The Road Home (17 page)

“Wait, you can't go! You have to finish the story!” Johnny stood up and tried to take hold of her arm, but she eluded his grasp and hurried away.

“I'm here twice a week,” she called over her shoulder. “I'll be back on Thursday. Meet me at noon.”

And then she rushed down the hallway and was gone.

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

The Way

J
OHNNY SAT IN THE
D
ODGE
D
ART
in front of the library. It was eleven thirty-five on Thursday, and he had been up since six that morning. He knew he was early, but he was eager to see Jenny again, and there wasn't a lot to do in Apple Creek on a Thursday morning.

He got out to stretch his legs and then got back in the car. He turned on the radio, spun the knob, and dialed in a station from somewhere in Indiana. The announcer was droning on about crop yields and weather reports, interspersing his dialogue with overly hyped commentary about the big sale down at the local Chevrolet dealer and the senior special at a place called Frenchie's Restaurant. Then two little girls came on and sang a song about another local business.

For every heating problem

Be your furnace old or new

Call Boyle Fuel Company

And they'll solve them all for you

If you need coal or oil, call Boyle

Fairfax eight, one-five-two-one,

fairfax eight, one-five-two-one

He tried switching stations to see if anyone was playing some modern music, but the closest he got was Eddy Arnold singing “Make the World Go Away.” With a sigh, he turned off the radio and slumped down in the seat. He had been thinking about Jenny and nothing else for the last two days. His dangerous situation somehow seemed like a distant memory, pushed aside by the powerful feelings the girl evoked in him.

What has gotten into me? This girl is like someone from a different planet. She's bossy and outspoken and emotional…and beautiful and smart…

Johnny climbed back out of the car and slammed the door shut. It was the fourth time he had gotten out since he arrived at the library. He stood on the curb and watched traffic, trying to count how many Buicks went by. Eventually he gave up and walked up and down the library steps to get some exercise.

Finally it was almost noon. He looked down the street and saw the bus approaching. His heart started racing, and his palms began to sweat. The bus pulled up, the door opened, and Jenny got out. She had her wool coat on and her black
kappe
, and Johnny felt as if an angel had stepped off the bus. A question he had never asked himself in his whole life crossed his mind.
Am I in love with her?

They stood for a moment, their eyes locked. A pink blush appeared on Jenny's face, and a faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Johnny instinctively reached for her hand and then pulled back, remembering what she had told him about proper Amish behavior. He didn't know what to do with his hands then, so they hung limply at his side as his eyes drank in her face. After what seemed like forever, he broke the spell.

“Hi, Jenny.”

“Hello, Jonathan.”

Jenny looked down at the ground and they both stood, awkward
and silent. The bus pulled away with a belch of smoke. Then she spoke again. “How are you today?”

“I'm fine. I've been looking forward to hearing more of the story. It's kind of cold today—are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you for asking,” she replied and then stood silent again.

Johnny searched for something else to say.
This is ridiculous. I'm Johnny the Candyman, breaker of hearts, conqueror of San Francisco women. What in the world is happening to me?

“Well, maybe we should go inside,” Jenny said.

“Okay,” Johnny replied.

They walked up the steps together, the tall, long-haired worldling and the little Amish girl. Johnny snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked sad but so beautiful.

They pushed through the big glass doors, and Jenny stopped at the front desk to say hello to Mrs. Blake and remind her that she was helping Jonathan with some historical research. Then they walked down the hall to Jenny's desk. They were silent except for the click, click, click of their shoes on the tile floor.

The sound echoed in the wide hallway, and Johnny felt strange and disconnected as the events of the past days began to push their way back into his mind: Shub's death, the flight from San Francisco, the close call with the gang near Cleveland, and then meeting Jenny and seeing the Amish men. Now he was in a library in Wooster, Ohio, of all places, walking with a wonderful, sweet girl who had somehow captured his heart.

When they came to Jenny's desk, Johnny walked around and pulled out the chair for her. She flashed a little smile at him and sat down. Jenny pulled the book out of the drawer, and Johnny drew up one of the chairs standing by the wall.

“Where were we, do you remember?” she asked.

“The Indians were attacking the house,” Johnny replied.

“That's right, the massacre.”

“Massacre?” Johnny asked.

“Yes. I'm sorry you have to hear this, but it will explain to you how your branch of the family ended up outside the faith,” Jenny said quietly. “Let me finish and you'll see.”

Jenny opened the book to her marker and began reading.

