Abby Finds Her Calling (22 page)

“Sounds like you had a notion you didn’t want to be Mrs. Graber, even then.”

“Jah. But I was too scared to tell anybody. Then later, I couldn’t tell Jonny about the baby, either, though that was my intention when I ran off the morning of the wedding.”

Zanna eased away to look at Abby, sighing sadly. “I’ve joined the church, so marrying Jonny’s not an option. And he’ll think I’m forcing his hand if I lay on the blame for the baby to lure him back to Cedar Creek.” She shook her head. “That’s no way to catch a man if you want him to love you of his own free will—not that Jonny would figure out that
love
part, the way I did a long time ago.”

Abby ached for her little sister… ached for the young woman so caught up in a fellow that Mamm and Sam would never approve of. But the situation made more sense now; she understood that Zanna hadn’t acted on a moment’s compulsion on the July day when she’d conceived Jonny’s child.

And just as Jonny Ropp had no inkling of the depth of Zanna’s love for him, Zanna had no idea how deeply committed James had been to her. What a sad triangle, where none of the emotions and intentions matched up, so all three parties were left unfulfilled, hurting, and lonely.

Oh, Abby knew how
that
felt, too!

“So what I’m saying is… calling Jonny might turn into a gut thing for Adah and me, and for Jonny, too.” Zanna was reasoning aloud, although she didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe hearing his voice will give me the courage to tell him about the baby—or at least tell him how bad his mamm’s missing him. If he can’t hook up with me and his child, maybe at least he can come see Adah—or meet her somewhere.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “I can’t think you want to tell Jonny about the baby over the phone, Zanna. That’s kind of personal—and who knows how he might react?”

Zanna shrugged as though she had no further ideas. She looked young and vulnerable, a far cry from the raging, protesting teenager who hated rules and regulations.

“Do you want me to drive you to where Jonny is, then? Maybe if—”

“No! I don’t want to get
you
in trouble, too, Abby. It’d look like you were going against the limits of my shunning, and—” She let out a short sob. “I—I don’t know what I want anymore. Or what to do. I’m so confused about everything.”

“Comes with being pregnant, they say.”

“But I know if there was a way to marry Jonny, a way for him to really love me, and for me to stay in gut standing with our family and
the church,” Zanna added tearfully, “I’d jump through a hundred hoops to be his wife. To raise this baby with him.”

Abby’s heart swelled. Zanna hadn’t sounded this certain about anything in a long, long time, even if some of the logic didn’t add up. But then, when had love ever been logical? In a perfect world, Abby could see things coming together for the best, for Zanna and Jonny… for her and James…

But the world wasn’t perfect, was it? Abby recalled being Zanna’s age and believing things could work out the way her heart wanted them to, if only she believed strongly enough. “Well, then, sister,” she murmured, thumbing the tears from Zanna’s sweet face, “hold on to that thought and that hope, that things will work out. Because if you give up hoping, it’s for sure and for certain you won’t find what you’re looking for.”

Zanna nodded. She looked drained. Resigned.

“Tell you what.” Abby glanced out the window, and was surprised to see snow falling in thick, fat flakes. “I’ve got some nice-size scraps left from Lois’s curtains, and some of Sam’s fabric bolts are low enough to be discounted as fat quarters, like we sell for quilting and other projects. There’s no rule saying a rug has to be all rags, you know!” She ran the toe of her shoe along the edge of the oval on the floor. “This rug you made for Adah is one of the best I’ve ever seen, Zanna. Your stitches are relaxed and even, and you balanced the colors so well. And it lies flat, too.”

“Denki for saying so—”

“Maybe rug making’s not the most exciting way to pass the time, but it’s something we could sell in the store so you could put the money toward baby things.” Abby smiled at her. “Think about it, all right? I’ll fetch those other pieces of fabric from the store, in case you decide to start a new rug.”

