A Quilt for Jenna (29 page)

“Thank you for coming, Bobby,” Reuben said softly.

“I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

They stood and looked at each other, and again Jerusha saw a look pass between them, a message that conveyed both a shared joy and an unspoken sorrow. She knew instinctively that the look held the key to Reuben's unhappiness, and it occurred to her that it would be good to cultivate Bobby's friendship if she were to help Reuben come back to himself.

“Will you be staying for the reception, Mr. Halverson?” she asked.

Bobby laughed out loud. “Mrs. Springer, no one has called me Mr. Halverson since I got in trouble in high school. If you would be so kind as to never call me that again, I would be most grateful. It's Bobby.”

Jerusha liked this Bobby Halverson. “Agreed, Bobby,” she said, “and you must call me Jerusha.”

“It's a deal,” said Bobby. “As for the reception, I really can't stay. I have another obligation. I'll be taking my leave, but not before I wish you my most heartfelt congratulations.”

Bobby took Reuben's hand in his and shook it again and then turned to Jerusha.

“I noticed that there wasn't a lot of huggin' and kissin' going on,” he whispered, “so I'll just follow protocol and wish you the best with a handshake.”

“Our door is always open to you, Bobby Halverson,” she said as she took his hand.

For the second time that day she saw a tear start in a man's eye, and then Bobby released her hand, turned, and was gone.

“Why won't he stay, Reuben?” she asked, turning to her husband.

“Bobby isn't a religious man,” Reuben said. “I'm sure it was hard enough for him to come and hear the sermon and listen to the hymns. But he's a good man, and I hope that someday he will come to God. I'm sure he feels awkward among total strangers—especially so many Amish strangers. It's enough for me that he came today, and I'm glad you opened our home to him. He's been as close as a brother to me. We...”

Reuben paused just as Jerusha's parents came to lead them to the reception, where the celebration continued. Jerusha's family moved the tables to seat the guests, and Jerusha's mother and her relatives brought out the feast.

Reuben and Jerusha sat in the front corner of the room at the
Eck
table and were the first ones served. There were so many people that they filled the reception room three times to eat in shifts. After the noon meal, there was singing. Then Jerusha's mother reminded her that it was time for “going to the table.” She appointed two married couples to oversee the tradition. They went to the unmarried women between sixteen and thirty and invited them to sit in one of the large upstairs bedrooms. The men went out to the barn, where they stood around joking and visiting. Reuben and Jerusha went out to the barn and talked to the young men, trying to convince them to go into the house and upstairs where the girls were waiting.

“You must go in now,” Jerusha said. “The girls are waiting, and you will spoil my wedding if you don't go in.”

The young men hemmed and hawed and shuffled their feet. Many of the older boys had cast an appreciative eye on Jerusha in the past, and so in the end it was easy for her to convince them. One by one they went upstairs and asked their favorite girl to “go to the table.”

The couples held hands as they came down the stairs and sat at the long table. Meanwhile the older folks sat on benches throughout the house. From time to time the group would break into a hymn. While they were singing, Jerusha's parents passed around candies, fruits, cookies, and small pieces of cake. The singing went on until finally Jerusha and Reuben left the table. Then the unmarried couples left the table and went into the barn and talked.

Jerusha and Reuben saw to it that every unmarried person over the age of sixteen had a partner for the evening table. Tradition allowed anyone who didn't wish to take part to go home, and then the bride and groom led the couples in a procession into the house. Gaslights gave off their soft glow as the Hershberger home resonated with the laughter and songs of the guests.

Jerusha sat with Reuben, and the wonder of the moment filled her heart. Reuben held her hand, and from time to time he would look into her eyes and smile. It was in one of these unguarded moments that Jerusha felt bold enough to ask, “Reuben, you said that you and Bobby shared some things during the war, and then you stopped. Will you tell me someday?”

Reuben set his face in a curious way. He tried to be gentle as he spoke to her, but there was an unaccustomed edge that frightened her. “I'll say this once, and then I wish never to speak of it again. In the war I learned that God was right all along. To kill another man is the most horrible act that one human being can do. I did things in battle that only an animal would do. I'm ashamed to the depths of my soul that I ever violated God's Word. I have returned home to a way of life that will keep me from the world and from all the horror that men do to one another. I will not speak of it again. If you love me, Jerusha, you will let this matter be.”

Jerusha flinched as though he had struck her. The tone in his voice and the look in his eyes let her know without question that she had struck a deep and dark area in her husband's soul. The small voice in her heart spoke again.

Reuben is not a well man. You must stand with him in his sorrow.

She refused the thought and fought back.
No. Reuben and I will be happy...forever.

“You're right, my husband,” she said quietly. “I will not ask again.”

The tenseness went out of Reuben's face. “Thank you, Jerusha,” he said. “Thank you.”

