Abby Finds Her Calling

by Naomi King

  “What we need at our house is a cure for Abe’s snoring,” Beulah Mae chimed in. “If he’d quit sawing logs all night, I’d get so much beauty sleep, why, who knows what a kind, polite—and gorgeous!—gal I might become?”

  Abby laughed along with all the other women. She and Emma glanced over to where Eunice sat at a small table with Eva’s two little girls, cutting the larger fabric scraps into pieces for the rest of them to stitch together. “It’s gut that your mamm’s helping us even if she can’t see well enough to sew,” Abby remarked quietly.

  Emma smiled as she seamed a scrap of red gingham to a piece of yellow twill. “Jah, she was happy to get out today—and the way Eva’s girls, Polly and Laura, are chatterin’, Mamm can’t dwell on her aches and pains,” she added. “James took Dat to the shop today to count out bolts and whatnot for the wagon they’re making the Ropps.”

  The kitchen door opened and Lois Yutzy stepped in, her black coat speckled with big white flakes. “Well, I wouldn’t believe it, except I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she exclaimed as she hung her bonnet on a peg. “I took the stew and biscuits out for the men’s dinner, and they got the Ropps’ new roof on this morning. They’ll have the house enclosed by tonight.”

  “Jah, when Amos and the bishop take charge of a project, you’d better believe it’ll scoot along ahead of schedule,” Mamm said, sipping her tea and nodding in approval. “Awful nice of those Mennonites to bring out a generator and lights so the crew can work longer hours on these short days.”

  “Well, the Fishers appreciate Adah’s working there as much as she and Rudy depend on selling their milk to the cheese factory.” Lois eased into a chair Abby had pulled up to the table for her. She glanced toward the end of the table, where Barbara’s three daughters, as well as Zanna, Mary, and Martha, sat. “Also a nice surprise to see Jonny there, putting his mamm’s new cookstove together,” she remarked brightly. “Amos told me Jonny drove past the farm last week, and when he saw how the fellas were building a new house, he stayed to help them. Guess he did some tall talking, and Gideon’s come back, too, to keep the cows milked while their dat’s laid up.”

  “Well, that’s a gut sign,” Abby replied. This information was such a positive surprise that it took her two tries to thread her needle. “Maybe it’s finally dawning on him that he could’ve lost his family in that fire.”

  “Goodness, how long has it been since we last saw Gideon?” Bessie asked.

  Eva snipped the end of her embroidery floss. “Wouldn’t it be a wonderful-gut thing if those boys came home to stay?”

  “You know it’d be a load off Adah’s mind, having them back,” Barbara remarked.

  Abby glanced up in time to see Zanna nip her lip. A week had passed since her sister had told Jonny about the baby, and he’d made himself scarce ever since. Abby’s heart went out to Zanna as she remained focused on her sewing. Why was it, when Zanna did what was right, the wrong things happened next? If Zanna’s expression was anything to go by, hearing that Jonny was working in Cedar Creek only made her feel worse, even though everyone was pleased that he was helping with the new house.

  “Just so happens I’m signed up to deliver their noon meal tomorrow,” Gail said with a sly smile. “I could use a hand, Aunt Zanna. If you get my meaning.”

  Emma giggled. “What you mean, Gail, is that you’re going out to see if Gideon Ropp’s as fine and feisty as you remember. No secret you were sweet on him before he left town to tend all those chickens.”

  The Coblentz twins snickered, elbowing Zanna and provoking a smile from her. Abby felt grateful to Mary and Martha for pitching in on these sewing frolics, and especially for their acceptance of Zanna now that her life had spun outside the lines that defined their own futures. As she looked around the table, at familiar faces lined with love and laughter, Abby realized that gatherings like these were the batting and backing that held the crazy quilt of their lives together. Every one of these women had her own talents and strengths—added her own colors to the community—yet despite differences of opinion and age, they fit together all of a piece, like the multipatterned squares of this crazy quilt they would complete today.

  Gail grinned. “Jah, well, the fella you’re setting your hopes on smells like sheep most of the time, Emma. And Matt’s no more aware of how you feel than Gideon’s thinking about me.”

