As she looked at Paradise for the last time, she turned her thoughts toward home, toward Apple Creek. Jerusha would be waiting at the station with her papa. Reuben would take her in his arms and hold her close while Mama fussed over Rachel. Then she would be in her mama’s arms, and if ever comfort was to be found again in Jenny’s life, she would find it there in the beating of Jerusha’s heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Safe Haven
JERUSHA SPRINGER STOOD ON THE platform at the Depot Street station in Apple Creek, Ohio, glancing down the tracks to the east. Reuben stood beside her with his arm on her shoulder.
“Looking won’t make her come any sooner, wife.”
“I know, Reuben, but my heart is anxious for our poor girl. I’m so glad she’s coming home. Her letter was so sad. She’s heartbroken.”
“As are we, wife. Our son-in-law is gone, and our girls are left without a husband or a father. It’s a dreadful thing. Jonathan was a good man. He was selfless in his concern for Jenny and so respectful of us. Ja, es ist ein schreckliches, schreckliches Ding, a terrible thing.”
Then the morning stillness was broken by the faint sound of a train whistle. Jerusha leaned forward again and looked down the tracks. In the distance she could see the train coming—yellow against the harvested fields that were slowly browning as deep fall approached.
“She’s coming, Reuben. She’s almost here!” Jerusha clutched her husband’s arm as the train began to slow for its final approach into the village.
Diesel engines hummed, wheels clattered over tracks, and then the train pulled slowly into the station. Two conductors swung down off the platforms between cars and began to assist people off. Jerusha scanned the faces of the people clambering down off the train.
There! There they were—Jenny in her white kappe, her face pale and sad against her dark dress. Jerusha waved and then waved again. Jenny looked up, and a wan smile broke the stern set of her face. She turned to the steps and lifted Rachel down.
Jerusha watched as Jenny pointed Rachel toward them. A big smile crossed Rachel’s face, and then she ran to them.
Grossmudder! Grossdaadi!
She bounced into Jerusha’s arms as her grandmother covered her face with kisses.
Jenny walked up to them. She was tired, and her face was drawn. Reuben took two steps forward and wrapped Jenny in a hug.
And then it was as Jenny had foreseen it. Her mama fussed over Rachel while she surrendered to the safety of her papa’s strong arms.
“Oh, Papa,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I know, Jenny…I know.”
Reuben held his daughter close, his love for her warming Jenny’s very soul, as though she had been wandering out in the cold for a long time and now finally found her way to a fire that began to thaw her frozen heart. She stayed there for long moments. Then there was a light touch on her arm. She turned to Jerusha while Reuben reached down and picked up Rachel. The little girl squealed with delight as her grandfather swung her in the air and then pulled her close. Reuben walked away a few steps and talked with Rachel while Jenny stood close to Jerusha and held her hand. Her mama’s face worked with emotion as she reached up and softly stroked Jenny’s cheek. Something released deep inside her as she felt the gentle touch. She choked back a sob, trying to keep her composure. Then the love in Jerusha’s eyes broke through her shell of grief, anger, and fear, and she collapsed into her mother’s arms.
“Mama! Mama!”
Convulsive sobs shook her body as Jerusha pulled her close and began to cry with her. Jenny pulled herself as close as she could. And then she was in her place of safety and salvation—the place that had been her refuge since the night Jerusha held Jenny against her in the heart of the storm so many years before. And Jenny felt her mother’s heart—the strong, sure beating that spoke to her without words and told her she was home.
The two women stood together for a long time as Jenny’s grief ran its course. Then Jenny reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
“I’ve been carrying these with me for times like this.”
Jerusha pulled out one of her own and dabbed at her eyes as she smiled through her tears.
“I know.”
As they stood together, a police cruiser with the Wayne County Sheriff’s emblem pulled into the lot close to the tracks. An officer got out. He was a well-built, stocky man with a thick shock of sandy hair. He walked toward them with the upright bearing of a soldier and waved at Jerusha and Jenny.
