Abby Finds Her Calling (34 page)

“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 embarrassing? 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.”

“Denki for starting that—that avalanche of rug orders,” she murmured happily.

Vernon smiled as his gaze wandered over to where Jonny rose from the table. “The Lord helps those who help themselves—and
those who help their parents, too,” he replied. “James Graber mentioned how you’d called Jonny after the house burned down. And that led to him saving his dat’s life, and then calling Gideon home to keep the dairy running. There’s no end to what can come of one good idea put into action, Zanna. Faith truly can move mountains.”

Had her phone call to Jonny been an act of faith—or of desperation? As she and Sam’s girls stacked the dirty dishes, Zanna hoped the bishop’s remark would hold true as far as how Jonny responded to fatherhood. The men rose from the makeshift tables, their thank-yous filling the room before they went back to work. When Zanna glanced around, she saw that one particular blond and his brother had made themselves scarce already.

No sense in getting upset about it. Hadn’t all those rug orders given her better things to think about—so much work that heartache couldn’t worm its way into her Christmas season?

“Don’t leave without me,” Gail whispered as she slipped into her coat. “Gideon asked me to meet him out in the barn for a minute.”

Zanna’s smile felt lopsided. “Jah, Phoebe’s touring the rooms here with the fella who helped put them together. We can’t leave if we don’t have a driver, ain’t so?”

And meanwhile, she might as well make herself useful. No courting for her today, it seemed.

Zanna stacked the dirty plates in the box and laid the silverware alongside them. The Dutch oven had barely a cup of green beans left in it, and nearly all the roast and potatoes were gone, too. The pans were now light enough that she could load them into the carriage, so she and the girls would get home sooner to eat their own lunch. The air hammer started in the room above her as she went to the door, balancing the bean pot inside the two cherry-smeared glass pans.

A hand reached around her and clamped over the doorknob. “You’ve got no business carrying that, girl. Stack the rest of the stuff so I can do the walking over that ice out there. Then I’ll help you over the slick spots.”

Jonny stood beside her, his face mere inches from hers—but only for a moment. Zanna surrendered her dirty pans, mumbled her thanks, and returned to the table to do as she’d been told.

Since when do you jump just because he says so?

That voice in her head made a good point, yet it seemed the smart thing for a girl in her condition to consider. After he’d carried the catering pans out, Jonny Ropp stood in the doorway looking her over. It was then that Zanna realized he was wearing broadfall work pants instead of designer jeans… and suspenders over his blue shirt instead of a belt with a fancy buckle. As the baby fluttered inside her, Zanna reminded herself not to get too excited: a change to Plain work clothes didn’t commit him to Plain ways—or to her.

He glanced around the unfinished kitchen. “I nearly fell on my butt just now,” he remarked, “so we’re taking no chances with you, missy. This box Mamm’s new stove came in looks like just the sleigh we’ll be needing.”

Zanna looked at the beautiful new cookstove in the corner—a far nicer one than anything Adah could have hoped for before the fire. “And it came in pieces? You put it all together?”

Jonny shrugged. “It was simple, really.” They slid the box through the door to the snowy path outside and Zanna sat down in it, feeling very awkward. Jonny started pushing her toward the carriage that awaited them on the icy lane. She hoped Gail and Phoebe wouldn’t be long, because sitting out in the carriage sounded like a cold, lonely wait.

Next thing she knew, Jonny was laughing. He shoved her box across the slick ice toward the slope that had frozen when the fire trucks doused the flames. When he hopped in beside her, Zanna shrieked—right before they swooped down the hillside at a crazy speed while Jonny threw his weight against his side of the box to make them spin.

She began to giggle and couldn’t stop. The sheer exhilaration of careening across the pasture, watching the white world and the farm
buildings whirl around them, sent her heartbeat into high gear. By the time they leveled off at the bottom of the hill, Jonny’s arm had slipped around her. They came to a gradual stop, but Zanna’s pulse kept right on racing.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Jonny muttered. “We could have hit a tree, or—if the box had come apart, you’d have been—” He gazed intently at her, shaking his head. “I seem to be real gut at doing all the wrong things, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for having fun. I haven’t laughed this way since—” Zanna closed her eyes, wondering if she dared finish the sentence. “I haven’t felt so dizzy—so crazy—since you took me for that ride on your Harley, back in July.”

Jonny caught her gaze and held it. “Hear me out, will you? I haven’t had much practice at apologizing.” He crammed his stocking cap farther down over his ears, gathering his courage. “It was exactly the wrong thing to do, walking out on you at the hospital last week. Just like it was a bad idea to talk like I’d rather get rid of the baby than have it.”