A Quilt for Jenna

by Patrick E. Craig

  When Reuben came home from the war he was different, and You tried to show me. I should have listened...

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Johnny Comes Marching Home

  REUBEN WAS DIFFERENT AFTER THE WAR. He had been home four months before he came to Jerusha’s house one evening in June of 1943. He looked the same; he had the same flashing smile, the same strong, symmetrical face framed in dark hair, the same deep violet eyes. But something about him puzzled Jerusha. It wasn’t on the outside, like his physical wounds. No, this was something else. And whatever it was, he had seemed to build a wall around it as if to hide it. But Jerusha saw it—not clearly at first, but later, when they were together more often—and she began to be troubled by it.

  When Reuben had first come home, he went straight to his father’s house and asked forgiveness for the things he had done to offend the community. He said he wanted to come back to the faith. After consultation with the elders, the family decided that Reuben would have a probation period to see if his heart was really true. Because he had deviated so fully from the ordnung, they had come to consider him as an outsider. The elders told Reuben he was to live among the Amish for an extended period and demonstrate a genuine conversion and faith that resulted in a changed lifestyle before he could be baptized. He meekly submitted.

  She heard from his friends that he had been terribly wounded in battle and that he had been in the hospital in Hawaii for five months before the Marines discharged him and sent him home in February of 1943. That he made no effort to contact her for several months was hurtful to her, and she said so to her father.

  “Was er tut, ist gut,” said her father. “He has returned to the fold, but he has seen much. It will take him time to come back to our ways. He is forgiven of course, but before he can enter into the community, we must be sure of him. Even if he were to come today and ask, I would not let him court you. Aber er hat verstand. He is wise. He will come at the right time and in the proper way.”

  So Jerusha waited patiently for Reuben to come to her even though she longed to see him, to hold him and show him that she loved him as deeply as ever. The days went by so slowly as she waited. For the first time in her life she had to force herself to sit down at the quilting frame and work, and her heart wasn’t in it. At night she would lay on her bed and stare at the ceiling until finally she drifted off, exhausted.

  Eventually Reuben did contact Jerusha, but not directly. He sent a schteekliman, one of the deacons, who came secretly to the Hershberger home to obtain the consent of her parents for Reuben to court her. It pleased Jerusha’s father that Reuben was following the ordnung so faithfully, but it puzzled Jerusha.

  He was so independent when we met. That was one of the qualities that drew me to him. He used to say that following the rules and regulations was hypocritical if you thought they were old-fashioned and meaningless. And now he’s going along with all of them.

  The day that Reuben finally came to the Hershberger home, he didn’t see Jerusha alone. Her parents were there as well as two of her brothers. Reuben was formal, even somewhat distant, though he was charming and seemed pleased to be there.

  This is not like we were before he went to the war, Jerusha thought as she sat across the table from him.

  She remembered the night she lay in Reuben’s arms in front of the fire in the old Jepson place. Reuben had left a note for her, begging her to meet him. She had slipped out of the house and met him at the head of the lane that led to her house. He was driving an old pickup truck. She had been shocked to see how different he looked. His hair was shorter, and he was not wearing traditional Amish garb. They had driven toward Dalton and then turned off on a lane that Jerusha realized led out past Jepsons’ Pond to the old cabin. When they got there, he built a fire with some wood that had been left there, and then he had taken her in his arms and kissed her. And then he told her that he had decided to enlist in the Marines and go to war.

  She could see that he had gone far away from the faith, that he had set his life on a path that would probably take him out of her life forever. And yet as she looked at him while he talked, the deep love she had for him almost broke her. He had begged her again to leave Apple Creek and go with him. And truth be told, she desperately wanted to go with him and be his wife and never be apart from him again. It was only the deep roots of her faith and her love for a God who had walked by her side all her life that held her back. As she listened to him pour out his heart, she knew she was in danger of leaving all that she loved behind to follow this man.

  But she could not, and she told Reuben so. Then they had gathered their things, and he drove her home in his forbidden truck. Then he was gone.

  And now he was back, sitting across from her, smiling, charming her parents, and being the old Reuben—almost. It took everything in Jerusha to keep from leaping up and throwing herself into his arms. Instead she sat and drank in his face. He was so handsome with his dark hair and strong features. Above his forehead, just under the hairline, she could see a scar, still red and healing. He moved his arm stiffly as though it caused him pain. But the biggest change was in his eyes.

  When she looked into his eyes, past the violet and into the soul, she saw a dark pit of sorrow so deep that it sucked up and swallowed all joy. The smile that had lived behind his eyes was gone. In that moment she could see how terribly he had changed. Still, her love for him allowed her to overlook the pain. This was Reuben. He was back, and he was going to join the church and court her. That was all that mattered.

  Their courtship was to stay a secret to the rest of the community, but in a short while, word had spread that Jerusha and Reuben were a couple, especially after Jerusha’s mother planted a large bed of celery. Celery was an important part of Amish weddings, and this was an open announcement to the Amish in Apple Creek that Jerusha’s family was planning one.