“Uncle Bobby…” Jenny said. “I should have known he would come to meet us.”
Sheriff Bobby Halverson walked up to Reuben and smiled at the little girl in his friend’s arms. Rachel looked at him shyly and hid herself against Reuben’s chest. Reuben stuck out his hand and said, “Hello, Bobby. Thanks for coming by.”
“Well, I haven’t seen Jenny for a long time, and…say, who’s this little one?”
“This is Rachel, our grossdochter…our granddaughter. Rachel, this is our friend Sheriff Bobby. I’ve known him for a long time.”
The two men exchanged a glance that was born in hard times and deep friendship. Bobby held out a hand to Rachel, but she shyly snuggled closer to Reuben, so Bobby turned to Jenny and pulled her into a hug. As he held her he spoke quietly into her ear.
“How are you?”
Jenny hugged Bobby back. Then she looked up into his caring face.
“I’m doing all right, Uncle Bobby. It’s hard, but the Lord is with me, and I’m home now with Mama and Papa…and you.”
“I’d like to take you all to lunch if you’d like.”
Jenny looked at Jerusha and then turned back to Bobby. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d just like to go home. It’s been a long ride, and I need to get unpacked.”
“Why don’t you come join us for supper tomorrow night, Bobby?” Jerusha asked. “That will give us time to get our girls settled in.”
Bobby smiled and said, “I was kind of hoping to get an invite to partake in some of your home cooking, Jerusha. An old bachelor like me can only take so many meals at Eileen’s on the Square. What time?”
“Make it about seven,” Reuben interjected. “I’ll be home from the fields and have time to get cleaned up.”
“I thought you folks had finished the harvest,” Bobby said.
“We have,” Reuben replied. “But we have a new bisschop, and he needed help adding a feed storage room to his barn, so we’ve been working on that.”
“Well, okay. I’ll see you there at seven. Do you need a ride home?”
“No thanks, Bobby. I’ve got the big buggy, and Jenny doesn’t have that many suitcases. We’re fine.”
Bobby gave Jenny another hug and then chucked Rachel under the chin. She grinned but ducked away.
“I’ll see you later, little one. And I guarantee that you won’t be shy with me much longer.”
Rachel peeked out curiously from her grossdaadi’s arms as Bobby turned and walked away.
“Where are your things?” Reuben asked.
There were a few bags still stacked on the platform, and Jenny saw her trunk and her suitcase among them. “Over there, Papa,” she said.
Reuben handed Rachel off to Jerusha and picked up Jenny’s luggage. He led the way off the platform to the buggy parked at the depot’s hitching rack. The black horse looked up and snorted as the family climbed into the buggy. Reuben strapped the bags to the back. Then he untied the horse, got in, and gave the reins a shake. The horse started off slowly down Depot Street, headed for the Springer farm.
“He knows the way home,” Reuben said.
“I wish I did,” Jenny said.
Jerusha glanced at Reuben and then pulled Jenny close.
The sun was high up in the sky when the buggy turned into the drive leading to the Springer house. Jenny looked around her. Everything was exactly the same as the last time she had visited—the little white house looked clean and neat, the green lawn was edged by her mama’s rose garde
ns and hydrangeas, the front porch held the white swing where she sat with Jonathan many years before, wondering if they would ever be together…nothing had changed, and that felt safe to Jenny.
She got out of the buggy and walked across the lawn to the front porch. Off to the right of the porch was the path that led to the bridge across the small creek that flowed between the Springer farm and the Lowensteins’ place. As she looked, she saw a familiar figure crossing the bridge. The tall man waved to her.
“Hello, Jenny! Welcome home!”
The words pierced Jenny’s heart like quick pinpricks, but she smiled bravely and waved back as Henry Lowenstein climbed up the steps.
“Hello, Henry. Good to see you. Is your family well?”
