by Naomi King
Cracker poised before her mouth, Zanna widened her eyes. “Are you saying you don’t believe me? Are you calling me a liar?”
“We don’t have time to fight. Sam will be here any minute,” Abby reminded her. “Now that he and Mamm have recovered enough from your disappearing act to open up shop again, you won’t be getting their busy day off to a bad start. I’m taking you to my house so you can clean up and get your act together,” she said in a tight voice. “Then you’ll face the rest of your family.”
When Zanna glanced out the window, toward home, her blue eyes nearly filled her gaunt face. “And how do you think we’ll get out of here without—we cannot tell Mamm about the baby, Abby. She’ll kill me! And what if James sees us?”
Ah, wasn’t that the question of the hour? And how did Zanna think she could keep her baby a secret? Abby gestured toward the stairs. “You’ll have to answer to all of them—sooner rather than later,” she added. “And you owe an apology to James most of all—for spoiling the biggest day of his life. Not to mention breaking his heart.”
Zanna stopped short at the top step. She blinked rapidly. “After what he did to me, you feel sorry for him?”
“Move along, missy. While I fetch my cart, you’re to gather up all the clothes from the rag bin and meet me outside.”
“What are you—”
“Don’t stand here fussing at me. Unless you want to meet up with the very folks you betrayed, looking like this.”
Once they reached the bottom of the noisy wooden stairs, Abby headed for the shed. Was she wrong to whisk Zanna away to her own little home instead of marching her to the main house to face their family? Would she be able to pull this off without Sam catching her? If he did, he would think she was just as disloyal as Zanna.
Maybe this wasn’t the best plan… but there was no time to doubt her inspiration. As Abby stepped between the long handles of the two-wheeled wooden cart, used for hauling anything they wouldn’t hitch a horse to, she prayed her sister would play along. As she left the little shed, she saw Zanna at the side door and hurried over to meet her.
“Get in!” Abby grabbed some of the worn clothing her sister held. “I’ll cover you with these old clothes—like I’m taking them to the house to make rugs. Don’t you dare move or make a peep. Understand me?”
With a doubtful glance toward the house, Zanna obeyed. Abby tucked a couple of old dresses around her sister’s slender form and then tossed the rest of the clothes on top of her. She would ask God’s forgiveness for this little masquerade later, but right now it seemed the best way to avoid a major squabble. It also gave her a chance to set Zanna straight about why her story didn’t match up to the truth. Abby stepped between the cart’s wooden handles, tipped the cart until it was level, and then trundled off.
Down Lambright Lane she went, over the packed dirt path. If she walked a little faster she could make it past the door before—
Just as she was nearing the corner of the two-story white house, Sam stepped outside. “I got quite a binful of clothes for rag rugs while the store was closed,” Abby called out to him. “I’m taking them home so they’ll be out of the way once we open. See you in a few.”
Her older brother’s expression didn’t change. Poor Sam had been put through the wringer these past few days and had probably endured all he could handle from his women. Thank goodness he waved and started walking toward the store.
Abby thought her lungs and legs might burst before she got home. As a precaution, she wheeled the cart around to her back door before she slowed her pace. Only when she let go, and the bed of the vehicle hit the ground with a whump, did she realize what her concealed passenger might have undergone during the ride.
A gasp came from beneath the clothing as Zanna swatted aside the fabric that covered her face. “Could we do that again so you hit every bump in the road this time?” she said grumpily. “I’ll have bruises all over my—you could help me out of here, you know!”
At the first crack in her little sister’s voice, Abby blinked back tears. What an awful ride that must have been. When Abby grabbed Zanna’s hands to haul her up, she wrapped her arms around the poor girl. “Zanna, I didn’t mean to be so rough. I didn’t think about you bouncing against those hard wooden sides—”
“I’ve got no reason to complain, now that you’ve got me over here.”
“But we’ve all been so worried about you,” Abby finished with a gasp. “We had no idea where you’d gone, or why.”
