A Quilt for Jenna (4 page)

“I'm sorry, Henry,” she called. “I'll be ready in a jiffy.”

Jerusha quickly slipped into her clothes, rolled her braided hair into a knot, and pulled on her prayer
kappe.
She gathered her things and then went into the sewing room, where the quilt lay neatly folded on the table. She unfolded it and began to examine every detail one more time. She checked the stitching but could not see any mistakes or overruns. The pattern was totally unique, and the material was beautiful. As it lay on the table before her, the colors shimmered and shifted in the light. The quilt felt alive to her, and in a way it was. She had poured her memories of Jenna's life and her anguish and grief into this quilt, and the result was truly a masterpiece, a symphony in color and design. She carefully refolded the quilt.

I put all of my skill and all my feelings into this quilt. I'm going to win that prize, and with the money, I'll get a new start. I'll be free. Free to do what I want to do and go where I will. This is a quilt for Jenna and for me. It's my ticket away from here and from You.

“You don't own me anymore!” she hissed into the silent room.

She then placed the quilt in a cardboard box and folded the flaps together. On the side of the box she wrote, “The Rose of Sharon—quilt by Jerusha Springer.”

A knock on the door startled her, and Henry called out from the porch.

“We got to get going, Missus Springer. The storm is picking up, and it will take us a long time to get there as it is.”

“I'll be finished in a minute, Henry,” Jerusha said as she opened the door. “Please, could you carry my things to the car?”

“Glad to, ma'am,” Henry said with a look of relief on his face. “I hope you dressed warm.”

“Indeed I did,” Jerusha said as she pulled on her long winter coat. She handed Henry the box that held the quilt and slipped her galoshes over her lace-up shoes. She started out the door but then paused and looked back into the house.

This place used to ring with laughter, and joy and blessing overflowed. I had my life and my good husband and my little girl. It was as if the angels stood round about this house and guarded it from any harm. And then You took her from me and You stripped away every bit of joy and left only this darkness and pain. Soon I will leave this place and I'll not look back.

Jerusha collected her thoughts and then stepped out and closed the door. The clicking of the latch had a final sound that pleased her. She turned to the young man who was standing expectantly on the porch.

“I'm ready, Henry. Thank you so much for taking me.” She smiled quickly and then stepped out into the cold. The icy snow hit her face like needles.

Henry walked down the steps and opened the door to the backseat of his sedan.

“I've got chains if we need them,” he said. “But these snow tires ought to keep her on the road. She's real heavy and she goes through the drifts like a truck. I figure we'll take the county highway to Carr Road and then cut over to Kidron Road. Bobby usually keeps that plowed pretty good during storms, and it's the quickest way into Dalton. Are you sure they're going to have the quilt fair, Missus Springer, given the weather and all?”

“They have never cancelled this fair, and even if they postpone it, I need to see the fair manager. I've arranged for a place to stay, and I'll be fine. I have your phone number, and I'll go to the store and call you to make arrangements to get back home, or I'll take the bus.”

“Okay, Missus Springer, whatever you say. If I didn't have to get up there myself today for Thanksgiving at my grandma's, I might be having second thoughts about going.”

Henry had a grim look on his face, but Jerusha dismissed his frown.

Today is Thanksgiving. I completely forgot. But then, what do I have to be thankful for?

Jerusha climbed into the car, and Henry got in behind the wheel and started the Buick. He headed the car out of the driveway, the tires crunching on the new-fallen snow as he turned onto the long gravel road to the county highway. Suddenly a powerful sense of expectancy swept over Jerusha, a feeling so intense that she nearly cried out for joy. But she held her words and sat in the backseat trembling as they began the journey, out and away, away from this place and from these people and from this God—the God of broken dreams and lost hope and beaten-down faith.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The Storm

B
OBBY
H
ALVERSON WAS OUT EARLY
on Thanksgiving morning. Snowfall had been steady all through the night, and the temperature had dropped into the twenties. Bobby had been running his plow up and down Highway 30, the main route between Wooster and Dalton, since five.

The old tractor had been running pretty smoothly, and the heated cab kept Bobby fairly warm. On his second pass toward Dalton, he turned south onto Carr Road and headed back toward Apple Creek. He crossed County Highway 188 and continued toward Dover Road. Along the way he checked the driveways and lanes that opened out onto the road. Many of his Amish friends lived on farms along here, and they didn't have powerful enough equipment to clear their roads in a major snowstorm. So far the area had received only about five inches, but Bobby knew more was coming.

As he plowed south along the road, he saw Henry Lowenstein's old Buick coming toward him. As they pulled alongside each other, Bobby throttled down the tractor and stopped. Henry pulled up alongside and rolled down the window of the old sedan. Bobby leaned out of the window of his cab and called over the sound of the rising wind.

“Hey, Henry, where you headed in this weather?”

“Hey yourself, Bobby,” Henry called back. “I'm headed to Dalton to my grandma's house for dinner. Takin' Missus Springer up to the quilt fair.”

