Rosemary Opens Her Heart: Home at Cedar Creek, Book Two

by Naomi King

  “I suspect you’re right about that, Abby.” He looked up from his work. “Mamm was one for fussing at Zanna and pointing out her faults, yet she and Dat were excited about having some grandchildren right here at home, too. They don’t get to see Iva and Sharon’s kids much, what with them living on the other side of Queen City.”

  Once again Abby was reminded of the repercussions of Zanna’s walking away from her marriage into the Graber family. She also told herself not to get her hopes up after years of wishing this fine man would notice her, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying every moment she spent with him.

  “Looks like the mailman just pulled away,” James said as he glanced out the window. “I’ll be right back. It’s Saturday, and Dat likes to look at the Budget as soon as it arrives. He reads your piece first, you know.”

  As Cedar Creek’s scribe for the national Plain newspaper, Abby wrote a weekly report of the local goings-on, usually with a few reflections on them. “Take your time, James. Tell your folks hello for me.”

  “I’ll do that. Kind of you to think of them.” James put on his straw hat and strode out toward the road.

  As Abby went around to the other side of the carriage to work, she glanced outside. James stood at the mailbox, thumbing through the mail: his broad shoulders were accentuated by the suspenders that crisscrossed the back of his shirt…a shirt she had sewn because Emma kept so busy with housework and looking after their parents that James had chosen to pay Abby to make his family’s clothes. He opened a large white envelope. As he was reading, his expression suggested news of a totally unexpected nature. He looked toward the shop as though he were gazing right at her and flashed a dazzling smile.

  “Here’s your mail, Dat,” he called as he jogged toward his family’s front porch. “I’ll be in after Abby and I finish this carriage. Won’t be but a few minutes.”

  Merle leaned out over the porch railing to take the paper from his son. “If it were me and I had a perty young woman in my shop, I’d not be in any hurry to come home,” he teased. “Go out and have a gut time, son. You know how it goes on a Saturday night—your mamm’ll be readin’ me reports and recipes from the Budget whether I wanna hear them or not.”

  Abby arranged a few more beads on the carriage door, thinking most folks around town would also be reading the Budget tonight…although she could imagine Eunice’s reedy voice getting louder and more piercing as the evening wore on, to keep Merle from nodding off in his recliner.

  When James hurried back into the shop, his eyes were wide. “What do you make of this?” he asked in an excited voice. “You remember that white princess carriage I made last fall?”

  “The one where I sewed the beads on the seat cushion? Jah, that was a mighty pretty coach—and there it is!” She pointed to the magazine page he was waving, and he held it still enough for her to read. “‘In Praise of Plain Craftsmanship.’ Now, isn’t that a fine title? And it looks like you had quite a princess riding in your coach, too.”

  “Jah, I’m not sure what all being Miss America means,” he said in a rush, “but when she heard that an Amish fellow had made the carriage she rode in a Disney World parade, she really talked it up. So here it is—my carriage—in a magazine, no less! Although,” he added, “I’m sounding mighty proud of my work now. And that’s not so gut.”

  Abby gazed at the photograph, which featured the open white carriage in semidarkness, with its canopy grid of sparkly white lights. A young woman stood alongside the impressive Clydesdale it was hitched to. Her hair was swept up and she was wearing a sequined dress of morning-glory blue. The banner draped from her shoulder read MISS AMERICA.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a job well done, James,” she reminded him. “And the article doesn’t single you out so much as it draws attention to the craftsmanship we Amish believe in. When you consider all the cars and computers and other fancy items manufactured in English factories,” she went on in a thoughtful tone, “isn’t it nice that those same folks recognize the careful work Plain people do with their hands, in shops that sit right alongside their homes?”

  James blinked. “Jah, it is. And denki for the way you pointed that out, Abby. You have such a talent for making folks feel gut about what they do and who they are.”

  Her face went hot. Abby focused on placing the last green beads around the edge of the bright design. “You say the nicest things, James.”

