Rosemary Opens Her Heart: Home at Cedar Creek, Book Two (15 page)

James bit into his first fried pie. As the creamy sweetness of lemon filling and crushed
pineapple spread across his tongue, James moaned with the sheer pleasure of it.

“Are you all right?” she asked

James grabbed her hand. “Abby, this fried pie is wonderful-gut. I’d thank Sam for
demanding his favorite filling, except I’m glad he’s not here.”

Her cheeks flushed. “We make fried pies a lot, you know. They’re nothing special.”

“They’re special because I’m eating them with
you
, Abby.”

Her awestruck expression made him pause. Had he said too much? Led her to expect more
than he was ready to give?
What wouldn’t you share with Abby? Where will you ever find another woman like her?

James took another bite of the tart-sweet pie. He realized then what was making him
antsy: such romantic thoughts brought back his dates with Zanna. He’d been so eager
to say how much she appealed to him…so quick to admit how crazy in love he was with
her. He had believed Zanna was the woman God meant for him to spend his life with,
and he had been so wrong—and then so disappointed.

Abby squeezed his hand. “This picnic and our ride in your new carriage is the most
fun I’ve had in a gut long while. Let’s enjoy them for what they are without complicating
everything with words.”

James paused, his final bite of pie poised at his mouth. “Denki for saying that. You
somehow anticipate when I’m about to make a mess of things.”

Her smile released the tension that had tightened his stomach.
Then she shrugged. “I’m pretty gut at telling fellows to put on the brakes. Which
explains why I’m a maidel, ain’t so?”

“
No
,” he insisted. “It means you know what your heart needs, and you won’t settle for
less.” James held her gaze, wishing relationships weren’t so complicated. “I’m glad
you told those other fellows how you felt, Abby. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here
with you now…having more fun than
I’ve
had in a long time.”

Abby took a big bite out of a fried pie, cupping her hand to catch the cherry filling
that gushed out. “See? You’re not the only one making a mess. It’s gut we understand
that about each other—and gut we can laugh about it, too. Most folks don’t laugh nearly
enough, in my opinion.”

Wasn’t that an astute observation? As they packed away their plates and the leftovers,
James again realized how lucky—how blessed—he was to have Abby as a friend. Twilight
was falling, and as James placed the picnic basket back in the carriage, Abby wrapped
a pale gray shawl around her shoulders.

“Stand right here in front, where you’ll get a gut look at all the lights,” he said
as he sprang up into the seat. “If any of the bulbs don’t work, or the lights don’t
flash in patterns like they’re supposed to, I’ll need you to point out what should
be fixed when we get back. Ready?”

Abby nodded.

One by one, James flipped the switches, which were powered by a car battery tucked
beneath the seat. The Mardi Gras mask on the front of the carriage flashed on and
its different sections began to flicker. Then the lights that formed the border started
racing clockwise for a few moments before reversing direction.

“Oh, James! Oh, my stars!” Abby stood with her hands framing her face and her mouth
open, while her eyes tried to follow the swirling patterns of the green, purple, and
gold lights. “As far as I can tell, all the bulbs are working. They’re flashing so
fast—”

James turned a dial backward to adjust the speed, reveling in
Abby’s reaction. He’d tested these lights in his shop last night, but it was a lot
more fun to show them off for an appreciative audience.

“Jah, that’s better.” She leaned forward for a closer look. “The patterns are repeating
now. It’s a wonder Mitch isn’t stomping, ready to race off. He’s not used to so much
flickering and flashing.”

“He’s a retired racehorse, remember. He had to handle all sorts of noises and flashing
signs at the track.” James moved his hand to a different control button. “Now let’s
check the lights in back.”

Abby hurried to the rear of the open carriage and grinned like a kid when those bright
lights came on, as well. “Looks like they all work back here, too. I’ll get up into
the seat— Oh, my stars!” she gasped when he flipped the final switch. “Would you look
at that? So many twinkly lights, like a fairy cage made of green and gold stars above
where the passengers will ride!”

