Abby Finds Her Calling

by Naomi King

  While Matt delivered the pews to their next destination, James and Sam knocked down the tables and stacked them against the wall. “I appreciate your coming over,” Sam repeated. “I didn’t figure on opening the store this morning, but I’ve got backed-up bookwork that will make the day go faster. It’s better than getting caught up in the clucking and squawking that will likely happen here at home.”

  James’s lips twitched. “Happy to help out, since I’d cleared my calendar of carriage work until after Thanksgiving. If I look too bored, Emma will no doubt put me to work.”

  “How’s hot coffee and warm apple cake sound about now?” The familiar voice preceded a slender figure silhouetted in the doorway, holding a tray. Abby stepped inside, glowing for a moment as the morning’s first burst of sunshine lit the huge room. Her eyebrows rose. “And you’re here, James? How gut to see you. And how are your folks and Emma this morning?”

  Bless her, the first words out of Abby’s mouth weren’t about how he was doing, or if he’d seen Zanna. “Dat’s caught himself a cold with a nasty cough, so of course Mamm’s hovering, telling him that’s what comes of gathering eggs without his jacket.”

  “Fresh horehound syrup would be just the thing for both of them.” Abby set her tray on the last standing table. “It would give your mamm something to cook up, and after taking it, your dat would most likely nap and feel better, too.”

  “Gut idea.” James glanced at Sam, who’d plucked a thick slice of the fragrant cake from the tray as though he was ready to leave. “I’ll come to the store in a bit to fetch the makings.”

  “I’ll be glad to take them over, James,” Sam said. “Gut chance to chat with your folks… see how they’re doing.” With a nod the older man walked off, as though taking a bag of dried horehound across the road to the Grabers was just the task he’d been hoping for.

  James smiled. Abby had hefted herself onto the table as though to settle in for a cozy chat. She poured two mugs of steaming coffee and placed a slice of cake on a napkin before patting a spot on the other side of her tray.

  How did she know he’d thought of talking to her? And with the girls gone inside, it seemed a fine chance to speak of things he couldn’t share with just anyone. “Denki, Abby. Awful nice of you,” he murmured. He inhaled the aromas of sugar and cinnamon and strong coffee. “Emma’s had her hands full dealing with our parents this morning, so breakfast was running late. I didn’t want Sam to think I was ducking my after-wedding chores.”

  “Or that you were too done in to show your face?” she suggested softly. “You’re a gut man, James. Sam looks all the better after spending some time with you today. More relaxed.”

  His eyes widened. Who else would have noticed such a thing? Or suspected the anxiety that had almost kept him home today? “Well, like I told your brother, I’d cleared my calendar of any shop work, so…”

  “It’s the mindless little jobs that save us from ourselves sometimes.”

  “You’ve got that right. Mmm—mighty gut cake, Abby,” James grunted around the mouthful he’d taken. “Nothing tastes as fine as the fresh apples and black walnuts from your own trees.”

  “I thought it might sweeten up our morning. Brought it over from home, knowing Barbara and Mamm might not feel much like baking.”

  James looked at her over his coffee mug. “You must have gotten up awful early.”

  “And you slept last night?” She shook her head ruefully. “I don’t need a mirror to see the dark hollows under my eyes.”

  Abby held her mug in both hands to warm them, looking sadder than James had ever seen her. “And when Zanna comes back and we tell her how disappointed and outraged and humiliated we feel,” she continued in a rising voice, “she’s not likely to hear that. Not that she’s cruel, understand. But she rarely looks before she leaps.”

  James swallowed hard. He reached for another slice of cake, then thought better of it. Best to get things off his chest before anyone else came into the barn. “Abby, I… Now, tell me true, will you? I trust your judgment,” he said in a faltering voice. “I can’t help wondering if I left something unsaid or undone or—well, Zanna’s quite a bit younger than I am, and maybe I courted her too soon after your dat’s passing.”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself, James.” Abby’s expression looked stern despite her pink-rimmed eyes. “Zanna knew exactly who she was hitching up with, and she knew that you could provide her a nice home and a steady income. It’s not like anybody twisted her arm to marry you, James. Not like she’s in danger of being a maidel at the ripe old age of seventeen.”