“Well, my pop’s getting up there, but he still goes to work every morning. He’s going to be around for a long time…” Henry paused. “I just came by to see you and to tell you how sorry I am about your loss.” He pulled his old baseball cap off and stood awkwardly, holding it in his hands.
Jenny touched Henry on his arm. “Thank you, Henry. That means a lot to me. You’ve been my friend ever since I was a little girl, and I know how much you care for our family.”
Henry shifted from one foot to the other. “If there’s anything I can do, Jenny, you can count on me.”
Jenny gave Henry a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Henry blushed and looked down at his feet.
“Henry, you’ve been helping my family for as long as I can remember, and I love you for it. Your friendship is what I need the most right now. Just to be home among people I love and who love me…that’s what will set everything right with me. Now come and meet Rachel.”
Rachel was standing on the porch, looking at something up by the ceiling.
“Look, Mama. A pretty butterfly,” she said, pointing up.
And indeed, a large yellow butterfly was struggling in a spider web in the corner of the porch roof.
“Can I help him, Mama, before the spider gets him?”
“I don’t know how to get up there, Rachel.”
“Oh, yes you do, Jenny,” said Henry.
He reached down and picked up Rachel and lifted her high over his head. “Up, Rachel, up we go.”
Rachel reached up and gently extricated the butterfly from the web. Henry set her down gently, and she walked to the porch rail and released the beautiful little creature.
“Henry, you used to do that with me when I was a little girl,” Jenny said, remembering.
“And with your sister, Jenna, too,” he added.
“I remember, Henry,” Jerusha said with a smile as she walked up on the porch. “Jenna loved it when you put her up to the ceiling. ‘Up, Henny,’ she would say.”
“That little girl would have kept me out here all day, putting her up and down, if I would have let her.”
Rachel was listening and she looked up at her mama. Then she smiled and took hold of Henry’s hand. “Up, Henny,” she said with a grin as she lifted her arms.
Henry smiled too, and took the little girl in his strong hands and lifted her up. Rachel shrieked with joy as she soared toward the ceiling.
Jenny felt disconnected as she watched Henry with her daughter. Some things never change. But some do.
She sighed and walked into the house. Through the front door, past the fireplace, down the hall, and into my room…I’ve walked this way a thousand times before in happier days.
Jenny stood in the doorway and looked in. This room had been her refuge all her life, the only place on earth where she felt totally safe. Every night when she was growing up she knew that her big, strong papa was right in the next room, and her mama was only a call away. That knowledge had kept her secure through all her years. But she didn’t feel secure now. She felt as if she were standing on a slippery slope with nothing to hang onto as she slid toward an abyss.
Jenny put down her luggage and knelt by the oiled oak chest that her papa had made. He had rubbed it with mineral oil, and the smell was woven into the fabric of her childhood.
Like the linseed oil smell that permeated our bedroom…
She put her head down on the wood and closed her eyes. If only the familiar smell of the chest could somehow take her back in time to the small world of childhood—those wonderful days of innocence when life was Apple Creek and the barn and the land and this house, when her mama and papa and Jesus were the center of all things and life passed not in days and hours but in smells and discoveries and colors and seasons, and all her life was surrounded by joy and peace and love.
She got up, went to the window, pulled the roller shade down, and then rolled it back up again. She flung herself down on the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and groaned. She needed Jonathan. But there was no Jonathan, no way to retreat to her childhood, and all she had was the awful, piercing pain in her heart.
O Gott, make this cup pass from me!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grief
IT WAS A COLD, BITING day in late October. The weather had been stormy off and on since Jenny’s arrival in Apple Creek, and everyone at the Springer house had been forced to stay inside. Jerusha cared for Rachel with a grandmother’s joy and helped to lift that responsibility off Jenny’s shoulders.