  It didn’t take her long to finish the insets. Meanwhile, James was inserting huge green and purple feathers into short pipes he’d welded along the sides of the Mardi Gras masks that decorated both ends of the carriage. Abby studied the front mask when he finished it. “I can’t figure out what all of this means, or why folks would want such a gaudy carriage, but…well, I guess it takes all kinds.”

  James looked up from inserting the last feather. “You’re not backing out of our ride, I hope?”

  “No, no. We have to maintain that quality craftsmanship the magazine article talked about, don’t we?” she teased. As Abby dropped the leftover beads back into their box, she felt giddy yet almost shy. “I’ll go pack our picnic now. See you whenever you’re ready.”

  “Give me about half an hour to check on the folks and clean up.”

  Was it her imagination, or did James look every bit as excited as she was? Did he consider this a first date, or was that wishful thinking on her part? Abby decided to stop analyzing so she could enjoy the evening’s ride, no matter what they called it. After all, a dream she’d clung to for the past several years was about to come true.

  As James hitched Mitch, his bay gelding, to the finished Mardi Gras carriage, his hands trembled. That hadn’t happened since early in his courtship with Zanna, yet this date with her older sister gave him an entirely different feeling. While Abby’s personal life wasn’t an open book, James had no doubt about the woman he was riding with this evening. He knew of no one he respected more. While Bishop Vernon Gingerich and the preachers Paul Bontrager and Abe Nissley were esteemed leaders of the Plain community hereabouts, Abby had a kindness and a decency that he also admired greatly. He had always liked Abby a lot—had always appreciated her bright mind and her sunny disposition.

  So why didn’t Abby’s finer traits seem relevant while you were courting her sister? Too carried away by Zanna’s pretty face and blond hair? Her carefree giggle…and her kisses?

  Would he kiss Abby tonight? James gazed across the road toward the small white house that sat a ways up Lambright Lane. What if he did kiss her and she wasn’t ready for that? Or what if she didn’t like the way he kissed? Or what if he didn’t kiss her and then felt her disappointment stabbing him in the back as he started for home?

  He’d forgotten how jittery first dates could be—and who would’ve thought an evening with Abby Lambright would make him nervous? James laughed at himself and vaulted into the seat of the colorful carriage. It wasn’t dark yet. He wanted to save the best surprises for later, so he didn’t flip any of the switches on the dashboard panel.

  “Geddap, Mitch,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Down Lambright Lane his horse trotted, and as he passed Sam’s farmhouse he waved at the folks who were peering out the kitchen door. Abby stepped off her narrow front porch, holding a picnic hamper, gazing at the carriage and then at him. He hopped down, placed the basket on the floor behind the seat, and then gave Abby his hand as she ascended the wrought-iron steps. She had changed into a magenta dress and her freshly pressed kapp set off a face he’d known all his life and yet…she looked like someone he’d never met but certainly wanted to.

  “Ready?” he whispered.

  “Jah.” She looked at the open carriage’s unlit canopy made of tiny light bulbs, running her hand over the rich red leather seat. “Who would ever have thought I’d be riding in such a flashy vehicle—and seated beside a man whose work was featured in a magazine, no less?”

  James clapped the reins against the bay’s back. “We haven’t yet begun
to flash,” he teased. “The carriage has headlights and taillights to be legal, but there’ll be no danger of anyone running into us tonight. We’ll be lit up like a carnival ride.”

  As he again passed the Lambright house, James felt like a teenager on his first date: Sam, Barbara, their four kids, and Treva had all come out onto the front porch and were gawking at them. “That’s my sister with you, Graber,” Sam called as he waved at them. “Behave yourselves, hear me?”

  “When do the lights come on?” Ruthie asked.

  “Owen and I will be out later, watching for a carriage lit up like a circus,” Phoebe called out. “We’ll be able to see every single thing you’re doing, you know!”

  Abby’s face turned pink. “You’d think I was sixteen, just entering my rumspringa,” she murmured.

