by Naomi King
Barbara cleared her throat as she removed the speculum. “It’s not James Graber’s baby, is it, Zanna?” she asked softly.
Abby turned, noting her sister’s stunned expression. Despite the tension in the little room, her heart fluttered.
“You can tell that from looking?” Zanna said in a high, tight voice.
Barbara didn’t respond right away. She busied herself tending to her equipment. “What you didn’t say at the dinner table was more revealing than what you did say, young lady,” she began sternly. Now that she’d completed her examination, Sam’s wife seemed intent on getting to the heart of the matter. “Seeing the way James took out looking for you after you disappeared before the ceremony tells me he cares too much for you to dishonor you—or to have premarital sex, breaking the vows you both took when you joined the church.”
Zanna sat up, yanking the sheet over her bare legs. “Why’s everybody so set on defending James?” she demanded shrilly. “How can you be so sure he’s not the reason for—”
“Because he’s never given us cause for doubt or second-guessing.” In the late-day shadows of Abby’s spare bedroom, Barbara looked older, tired of answers that didn’t add up, and weary of this young woman’s way of dealing with her problems. “You only make this harder on yourself by dodging the truth, Zanna. When you put this baby up for adoption—”
“Who said anything about that?”
“—you’ll need to write a father’s name on the birth certificate,” Barbara continued. She stepped closer to the foot of the bed, so Zanna couldn’t duck her intense gaze. “If you don’t know who the father is, you’ve not got morals enough to deserve this child—a gift from God—or to saddle your family with your irresponsible ways. And if you do know, you’d better tell him sooner rather than later, Zanna. Paternity issues get sticky in hospitals these days. We don’t want a lawsuit—”
“So you can deliver it, Barbara. That way I can keep her—I promise I’ll take gut care of her,” Zanna pleaded. “I love this little baby! You’ll see what a fine mother I can be.”
“You’re missing my point.” To emphasize her words, Barbara placed her fingertip on Zanna’s chest, leaning lower so their eyes were on the same level. “Your brother will have none of this thinking—especially considering how you’ve already lied to us tonight. And you broke your mother’s heart again. That’s twice in three days!”
Zanna sat silently. She knew better than to sass back.
“And then there’s James, living right across the road,” Barbara went on in her no-nonsense tone. “Where’s he going to fit into this picture, Suzanna? If you don’t marry him, if the baby belongs to another man—”
“She belongs to me!”
“—you’d best be confessing it right quick.” Barbara stepped back, grasping the handle of her black bag in both hands. “If my questions upset you, you’ve not seen anything yet. When the preachers get wind of your situation, they’ll put Sam on the spot—and you know how he’ll take to that! You’ll be shunned, at the very least, not to mention all the talk this will cause in the store. And since I’m the one who has to live with Sam, I’m telling you, Zanna—”
A loud knock on the front door made them all suck in their breath.
“If they’re looking for me, I’m not here,” Zanna whimpered.
Barbara let out an exasperated sigh. “See there? When will you learn that you can’t hide, little girl? When will you realize you can’t tease your way out of this one? Too many lives have been affected by it. We’re already tired of paying for this mistake, Zanna—especially since you won’t admit you made one.”
Again someone pounded on the door. Louder this time.
“I’ll get it.” As Abby left the spare room, her heart felt like a rock in her chest. They had all figured a runaway bride was the most serious situation they’d ever faced—but that was on Thursday. Now, on Saturday, the stakes had gotten so much higher… and it would be spring—another six months—before this baby came. Who could predict what might happen by then?
Abby paused to peer out the little window beside her entryway. She closed her eyes, knowing she must open the door and say what had to be said.
“James.” Abby gazed at the angles of his face, sharper and more pronounced beneath the shadow of his hat. Lord, please don’t let me say or do anything to hurt this man any more than he’s already been wounded.
“Abby,” he murmured. His eyes looked sad, like an old hound dog’s.
“I can guess what you’re here for. Come on in, then.”
Chapter 8
One look at Abby’s splotchy face told James the rumors were true.
And just like that time he’d ridden the roller coaster at the county fair, his emotions flew into a wild spin. From the rising exhilaration of his wedding morning, to the rapid plunge into fear when he went looking for Zanna—and now, his heart raced out of control as he careened around yet another blind corner, hearing about Zanna’s return and her alarming news. How many more surprises could he stand?
He stepped into Abby’s front room, looking around as he removed his hat. “She’s here, then?”
“Jah.”
Abby’s tone told him she knew more than she would tell—which was only fair, but so exasperating. “Emma told me—they’re saying Zanna’s in the family way. And so help me, if I get my hands on the fella who did this to her—”
“James.” Abby grabbed his clenched fists. Her eyes, usually so shiny bright with cheerfulness, had clouded over. “It’s not my place to speak for my sister, but I’m not hearing that the fella forced her into it. And… well, she’s saying you couldn’t wait—”
“Me? I couldn’t wait? Abby—” Once again his feelings spiraled into free fall, as though the roller-coaster car had jumped the tracks at its highest point. His throat squeezed so tight he could hardly talk. “Please tell me you don’t believe I’d do that to your sister.”