Zanna sniffled loudly, swiping at her red-rimmed eyes. “I’ve got a lot of questions to answer, I know. And I’m really sorry about cutting up that wedding dress you made me, Abby. Must be the baby that’s making me act so crazy, so thankless.”
Thankless. Now there was an admission that might redeem a few of the unpleasant moments they’d had over the past days.
Abby drew in a long breath, returning Zanna’s worried gaze. “Your wedding dress is the least of our worries right now,” she murmured. “Let’s get you inside. While I’m working this morning, take a bath, all right? This situation will be easier to handle when we’ve both simmered down. Then we’ll figure out how to tell everybody else what’s going on.”
Nodding, her sister stepped up the back stoop and into the kitchen. Abby followed, clutching an armful of the old clothing, which she tossed into the alcove where her clothes washer sat. Her pale, blond sister stood in the center of the room, absently munching a graham cracker as she gazed at the glossy wooden cabinets and floors as though she’d never seen them. When Abby noticed how thin and worn-out Zanna looked, she bit back the lecture she’d planned to deliver.
“Make yourself comfortable, sis. Tea and soup and what all are in here,” she said as she opened the pantry doors. “Help yourself to clean clothes, and then think about what you’ll tell everybody when we take you over home.”
Abby turned then, waiting for Zanna to make eye contact. “But you’ve got to play fair, Zanna. No more of those overblown stories about James—hear me?” she insisted. “For one thing, nobody will believe he treated you badly, even if he… made you his woman before you became his wife.”
Did that sound as awkward as it felt when she’d said it? Abby fought a surge of anger and impatience when she thought about how Zanna had apparently run away from James, the father of her child… the man who’d never seen Abby as anything other than a friend. She sensed Zanna’s thoughts were elsewhere, so she kept her personal grievances to herself. “Never, never forget that no matter what you do, Suzanna Lambright—or how awful you think things will be when the truth comes out—we’re your family. We love you, and we’ll stand by you.”
Abby paused to let that idea sink in. “But things will go a lot easier for everybody if you tell the truth.”
Zanna hung her head, her unfinished cracker in her hand.
“Are we gut now, you and I?” Abby asked quietly. “I’d stay, but Sam expects me back at the store any minute.”
Her sister cleared her throat. “Jah. I’ll be okay now, Abby. Denki.”
“I’ll come back later to see how you’re doing.”
Abby closed the door behind her. As she pushed the cart toward the road, the back walls of the mercantile and the glass greenhouse stood as reminders of what would come next. Zanna was right. Mamm’s relief when she knew her youngest daughter had returned safely would quickly be overridden by shock and disbelief. Anger and disappointment would raise voices—and issues—such as the Lambright family had never known.
When Abby saw Mamm’s shadowy silhouette moving behind the panes of frosted glass, she took a detour. She parked the cart behind the mercantile and tapped on the back door of the greenhouse.
“Jah? Just a minute!” her mother called out, and after a moment Mamm peeked outside. “Oh, Abby—come in! I was just deciding how to price all these ornamental gourds. Might have planted more rows than we should have—” Mamm looked tired, but her eyes never missed much. “And what’s on your mind, Abigail?”
“Oh, thank the Lord! My prayers are answered!” As Mamm embraced her, Abby closed her eyes and sighed… hugged her mother and felt her tremble with joy and relief. What a shame, to spoil such a moment by telling Mamm the hard truth. “And where was she? What did she say about—”
“It’s not so gut, Mamm. You’re not going to like it.”
Her mother pulled away enough to search Abby’s face for answers. “Now what?” she whispered. “It wasn’t enough that Zanna left us all in a pickle…”
“She’s pregnant, Mamm. Said James couldn’t wait, and—”
“And what kind of talk is that?”
“—she was too scared to tell you or Sam—or to call off the wedding, or—” Abby stopped to catch her breath as the heat rushed up her neck. “I’m not saying this very well.”
Mamm clasped Zanna’s hands. “It’s Zanna’s story to tell, whether she’s scared or not. And where is she?”
