father came in from his work. He cleaned up and then went to Jerusha’s door and knocked.

  “Jerusha, are you in there? I need to speak with you.”

  Jerusha opened the door slowly. “What is it, Daed?”

  “The Springer boy came to see me this morning.”

  So soon!

  “What did he want?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “He wants my permission to court you,” her father said. “I told him he could not.”

  Inwardly, Jerusha gave a sigh of relief. Controlling herself, she asked, “What reason did you give him?”

  “The Springer boy is a pleasant young man. He is older, and my understanding is that he is a hard worker. But I have heard stories about his adventures while he has been in rumspringa—drinking, fighting, dancing, and other activities that cannot be mentioned. It is said that he owns a car and keeps it in a garage somewhere in Wooster and that he has traveled as far as Akron and Indianapolis dressed as an Englischer.”

  “But many of the boys try out the things of the world during rumspringa,” Jerusha said. “Does that make him a bad person?”

  Her father frowned. “Nee, but the most important reason I won’t allow it is that although he is twenty-one, he has not been baptized or joined the church. This disqualifies him for marriage. I do not think he is right for you.”

  Jerusha found herself rising to Reuben’s defense. “But, Daed, Reuben was so kind to me at the funeral and he—”

  “Kindness isn’t the measure of a man, especially in our way of life. A man who has given his life to God through baptism and is faithful in the church is a man to be trusted. That is the sort of man I want for my daughter.”

  Before she could stop herself, Jerusha blurted out a biting response. “Shouldn’t I have something to say about who courts me?”

  The blank look in her daed’s eyes surprised Jerusha. The question she asked hadn’t even registered. “What?” he asked.

  Jerusha plucked up her courage and asked the question again. “Shouldn’t I be allowed some choice as to whom I may or may not marry?”

  This time she saw the anger rise her daed’s face. “You will do as I tell you, dochter,” he said curtly. “This is not a decision you need to concern yourself with.” And with that he turned and walked out of the room.

  A week passed, and Jerusha had become a silent guest in a quiet house. When her father asked her do
something, she answered with a simple “Ja, Daed,” but nothing more. She did her chores and worked on her current quilt, but she withdrew herself from the family life and spent more time in her room alone. How could her daed, with whom she had always been so close, treat her in such a demeaning way? On the one hand she was glad she could stop thinking about Reuben and put him behind her, and yet on the other hand she was miserable because her heart ached to see him again.

  Late one night she awoke to a tapping sound. Rousing herself, she went to the window. Reuben stood there with his fingers to his lips. “Come out,” he mouthed silently.

  She shook her head. “I can’t,” she mouthed back.

  “Please,” he said quietly, and the look in his eyes captured her heart.

  Throwing on her coat and her boots, she slipped silently out of her bedroom, through the sleeping house, and out the back door. Reuben was there waiting, motioning for her to keep silent and follow him. They walked silently and quickly through the barnyard to the back of the barn. Jerusha’s heart was pounding so furiously, she felt that it would wake the county.

  When they were far enough from the house, Reuben spoke. “Your father has refused to let me court you.”

  “I know,” she answered. “Actually, I think it’s probably for the...”

  Jerusha didn’t get the words out of her mouth before Reuben took her in his arms and kissed her, softly at first and then with passion. Jerusha felt herself slipping into a vortex, surrendering and sinking into him. Then suddenly she jerked away and slapped his face.

  “Stop!” she cried. “You have no right to touch me like that.”

  Reuben went white, and then she saw anger in his eyes. He stood staring at her, swaying for a moment in the moonlight, and then he mastered himself. He lowered his face to hide the flush of shame that suffused it.

  “I’m sorry, Jerusha.” It was the first time he had spoken her name, and the sound of it on his lips was like a balm to her rage.

  “You’re right, it’s not my place to be so...so familiar with you,” he said. “Forgive me. I can only excuse myself by saying that you have completely and wonderfully captured my heart, and to be away from you has tormented me. I am in love with you.”

  “But how can you know that you love me?” she asked. “We have only spoken two times.”

  “I don’t know, Jerusha, but if you can tell me honestly that you do not feel the same toward me, I’ll leave this town and never return.”

  There! It was out in the open, thrown down like a gauntlet.

  She stood silently for a long moment, and then she lowered her eyes and said softly, “Ja, I love you also.”

  Everything that had happened in her life up to that moment seemed to break off and go crashing down in a heap around her. Everything she had been, everything she had planned...all of it was turned into dust in the wonder of this moment.

  She wondered if she could ever turn back now from whatever should lie ahead.

  The wind struck Henry’s car, and shook it like a rag. Jerusha jerked awake in the back, still wrapped in the thin blanket. The memory of Reuben had been so strong that it took her a moment to realize where she was.

  Then the gravity of her situation gripped her once again and the now familiar rage rose in her heart. She began to scream uncontrollably.

  “God, if you mean to kill me, just kill me! I want to die! I have nothing left.”

  She collapsed, sobbing bitterly, on the seat. But her only answer was the howling wind and the snow piling up against the car.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Henry

  HENRY DIDN’T LIKE the looks of this storm. The temperature was below freezing, and the wind hurled the snow like needles against his skin. He was an Ohio farm boy and had been outside on many days like this, but today he was responsible for Missus Springer, and so he trudged on along Kidron Road.

