“Yah,” Ronda said, all smiles, her eyes flitting around the edges of the quilt. “The child will come in late summer. How will that be—our first one…for Joe and me.”
“My, that is good news.”
“I had to tell you because you will be seeing it soon anyway,” Ronda said, blushing.
“It will be gut to hear a baby’s cry upstairs.”
“That brings up the question of whether or not we’ll be staying here. I haven’t heard anything from you about your marriage plans.”
Ella turned back to the last of the dishes. “Ivan and I don’t have an exact date yet.”
“I’m asking because Joe and I need to know if we’ll need to find another house.”
“I’ll make sure you aren’t cast out into the cold,” Ella said, coming to sit beside Ronda. “We just haven’t talked about that…Ivan and I. I would think I’d move to his place. I can’t imagine he’d want the house here. There are way too few acres, and he’s a farmer at heart. He has everything set up over there.”
“So what will happen?” Ronda asked, her thread stopped in midair.
“The only thing that has come to me,” Ella said, “is that Clara or Dora would have the place.”
“You’d give them this house? The one Aden gave you?”
“Life goes on,” Ella said. “I won’t need it anymore. And it has been a blessing to me, along with you and Joe, so I’m satisfied.” She walked over to the quilt and sat opposite Ronda.
“You sure are cool about this.” Ronda looked sharply at her. “You never were quite like this before. How can you walk away from the house just like that?”
“Well, I certainly can’t sell the house. That would be wrong. How could I sell what Aden gave me?”
Ronda considered this for a moment. “Ella, tell me the truth. Will you be happy with Ivan?”
Ella glanced at Ronda’s face in the soft light of the gas lantern. “What kind of question is that?”
“I mean, does your heart beat faster when you see him? Have you come to love him yet? Love him like a woman needs to love her husband?”
Ella hardly knew what to say. She took a deep breath. “I’m trying to work my way through some of those things. It’s not easy, you know.”
“Then it hasn’t happened yet.”
Ella shook her head. “Does it have to?”
“I would think so,” Ronda said, meeting her eyes over the quilt. “But I’ve never been in your shoes. I know it must be hard.”
Ella nodded, her eyes on her handwork. “I try, but then something happens to bring it all back. The memories of Aden. I know it’s wrong to keep comparing my feelings for Ivan with what I felt for Aden, but as you say, it’s hard.”
“Is there a chance it would be easier to love a different man? Bishop Miller showed some interest in you. He’s a fine, dashin’ sight, even after you told him there was no hope for a marriage between you. That says a lot for a man—the way he stood up to what must have been a most painful disappointment. I expect he’d come racing back if someone dropped a little hint near him.”
Ella laughed. “Don’t you dare! I’m not interested in the bishop.”
“Well, what about one of the other widowers? There aren’t too many single boys left. In fact, none that I know of.”
“Ronda, please don’t be so silly. Besides, there’s more than just my happiness to consider. When I think of Ivan and me, I can’t help consider what would happen with the girls if I didn’t marry their daett.”
“Just because they need a mamm, doesn’t mean it has to be you,” Ronda said, glancing sharply at her. “Ivan can find some other woman, I’m sure.”
“There’s just one problem. The girls have stolen my heart.”
“And so you’d marry a man for his daughters?”
“No, of course not. There’s also the fact that Ivan loves me. You ought to see the way he looks at me. Also, he needs me. Isn’t that good enough?”
“Only if you love him.”
Ella thought about Ronda’s words before she said, “But perhaps I want a different kind of love this time.” Her voice rose with passion. “I want a love that doesn’t break my heart. One that isn’t tearing it all up until I can’t even find the little pieces. Perhaps I want a love that doesn’t hurt. One that doesn’t cause me to crawl on the ground with pain when Da Hah takes it away.”
“Yah,” Ronda said. “That makes sense. I don’t know, of course, because I haven’t been there. But losin’ Joe would feel like that.”
“At least you’d have his bobli,” Ella said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. Where had all this come from? These were questions she thought were long settled in her mind. Had that Englisha man brought them back up? It could not be. She wanted desperately to wipe the imprint of the man’s face from her memory. Faintly she heard Ronda speaking. “What was that?” she asked.
