Abby Finds Her Calling (4 page)

From where James sat in his buggy on the ridge between the Nissley farm and Mervin Mast’s place, he could see for miles in every direction, west toward Bloomingdale and east past Clearwater to the Iowa line. Peaceful old silos and white houses nestled among the gentle hills… pastures dotted with cattle and sheep… groves of sycamores and maple trees growing along the creeks. James had the feeling he wouldn’t spot his intended even if he had brought his binoculars: there were too many places for her to hide.

And why was Zanna hiding? Why had she run off on the most important day of their lives?

He thought back, looking for clues. The golden-haired girl across the road had always had a special sparkle—and just enough spunk to take on a catchy new name when she’d entered her rumspringa at sixteen. The locals—his mother among them—had shaken their heads and speculated about such a girl’s future, but James had never doubted Zanna’s innate goodness. Soon after Cedar Creek witnessed Jonny and Gideon Ropp’s departure from the community—in Jonny’s flashy new van—Treva and Leroy had seen that their daughter took her instructions to join the church. The Lambrights didn’t want the notoriety of having a girl who left the faith.

Wasn’t that about the time James had started wandering over to the mercantile more often, to catch a glimpse of Zanna stocking the shelves? And who could have guessed Leroy Lambright would keel over from an aneurism that burst in his brain? The poor man hadn’t even gotten to witness Zanna’s baptismal vows the following month.

Is she hiding… from me?

James held his head in his hands. Had he pursued her too intently? Asked Sam for her hand too soon? Zanna was just seventeen,
but she’d looked so forlorn after her dat’s passing that James couldn’t help reaching out to her.

And oh, how Zanna had blossomed. Her laughter had teased at something deep within him, promising a life made richer—more adventurous—by her presence, even if she could sometimes be as willful as a Missouri mule, even if her youthful sense of humor sometimes went a little too far…

What if she had watched him race away this morning and then gone back home? Maybe she’d been sitting on the pew, grinning… making him look like the one who took off.

James clucked to his gelding and headed back toward Cedar Creek. His expression wavered between a hopeful smile and a grimace as he imagined all those guests listening to Bishop Gingerich talk on and on, waiting for the groom to appear.

He entered the Lambright place from the back road, noting the dozens of tipped-up buggies that still filled every available space along the lane and between the barn and the house. He drove past Abby’s neat little home, shiny and white in the morning sun. Now
there
was another riddle no man could solve.

Abigail Lambright would make someone a perfect wife, yet she’d not
resigned
herself to becoming a maidel—she’d
declared
herself one. And wasn’t it just her way to take on the task of telling him about Zanna this morning? Abby saw what needed to be done and got on with it. No finger-pointing. No hysterics.

If only this crisis with her sister could blow over, and he could marry Zanna after all. Then maybe he’d chat with Abby about how to help guide Zanna into her role as a wife and eventually a mother. Now that he thought over the past few weeks, he realized there had been times when Zanna had acted a little skittish. James had excused her behavior as prewedding jitters and the fact that Zanna and her mamm were often at odds. Maybe Zanna—and he—needed the kind of advice Abby was so good at giving. Where had Abigail Lambright learned so much about love and life, anyway?

As James stepped down from his buggy, a hymn drifted from the open doors of the large barn. He knew the song well: the Old Order wedding ceremony hadn’t changed in generations, so there had been no need for a rehearsal. Certainly no talk of writing his own vows, as some of his English friends had done.

Swallowing his humiliation, James slipped in through the back door. He peered around the men in black suits who were packed into the pews.

No one sat up front in the row reserved for the wedding party.

His face prickled with heat. As the hymn ended, James turned to go, even though he had no idea to
where
.

“James Graber! We’re glad you’ve returned, son,” Bishop Gingerich hailed him from the front of the gathering. “Did you find your bride?”

James wanted to shrivel up and blow away, except there was no escaping the hundreds of eyes now focused on him. “No. No sign of her anywhere.”

