Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (15 page)

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“It’s just that…oh, Mama! I was working with Jeremy and he started saying things that…I guess they got too much inside me. I felt like I was being burned with a hot iron, right on an open wound. I yelled at him and left him sitting there in the coffee shop.”

“Was he asking about Jonathan?”

“In a way. I mean, he didn’t ask any personal questions, he just said that it was time for me to move on. It made me furious, and I don’t know why.”

Jerusha took her daughter’s hand and softly stroked it. “I know, Jenny. I know the rage and the anger and the fear you’re feeling. When Jenna died, I cursed
Gott
from the very depths of my soul. I couldn’t understand how such a terrible thing could happen when I loved
Gott
so much, and when I loved Jenna so much.”

“How did you deal with it, Mama?”

“Mostly
Gott
dealt with me. He knew I needed to grieve for my little girl, but He wanted me to know He wasn’t the one who took her from me. After a while I saw that we live in a world marred by terrible things that happen to people every day, and I started to come to grips with my pain.

Jerusha got up and went to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and looked out.

“Disease and death are in the world because of sin, and we’re all subject to their power.
Gott
dealt with it all by sending His Son to pay the price for that sin with His precious blood. We will be free from it someday, but never in this life. When we understand that, we can be more accepting when terrible things happen.”

“When does the pain go away, Mama?”

Jerusha turned and looked into Jenny’s eyes. “Never.”

Jeremy King looked at the short handwritten note on his desk. It was from Jenny. It had been a week since she exploded at him, and he sincerely regretted causing the incident. Now he eagerly read the words she had written.

Jeremy took a piece of plain paper and a pen and wrote a reply.

Jeremy folded the note and put it into an envelope. As he addressed it, he realized with a start that he was more than anxious to see Jenny again.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Opposition

I
T WAS LATE
S
EPTEMBER IN
Apple Creek. Jenny stood at the window and watched the red and yellow leaves of the Buckeye trees drifting down from branches that were rapidly being unclothed by the changing season. The afternoon sun was still warm, but behind it the teeth of winter prepared to bite the land. A year had passed since Jenny had come back to her old home, and her life seemed to be sorting itself out. The book was progressing, and her friendship with Jeremy seemed to be back on an even keel. And still her thoughts stirred as she gazed silently out the window.

Why do I seem out of balance? Everything is going smoothly, and yet my spirit is still uneasy.

She sighed and turned to find her daughter silently creeping up on her. When Rachel saw that she was discovered, she leapt up with both hands extended like claws.

“Boo!” Rachel shouted.

Jenny clutched at her heart with both hands and cried out in mock terror. “Oh, no! A bear! Save me, save me!”

She spun around to run but turned her foot and tripped. As she collapsed onto the sofa, Rachel pounced on her like a tiger.

“Raaawwwwerr! I’m going to eat you, so I’ll be fat for hibernation time.”

“Noooo, don’t eat me, don’t eat me,” Jenny cried, laughing. “Take me home instead, and I’ll clean your cave while you’re sleeping and make you a big dinner of chicken and biscuits when you wake up in the spring!”

Rachel paused in her chomping motions.

“Chicken and biscuits? Okay, I won’t eat you. But you’ll have to keep the fire going too so the cave will stay warm all winter.”

“All right, Mr. Bear,” Jenny laughed again. “Whatever you say.”

“But before I take you to my cave, I’m going to give you a big bear hug.”

Jenny grabbed her little girl and hugged her. They lay on the couch, giggling together. Finally they got themselves under control and sat up. Rachel took Jenny’s hand.

“Mama, can you tell me a story about Papa? Sometimes I have a hard time remembering things about him. I feel like I’m forgetting him, and I don’t want to.”

Jenny pulled Rachel close. A sharp, almost physical pain stabbed her heart, and she paused a moment before she spoke.

“When I first met your papa, he was what they called a hippie. He had just come to Ohio from San Francisco, and he dressed very strangely.”

“What’s a Safacisco, Mama?”

“San Francisco. It’s a big city in California. That’s a state right on the ocean, way west from here.”

“Mama, we learned about the ocean in our school. I would like to see the ocean sometime.”

Jenny thought about that.
I hope I’m not there when you see it, Rachel.

She went on. “When I first met your papa, he almost ran me over in his van. When he got out to see if I was all right, he looked like he belonged in a circus. He had long hair and a leather jacket with fringes on it and striped pants with green boots. He looked very funny.”

“Did you love him anyway?”

Jenny thought back to that day—the electric shock that had gone up her arm when he took her hand, the deep voice that had thrilled her heart, and then his eyes—oh, his wonderful deep-blue eyes.

“You know, Rachel, I think I did. Now that I look back on it, I think I loved your papa from the first moment I saw him.”

“And did he love you back?”

Jenny paused again.
He said he loved me from that moment too. And I know he did. How does that happen?

“Yes, Rachel, he loved me too.”

“That’s good, Mama. That’s a good thing.”

Jenny pulled Rachel even closer. “Yes, my darling, that was a very good thing.”

“Thank you, Mama. I need to hear about Papa so I won’t forget him. Will you always help me to remember?”

“Until my dying day, my precious one. Until my dying day.”

That evening, Reuben came home late from the fields with a sour look on his face. Jenny could see storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

Jenny helped him take off his coat. “What is it, Papa?”

“Is there any coffee made?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“Yes, it’s on the stove. I made it an hour ago, so it’s fresh.”

Reuben went into the kitchen while Jenny hung his coat and hat on the rack by the door. She heard him pour a cup of coffee, muttering under his breath. When she heard the chair scraping up to the table as he sat down, she went into the kitchen.

“Okay, Papa. What is it?”

He frowned and took a sip. Then he set his cup down and looked at her. “I had some callers today.”

“Who, Papa?”

“The visiting
bisschop
and one of the elders.”

“What about, Papa?”

“They came to talk to me about your book.”

Jenny felt the unease stir back to life.
Maybe this is what I was sensing this afternoon.

“My book? But what did they want to talk about?”

“They came to me because they heard you were writing a novel and they had deep concerns about it, especially the
bisschop
.”

“What kind of concerns, Papa?”

“They don’t think it’s a good thing for an Amish woman to be an author, especially a fiction author. They say it’s not edifying to the Amish community and will bring reproach on the name of Jesus.”

A strange mixture of anger and pain stirred inside Jenny. “But it is the name of Jesus I want to glorify with my writing.”

“I know that, but they do not. They want to read some of the book and meet with you about it. I’m not sure it will go well, Jenny. The visiting
bisschop
is from Lancaster. I think I told you before that they interpret the
Ordnung
much more strictly than we do.”

Jenny twisted her apron between her fingers. “Why is he even out here then, Papa?”

“He has come to help oversee the founding of a new church in Dalton. Our
bisschop
knows him, and because he is so busy with the Apple Creek and Wooster churches, he asked
Bruder
Lapp to come assist him. While he’s here, he has as much authority as our own
bisschop.
”

“When do they want to meet?”

“They would like to come here next Sunday after church. I have agreed.”

“Oh, Papa, what will they do?”

“It’s an interesting situation. Our own
bisschop
is trying to stay out of it. I’ve explained to him about the book, and he seems more accepting of my side of the story. But
Bisschop
Lapp is insistent on looking into it, so Johann must go along with him. I’m sorry, Jenny, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t guess what they will do. I hope it doesn’t become an awkward situation.
Bisschop
Lapp seems to be fairly stiff-necked.

Reuben clenched his fists and then spread his fingers out on the tabletop. “He reminds me of me about thirty years ago.”