J
ust after midnight that evening, Abby heard her sister slip down the hall and then out the front door, closing it very quietly behind her. Abby sighed. It was so tempting to throw the quilts over her head, but being her sister’s keeper was a full-time job—like parenting, or caretaking for an elderly relative.

In her urgency, Zanna didn’t realize how visible she was on this clear, moonlit night: a figure cloaked in black, slogging through the eight inches of snow that had fallen since midmorning. And at seventeen, she didn’t realize how transparent her ideas and actions were. Down the lane to the road she went. Moments later, the pale glow of her flashlight lit the phone shanty.

Abby watched from the window near her bed. Such a beautiful night it was. The snow had stopped, and the frosted branches of the trees and evergreens glowed in the moonlight. The world felt hushed, and Abby could see the rolling white pastures beyond Sam’s house and the Grabers’. Courting couples would be out in sleighs, cuddled beneath layers of blankets as Belgians pulled them across pristine white pastures—but that wasn’t Zanna’s option right now.

The poor girl had shared so many of her feelings that Abby hadn’t slept soundly, as she ran the revelations through her mind
again and again. Together they’d ripped bright, colorful strips of new fabric for another rug, but her sister had much larger projects in mind… bigger dreams and bolder ideas. And rightly so.

Abby slipped into her flannel robe and went to the front room to wait. Again, it was tempting to allow Zanna her secret trip to the phone shanty—even though everyone in Sam’s house would see her tracks, come morning. By the time Abby peeked out the window beside her favorite sewing chair, Zanna was already heading back to the house.

Not much of a phone call. Had Jonny not answered? Or had he yanked the proverbial rug out from under Zanna again, giving her a reaction she hadn’t counted on? The girl was head over heels, no doubt about it. Abby hoped, what with all the other disappointments Zanna had faced lately, that the most daring and dashing of the Ropp boys hadn’t taken her heart for a wild ride.

Help me say the right things, Lord
, she prayed as she waited in the dimness.
Help me to be the blessing Zanna needs right now.

As the door opened, Abby held her breath. Zanna slipped out of her black coat and bonnet and hung them back in the closet. It would be easy to stay still, and maybe her sister would return to bed to ponder whatever she’d heard on the phone. But why should she lie awake herself and let her sister get all the sleep?

“And what did Jonny have to say?” Abby asked quietly.

Zanna jumped, her hand flying to her chest. “Scared me half to—what are you doing, Abby? Spying on me?”

“I had a lot on my mind. I was awake when you passed my room.” Abby chuckled, making her hair shimmy down her back. “It’s not like Sam and the others won’t know where you went. Your footprints will be visible in the snow.”

Zanna slumped in the chair on the other side of the lamp table. “Jah, I figured that out halfway to the road. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. Does that make me wicked? In need of another confession this Sunday?”

Abby detected just enough sarcasm that she left that remark
alone. No good would come of pressing Zanna for details she didn’t want to share. Silence was the best way to make folks squirm, and then spill out what they were thinking.

“He didn’t answer, so I got his voice mail. Like you said, it didn’t seem right to say how bad his mamm missed him, or to tell him about his baby, over the phone—much less by leaving a message.” Zanna let out a short, mirthless laugh. “So I dialed again, just to hear Jonny’s voice saying to leave my name and number and he’d call back. I couldn’t do that, either, though. Does that make me a coward, Abby?”

“It just means you’re nervous and scared, as any girl in your shoes would be.”

Zanna let out a long, sad sigh. “And I keep wondering, too, how I’m supposed to—how I’ll ever manage to be both a mamm and a dat to a newborn and still earn enough to keep us going like I told Sam I would.”

“Zanna. You can stop that kind of thinking right this minute.” Abby rose to wrap her arms around her sister, who seemed to be on the verge of another crying fit. “Did you really think we’d shut you out? Make you raise this baby all by yourself?”

Zanna hugged her harder. “But I told everybody… I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for when I…”

“Can you name me one Amish woman who’s ever had to raise a baby all alone?” Abby lifted her sister’s face, which still felt chilled from her walk outside. “Your family wouldn’t do that to you, Zanna. Even Sam agreed to stand by you, knowing full well what that would mean. Knowing how folks will talk and tell him he should have done things different.”