The weeks after the wedding sped along. Winter set in, and Reuben and Jerusha Springer made visits to their friends and neighbors, who gave them gifts. With the help of their families and the community, Reuben spent many days working on a house situated on the creek that ran through her father's property.

By spring they were ready to move. On a day in early April, when flowers were blossoming and songbirds had returned to make their nests in the willow trees, Reuben took her from her father's house to their new home. As he took her in his arms to carry her across the threshold, Jerusha asked him to wait.

“Before we go in, my darling,” she whispered in his ear, “I have something to tell you.”

“At a moment like this? What can you possibly tell me now?” he asked in surprise.

“Reuben...we're going to have a baby.”

Reuben's eyes opened wide, and a huge smile broke across his face. His arms tightened close around her, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She could feel quiet sobs shake his shoulders, and then he looked up with tears lining his face.

“Thank you, my darling wife,” was all he said, and then he carried her across the threshold. And Reuben and Jerusha entered into a season of their lives filled with great joy.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-O
NE

To Every Thing There Is a Season

S
UMMER IS A LOVELY TIME OF YEAR
in Apple Creek. Long, languid days are followed by clear, warm evenings. The night sky is brilliant with stars. The fields and orchards around the village are bursting with life. And for Reuben and Jerusha, even after all the summers they had experienced in Apple Creek, the summer of 1944 held a special splendor.

A great part of their happiness was focused on the child growing within Jerusha, and even more, God seemed to reach down from His throne and mark each day with an overpowering sense of wonder and destiny. The war raged on in the Pacific and Europe, but it didn't seem to touch Apple Creek. Instead, peace and joy filled the village.

Reuben spent most of his time in the fields, cultivating the potatoes and vegetables and watching as the heads of wheat and the ears of corn began to fill and grow heavy, portending a bumper crop. Sometimes he paused in amazement at the richness all around him, and the words of a Hebrew blessing he had learned from his childhood friend, Sammy, often came to his memory.

“
Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha-olam, bo're p'ri ha-adama.
”

“
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the ground.
”

Each morning Jerusha rose early to milk the cows and goats and churn some of the rich cream into butter, leaving the rest for Reuben to bottle and sell in town. Jerusha loved those early mornings. The cool stillness was a mantle of tranquility that sheltered her world and her baby with serenity. Even the songbirds seemed to speak of God's loving-kindness. Often, at the end of a sweltering day, Reuben and Jerusha sat on their porch as the cool evening air brought them relief and stillness settled over their land, bringing peace.

Sometimes Reuben sat quietly, not speaking, but smiling while Jerusha fanned herself and chatted about the events of her day. Or Jerusha listened to Reuben speak about the crops or expected weather patterns. Sometimes she thought about the times before their marriage when she sat enthralled as Reuben poured out his dreams and ambitions and shared his knowledge of music and art and even other faiths—but those times were now locked away in Reuben's heart, and he spoke of them no more.

Eventually that wonderful summer drew to a close, and the leaves began to turn gold and red. The fields groaned with the richness of the harvest, and the Amish brought their horses and their combines and began to reap the fruit of their labors.

As at no other time, the reality and necessity of their decision to remain separate from the world came upon the Amish men. Life was work, and work was with their hands and animals and simple machines. They became one with the land, moving on it in unison, pushing their strong bodies to the limits of endurance. Yet even as they struggled, they rejoiced in the power they had together in a world given to them by a loving God.

Reuben worked dawn to dusk beside the other men as they moved from field to field, harvesting corn, wheat, potatoes, and barley in such abundance that more buildings were quickly constructed to contain it all. Often the men stopped at the end of a day and stood with their hats in their hands while the sun set in the west, and they sang together of God's goodness and blessing.

As the fall turned toward winter and the mornings began with a chill, Jerusha began to look forward more and more to the birth of their baby. The harvest was in, the fall weddings had taken place, and now Jerusha was in the last days of her pregnancy. She had put on weight and felt awkward and unlovely, but Reuben paid more attention to her and saw to it that she was comfortable and cared for. Most of all, he expressed his love for her in a hundred simple ways, from helping with housework to bringing her small gifts. One day she found a wonderful handcrafted cradle beside the bed. It was made of clear pine and detailed beautifully, and she realized that Reuben must have worked on it for months.

From time to time, Bobby came by to visit. Those were good times, for Reuben loved Bobby like a brother, and because her husband did, Jerusha grew to love Bobby as well. He was a gentle man, very solicitous of her condition and always ready with a kind word or a smile. They would have dinner together, and then he and Reuben would sit and talk while Jerusha worked on a quilt or sewed clothing for the baby.

Of course, Bobby and Reuben didn't speak of the war except in general terms, but Jerusha knew they shared an unspoken bond of suffering.