Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (4 page)

They’re planting potatoes!

Somehow it was very comforting to Jonathan to catch even a glimpse of them as he passed, and after that he relaxed a little.

Maybe this won’t be such a bad trip after all.

He read the signs for the towns they passed: Lynbrook, Rockville, Freeport, Merrick…

Every town has a memory. How many times did I ride this train when I was a kid?

He remembered visiting friends, going to the city to see a favorite band, or just jumping on the train to escape the monotony of his home. He remembered his family’s old house in Levittown and was immediately flooded with unpleasant memories of his absentee father and his alcoholic mother. No, he remembered his youthful home, but he did not miss it.

The only place I’ve ever really felt at home is on the farm in Paradise with Jenny and Rachel.

Now he was headed to the end of Long Island for what he hoped would be a short, uneventful visit. He just wanted to see his dad and mom for a few days and then get back home to Paradise. He thought about what he wanted to say while he was there, and as he did, he prayed a simple prayer.

Lord, give me an opportunity to share the gospel with them before I leave.

Two hours later the train rolled into Bridgehampton. A slight drizzle had misted the windows, and Jonathan had gone back to reading his Bible. As the train pulled to a stop, Jonathan stood up, grabbed his suitcase from the rack, stuffed his Bible in his knapsack, and headed for the exit. He climbed down the steps and looked around. At first he didn’t see them, but then, as his eyes swept the platform, he saw his mother waving next to his dad.

“Johnny, Johnny, over here,” his mother called as she waved again.

Jonathan debated for a moment whether he should ask his parents to call him by his real name, but he decided that was a battle he didn’t need to fight.

Show them the love of Christ; let them see Him in me. Christus in mir, die Hoffnung auf den Ruhm.

Jonathan walked up to his parents and let his mother enfold him in a hug. Right away he noticed that she didn’t exude the familiar sickly sweet smell of gin and vermouth. He looked at her face. The old anger was gone from her eyes, and she seemed genuinely glad to see him. He looked over at his dad.

“Hello, Dad,” he said as he put out his hand. “How are you?”

His father reached out and grasped Jonathan’s hand. “Hello…son,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m having a good day today.”

He held onto Jonathan for a moment and then awkwardly took his hand away and let it hang by his side. The two men looked at each other, neither knowing what to say next. Jonathan’s mother jumped into the silence.

“Let’s get your things into the car, and Gerald can drive us home.”

“Gerald?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes, he works for us. He helps your father, drives us when we need to go out, and runs errands for us. He’s by the car, over there.”

She pointed to a tall, athletic-looking black man in a dark suit standing by a Lincoln Town Car. He waved to them, and they all started toward the car. Jonathan noticed his father had a slight limp and that the skin on the back of his hands had large purple bruises. When they came to the car, Jonathan’s parents climbed in the back, and Jonathan sat in the passenger seat next to Gerald.

Jonathan’s mother filled the otherwise awkward silence with chatter about her club and their new home. As Jonathan listened, his thoughts drifted back to his childhood and the hours of his mother’s drunken ramblings.

Not everything has changed, but at least she’s sober today.

“I hope you brought some warm clothing,” his mom said.

“Warm clothing?” he asked.

“Yes, for the boat trip,” his mother answered.

“Mom, you didn’t say anything about a boat trip,” he said.

“Oh, we just decided yesterday,” his mother said. “Your father wanted to take you on the boat, and it’s a fairly short cruise down to the Outer Banks. Then we can stay in the condo at Oracoke Island for a couple of days. We already bought you a train ticket back to New York from there so you can catch your bus back to Pennsylvania when you’re ready to go home.”

“I haven’t been on a boat since I was a teenager,” Jonathan said hesitantly.

His father was dozing off, and his mother leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Please, Johnny. Your dad really wants to take you, and it may be the last time you will ever be with him. And it would give us a chance to talk. I want to tell you about…well, about some changes I’ve made in my life since your father got sick. We have a great crew, and the boat is wonderful. It’s more than just a boat, it’s a yacht. You’ll enjoy yourself. Please.”

As his mother spoke to him, Jenny’s words came back.
“Ever since the letter came, I have had a strange feeling. I don’t have peace in my heart. What if something happens to you? What would we do without you?”

A chill swept down Jonathan’s back, and he recognized an unfamiliar sensation in his stomach—fear.

The next morning dawned dull and gray. As they drove to the dock, Jonathan’s dad pointed out the boat. It was enormous. He noticed the name painted on the bow—
Mistral.
His father brightened noticeably as he surveyed the magnificent yacht.

“Quite a boat,” he said proudly. “She can accommodate up to ten people overnight in four double staterooms and one twin cabin. She
has three four-stroke engines that produce 2400 horsepower each, and her top speed is around 45 knots. She cruises at 35 knots.”

Jonathan stared in awe. “Dad, this boat must have cost a fortune.”

“Well, when I sold my business, we had quite a windfall. We moved out to the Hamptons, and then when I got sick I figured I might as well splurge and buy the one thing I’ve always wanted. So I got the boat at a distress sale. Some sheikh from Dubai needed some cash and let it go for a song.”

They climbed on board as Gerald grabbed the suitcases and carried them aft toward the staterooms. Two men came out of the wheelhouse. One was tall and clean-cut, and the other looked more the sailor. He was shorter with a blond beard and wore a red striped pullover.

