She sighed. The sound woke Rachel, who stirred and then rolled over and looked at Jenny.
“Is that you, Mama?”
“Yes, darling.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just looking in on my beautiful girl. You are growing up, Rachel. When did that happen?”
“I’ll be fifteen soon, Mama, and then I’ll be out of schule. But I want to keep studying.”
“I know, Rachel. You’re like me. You have an inquisitive mind and the same curiosity as your mama. But you also have your papa’s way of seeing into the heart of things.”
“I wish papa had never gone on that boat, Mama.”
“So do I, Rachel. So do I.”
The cab ride back to Deeny’s apartment was quiet. They sat in the back without touching. Finally Deeny spoke.
“I’m sorry if I dug into something that is none of my business, Richard. Please forgive me.”
“It’s not your fault, Deeny. It’s just something I don’t like to talk much about. Just so you don’t think me totally weird, I will tell you this. I’m a retrograde amnesia victim. I have no memory before about eight years ago. All I know is that I am a musician and a songwriter. I woke up one day in a hospital. I didn’t know how I got there, and no one could tell me anything about my past. It’s as though my life started eight years ago. That’s all I know.”
“So that’s why you just seemed to burst onto the music scene.”
“Yeah, that’s an interesting story. It’s also why I don’t do interviews.”
The cab pulled up in front of a brownstone on the upper East Side.
“Would you like to come up and tell me about it?”
Richard looked at Deeny. The streetlight outside cast her lovely face into shadows. For just a moment he considered going with her. Then he took a deep breath.
“You know, Deeny, a few years ago I might have said yes. But I can’t, and you know why.”
Deeny looked down. “Make no provision for the flesh?”
“You’re a beautiful girl, Deeny. I hope we can get to be good friends. But I can’t get involved with anyone. It just wouldn’t be fair.”
“But maybe I could help you, Richard.”
“Maybe. But what if my past has something in it you would not want to be involved with? I think it’s best we have a friendship and leave it at that.”
Deeny reached out her hand, and he took it.
“Goodnight, Richard. I’ll be praying for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Visit
RICHARD SANDBRIDGE PULLED UP IN front of Kerusso Publishing on Chestnut Street in Lancaster. The building was an old brick two-story retail space with French paned windows all along the front of both stories. Richard climbed out of his BMW, grabbed his briefcase, and walked through the front door.
The downstairs was basically a warehouse space with a broad flight of stairs in the back. Pallets of boxes were stacked everywhere. It was disorganized in an organized way that Richard liked. The clutter meant that things were happening at Kerusso Publishing.
A young man sat at an old wooden desk by the front door. Bills of lading and order forms littered his desk. He glanced up and then got up quickly and walked around the desk with his hand out.
“Mr. Sandbridge! How nice to meet you. I’m Tom O’Neil, the operations manager. Please excuse the clutter. We’re very busy right now. We just got a shipment of Dear Jenny from the printer, and the guy just kind of walked in here and dumped them on me.”
“I’d rather see the clutter than an empty warehouse, Tom. Nice to meet you.”
“Jeremy…uh, Mr. King is upstairs in his office. Just make your way through those boxes and up that flight of stairs.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
Richard walked up the stairs and turned left at the top. Down at the end of a broad hallway he could see Jeremy sitting at his desk with a phone to his ear.
“Sure, Fred, I can get you two hundred copies. You sure you can sell that many?” Jeremy looked up, saw Richard, and waved him in.
“Fred, you know we have the best return policy in the business. If you can’t sell them in six weeks, ship them all back…What? Well, I know they’ve been selling like hotcakes. Why do you think I’m so willing to give you a great return clause?”
Richard heard a voice on the other end of the line say something, and then Jeremy laughed.
“That’s right, Fred. My mama didn’t raise any fools. I have to go, but if you fax me over that order, I’ll have Tom get those out today…Right! You too! Goodbye.”
Jeremy hung up and stood to welcome Richard.
