by Naomi King
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.
Chapter 11
As 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.”
Standing beside him, Preacher Abe Nissley nodded solemnly. “At such times as these, we’re truly gra
teful to be a close-knit community bound by God’s love and compassion. We’ll hold the service on Thursday morning, to allow time for the burial preparations. I’m sure we’ll all visit about this during today’s common meal and see that Paul’s family is well cared for.”
“Such a loss necessitates the selecting of a new preacher, too,” Vernon added, gazing purposefully at the rows of men seated nearest him. “I ask you to prayerfully consider the married men among us and have your suggestions ready for the preaching service four weeks from today, on May twenty-first.”
The meeting ended, and as Abby entered the kitchen to help carry food, the women were abuzz. Vernon Gingerich, Paul Bontrager, and Abe Nissley had all served the Cedar Creek district for more than twenty-five years, so the younger folks among them couldn’t recall when anyone else had been a minister, and they had never witnessed the drawing of the lot. While serving the Lord and the Plain community was an honorable role, it involved giving many selfless hours without pay, for the remainder of a preacher’s life.
“I sure hope my Mervin’s not called to serve,” Bessie Mast fretted as she cut a chocolate cake. “He’s getting so he can barely keep up with the farm.”
“Jah, preaching doesn’t come easy to some fellows, either,” Nell Coblentz remarked. “I can’t see my Amos standing in front of everybody like he knows what he’s talking about. He was born to be a carpenter, for sure and for certain.”
“Could be the lot’ll fall to a younger fellow,” Lois Yutzy speculated as she took platters of sandwiches from her refrigerator. “We have a promising crop of men married only a few years. But we’ve watched them grow up here, and we’ve trusted them all along.”
“Jah, like Mose Hartzler or Carl Byler, neither of them thirty yet,” Adah Ropp said in a thoughtful tone. “My Jonny’s married now, but I don’t expect anybody considers him ready to take on the ministry, considering how he drove cars and lived amongst English before he hitched up with Zanna.”
Laughter rippled among the women—except for Hannah Hartzler and Marian Byler. Neither woman relished the thought of her husband being called away from his businesses or his young family. Mose Hartzler was a chimney sweep and owned a thriving orchard, while Carl Byler did a lot of custom farming for elderly men who couldn’t handle the heavy labor and equipment any longer.
“There’s Zeke Detweiler, too,” Eunice Graber remarked as she repositioned her thick eyeglasses. “And we can’t none of us forget how Sam Lambright handled all the trials and tribulations of Zanna running off and leaving my boy, James—and how he stopped us all from squabbling at each other, too. Fine man, Sam is.”
Abby smiled to herself. It was easy for women like Adah and Eunice to recommend fellows from other families when it was unlikely their husbands or sons would be up for consideration. She glanced across the kitchen at Barbara, who raised her eyebrows in concern. Everyone in the Lambright family—indeed, everyone in town—knew about the long hours Sam devoted to running the Cedar Creek Mercantile.
“While we believe preachers are nominated for service by the people and chosen by God himself,” Sam’s wife said quietly, “I wouldn’t want to think about my husband spending his time and energy on being a minister while he’s keeping up with the store. He’ll collapse, because he’ll not take time for any sleep.”
The women scattered then, carrying bowls of slaw and cut pies to the tables, which the men had set up in the front room. As they moved in and out of the kitchen, however, their talk continued. “Too bad James Graber’s not married,” Lois Yutzy remarked. “Now, there’s a fellow who knows how to deal with disappointment and how to forgive. Fine man, James is.”
“And there’s your Ezra, too, Lois,” Eunice Graber piped up again. “He’s built up his pallet-making business enough that he’s hired a lot of local fellows to keep it running. A gut, steady man who starts a job and sees it through, Ezra is.”
Abby carried a platter of her fried pies to the front room. In the coming weeks, folks would spend a lot of time speculating about the new preacher—as well they should. Preacher Paul had been one of their spiritual leaders for nearly half his life, and suggesting a handful of men worthy of replacing him, even though God made the final choice, was one of the most serious responsibilities their district had faced in many years.
As the older members sat down to eat for the first shift, their conversations were mostly about Paul and recollections of times each of them had spent with him, or his more memorable sermons. Many of these folks had kitchen cabinets, built-in bookcases, and other carpentry projects that Paul had built for them over the years, and he was mentioned with a lot of fondness and laughter.