“Johnny, this is Jack and Terry,” his dad said. “Jack’s the captain and Terry is his mate, mechanic, and cook. How’s the weather look, boys?”

Terry started to reply. “Well—”

Jack cut him off. “There’s some weather out to sea, but the Coast Guard says it turned south and headed toward Barbados. It won’t even make landfall in the U.S. If we stay close in, we should be down to Oracoke by about five tonight. Might be some onshore swells, but this baby cuts right through.”

He turned to Jonathan, who had on a yellow slicker and a watch cap in place of his black jacket and broad-brimmed hat. Jonathan had made the concession at his mother’s urging when he realized that the first gust of wind would probably carry his hat away.

“Ever been on a boat like this?” Jack asked.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I used to do a little sailing when I was a kid, but nothing bigger than twelve feet. And for the past ten years I’ve been living on a farm where we don’t use any motorized machinery, so I haven’t really been around anything like this before.”

“No motorized machinery?” Terry asked. “Are you Amish or something?”

“Yes, I am,” Jonathan said.

The two men looked at Jonathan with surprise.

“That’s interesting,” Jack said. “Your folks aren’t Amish.”

“No,” Jonathan said, “but our family was originally Amish until the 1700s. My father’s great-grandfather left the faith to become a frontiersman. Eventually he married an Indian woman, and that’s where our side of the family comes from. I only found this out about ten years ago when my Amish wife helped me trace my roots back to the first Amish that settled in Pennsylvania. My wife and her family were instrumental in my coming back to the faith.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Jack said. “Maybe you can tell us a little more about it after we get underway.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jonathan said, casting a glance at his father. Sharing his story was something Jonathan had hoped for…especially in the presence of his parents.

Jack grabbed Terry and pointed him aft. “Okay, let’s get the diesels fired up. I want to make sure that new crankshaft in number two is running smoothly.”

He nodded to Jonathan, and the two men went inside. Gerald returned and helped Jonathan’s dad go aft, leaving Jonathan and his mother alone on the foredeck.

Jonathan’s mother reached over and took her son’s arm and led him to a seating area on the front of the boat. A crisp wind was blowing in from the sea, and the smell of the salt water rode on it like the gulls circling above.

“Johnny…Jonathan, I’ve wanted to tell you something for a long time now.” She seemed to gather her courage and continued. “Let me start by telling you how sorry I am—”

“Sorry for what, Mom?” Jonathan asked.

“For all the years I wasn’t a very good mother because…of my drinking.”

Jonathan looked at her with surprise. She had always been so good at denying her problem and blaming others, especially his dad, so the admission was startling. “Mom, you don’t have to—”

She put her fingers to his lips. “Yes, Jonathan, I do. I hurt you terribly. I know that. And I blamed your father, I blamed his work, his affairs—I blamed everyone, even you. But I never was willing to admit that it was me. I was the one with the problem. So I kept drinking. When your father got sick, he had to stop traveling, and he gave up his girlfriends in his other ‘ports of call,’ so to speak. I think he was really sorry for all the years he was unfaithful, and when he changed, I realized I didn’t have an excuse to stay drunk. I started going to AA and got some help. When they talked about turning my life over to a higher power, that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to put a name and a face to it. And I saw how you turned your life around with your new faith, so I started looking. I found a pastor who helped me see the truth about who God really is and what His Son did for me and I…well, Johnny, I’m a Christian now.”

Jonathan looked at his mother in complete shock, and then the reality of what she had just told him sunk in. He reached over and took his mom into an embrace and held her tight.

“Mom, that’s wonderful. That’s amazing!”

They stayed like that for a long moment, and then she pulled back and reached for a hanky in her jacket pocket.

“What does Dad think?”

“Well, he’s glad that I’ve found something that works for me, as he puts it, but he’s never gone further than that—until the last few weeks,” she said as she dabbed her eyes. “I think he’s staring his own mortality in the face. He knows the cancer is going to kill him in a few months, so he’s been asking me to pray for him. There’s so much between us that it’s hard for me to broach the subject to him, so I was hoping you could talk to him.”

Jonathan looked at her and then silently thanked the Lord.
You are the One who answers prayer!

Down in the engine compartment, Jack and Terry listened to the number two engine.

“Does she sound rough to you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, but it could just be that the new shaft needs to seat itself,” Terry said.

“Well, keep an eye on it. I don’t want anything to spoil this trip.”

The two men turned out the light and climbed out of the hold.

Deep in the heart of engine number two, the new crankshaft continued to rotate with the plunging of the pistons. The tiny crack on the shaft, unnoticed at installation, began to open a millimeter at a time, distorting the shaft and throwing the assembly slightly out of balance. As it did, the minor vibration became more noticeable.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Lost

T
HE GREY-GREEN SEA ROLLED IN
long smooth swells beneath the
Mistral
as the boat powered out around Montauk Point and headed south toward Cape Hatteras. They passed Gardiner’s Island well before dawn and now, three hours later, a gloomy, dark morning had arrived. A slight drizzle drifted in off the North Atlantic. The chill of a winter not yet dead bit Jonathan’s face as he stood on the foredeck watching the gulls circle behind the boat as it raced through the waves. Their plaintive cries whirled away on the wind, and the sea looked ominous and dead.