Wonderful Lonesome (26 page)

Abbie’s eyes widened as she forced down the knot in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Rudy. How awful for you.”

“I thought you would want to know before you came over with bread and wondered where he was.” Rudy sat astride his horse in the Weaver barnyard looking as dismal as Abbie had ever seen him.

Abbie nodded. She would have wondered. The dog consistently greeted her, and she reciprocated by scratching under his chin.

“Rudy,” she said, “I have something to tell you as well. Little Abe Miller went missing last night.”

His eyes widened.

“He’s all right. He wandered off while Mary worked in the garden, but we found him after a few hours.”

“God be praised.”

“Yes. God is good. We all worry about our animals because we know what a coyote can do. But I can’t help wondering what would have happened if that coyote had found a helpless child instead of your dog.”

“The human scent would have turned the beast away.”

“Would it? The coyotes seem to come closer and closer.”

“Perhaps it is best if you do not mention my dog to anyone.” Rudy wrapped the reins around his hand. “No point in putting a distressful notion in people’s minds. But I hope Mary Miller will keep her boy close.”

A meal?”

Millie Nissley looked up from the beans in her garden. She had been more ambitious than most in what she planted, but it seemed to Abbie that her yield was as halfhearted as anyone else’s vegetable patch. At mid-September, most gardens had finished for the season and Amish women were already canning.

“Nothing fancy,” Abbie said. “Mary Miller and I would love to have everyone together to share our gratitude to God for Little Abe’s safety.” As she had already four times that morning, Abbie told an abbreviated version of the drama of Little Abe’s rescue and was careful to give thanks to God for answered prayer.

“All of the families?” Millie looked dubious.

“I will invite everyone. Wouldn’t it be lovely if everyone came? It would almost be like having church.”

“We have no one to preach.” Millie dropped a handful of beans into a basket.

“I know.” Abbie was undeterred. “We can still sing and pray and be grateful.”

“It’s been a hard summer to think about being grateful.”

Abbie nodded. “But Little Abe is safe. That matters more than anything else that has happened.”

“What about food?”

“We have plenty of potatoes to roast and share. A couple of families have said they can spare a meat chicken or two. The Mullet sons have returned from Ordway with fruit. I made extra bread yesterday. Everyone will share as they are able.”

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

“Come at suppertime.” Abbie stepped away from the garden and toward the buggy she had parked a few yards away. “We still have some light in the evenings.”

Millie nodded without promising the family’s attendance. As Abbie climbed into the buggy, she reviewed her mental list. She had visited five farms, and of course Mary and Esther knew the plans already. With the Chupps gone, that left Rudy, Willem, Martin Samuels, and the Troyers. She glanced at the sun approaching its zenith and judged that she still had time to talk to Mrs. Troyer, make her bread rounds, and clean Willem’s house before it was time to start the potatoes roasting.

Willem sank into a chair as Abbie readied her cleaning supplies. “What awful news about Rudy’s dog.”

“I hope I didn’t sound unsympathetic when he told me.” Abbie dampened a rag. “All I could think about was, what if it had been Little Abe?”

“But it wasn’t.”

“But it could have been.”

“You must not let your mind dwell there,” Willem said.

Abbie shrugged. “I’m trying not to. I’m trying to be grateful. In fact, Mary asked me to invite everyone for a meal tonight. She and Albert want to give thanks for Little Abe’s safety by being with all the families.”

“Everyone?”

Abbie began to wipe off the stove. “I drove around half of creation this morning making sure everyone is invited. I hope they will come.” She paused to look at him. “I hope you will come.”

Willem wiped crumbs from the table and into one hand but then was not sure what to do with them. “It is a good thing to be grateful.”

“It will be almost like having a church service. We might have to sit on the ground, but we can be together. We can pray. We will share our food, just like we used to do after church. We can even sing our hymns. It will cheer everyone’s hearts to hear the harmonies and ponder the words of God’s greatness.”

When she put it so simply, Willem could hardly argue. He often hummed from the
Ausbund
as he worked, and his ears ached to hear surrounding voices fill in melody and harmonies. The gathering itself was not what caused him to hesitate. Rather, it was that the common meal would feed Abbie’s hope for a true Amish church when the likelihood had become all but impossible. And Willem’s presence, in particular, might stir a hope that they once again were of one heart.

Abbie rinsed out the rag and started on the table, scrubbing in preparation for polishing. As rugged as his table was, she was persistent in coaxing out the best sheen it could offer. She wanted to wheedle the best out of everything. It was one of the reasons he loved her, but every day brought reasons to reconcile reality with hope. The table would never be what she wanted it to be, and neither would the church.

