Read Online Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) by Patrick E. Craig - Free Book Online
Authors: Patrick E. Craig
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raged most fiercely about me.”
Reuben’s arms tightened around her. Then he spoke, and she could tell the words were difficult by the way they seemed to be pulled from him, syllable by syllable.
“When our Jenna died, I wanted to die too. I felt so helpless, and I believed that but for my wrongheadedness, Jenna would have lived. If das Vollkennen des Gottes hadn’t sent someone to help me, I would have died by my own hand. And then Gott , in His infinite mercy and grace, sent you to us. I can’t explain how it happened, but when I saw you for the first time, I knew you belonged to me and to your mama forever. I knew I had been given a second chance, and I loved you with every bit of the love I had for Jenna. And so when I see you suffer, I suffer too.”
Jenny looked into her papa’s eyes, the deep sea-blue eyes with the smile behind them, and saw home and safety in them.
“And so I would do anything to see you happy again. You make sonnenschein in meinem Herzen. And now you have given us Rachel, and the joy she brings with her is beyond our understanding. I can’t give Jonathan back to you. If I could, I would give my own life to do so. But that’s beyond me, so I give you my love and this place and whatever you need to be happy again. That’s my prayer.”
And as the bright spring sun warmed the earth, the winter of Jenny’s great sorrow began to melt away. The icy stronghold that had imprisoned her dreams and hopes crumbled under the warmth of her father’s love, and the river of life began to flow once more in her heart.
C HAPTER N INE
Healing Words
What words can I find that describe Jonathan or serve his memory as they should? Kindness? Compassion? Wisdom? Self-sacrifice? Joy, gift, safety…love? Somehow I can’t seem to capture the essence of Jonathan with mere words. He was my true love, my best friend, my companion, my coworker, my true yoke-fellow…all of these things. And yet, I still haven’t arrived at the heart of the matter. Maybe I’ll never be able to describe him or what he meant to me until I, too, have crossed over and my Lord explains it to me.
Jenny put down her pen and looked at the words in the journal. She gripped the edge of the page, ready to tear it out, but something held her back. Then she carefully closed her journal and stood it up in an alcove of the small desk that Reuben had built for her. Her journal—Jenny smiled at the notion and the amazing thing that had happened to her in the past few months. In the depths of her sorrow, Jenny had discovered a desire and possibly a gift for writing.
It had begun not long after the early spring morning her papahelped her find joy again. As she walked in the fields on a clear May morning, taking lunch to her daed , time seemed to shift. For a moment it seemed she was back in Paradise, taking Jonathan his lunch and hearing his clear, beautiful voice drifting across the farm to her on the wings of a song. He sang as he walked the rows, top-seeding last fall’s oat field with legume seeds. The seeds flew out of the hand-cranked seeder as his strong hands turned the handle, keeping time with the words that floated out of his mouth.
“Lassen Sie ihn, der gelegen hat, seine Hand auf dem Pflug nicht sehen sich um! Presse zur Absicht! Presse Jesus Christus! Derjenige, der Christus gewinnt, wird sich mit ihm von den Toten am jüngsten Tag erheben.”
Jenny remembered the words and sang along in English.
“Let him who has laid his hand on the plow not look back! Press on to the goal! Press on to Jesus Christ! The one who gains Christ will rise with Him from the dead on the youngest day.”
Jenny was lost in her memory. Jonathan had been a wonderful singer, and she loved his voice…
Then the moment passed, and she paused and looked around. She wasn’t in Paradise; she was back in Apple Creek, taking lunch to her papa instead of her husband. For a moment the familiar sadness engulfed her, and then she had an inspiration. After
Reuben’s arms tightened around her. Then he spoke, and she could tell the words were difficult by the way they seemed to be pulled from him, syllable by syllable.
“When our Jenna died, I wanted to die too. I felt so helpless, and I believed that but for my wrongheadedness, Jenna would have lived. If das Vollkennen des Gottes hadn’t sent someone to help me, I would have died by my own hand. And then Gott , in His infinite mercy and grace, sent you to us. I can’t explain how it happened, but when I saw you for the first time, I knew you belonged to me and to your mama forever. I knew I had been given a second chance, and I loved you with every bit of the love I had for Jenna. And so when I see you suffer, I suffer too.”
Jenny looked into her papa’s eyes, the deep sea-blue eyes with the smile behind them, and saw home and safety in them.
“And so I would do anything to see you happy again. You make sonnenschein in meinem Herzen. And now you have given us Rachel, and the joy she brings with her is beyond our understanding. I can’t give Jonathan back to you. If I could, I would give my own life to do so. But that’s beyond me, so I give you my love and this place and whatever you need to be happy again. That’s my prayer.”
And as the bright spring sun warmed the earth, the winter of Jenny’s great sorrow began to melt away. The icy stronghold that had imprisoned her dreams and hopes crumbled under the warmth of her father’s love, and the river of life began to flow once more in her heart.
C HAPTER N INE
Healing Words
What words can I find that describe Jonathan or serve his memory as they should? Kindness? Compassion? Wisdom? Self-sacrifice? Joy, gift, safety…love? Somehow I can’t seem to capture the essence of Jonathan with mere words. He was my true love, my best friend, my companion, my coworker, my true yoke-fellow…all of these things. And yet, I still haven’t arrived at the heart of the matter. Maybe I’ll never be able to describe him or what he meant to me until I, too, have crossed over and my Lord explains it to me.
Jenny put down her pen and looked at the words in the journal. She gripped the edge of the page, ready to tear it out, but something held her back. Then she carefully closed her journal and stood it up in an alcove of the small desk that Reuben had built for her. Her journal—Jenny smiled at the notion and the amazing thing that had happened to her in the past few months. In the depths of her sorrow, Jenny had discovered a desire and possibly a gift for writing.
It had begun not long after the early spring morning her papahelped her find joy again. As she walked in the fields on a clear May morning, taking lunch to her daed , time seemed to shift. For a moment it seemed she was back in Paradise, taking Jonathan his lunch and hearing his clear, beautiful voice drifting across the farm to her on the wings of a song. He sang as he walked the rows, top-seeding last fall’s oat field with legume seeds. The seeds flew out of the hand-cranked seeder as his strong hands turned the handle, keeping time with the words that floated out of his mouth.
“Lassen Sie ihn, der gelegen hat, seine Hand auf dem Pflug nicht sehen sich um! Presse zur Absicht! Presse Jesus Christus! Derjenige, der Christus gewinnt, wird sich mit ihm von den Toten am jüngsten Tag erheben.”
Jenny remembered the words and sang along in English.
“Let him who has laid his hand on the plow not look back! Press on to the goal! Press on to Jesus Christ! The one who gains Christ will rise with Him from the dead on the youngest day.”
Jenny was lost in her memory. Jonathan had been a wonderful singer, and she loved his voice…
Then the moment passed, and she paused and looked around. She wasn’t in Paradise; she was back in Apple Creek, taking lunch to her papa instead of her husband. For a moment the familiar sadness engulfed her, and then she had an inspiration. After
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