“When Jonas refused to defend the family, Jonathan became outraged with his father and denounced him as a coward. His brother, Joshua, defended our ancestor and took his side, choosing to follow the Amish way with Jonas. Jonathan disregarded them both and said he would go to the
Englischers
who lived nearby and bring help. He went to the back door of the house and, after looking to see if he was being watched, slipped out, promising to return as quickly as he could.

“Meanwhile, the Indians continued to fire rifle shots into the walls of the house. Not meeting with any return fire, the braves grew bolder in their assaults. They took turns running past the front of the house and firing their rifles into the log walls. These acts of bravery seemed to delight them, and they filled the air with whoops and screams.

“Finally, the Indians started a blaze and then produced some torches with which to set the house on fire. As the fire took hold on the roof, the family took refuge in the cellar and endured the smoke as long as they dared. When the flames began eating through the floorboards above their heads, they attempted to escape through the cellar window. They were quickly captured.

“To their horror, they saw that after Jonathan slipped out to go for help, he had been discovered, overpowered, and dragged back to the house. The Indians tormented the entire family and finally killed the girls and the mother.

“A few months before the attack, several Indians had come to the farm pleading for food, but Mother Hershberger had denied them and
forced them to leave. This seems to have caused grave insult to the Indians and most likely was the cause of the attack, as the Indians of the border were known to be implacable in their hatred of any who might insult or dishonor them. But for this unkindness, the Hershbergers might have remained unmolested, but as there had been several other incidents along the border that spring, it is impossible to know.

“Jonas was carried into captivity along with his two twin sons. The younger son, Christian, was deemed unfit for the journey because of his wounds and was killed.”

Jenny laid down the book. Johnny sat in absolute silence. After a few moments he spoke. “How did your grandfather Ezekiel find out about all this?”

“Jonas, Jonathan, and Joshua were prisoners for five years. Jonathan was taught the warrior oath and eventually adopted into the tribe,” Jenny explained. “Jonas and Joshua refused to learn the Indian ways and were made slaves. Jonas lived out his days as a slave but kept his faith, and ultimately he was able to help his son Joshua escape. Jonas, however, was killed in the attempt.

“Joshua returned to the white settlements and rejoined the Amish community. He wrote down all that had happened in a journal and passed it down to his sons. Ezekiel used Joshua's journal to write the story.”

“What happened to Jonathan?”

“While he was a captive, his skill as a marksman and his cleverness as a woodsman made him a favorite with the Delaware,” Jenny said. “He learned their craft and cunning and absorbed their tracking skills and woodland knowledge. As an adopted son, he was given a certain amount of freedom, and he bided his time until the opportunity to escape presented itself.

“One day he was hunting in the woods with several other braves. He and two braves were far in the lead. He turned on them, killed
them, and took off running. The other Indians chased him through the woods for three days. He finally stumbled into Fort Henry and was saved by the garrison there. The story of his exploit became legendary on the border.

“After he recovered, he lived in the woods. He became a borderman—a hunter of Indians. He killed them whenever and wherever he could find them. The Indians referred to him simply as
Nènhìlëwès—
the Murderer.”

“Did he ever reconcile with his brother?”

“The book says that before Jonathan died, he forgave his father and brother. It did not say whether he ever came back to the faith.”

“He had children,” Johnny said. “Does it say what his wife's name was?”

Jenny picked up the BGMI and reopened it to the section she had marked. She perused through the lists.

“This is interesting,” she said. “Jonathan married Ruth, but there is no record of Ruth's family history.”

“How could that happen?” Johnny asked.

“Ruth may have changed her name. In those days, many Indian women married white men, and they usually took a white name.”

“Do you think Jonathan married an Indian girl even though he hated them so much?”

“It's quite possible,” Jenny said. “That's the only reason I can think of that there would be no record of her before her marriage to Jonathan.”

“Wow,” Johnny said. “This is really getting trippy. First I don't know who I am, and then I find out I'm of Amish descent and maybe Indian too!”

“I'm glad I could help,” Jenny said as she closed the book.

Johnny saw a tear running down her cheek. “What is it?”

“Well, you found out who you are, but I still don't know who I am.”

Johnny put his hand on Jenny's shoulder. “I think we were meant
to be friends. I promise to help you find out about your past, whatever that takes.”

Jenny looked at him, and then suddenly they were in each other's arms. Jenny felt his heart pounding, and his embrace was a place of safety, like the memory of her mother's heart beating next to hers. A sensation unlike any she had ever known engulfed her, and she was burning and freezing at the same time. His arms tightened around her.

“Jenny…” he whispered in her ear. “Jenny.”

And then another voice whispered in her heart.
This is the road home
.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Conflict