  James checked for traffic at the end of the lane and then said, “Gee!” The horse turned right and trotted smartly past the phone shanty, the Cedar Creek Mercantile, and Treva’s Greenhouse. He relaxed then, looking over at her. “Truth be told, I’m happy you’re not sixteen. We’ve both made something of ourselves, but we’ve also become involved in our community and committed to our faith—and to our families—in ways kids just out of school have no idea about.”

  “Jah, we have. But I’d like to think you and I can be comfortable talking about what we need…what matters most to us,” Abby replied. “And I hope we’ll still be gut friends if it turns out we’ve got different priorities.”

  “I’m with you there, but this seems like awfully serious talk for a first date. How about if we just cut loose and have some fun?”

  “I thought you’d never get to that part!” Her brown eyes sparkled. “Do you remember that sleigh ride years ago, when we raced the Ropp brothers across Sam’s pasture? I want to go that fast again—except this time, no one will turn over, all right?”

  James clapped the reins lightly on his horse’s back. “It wasn’t my fault Jonny dumped himself and Gideon on that snowy hillside,” he reminded her. “But it was you telling me to go faster and faster. When we reach the next straightaway, I’ll give Mitch his head. I have to see how the carriage handles under all kinds of conditions, after all. At the very least it has to keep up with a spirited horse.”

  Abby’s mischievous grin made his insides flutter, and—as had happened on that wintry day when Jonny Ropp had dared him to race—James delighted in her challenge for more speed. When he saw there were no cars on the road, he urged Mitch into a faster trot…a canter…a gallop. With one hand Abby held the strings of her kapp to keep it from flying off as she gripped the seat with the other. She was leaning into the wind, her face alight with a giddy happiness that James hoped he could put there again and again. He dropped his hat to the floor, relishing the sense of freedom he always felt when his favorite horse and his latest carriage went flying down the highway as one.

  For about half a mile they clattered down the blacktop, until the distinctive stone silo on Vernon Gingerich’s corner marked the intersection where he wanted to turn. He eased Mitch back to normal road speed. “Still got stomach enough to enjoy our picnic?” he teased as they headed west onto the gravel road. “I’ve got a spot in mind alongside Cedar Creek, where the redbuds are at their peak.”

  “Puh! You think that little run scared me?” Abby elbowed him playfully. “I loved riding the Tilt-a-Whirl and the roller coaster at the county fair when we were kids, you know.”

  James recalled those carnival rides and suddenly felt the same swooping surge of speed and force, as though his stomach had leaped off a cliff. It had been years since those rare summer nights when their parents had bought them cotton candy and tokens for the rides, before their dats had watched the livestock judging and their mamms had fingered the quilts and looked at the vegetables entered for prizes. But indeed, he recalled Abby Lambright’s face all aglow—the way she’d laughed hysterically, carried away by the exhilaration of the fastest rides and the scariest roller coasters on the midway.

  “Maybe I should ask if you can endure a peaceful meal beside the creek,” he said. “I don’t want to bore you, after all.”

  As he pulled the carriage into a clearing, Abby smiled. “I can’t recall a single moment when I felt bored while I was with you, James.”

  Wasn’t it just like her to say that? As James helped her down from the carriage, he realized yet again that while she loved a fast ride, Abby was the embodiment of Plain womanhood—simple and kind and caring…not to mention a fine cook. After they bowed for a silent grace, they feasted on ham and coleslaw, with fresh bread and glazed carrots kept warm in a crockery bowl. As they sat on the old quilt she’d spread on the creek bank, with the sunset peeking between the cedars and the redbud trees, James couldn’t recall enjoying a meal so much. It was a far cry from hearing his mamm fuss at Dat for dribbling gravy on his shirt while watching Emma grow weary after another day of caring for them. Little pink petals from the redbuds drifted on the wind, landing on Abby’s kapp and her cape dress like confetti from heaven.

  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.”