The bishop folded his hands, smiling with sad compassion. “There will come a day when we’ll see the wisdom the Lord is teaching us during this time of trial, James,” he declared solemnly. “Until then, we wait and watch. And we’ll pray for our sister Suzanna, and for you, James, that you’ll each find a peace that passes all understanding. God is with us more than ever in those moments when we feel the most alone.”

As Abby bustled between the long tables of wedding guests with her water pitcher, she couldn’t help glancing at James, her dear friend, who shook the hands of the many folks who commiserated with him. They were serving the meal in Mamm’s big greenhouse, and while the potted mums made a pretty setting, the glass walls and ceiling seemed to magnify all that had gone wrong.

Poor James. Perhaps he would always feel more love for Zanna than she was capable of understanding or returning. Maybe someday he would realize that.

And poor Mamm. She sat among her closest friends, allowing them to cluck over her. The first shift of folks left the tables so others could take their places on the pews they’d moved in from the barn. Barbara and her girls, along with Emma and several of the neighbor women, carried pans of hot chicken and refilled the bowls of creamed celery, mashed potatoes, and so many other favorite dishes Abby had looked forward to feasting on. Not a forkful would go to waste, yet it seemed so
wrong
. This whole occasion felt like such a sham without Zanna there.

And what would she write for the
Budget
? Abby was the local scribe for the nation’s Plain newspaper, and she’d reported on Zanna’s engagement with such joy a few months ago.

Her great-aunt Mattie reached up for a hug. “I hope your sister turns up real soon, Abigail,” she murmured. “It’ll be your mamm’s undoing if she doesn’t.”

“Jah, we’ll keep you in our prayers,” Mattie’s sister, Fern, agreed. “We’ve never seen the likes of this before!”

Abby set down the pitcher to embrace these elderly ladies, who had hired a driver to travel all the way from Indiana for this big day. “We’re so glad you came,” she replied. “We don’t get to see nearly enough of you.”

Mattie pursed her thin lips. “Well, I won’t be making the trip again—even if they set another wedding date and Suzanna convinces everyone she’ll go through with it.”

“I don’t imagine Sam would be any too keen on footing the bill for that, either,” Fern speculated as she scanned the crowd for him.

Abby glanced at her older brother, noting how worn he looked. “Sam was hoping James would be the fella to settle Zanna in some kind of purpose. He’s not used to having his plans thrown back in his face.”

“Things’ll get interesting, for sure and for certain,” Mattie agreed.

Fern’s smile resembled her sister’s. “We’ll be waiting for your letter, telling us what all this was really about.”

Abby smiled glumly. It wasn’t always a joy to be the one who
started the family’s round-robin letters. Where did she draw the line between keeping her aunts informed and telling tales on her little sister? Even if Zanna had a perfectly good reason for running away…

But what reason would any woman have for leaving James Graber in the lurch? For humiliating him this way?

It was an answer only Zanna could give.

“W
hen any of you see Zanna,” Sam announced as they all sat in the kitchen late that evening, “you’re not to let her in this house. Understand? Not until she’s answered to me for the way she’s disgraced us today.”

Mamm’s face crumpled, and Abby grabbed her trembling hand. It was after eight. Their out-of-state guests had started for home, and after a long day of commiserating, their neighbors had finally left, as well. They were all exhausted.

“Sam,” Abby said, softly chiding her brother, “this is Zanna’s home, and—well, we’ll see the situation in a better light after a night’s rest.”

“You think any of us will
sleep
?” Sam glared at Abby from the end of the table. His four children and his wife sat back, as though to stay out of the line of fire. “I plan to keep watch until that young lady apologizes. She’ll have plenty to confess before the church, as well.”

Barbara cleared her throat gingerly. “I’m thinking she’s still not herself after her dat’s passing and—”

“He was my dat, too!” Sam smacked the table with his palm,
making them all jump. “And right now I wish he were still alive so he could march that girl out to the barn for a gut talking-to.”

