Read Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) Online
Authors: Patrick E Craig
Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (2 page)
Chapter Nineteen: The Journals of Jenny Hershberger
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Truth
Chapter Twenty-Four: One Heart—Two Lives
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Third Day
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Dream Slips Away
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Decision
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Another Homecoming
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Fountain
Chapter Thirty: Songs from the Heart
Chapter Thirty-One: Big Business
Chapter Thirty-Two: Beyond the Veil
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Visit
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Proposal
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Offer
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Jenny’s Choice
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Only by Grace
Epilogue: Among the Trees of Eden
Praise for the first two books in Patrick Craig’s Apple Creek Dreams Series
W
HEN
I
FIRST STARTED WRITING
the Apple Creek Dreams Series, I was amazed at the way my characters seemed to spring from the ground, fully developed, letting me see and record all of their strengths and flaws as though I were writing their biographies. First, I wrote about Jerusha Springer and her encounter with God in the Great Storm of 1950 that paralyzed Ohio. Then, I shared the story of Jenny Springer, Jerusha and Reuben’s adopted daughter, and her impassioned search for her own identity, which threatened to take her outside the Amish community of Apple Creek.
For the third book, I fully intended to write the story of Rachel Hershberger, Jenny’s daughter. But when I finished
The Road Home,
I was startled to discover that I had come to love Jenny Hershberger—her strength, her passion, her mind, her love for God…she had captured my heart. I kept trying to move on to Rachel’s tale, but I could not. So I asked my publisher if I could continue with Jenny’s story, and Harvest House graciously gave me permission to do so.
So here is the rest of Jenny’s story. For the romantic, it’s the story of true love. For the pragmatist, it’s the story of a gift given and a gift
received. And for the one who longs for adventure, it’s the journey of a tiny girl who is found beside a frozen pond in the heart of a blizzard, the road a young woman travels to find her way home, and the coming to fruition of the gift that God placed in her heart.
Sometimes I think life is like a rushing river that begins its journey high in the mountains, tumbles down over jagged rocks, rushes headlong over cliffs, and pours booming through nameless chasms until at last it escapes the harsh stone walls to the broad plain spread before it, flowing deep and quiet through lush meadows between banks that hold it tenderly.
On the way to this place, we usually make choices quickly and without thinking, like those a boatman makes as his vessel poises on the brink before it plunges headlong into the rapids. We look back on these instantaneous choices and understand, with a quiet shudder in our soul, the eternal enormity of a moment.
But even so, the choices we make as we drift in the place of safety and security can be the most consequential. For every soldier knows that in the lush growth beside a quiet river, or beneath the deep underbrush of a peaceful forest, the enemy is most likely to be hidden.
“Choices”
from the journals of Jenny Hershberger
N
OVEMBER
1978
J
ENNY
H
ERSHBERGER WALKED SLOWLY INTO
the room and surveyed the piles of boxes waiting to be moved out to the wagon. Her eyes turned to a heap of clothing spread across the bed. With a weary sigh she brushed back an errant curl that had escaped from her
kappe.
Each item she looked at seemed to have a mouth clamoring for her attention, each with a story to tell or a memory to unveil.
This will be the hard part
.
She went to the pine dresser—the first big project Jonathan had undertaken after Grandfather Borntraeger began to teach him woodworking. The detailing was coarse and the lines of the piece a bit awkward, but she had loved it from the moment Jonathan moved it into their room. She remembered him standing proudly beside it as she ran her hands over the top and opened each drawer as though it were a treasure trove. She loved the smell of the linseed oil he had rubbed into the wood, and when she had spread a lace piece over the top and placed her things there, it had become a symbol of all that Jonathan had left behind from his old life and all that he had become to be with her.
Now she picked up one of the objects on the top of the dresser, a small box. A sharp, almost physical pain touched her heart as she opened the lid. Inside were several folded pieces of paper. She took one out, slowly spread it open on the dresser, and began to read.
