A Quilt for Jenna

by Patrick E. Craig

  Of course there was a flurry of activity when he came home. He was made over and welcomed back by his friends, and clucked over by his folks. The local VFW even put on a dinner for the returning hero, but within a few weeks all the attention died down, and he was just plain old Bobby Halverson again. He got hired to work at his old job, moved in with his folks, and even started going back to his favorite bar in Wooster, but somehow his life wasn’t the same as he had left it. His dad saw him moping about the house one weekend afternoon and took him aside.

  “When I got back from the big war, there was a song that was real popular. It went something like, ‘How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they seen Paree?’ It looks to me like you’re going through something like that, eh, son?”

  “That’s kind of what I’m feeling, I guess,” Bobby said. “But that’s not all there is to it. It’s just that I never really knew what I was getting into when I went to the Pacific. I mean, it’s one thing to talk about killing the enemy and saving the world for democracy, but it’s different when you’re in hand-to-hand combat in a trench and you know that the only way to live through it is to kill the guy you’re fighting. It gets a lot more personal. Staring down a sniper scope at a slight movement in a tree two hundred yards away is one thing, but it’s completely different when you have a man skewered on your bayonet and you see the life go out of his eyes. When you’ve been through an experience like that, it kind of makes you feel disconnected from ordinary life. I can’t seem to get a grip on things since I got back.”

  Bobby hesitated for a minute and then went on.

  “Pop, there were times out there I should have died but I didn’t, especially in that last battle. When I think about it, it makes me ask the big question. You know, like why did I live when the guy standing right next to me caught a bullet or got blown to bits? What reason in all this great big universe could there be for Bobby Halverson to still be walking the earth?”

  His dad smiled and put his arm around his son’s shoulder.

  “Bobby, I know you’re not real big on religion, and the truth is neither am I. Your mother and I go to church, but I’m pretty much a back pew kind of guy. I’m not a fan of bake sales and all the rest of the folderol, but I have found comfort in some of the things the pastor talks about. Why don’t you come to church with us on Sunday and maybe talk to the pastor?”

  “I appreciate the offer, Pop,” Bobby said, “and I’m glad you and Mom have found something that works for you. I’m just not ready to go that route.”

  His dad let it drop, much to Bobby’s relief. Before he left Hawaii he had gotten caught up in a conversation about religion with Reuben, but Reuben’s dogmatic approach to the subject grated on Bobby and only reinforced Bobby’s negativity toward religion.

  So life in Apple Creek for Bobby went on, and he just stayed in his funk. The days rolled by, and soon it was almost fall. Then one day the phone rang, and when he answered it, Reuben was on the other end of the line.

  “Hello, Bobby,” said the familiar voice.

  “Well, buddy...I was wondering if you were ever going to get around to calling me. I heard you’ve been back for a while.”

  “Yeah, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve been getting some things in order in my life, and it’s taken a lot of my attention.”

  “Oh? Like what?” Bobby asked. “It sure must have been important if you didn’t have time to call your best buddy.”

  Reuben caught the tension in Bobby’s voice and said, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I really have been seriously involved in some things at the church, and it would have been awkward for me to start calling on my Englisch friends. I’m on probation, and the elders are keeping an eye on me. I don’t want to mess this up, so I’ve had to be very judicious about what I do and where I go. Just lately I seemed to have passed a milestone in my journey, so I have permission to see you.”

  “Permission?” snorted Bobby. “What happened to old freethinking Reuben?”

  There was an awkward pause, and then Bobby jumped back in.

  “Look, Reuben, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get nasty with you. The truth is I’ve been out of sorts ever since I got back. Since I mustered out, I haven’t seemed to be able to get things back in focus. So don’t pay any attention to my grouchiness. When can we get together? It would be good to see you.”

  “That’s why I called,” said Reuben. “I’ve got something important to tell you and something to ask you, but I want to do it in person. Can you meet me today at the General Store? That’s where I’m calling from.”

  “Not at the bar in Wooster, old beer buddy?” laughed Bobby.

