Abby Finds Her Calling

by Naomi King

  Adah’s facade crumbled. “No matter what you think about my working at the Mennonite cheese shop, I’m doing everything I can to keep the dairy profitable,” she replied in a tiny voice. “What with the two boys leaving home, Rudy’s got more than he can handle, keeping the cows milked… getting the milk and cream sold.”

  She let out a long, shuddery sigh, as though she’d been holding her worries in for a long time. “Neighbors don’t buy it all up on a regular basis,” Adah continued. “So when the Mennonites over at the cheese factory offered us a contract, we couldn’t afford to say no. My income from clerking and wrapping the cheese helps make up the difference for the lower milk prices and higher feed bills we dairy farmers deal with these days. Our friends have their opinions about that, but they’re not paying our bills, either.”

  Adah Ropp inhaled deeply to settle herself. Now that Abe had put her on the spot, she’d lost her vinegar. “This isn’t something Rudy wants talked about,” she continued in a pleading tone, “but it about broke him down when Jonny and then Gideon jumped the fence soon as they finished school. And when Jonny rubbed his dat’s nose in it by buying a van to drive for Amish all around Clearwater—well, Rudy’s been mad at the whole world ever since.”

  The silent front room echoed with Adah’s heartbreak. Nobody knew what to say, and they didn’t want to interrupt her sad tale now that she was pouring it out.

  Adah looked away. “Rudy says that because the boys up and left—turned their backs on their family and their faith—he wants nothing to do with them. Refuses to speak to them, and forbids me to contact them, too.” Her choked sob grabbed hold of everyone in the room and refused to let go, like a hand closing around their hearts. “I thank the gut Lord for my girls. How could I keep the house running without my Becky and Maggie? But… but I feel so alone at times—”

  “Oh, Adah, we had no idea!” Abby leaned forward and reached across Sam. “Everyone figured Rudy was awful disappointed about the boys, but we didn’t suspect the extent of it.”

  “This is something we must speak to Rudy about,” Vernon agreed solemnly. “It’s not good for his soul—or his body—to hold such anger inside. It’s not good for you, either, Adah, being denied your sons and your love for them.” He looked around the circle, hoping everyone would see his important point. “Even if they jumped the fence, you need to know how they’re doing for your own peace of mind.”

  Adah nodded, tears streaming down her face. She briefly gripped the hand Abby had offered her, and then plucked a handkerchief from her skirt pocket.

  “And no matter what you might think of Zanna, that baby she’s carrying is your grandchild,” Abby insisted softly. “It would be a gut thing for you and Zanna both if you could love that little baby for who she is.”

  “Oh, it’s a boy,” Merle countered with a decisive nod of his head.

  Adah blew her nose, not responding to this new thread of talk.

  “Carry on all you want about that baby,” Eunice cut in, “but it’s still not fair to my James that Zanna and Jonny were carrying on behind his back whilst—”

  “Mamm.” James slipped an arm around his mother’s shoulders to silence her. “We’ve been chewing on this like a cow working its cud, and it’ll do none of us any gut if we don’t see the bigger picture. Maybe—just maybe—all this ruckus is meant to wake us up,” he suggested. “Maybe we’re supposed to see that when the storm’s whirling around us, like that snow and sleet Adah heard predicted, the one we can truly rely upon is God. Even when family lets us down. Even when… even when we learn our dreams aren’t going to work out.”

  Once again Abby’s heart pounded. She gazed at James, seated across the room between his elderly parents. If only Zanna had sensed how wonderfully strong—how steadfast—this man was. If only she’d realized how much he loved her.

  “Seems to me we’ve each got our work to do, and we’re getting by as best we can,” James continued earnestly. He looked around the room at the circle of friends he’d known all his life. “Adah’s selling her cheese while Rudy keeps the cows producing the milk for it. Beulah Mae brings in new customers for us all with her pie shop while Abe tends his crops and serves as one of our preachers. Sam provides us the supplies we can’t grow ourselves, and he’s trying to keep Zanna on the right path, as best anyone can. And Abby…”

  Abby held her breath as James met her gaze. What was he going to say in his low, compelling voice? His brown eyes softened. He smiled for the first time she could remember since Zanna had run off with his hopes and dreams.

