A Quilt for Jenna (9 page)

She shook her head. “I can't,” she mouthed back.

“Please,” he said quietly, and the look in his eyes captured her heart.

Throwing on her coat and her boots, she slipped silently out of her bedroom, through the sleeping house, and out the back door. Reuben was there waiting, motioning for her to keep silent and follow him. They walked silently and quickly through the barnyard to the back of the barn. Jerusha's heart was pounding so furiously, she felt that it would wake the county.

When they were far enough from the house, Reuben spoke. “Your father has refused to let me court you.”

“I know,” she answered. “Actually, I think it's probably for the...”

Jerusha didn't get the words out of her mouth before Reuben took her in his arms and kissed her, softly at first and then with passion. Jerusha felt herself slipping into a vortex, surrendering and sinking into him. Then suddenly she jerked away and slapped his face.

“Stop!” she cried. “You have no right to touch me like that.”

Reuben went white, and then she saw anger in his eyes. He stood staring at her, swaying for a moment in the moonlight, and then he mastered himself. He lowered his face to hide the flush of shame that suffused it.

“I'm sorry, Jerusha.” It was the first time he had spoken her name, and the sound of it on his lips was like a balm to her rage.

“You're right, it's not my place to be so...so familiar with you,” he said. “Forgive me. I can only excuse myself by saying that you have completely and wonderfully captured my heart, and to be away from you has tormented me. I am in love with you.”

“But how can you know that you love me?” she asked. “We have only spoken two times.”

“I don't know, Jerusha, but if you can tell me honestly that you do not feel the same toward me, I'll leave this town and never return.”

There! It was out in the open, thrown down like a gauntlet.

She stood silently for a long moment, and then she lowered her eyes and said softly, “
Ja
, I love you also.”

Everything that had happened in her life up to that moment seemed to break off and go crashing down in a heap around her. Everything she had been, everything she had planned...all of it was turned into dust in the wonder of this moment.

She wondered if she could ever turn back now from whatever should lie ahead.

The wind struck Henry's car, and shook it like a rag. Jerusha jerked awake in the back, still wrapped in the thin blanket. The memory of Reuben had been so strong that it took her a moment to realize where she was.

Then the gravity of her situation gripped her once again and the now familiar rage rose in her heart. She began to scream uncontrollably.

“God, if you mean to kill me, just kill me! I want to die! I have nothing left.”

She collapsed, sobbing bitterly, on the seat. But her only answer was the howling wind and the snow piling up against the car.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

Henry

H
ENRY DIDN
'
T LIKE
the looks of this storm. The temperature was below freezing, and the wind hurled the snow like needles against his skin. He was an Ohio farm boy and had been outside on many days like this, but today he was responsible for Missus Springer, and so he trudged on along Kidron Road.

She's a strange duck
.
Real pretty but so sad. She and Reuben used to be so friendly when Jenna was still alive.

Henry remembered the Springer family as loving, happy, and very Amish. The Plain folk had been a part of Apple Creek since before his time, and having Amish folks around seemed as natural to Henry as fleas on a dog. Reuben had built a house on the Hershberger farm after he and Jerusha were married, just across the creek from Henry's dad's place, so Henry saw them almost every day. Reuben worked the farm with Jerusha's dad and brothers, and sometimes he went to Wooster to help his own dad with his farm there.

On those days Henry kept an eye on the house even though Reuben never asked him. He liked watching Jerusha with little Jenna. She would bring the baby out onto the porch and hold her and sing to her, or set her in a small cradle Reuben had made. Then she would work on her quilts. Jerusha was the best quilt maker in all of Wayne County even though she was a young woman. Her reputation was known even among the non-Amish folks in Apple Creek, and some of her quilts were on display in the big Amish store downtown.

Reuben Springer was different from a lot of the Amish men Henry knew. The way Henry had heard it from town folk, Reuben had left Apple Creek for a long time, and nobody really knew where he had gone. The Amish folk never said anything to Henry about it, and his own folks didn't really know much. The Amish were like that—closemouthed about their personal stuff. They were friendly enough, but they didn't much like mixing with the “English” as they called them. Reuben had come back in 1944, and after about a year he married Jerusha. He was different from the old Reuben, folks said—quieter and more stable. Rumors floated around the village that he had been in the army and was wounded in battle, that he had even won a medal, but no one ever asked, and Reuben never talked about it. Reuben just reappeared one day, was baptized, and joined the Amish church. He was faithful and worked hard on the Springer farm. After a while, Jerusha's father consented to Reuben courting her, and soon Reuben and Jerusha were married. It was as if Reuben had never been gone.