  “Got to poke men with a crochet hook to get their attention, most days,” Phoebe remarked. She smoothed the large square she’d just completed, smiling at the way the colors and patterns went together. “I might go with you tomorrow—”

  “Ooooh, going to gawk at Owen, swinging that hammer with his sleeves rolled up,” Mary teased.

  “Jah,” said Martha, her freckled face alight with mischief, “but instead of that crochet hook, I’d take a big pan of cherry cobbler. Owen’s holding out for a girl who’s as gut a cook as our mamm—”

  “And who picks up after him, same as she does,” Mary added with an emphatic nod. “Wants his things all neat and tidy—shirts pressed just so—but he shows no inclination to lift a finger when it comes to keeping his room neat.”

  “Blames it on Noah, that their room is such a sty.”

  Abby and the older women smiled at one another as the Coblentz twins chattered on. Hadn’t they all had similar conversations when they were girls gathered around a quilting circle?

  Abby wondered if things would be different now with James if she had baked him more cherry cobblers—or poked him straight out with a crochet hook of words about her feelings for him?

  Thoughts like that took her nowhere, of course. The last time Abby had spoken with James, he’d shared his frustration over the way Noah often showed up tardy and sleepy-eyed—sure signs that the young redhead was out late, pushing his rumspringa to the limit. James felt Noah showed an aptitude for painting and restoration, though, and he had a good eye for welding. It had hardly been romantic talk.

  But James was moving forward. He’d adjusted the expectations he’d had about being married two months ago, just as Abby had reached that moment last year at about this time, when she’d asked Amos and Owen Coblentz to draw up plans for her house. If folks were to find any contentment in life, they had to stop looking wistfully backward so they could forge ahead with a clear vision.

  And how could she help Zanna move on, too, now that Jonny Ropp seemed to be ignoring her?

  “I don’t see how taking these rugs over with the men’s dinner will change anything,” Zanna protested as she dressed to go with Phoebe and Gail the next day. “I made that first one with the blue dress fabric for Adah, jah, but the rest were for selling in the store.”

  Abby gazed into her sister’s cornflower eyes, wondering how best to explain her theory. “Six rugs you’ve made over the past couple months, but you’re keeping them around… like you can’t quite let go of them. Maybe because each one turned out prettier than the last,” she added with a smile. “Maybe if you consider this your goodwill offering, and let Jonny and the other fellas see how you’re giving the work of your heart and hands, just like they are, it’ll show how far you’ve come in forgiving the woman who railed at you the loudest when you decided to keep your baby.”

  Zanna considered the suggestion, looking doubtful. “But isn’t that being prideful?”

  “No more prideful than those men sharing their best talents, knowing they’re good at what they do,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe Jonny will realize how much Sam and James and the others are donating—not because Rudy’s been nice to them but because they believe in helping folks who are in a bad way. Your rugs would be especially for Adah, too. More personal than a house, even though that’s the bigger gift.”

  Zanna said thoughtfully, “Like the woman in Jesus’ story who put in the two coins, and He said it was the greater gift because it was all she had?”

  “Jah, that’s a gut way to think of it—as long as you don’t go telling folks about it. That’s where the prideful part would come in.”<
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  Zanna went to her room and came back with three of her rugs rolled up. She picked up the tin of decorated Christmas cookies she’d made the day before. “I’d better be scooting along. We’ve still got to stop by Beulah Mae’s café to pick up the roast beef.”

  As she walked down the path that Abby had shoveled to Sam’s house, Zanna hoped her older sister was right: maybe donating her rugs would show Jonny that her heart was in the right place. And if he didn’t take the hint, or wouldn’t talk to her, well… she had planned to live without his help, anyway. For all she knew, he would disappear again after his dat came home from the hospital.

  When she reached the carriage her nieces had loaded, Zanna tossed the rugs into the backseat and then climbed in beside them, careful not to disturb the two pans of cobbler on the floor. “Morning to you, Aunt Zanna!” Gail said from the front.

  “Ready to see the new Ropp house—oh, and Jonny, too?” Phoebe teased as she took the reins.