“Sam!” Barbara said with an apologetic glance at her mother-in-law. “Your parents did their best to raise her.”

“And you kids should consider this fair warning,” he continued, looking pointedly at his three daughters and Matt, in turn. “Don’t think for a minute that I’ll make excuses for you if you duck out of such a solemn promise as your aunt Suzanna made to James Graber. It’s indecent, the way she treated him today, and I’ll have no more of it in my house.”

His voice rang in a kitchen that had gone painfully silent. The ticking of the clock marked the minutes until Mamm rose slowly from her chair. She looked about a hundred years old. “Going to bed,” she murmured. “I’ve had about all I can take of this day.”

Abby blinked back tears. “Can I make you some chamomile tea, Mamm? Or sit with you until you sleep?”

“I’ve got a lot to pray on, and I’d best do it alone. But denki, Abby,” she added with a sad smile. “You’re a gut girl.”

Abby’s tears welled up again and she could only nod. They had all fretted enough today that such a loving thought should have soothed her soul. Yet in her mother’s tenderness Abby heard regret… a silent condemnation of the daughter whose behavior had marked them as a family of scandal. It would be weeks before their friends, making their everyday purchases at the mercantile, would stop asking about Zanna. Mamm couldn’t avoid such curiosity in her shop, either. Treva’s Greenhouse was in its peak fall season, with her selling ornamental gourds, pumpkins, and potted mums of every color. Folks would inquire about the runaway bride out of concern, but their questions would take a toll on the family’s emotions.

And what if we get no answers? What if she’s gone for good?

Abby stood with a tired sigh. “Guess I’ll run some hot water, then,” she murmured to her nieces. “You girls grab the scrub brushes
and we’ll redd up this kitchen for your mamm. The best cure for heartache is hard work, ain’t so?”

Abby knocked on the door in Sam’s back hallway and then slipped inside the dawdi haus. This addition had been built on when her dat’s parents were aging, and Dat and Mamm had moved into it when Sam took over the store a few years ago. These rooms kept everybody close and cared for, on land the Lambrights had owned since her great-grandparents had come here from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to help start the Cedar Creek community. “Mamm, are you all right?” she whispered as she entered the bedroom.

“I’m better now, jah.” Her mother sat in a rocking chair by the window. With only the moon for light and her silvery hair trailing down over her white nightgown, she resembled an angel. “Figured you’d come for a visit, Abby, so I waited up.”

“I’m sorry Sam got so testy.”

“He’s worried about Zanna. He has a tougher time showing it than the rest of us.” Mamm patted the edge of the bed, and when Abby sat down, they clasped hands. “Your dat was a tough one, too—on the outside,” her mother continued. “But Zanna knew he loved her. I believe she wouldn’t have run off had Leroy been here to talk to her.”

“Jah, I’ve thought so, too.”

“She might not have gotten engaged to James, either, truth be told.”

Abby’s eyes widened. Where was
this
line of thought coming from?

The rocker creaked when Mamm leaned closer so her voice wouldn’t carry through the walls. “Your dat and I hoped Zanna might wait a while to marry… have more running-around time for her rumspringa, after she stopped seeing the Ropp boy.”

Abby recalled that difficult time. The whole town had discussed Jonny’s dramatic departure from his family and the church in a fancy
red van. He’d broken all ties, never came around anymore. “But Zanna took her church instructions.”

“Because your dat wanted to be sure she’d become a baptized member.”

“And then she latched right onto James when he came calling on her,” Abby whispered bitterly. She was too tired to discuss this now, but Mamm would understand feelings she could share with no one else. “If Zanna wasn’t ready to settle down, why did she have to shatter his dreams by agreeing to marry him and then running off?”

Mamm sighed and squeezed her hand. “She’s barely seventeen, Abby. Hardly a woman, much less ready to be a wife. I suspect she doesn’t know who she is yet, or what she wants to do with her life,” her mother explained. “James is a wonderful-gut man and I’m sorry he’s never spared you a second glance, Abby. I know you’ve always cared for him.”