“Welcome to Kerusso Publishing, Richard. I hope you don’t mind the mess.”
“Like I told Tom, I’m glad to see it. Very encouraging. Makes me know that Charis made the right decision.”
“Yes, I think so, Richard. Sales of Dear Jenny are starting to climb. I’m getting them into a lot of the chains, and some of the big book clubs are asking for hardcovers. I’m thinking that we’re going to do really well on this book.”
“We’ll thank the Lord for that, Jeremy. So what’s the plan for today?”
“I want to go over our records with you and give you our auditor’s report. Then I’d like to take you over to see where we print the books. After that, lunch. There’s a little place outside town that serves Amish food. You’ll love it. And we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“How so?”
“The restaurant is near a little town called Paradise. That’s where Jenny Hershberger lives. I’d like to run by there and see if she’s home. I want you to meet her.”
“That sounds great, Jeremy. Let’s get to work.”
Bobby Halverson sat on the front porch of Jenny’s house in a big overstuffed chair. Rachel sat on a stool next to him, reading. Lem walked around the side of the house and up on the porch.
“Hey, Bobby. I heard some wild turkeys gobbling down in the woods this morning. Want to go down before sunrise tomorrow and see if we can get a couple?”
“Count me in, Lem. Some roast turkey sounds mighty good.”
Rachel looked up from her book. “Uncle Bobby?”
“What, honey?”
“Will you teach me how to shoot so I can go with you and Lem?”
A picture came to Bobby’s mind of Rachel lying prone with a twelve-gauge shotgun pressed to her shoulder, her eye squinting down the barrel, and a look of concentration furrowing her brow. A powder burn blackened the side of her prayer kappe.
“You sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Ja, I’m sure. Lots of Amish girls know how to shoot.”
“You know, your grandpa was a crack shot. I asked him one time where he learned to shoot. He told me he had been hunting all his life.”
Bobby turned to Lem. “What do you think, Lem? Reuben told me once that his folks hunted all over Pennsylvania and Ohio. I guess it wouldn’t hurt for Rachel to carry on the tradition.”
“Sounds good to me, Bobby. But you’re the marksman, so you should teach her.”
“Okay, Rachel, we’ll get started this afternoon.”
“Then can I come with you tomorrow, Uncle Bobby?”
“If you can stay quiet and do exactly as we tell you, you can come.”
“Can I shoot at the turkeys?”
Bobby laughed. “We’ll see about that, darlin’. We’ll see about that.”
Richard drove his BMW convertible down a tree-lined lane outside Lancaster. It was a beautiful day, and they had the top down. Jeremy pointed ahead.
“Take that next right, and about a half-mile down we come to the restaurant. I’m going to turn you on to some food you’ll never forget.”
In about five minutes they pulled up in front of the Friendly Farmer restaurant. Richard got out, stretched his legs, and then followed Jeremy inside. The place had neat handmade tables and a cozy atmosphere. A big buffet overwhelmed the middle of the room.
“The buffet is the way to go, Ri
chard. They have a salad bar, the best local vegetables, chicken, ham, and beef. The lunch desserts are great. My favorite is anything with custard.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.”
After they ate their lunch, Richard and Jeremy sipped cups of coffee.
“You’re kind of quiet today, Richard. Anything on your mind?”
Richard took a breath and glanced out the window. Then he took another sip and looked back at Jeremy.
“I was thinking about a conversation I had with Deeny Carbone the other night.”
“Who’s that?”
“Deeny is one of the singers in Cross & Crowne. She’s a terrific girl, she’s gorgeous, she writes great songs, she’s gorgeous…”
“You said that twice. I guess she’s gorgeous.”
Richard smiled. “Yeah, I guess that’s the problem. Can I share something personal with you, Jeremy? I mean, have we known each other long enough? I feel like we’re getting to be friends. You’re one of the few Christians I’ve met in this business who doesn’t mix their faith with the desire to be famous.”
“Whatever you say to me, Richard, will not go beyond these doors.”