Abby released his hands. She shook her head, looking as wretched as he’d ever seen Abigail Lambright, the town optimist, appear. But is she shaking her head because she believes you couldn’t sully her sister that way? Or because she can’t stand to answer you?
“It’s Zanna you should be talking to, James,” she finally murmured, glancing down the hall toward the bedrooms. “I did my best to get her story straight, keeping her here so she could clean up before she faced the rest of the family, but she started phoning her friends. Sam and Mamm are fit to be tied.”
“Will you tell her I’m here? And stay with us while we talk?”
Abby’s eyes widened as though he’d asked her to chaperone—or referee—their wedding night. “I’m not so sure that’s a gut idea, James. She’s already peeved me with her dishonesty.”
“I trust you to keep us both on the high road, Abby. I’m so upset, I might say or do something I’ll wish I hadn’t.” He fidgeted with his hat, caught between extremes: one moment he wanted to protect his Zanna from all the wagging tongues and take her back, while with his next breath he stood ready to condemn her outrageous lie. Her behavior made a big black mark on both their reputations, even though he’d done nothing wrong.
“Ah. Another one telling me I’m my sister’s keeper—and now your keeper, as well.” Abby smiled sadly as her sister-in-law came down the hallway with her black bag. “Do you want Barbara to stay, too?”
James shook his head, reading the same resignation—the same verdict—on the face of Sam’s wife. “Denki for your help, Barbara. Is—is Zanna all right, then?”
“Better than the rest of us, I’m thinking. I’m sorry this is happening, James. None of us wanted this for you.” The midwife paused at the door, studying his face. “I’m going home to pray on it, and trust that God will guide us all toward His way and His will.”
The door closed behind her and the front room filled with an awkward silence. James had been here with Emma last spring when Abby had moved into this little place. He liked the way the walls glowed with pale yellow pai
nt in the lamplight, and the simple furnishings made him feel so at home. “Guess I’d best wait here for Zanna. Or has she already slipped out the back way, after hearing my voice?”
Again that sadness hung heavily on Abby’s brow, and he was sorry he’d added to it. “I’ll get her,” she murmured. “We’d best be saying what needs to be said so we can all move forward.”
Nodding, James watched her walk down the hall. Such a kind, solid woman, Abby was. Tidy and talented at so many things, yet always giving other folks the credit. He looked at the old oak rocking chair with an afghan folded over its back and then at the sofa, and chose the seat he recalled Sam, Abby, and Zanna’s dat resting in most evenings. As he settled against the flat slatted back, James hoped some of Leroy Lambright’s patience and wisdom would seep into him. Zanna hadn’t been the same since her father had passed, and maybe he needed to address that tonight.
The chair creaked with his weight as he rocked… What could he possibly say to right such a wrong situation? To nip this crisis before all of Cedar Creek believed the rumor that he’d dishonored his bride-to-be? Abby reappeared then, watching her sister come down the hall.
James stood up, his pulse kicking in his temples. Father God, please give me the right thoughts, the strength to listen and forgive…
Zanna didn’t look at him. She walked like a wooden doll that needed its joints oiled, then lowered herself stiffly to the edge of the couch. Try as he might, James couldn’t see any signs of a baby, but he didn’t want to stare. “Zanna,” he murmured in a voice that sounded strangely adolescent. “Gut to see you got home all right. We were all worried…”
The love of his life focused on the arm of the couch as though some fascinating riddle were written there for her to decipher. When Abby perched on the sofa beside her, James sat down again. The two sisters looked drained, their faces nearly as pale and stiff as their kapps, except Abby’s darker brows and hair set off her features more distinctly. As he gazed at Zanna, who’d promised to be his wife, James reached deep inside himself, searching for a solution—a way to persuade the young woman who appeared so distant now. A mere week ago, she couldn’t stop smiling at him and talking about the wedding.
James cleared his throat. Best to jump in and hope God put good words in his mouth. “Before you say anything, Zanna, I—I love you,” he began fervently. “If we can put the rumors to rest right now—if you’ll still be my wife—I’ll wipe the slate clean. Then this will blow over, and it will be like it never happened.”
Zanna bowed her head. She picked at her fingernails.
Abby grasped her knees, seeming so ready to speak out—yet apparently aware that this wasn’t her conversation.
James sighed. He swallowed the lump of desperation that clogged his throat. “I know it’s been hard on you since your dat died, and maybe I shouldn’t have courted you so soon after that.”
There was not so much as a flicker of Zanna’s eyelashes in response.
“And maybe… maybe you should’ve had a little more time for rumspringa before you took your church instruction and kneeling vows. I know your dat wanted the best for you when he convinced you to do that so soon after you turned sixteen,” he continued quietly.
Still Zanna seemed lost in her own little world, oblivious to how his soul bled as he searched for the words that would get her talking.
James leaned forward, gazing intently at her. Why would his Zanna not look at him? What else could he say to convince her that he wanted the best for both of them? “I was so happy you wanted to be with me, I probably didn’t realize you needed more time for having fun with your friends or… for trying things out for yourself.”
