The Road Home (25 page)

About half an hour later she felt the car turn off the paved road onto dirt or gravel. The road became very bumpy and rutted, and Jenny bounced around roughly in the back. After a few minutes the man driving the car pulled to a stop. Jenny heard the men climb out, and then the trunk opened. One of the gang, a younger man, helped her out and untied her.

Jenny looked around. They were in a clearing deep in the woods. Brush and brambles filled the spaces between the trees. Ahead was a low, ramshackle building with a wooden porch running along the front. A pile of logs and split wood sat by the front door, and smoke rose from a chimney on the shingled roof.

Dusk was coming on, and it had started to rain lightly. A chilly wind whistled through the tops of the big maple and beech trees, a portent of snow. The leaves on the trees had turned red and gold at the approach of winter and were starting to fall off. Under different circumstances the beauty around her would have thrilled Jenny, but now it all seemed dark and dreary.

A fat, balding man with a whiskered face came out on the porch. “Hello, boys. Did you bring me a present?” He leered at Jenny.

The young man stepped protectively in front of Jenny, an act that was not lost on her.

“She's a little insurance we're holding onto until Sal collects some money our friend from San Francisco stashed back in Ohio,” Luis said. “As soon as he lets us know he has the cash, we may give her to you as partial payment for letting us stay awhile.”

Jenny's heart sank. The fat man grinned at her again. “She's a pretty little thing,” he said.

The young man glanced at Jenny, his eyes troubled.

He isn't happy about this. He must have a good heart
.

He stepped over and said something quietly to Luis. Luis looked surprised and then smiled. “Well, Moe, you may have to work it out with Jorge here. He seems to have a little interest in the girl too.” Luis laughed wickedly and slapped Jorge on the back. “You're gonna make your bones yet, kid.”

Moe looked surprised, and then he laughed. “Tell you what kid. I'll arm wrestle you for her.”

Jorge stepped over in front of Moe. He towered over the fat man and pushed up against him.

“Tell you what, Moe. How about you don't lay a finger on her until I'm done with her.” He put his hand on Moe's shoulder and squeezed, and Moe winced in pain.

“Okay, kid, okay. I was just foolin' around. I didn't know you had a romantic interest in the little darlin'. Hey, Luis, call the kid off.”

Luis laughed again and slapped Jorge lightly on the cheek. “A real ladies' man, just like your Uncle Luis, eh kid?”

Jorge didn't say anything, but he took Jenny by the arm and led her inside. The interior of the house was dark and filthy. A wood-burning stove in the corner was glowing red. It was raised off the floor by a several bricks covered with soot and small pieces of wood. A large table with rough wooden chairs around it stood in the center of the room. A big, worn-out couch sat against the back wall, and water-stained acoustic tile sagged from the ceiling. A single bare bulb hung from a wooden beam. A few throw rugs were scattered on the floor. The kitchen area
was off to one side, and a fluorescent fixture with one tube burned out and the other flashing dimly hung over the sink.

Something cooking in a pot on the stove smelled good, and Jenny realized she was very hungry. Jorge pushed her toward the back of the house. They went down a hallway to a small door. Jorge opened it and pushed Jenny inside.

“Don't worry,” he whispered, “I won't let them hurt you.”

Hope began to wash the fear out of Jenny's heart. In this dark and dangerous place, she may have found a friend! Jorge stepped out, and she heard the lock click. She was alone and still alive.

“Thank You, Lord,” Jenny whispered. Then she looked around.

She was in a small room, almost a closet. A grungy mattress lay on the floor with a blanket and a gray-striped pillow piled on it. A tiny window high up on the wall let in the last of the daylight. There was no latch on the window, but it was held tightly closed by several small, flat bars of metal screwed into the sill around it and then into the window frame. It seemed to Jenny like the room may have been used as a prison before.

There was a light switch on the wall and a single bulb on a cord dangling from the ceiling. A dirty spiderweb festooned a high corner by the ceiling, and a filthy piece of thin carpet covered part of the wood floor. She switched on the light and then quietly walked over to the back wall and tried reaching the window. It was almost above her outstretched fingers. Besides, it was too small to crawl through even if she could get out the screws that held it shut. Jenny sank down onto the mattress. It was filthy and stained with only the single, dirty blanket to cover her. She leaned against the wall and pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

“Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry,” she sighed—and then she began to weep, quietly so as not to draw attention to herself. The silent sobs shook her shoulders as all of the events of the last few days overwhelmed her.

