Abby Finds Her Calling

by Naomi King

  Rather than settling as the service stretched into its second and third hour, the man on his left raked his beard or sighed loudly or shifted. James considered what Abby had been saying to Vernon, about how things were not ideal at the Ropp place: a powder-keg situation, she’d called it. And, indeed, Rudy’s fuse seemed to grow shorter as the service lengthened. It was as though someone were winding a spring inside him tighter and tighter with each verse of the final hymn, until—when Bishop Gingerich called Zanna to come forward for her confession—Rudy popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

  “This is wrong, I tell you!” he blurted. “What we did, agreeing to let that—that Jezebel—remain amongst us while she’s carrying a baby, goes against all the Ordnung says. We must get back to the Old Ways.”

  “Brother Ropp, you’ve spoken out of turn,” Vernon replied firmly. “You were here when we voted on Suzanna’s shunning six weeks ago and you made no complaint.”

  James closed his eyes; Zanna’s expression was too much to bear. It was difficult enough for her to kneel before this gathering of members once again, to confess her sin and await a unanimous acceptance, let alone endure another outburst of name-calling.

  “My wife spoke up, however,” Rudy pointed out, “concerning the influence that Zanna’s example—and the man who shared her sin—would have on our own two daughters. Yet no one stood by Adah to support her plea, not even after Zanna accused our son Jonny of being the father. I don’t believe a word of that, either,” he exclaimed vehemently. “You took her at her word without a shred of proof.”

  Rudy sucked in a breath and continued his tirade before anyone could interrupt him. “But I can tell you that Zanna came to our place Thanksgiving with a rug. Said she’d made it,” he added with a sneer. “Treating it like a peace offering, she was, yet expectin’ to be paid for it—and leadin’ Adah into temptation by handing it directly to her. And Zanna was still under the ban, no less.”

  Vernon pressed his lips into a thin line, a sign he was searching for the best way to regain control of this meeting. Paul Bontrager rose from his place on the preachers’ bench and gazed sternly at Rudy.

  “Brother Ropp, you had a chance to discuss these matters with the bishop when he went to your place earlier in the week,” the preacher pointed out. “Vernon told me you all but chased him out of your barn. Not very neighborly. Nor proper.”

  The folks in the crowded room looked at one another in dismay. James sensed that many of the oldest members probably shared Rudy’s misgivings, but in the interest of encouraging Zanna to remain a faithful member of the church, they had set aside their objections.

  “I was trying to get my cows milked,” Rudy protested. “He came at the busiest part of my day—and he didn’t offer to help, neither.”

  “All that aside, Brother Ropp, let’s show some respect for the man who’s taking responsibility for your soul,” Abe Nissley remarked. He, too, had stood up and the three preachers made a formidable sight in their black vests and stern expressions. “If you want to abide by the Old Ways, you’ll be apologizing right now to Bishop Gingerich—both for your behavior last week and for this disruption of a Members’ Meeting.”

  Rudy drew himself up in a huff, looking ready to spout off again, but the bishop beat him to it.

  “I heard a different version of Zanna’s Thanksgiving visit, Brother Ropp.”

  The house got quiet. Vernon’s eloquent voice carried easily over the crowd. “I understand your wife ordered a rag rug several weeks ago, and Abby Lambright invited her sister to make it because folks insisted that Zanna remain out of the public eye. Abby saw this as a good way to mend some fences.”

  “Who’re you going to believe, Bishop? Abby Lambright, who took Zanna into her house so she wouldn’t be so embarrassed by folks like Adah, who call this situation as disgraceful as it is?” Rudy demanded. “Or will you stand with the man who kept a more Christian home by making his sons clear out when they refused to join the church?”

  James let out an exasperated breath. “Rudy, sit down, man,” he insisted in a hoarse whisper. “Kids born Amish are family—children to be loved—even if they go their own way.”

