Read Online Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) by Patrick E. Craig - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patrick E. Craig
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she gave Reuben his lunch, she ran back to the house and found a scrap of paper and a pen. She sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a note to Jonathan.
Dearest Jonathan,
Today I heard you singing as I walked alone in the fields. I love your voice. I am glad you never became a successful musician when you lived in San Francisco, for if you had wenever would have met. Instead you sang your songs to the Lord, and I was blessed to hear your gift. By the way, I kept your guitar. I don’t know why, since you put it away when you joined the church, but for me it is part of who you are. I remember when you sang a song for me long ago, and the beautiful sound of the music and the words enthralled me. You said you wrote the song for me. I remember it so clearly.
Tonight, I whisper in your ear,
I always want you near.
Tonight, kiss me tenderly,
Come so easily,
Into my heart tonight.
Your songs—how I miss them.
Jenny
Jenny stared down at the note and realized that for just a moment, as she wrote, the weight had lifted from her heart.
Maybe if I write down my memories of Jonathan, it will help me to fend off this loneliness. If I can’t have him to hold, I can have him to remember.
The next time Jenny was at the General Store, she looked for something she could use to write in. She found a plain, lined notebook with a black-and-white speckled cover and a place to write on the front cover. She bought it and took it home. She sat at the kitchen table and wrote simply “Jenny Hershberger, Journal 1—1979” on the cover. And that is how she began. At first she wrote only about Jonathan, but as she emptied out the hurt and the pain on the pages, she found there was room in her heart to write about other things too. She wrote about Rachel and the funny or wonderful things she did and said.
Tonight we asked Rachel to say grace at dinner. She prayed, “Dear Gott , thank You for these pancakes.” When shefinished, Mama asked her why she thanked Gott for pancakes when we were having chicken. Rachel smiled and said, “I thought I’d see if He was paying attention.”
One day Jenny wrote a short poem about Reuben.
Safe in loving arms I rest
My cares away on spirit wings
And here my aching soul caressed
By loving words the angel brings
To whisper in my papa’s ear
His strength for me breaks all my fear
And love with gentle voice can sing
And tell me how my life is blessed
My papa’s arms shall hold me fast
And bring me safely home at last
Her interest in the history of her people reawakened, and she started visiting the Wooster library once a week. Her old friend Mrs. Blake was still the librarian and welcomed Jenny back with open arms.
From then on there were many nights when Reuben came home to find Jenny lost in thought at the kitchen table, sucking on the end of her pen as she stared down at the words she had written. Jerusha cooked dinner around her and Rachel asked for her mama’s attention, but Jenny would be lost in thought. It was on one of these evenings that Reuben realized that Jenny was finding healing in the words she wrote. The next morning Jerusha found him in the woodshop, laying out some of the choice pieces of wood that he kept for his projects.
“What are you making, husband?”
“I’m going to make a desk for Jenny that she can put in her room. Her writing takes her mind off her sorrow, and after she writes she’s so much more with us. But she needs a quiet place away from all the hubbub.”
Jerusha smiled and laid her hand on Reuben’s arm. “You are a good papa.”
Reuben spent a month making the desk. It was crafted from birch and lightly sealed with a clear stain—a simple design but beautifully made, with two drawers in the front and a small set of shelves on the back edge to hold her journals. One day when Jenny was out, he moved it into her room. He stood it by the wall close to the window so she could look out on the world as she wrote. When she came home and went into
Dearest Jonathan,
Today I heard you singing as I walked alone in the fields. I love your voice. I am glad you never became a successful musician when you lived in San Francisco, for if you had wenever would have met. Instead you sang your songs to the Lord, and I was blessed to hear your gift. By the way, I kept your guitar. I don’t know why, since you put it away when you joined the church, but for me it is part of who you are. I remember when you sang a song for me long ago, and the beautiful sound of the music and the words enthralled me. You said you wrote the song for me. I remember it so clearly.
Tonight, I whisper in your ear,
I always want you near.
Tonight, kiss me tenderly,
Come so easily,
Into my heart tonight.
Your songs—how I miss them.
Jenny
Jenny stared down at the note and realized that for just a moment, as she wrote, the weight had lifted from her heart.
Maybe if I write down my memories of Jonathan, it will help me to fend off this loneliness. If I can’t have him to hold, I can have him to remember.
The next time Jenny was at the General Store, she looked for something she could use to write in. She found a plain, lined notebook with a black-and-white speckled cover and a place to write on the front cover. She bought it and took it home. She sat at the kitchen table and wrote simply “Jenny Hershberger, Journal 1—1979” on the cover. And that is how she began. At first she wrote only about Jonathan, but as she emptied out the hurt and the pain on the pages, she found there was room in her heart to write about other things too. She wrote about Rachel and the funny or wonderful things she did and said.
Tonight we asked Rachel to say grace at dinner. She prayed, “Dear Gott , thank You for these pancakes.” When shefinished, Mama asked her why she thanked Gott for pancakes when we were having chicken. Rachel smiled and said, “I thought I’d see if He was paying attention.”
One day Jenny wrote a short poem about Reuben.
Safe in loving arms I rest
My cares away on spirit wings
And here my aching soul caressed
By loving words the angel brings
To whisper in my papa’s ear
His strength for me breaks all my fear
And love with gentle voice can sing
And tell me how my life is blessed
My papa’s arms shall hold me fast
And bring me safely home at last
Her interest in the history of her people reawakened, and she started visiting the Wooster library once a week. Her old friend Mrs. Blake was still the librarian and welcomed Jenny back with open arms.
From then on there were many nights when Reuben came home to find Jenny lost in thought at the kitchen table, sucking on the end of her pen as she stared down at the words she had written. Jerusha cooked dinner around her and Rachel asked for her mama’s attention, but Jenny would be lost in thought. It was on one of these evenings that Reuben realized that Jenny was finding healing in the words she wrote. The next morning Jerusha found him in the woodshop, laying out some of the choice pieces of wood that he kept for his projects.
“What are you making, husband?”
“I’m going to make a desk for Jenny that she can put in her room. Her writing takes her mind off her sorrow, and after she writes she’s so much more with us. But she needs a quiet place away from all the hubbub.”
Jerusha smiled and laid her hand on Reuben’s arm. “You are a good papa.”
Reuben spent a month making the desk. It was crafted from birch and lightly sealed with a clear stain—a simple design but beautifully made, with two drawers in the front and a small set of shelves on the back edge to hold her journals. One day when Jenny was out, he moved it into her room. He stood it by the wall close to the window so she could look out on the world as she wrote. When she came home and went into
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