“Okay, I appreciate that. Here’s the deal. The other night, Deeny and I were having dinner, and she asked me about my family. You know—where I was from and all that. I had been having a great time thinking that maybe something could come of this, and suddenly things got very awkward.”
“So…was there a problem with that question, Richard?”
“Yes, a big one.”
Jeremy looked at Richard expectantly.
“The thing is, Jeremy…I don’t know.”
“You…you don’t know what the problem is?”
“No. The problem is, I don’t know where I came from.”
“How can that be?”
“I’m a retrograde amnesia victim.”
“Retrograde amnesia? What’s that?”
“I can only remember so far back in my life, and beyond that, nothing. For me the cutoff point is about eight years ago.”
“What happened?”
“All I know is that one morning I woke up in a hospital. I don’t know how I got there. My head and face were bandaged, and I hurt all over. I had no ID, and I couldn’t remember my name. They told me they had found me wandering around downtown in Sandbridge, Virginia. I had a nasty knock on my head, and my face and hands had been burned.”
“Sandbridge?”
“Yes, it’s on the Virginia coast. And that’s how I got my name. The police looked into it, but there was no way they could identify me. They came up with all kinds of scenarios, but my fingerprints had been ruined, so they had no clue about who I was. There were no missing-persons reports filed that matched my description. It was like I just dropped out of the sky or something. So they called me Richard Sandbridge.”
“But how did you get into the music business?”
“Well, that’s really an interesting story. When I was in physical therapy, the hospital was trying to figure out what to do with me. The counselor asked me if I was interested in anything. I told them I thought I could play guitar. After my fingers healed up, they brought me one. It was amazing because I just sat down and started playing. I knew one song.”
“‘Tonight’?”
“Yes, ‘Tonight.’ Everybody thought it was beautiful.”
“But how did it get to be a hit?”
“I had to have some cosmetic surgery done on my face because of the burns. That’s why I wear this mustache. I still have some scars around my mouth. The doctor who did my surgery had done some work on Larry Carroker, the lead singer for Soul Circle, after Larry was in that bad car wreck, and he had stayed in touch after the surgery. So the doctor knew the group was looking for some songs. He had heard me play ‘Tonight,’ so he recommended me to Larry. I showed Larry the song, he loved it and recorded it, and the rest is history.”
“Richard, that’s an amazing story. And you don’t remember anything about your past life?”
“That’s right. No parents, no place where I grew up, no girlfriend…nothing. That’s why I don’t do interviews. I’d have to make something up. The music press thinks I’m some kind of Howard Hughes recluse, but that’s the way it has to be.”
“So then you wrote ‘Anna’ for Soul Circle, and you had your second monster hit. So what happened next?”
“When I had the hit with ‘Tonight,’ I became good friends with Larry Carroker. He invited me to a few sessions. They asked my advice on production, and it turned out I had a good ear for producing and mixing. They let me sit in as assistant producer on a couple of tunes and loved the way the songs turned out. So they recommended me to some friends, and that’s how I got to produce some other groups.”
“So Charis called you?”
“Well, that happened after I met the Lord.”
“Yes, Richard. You need to tell me your testimony.”
“It turned out that Larry was a strong Christian. Over a couple of years, when I was getting started in the business, he helped me a lot. When we were hanging out, he would drop hints about his relationship with Jesus. One day I just called him on it, and he shared the gospel with me. It made absolute sense to me. It was like I was already a believer. I accepted Christ and started letting Him steer my career in the direction He wanted.”
“And then Charis Records called you.”
“That’s right. They had just signed Cross & Crowne, but the band needed some songs and a producer. Charis had heard about my conversion, and since they were a Christian company, they thought I would fit. “Crown of Thorns” and “Turn to Me” were the result of that collaboration.”
“Wow! That’s all I can say. Wow! What an amazing story, Richard! So do you remember anything at all?”