“It would be harder now that I have his bobli. Nee, I know it would be harder. Losing Joe now would be worse than before,” Ronda repeated.
Ella felt her eyes brimming with tears. She pulled her gaze away, hardly able to see the quilt. Her stitches under her fingers looked like blurred lines in the distance. Ella paused, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to preach to you,” Ronda said, wiping her eyes. “Ivan is a nice man.”
“I know,” Ella said, her stitches now visible again. Carefully she ran the needle around the line, the stitches so small her eyes strained to follow.
Ella hoped Ronda would turn the conversation to another topic.
Ronda did seem to realize enough had been said on the subject. The two women worked the rest of the afternoon mostly in silence, with a few words of idle conversation as they occurred.
The girls soon roused from their naps, and began playing with their dolls. Hours passed until the light grew dim with the approach of the evening. Joe could be heard returning home.
As Ronda went up the stairs to the first floor, Ella said, “Don’t worry, Ronda. I’ll make arrangements with whoever gets the house. I’ll make sure you have enough time after the baby comes to find something else.”
“You have always been more than kind,” Ronda said. “Danki much.”
Ella nodded, her eyes unaccountably brimming once again.
Twelve
Ella simply could not sleep. She paced the floor, occasionally looking out the window at the freshly fallen snow. If only she could step outside for a few moments. She needed to think, and the pacing wasn’t doing the trick. All three girls were asleep for the night, so why couldn’t she go outside? She had to figure out why this Englisha stranger was driving sleep from her mind! Tomorrow she would pay for this foolishness, as she would surely be unable to stay awake when Ronda came to quilt. And this was all his fault.
In desperation, Ella peeked behind the curtains separating the beds from the larger room. The girls were still sound asleep. She listened for a moment before letting the curtains slide from her hand. Her coat and shawl hung by the stairs. Yes, she would go outside for a walk, snow or no snow.
At the kitchen table she turned the kerosene lamp down low. Its light cast crazy shadows on the basement ceiling, making the chair the Englisha man had been sitting in appear wobbly and crooked. Ella turned her eyes away. She wouldn’t think about the chair—or the man.
Gently falling snow swirled around her as she stepped outside the door. It was much worse than it had appeared from inside. Already the basement steps were covered. She pushed the snow aside with her boots before she used each step, careful not to slip. Should she fall, Ronda would hear her cries for help—and wouldn’t that be just the perfect end to this day.
Ella wrapped her shawl tightly around her head and neck. Each blast of wind seemed to drive flakes and cold right through her coat. Already the snow came halfway up her boots. Someone would have to shovel snow in the morning again. Ella tried to make out the barn, but she couldn’t see
that far in the darkness and swirls of snow.
He was here, right in this driveway with his Englisha car. Where is he now? Over at Bishop Miller’s? Ella almost laughed out loud. What will the bishop do? Welcome Robert in with open arms? Tell him his dream can be realized? That the Amish welcomed outsiders?
Ella pushed forward through the snow. Perhaps if she reached the barn, she could sit and think without reminders of the Englisha man. Wasn’t the man’s name Robert? Yes, that was it. Robert Hayes. Moonbeam will listen to my sorrows without being shocked. Should I have confided in Ronda this afternoon? Would she have understood? Ella laughed again, the sound strangled by the wind. No, Ronda would certainly not have understood. She would think I’ve lost my mind.
Perhaps she was out of her mind. Ella shivered, wrapping her shawl even tighter around her neck. In front of her the faint outline of the barn appeared, and she stumbled against the door, reaching to turn the latch. It was frozen. Ella rattled the metal, trying harder. This time the door opened, and she rushed inside, feeling the dark warmth of the barn wrap around her.
Moonbeam neighed from his stall, but Ella couldn’t even see her hand when she held it up to her face. Joe kept a lantern out here, but the light might attract attention. But with the snowstorm, surely she wouldn’t be seen. Ella groped for the box stall where Joe kept the lantern and matches. Moonbeam nickered, a friendly, hopeful sound, as if he were glad to see her.
“It’s just me,” she whispered. “I’m trying to find the matches.”