  Rudy turned on him like a cornered animal. “And who are you to talk, James Graber? You who condoned the behavior of the woman who ran out on you, by voting she could stay here amongst us and raise that baby?” he challenged. Then he pointed toward Zanna, who was still kneeling. “What kind of man would tolerate such a betrayal?”

  Several folks sucked in their breath while kapps bobbed across the room. James felt the heat rise into his cheeks, but he held his tongue.

  His dat, however, popped up off the bench. “You’ve got no call to speak to my James in that tone. It’s that kind of meanness that made your own boys leave home, and you can’t tell none of us any different.”

  Bishop Gingerich was making his way between the men’s benches, in an unprecedented trip away from the preachers’ position. His face looked tight with the effort to remain patient. “The Old Ways tell us how a Members’ Meeting is to be conducted, as well, Brother Ropp,” he said in a deceptively calm voice. “You are clearly out of order. You will sit down now. We shall proceed with Zanna Lambright’s confession and the vote, and then we shall address your concerns. Following procedure is part and parcel of the Old Order, is it not?”

  Rudy Ropp’s breathing became more pronounced. His tall, bulky body shook and his cheeks became the color of raw beefsteak. “If that’s the way it’s to be,” he rasped, “then I can’t belong to this church—nor this community—anymore! It’s like in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus called the Pharisees hypocrites for shutting the kingdom of heaven—not going in themselves, nor letting anybody else in, either.”

  Rudy’s hand swooped down to grab his black hat and then he strode toward the door. He pivoted to scan the crowd. “Come along, Adah! Girls!” he commanded. “We’ve got nothing in common with these folks anymore.”

  Adah’s face paled. She stood up among the women, looking unsure of what to do and very frightened. “Rudy, the bishop said you can have your say after—”

  “Are you going to stand by me? Or will you betray me the same way Zanna Lambright treated the man she was promised to?”

  The room got deathly still. Nobody breathed, watching the emotions play on poor Adah’s face… and feeling Becky and Maggie’s terror when they slowly rose, back among the younger women. The Old Order taught that obedience to God and the church came before allegiance to family, so Rudy Ropp’s demand was no small matter.

  James recalled the way Adah had disrupted the meeting six weeks ago, when Zanna had made her confession and admitted who had fathered her child. He had resented the way their outspoken neighbor had humiliated Zanna, yet now he felt compelled to offer poor Adah and her girls a place to stay until this matter got sorted out. It made better sense now, what he’d heard Abby telling the bishop before church. And it was a situation unlike any he’d ever seen in the peaceful town of Cedar Creek.

  With a whimper, Adah hung her head. But she stepped carefully toward the aisle, around the other women’s knees and feet, as though she dared not defy the man who had so blatantly challenged her. Maggie and Becky followed, too shaken to do otherwise.

  “Let’s offer up a prayer,” Vernon said as the doors closed behind the Ropp family. “Lord God, we ask Your presence with a troubled family, just as we require Your assistance to know how we, as Your church, should deal with this situation. We trust You to guide us in the way we should go.”

  After this rare prayer spoken aloud, the bishop’s footsteps were the only sound as he returned to his usual position. He paused in front of Zanna, as though composing his thoughts, while everyone else watched. And waited.

  James held his breath. After two outbursts during meetings—both on account of Zanna and her decision to keep her baby—would Bishop Gingerich insist that she leave Cedar Creek? Four months remained before she delivered, and if her presence sparked such unheard-of contr
oversy, Vernon might decide to remove the source of their troubles. James placed his elbows on his knees and put his head down. He wasn’t praying, exactly, just putting his thoughts into more meaningful order.

  “Sister Suzanna, I commend you for remaining on your knees, in the faith—not only during this distressing turn of events today, but throughout these weeks you were under the ban,” Vernon finally said in a low voice. “We’ll continue now, by hearing your confession and then asking you the time-honored questions that follow it.”

  Folks relaxed visibly. Shoulders loosened… scowls eased. Although James had a hard time hearing it again, Zanna’s clear, compelling account of her wrongdoing seemed to purge everyone of the tension Rudy Ropp’s outburst had caused.