My precious Jenny,
It’s the end of another long day here in Paradise. I’ve been in the fields since daybreak with Grandfather Borntraeger. As soon as the thaw came and the soil started to warm, we began preparing the ground for spring planting. This is the hardest work I’ve ever done, yet at the same time it is the most fulfilling. Your grandfather is a kind man, but he’s very strict and doesn’t put up with any complaining or questioning of his methods.
Since I’m so new to this, he must teach me as we work. I feel like a little boy all over again, but he’s very patient with me even when I make mistakes.
I’m beginning to comprehend so many things, especially about God and His Son, Jesus. The Bible is a wonderful book. Did you know that God made the first man out of dirt? I wonder if that’s why I feel so at home on the land. When I’m out in the fields with Grandfather Borntraeger, walking behind the plow, I feel as though my life finally means something, as if this is the most natural and real way I could ever be. As I work, I remember the words of a song I heard the Amish men singing when I first came to Apple Creek.
Let him who has laid his hand on the plow not look back! Press on to the goal! Press on to Jesus Christ! The one who gains Christ will rise with Him from the dead on the youngest day.
That’s who I want to be—the one who lays his hand to the plow and doesn’t look back!
Jenny didn’t finish reading, but folded the letter and placed it back in the box. Tears formed in her eyes as she stood alone in the room, lost in her sorrow.
“Mama?”
A quiet little voice spoke from the doorway. Jenny turned to the young girl who stood there. She was small, with dark hair and deep, sea-blue eyes.
She has his eyes—she’s so much like him.
Jenny went to the girl and stooped down as she took the little one in her arms and lifted her into a hug. The girl softly touched Jenny’s face.
“Why are you crying, Mama?” she asked.
“It’s nothing, my Rachel,” Jenny answered. “I was only reading your papa’s letters, the ones he wrote to me before we were courting, when he lived here with your great-grandfather and learned the Amish ways. He wrote to me every day of the two years we were apart. I kept the most special letters in this box so I could read them now and again and let
du lieber Gott
remind me how much He blessed me by sending me your papa.”
“Is Papa happy in heaven?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, yes, my dearest; Papa is very, very happy with Jesus and all the angels.”
“Why do we have to move to another house, Mama? I like our house. What if Papa decides to come back from heaven and he can’t find us? Won’t he be sad?”
Jenny sat on the bed and set Rachel down beside her. “Papa won’t come back from heaven, darling. Heaven is so
wunderbar
that once you’ve gone there, you don’t ever want to come back. And we wouldn’t want to call him back to this world once he’s been with Jesus. He will wait for us there, and one day we will join him and be with him again.
“In the meantime, we’re sad that he’s gone…very sad. We must move because it’s very hard for your mama to live here without Papa. There are so many things that make me remember him, and my heart breaks again each time I see them. I need to go back to my old home and be with my mama and papa so they can help me not to feel this way. And they will help you to be happy again. Your
grossdaadi
can’t wait for you to come, and Mama, my mama, has prepared a special room just for you. You will love being with them. Thanksgiving and Christmas will be here soon, and it will be comforting to be in Apple Creek with our family and friends for the holidays.”
“Oh, yes, Mama, I love
Grossmudder
and
Grossdaadi.
It will be nice to see them. But won’t we ever come back to Paradise?”
“Only
der vollkluge Gott
knows the answer to that question, my darling. Now, do you have all your things packed up like I asked you?”
“Mostly, Mama. Can you help me with the rest?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, dearest. I’ll be there in a bit, when I finish here. Run ahead.”
Rachel bounced off the bed and ran from the room. Jenny smiled as she watched her go.
She has her papa’s eyes and my bounce!
Jenny sighed again as Jonathan crowded back into her thoughts. She stood up, grabbed an empty box, and quickly put the letter box and the rest of the items from the dresser top into it. Then she folded up the lace piece, placed it on top of her other belongings, and closed the box. She set it with the others, piled the clothing on a chair by the door, and then pulled the quilt and the linens from the bed. She folded them and put them into the last remaining empty box. She surveyed the stack of boxes and then went to the closet and took out her suitcase. Carefully she packed her clothing in it and snapped the latches shut. The click of the latches echoed in the room like tiny gunshots. Finished.