  Reuben kept everything formal and followed the rules of courtship. They met at the Sunday evening singings or after church meetings and talked, and then they agreed to meet at another event or at her parents’ home. Because they were both in their twenties and had never been married, they often found themselves in the company of the younger members of the community. Reuben was so much older in all his ways, and the issues that seemed so important to the young people were often so trivial to him and Jerusha that they both felt awkward. While the teenagers chattered on about rumspringa or their part-time jobs or which of them were serious about one of the others in the group, Jerusha and Reuben sat quietly and smiled awkwardly at each other. Jerusha found herself secretly longing for the days when they had met together without all the ritual and formality, when Reuben would open his heart and share the things he knew about the world, about music and art and history.

  She remembered sitting at his feet while he spoke of such things, and the power of his speech and the depth of his understanding would overmaster her, and she would be drawn into the strange, wonderful, and yet terrifying world that existed outside the confines of Apple Creek. She had come away from those times together in awe of him, and even though part of her told her that it was wrong to listen to him and by doing so, involve herself in the world, his wisdom and knowledge were a great part of who he was, and knowing that about him somehow bound her more closely to him.

  Once she had asked him about the war, and he looked at her with a cold fire in his eyes and forbade her to ever ask him about it again. Rumors floated about that Reuben had gotten a medal for bravery in the war, but Reuben never said a word about it.

  The courtship continued for three months. One day Jerusha’s father came to her and told her that Reuben had asked formal permission to marry her.

  “I have watched him,” he told her, “and I would be pleased to have him for a son. His life reflects the change he has made, and the elders have agreed to baptize him. After that, we will publish your agreement to the community.”

  Jerusha listened quietly with mixed emotions. She felt joy, but also something els
e—a gnawing uneasiness about Reuben. He was simply a different man now.

  “You do not seem as joyful as I would expect, dochter.”

  “It’s nothing, Daed,” she said. “I love Reuben, and I will be glad to be his wife. I’m only thinking about the things he’s suffered, and I hope my love will bring healing to his heart.”

  “Ja, das ist gut, meine dochter,” said her father. “Reuben has been where we Amish fear to go, for it stands in the face of everything we hold to be true. I have never been in a situation that forced me to choose my faith over my family’s safety, or that of a friend, so I cannot see into his heart, but this I know. Jesus commanded us not to kill because it leaves a scar on the very soul of a man. Reuben carries those scars, and they will change him, maybe for good, maybe not. The best thing is that he has returned to our ways, and there is healing for him in that. Be a good wife to him, Jerusha. Give him children and be his helpmeet. He may never forget what he has been through, but with your help, perhaps he can put it aside and get on with his life.”

  Jerusha hesitated for a moment and then said, “Daed, you don’t know Reuben as well as I do, so you can’t see how much he’s changed. But I see it. I do want to be his wife, and yet sometimes I think he’s not the man I fell in love with. It’s as though a stranger came home from the war.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Always before, there was a part of Reuben that took joy in life. Even when he looked stern there was a smile behind his eyes. That smile is gone. And so is the joy, and that frightens me. It’s as though the piece of Reuben that makes him whole and happy died in the war. And now he’s built a wall to hide the empty place where his heart used to be. I’m afraid that I may use my love to help him break down that wall and find that the darkness there kills my love too.”

  Jerusha looked at her father.

  “That’s why I may not seem so joyful when you tell me we can marry. It’s that I’m afraid. Afraid I may not have enough love in me to heal him, afraid that I may not be strong enough to be his helpmeet when the trials come. A little voice inside me says, ‘Wait, wait,’ and I tremble when I hear it. And yet I’m so desperately in love with him. I just want to be with him forever.”

  Suddenly Jerusha burst into tears. Her father looked at her for a moment and then gently took her into his arms.

  “My beloved dochter,” he said quietly. “I have watched you grow from a precocious child into a woman of strength and faith. I don’t know what lies before you in this union, but I do know this. I trust that you are strong enough and loving enough to walk through any trial as long as you continue to place your trust in the Lord and follow Him. We can’t control the things that happen to us in our lives. We just trust that all things work together for our good. Reuben has returned to the fold, and he has placed himself under the ordnung again. You are a strong woman. With these things to help him, I believe Reuben can be a good husband and, with God’s blessing, a good father. I am not a woman, but I know that every woman must work through such questions when she is to be married. Trust me in this, Jerusha, trust the Lord, and be a wife to this good man.”

  Jerusha stood in the strong circle of her father’s arms and felt a peace flood her soul. Surely God had spoken to her through her daed.

  “I will marry him, Daed, and I’ll help him to live in the present and put the war and all the terrible things he saw behind him,” she said quietly.

  “Gut,” he said. “Then you may marry in November, after the harvest.”

  Jerusha’s heart sank within her as she lay in the dark cabin.

  I should have listened to my heart and waited. Reuben was so bound up, but I just ignored the warning signs. I should never have married him.

  And then Jerusha heard the voice, the one that reminded her of her daed, but deeper and more peaceful.

  “But then you never would have known Jenna, dochter.”