Abby recognized the tightness in her mother’s face. It was the expression she put on to get through a crisis—the expression she’d worn most of Zanna’s wedding day. “She’s at my house, cleaning up. She smells like she slept in a barn, because she did,” Abby murmured. “Zanna knows Sam will get even angrier if he finds out.”
“She should have thought of that before—before…” Mamm’s face crumpled and her whole body sagged. She let out a shuddery breath. “We’ll have to find someplace for your sister to go… before anyone else realizes she’s in the family way.”
“But if the baby belongs to James—” Abby shut her mouth. Attitudes may have changed in the English world, but Mamm’s generation believed unmarried mothers were not to be seen in public and should not raise their babies out of wedlock.
“Zanna should have thought of that, too,” Mamm muttered. “But she obviously did not think, so we’ll have to make some decisions for her.”
Mamm put her hands on either side of her kapp as though she was getting a bad headache. “All this turmoil in the past few days. Makes me wonder what the Lord’s trying to tell us.” She swiped at a tear and smiled sadly at Abby. “I’m going to put up the CLOSED sign before anyone comes in. Let’s not let on to Sam about Zanna’s condition until she breaks the news herself. I have a lot of thinking and praying to do, and his temper won’t help me.”
“Jah, I can understand that,” Abby murmured. It had always been Mamm’s way to deal with problems that arose with her children and the household, and not to bother Dat with them, if at all possible. But Abby knew this situation was too big for her mother to handle alone. “Can I do anything to—”
“Keep your brother busy at the store. And pray.”
In the silence of her sister’s kitchen, Zanna closed her eyes tightly. Leave now, before you have to answer to anyone else! There’ll be no end to the questions.
But where could she go? She threw up every little thing she ate—and threw up even when she didn’t eat. There’d be no slipping into her room to pack a duffel… and truth be told, her condition would soon be obvious to everyone who saw her. She’d kept her secret too long. She was so exhausted, feeling so scared and alone that she couldn’t think straight. She felt high and excited one minute and terrified the next.
Zanna sighed, wishing Mamm and Barbara already knew so they could soften Sam before he saw her.
You’re going to catch it for running off, and for the expense of the wedding—and then there’s that forty dollars he’s surely missed from the cash box by now.
And then James will find out. He sounded worried when he was out looking for you, but that’ll change when he hears the truth.
Too upset to think about it anymore, Zanna shrugged out of Mervin Mast’s grimy coat and the dress she’d worn these past few days. She washed at the bathroom sink. Then she brushed her hair and rewound it into a bun and tucked it under one of Abby’s old kerchiefs. Her sister’s oldest gray choring dress—the one Abby wore to help with Matt’s sheep or to spend a hot day in the garden—suited her mood perfectly.
The little house was too quiet—and so tidy it looked like nobody lived there. Zanna was too restless to nap. What she really wanted was to hear about the wedding! What had happened after her family figured out she’d run off? What had Bishop Gingerich said about her to all their guests? Was James upset and worried? Or did he pitch a fit before he came looking for her?
Zanna turned her thoughts to other wedding details, because thinking about James Graber made her stomach hurt.
Desperate for something to do, she rolled Abby’s wringer washer to the sink and hooked up the hose before starting the diesel motor. The clothes in the donation box smelled musty, and it wasn’t Abby’s way to leave such an untidy pile on her floor. While Zanna worked on the first load, she was more than ever aware of how she hardly knew herself anymore… how isolated she felt now. Ordinarily, she would have chatted happily with Gail, Phoebe, and Ruthie while they washed and hung out the family’s clothes. But her nieces were working at Mother Yutzy’s Oven this morning—and she wasn’t ready to face their horrified expressions when they heard her story.
What about her friends Mary and Martha Coblentz? They’d been at the wedding as her newehockers, so surely they’d want to know she was safely home. And what about the girls in her buddy bunch? They could fill her in on the talk from the wedding, and describe James’s reaction so she could be ready for it. As her friends’ faces flitted through her mind, Zanna blinked back more tears. Nothing would ever be the same with those girls once they found out she was having a baby. But no matter what, she wasn’t marrying James.