  “Jah, but Mamm and Dat have been wearing on us more this past year,” James pointed out. “And Zanna knew that when Emma married, our parents’ care would be mostly up to her while I worked in the shop.”

  “A responsibility—a lesson in love—that we all take on in our families. Just like the care and feeding of kids when they come along,” Abby countered sharply. She sipped her coffee as though she needed fortification to discuss her sister. “Truth be told, this disappearing act has me wondering how fit a wife and mother Zanna would make. You can’t run off when things don’t go the way you planned—and when does that ever happen? While your babies are turning into toddlers and before you can blink, they’re getting into rumspringa.”

  Visions of the children he’d dreamed of having with Zanna made James’s mouth go hard. The greenhouse felt chillier now that he wasn’t working.

  “Sorry I’m ranting at you this way, James. It wasn’t my intention to upset you more than you already are.”

  He sighed. When he went to take another sip of coffee, he wondered how his mug had come to be empty. “I’m grateful to you for the way you’re not blaming me. I… I had no idea this would happen, Abby.”

  “None of us did.” She tipped the carafe over his cup again, smiling glumly. “We gave the distant kin something to talk about on their trips home, didn’t we?”

  His eyebrows rose. “We did.” He succumbed to that second slice of warm cake. It didn’t fill his emptiness, but the sweet chunks of apple and chewy nuts gave him something pleasant to savor.

  James sensed that Abby was gazing at him with something else on her mind. He’d had about all he could handle, however—even though nothing new had come to light. He just felt better knowing the Lambright family didn’t blame him for yesterday’s fiasco.

  “And what will you say to Zanna when she comes back, James? I’m thinking she’s got no place permanent to go, so sooner or later we’ll hear her story. And we’ll have to decide what to do about it.” Her voice had lowered again. It soothed him like when he’d been a little boy scared of the dark and Mamm had caressed his hair, convincing him that monsters didn’t live under his bed.

  Those monsters had matured with him and taken on different forms, though, hadn’t they? Right now, embarrassment and betrayal and loneliness loomed large, and he didn’t know how to handle them. “I don’t rightly know what I’ll say to her. Guess I’ll listen, and try to keep my sharp remarks to myself while she explains why she ran off. I love her, Abby, so much,” James confessed in a tight whisper. “I don’t want to think about living without her, after the plans we’ve made, and yet… it’ll take some tall talking before I’ll take her back, too.”

  “Anybody could understand that.” Abby’s answer told him she was near tears—not a state he’d seen her in many times. “Zanna has no idea what she’s torn to shreds.”

  For a few moments the empty greenhouse sighed with their silent anguish—such a contrast to yesterday morning at this time, when he hadn’t yet known what a turn his wedding day would take.

  “I’d better see if Mamm’s going to open her shop, or what all she plans to do with herself today.” Abby scooted off the edge of the table, then focused on brushing their crumbs onto the tray so he wouldn’t see her tears.

  “When Zanna comes home, give her my best, will you, Abby?” he asked sadly. “I can’t imagine what’s going through her mind. I jus
t hope it’s not me she’s mad at.”

  Ever so quickly Abby squeezed his hand. “All right, James. I’ll do that.”

  Chapter 5

  Abby entered Cedar Creek Mercantile’s back door early the next morning, before daylight had chased the shadows from inside the vast building. Saturday was always a busy day, with more English and tourists shopping, so—family crisis or not—she and Sam would put on their best smiles and conduct business as usual. Mamm planned to be in her greenhouse by midmorning, and Sam’s girls would be along to help where they were needed in the afternoon.

  Before the store opened, though, Abby had about an hour to devote to her sewing. It was her favorite time, because when her body got into the rhythm of her treadle machine, the fabric moved effortlessly in her hands and her mind became totally absorbed in her work. She hoped to finish the red calico curtains for Mother Yutzy’s Oven: Lois Yutzy had expanded her bakery with tables and chairs so folks could chat over their sticky buns, pie, and coffee.