“Sometimes. I get pictures, like flashes. For instance, Deeny was talking about touring with her band in an old Volkswagen bus. I had the distinct impression that I owned one sometime in the distant past. And my faith was the same way. After I accepted Christ, I got a Bible. When I read it, it was as though I already knew what it said. Some of that I chalked up to the work of the Holy Spirit, but sometimes it was just too real. I felt like at some point I had already spent a lot of time studying it.”
“Amazing…just amazing.” Jeremy shook his head then glanced at his watch. “Say, if we want to drop by Jenny’s place, we need to go. It’s just a few miles from here.”
Richard and Jeremy pulled into the lane off Leacock Road. They drove down the long driveway up to the house. Richard took off his sunglasses and stared at the house.
“What a beautiful place, Jeremy.”
“Yes, it is. Jenny inherited it from her grandfather.”
Far off in the distance, they heard what sounded like gunshots.
“Sounds like someone’s hunting.”
Jeremy got out, walked up on the porch, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again. When nobody answered, he went off the porch and walked around the side of the house. In a minute he came back.
“I was hoping she was out in her garden, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone home. I’ll leave a note. Sorry you don’t get to meet her.”
“Me too, Jeremy. Me too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Proposal
JENNY AND LEM CAME HOME from their trip to the General Store. She grabbed some bags from the buggy and walked up on the porch. A business card stuck out from between the door and the jamb. She pulled it out. It was Jeremy King’s card. There was a note on the back.
Jenny,
We came by, but you were gone. Call me.
Jeremy.
Jenny wondered who the “we” was as she went inside.
Bobby and Rachel returned shortly after Jenny got home. Rachel was a mess. Her clothes were dirty, her kappe was askew, and her hair had lost most of its bun and was dangling down in long strands. She was filthy, but there was a huge grin on her face.
“Uncle Bobby taught m
e to shoot. It was the greatest fun, Mama, but my shoulder is so sore!”
Jenny smiled at her precocious child. “Lem told me you two were going to go shoot. I can see that Uncle Bobby must have had you crawling through the underbrush.”
“Jenny, Rachel is a crack shot. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Bobby leaned two guns against the wall. “I gave her a few pointers, and then she started knocking down everything she aimed at.”
“Well, her father was an Eagle Scout marksman when he was in the Boy Scouts. And being around you and Papa, something must have rubbed off.”
“Uncle Bobby said I could go with them tomorrow to shoot some turkeys. Can I, Mama?”
“If it’s all right with Uncle Bobby, you can go. But isn’t it going to be hard in a dress?”
“I was thinking I might wear some jeans, Mama.”
“Rachel, you cannot even think about wearing jeans until your rumspringa. You are only fourteen and you need to dress proper Amish.”
“But, Mama, it will be so hard to crawl around in this dress!”
“If you want to go, that is how you will dress. Perhaps you should just stay home.”
“If I have to be stuck with such stupid rules, maybe I don’t want to be Amish!” Rachel’s voice rose.
“Rachel!”
Before Jenny could finish, Rachel stomped off to her room, leaving Jenny and Bobby in an awkward silence.
Jenny sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed her forehead. “Great! I thought maybe I’d get to wait on dealing with a rebellious teenager until she was a little older.”
Bobby slid into a chair beside her. “Jenny, Rachel is a good kid. She seems to have her head on straight.”
“Mostly, Bobby, but we actually have a real conflict going on that has strained things between us. When she finished schule this spring, she was told she couldn’t continue. Amish girls and boys only go until the eighth grade. Rachel was heartbroken. She desperately wants to continue her education.”
“And you’ve been having a fight over it?”
“Yes, Bobby, and it breaks my heart. When I finished school, I was working on a big project about the history of the Amish in Ohio. I wanted to keep going with it, and the local librarian offered me an internship so I could have everything I needed, but Daed was against it. Only after the elders intervened did Papa give his permission. So I was able to continue my education. Now Rachel wants to do the same thing, and I have to say no. I feel like a hypocrite.”
Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) Page 21