Zanna fiddled with a loose thread on the sofa, and when she yanked it off, it might as well have been wrapped around his heart. What did a man say to a woman who acted as though he wasn’t seated ten feet in front of her, pleading for their life together?
“I’ll call the child mine. We’ll get on with our lives, Zanna,” he rasped. He couldn’t miss the way Abby’s brown eyes widened gratefully… just as he couldn’t ignore the tightening of his fiancée’s jaw. “For your wedding present I—I bought you that walnut bedroom set you liked at Yoder’s store, so we wouldn’t be starting out in a room that looks the same as when I was a kid. Mamm and Dat’ll be moving to the dawdi haus—”
Zanna’s face was getting red, but he couldn’t stop pouring out his feelings and frustrations. At this point, it was in for a dime, in for a dollar. “As far as I’m concerned, Zanna, you still hung the moon and stars! If there’s anything at all I can—”
“Stop. Just stop, hear me?”
James felt his body deflate. The voice had been Zanna’s, but he hadn’t seen her lips move. He rose to stand behind the rocking chair, to grip its sturdy back for support.
So she’d heard enough? He was being a first-class fool, was he? It had been his greatest fear that he’d lash out, or cry, or… but he’d never dreamed that this young woman, who threw herself into everything with a bright conviction, would refuse to hear him out. Had she no idea how badly she’d slashed him by running away, and now by this?
“All right, then, the stories have to stop, Zanna.” James thought the chair back might snap in his grip, yet he felt so powerless. Thank God for Abby, whose wounded expression must mirror his own. “You and I both know I never— Whose baby is it, then?”
Zanna’s eyes filled with tears. “Mine,” she hedged.
“That’s no answer, and you know it! How long have you known—?”
“Since… July.”
A horse might as well have kicked him full force in the chest. When James could catch his breath again, he said, “So we’d been engaged for three months when you—for half the summer you’ve been seeing another man.”
“It—it was just the one time—”
“Zanna, that’s enough.” Abby grabbed her sister’s slender arm, and then released it as though it burned like a blazing log. “Maybe you won’t answer to me or to Mamm, but you’ve got to own up to James about who the father is.”
“You could have had the decency to tell me,” James said bitterly. Clearly, his turn-the-other-cheek spirit was getting him nowhere except in deeper trouble. “I spent all my time planning and setting up the house. I turned away carriage business for this month so we could have time together. And you went along with those plans. Acted happy. Said you loved me, Zanna.”
“And what else was I to say? When somebody says they love you, you say it back or they feel bad, ain’t so?” Zanna hunched her shoulders. She looked miserable, true enough, yet James detected a stiffness to her features as she pulled herself together… as she carefully worded her answer. “It was gut to see you so happy, James—to see all my family smiling again after Dat’s passing. You kept telling me how perfect it was going to be, our marriage, and I wanted to believe—”
“Well, you could have changed your mind before now!” he cried. “If you couldn’t tell me you wanted out, why didn’t you let Abby know so she could’ve—?” James exhaled forcefully. Abby’s alarmed expression warned him he might well break the chair if he didn’t get a grip on his temper. He so seldom felt anger, he didn’t know how to act when such a wave of it washed over him.
James spun around, spearing his hands through his hair like a crazy man. The sight of the lamp on the table soothed him… at least enough to make him realize that no amount of reasoning—no amount of loving Zanna—would save this situation. If she didn’t understand how he’d sacrificed his pride to ask her to come back, offering to raise this child as his own, what would be served by putting himself through any more humiliation? Hadn’t he endured enough of that in front of four hundred wedding guests?
“You could have said something back in July, too. And obviously you did—but to some other man,” he muttered, mostly to get it off his chest. Zanna was beyond hearing his heartbreak, so what was the point of parading it in front of her? “Guess I’ll leave it to the bishop, then. There’s
nothing more I can say here.”
James grabbed his hat and left before Abby could see him out. He didn’t have the heart to listen to her apologies or explanations, or whatever else she might say to smooth his ruffled feathers or soothe his soul. The autumn evening had a nip to it. Across the moonlit sheep pasture, the gentle roll of the hills—so often a reminder of the Good Shepherd they followed—beckoned him to walk and walk until his legs could carry him no farther. Yet he sensed that even strenuous exercise would bring him no peace.
And what would help you? How can you live with knowing that the sweet Zanna Lambright you lost your heart to not only betrayed you on your wedding day but also gave herself to another man long before that, while you avoided such pleasures out of respect for her?
And Zanna seemed so heedless of the wound she’d inflicted. It had stung him deeply to sense that she felt no remorse, no need to apologize.
From behind the barn, two lithe dog shadows moved toward him, their ears alert as they checked his identity. James crossed his arms tightly. He was too infuriated to scratch behind Panda’s ears or to mimic Pearl’s soft, conversational mutterings.
What was he to do now? How was he to answer Emma’s questions, or his parents’, when he got home? Could he attend the preaching at Ezra Yutzy’s place tomorrow and endure the endless stares and speculation? Or should he stay away and let folks talk even more harshly about how he’d shamed Zanna and her entire family?