Willem stood up and dropped the crumbs in his hand into the slop bucket that would go to the chickens.

Abbie stopped scrubbing and turned her pleading brown eyes to him. “Please come.”

Willem gave a one-sided smile, still unable to resist that expression even when he knew their future was in doubt. “A man has to eat.”

With her unfolding fingers buried in the yardage of her dress, Ruthanna ticked off the weeks. She had only seen the doctor in Limon once, preferring to let Esther Weaver monitor her pregnancy. As long as there were no unusual symptoms, Esther said, Ruthanna had no reason not to expect a healthy delivery. The child turned and kicked and rested at intervals that assured Ruthanna all was well. By her best count, she had six more weeks.

At least the sun was not quite as scorching as it had been a few weeks ago. While the days still elongated in summer fashion, the height of the afternoon temperatures dropped a degree or two each day. Still, it was hot, and Ruthanna was tired of being hot, tired of lumbering around in a body that was less recognizable by the day, tired of not sleeping because she could not find a comfortable position, tired of fearing her restlessness would disturb Eber.

Abbie made sure Ruthanna had a chair and a plate of food. Two or three families had loaded benches into their buggies and arrived ready to share seating. Several of the families did not see each other often, and the shared meal on the Miller farm sparked conversation to catch up on family news while children and young people relished being with people their own age.

Not everyone came, though, and Ruthanna saw the disappointment written on Abbie’s face.

“I notice that the Yutzys have not come.” Millie Nissley glanced around as she settled on the bench next to Abbie. “I didn’t think they would.”

“Why shouldn’t they?” Abbie’s voice carried a note of stubbornness Ruthanna knew well. “Perhaps they are simply delayed.”

“I don’t think we’ll see too much more of them.” Mrs. Nissley pushed a fork through a potato.

“Why would you say that?” Abbie demanded.

“Amelia Yutzy never wanted to come in the first place. Her children are not much older than Little Abe. She worries about them night and day out in this wilderness.”

“It’s not really a wilderness,” Ruthanna offered. “We’re all still getting our feet under us. Even farming in Ohio is not without challenges.”

Mrs. Nissley swallowed a bite and stabbed another. “She wants to go home. I think her husband is going to agree very soon.”

Ruthanna flicked her eyes toward Abbie, who paled just as Ruthanna expected.

“I think perhaps I should be going.” Ruthanna balanced her plate in one hand and stood up.

“But you hardly touched your food,” Abbie said, “and we haven’t started singing yet.”

“I know. But I don’t like leaving Eber.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t feel well enough to come. I’ll fix a plate of food for you to take him and get Reuben to drive you home. I don’t want Eber to feel left out.”

Ruthanna nodded, grateful for the detail of Abbie’s ministrations. For now it was easiest to let others think Eber was simply tired and that a woman in her condition would be more comfortable at home.

Abbie waved good-bye to Ruthanna as Reuben pulled the Weaver buggy away from the other buggies and wagons lined up along the fence. She wanted to hold this vision as long as she could. They could have gathered like this long ago, buggies and horses announcing they were one body and children’s voices lifting toward a future when every other Sunday morning would bring the families together. There was no reason to wait for a crisis like Monday night before being grateful and enjoying true Christian fellowship.

Esther and Mary were collecting plates to carry into the house to wash. Albert sat on a bench, leaning forward on his knees watching his son play in the dirt. Abbie spied Daniel pairing off with Lizzie Mullet to stroll outside the circle.

Abbie sat in the empty spot between Willem and Rudy on a bench. She nudged each of them with one elbow. “In church one of the men always starts the singing. It wouldn’t be proper for me to do it.”

Rudy gestured that Willem should begin, and Willem deferred to Rudy.

Abbie exhaled. “I know it shows humility when the men suggest another should go first, but please, you both have beautiful voices, so couldn’t one of you just start singing?”

Willem cleared his throat. He had only sung a few bars when Rudy joined. The swell of eager voices rolled over the gathering in cool refreshment. Even after all this time without regular church services, the words welled with confidence. Abbie joined, though the knot of gratitude in her throat produced a scratchy sound. Around her the harmonies fell into place.

Where shall I go? I am so ignorant. Only to God can I go, becauseGod alone will be my helper. I trust in You, God, in all my distress. You will not forsake me. You will stand with me, even in death. I have committed myself to Your Word. That is why I have lost favor in all places. By losing the world’s favor, I gained Yours. Therefore I say to the world: Away with you! I will follow Christ
.