Excerpt from ABBY FINDS HER CALLING
By Charlotte Hubbard
James Graber hurried down his family’s gravel lane, smiling at the pie pumpkins that remained in the garden. He stopped beside his shop to wave at Zeke and Eva Detweiler and the two buggies full of Detweiler children following them—including the carriage he’d designed to accommodate young Joel’s wheelchair. Then he crossed the road and strode alongside the mercantile, which was closed on this Thursday so the Lambrights could celebrate this special day.
It struck him, how many of the tipped-up buggies behind the Lambright barn had come from Graber Custom Carriages . . . how every family in Cedar Creek depended upon his vehicles and repair work. It was a gift, indeed, to live among the friends he served and to be entrusted with getting their families where they needed to go. And today, it seemed every man, woman, and child for miles around was showing up to wish him and Zanna well! Fellows in their black hats and suits chatted in clusters outside the house while their wives gathered in the kitchen to help with last-minute details of the wedding feast.
His gaze fluttered to Zanna’s upstairs bedroom window again. As he recalled tossing pebbles against it those first Saturday nights he’d courted her, James grinned like a kid. She’d looked so pretty in the moonlight, smiling down at him before she’d let him into the kitchen . . . had been so tickled that a successful, established fellow she knew so well wanted to win her heart.
Had Zanna come downstairs for the wedding yet? Did she feel as frisky and excited as a new foal, the way he did? In his black vest, trousers, and high-topped shoes, with a radiant white shirt, James glowed with an excitement he’d never known. He greeted Matt’s border collies, Panda and Pearl, with exuberant pats on their black and white heads. “Dressed for the wedding, I see!” he teased.
In less than an hour, Zanna would be seated with him and their four newehockers. It might be difficult to sit through Bishop Gingerich’s long sermon before they were at last called to stand before this gathering of family and friends—
James paused when a familiar figure stepped out the front door. Ordinarily folks came and went through the kitchen entry, but something about Abby Lambright’s expression announced that she was on no ordinary mission. She glanced across the yard, where dozens of bearded men in black suits and hats stood visiting, and then she headed straight for him.
“Gut morning, Abby!” he called out, hoping to dispel her gloomy frown as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Abby was a maidel, a few years older than he, and in his entire life he’d never known her to raise her voice or lose her temper.
“James,” she replied with a stiff nod. Her eyes looked puffy yet her gaze didn’t waver as she stopped a few feet in front of him. “There’s something we’ve got to tell you, James. And since Sam’s talking with the bishop, I’d better let you know that—well, there’s no easy way to say it.”
Frowning, he stepped closer. “Did somebody fall sick? Or get hurt carrying all those tables and pews and—”
“I wish it were as simple as that.” Abby bit her lip, sighing. “Zanna’s nowhere to be found. As far as we can tell, she didn’t sleep in her bed last night . . . and we have no idea where she might’ve gone. Or why.”