  “Abby’s caught smack in the middle,” he went on, entreating those around him to listen. To believe. “She sews for every one of us, brightens our dark days with her kindness. She wants the best for her sister, jah, but I’ve never doubted she wants the best for me, too—for all of us—no matter how things seem to be unraveling. I wish we could all be more like her.”

  Abby felt light-headed from lack of air. Had anyone ever paid her a higher compliment? If only…

  There was no use in wishing for what would never be, far as her future with James went, she reminded herself.

  Abby managed a smile, aware of how flushed her cheeks felt. “Believe me, Adah—and Eunice and Beulah Mae,” she entreated them, “my sister’s working out her penance, and she’s feeling the effects of this ban. As far as I know, she’s had no contact with her friends since she knelt before us at the service—and that’s a hard thing for a chatty girl her age.”

  She paused, hoping they’d all understand Zanna’s decision to keep her baby—a choice that didn’t mesh well with Plain tradition. “Zanna’s trying to spend her time well, learning from her mistakes and planning what comes next for her and this child. She’s not keeping it just to go against the grain, understand. She refuses to give her baby up for adoption because she believes that’s no way to treat someone you love.”

  Abby looked at each of the women in turn, to share something that hadn’t occurred to her before now. “For a girl who’s just seventeen, that seems a big, responsible step to take,” she ventured. “I’m not sure I could have done it at that age.”

  She sent a silent apology across the room to James, and then looked at Adah. “So, jah,” she added softly, “Zanna knows all about feeling alone, too. Not a one of you seems to see her side of things. All you see is her sin.”

  The room grew very quiet. The clock on the mantel struck nine in slow, sonorous tones.

  Sam cleared his throat. “So what would you have us do now, Bishop?” he asked. “All our talking does no gut if we don’t back it up with action. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

  As Vernon looked around their circle, other heads nodded. At last it seemed as if everyone had released their resentment and complaints, and they were ready to be in harmony with one another again. Abby was pleased that Sam had set aside his previous disapproval of their sister—no small miracle. He was willing to move forward and help everyone else along that path, as well. It was powerful, what friends in the faith could accomplish when they set aside petty gossip and aspired toward the ideals that the bishop, Abe Nissley, and Paul Bontrager preached.

  “I believe we’ve worked out our differences now,” Vernon replied. His round face resumed its usual ruddy glow. “I admire young Zanna for working, but I feel you and Abby should limit her to tasks in the storeroom or in your homes, out of the public eye,” he said to Sam. “But you who gossip and place blame—whether upon Zanna Lambright or each other—stand just as guilty in your own way.”

  He paused to let this declaration sink in. Adah, Eunice, and Beulah Mae lowered their eyes and listened to Bishop Gingerich’s decision without further protest.

  “After all,” he continued, “we’re quick to consider adultery a big sin while we minimize the sin of gossip and speculation. Truth is, bearing false witness is breaking one of God’s commandments, same as if we engage in infidelity or lewd behavior. Confession would be the first step toward reconciliation with our friends a
nd our faith—whether that be after the service next Sunday, or right here and now.”

  The room remained quiet as they awaited a decision.

  Dear Lord, we say we’re trying and soon as You know it, we’re back to our old habits. Help us make our positive intentions stick this time. Abby kept her head bowed. Sometimes it took a moment to decide between an immediate opportunity to confess and the need to bring it before everyone. It depended on how deep the misstep went, and how the spirit prodded one’s conscience.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so cross and contrary. I’ll try to do better, with your help,” Adah began. She looked at each of them, awaiting acknowledgment, before focusing on the bishop. “And I’d be grateful if you’d speak to Rudy, Vernon. He’s wearing himself awful thin, what with just the young Bontrager boys to muck out the barns every now and again. Rudy’s too stubborn and proud to hire full-time help, you see.” She smiled ruefully, swiping a last tear from her face. “And I know he’d feel better, getting such resentment against our sons off his chest, too. But don’t tell him I told you!”