For the first two weeks after her arrival, Jenny just stayed in bed most of the day. She slept fitfully at night, and when she was awake she was irritable and had no appetite. She spent hours crying quietly under her covers. She felt as though every ounce of energy had been drained from her body, and it was all she could do to get dressed in the morning. On many days, she just didn’t. In the mornings, Jerusha brought tea and some of her wonderful biscuits, but Jenny ignored them.
This morning, when Jerusha came into the room, Jenny was sitting in her rocking chair, staring out the window. The wind pushed the branches of the hydrangeas fitfully against the panes. Large drops of rain were running down the glass. The gray clouds obscured the morning light. Jenny sat with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Good morning, dochter,” Jerusha said as she set a tray down on the dresser. “I brought you some tea and biscuits…if you want them.”
“Mama, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Jenny? Sorry that your heart is broken? Sorry that you’re grieving?”
Jenny thought for a moment. She wanted to apologize for being so useless, but she hadn’t even connected what was happening to her with the reality of her grief. She looked up at Jerusha.
“Is that what’s happening? I thought I was reconciled to Jonathan’s death months ago and moving forward, but now it’s like I’m having a relapse. How can that be?”
And then, as if to answer her own question, she continued. “When he…when he left us, it was planting time, and the farm demanded so much from me that I had to work. My nights were terrible, but I could turn the sadness off during the day and plunge into the tasks that had to be done. Since I’ve come to Apple Creek, I feel like my body won’t do anything I ask of it, even if I order it to.”
Jerusha sat down on the bed across from Jenny. “This is why we wanted you to come home. So we could help you bear the burden of your sorrow. Your papa and I want to help you through this, but it will not be an easy time for you, and it may go on for longer than you think. Jonathan was a special man, and you two had a special kind of love. I know because it was the same kind of love that your papa and I share. It’s not possible to forget a man like Jonathan.”
“What can I do then, Mama? I feel so helpless and useless…and even faithless. I don’t know where Gott is in all of this. I reach out to Him, but I can’t hear Him speaking to me or feel His presence. Rachel asks me why Gott would want us to be so sad. I don’t know…”
“These are the hard questions of life, Jenny. Is it any wonder we call this the vale of tears? All we can do is rejoice in knowing that Jonathan is beyond this wicked world and that he is with Jesus. We can never understand why Gott would allow such a thing, but sometimes understanding Him and trusting Him
can be two different things.”
Jenny was silent again. Jerusha reached across and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as Jenny stared out the window. The two women sat like that for awhile. Only the rustling of the branches against the pane and the wind whispering against the eaves disturbed the stillness of the room.
As they sat, the wind died down and the rain ceased to beat against the window. The clouds started breaking up, and a ray of sun broke through. A hush fell on the day, and peace crept over the land. Outside the window, one of the last songbirds of the receding fall season picked up a cheery melody. The gray clouds began to disperse, to be slowly replaced by cotton balls drifting through an azure sky. Bright sunlight poured into the room as they sat, and Jenny felt a stirring in her heart.
“I don’t want to go on, but I will,” she said softly.
Jerusha knelt by Jenny’s chair and lifted her hand to Jenny’s face. Gently she stroked her daughter’s cheek and pushed the errant curls back out of her eyes.
As their eyes met, Jenny knew that God hadn’t abandoned her. As she saw the love in Jerusha’s eyes and felt it in her touch, Jenny grasped the totality of His presence in her life. When she was a little girl, lost and dying in a snowstorm, God sent Jerusha. Jenny’s birth mother had died, and du lieber Gott had given her another mother—a mother who took Jenny into her heart completely and without reservation. God gave her a home and a new life and then unveiled the secrets of her past. And then He brought her Jonathan—a precious gift indeed. And from Jonathan, Jenny received her beautiful daughter and ten wonderful years.
“I will be thankful for what I have been given,” she said quietly, taking her mother’s hand to her face. Jenny could feel the beat of Jerusha’s heart in the tips of those fingers. And in that moment Jenny heard a voice within her that she had not heard for a long time.
Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) Page 5
