The Road Home

by Patrick E. Craig

  Jenny sighed. “You’re right, Papa,” she said, “but I feel so strange…so anxious.”

  “You’re grieving, Jenny,” Jonathan said quietly.

  “Grieving?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes,” Jonathan answered. “Grieving shows up in a lot of different ways—physically, emotionally, even spiritually. But it’s good. You need to go through it.”

  I’m grieving! Of course I am.

  She picked up the journal her mother had kept. She had put it aside while Bobby and Jonathan had been at the police station, not able to read more, fearing she might read something she really didn’t want to know. Now she turned to the second entry and began to read it.

  “Would it be too hard for you to read it out loud?” Jonathan asked gently.

  “Of course not,” Jenny said. “I’m sorry, I know you all want to hear it.”

  She began to read out loud.

  April 24, 1950. This morning I took the streetcar from the hotel to Fifth Avenue to see Robert’s parents at the address he had given me. It was difficult to find, but I finally got to the house. It’s enormous! It sits right across from a big park. The streetcar man said the name of the park is Central Park. My heart was beating when I went up to the door. There was a big knocker, so I knocked on that, and after a while a young woman in a black and white uniform came and answered the door. I told her who I was and who Jenny was and that I wanted to see Robert’s parents. She looked very surprised. She told me to wait and closed the door.

  After a while another young woman came to the door. She said her name was Augusta, and she asked me what I wanted. I told her who I was and she smiled a strange smile at me. I asked if I could see Robert’s parents, but she was very cold and suspicious. She told me that Robert’s father had died shortly after he heard about Robert, and his mother was in seclusion and would not see anyone. I told her about Jenny, and she just laughed. She said that I was just another fortune hunter who had heard about the family’s tragedy and wanted to cash in. She told me to go away, and then she closed the door in my face. I knocked again, but no one came.

  After a while I went back to the hotel. Tomorrow I will take the proof and show her.

  “Robert, that was his name—the red-haired man. I think remember him,” Jenny said softly. She read on.

  April 25, 1950. Today I took the papers and went back to the house with Jenny. Instead of a girl in a uniform, a big man in a black suit answered the door. He told me that Miss Augusta had warned him that I would be coming back, and he told me to go away. I begged him to let me see Robert’s mother, but he told me if I didn’t go away he would call the police. Then he closed the door. I knocked and knocked. After a while a car pulled up in front of the house and two men got out. They didn’t say anything to me. They just put me in the car and drove away from the house. Finally one of them asked me where I lived. I told him the name of the hotel and they took me there. When I got out they warned me that if I went back to the house I would be arrested and put in jail. Robert! Why did you leave me? I need you!

  May 5, 1950. For the past week I’ve been trying to call Robert’s mother, but every time I get the house, whoever answers hangs up on me. Finally yesterday they told me that they knew where I was staying, and if I ever called again, they would send the police and take my little girl away and put me in jail. My money is almost all gone, and the man at the hotel told me I have one more day to pay him.

  God, why have you abandoned me in this horrible place? I feel so hopeless. I wish I had listened to Daddy. I miss them all so much, but I can never go home. What can I do?

  May 6, 1950. Today something frightening happened. While I went to a restaurant with Jenny to get something to eat, someone came into my room. It was very odd because the door wasn’t broken and the windows were locked. I knew someone came in because all of Robert’s papers were gone. I have the most important ones hidden though, and they didn’t find them. I think that the woman, Augusta, sent someone to my room to make sure I couldn’t prove anything. I had my diary in my purse, so they didn’t get it, but I’m going to take the pages about Robert out and hide them too. Maybe I can still find a way to see Robert’s mother.

  Jenny noticed there was one more entry. The handwriting wasn’t as smooth, and the ink was smeared as though it had gotten wet.

  May 10, 1950. I’ve been out on the streets since the two men came with the hotel man and put me out. I’ve been sleeping under the stairs behind an apartment building. Today I met a man named Joe. He said he would let us stay in his apartment and that he would help me to

  The letters faded away. The pen had run out of ink. It was the last entry in the book. Jenny threw herself on the bed and began to sob. Jonathan and Bobby looked awkwardly out the window while her papa sat beside the bed and patted her shoulder. After a while she composed herself and sat up.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenny said.

  “You’re allowed,” Jonathan said.

  “Well,” Jenny said, “my mother said she hid something from this Augusta woman. She probably didn’t hide it at the hotel because she knew she was going to leave. So if it’s not gone forever, perhaps it’s here.”

  Jenny got up, pulled herself together, and picked up the suitcase. It was an old leather one that looked as if it had been part of a set. She had seen others like this in catalogs. Usually there was another, bigger suitcase and a steamer trunk. She opened the suitcase. It was lined with a flowered material and smelled musty, like an attic. There were straps to hold the clothes, and along both sides were pockets with elastic along the top. Jenny looked through the things inside. There were some clothes, an old magazine from 1950, a brush and comb, and a few other odds and ends. There was nothing else in the suitcase.

  Jenny started to close the lid, but Jonathan stopped her. “My mother had a suitcase like this. It was part of her luggage set. She used it when she and my father took trips.”