  Reuben chuckled, and then his voice softened a little, and he sounded more like the old Reuben. “Not today, Bobby. I’ve pretty much put that life behind me. Just come over to the General Store if you can. I’ll be waiting out front.”

  Bobby drove over right away and pulled up in front of the store. Reuben was standing outside by the front door. He had changed a lot—especially the way he looked in traditional Amish clothing.

  Bobby climbed out and walked up to Reuben. There was an awkward moment, and then Reuben embraced Bobby and Bobby returned the hug. Then Reuben stepped back and looked Bobby directly in the eyes.

  “It’s good to see you, Bobby,” he said. “I mean it—it’s really good to see you. I’m glad we both got back from that hellhole mostly in one piece.”

  Bobby smiled, and for the first time in months he felt some of the tension drain out of him. It was as though the two of them shared something that no one else would understand, and the knowledge that there was someone who knew just how he felt was comforting to Bobby.

  “So, what have you got to tell me that’s so important?” he asked.

  “I’m marrying Jerusha in November.”

  “That’s wonderful! So you got it worked out with her parents and the church?”

  “Well, that’s part of why I’ve had to be careful. I really wanted Jerusha’s father to know that I’m serious about my decision to get baptized and return to the church. A month ago he gave me permission to court Jerusha, and now it’s pretty much settled.”

  “So what is it you want to ask me?”

  “I want you to come to the wedding,” Reuben said. “I’d really like you to be one of my attendants, and so I’m asking you so you’ll know how much your friendship means to me. On the other hand, I know you’d probably feel awkward, so I’ll understand if you say no.”

  “You’re right,” Bobby said. “I’d feel about as out of place as a fish in a tree if I had to stand up front at an Amish wedding. I’ll come, of course, but I’d rather just blend in with the crowd if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing. It’ll mean a lot just to have you there. And, hey, now that I have my life back on an even keel, I’d really like to sit down and talk to you about what’s been happening with me.”

  There was an awkward moment, and then Bobby said, “I want to be frank with you. We’ve already had that conversation, and I’m glad you found your faith again. I really am. I’m glad that the war helped to draw you closer to God. But as for me...well, if anything, the war pushed me farther away. After seeing men in combat, it puzzles me that a God who is supposed to love mankind could let something like war happen. I can only come to one of two conclusions. Either He hates human beings or He doesn’t exist, and my money’s on the latter.”

  Reuben looked at Bobby. “I’m sorry to hear that, Bobby. Really sorry.”

  I’m sure you were, Reuben, I’m sure you were.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Wedding Day

  JERUSHA AWOKE BEFORE DAWN that Tuesday in November of 1943 knowing that in just a few hours she would be married to Reuben Springer.

  She slowly got out of bed, dressed, threw on her heavy coat and some boots, and slipped out of the house in the dark. There were a few inches of snow on the ground, and the air was crisp. She wandered out to the barn and climbed the ladder to the loft. She found h
er place in the hay and lay down on the soft cushion, letting her perplexing thoughts have their say.

  I should be completely happy this morning, and I almost am. I still have a troubled place in me, an uncertainty. I want my daed to be right that this is the right thing to do, but I’m still not sure about Reuben. He is so serious these days. Oh, I’ve seen him laugh and be charming, but when we’re alone there’s a place in him that is closed off to me—forbidden—something he keeps only for himself. He has become so...so Amish! And that is something I never expected. Lord, what am I to do? All of my heart wants him, and yet I keep hearing the tiny voice somewhere in me that says, “Wait, wait.”

  As she lay mulling over her thoughts, she heard footsteps crunching across the yard, and then her daed’s voice came up to her as it had so many times in her childhood.

  “Kumme, dochter, there are things to be done.”

  Jerusha stood and took a deep breath. Then she spoke the prayer of her heart aloud.

  “I will go now and marry Reuben. I am trusting You in all my ways and leaning not on my own understanding. Be with me this day, my God, for I must depend on You completely.”