Zanna’s breathing became deeper as she considered these things.

“And then there’s this: you know how many little sets of clothes are tucked away in the attic at Sam’s. How many diapers and bibs and booties.” Abby smiled as she recalled the births of Sam and Barbara’s four children… and the way they’d all welcomed this girl in her arms, seventeen years ago. “And you can’t think Phoebe or
Gail or Ruthie will let you keep this baby all to yourself, once it’s born. Not to mention Mamm and Barbara.”

“Jah, there’s that.” Zanna looked up at her, smiling as best she could. “Sometimes my mind whirls in useless circles, ain’t so? Like when your sewing machine belt snaps and no matter how hard you pump the treadle, the needle won’t go.”

Abby chuckled. “But we know how to fix that. And we’ve got plenty of folks living right here on Lambright Lane wanting the best for you, and for this baby—even if it’s a situation that none of us has taken on before,” she added. “We’ve just got to have faith instead of fear. We’ve got to believe that somehow this will work out for the gut in every one of our lives, in ways we can’t know about. That’s God’s job, to understand how it’ll all fit together.”

Zanna stood up then, allowing her weariness to take over. “Maybe what I need is a gut night’s sleep, now that you put all these wild notions to rest for me, Abby.”

Her sister removed her kapp and let down her hair, so pale it glimmered in the moonlight coming through the window. She’d gotten her looks from Mamm’s side… the longer facial structure and fair skin and blue eyes. At times like these when Zanna let down her guard she seemed as fragile, as lovely, as any angel. “How is it you came to be so kind and wise, Abby?” she whispered. “I don’t seem to have a brain in my head some days.”

“And how is it you got the flawless skin and golden hair while I came out looking like Sam?”

Zanna laughed. “Just lucky on that count, I guess.”

“We’re every one of us blessed.” Abby hugged her once more, savoring this moment when all was well once again. “Night, now.”

“Night, now.” Abby watched Zanna amble to her room, and then went over to the table where their afternoon’s rug strips hung over three spare chairs. Her sister had begun the center of this new rug, which had already taken the shape of a rectangle, in a bolder mix of prints and colors than her first project.

And just like they chose the prints and the plain colors—the curves or the squared corners—it was God’s doing that all the strips worked into something useful and all of a piece. And if Zanna thought Abby was kind and wise, that was God’s doing, too. If only she could live up to that when the road got bumpy again.

Early the next morning, James settled into the phone shanty’s rickety chair. Time to call that amusement park fellow to say the white princess carriage was on its way, and tomorrow being Thanksgiving, he wanted to get a jump on any customer calls that needed his attention. The little red button was blinking, which meant messages were waiting for him, or for the Cedar Creek Mercantile, Abby’s Stitch in Time, or Treva’s Greenhouse—or any members of their two families.

The Grabers and Lambrights had shared this phone ever since the previous bishop had allowed their businesses to have one: Emma and Sam’s girls had insisted they get a new message machine where everyone punched in a personal code, but Sam was having none of that. He had informed his daughters they could do their courting in person if they didn’t want anyone else to listen in on their love lives.

James punched the
PLAY
button. A Stoltzfuz gal from over west, in Jamesport, needed Sam to call her about carrying some of their jams and pickled veggies in his store… Treva’s Aunt Mattie from Indiana wanted to pass along some family news…

“Zanna, you called me twice last night, after midnight, but left no message,” a male voice rumbled in his ear. “Missing me again, babycakes? Been w-a-ay too long since I’ve seen your pretty face.”

James exhaled like he’d been sucker-punched.

“So if you want me to swing on by for you, gimme a call. You’ve got my number, girl. Bye, now.”

“Jah, and I’ve got your number, too, you doggone—” James smacked the top of the old table. Why had Zanna called Jonny Ropp? And why at such a late hour?