  “I suppose.” Zanna shrugged. “Not counting on a lot from him, considering how he hasn’t said boo since he learned the baby was his.” The two girls in front got quiet then, and she was sorry she’d dampened their mood.

  “So, these are what you’ve been making, all those days you’ve been holed up at Aunt Abby’s?” Gail reached back for the smallest rug and untied the string around it. “Ooh, sister, would you look at the way Zanna worked in all these bright colors! Red, gold, and rust calicos, and ginghams that go with them.”

  Phoebe let Tucker make his own way down Lambright Lane. Once they were on the county road, she ran her hand around the crocheted rows that formed the rug’s circle. “All these years, we had no idea that Zanna had such a way of turning rags into rugs—and riches,” she said with a laugh. “If Owen finally takes the hint and we get hitched one of these days, will you make me one big enough for a front room? Anybody’s home would look cozier with rugs like these.”

  Zanna’s eyes widened. These pieces had mostly been a way to pass the long afternoons, and maybe make some money. She’d had no idea her nieces would be so excited about her work. “Jah, I suppose—”

  “And you can’t make a special rug for Phoebe unless you make one for me, too,” Gail chirped. “Start on it anytime, and I’ll tuck it away in my cedar chest. It’ll be special because you made it, Aunt Zanna.”

  As they stopped by Mrs. Nissley’s Kitchen for a large catering pan of sliced roast beef, Zanna reminded herself not to get carried away on this tide of excitement. It was natural for Sam’s girls to make a fuss over her handiwork, but it was another thing altogether to hope Jonny would speak to her today. It had stung like a wasp that he’d been more willing to pay for an abortion than to help her raise his baby, and it went against all the values they’d been raised with, too.

  “And would you look at that,” Gail crowed as they rounded the bend of the county road. A new two-story house of fresh lumber stood where the old place had been, with the milking barn behind it. “Except for the black spots in the snow, you can’t even tell there was a fire.”

  “And they’ve put on one of those fancy metal roofs, too. That’s a wild shade of copper.”

  “Looks like a big autumn leaf. Or a giant metallic pumpkin rind, all flattened out.” Phoebe halted the horse, and then they picked up the cobblers and the Dutch oven of green beans. “We’ll let the men carry the meat and that box of plates. You’re not to be lifting anything heavy, Aunt Zanna.”

  Amos Coblentz came over to help them. “Better come on down and get dinner while it’s hot,” he called to the crew atop the house. “Gut as it all smells, it won’t last long, fellas.”

  Owen’s father grinned at them and then lifted the hot catering pan as though it weighed nothing. “What do you think of that fancy roof? A company in Kirksville donated it to get some free advertising. Figured folks driving along the state highway would see it, along with their sign down by the road.”

  “It looks like it ought to outlast a shingle roof. More fireproof, too,” Zanna said. She grabbed her tin of Christmas cookies and the three rolled-up rugs, thinking to stick them someplace where they’d stay clean and out of the carpenters’ way. She heard the whine of pneumatic drills and the rat-tat-tat of air hammers as she and the girls made their way carefully along the icy path.

  As she followed Amos through the side door, however, another one of the crew hollered, “I’ll go fetch the rest of our dinner.” Before Zanna knew what hit her, her rugs flew out of her arms and the cookie tin fell to the floor. Frosted stars, Christmas trees, and angels spilled out onto the gritty subflooring—all yesterday morning she’d spent decorating them, too!

  Jonny Ropp backed away, startled. “Zanna! I’m sorry for not watching—are you okay, girl?”

  The roomful of men and tools fell silent.

  She blushed, nodding. “Jah, I’m fine.”

  “Ten-second rule!” somebody across the room hollered.

  “Been eatin’ sawdust all day, anyway. What’s a little more?” Mose Hartzler teased.

  “That yellow star with the sprinkles has my name on it.” Owen Coblentz and the fellows closest to Zanna snatched up the cookies at their feet while an older hand retrieved the tin. The room—what was to be the kitchen—filled with exclamations over her goodies as the shiny red container got passed from one tool-belted carpenter to the next.

  “Life’s short, eat dessert first,” Abe Nissley declared. The silver-bearded preacher grinned at her, gesturing with a gingerbread house that had a big bite out of it. “If you made these for Jonny, he’ll just have to come see you to fetch his own, ain’t so?”

