Authors: Patrick E. Craig
The Road Home (19 page)
The men rose and filed silently out of the house.
J
ENNY LAY FACEDOWN IN HER BED
. She felt like fine china after a monstrous earthquake. She clenched her fists and did her best to choke back her sobs. She was determined not to let her papa know how much he had hurt her.
This roomâher roomâhad 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 sleeping. That knowledge had kept her secure through all her years. Now her room felt like a prison, and the man in the next room was no longer the father she knew but a strange, stern, warden who was unwilling to release the keys that would unlock her future. How had this happened to her? She was not a sinner to be shunned! She was Jenny Springer, who loved her mama and papa and had always been a good Amish girl.
She got up and paced the room. There, beneath the window, was the oak chest her papa had made. Her bed, too, had been made by his hands and rubbed with mineral oil, and its smell had become woven into the fabric of her childhood. She lay again on the bed, her thoughts
stirring her emotions like milk in the churn. This quilt beneath her had been handcrafted by her mother. Now it was damp with tears.
She rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. Then she got up again and went to look in the mirror on her dresser. Her face was red and her eyes puffy. A fist of fear clutched her insides. She was tempted to cry out, to call her mama, to confess, repentâanything to free herself from this torment. And yet somewhere inside her was the still, small voice beckoning her on.
This is the road home! The answer lies somewhere out there, and only you can find it
.
A great resolve rose in her heart. She would find her birth mother. Jonathan would help her. She lay back down on the bed, pulled the quilt around her, and closed her eyes. A great weariness came upon her. Her eyes jerked open. She stared at the ceiling. Her eyes blinked closed, once, twiceâ¦
Tomorrow I will go. Tomorrow I will go. Tomorrowâ¦
And then she slept.
Reuben and Jerusha sat in front of the fireplace. A cheerless flame flickered on the hearth. The lamps didn't seem to keep the darkness away. Reuben looked at his wife with troubled eyes. Finally he spoke. “I sat here once, years ago, and had the same
schwierigkeiten
in my heart,” he said. “It was when I came home during the storm and you were gone. I was sure you'd left Apple Creek forever, and my heart was broken. The life was gone from this house. Then when Bobby came and told me you were lost in the storm and probably dead, I felt fear. Not the kind of fear I had in the Pacific, but the kind of fear that comes from knowing your life is over, yet you will go on living. I lost Jenna and then I lost you. The only hope I had was to go with Bobby to find you, to do something, to try and fix it. But this! This is something I don't know how to fix.”
“Perhaps, then, it's not for you to fix, husband,” Jerusha said. “Perhaps only Jenny can fix it. Perhaps she must find the answer.”
“How is it that someone who isn't my blood can be so much a part of me?” Reuben asked with an anguished look. “Jenny has been my daughter since the moment she told us her name and I knew God had given her to us to comfort us and to be ours. And yet now I feel like I've never known her.”
Reuben put his face in his hands. “Is Jenny right?” he asked, his voice muffled. “Did I kill Jenna?”
Jerusha looked at Reuben and then came to his chair and knelt before her husband, laying her head in his lap. She felt his hand reach out and softly stroke her hair.
“We all make mistakes,” she said. “Some are inconsequential, and we escape with nothing more than a scare and a reprimand. Others can follow us throughout our lives. I know you've carried the burden of Jenna's death. I see it in your eyes when you look at Jenny. I see the love you have for her, and I know you have a deep fear that you will lose her too.
“But you must remember that our times are in God's hands, not ours. Jenna was with us for four years, and then God took her home. I know someday we will see her again. In the meantime, He has given us Jenny, who needs us to guide her far more than Jenna ever would have. It's time for you to surrender to God's grace in this matter and forgive yourself, for I have forgiven you, and I know that the Lord has too.”
Jerusha felt her husband's hand shaking. She looked up at his face. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his shoulders were heaving with silent sobs.
“Reuben,” she said softly. “You're a good man, kind and gentle, and I know how much you love Jenny. Perhaps there's another way to reach her. We must pray for guidance.”
Reuben reached down and pulled Jerusha up onto his lap. Her
arms slipped under his as he held her, and they sat that way until the fire flickered out.
The first flush of dawn was creeping over the eastern hills when Jenny awoke. For a moment she lay still, wrapped in her mother's quilt, peaceful and warm. Then the events of the night before flooded back into her mind, and she felt as if a giant hand reached into her chest and squeezed her heart with an unmerciful grip. She was to be shunned! How could this be?
Jenny sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was still dressed. She clutched the quilt around her shoulders for a few moments and then quietly stood up, went to her closet, and found her knapsack. Then she went to her drawer, opened it quietly, and took out some underwear and socks and stuffed them in the bag. She knew she would need to buy different clothing for her journey in order to blend in with everyone else.
In the top drawer was a small green wooden box. She opened it and lifted out the top section. In the bottom of the box lay a bundle of bills. It was all the money she had earned and saved from working in the fields and babysitting. She counted just a little more than two hundred dollars.
That won't get me very far, but I have to start somewhere
, she thought.
I'll see Jonathan. He said he would help me
.
Jenny changed into a fresh dress and pulled on her boots and then her coat. She took a last look around at the four walls that had bound the small world of her childhood. A sudden fear gripped her.
What am I doing?
She looked at her
kappe
sitting on the dresser. She started to pick it up and then paused. A pair of scissors was lying there, and she picked them up instead. She took a deep breath, pulled back her shoulders and grabbed her long hair. She breathed a prayer, closed her eyes, and
quickly began to chop away the hair. After a few minutes she had shaped what remained of her hair into a short, curly, boyish cut. She took one look at herself in the mirror and then picked up the knapsack. She went to the window and quietly lifted the sash until there was room to crawl out. Quickly she set the knapsack out on the porch and crept through the window. She stood on the porch for a moment and looked at the house. Everything she loved and knew lived here in this houseâher mama and papa, her memories, her faith.
Will I ever come back here?
she wondered.
Then she turned, stepped off the porch, and quietly walked away.
Reuben rose later than usual. He had lain awake long into the night, praying quietly. He had continued praying until at last he felt he had an answer. Now he arose and walked quietly to the door of Jenny's room. He knew what he needed to do to help his daughter. Softly he knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
“Jenny, can I come in?” There was still no answer. He gently opened the door and looked quickly around the empty room. On the dresser sat Jenny's green box with the lid off and the box empty. The window was open, and the morning breeze ruffled the curtains where Jenny had made her escape.
J
OHNNY SAT IN HIS ROOM
at the Bide-a-Wee Motel in Apple Creek. He had packed his bag and set it on the bed. His repaired Volkswagen van was parked outside. When he picked up the van from Dutch, he had noticed that it ran a lot better when he started it up. He asked Dutch about it.
“Well, I know you didn't ask, but I put a tune-up on her,” Dutch said. “You seem like a nice young fella, and I hate to send you on your way with the possibility of breaking down somewhere between here and Nashville. Oh and don't worry, the fifty bucks covered it.”
“How did you know about me going to Nashville?” Johnny asked.