  Dat leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “Did I do the wrong thing, tellin’ Rudy to zip a lip?” His father’s eyes widened and he quivered a little. He suddenly seemed so old… so fragile. “Didn’t mean to make things harder for you—”

  “Oh, Dat…” James hugged his father until their foreheads met. It wasn’t proper behavior for church, but what else could he possibly do? “I’m grateful you took my side. Grateful you’ve shown me so much more love and kindness than Rudy Ropp gave his boys. Sad story, that one.”

  His father clapped him on the back. “Proud of you, son. You’re a gut man.”

  The world went still. Time crystallized. James suddenly saw this moment through the bright shine of sunlight on an icicle. True enough, the bishop was asking Zanna if she believed in the salvation of Jesus Christ, but something told James to cherish this fine moment when his father was mentally clear—and to believe every word Dat had said.

  A sweetness flowed through him. For the first time in weeks, James felt peaceful and right with the way things were. Sometime soon he’d know God’s purpose for putting him through these tough months with Zanna Lambright.

  Stewing over that erased phone message suddenly seemed petty. And as James saw how Abby gazed at her kneeling sister with steadfast, unconditional love, it became clear to him how he should handle that erased phone call. The answer rang with the solid clarity of the Old Ways, yet gave him the hope of a new understanding about Zanna and his feelings for her.

  James grinned despite the solemnity of the occasion. It felt so good to know how to proceed: God the Father had spoken to him through his own earthly dat, and despite Dat’s infirmities, the message resonated loud and clear. It was another case of how the Lord worked out His purpose even through people who were imperfect—and usually unaware of the parts they played in the bigger picture.

  As Zanna left the room so the members could vote, her face shone with the relief of having completed her part of this ancient ritual: confession and penitence. Forgiveness and acceptance would follow if everyone believed she had truly turned herself toward the right way again.

  “Jah!” James affirmed when his turn came to vote. Dat nodded and said the same.

  The vote went quickly. As Zanna returned to hear their positive verdict, sunshine beamed through the windows as though the whole world shone with the happiness James felt. Renewed. Reaffirmed. After Bishop Gingerich adjourned the meeting by suggesting a silent prayer for the Ropp family, and thanks for the meal about to be served, what a wonderful moment it was. The younger women flocked forward to hug Zanna, exclaiming over how they had missed her and saying that she looked like a rose in bloom.

  James agreed. His heart thrummed when Mary and Martha Coblentz linked arms around Zanna. When Zanna gazed at Emma and then beckoned her to join them, a circle of lifelong friendship was renewed. His sister’s joy brought tears to his eyes. She had missed her friend more than she’d been able to admit. The older women then encouraged Zanna, too, complimenting her behavior in light of the way the Ropps had tormented her.

  And wasn’t that something? This was the same girl who had defied the rules and acted on impulse for most of her life.

  James considered this revelation, yet another gift on this day that had started on such a sour note. He rehearsed what he might say about the phone message—yet this was not the time to address his own need for forgiveness. He could wait for a quiet, more ordinary moment when Zanna would truly hear what he needed to say.

  When he stepped up to her, James reached for both of her hands rather than settling for the customary handshake. This was the woman he’d planned to marry, after all: he loved Zanna even if that emotion had changed shape and meaning over these past couple of months. Her hands still felt so tiny in his; those bottomless blue eyes still swallowed him whole when Zanna focused on him.

  “It’s a wonderful day,” he murmured, aware he was talking yet not sure what words were coming out.

  “Jah. Denki for your kindness, James. You could have acted a lot different.”

  Again he considered the change in her tone, her response. This ordeal was making a woman of her, even if she was no longer his woman. “I hope we can talk soon, Zanna. I—I have things to tell you.”

  Her eyes widened. “That would be fine,” she replied, glancing at the others who were waiting to greet her. “You know where to find me.”

  “Jah.” He gently squeezed her hands, aware of how others were following their conversation. “Take care, now.”