  Jonny still looked stunned. Was it because he’d run smack into her, or because he hadn’t expected her to come to the site? He went outside then, while other men laid a couple of unfinished doors across sawhorses to use as tables. Zanna and the girls set out plates and silverware, and soon the other food and the big coffee urn had been carried inside. The crew of a dozen found crates and step stools to sit on, and then bowed their heads for a moment of silent prayer.

  “Dig in, fellows. I’ll be right there. I want to admire these rugs Zanna brought in.”

  Zanna’s eyes widened when Bishop Gingerich picked up the rag rugs and spread them on a cleared worktable for all to see. This was not what she’d planned.

  “Here’s another example of how the answer to our dilemma often appears if we ask for heavenly direction,” Vernon went on. “We were discussing what colors to paint these rooms, as Adah’s still at the hospital with Rudy, and her boys said they’d rather not second-guess their mamm’s preferences.”

  Laughter rang around Zanna, and the men’s faces lit up. Jonny and Gideon chuckled sheepishly as they tucked away gravied roast beef and mashed potatoes.

  “I suggest we paint the kitchen cream, to go with this one,” the bishop said as he held up the first oval she’d made. “And this round one’s just right for stepping out of the shower, so maybe the bathroom should be pale yellow? And wouldn’t any of us want to sink our feet into this rectangular green one when we get out of bed on a cold morning?”

  The men were nodding, following the bishop’s conversation as they ate. Phoebe was spooning up a big bowl of cherry cobbler, smiling at Owen, while Gail poured hot coffee for Gideon Ropp. Eager to be out of the spotlight, Zanna fetched more of Mamm’s warm rolls from their insulated bag.

  “Is one of those the rug Rudy was all upset about during church?” Preacher Paul asked her as he reached into the bread basket.

  Zanna’s cheeks went hot, recalling the strain of those moments, both here at the Ropp house on Thanksgiving Day and again at preaching the next Sunday. “Jah, the first one, with the blue. I—I brought along a couple more, thinking how Adah’s lost everything she had in the fire.”

  Vernon raised an eyebrow. “You were making these rugs to sell, weren’t you? Part of your way to support your baby?”

  She closed her eyes. Could this questioning possibly get any more public—any more embar
rassing? What must Jonny and Gideon think, now that the bishop was revisiting the issues their parents had raised about her pregnancy? “Jah, but—I can make more,” she added on sudden inspiration. “They go together fast.”

  “I’ll be wanting a couple for Eva,” Zeke Detweiler exclaimed. “Make them mostly red—her favorite color—and about the size of that big oval one.”

  “Lois just finished a flower garden quilt, so she’d be tickled to have new rugs for both sides of our bed!” Ezra Yutzy called out.

  “Well, if Beulah Mae hears your wife got two new rugs, she’ll have to have three!” Abe chimed in with a chuckle. “Zanna, those are wonderful-gut rugs. You’ve been hiding your talent under a basket all these years.”

  Zanna’s jaw dropped as every married man in the room called out a rug order. “Wait! I’ll never remember who wants what.”

  “I’ll write them down for you.” Phoebe playfully snatched a carpenter’s pencil from Owen’s shirt pocket. “And if you fellas are looking for a special Christmas present for somebody, you could write out a gift certificate for a rug and put Zanna’s name and number on it. Then whoever gets it can call her and order exactly the right colors and size.”

  “Now that’s a fine idea,” the bishop replied with a big grin. “My mamm and her two sisters are shut-ins now, but wouldn’t they love to have new rugs to brighten their rooms in our dawdi house?”

  Who could have believed this overwhelming response to her rugs? While Phoebe wrote down the orders, Zanna and Gail passed around the remaining cobbler and poured coffee. The bishop came up beside Zanna then, looking mighty pleased. “It’s a pleasure to see you helping with our meal—and even better to see how everybody wants your work,” he said as he held his mug beneath her carafe. “Don’t shortchange yourself, come time to decide on a price for those rugs. We all want you to succeed, Zanna. You’ve gone against the grain a time or two, but your heart’s in the right place.”