Zanna wiped her eyes. Enough of these tears and this emotional roller coaster—she had to talk to somebody. That’s what friends were for…
Chapter 6
Abby’s curtains lay unfinished in her sewing nook all Saturday morning as she helped dozens of locals stock up on baking supplies. A busload of English tourists arrived around eleven thirty and swarmed the aisles. Even after Sam called Lois Yutzy’s bakery for Phoebe and Gail to come run the cash register and sack the purchases, the crush of customers kept them all going at full tilt long past lunchtime. When the tour bus finally pulled onto the road again, Sam smoothed his graying hair with a sigh before replacing his hat. He looked done in.
“How about if the girls and I head to the house for a bite, and then I’ll be back?” he asked Abby. “Fine by me if you take the rest of the day off after that. Looks like you had quite a stack of rags for your rugs.”
Abby nodded, hoping he hadn’t noticed anything suspicious about the contents of her cart. “That would work fine, Sam. Most likely, folks have done their shopping now and have other places to go during this fine fall afternoon.”
Once her brother and three nieces left, the mercantile rang with silence. Abby closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and caught the scents of bulk spices and the subtle fragrances of Marian Byler’s handmade soaps. Nearly two o’clock it was, and she had hoped to look in on Zanna before now—but when Sam returned, she could check on Mamm and then she would have the rest of the afternoon to talk to her skittish sister about the mess she’d created. Abby climbed the wooden steps to the loft, soothed by their familiar creaks. Time to finish sewing those curtains for Lois Yutzy, while no one was shopping.
Her feet slipped into the pumping rhythm that made the treadle machine whir as she guided the hem of the fabric beneath the needle. She seldom made window coverings for Plain folks, but the Mennonite couple who owned Lois’s building thought their English customers would like the homier look that ruffled curtains would give to the bakery’s new addition. The bright reds and yellows of the calico lifted Abby’s spirits—when she was sewing, she became so absorbed in the textures and colors, so deeply sa
tisfied by the way simple seams and stitches created clothing or items folks used in their homes, that she lost all track of time.
The bell tinkled downstairs. Could Sam be back already? Abby looked over the railing to gauge his mood, and then grinned. “Emma! Gut to see you! How’s your Saturday been?”
Her best friend smiled up at her and waved a plate of something she’d baked. “I tried a new recipe for pumpkin muffins, with blueberries,” Emma said as she hurried up the stairs, “and I thought you’d like one while it’s still warm. James and the folks are settling up with Mose Hartzler, now that he’s cleaned the chimney and repaired some cracks in the mortar. I’ve only got a few minutes.”
It was a rare treat for Emma to get away, so Abby cleared the curtain panels from her extra chair. “We should probably have Mose sweep our chimneys soon. Winter will be here before we know it.”
Emma perched on the edge of the spare chair and unwrapped two large muffins that were still so warm that the berries smeared on her fingers. “Cute curtains, Abby! Who are those for?”
“They’re going in Lois Yutzy’s shop, where the new tables are.”
Emma snickered. “No doubt when Beulah Mae sees them, she’ll think her bakery needs fancied up, too. Can’t have Mrs. Nissley’s Kitchen falling behind Mother Yutzy’s Oven, you know.”
The two of them giggled and bit into their muffins. As she chewed, Emma glanced around at the finished place mats and dresses waiting to be picked up. “Would you have time to make Mamm a new black dress for church, and another one for every day? Dat needs new pants, too,” she added, shaking her head. “I cleared out their oldest stuff—which is why your rag rug bin was so full. They’ll fuss at me, saying new clothes are an extravagance, but with winter coming on, they need warmer things to wear.”
“I’d be tickled to do that. We can pick out the fabric as soon as we finish our snack.” Abby closed her eyes over a big mouthful of sweet, soft muffin, inhaling its cinnamon scent. “Denki for bringing me this nice surprise! I won’t get lunch until Sam comes back.”