  They all nodded, knowing that Rudy was a man of few words and fewer requests for help.

  After another moment or so, Beulah Mae Nissley released a sigh. “I’m quick to jump in where it’s none of my business,” she admitted, reaching for her husband’s hand. “I’m sorry I put you to the test, Abe, as I don’t know where I’d be without you. And, Adah, I didn’t mean to upset the apple cart, as far as saying you’d taken on too many Mennonite ways,” she went on. “And Sam, there’s no excuse for how we forgot ourselves and carried on like pecking, squawking hens in your store, either. You’re exactly right. We all need to put our faith into practice while we’re doing everyday things.”

  Eunice smoothed her navy blue skirt over her knees. “I—I don’t mean to keep fretting about Zanna and Jonny, worrying over the situation like it’s white lint on a Sunday black dress.” She adjusted her glasses to look at Sam. “Mostly I can’t let it come between us as friends and neighbors, like we’ve been for all these years. And I shouldn’t be making this any harder than it already is for you, son,” she said with a sad smile at James. “You’ve got plenty on your plate, keeping track of your dat and me, and seeing after Emma, without me adding more.”

  James’s lips quirked. “It’s all right, Mamm. You just want the best for me, like always. It hasn’t been easy for any of us since the wedding got called off.”

  Abby’s shoulders relaxed. It always felt better, once the apologies were made and accepted, even though this topic of conversation would come up again: Zanna’s pregnancy and then her baby would remind them of it.

  “Pass along our best to your sister, Abby.” Adah Ropp was leaning around Sam. Her pink-rimmed eyes made her age more apparent, but there was no mistaking her sincerity.

  “I’ll do that, jah,” Abby replied.

  “I’d go over and apologize to her right now, except she’s being shunned.”

  Abby heard a dodge in Adah’s remark: it was perfectly acceptable for folks to visit her sister if they did so to encourage her to keep the faith. But if the bishop thought Mrs. Ropp was ducking her responsibility, he didn’t say so.

  “I can’t make up for what Jonny’s done to your sister, or to your families,” Adah said as she looked at Sam and James, “but I’ll pray on it. I’ll try to change my attitude about Zanna, too—and about that innocent child being born into such uncertain circumstances.”

  “We can’t ask any more than that,” Sam replied with a nod. “And we’ll keep Zanna more confined—as best we can, anyway. She’s got an ornery streak every bit as strong as your Jonny’s.”

  “Jah, there’s that.” Adah chuckled, prompting everyone else around the room to smile, as well.

  “Let’s all pray about the intentions we’ve just stated,” Vernon suggested. “We all sin and fall short, and we owe it to each other to forgive and truly forget—knowing that someday it’ll be our turn to ask forgiveness.”

  After they bowed for a moment of silence, the bishop donned his broad-brimmed hat. “Thanks for coming together to settle these disagreements, friends. Be safe as you’re going home. It gets tricky out there on that dark road.”

  Chapter 15

  Zanna appeared sleepy-eyed but rested when she came to the table the next morning. As she stretched her lithe body and yawned, her pregnancy appeared more obvious—which meant the baby was growing like it should, at nineteen weeks.

  “Thought you might snooze the day away,” Abby teased as she divided a steaming cheese omelet between their two plates. “But it’s gut you’re resting better. I was late enough getting back last night that I didn’t want to wake you.”

  The blue eyes across the table widened. Zanna nibbled a corner of toast. “So how’d that go? I suppose those biddy hens thought I should have been there to—”

  “Ach, now! They talked it out and got past pecking at each other. And you should, too.” Abby sat down at her place and bowed her head briefly. “Truth be told, Adah sends you her best. Come to find out, she’s feeling low about her boys leaving home. More so because Rudy doesn’t allow her to make contact with them.”

  Zanna listened with her gaze fixed on her omelet. “Jonny told me his dat ordered him off the farm, last time he showed up. Rudy said any boy who’d smart off about honest farming and then go acting English, jumping the fence and driving a car, was no son of his.”

