“Abby-girl, is this a dream, or are we really finally married?”
Abby sighed contentedly as James stood behind her at the kitchen counter on Friday morning. With his arms wrapped around her and his head resting on her shoulder, she was living out her own dreams after their months of courting—after the past several years, when she’d been in love with James Graber and he hadn’t had a clue. “Jah, it’s true,” she whispered. “For better or for worse, you’re stuck with me now!”
“Stuck on you is more like it,” he teased as he turned her in his arms. “Much as I loved seeing all the family and friends who came to celebrate with us yesterday, I couldn’t wait for them all to leave.”
As she gazed into her new husband’s handsome face, Abby tingled with joy. Her maidenly worries about their first night together had evaporated like steam from fresh-baked bread. And even though Vernon Gingerich had preached about how love grew stronger and more resilient over the years of a good marriage, she couldn’t imagine feeling more at one with James than she did at this moment. “It was a long party and a short night,” she agreed, feeling somewhat weary from their big day. “But tonight we can catch up on our sleep.”
“Sleep?” James countered. “How can I even think of dozing off with you beside me? It was wonderful-gut to be here in your little house, just the two of us, for our first night together.”
Abby’s face prickled with warmth. “Let me rephrase that. Tonight we can get to bed earlier.”
“I like the sound of that, honey-girl,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes. He kissed her then, as though he never wanted to let her go. “It would be nice to break with tradition and stay home, rather than leaving tomorrow morning—and these next several weekends—to collect our gifts. This nest is so cozy . . . I could slip back into our room right this minute . . .”
Abby returned his kisses until the teapot on the stove let out a shrill whistle. “We’d have Sam and the others pounding on the door if we did.” She filled the teapot and replaced its lid to let the bags steep, thrilled that James’s feelings mirrored her own so closely. “We’ve got quite a lot of redding up to do today. You’d think, after all the weddings I’ve helped with this fall, I’d be used to how much mess comes with hosting nearly three hundred guests.”
“We’ll have a lot of help—and for that, I’m grateful that our families live across the road from each other,” he said as he took two plates from the cabinet. “Are these fried pies on the counter for our breakfast, I hope? If they’re your lemon-pineapple ones, you might not get any.”
Abby laughed as she opened the oven door. “You’re the man of the house now, so I suppose you can have whatever you choose. But I just happen to have a pan of breakfast casserole here, all warm and full of cheese and bacon and onion and—”
James inhaled appreciatively. “Maybe I can have a fried pie for dessert, then. And when did you have time to put a casserole together?” he quizzed her. “These past few days you’ve been working in the store and sewing wedding dresses for your mamm and sister and Emma, not to mention making those fried pies for last night’s supper.”
Abby shrugged. “Haven’t you figured out that the women in your life just do these things as part and parcel of every day? Or did you think little angels came in and made the food appear with a flicker of their wings?” she teased.
“I know you’re an angel. Does anything else really matter?”
Her heart stilled as she met his gaze. “Oh, James, you still say the sweetest things,” she whispered.
“You expect me to stop, now that we’re married? I don’t think so.” He glanced toward the window in the front room and sighed. “Looks like your brother and some of the others are already headed over to the greenhouse. Guess we’d better get moving, or they’ll think we’re slackers.”
While they quickly ate their breakfast, Abby couldn’t stop smiling. As Cedar Creek’s carriage maker and the only son in his family, James was anything but a slacker. And with such a kind, considerate man by her side, she anticipated a marriage that followed the idyllic scenes of her fondest daydreams. They dressed and stepped out into the brisk November morning just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Alongside Sam’s tall white house, the plowed garden was bare now that the last of the pumpkins and winter squash had been picked. The red and golden leaves sparkled with a hint of frost. Down in the hilly pasture, along the cedar-lined creek, her nephew Matt’s sheep were milling about in woolly clusters.
“Isn’t that a picture?” Abby murmured. “I never tire of seeing those mama ewes and their wee ones.”
James grasped her hand and leaned close to murmur in her ear. “Someday ewes going to be a mama with wee ones,” he quipped.
Abby laughed and kissed his cheek. It was such a wonderful thing, to show her affection for her new husband in public now—but it didn’t go unnoticed. A loud whoop came from Sam’s front porch, where her nieces Gail and Ruthie were stepping outside.
“Two little lovebirds sitting in a tree,” twelve-year-old Ruthie sang out, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
“Tease me all you want,” Abby shot back. “One of these days, I hope you will be this happy.”