Jerusha held the Rose of Sharon quilt in her hands. She stared at the stains and the rips and the place where she had torn the batting out to start the fire that had kept her and Jenny warm through the freezing nights. In spite of the damage, the quilt was still beautiful. The words came to her again.

Jenny's life is like this quilt. Though it is beautiful, it is not whole. Pieces are missing, and stains must be washed away. You have been chosen to be part of that cleansing. You are a key to Jenny's happiness and wholeness
.

Jerusha began to examine the quilt, seam by seam, piece by piece. She picked up a pencil and a pad of paper and started to make a list of all the repairs she needed to make. She noted the colors, fabrics, and sewing techniques she would have to reproduce. Jerusha was a master quilter, and her grandmother had taught her to save fabric from quilts she worked on in case of future necessary repairs.

She looked in the chest and began to gather her supplies. She pulled out a piece of muslin and set it aside. She would need the muslin to try out stitches and repair techniques before she used them on the fabrics. At the bottom of the chest lay the remnants of the two bolts of silk that she had used to make the rose and the background, and a large piece of the cream-colored backing. She laid everything out and made sure she had what she needed to start. Jerusha stretched the Rose of Sharon quilt out flat on the sewing room floor. She sighed. There was so much to do. The quilt was stained. Pieces of the rose petals were torn off or frayed. One whole corner was ripped open and the batting torn out.

“Where do I start, Lord?” she asked. “There's so much to be done here.”

Then a verse from one of her favorite psalms came to her.
I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid
from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them
.

“I must start with the secret parts,” she said out loud. Then with a prayer on her lips she began to repair Jenny's quilt.

C
HAPTER
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WENTY
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Answers

“I
MUST START WITH THE SECRET PARTS
,” Jerusha said out loud again. She looked at the corner she had torn open. The batting inside was shredded, and a large piece was missing, the piece she had used to start the kindling on fire that first night in the cabin. With her rotary scissors, she began to carefully trim away the matted and torn parts until the batting was ready to splice.

She had used a double layer of soft batting to make the quilt warm and heavy, so she had to use a double piece basted together to patch the tear. The original quilt had been difficult to sew, but the finished product had been a masterpiece. Now she placed the square piece of double batting on the corner and arranged it so that it made a new corner but overlapped the old batting. Carefully she cut through the four layers of batting in a serpentine pattern. When she was finished, she butted the two pieces together and, using a whipstitch, began to join them. She had learned about using a curved cut when splicing batting years before, and she knew that the serpentine line would distract the eye and render the splice almost invisible. When she was finished she would hardly be able to tell the corner had been torn.

As she worked she began to pray, and soon she realized the Lord was leading her in a conversation. It had been a long time since she had heard the trusted voice within her spirit.

When I finished creating Jenny in the secret place of her mother's innermost parts, she was perfect. But after she was born, things happened to her that were not My plan for her, and she was torn inside, just as this batting was torn. The hidden parts of her were damaged when she saw things a little girl should not have to see. I have been waiting to heal those torn parts all these years, and now the time has come
.

Jerusha then knew that she had been given an awesome responsibility when Jenny came into their lives, and yet as the years had gone by, she had forgotten that Jenny was not her birth child and that there was a part of her that Jerusha knew nothing about.

“I should have prayed more. I should have asked You about Jenny's past. Reuben and I should have understood that the missing part of her is a big part of who she is. O Lord, will You forgive me for being so blind?”

Tears began to course down Jerusha's cheeks as she laid the quilt down, knelt, and humbled herself before her God.

Bobby sat at his desk. Johnny Hershberger sat across from him. It was dark outside, and the streetlights were on. It had started raining, and Bobby could hear the hissing of car tires in the water as they drove by. It had been two hours since they found Johnny, and Bobby could see that he was exhausted.

Bobby watched him. He wouldn't be a bad-looking kid if he'd lose the ponytail. Bobby noticed there was a tiny gash on his earlobe where the bullet from his rifle had nicked it on its way to Sal's hand. Bobby smiled.
I cut that one pretty close. Guess I need to get back on the range and practice a little
.

Bobby cleared his throat. “So tell me the story one more time, son. I want to make sure I have all the details.”