And wasn’t it a fine thing, the way plans had fallen into place before all of Abby’s fried pies had disappeared during the second shift? Beulah Mae Nissley arranged for several of the women to provide side dishes for the funeral lunch. Barbara and her three daughters planned to meet Adah Ropp and her two girls at the Bontrager place to help Salome clean in preparation for the visitation, which would be held at Paul’s house all day on Wednesday. Sam had men coming to set up tables in Treva’s Greenhouse, as they had done for Zanna’s wedding, and to clear out the largest room of the barn and bring in the pew benches for the large crowd they expected.
Abby glanced around the noisy front room in Lois’s home, grateful she lived among such faithful friends. Everyone would take part in bidding Paul Bontrager farewell, including the young folks. Phoebe, Gail, and Ruthie were nodding earnestly as they talked with Emma and the Ropp girls, and Matt—
Abby stopped eating to watch her nephew. Matt had a curious smile on his face. He was seated near Owen and Noah Coblentz and the Ropp brothers, as he usually was for these meals, yet he appeared to be lost in thought while the other young men visited around him. And wasn’t that interesting?
Chapter 12
Matt filled the bucket feeder and watched his orphaned lambs suck milk from the oversized nipples, but his mind was on another subject altogether. All during the common meal he had itched to get home and call Titus Yutzy. Wouldn’t it be something if now that his father had died, Perry Bontrager didn’t want to keep all of their pastureland? It wasn’t his place—or the proper time—to ask Perry such a question, of course. But all sorts of possibilities had crossed Matt’s mind while his friends had been discussing which girls they wanted to drive home after tonight’s singing.
As he left the barn, Matt corralled his thoughts. While he intended to call and leave a message for Titus, wasn’t it possible that Rosemary might answer the phone? He was still disappointed that he wouldn’t be delivering rams to the Yutzy place, because he had no idea how their property was laid out. How far was the phone shanty from the house? Had Titus installed an extension in the barn? Some Amish farmers did that, especially if they lived too far from neighbors to make sharing a phone practical.
He slipped inside the small white shanty located at the roadside in front of the Cedar Creek Mercantile, directly across from James’s carriage shop. His eyes widened: the red ten lit up on the phone meant that either his family or the Grabers had received a lot of calls this weekend. Amish folks all over the Midwest were just getting home from preaching services and the common meals that followed, so it was unlikely that Plain callers had left so many messages in the last few hours.
He itched to play the recordings, but instead he called Titus. With Rosemary’s smile in mind, Matt dialed the number and waited for the beep after the recorded announcement. “Jah, Titus, it’s Matt Lambright from over in Cedar Creek,” he said. “I thought you’d want to know that Preacher Paul Bontrager passed on in his sleep last night. The funeral’s to be on Thursday,” he began earnestly. “I mostly thought—since his place sits across the road from ours—that you might want to see how Perry feels about letting you have some pastureland. What with him being the only son and working full-time for James Graber, he might consider a rental agreement if he doesn’t want to sell.”
Matt paused, hopin
g he hadn’t overstepped by passing along this news. Upsetting Perry was not his intention. After all, if someone were to ask him about selling off a parcel of Lambright property, he would refuse immediately. “You wanted to know about property availability hereabouts, so there you have it,” he continued. “I hope you and your family have had a gut Sunday. Bye now.”
His pulse thrummed. It seemed that opportunity might be knocking, and pretty loudly, too. As much as Titus’s mood had lifted after the wedding, when they’d talked of sharing some labor and business expenses, Matt felt as if he might be offering Ezra’s brother a chance to return to his boyhood home…maybe giving him a whole new lease on life.
Curiosity won out then, and Matt pressed the Play button on the answering machine. While he doubted folks had left so many messages for his dat with orders for the store, it was possible that some of their out-of-town kin had been trying to reach them with important news. The first man’s accent sounded anything but Amish, however.
“I’m calling for James of Graber’s Custom Carriages,” he said in a businesslike drawl, “in regards to an article about a carriage you built for Disney World. If you’d call me back as soon as possible, Mr. Graber, I’d like to order some similar vehicles for my horse-drawn tour business here in Memphis.”
Matt’s eyebrows rose. He played two more similar messages, and then the fourth recording filled the shanty with a woman’s sophisticated voice. “Mr. Graber, I’m assuming you’ve read the magazine article I sent you, which featured the carriage Miss America recently rode,” she began. “It would be my privilege to interview you for an upcoming issue of our publication. So many readers have called wanting to know more about you and your carriage business. I can’t wait to speak with you!”