Bobby hadn't noticed Jerusha in the backseat. He had once been close to Reuben and Jerusha. He and Reuben had been like brothers.

“Howdy, Jerusha,” Bobby called down with a smile.

“Hello, Bobby,” Jerusha answered, looking straight ahead.

Bobby understood and let it pass. He turned to Henry.

“You better get a move on. The wind has picked up quite a bit, and the snow is really gonna start coming down. It's getting colder too. I sure don't like the looks of this storm. It's gonna be a whopper.”

“Don't worry about me, Bobby,” Henry called back. “This old warhorse is like a tank. Got a great heater, and she's heavy enough to go right through the drifts.”

“Okay, then,” Bobby said. “But keep your eyes on the road. There's a lot of black ice between here and Dalton, and the snow has been filling in behind me as I plow. I'm expecting the main part of the storm to be on us a lot quicker than we expect.”

“Will do, Bobby!” Henry yelled over the wind. He put the car in gear and chugged up the road.

Bobby had an uneasy feeling as he watched Henry head north. He pushed on the tractor's throttle and began heading south to the county highway. About a quarter of a mile down the road, he turned left and pulled into the Borntrager farm, plowing the snow into the ditch as he headed down the lane. Amos was out in front of the barn getting his cows inside. He waved as Bobby rumbled up.

“Everything okay, Amos?” Bobby asked from the cab.

“Doin' fine, Bobby, just fine,” Amos answered. “Thanks for plowin' her out for me. I got lots of propane and plenty of food, so I think we'll be all right until she blows over.”

“Well, I'll look back in on you next pass through,” Bobby called as he turned around in the farmyard and headed back toward Apple Creek. He turned south onto Carr Road and passed the Albrecht place and then the Kopfensteins'. Bobby could see the families out battening down their barns and sheds and getting their livestock under cover. He then pulled onto the county highway and headed west into Apple Creek. The wind began to howl, and Bobby noticed that his cab was considerably colder.

She's coming, and she's a mean one. This is gonna be nasty.
The tractor throbbed beneath him as he headed west. Bobby Halverson had a very bad feeling about this storm.

He had a good reason to fear this storm. Two hundred fifty miles to the east, the wind was gusting at over eighty miles per hour. Large areas of the Northeast were experiencing massive tree damage and power outages. Coastal waves and tidal surges from the high winds breached dikes around LaGuardia and flooded the airport runways, shutting down the air traffic there. In Pennsylvania, the Schuylkill River reached flood stage as more than thirty inches of snow accumulated in Pittsburgh. Two fronts of the storm, one moving down from Canada and one up from the south, joined over Lake Erie and moved west and south, bringing freezing temperatures and record snowfall. The barometric pressure inside the storm had plummeted over Washington DC, and the storm began to rotate counterclockwise, transforming into a huge, six-thousand-foot-high cyclone with winds that would eventually top a hundred miles an hour.

Henry reached Kidron Road and turned north. He was looking for the turnoff to Nussbaum Road. That was the shortcut that took almost a mile off the trip into Dalton. The wind had picked up, and Henry could feel the car shake as the gusts struck. The snow was thick, and visibility was only about three hundred feet. Still, Henry wanted to get to Dalton before the worst of it hit, so he picked up speed. He leaned forward, peering through the window as the snow closed in. Visibility was decreasing.

He slowed down a bit. What was that ahead? Something in the road, but what? It was some black...Before he could finish the thought, the cow turned toward the car and into its path. Henry pulled the car to the right to swing around the animal and then jerked the wheel to the left.

The confused cow stood her ground as the car hit her in the hindquarters. She spun around and then staggered off up the road.

Henry tried to turn into the skid as he felt himself sliding off the road, but the big Buick lost traction, and the rear end began to swing around, guiding the car over the side of the road backward and into a ditch.

When the car settled, Henry took stock of himself and asked, “You okay, Missus Springer?”

“I think I twisted my neck,” Jerusha said. “But other than that I seem to be all in one piece.”

Henry climbed out of the car and went around to the back to look at the now-blown tires.

Then he made his way up the ditch and onto the road to see if he could find the cow. She lay in the ditch about fifty feet away, jerking in spasmodic death throes. He cursed under his breath and then walked back to the car and climbed into the front seat.

“We're stuck good, ma'am,” he said. “I only got one spare tire, and both the back tires are blown. Don't think I could get us out of this ditch even with both tires. We're going to need a tow truck.”

“What'll we do?” Jerusha asked.

“I know where we are,” Henry said. “That was one of old man Johnston's cows—I can tell by the cut ear. That means we're about four miles out of town. I think you should stay here and keep as warm as you can while I go for help. I got an extra blanket in the trunk, and you're dressed pretty warm, so you should be okay.”

“Are you sure you shouldn't just stay here, Henry?” asked Jerusha, her voice sounding a little frightened. “Surely someone will come by and see us.”