“And would you like to ride there, Abby? Like a Mardi Gras queen?” James swiveled
in the driver’s seat to catch her reaction.

Abby didn’t have to be asked twice: she was already springing up the wrought-iron
steps and into a red leather seat behind him. She perched on its edge, gazing at the
shimmering grid of lights above her, as rapt as a child. “Who needs a fancy parade,
James? I have you to drive me, and we couldn’t ask for a nicer night. But don’t leave
me back here too long,” she added playfully. “The whole point of a date is to spend
time
together
, after all.”

As Mitch’s hooves clip-clopped down the highway, James smiled in the darkness. The
carriage was performing beautifully, the air was sweet with spring, and Abby Lambright
was sharing her happiness with him. Nothing could be better.

A
s she waited in the line of women who were filing into Ezra and Lois Yutzy’s large
home for the Sunday-morning preaching, Abby couldn’t keep a grin from her face. This
was the time for folks to prepare their hearts and minds for worship, yet her evening
with James flashed through her mind. What a time they had enjoyed, rolling along the
roads in that bright, sparkling carriage.

After James had turned off all those green, gold, and purple lights, she’d sat beside
him again as they toured the countryside around Cedar Creek. They had both noticed
fluttering curtains and faces at an upstairs window while the horse trotted past Sam’s
place, a sure sign that Gail and Ruthie were watching as James set the brake in front
of Abby’s small house and then came up on the porch with her. She’d felt like a teenage
girl wondering if he would kiss her…A kiss would have been a sure sign that he finally
saw her as a woman he might like to court seriously.

Instead, James had honored her wishes to keep things between them uncomplicated: he
had grasped her hands between his big, strong ones and gazed deeply into her eyes.
“It was a wonderful-gut evening, Abby,” he had whispered. “And I want our first kiss
to be
something only you and I share—without an audience, jah?” So Abby had nodded and squeezed
his hands, content to wait.

This morning, as the women filed slowly into the kitchen side of Ezra and Lois’s home
while the men entered from the front door, folks seemed to be taking extra time greeting
Bishop Gingerich and the preachers. Then a rapid-fire
clip-clop! clip-clop!
came down the road and a carriage rumbled along the Yutzys’ lane. Salome Bontrager,
Perry’s wife, climbed down into the driveway rather than parking alongside the other
carriages.

“What’s going on?” Eva Detweiler whispered in front of Abby. “Salome’s face is all
puffy and red from crying.”

“Did I hear somebody in the kitchen asking where Paul was?” Hannah Hartzler wondered
aloud. “He’s usually the first of the preachers to arrive, no matter where the service
is held.”

Abby stepped out of the line to meet Salome in the yard. Salome had moved to Cedar
Creek from a district on the other side of Clearwater when she married Perry, and
now she was pregnant with their third child. She and Perry had been living with her
father-in-law, Paul, these past few years to help him keep up with his farm after
his wife died.

“Salome, what’s going on?” Abby whispered as they clasped hands.

“It’s Perry’s dat,” she replied in a shaking voice. “We thought he’d gone ahead to
church, like he always does—gets himself mentally ready and prays real early, in case
he gets picked to preach, you know. But he was still in bed. He—he passed on in his
sleep, he did, and I’ve got to let Vernon know.”

“Oh, Salome, I’m so sorry.” Paul Bontrager had lived across the road from Abby’s family
since long before she was born. “Would you like me to tell the bishop what’s happened?”

“Jah, denki so much, Abby. Perry’s more upset than he’ll let on. His dat had seemed
to be doing so gut lately, rolling along toward
his ninetieth birthday, and—” Salome sniffled loudly and swiped at her wet face. “Well,
I guess we never know when the Lord’s going to call us home. It’s a comfort that he
went in his sleep, with a smile on his face like he was already seeing the glory that
awaited him.”

“How could it be any other way?” Abby assured her. “He was a gut man and a faithful
servant. You give Perry our best. After the common meal, Mamm and I will be over to
help. If you’d like me to sew Paul’s white burial clothes, I’d be happy to.”