Reuben liked Henry and had taken the boy under his wing, which was unusual for the Amish to do with outsiders. But Reuben had seen more of the world than he cared to talk about. Often after school, Henry would drop by and help Reuben, as he did when Reuben was building a new shed in back of the barn.

Reuben would ask him about how he was doing with his studies and what he wanted to be when he grew up. He would talk to Henry about the Bible too, but Henry didn't mind because Reuben didn't beat him over the head with it. Henry would ask a question about something, and Reuben would tell him what the Bible said about that. Sometimes Reuben's friend Bobby Halverson would be there too. They never said much when Henry was around, but he sensed a special bond between them even though Bobby too was “English.”

Those were good times. I never knew anybody as happy as them folks
,
especially after Jenna was born. Seems like they was always laughin', and they was real close. I guess that's why they was so friendly to me—happiness just spilled out of them.

Just then a gust of wind buffeted Henry and brought him out of his reverie. The snow was falling harder now, and he stopped and looked ahead. He could barely see six feet ahead of him. He pounded his arms against his body to take the chill off and stamped his feet to get his circulation going. The temperature had dropped since he and Jerusha had started out.

The wind began to pick up. Henry slogged forward through the falling snow and turned his thoughts back to Reuben.
Yeah, Reuben was different, but he was totally committed to the church. He didn't want any part of the world, not even...

Henry stopped the thought. It was too painful to think about little Jenna. She had been a beautiful girl, she was curious about everything and clearly smart.

And she liked me. Still don't know what she saw in a big dumb Buckeye like me. But we sure hit it off.

Henry remembered the days he would come over after work to help Reuben and little Jenna would toddle out on the porch. “Henny, Henny,” she would call, holding out her arms.

Henry would pick her up and lift her over his head. Jenna would scream with delight while Jerusha smiled at him warmly.

“Touch the roof, Jenna,” Henry would say, and Jenna would reach up in the tall boy's arms and touch the porch roof with her chubby little hands.

“Up again, Henny,” she would say, and Henry would lift her up to touch the roof again.

She would have kept me out there all night touchin' the roof. She was such a sweet little thing.

The memory touched a not-quite-healed place in his heart.

Mr. Hershberger, Jenna's grandfather, doted on her and made excuses to come by often after his chores were done just to sit on the Springer porch at sundown with little Jenna curled up in his arms, listening to the songbirds in the Buckeye trees.

Jenna would lay still with her hand touching her grandfather's beard and her little thumb in her mouth. Henry often found the two of them sitting still on the porch, Grandpa sound asleep with the little girl in his arms. She would smile at Henry as she cuddled against her grandfather and softly stroked his beard.

She was like a ray of sunshine even on the darkest days.

When he was at the Springer house, Henry sometimes asked Reuben why the Amish were the way they were.

“You know, Henry,” Reuben would say, “I've seen both sides of life—the
Englisch
way and the Amish way, and believe me, the Amish way is best. I didn't always think so, but I've seen some pretty horrible things out there, things that are born out of love for the world and for the power the world offers. If you'd have seen what I've seen, you'd know why I believe that the way of peace is the best way.”

Henry trudged on through the snow. He hadn't seen a car since he started, but the storm was fierce and Kidron was a back road, so it made sense that people wouldn't be out. This was a pretty desolate part of the county, so Henry hadn't expected to see much traffic. His had been the only car on the road when they left Apple Creek.

I sure didn't think it would take this long or that the storm would get so bad. Maybe I should have walked back to the county highway and waited for a car to pass.

Soon Henry had to force his way through drifts as the road was completely covered with snow. His eyes began playing tricks on him. Everything was so white, Henry realized he couldn't tell where he was going. He tried to see through the whiteout to find some familiar landmark but to no avail.

Suddenly he slipped and felt himself sliding into a shallow ditch. He clambered out the other side onto what looked like a lane lined with trees. He could see the branches of the closest trees on either side of him waving wildly in the wind. He began to walk slowly down the lane.

In a few minutes a wooden post with a mailbox on it appeared out of the storm, and he saw the name Knepp on the side.

Mark Knepp's place! I must have walked straight across the meadow without even realizing I was off the pavement.

Mark Knepp was an old widower. He had a phone and could call for help. That was Henry's only hope. He was losing feeling in his hands and feet.

He stumbled to where he thought the Knepp driveway should be.
If I remember, the mailbox was out on the lane, and the driveway to the house was down a ways on the right side.

Henry looked for a light or a shed or anything that would tell him he was close to the house. He stumbled along, panic rising in his chest.

Just then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a tree limb, torn loose by the wind and falling directly at him. Before he could duck, the limb struck him squarely on the side of his head. Henry crumpled into the snow like a polled ox and slipped into darkness as the snow piled up around him.