  “I thought it looked like part of one of those sets,” Jenny said. “I’ve seen pictures in a catalog.”

  “This one has a special feature,” Jonathan said. “There’s a hidden compartment. Jonathan lifted up the two side pockets and pushed his fingers underneath. Hidden behind them on both sides were two fabric loops attached to the bottom of the suitcase. Jonathan slipped his fingers into the loops and pulled upward. The whole bottom of the suitcase lifted out to reveal a small compartment underneath. In the compartment were two envelopes.

  Lying on top of them was a picture. It was her mother with a handsome, well-dressed man who was holding her close. They were both looking at the camera and smiling. Jenny’s mother was obviously pregnant. Jonathan took the first envelope out of the hiding place and opened it. He pulled out a sheaf of papers. They were the same size as the journal.

  “The missing pages,” Bobby said.

  Jonathan opened the second envelope and took out the papers inside. He unfolded them and showed them to Jenny.

  Jenny gasped. The first one was a birth certificate dated January 6, 1947. The name on the certificate was Jennifer Constance St. Clair. It was from a hospital in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. There was a tiny footprint. The names of the parents were written on the certificate. Robert William St. Clair and Rachel Mary St. Clair. Her parents! There it was, right before her eyes. The second document was a marriage license. It was dated September 14, 1946. There were two names—Robert William St. Clair and Rachel Mary Borntraeger.

  “Papa, isn’t Borntraeger an Amish name!” Jenny exclaimed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Truth Will Set You Free

  JERUSHA WALKED SLOWLY BACK HOME from the Lowenstein farm in awe of the mercy and goodness of her God. She could see how the hand of God had been working in their lives all the way back to the day Jenna had died. Step-by-step He had brought them to this day, and now the wonder of His wisdom and love filled her to overflowing.

  A fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground as she walked toward the bridge spanning the creek between her home and t
he Lowenstein place. A crisp bite was in the air, and her boots crunched in the white powder beneath her as she walked. The wind carried a fresh, clean taste, and Jerusha could almost feel a heavy darkness lifting from her daughter. She knew in that moment that all was well with Jenny.

  Henry had fetched her when Reuben called from Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, to tell her the news. They had found evidence that proved who Jenny’s mother was, and the most amazing thing was that Jenny’s mother may have been from an Amish family in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Reuben, Jenny, Bobby, and Jonathan were going to Lancaster to see what they could find out, and then they would be home.

  Rachel. Jenny’s mother’s name was Rachel. It was all too much for Jerusha, and she stopped on the bridge and watched the creek flow by beneath her feet. A scripture came to mind. O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? Or who hath been his counsellor? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?

  Weil seiner, und durch ihn, und zu ihm, alle Dinge sind: zu wen, Ruhm auf immer sein. Amen.

  July 4, 1946. Today my new life begins. I moved into Robert’s apartment downtown. He is ready to get married right now, but I want to be sure. So much has happened, and I’m afraid. What if Robert doesn’t really love me? What if he’s just doing his duty as far as the baby is concerned? Now that the war is over and the future of St. Clair Manufacturing in Lancaster is uncertain, Robert has talked to his father about converting the plant to peacetime use.

  There are whole fields of planes and tanks that were ready to go overseas, and then VE day came. Robert says they can tear them apart and use them for scrap metal. There’s an automobile plant in Butler that needs lots of steel. Robert’s father likes the idea and says Robert can stay here and organize it. I’m so relieved!

  Robert’s father doesn’t know about me yet. I think Robert is afraid to tell him. He says he’s going to marry me first so that when the baby is born he can give our baby his name, and his father will have to accept it, but I wonder if he will ever tell his parents about me. I love Robert so much, but sometimes I wish I had just followed my father’s way. Everything is so different, and I miss my home and my mama and papa so much.

  Jenny sat at the restaurant table with her papa, Jonathan, and Uncle Bobby. She was putting the torn pages of the journal in order. She took the page she was reading and put it in its place. There were about 70 loose pages, and they had gotten mixed up somehow. Everyone had taken a small pile and sorted them into years, then months, and then days. It had taken them about half an hour. The pages started in early 1946 and ended with the last, terrible entry in 1950.

  The men looked at Jenny expectantly as she tapped the pile into an even stack and then looked up from her task. The waitress brought them all some more coffee. Jenny took a deep breath and began to read.

  March 23, 1946. Today was a terrible day and a wonderful day. I had whiskey for the first time and it was awful. And then I met a boy. Well, actually a man. He is not Amish, but he is wonderful.

  As Jenny read, it was as though her mother’s story began to come to life in her mind. She could see it as if it were a movie.

  Rachel Borntraeger walked unsteadily along the road toward her farm. She was getting cold and tired. Her head ached, and she felt sick to her stomach. The March wind had died down, and the chill that had come as the sun set didn’t feel so biting. It had actually been almost balmy earlier in the afternoon. There was a hint of spring in the air, and some of the plum trees had already started to blossom. It had been a mild winter, and the snow had melted off a few weeks before.