When they entered her mother’s greenhouse, their neighbors’ pleasant chitchat echoed in the high-ceilinged glass building. Sam and Matt were taking down the long tables. James’s parents were helping Rosemary gather the soiled white tablecloths, while little Katie and Beth Ann were picking up litter from the floor. As James joined the men, Abby went over to help Emma sort the mountain of clean silverware that was piled on the counter.
“Gut morning, Mrs. Graber,” Emma murmured. “And how’s the bride doing after her big day?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Abby saw that her friend had started piles of clean knives, forks, and spoons, so she began placing them in their wooden cases. “I’m glad we have a wedding wagon in Cedar Creek, so we don’t have to worry about returning all this silverware to women around town. And denki so much for all your help yesterday, Emma—even though you could’ve taken the day off to just be a member of the wedding party . . . along with Jerome.”
“I was happy to help,” Emma insisted, but then a shy smile twitched at her lips. “I’m going out with him tomorrow. It’s not a date, exactly, but we have a . . . mutual mission.”
“Gut for you!” Abby was aware that Emma had been resisting Jerome’s attention, so this was welcome news. “Care to let me in on what you’ll be doing?”
“Oh, just . . . going for a ride,” Emma replied. She glanced back to see how her parents were doing with the tablecloths. “A lot of folks asked me for ideas about wedding presents yesterday. What would you and James like? Or need?”
Abby shrugged. “I can’t give you much of an answer, I’m afraid. What with my house being as full as it needs to be—”
“Jah, it’s the same at our place,” Emma remarked. “It’s hard to choose gifts for a couple that already has everything.”
Chuckling, Abby put the lid on a box filled with forks. “I set up housekeeping because I’d figured on staying a maidel for the rest of my life, running my Stitch in Time business while I helped Sam manage the store.”
“And your days at the mercantile are numbered, too, Abby,” Sam declared as he took down the table behind her and Emma. “I can’t allow you to work there now that you’re married—especially now that I’m a preacher. But you knew that, of course.”
Without turning from the counter, Abby kept stacking spoons in their wooden box. This was a subject she and James had already worked out between them. Even though she’d anticipated Sam’s attitude—his insistence on following the Ordnung and Old Order ways—it stung her that he was bringing it up the day after the wedding. It sounded as though he expected her to move her sewing machine and supplies out of her upstairs nook today. “Preacher Abe’s wife runs a restaurant,” she countered. “Beulah Mae deals with English and Plain customers, just like I do at the mercantile.”
“But she’s finished raising her family,” Sam pointed out. “And while Abe doesn’t let on, the income from his truck farm and orchard dribbles in pretty thin once the apple season’s over. I’ve got a gut cash flow year-round, so I can’t justify keeping you on.”
Oh, but his words hurt. Abby loved working in the store, helping customers and making out the orders. She’d been restocking bulk baking ingredients and dry goods in the back room since she was younger than Ruthie. She’d been strategizing about this subject for a while now, so she tried another idea. “Barbara’s still midwifing, so I thought—”
“Don’t start with me on that subject,” Sam interrupted. “I’ve told her she’s to cut back, but she’s the only person in town with any medical expertise. Several women have insisted they’ll not let anyone else assist with their babies, so . . . well, it doesn’t sound fair, I know, but her birthing skills are more essential than your help at the mercantile.”
So that was the way of it? Abby nipped her lip, feeling more disappointment than she cared to admit. She made one last attempt to change her brother’s mind. “Who will you hire to do the ordering and take the inventories?” she asked. “Now that you’ve assumed your preaching duties, you’re not in the store most days until noon or—”
“My mind’s made up, Abby. This will be your last week of working at the store. I’ll depend upon Gail, of course, but I’ve begun looking for other reliable help as well.”
And whom might Sam find to replace her? Abby knew better than to pursue the subject any longer. What with Sam being her older brother, the owner of the store, and a district church leader, his decision overrode her protests on three counts. Emma patted her wrist in sympathy as the two of them finished boxing up the clean silverware. They loaded the wooden containers into a pull cart and then headed out the back door to where the big wedding wagon was parked. As Emma pulled the cart up the ramp into the wagon, Abby pushed from behind until they were inside.
“I’m sorry about your having to quit at the store, Abby,” Emma murmured. “It won’t be the same, shopping without you there—and I know you’ll miss it, too.”