  “You, too, James.”

  Chapter 19

  What had James meant by his mysterious remarks? All afternoon Zanna replayed the feel of his hands holding hers, the expression on his face… the light that shimmered in his deep brown eyes. I hope we can talk soon, Zanna. I have things to tell you.

  As the common meal progressed, she reminded herself that he had nothing romantic in mind: James Graber wouldn’t be proposing again, nor did she want to marry him. Raising her baby would be so much easier with a husband, though—not that she’d called Jonny back to tell him he was going to be a father. The table talk reminded her of something else Jonny should probably know, however: his mamm needed Gideon and him more than ever now that Rudy’s temper had boiled over for all of Cedar Creek to see.

  “Never heard the likes of such talk in church,” Nell Coblentz remarked as she passed along a relish tray. Like her twin daughters, she had auburn hair, and her fair complexion colored with her emotions.

  “And while Rudy was never one to visit much, who would have dreamed he had such a temper? And who could believe Adah’s been living with it—and her being so outspoken,” Lois Yutzy joined in. “Here—I brought these candied fruit buns for you to try before I bake them for the shop. Got the starter from a gal over in Jamesport.”

  “Jah, I’ve been eyeing those,” Mamm said as she snatched one from the basket. “The way Abby told it, she and Zanna couldn’t leave fast enough when they took that rug to Adah on Thanksgiving Day. Do you suppose he’s really leaving the church? Or moving to another settlement and taking his milk cows with him?”

  “I don’t think Rudy’s got the money for a move like that,” Bessie Mast remarked. “But one thing’s for certain. Adah and those girls don’t want to go with him. And that opens a whole new can of worms.”

  “Jah, the bishop’s got his hands full.”

  Zanna finished eating her slice of red velvet cake and excused herself. After the common meal, the younger people usually planned activities for Sunday evening. As she approached the barn, where they went when it was too cold to stay outside, it felt good to spend time with her buddy bunch again—to speak freely to them now that she’d submitted to the shunning and restored herself to full membership.

  She paused inside the door. The volleyball nets were set up and they were choosing teams. Physical exercise would do her good, but did expectant mothers play such boisterous games? What if the baby got hit by a spiked ball? If she jumped up and then landed wrong, would the baby be jarred loose? Her arm curved protectively around her belly.

  Zanna realized, too, that most of these friends were still enjoying their rumspringa… and were probably a few years away from taking their baptismal vows. And while some of them had paired up�
��like Phoebe and Owen Coblentz, who were sharing a huge gingerbread man over in the corner—she didn’t feel comfortable with the courting crowd, either. She’d known Mamm’s friends all her life, of course, but they were, well—old. They talked of their adult children and their grandkids; the frustrations of aging and husbands set in their ways like mailbox posts in concrete.

  So now that she’d been welcomed back… where did she fit in? While Mose and Hannah Hartzler and Perry and Salome Bontrager were close to her in age and expecting their first children, it wasn’t like they’d be including her in any of their activities. They had married last spring and were set up in new homes. She would be the only one without a partner.

  Is this how it feels to be a maidel, like Abby?

  For a scary moment, Zanna envisioned herself at twenty-one with a school-age child but no prospects for marriage. A lonely future of either supporting herself and her baby or remaining dependent upon Sam loomed ahead, and what a bleak existence that would be. And while Abby insisted she had remained unmarried by choice, and she’d done very well with her Stitch in Time business, she was the exception to the Amish tradition for women. After you were a daughter and a sweetheart, you became a wife and a mother, or you were just… odd. Undesirable.

  Abby’s not odd! the voice in Zanna’s head countered.

  Abby doesn’t deserve to grow old alone, either. Is that what you want for a future?

  Zanna hurried from the barn, stung by the way no one had noticed her standing at the door. With heartsick clarity she saw how much she’d forfeited when she left James Graber at the altar. She’d burned her bridges, too, telling him she’d only mimicked his affections and didn’t love him enough to marry him.