  “What good did it do me to give birth to Jenna!” she cried aloud. “The pain of losing her was too much to bear. If I had not married Reuben, I would be happy now, and I wouldn’t have these scars on my heart. There would be no Jenna to long for, no Reuben to be bound to.”

  Jerusha began to cry again.

  Just then the little girl woke up. She looked up at Jerusha, and then her little arms stole around Jerusha’s neck and she pulled Jerusha close. In her half-sleep she spoke.

  “Don’t be sad, Mama. Please don’t cry.”

  Jerusha looked down at the little face, and her heart melted.

  What’s happening to me? Why did you send me this little one?

  “To comfort you, dochter, to comfort you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Reunion

  BOBBY HALVERSON WENT OUT to the shed behind his parents’ house. His dad had fired up a kerosene heater, and the shed was much warmer inside than it was outside.

  He checked the electrical connections to the glow plugs to make sure they were seated properly and then got into the cab and fired up the diesel engine. He let it run for a few minutes until it was warm and the heater had taken the chill off the inside of the cab.

  While he was sitting there waiting, he did something that both surprised him and made him a bit uncomfortable. He bowed his head and prayed out loud.

  “Lord, if Jerusha is still alive out there somewhere, will You please help me to find her? Give me strength for this day and a clear head so I can do what I need to do. Thank you...uh, amen.”

  Bobby looked around to see if anyone had seen him praying and then thought better of it.

  So what if I prayed? I need all the help I can get.

  He pulled the flaps on his woolen cap down over his ears and headed out. The wind was howling, and the snow was piled two feet high around the Halverson house. As he pulled out of the shed, he saw his dad coming across the yard. He leaned out of the cab as his dad called up to him.

  “Do you know where you’re going to start?” he hollered over the wind.

  “I think I’ll go by the Springer house again to see if she got home somehow,” Bobby yelled. “If she’s not there, I’m going to run by the sheriff’s office and let him know what’s going on and see if he’s got any extra men who can help me look. Then I’ll go back out to Kidron and see what I can find, maybe go by Mark’s and see if he’s seen or heard anything. I’ll stop by Dutch’s place before I head out toward Dalton and get some fuel.”

  “Okay, son,” his dad yelled. “Get number one fuel, not number two. It’s more volatile and burns hotter. Be safe out there. Your mother and I will be praying for you.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”

  For some strange reason, the fact that his parents would be praying made him feel better. Then he had a thought that he spoke aloud.

  “God, I forgot. Would You please let Reuben know somehow that Jerusha’s in trouble and send him home? Thanks.”

  This must be what they call shotgun prayers. I’m just firing them off and hoping someone hears me.

  Fifteen minutes later, Bobby pulled into the lane that led down to the Springer home. It was just beginning to get light. The snow had drifted across the road, and there were no car tracks leading to the house. He pulled up in front, idled the engine, and got down to look around. The house was dreary and dark, and snow was heaped on the front porch. The windows, dark and blank, stared back at him like dead eyes. Whatever life had once been in this house was gone.

  Just as he was ready to turn back, he noticed something. Prints in the snow. But whose? He could see a recent single set of tracks lead up from the side of the porch and to the front door. Then they turned and went back toward the Lowensteins’ next door.

  Bobby jumped down and hurried across the bridge to the Lowenstein’s place and banged on the door. After a few minutes Hank came to the door.

  “Bobby!” he exclaimed. “Come in, come in!”

  “Thanks. I guess you heard about Henry. He’s at Doc Samuels’.”

  “Yes, we did hear.
He’s going to be all right,” Hank said.

  “Then you know his story? He crashed the car on Kidron Road and was walking into town to get help when a windblown tree limb hit him and knocked him cold.”

  “We heard. We’re hoping the weather clears enough for us to get over there. But what about Jerusha?” asked Hank.

  “She’s still missing. By the time I got Henry to tell me where the car was and Mark and I got over there, Jerusha was gone. Either she tried to walk out or someone came by to help her. The wind had blown any tracks away, so that didn’t help. I came by here hoping she might have made it home somehow.”

  “No, we haven’t seen any sign of life over there.”

  “I saw a set of footprints leading here and I wondered whose they might be. I was hoping maybe Reuben came home.”

  “Those were my tracks,” Hank said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I got up an hour ago and went over to the Springer’s to see if Jerusha was back. The house was dark, and no one has been there.”

  “Okay, Hank, thanks. I’ll be on my way. As my dad says, ‘I’m wasting daylight.’”

  “You be extra careful out there today, Bobby. I’ve never seen a storm like this one, and it’s going to get worse today before it gets better. Martha and I will be praying for you.”

  Bobby turned and walked back to the tractor.

  Why is everyone praying for me all of a sudden? Even I’m praying. I thought I didn’t believe in God. At least that’s what I told Reuben.

  Bobby was mustered out of the Marines with a medical discharge, a Purple Heart, and a Silver Star for his part in the Battle of the Ridge. He left Hawaii about a month before Reuben and arrived in Apple Creek at a loss as to what to do with his life.