Abby Finds Her Calling (20 page)

“And while I don’t feel real gut about the way Zanna left me in the lurch,” he continued in a strained voice, “I felt worse after hearing how she’d been talked about and pointed at, with other folks in the store to witness it. That’s not a very kind or Christlike way to treat a girl in trouble, seems to me.”

Abby’s pulse pounded. James wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see, and once again she wanted to say an encouraging or comforting word to her longtime friend. But this wasn’t the time or the place.

“Seems to me the wagging tongues and pointing fingers are becoming as troublesome as Zanna’s situation,” Abe Nissley observed as he scowled at his wife and Eunice. “But there
is
that matter of shared responsibility for her being pregnant, and it’ll keep coming around until something’s done about it.” Preacher Abe focused on Adah Ropp then, his expression softening as though he suspected the answer before he asked his question. “What do you hear from Jonny these days, Adah? And why is Rudy not here with you tonight?”

Jonny’s mother crossed her arms. Her face went tight. Adah wasn’t accustomed to being asked such direct questions, even though that was
her
way of dealing with people. Abe hadn’t made any accusations; as a matter of fact, his tone suggested a situation that might not be common knowledge. And Adah’s hesitation… her changing expressions… suggested that the preacher had found a soft spot beneath her starched kapp and stiff chin. But then, wasn’t it harder to remain calm and strong when folks were being
nice
?

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 and 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.”