  By 8:30 that morning, most of the community had arrived at the Hershberger home. Guests packed the house, and many more gathered in the farmyard. Jerusha and Reuben wore plain clothing and sat apart while the Armendiener gave a sermon.

  The people sang wedding hymns from the Ausbund, and then it was time for the vows. Jerusha and Reuben came forward. The minister asked whether they would remain together until death and be loyal and care for each other during adversity, affliction, sickness, and weakness. He then took their hands in his and, wishing them the blessing and mercy of God, told them, “Go forth in the Lord’s name. You are now man and wife.”

  There were no rings or kisses exchanged, but as Jerusha held Reuben’s hands, looked into his eyes, and heard him swear his undying love and devotion to her, the uncertainty in her heart slipped away. In spite of her fears, she knew Reuben loved her deeply, and this knowledge gave her great comfort. So she put aside the nagging doubts, shut out the still, small voice that was telling her to wait, and entered into her marriage with a full commitment.

  The two made a beautiful couple. Reuben, tall and dark, with his strong face and dazzling smile; Jerusha, blonde and lovely with a sweet disposition and obviously gifted with the qualities that would make a good wife and homemaker. The attendees couldn’t help but remark that this was a marriage seemingly wrought in heaven. Everyone knew that Reuben had more than earned his place in the community since his return. He had forsaken the things of the world, received baptism, and been faithful in every way required of him. He was strong in the ordnung, and the elders spoke openly of his leadership abilities.

  As they were making their way to the reception, Jerusha saw a man in a dark Englisch suit among the guests. “Who is that man, Reuben?” she whispered.

  Reuben looked over, and a smile broke over his stern features. “That’s my friend Bobby. I’ve mentioned him to you before. He is... was my best friend.” With that, Reuben rushed over to greet Bobby.

  “You came!” he said, reaching out to embrace Bobby. He took him by the arm and led him to Jerusha. “I may have forsaken the world, but I have not forsaken my friend. Jerusha, this is Bobby Halverson.” Reuben paused and then went on. “We...we served in the Marines together.”

  Bobby took Jerusha’s hand and said, “I’m so pleased that Reuben invited me to your wedding.”

  Seeing his warm smile, Jerusha immediately knew why this man was her husband’s friend. Bobby went on. “I feel as if I already know you—Reuben has told me all about you. He said you were pretty, but he didn’t say the half of it.”

  Jerusha blushed and lowered her eyes. “Were you with Reuben...in the war?” she asked. She felt Reuben’s body stiffen slightly as he stood next to her, and a look passed between them.

  “Well, Mrs. Springer, I don’t want to go into all that,” Bobby said slowly. “I will say this. Reuben saved my life, and I will be eternally grateful for that. This puts me permanently in his debt and in yours. So if there is ever anything you need or any help that a friend can give, please call on me. It’s my wedding gift to you both.”

  Jerusha was surprised to see a tear glisten in Reuben’s eye. Then she realized that Bobby had been the first one to call her Mrs. Springer. She felt her heart open to this man. Englisch or not, he was a good man for Reuben.

  “Thank you for coming, Bobby,” Reuben said softly.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  They stood and looked at each other, and again Jerusha saw a look pass between them, a message that conveyed both a shared joy and an unspoken sorrow. She knew instinctively that the look held the key to Reuben’s unhappiness, and it occurred to her that it would be good to cultivate Bobby’s friendship if she were to help Reuben come back to himself.

  “Will you be staying for the reception, Mr. Halverson?” she asked.

  Bobby laughed out loud. “Mrs. Springer, no one has called me Mr. Halverson since I got in trouble in high school. If you would be so kind as to never call me that again, I would be most grateful. It’s Bobby.”

  Jerusha liked this Bobby Halverson. “Agreed, Bobby,” she said, “and you must call me Jerusha.”

  “It’s a deal,” said Bobby. “As for the reception, I really can’t stay. I have another obligation. I’ll be taking my leave, but not before I wish you my most heartfelt congratulations.”