  Abby’s eyebrows went up. She could well imagine Rudy Ropp making such a statement. “Can you understand how that made Adah feel?” she asked softly. “As if losing contact with her boys wasn’t bad enough, she told us she took her job at the Mennonite cheese store to help pay their bills. With the cost of feed going up—”

  “So you’re taking her side now?”

  Zanna’s wounded tone didn’t surprise Abby, and the question gave her the opening she’d hoped for. After she’d come home last night, she’d thought a lot about what had been said, and the bishop’s good-bye had stuck with her, as well.

  It gets tricky out there on that dark road.

  She studied Zanna’s face, pleased with how her cheeks were abloom today. Her kapp was fresh and her hair and dress looked clean and tidy. It wouldn’t be easy to break all the necessary news or to change her sister’s attitude, but Abby considered it her mission—her new calling—to see Zanna down this dark, tricky road to the light that came, like God’s grace, every morning.

  “I’m not taking anybody’s side,” Abby replied with a shrug. “I’m just saying that none of us knows what sort of load another person’s carrying. In a lot of ways, you and Adah are alike.”

  As she’d expected, Zanna looked at her in utter shock. “How can you compare me to that—”

  “Well, we all know how Adah Ropp speaks her mind,” Abby began with a wry smile. “And when she’s got an idea, or something she wants done, there’s no telling her otherwise and just no stopping her. Ain’t so?”

  “You’re saying these are her finer traits?”

  Abby laughed and reached across the small table for Zanna’s hand. “You don’t see yourself in that description?” she asked with a grin. “There’s nothing wrong with determination and a can-do attitude, little sister. It’s something I’ve always admired about you, truth be told. Those are certainly traits any young mother needs.”

  “Oh.” A grin flickered on Zanna’s lips.

  “Adah breaks the mold by working over in Clearwater, too,” Abby continued quietly. “She catches a lot of static about working away from home—and you know how that feels, when folks don’t approve of your decisions. And, like you, she latches onto more modern attitudes, yet she stays with her faith.” Abby paused, reflecting on how last night’s conversation had gone. “I had a better appreciation for Adah Ropp after I learned she tolerates so much criticism because her job away from home keeps the dairy—and her family—afloat.”

  “So you don’t think working around the Mennonites cost her those two boys?” Zanna quizze
d. “That’s what folks always blame their leaving on. But I’m saying Jonny and Gideon skedaddled out of Cedar Creek on account of their dat’s attitude. His meanness, mostly.”

  Not wanting to comment—because this young lady had certainly accused her own dat and older brother of being too strict—Abby steered the conversation back to where it needed to go. “We all get notions about folks, and sometimes we have no idea about the way their lives really are,” she remarked carefully. She smiled at her sister, hoping her words would have the desired effect. “When I told them you refused to give up your baby because it’s no way to treat someone you love, it made them reconsider the Old Ways a bit. You have to remember that when they were your age—”

  “A hundred years ago?”

  “—girls had no choice in the matter,” Abby continued earnestly. “They got shipped off to distant kin, or a maidel aunt in another town took them in until the baby came, and by then the adoption was already set up. When the girl was as young as you are, the parents hoped to get her married off without anyone being the wiser about her past. Including her new husband.”

  “That’s a pretty big secret to keep, isn’t it?” Zanna reflected aloud. “And… what of the baby, then? How’s a girl supposed to start fresh with a new husband without wondering every single day about the little one she gave away? That would kill me, Abby!”

  Abby smiled at the love ablaze in her sister’s blue eyes, and prayed it would guide Zanna down some very tricky dark roads. “I’m just reminding you how hard it is for the women hereabouts to accept the way you’re doing things—and I’m suggesting you appreciate Sam for not whisking you away, out of sight.”

  Zanna chewed her toast, considering. “I told him I’d run off again if—”

  “And we’ll have none of that.” Abby paused until her sister looked at her straight on. “But you know another way you’re like Adah Ropp? She admitted how lonely she was without her boys around.”