  The floorboards creaked as she walked along the side aisle, past shelves of baking staples and fragrant bagged seasonings. She raised the thermostat of the gas furnace, then climbed the wooden stairs to the loft, where her Stitch in Time business occupied one end of the space. She had arranged her nook with a fitting room at the back and shelves for storing sewing notions and her projects in progress. Her sewing machine sat near the loft railing so she could look out over the main level and go downstairs when Sam got too busy helping customers. It was a good system: while she earned a nice income sewing clothes, curtains, and table linens, she could also ring up sales when Sam had to inventory shipments or when he went home for dinner with Barbara and his kids.

  Abby stood on a stepstool to twist the handle of the ceiling-hung gas lantern. The area around her sewing machine brightened, and she smiled at the cheerful red calico panels draped over her chair. Then she stooped to pick up a clod of mud, frowning: she hadn’t come up here since yesterday, yet here was fresh wet dirt smearing her fingers. Her breath caught.

  Under the curtain of the changing booth she saw a pair of muddy tan shoes. Those slender legs could belong to only one person.

  “Zanna!” she cried, flinging aside the fabric between them. “Suzanna Lambright, what have you got to say for yourself?”

  Her little sister’s stricken expression didn’t win Abby’s sympathy. Zanna looked rumpled from her kapp down to the sag of her grimy stockings, and Abby didn’t recognize the jacket, several sizes too large, that drooped from her shoulders. “I—I didn’t mean to… didn’t know what else to do,” Zanna blubbered. “Oh, Abby, you’ve got to help me! Everyone else will hate me so bad they’ll not speak to me ever again.”

  “And why would that be, missy?” Abby still stood with the curtain in one hand. It gave her something to grip as she assessed the situation. Relief rushed through her. Her little sister had returned unharmed, although she looked like a cat left out in the rain. And Zanna had come here, believing she’d get the help she needed.

  But it was no time to indulge this runaway with favors she didn’t deserve.

  Zanna sniffled and swallowed, swiped at her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I’m listening.” Abby relaxed but she didn’t let her sister off the hook. “I guess you know Mamm’s worried herself sick over you. Not to mention Sam and Barbara and the kids—and all the folks who came clear from Pennsylvania and Ohio and Indiana for your wedding. And then there are the Grabers.” She left James out of it. Better to make Zanna ask the biggest questions, to see whether she realized she should be concerned about his feelings.

  Her sister’s face crumpled. Zanna looked pale, and the lavender half-moons beneath her eyes confirmed that she hadn’t slept much. “I—I got myself into a bigger mess than I knew how to— Oh! I’m going to be sick!”

  Abby grabbed her wastebasket and thrust it under Zanna’s mouth just in time. Her sister retched again and then went into a fit of dry heaves that made Abby hurt just watching that young body convulse.

  And what does this remind you of? How many times have you held a dish tub or the nearest bucket for…

  “Don’t tell me you’re having a baby!”

  Zanna’s frightened blue eyes—and another round of retching—told the tale, didn’t it?

  So how will you fix this, big sister? How did this happen, if Zanna…

  When Abby considered what this revelation meant, her heart pounded. How could James Graber have acted so betrayed yesterday, when he’d poured out his soul, if he’d already been physically intimate with Zanna? Abby had tried not to think about the man she loved having a family with Zanna, right across the road, where the proof of their intimacy would swell with every new child. She gripped the rim of the wastebasket, blinking back hot tears.

  But crying and lashing out wouldn’t solve this problem. Abby reminded herself that she was the more mature woman here and that Zanna had come to her for help. Her frustration with James was another matter entirely. As Abby took in the anguish on her sister’s face, the fear in those watery blue eyes, another possibility occurred to her.

  “Zanna, James loves children,” she pointed out. “He can’t wait to be a— Why didn’t you just keep this little secret by loosening your wedding dress? It’s not talked about, but you wouldn’t be the first bride whose baby came before the calendar counted up right.”