Abby struggled with the lump in her throat. But what good would it do to be upset? She slung her arm gratefully around Emma’s shoulder as they stood inside the shadowy wagon. “Denki for understanding about that,” she murmured. “What would I do without you?”
Emma slipped her arm around Abby’s waist. “I’m glad you’ll still be living here in Cedar Creek now that you’re married, Abby. So many of our friends have moved away after hitching up with fellows from other districts.”
“Jah, weddings change things amongst friends,” she murmured. “It’s a blessing to me that we’re sisters now, Emma, and that we’ll always have each other to turn to.”
“That’s how I see it, too.” Emma squeezed her, and then they began fitting the cartons of silverware into the cabinets that were built into the wagon’s walls. “And you know, we have a couple of spare rooms at our place where you can set up your Stitch in Time business. Sam couldn’t object to that, as it would be no different from Rosemary baking her pies at home. And Mamm and Dat would be glad for your company during the day, too.”
Abby considered this as she slipped another case of silverware into a slot. “That’s a gut thought. When I move out of the store’s loft, I surely don’t have room for all those sewing supplies at my tiny place.”
“We’d love it if you and James wanted to live with us, too,” Emma continued in a wistful voice. “But I can understand why it’s special to have your own little hideaway. Mamm and Dat can be troublesome, what with their picking at each other and—”
“Your parents are not the reason we’re living at my house, Emma,” Abby insisted. “And you know we’ll be there the moment you need us, too. James and I never intended for you to have to watch over your folks all by yourself.”
“Jah, James says he’ll be over every day to check on us.”
“And so will I,” Abby insisted in a burst of inspiration, “because—if it’s okay with your folks—I’ve just now decided to move my Stitch in Time business into whichever room you’ll let me have. That’s a gut solution for all of us, Emma, and I appreciate your offer.”
Abby raised her eyebrows playfully, considering another issue she suspected was on her best friend’s mind. “So if I’ll be working at the house, you’ll have no excuse not to go out with Jerome, jah? He had eyes only for you yesterday.”
Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “He and I had a chat about that,” she blurted. “He’s a nice enough fellow, I suppose, but sometimes he believes he’s pretty special, too. I’m not sure what to think of him, truth be told.”
Abby closed the cabinet, sensing she’d said enough about Jerome. She and James had agreed to let the couple work things out between themselves. “Well, now that we’ve packed away the silverware, the fellows can load the tables and folding chairs. The wedding wagon’ll be ready for whoever’s next to get hitched, once we wash all those tablecloths.”
“No time like the present,” Emma agreed. “Or had you figured on being at the mercantile when Sam reopens it this afternoon?”
As they rolled the empty pull cart down the wagon’s ramp, Abby considered her reply. James wanted to work for a while in his carriage shop, so she had planned to put in her usual Friday afternoon hours at the mercantile . . . but her situation had changed.
“Let’s you and I get going on the tablecloths. Sam can run the place with just Gail there today—as practice for when I’ll be gone,” she added mischievously. “Maybe this sounds prideful of me, Emma, but I predict that my brother will be asking me to come back for the Christmas season, only a couple of weeks away. Gail does her best, but nobody can run that place alone, especially when Sam gets called out to tend a church member’s needs.”
Emma chuckled. “I can’t imagine who he’ll get to replace you, Abby. Far as I can recall, only Lambrights have ever worked there,” she remarked as they paused alongside the wedding wagon. “What with Phoebe married now, and Barbara midwifing, and your mamm running her gift shop, and Ruthie still in school, he’s down to just Gail.”
The back door of the greenhouse opened and Sam stepped outside. He looked at the two of them with a purposeful expression on his face, as though he’d been waiting for them to come out of the wagon. “Emma, would you consider working in the mercantile?” he asked. “If you started on Monday, Abby could show you how we do things while she’s still there next week. James has reminded me that you’ve kept his carriage shop books for years—and your parents have just assured me that they’d get along fine while you’d be working,” he continued earnestly. “It would ease my mind to have someone I know and trust as a new employee.”
Abby’s mouth dropped open. “We—we were just talking about how I’ll probably be moving my sewing business into a room at the Graber place, so I would be there with Eunice and Merle,” she murmured.
But she stopped there. Although she loved Emma dearly, Abby wasn’t at all sure her best friend had the temperament or the day-to-day storekeeping skills Sam was looking for. But her brother had already said he wasn’t going to listen to any more of her protests . . . so she would say no more.