  Bobby took Reuben’s hand in his and shook it again and then turned to Jerusha.

  “I noticed that there wasn’t a lot of huggin’ and kissin’ going on,” he whispered, “so I’ll just follow protocol and wish you the best with a handshake.”

  “Our door is always open to you, Bobby Halverson,” she said as she took his hand.

  For the second time that day she saw a tear start in a man’s eye, and then Bobby released her hand, turned, and was gone.

  “Why won’t he stay, Reuben?” she asked, turning to her husband.

  “Bobby isn’t a religious man,” Reuben said. “I’m sure it was hard enough for him to come and hear the sermon and listen to the hymns. But he’s a good man, and I hope that someday he will come to God. I’m sure he feels awkward among total strangers—especially so many Amish strangers. It’s enough for me that he came today, and I’m glad you opened our home to him. He’s been as close as a brother to me. We...”

  Reuben paused just as Jerusha’s parents came to lead them to the reception, where the celebration continued. Jerusha’s family moved the tables to seat the guests, and Jerusha’s mother and her relatives brought out the feast.

  Reuben and Jerusha sat in the front corner of the room at the Eck table and were the first ones served. There were so many people that they filled the reception room three times to eat in shifts. After the noon meal, there was singing. Then Jerusha’s mother reminded her that it was time for “going to the table.” She appointed two married couples to oversee the tradition. They went to the unmarried women between sixteen and thirty and invited them to sit in one of the large upstairs bedrooms. The men went out to the barn, where they stood around joking and visiting. Reuben and Jerusha went out to the barn and talked to the young men, trying to convince them to go into the house and upstairs where the girls were waiting.

  “You must go in now,” Jerusha said. “The girls are waiting, and you will spoil my wedding if you don’t go in.”

  The young men hemmed and hawed and shuffled their feet. Many of the older boys had cast an appreciative eye on Jerusha in the past, and so in the end it was easy for her to convince them. One by one they went upstairs and asked their favorite girl to “go to the table.”

  The couples held hands as they came down the stairs and sat at the long table. Meanwhile the older folks sat on benches throughout the house. From time to time the group would break into a hymn. While they were singing, Jerusha’s parents passed around candies, fruits, cookies,
and small pieces of cake. The singing went on until finally Jerusha and Reuben left the table. Then the unmarried couples left the table and went into the barn and talked.

  Jerusha and Reuben saw to it that every unmarried person over the age of sixteen had a partner for the evening table. Tradition allowed anyone who didn’t wish to take part to go home, and then the bride and groom led the couples in a procession into the house. Gaslights gave off their soft glow as the Hershberger home resonated with the laughter and songs of the guests.

  Jerusha sat with Reuben, and the wonder of the moment filled her heart. Reuben held her hand, and from time to time he would look into her eyes and smile. It was in one of these unguarded moments that Jerusha felt bold enough to ask, “Reuben, you said that you and Bobby shared some things during the war, and then you stopped. Will you tell me someday?”

  Reuben set his face in a curious way. He tried to be gentle as he spoke to her, but there was an unaccustomed edge that frightened her. “I’ll say this once, and then I wish never to speak of it again. In the war I learned that God was right all along. To kill another man is the most horrible act that one human being can do. I did things in battle that only an animal would do. I’m ashamed to the depths of my soul that I ever violated God’s Word. I have returned home to a way of life that will keep me from the world and from all the horror that men do to one another. I will not speak of it again. If you love me, Jerusha, you will let this matter be.”

  Jerusha flinched as though he had struck her. The tone in his voice and the look in his eyes let her know without question that she had struck a deep and dark area in her husband’s soul. The small voice in her heart spoke again.

  Reuben is not a well man. You must stand with him in his sorrow.

  She refused the thought and fought back. No. Reuben and I will be happy...forever.

  “You’re right, my husband,” she said quietly. “I will not ask again.”

  The tenseness went out of Reuben’s face. “Thank you, Jerusha,” he said. “Thank you.”