  She’s a strange duck. Real pretty but so sad. She and Reuben used to be so friendly when Jenna was still alive.

  Henry remembered the Springer family as loving, happy, and very Amish. The Plain folk had been a part of Apple Creek since before his time, and having Amish folks around seemed as natural to Henry as fleas on a dog. Reuben had built a house on the Hershberger farm after he and Jerusha were married, just across the creek from Henry’s dad’s place, so Henry saw them almost every day. Reuben worked the farm with Jerusha’s dad and brothers, and sometimes he went to Wooster to help his own dad with his farm there.

  On those days Henry kept an eye on the house even though Reuben never asked him. He liked watching Jerusha with little Jenna. She would bring the baby out onto the porch and hold her and sing to her, or set her in a small cradle Reuben had made. Then she would work on her quilts. Jerusha was the best quilt maker in all of Wayne County even though she was a young woman. Her reputation was known even among the non-Amish folks in Apple Creek, and some of her quilts were on display in the big Amish store downtown.

  Reuben Springer was different from a lot of the Amish men Henry knew. The way Henry had heard it from town folk, Reuben had left Apple Creek for a long time, and nobody really knew where he had gone. The Amish folk never said anything to Henry about it, and his own folks didn’t really know much. The Amish were like that—closemouthed about their personal stuff. They were friendly enough, but they didn’t much like mixing with the “English” as they called them. Reuben had come back in 1944, and after about a year he married Jerusha. He was different from the old Reuben, folks said—quieter and more stable. Rumors floated around the village that he had been in the army and was wounded in battle, that he had even won a medal, but no one ever asked, and Reuben never talked about it. Reuben just reappeared one day, was baptized, and joined the Amish church. He was faithful and worked hard on the Springer farm. After a while, Jerusha’s father consented to Reuben courting her, and soon Reuben and Jerusha were married. It was as if Reuben had never been gone.

  Reuben liked Henry and had taken the boy under his wing, which was unusual for the Amish to do with outsiders. But Reuben had seen more of the world than he cared to talk about. Often after school, Henry would drop by and help Reuben, as he did when Reuben was building a new shed in back of the barn.

  Reuben would ask him about how he was doing with his studies and what he wanted to be when he grew up. He would talk to Henry about the Bible too, but Henry didn’t mind because Reuben didn’t beat him over the head with it. Henry would ask a question about something, and Reuben would tell him what the Bible said about that. Sometimes Reuben’s friend Bobby Halverson would be there too. They never said much when Henry was around, but he sensed a special bond between them even though Bobby too was “English.”

  Those were good times. I never knew anybody as happy as them folks, especially after Jenna was born. Seems like they was always laughin’, and they was real close. I guess that’s why they was so friendly to me—happiness just spilled out of them.

  Just then a gust of wind buffeted Henry and brought him out of his reverie. The snow was falling harder now, and he stopped and looked ahead. He could barely see six feet ahead of him. He pounded his arms against his body to take the chill off and stamped his feet to get his circulation going. The temperature had dropped since he and Jerusha had started out.

  The wind began to pick up. Henry slogged forward through the falling snow and turned his thoughts back to Reuben. Yeah, Reuben was different, but he was totally committed to the church. He didn’t want any part of the world, not even...

  Henry stopped the thought. It was too painful to think about little Jenna. She had been a beautiful girl, she was curious about everything and clearly smart.

  And she liked me. Still don’t know what she saw in a big dumb Buckeye like me. But we sure hit it off.

  Henry remembered the days he would come over after work to help Reuben and little Jenna would toddle out on the porch. “Henny, Henny,” she would call, holding out her arms.

  Henry would pick her up and lift her over his head. Jenn
a would scream with delight while Jerusha smiled at him warmly.

  “Touch the roof, Jenna,” Henry would say, and Jenna would reach up in the tall boy’s arms and touch the porch roof with her chubby little hands.

  “Up again, Henny,” she would say, and Henry would lift her up to touch the roof again.

  She would have kept me out there all night touchin’ the roof. She was such a sweet little thing.

  The memory touched a not-quite-healed place in his heart.

  Mr. Hershberger, Jenna’s grandfather, doted on her and made excuses to come by often after his chores were done just to sit on the Springer porch at sundown with little Jenna curled up in his arms, listening to the songbirds in the Buckeye trees.

  Jenna would lay still with her hand touching her grandfather’s beard and her little thumb in her mouth. Henry often found the two of them sitting still on the porch, Grandpa sound asleep with the little girl in his arms. She would smile at Henry as she cuddled against her grandfather and softly stroked his beard.

  She was like a ray of sunshine even on the darkest days.

  When he was at the Springer house, Henry sometimes asked Reuben why the Amish were the way they were.

  “You know, Henry,” Reuben would say, “I’ve seen both sides of life—the Englisch way and the Amish way, and believe me, the Amish way is best. I didn’t always think so, but I’ve seen some pretty horrible things out there, things that are born out of love for the world and for the power the world offers. If you’d have seen what I’ve seen, you’d know why I believe that the way of peace is the best way.”

  Henry trudged on through the snow. He hadn’t seen a car since he started, but the storm was fierce and Kidron was a back road, so it made sense that people wouldn’t be out. This was a pretty desolate part of the county, so Henry hadn’t expected to see much traffic. His had been the only car on the road when they left Apple Creek.