  Rachel wished she had never gone with Rebecca and those boys from Leola. She remembered the bitter taste of the whiskey and how it hit her stomach like a kicking mule. The boys had laughed and tried to kiss her. Rebecca had gone along with the game, but Rachel had climbed out of their car and started home. Rebecca had called her a spielverderber and stayed with the boys, but Rachel didn’t care. She felt awful. Rumspringa was definitely not what everyone made it out to be. Her stomach gave a lurch, and Rachel stumbled off the road and into the bushes to relieve herself of the unwanted substance in her belly.

  When she finished, Rachel wiped her lips with the sleeve of her dress. Her mouth had an awful, bitter taste, and her kappe was askew. She knew she looked a mess. What would Papa say? She felt so ashamed. In this sad state she wandered disconsolately home in the middle of the narrow road.

  The car was upon her before she could even react. The horn blared, and she could hear the tires screeching. She looked around in shock as the car came straight at her. Then the front of the car swerved to the right and then back to the left as it went around her, and then it went into a slide. The rear end swung around, and the car went off the road backward into a thicket of bushes. Rachel stood enveloped in a cloud of dust in the middle of the road. She heard the door open, and an angry voice yelled through the dust.

  “What are you doing in the middle of the road? Are you trying to get killed?”

  Rachel felt her temper rise. “Well, if you didn’t drive like a wahnsinniger down such a narrow lane, perhaps you could have seen me in time!”

  A figure appeared out of the dust cloud. The voice belonged to a very tall young man with flaming red hair. He was wearing white linen slacks, a white shirt, and a pullover sleeveless sweater with a big letter P on it. His shirt was open at the collar, and his loose clothing didn’t hide his athletic build and broad shoulders. The man was about to shout something else when he saw Rachel. He stopped and stared at her, and then his face changed, and he laughed out loud.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked.

  “What if I am?” Rachel retorted, her words a bit slurred.

  “But you’re, you’re…”

  “What? You don’t think the Amish drink? And besides if I am, it is wonnernaus.”

  “What does that mean?” the young man asked.

  “None of your business,” Rachel replied.

  “Well, I’m just asking,” the young man said.

  “No, none of your business is what wonnernaus means,” Rachel replied.

  Suddenly Rachel realized how she must look. There she was, the prim and proper Miss Rachel Borntraeger, standing in the road, kappe half off her head, face flushed, kutz on her chin, and shouting at this Englischer. It struck her as extremely funny, and she began to laugh. The young man looked at her in amazement, and then he began to laugh too. Finally the young man pulled himself together and reached out his hand.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I was going too fast. I just got this car, and we were taking her for a test run. I got a little carried away. I hope you will forgive me for almost killing you. My name is Robert St. Clair.”

  Rachel looked at his face distrustfully, but she could see that he was genuine in his apology, so she reached out her hand to introduce herself. Something strange happened, though, when his hand closed around hers. A little shock ran up her arm, and a hot flush rose into her cheeks. She stared at him without saying anything. He was extremely handsome, with strong, regular features and a cleft in his chin. His hair was bright red and combed straight back. He was at least six inches taller than her, and his eyes were the most intense blue she had ever seen. She felt herself being drawn into them, and she stood silent as he stared at her too.

  Rachel was a beautiful girl, even in her present state. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun under her kappe, but it framed her lovely face and her deep violet eyes and set off her pale skin. Her plain clothing only made the loveliness of her features more evident, and Robert was speechless for a moment. Finally he found some words.

  “And your name?”

  “I’m Rachel Borntraeger. I live in Lancaster. My father is the bishop of the Amish church, and I am…”

  Rachel stopped. She was talking too much, but for some reason she wanted to tell this man everything about h
erself. Their reverie was broken by a shrill voice from the car.

  “Robert, are you going to stand out there all night, or are we going to get this car out of the ditch and get going? We’ll be late to the country club.”

  Robert released her hand, and the electricity stopped. He turned his head and looked over at the car, and then he looked back at Rachel and smiled sheepishly.

  “That’s Julianne. She’s my date tonight. We’re going to a dance at the country club. Benny Goodman is playing.” He paused. “But I wish you were my date instead.”

  Rachel blushed but managed to say, “Ja, well. You should get going to the dance then.”

  “Will I see you again?” Robert asked.

  Without even thinking Rachel spoke. “I work at King’s Mercantile store on Fridays and Saturdays.”

  Then she turned and headed home. Robert stared after her and then slowly turned toward the car.

  “Robert!” came the shrill voice. “Let’s go!”

  Robert turned back and watched Rachel as she walked away up the road. Then he shrugged and walked toward the car.

  March 26, 1946. Today I saw Robert again. I was working at the store and then he was there…

  Rachel had seen Robert again the next Friday after the incident on the road. She was working in the back of King’s Mercantile, stacking bolts of cloth on the shelves, when suddenly she felt someone standing behind her. She had turned and he was standing there, staring at her. She suddenly felt hot and weak, as if she could faint. She reached out and took hold of the post that held up the shelf full of cloth. She stared back at him.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” Robert said simply and quietly.

  Rachel flushed again. That strange feeling came over her that she had experienced on the road. She wanted to tell him everything. She tried to hold her tongue, but she couldn’t.