“Oh, Abby, what would we do without our gut friends? Jah, that would be a gift to
me and a fine send-off for Perry’s dat.”

As Salome hurried back to the carriage, everyone in the lines was watching Abby for
word of what had happened. First, however, Bishop Gingerich needed to be informed
so he and Preacher Abe Nissley and their deacon, Pete Beachey, would know how to proceed
with the service. “Excuse me,” she whispered to the curious women in the doorway.
“I’ve heard some news I need to share with Vernon.”

Abby passed through the kitchen, which was crowded with women waiting to be seated.
The table and the counter space were covered with loaves of bread and pies for the
meal they would eat after the church service. Vernon and Abe stood at the doorway
to greet folks as they filed into the front room, which had been expanded by removing
wall partitions. Rows of wooden pews faced a center area where the preachers sat and
spoke.

“If I could have a word, Vernon,” Abby murmured. Because he was stooped, he didn’t
stand quite as tall as she did, but his piercing blue eyes told of an alert mind despite
his age. When he stepped away from the crowd, Abby drew a deep breath. “Salome Bontrager
just told me that Preacher Paul has passed on in his sleep,” she said near his ear.
“Perry’s taking it pretty hard, so Salome went back home. I told her we’d be there
right after the meal to divvy up the chores and help with the funeral details.”

“Oh my.” Vernon’s eyes misted over. He grasped Abby’s hand,
pausing to deal with an emotional moment. “Denki, Abby. Abe and Pete and I will talk
this over upstairs, during the first hymn. But we’ll let folks know before the service
so they can pray on it.”

Abby walked past the older women in line to resume her spot between Eva Detweiler
and Emma Graber, who took her elbow.

“Preacher Paul has died?” her best friend whispered.

“Went peacefully in his sleep. And that’s about the best any of us can hope for,”
she murmured. “To meet Jesus in our dreams and leave our body behind, without hospital
beds or lingering sickness or being an extra worry to our families.”

Emma nodded sadly. “Dat’s not going to take this well. He and Paul were such gut friends,
and even closer after his wife, Edna, passed. They went fishing at that pond in back
of Paul’s pasture. Now I doubt Mamm’ll let him go there anymore, what with Paul not
around to watch after him.”

As they got to the doorway, they heard Vernon announcing Paul’s passing to those who
were already seated. Abby wasn’t surprised to see Sam, James, and Adah Ropp—neighbors
who lived closest to the Bontrager place—immediately clustering around the bishop
to confer with him.

The news spread quickly down the line of women waiting outside, too. As Abby entered
the kitchen and then the front room with her friends, the familiar faces around them
were shadowed by the news about Paul. After everyone was seated, they shared a moment
of silence. One of the men sang the first note of the first hymn, and as the rest
of them joined in, the preachers entered the crowded room and removed their hats in
one sweeping motion. At the beginning of the third line of the song, the three leaders
retired to an upstairs bedroom to confer about the service and decide who would preach
the first sermon and the main sermon that morning.

Although a cloud hovered over them all during the service—Vernon’s sermon, Pete Beachey’s
reading of the day’s Scripture, and then Abe Nissley’s longer main sermon—their worship
proceeded at
its usual unhurried pace. After the closing hymn, Bishop Gingerich announced a short
Members’ Meeting.

“Paul Bontrager has left our earthly congregation to join the heavenly bands who praise
God in eternity,” Vernon began in his mellow voice. “The Lambrights, the Grabers,
and the Ropps have assured me they will see to the immediate needs of the Bontrager
family by preparing meals and caring for the livestock there. Sam and his mother have
offered to host the funeral and the lunch in their barn and greenhouse, while Matt
and James Graber will take charge of the parking,” the bishop continued, turning to
address both sides of the room. “Adah and Rudy Ropp will see that distant kin of the
Bontragers are notified, and Beulah Mae Nissley will coordinate the meal after the
funeral.”