  Zanna flushed. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of that awful jacket and looked away. “You got that right,” she rasped. “James couldn’t wait. And what was I to say? I thought he loved me! And how was I to know…”

  Abby’s throat got so tight she couldn’t swallow. She wanted to hear the rest of Zanna’s story before she said anything, but her pulse was pounding so hard that it was difficult to follow her sister’s low, urgent voice.

  “It took me a while to know for sure I was pregnant, and by then… Well, I couldn’t stand there in church pretending I was pure, could I?” Zanna continued between her sniffles. “And after the way James treated me, I couldn’t pretend I loved him or wanted any part of marrying him, either!”

  Abby’s jaw dropped. This sounded nothing like the tale she’d heard from the man in question.

  “I should have called off the wedding,” Zanna continued in a rising whine, “but I didn’t want to upset Mamm or get Sam all riled up, because he’d already spent so much money, only to figure out I was already carrying.”

  Abby’s patience snapped. She pointed sternly to the chair at her sewing machine. “Sit down, young lady. And don’t you dare move.” She watched until her sister obeyed, and then carried the vile-smelling wastebasket downstairs to the bathroom.

  As she rinsed it out, her mind raced. Zanna’s story smelled like spoiled Swiss cheese and had just as many holes. How could Zanna think James didn’t love her? Even if he had jumped the gun when the two of them were alone, Abby had never seen him show anything but affection and respect toward her sister. And hadn’t Emma and everyone else agreed that Zanna had acted happier than they’d ever seen her, these months when she and James had been engaged?

  Abby sighed. If Sam walked in, his temper would further complicate the situation. How could she get this runaway to her house to ask the questions that begged for answers before Zanna told any more bare-faced lies?

  Or had Zanna revealed a side of James Graber that no one suspected? Abby’s brow puckered in thought as she wiped the wastebasket. He was older than most fellows were when they married… and Zanna might have tempted him beyond reason without even realizing it, young and pretty as she was. If James had been having relations with his fiancée, he’d be too much the gentleman to let on about it—especially to a maidel like herself. And what if her own romantic notions about James had fogged her vision of him?

  It was all so confusing. Dear Lord, please don’t let me create more problems than I solve, she prayed as she left the little bathroom. Please help me say and do whatever will take us along the higher road.

  Abby glanced at the wall clo
ck. First thing, Zanna needed something to settle her stomach. Then they had to slip away—yet the lane to her own little house led right past the homeplace, and they would probably be passing by there right when Sam and Mamm would be coming in to work…

  Lost in her thoughts, Abby stumbled over a box of discarded clothing left beside the collection bin in the fabric section. The scribbled note on top of it read, Abby—I need a rag rug for my kitchen, please. No need to hurry. Adah Ropp.

  By the looks of it, other folks had cleaned out some old clothes, as well, because the collection bin overflowed even though the store had been closed since the wedding. The mercantile sat on a county road, so they always locked up—although their close neighbors knew where the key hung in the phone shanty out by the road, if they needed something when the store wasn’t open.

  As Abby assessed the pile of worn trousers, dresses for doing chores in, and sun-streaked curtains, she grinned. Wasn’t this the solution she’d just now prayed for?

  She grabbed a box of graham crackers from the shelf and hurried up the wooden stairs to the loft. As Abby entered her sewing nook, she searched for words that made sense—but then, nothing about Zanna’s story made much sense. Try as she might, she couldn’t tell if her sister was showing yet, the way she clutched that nasty old jacket around herself.

  “Where did you get that coat?” she blurted before she thought better of it.

  “I found it in the barn where I was hiding.”

  Abby winced. If she was going to ask the direct, difficult questions, she had to be ready for Zanna’s answers. Abby opened the box of graham crackers and handed over a wrapped packet of them.

  “If you think Mamm and Sam would have been upset about calling off the wedding,” she said in a quiet, purposeful voice, “I promise you, young lady, you haven’t seen upset yet. You’d better get your story straight before you say a word to either one of them, too, because I’m hearing holes big enough for a horse to poke its head through.”