Her horse banged loudly in his stall, and Ella smiled in the darkness. At least Moonbeam wasn’t afraid to express his feelings. Not like she was. Afraid of feelings for, of all things, an Englisha man. The whole thing was just not possible. His promises to join the faith were as empty as those of Pam, Eli’s beloved nurse. If she allowed it, he would surely try to lead her heart away from the faith the first chance he had. Bishop Miller probably had Robert well on his way already, sending him back to whatever town he had come from.
Ella found the matches with her cold fingers, and scraped one on a rough stall board. She pushed down too hard, hearing the wood stem snap under her fingers. With greater care, she flicked the second match over the board with a lighter touch. The match flared, and when she turned the knob on the lamp and held the match to it, it caught the gas fumes with a pop. Ella hung the lantern on a nail as light flooded the barn.
Moonbeam had his head out of his stall, blinking slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“No, we’re not going anywhere,” Ella said. “I’m only out here to think for a few minutes.”
In the other stalls, Joe’s two horses kept their heads inside, but one snorted and kicked against the wall.
Ella checked to see if the horse was okay. He bobbed his head in the light and shook himself. She carried the lantern to the furthest end of the barn and hung her shawl in front of it. Here the straw was stacked high to the ceiling with a few bales scattered around. Ella pulled two of them together. She could stretch out here, perhaps spend the night with the horses. Already she felt much better. Let it snow outside, she would rest here for a while. The girls would be okay. And Old Christmas wasn’t far away, a night much like this, when the Christ child was born in a manger among the animals. So if Christ was born in a barn, surely it was okay for her to spend time here.
Ella let the peacefulness sweep over her. There were stories among her people of beasts that spoke on the Holy Night. Not that anyone ever heard them, but Ella lay back on the straw bales and thought of the stories from her childhood. They were easy to believe when sitting on straw bales in the middle of a snowstorm surrounded by lantern light shaded by a shawl.
“Can you talk on the Holy Night?” she asked Moonbeam. He turned to look at her, jerking his head up and down.
Ella laughed. “I meant a little more than that.”
He jerked his head again.
“You horses have it easy. You don’t have to worry about falling in love. You have no bad boys who steal your heart. Of course, Aden wasn’t bad…not like this Englisha man.
“There, I said it! Now someone knows, at least, even if it is just you, Moonbeam. And it makes me feel a little better. Oh, I know I’ll never see him again, but still I’ll feel like my heart betrayed me. But of course you don’t know anything about that. You’re just a horse.”
Just then a horrible thought gripped her, bringing her upright on the straw bale. Was it possible? Would the young Bishop Miller actually do such a thing? He could if he wanted to, and her blood ran cold at the thought. So her nightmare with the bishop might not be over with after all. Was the bishop really that kind of man? It was possible, wasn’t it? As soon as Robert mentioned to the bishop where he had come from—a few more questions would pull all the information the bishop needed. Robert would tell him that Ivan had asked her hand in marriage. Robert wouldn’t know enough not to give the information. Oh why did she tell him? Stupid! she thought.
She could see it all now, as clear as day. As soon as Robert mentioned his admiration for Ella and gave the bishop the same speech about joining the Amish that he had given her, the bishop would play along. Perhaps even encourage Robert, telling him the steps he needed to take, even take him under his wing for a few weeks. And in the bishop’s care, the other ministers would allow Robert to stay. All the time, of course, Robert could be used by the bishop to come between her and Ivan. How Bishop Miller would do it, Ella wasn’t certain, but it was possible. The man would set about his job with great glee. And he certainly understood women, didn’t he?
With great indignation she rose to her feet, brushing the straw off her coat and taking the gas lantern back to the stall where it belonged. Setting the lantern carefully where it had been, Ella brushed the dust of her fingerprints from the top of the board. This night visit to the barn would stay between her and Moonbeam. The young bishop and whatever scheme he cooked up would not take her away from Ivan’s girls, only to swoop in himself afterward to pick up her heart. And worse, if Ivan learned of any of this—of her unwanted attraction to the Englisha man or of any inappropriate action with an outside man, he would be obligated to cut off their relationship.
“You won’t succeed!” Ella cried, casting the retort back toward her horse, as if he were the young bishop himself. “I told you no once, and I still mean it!”
The barn fell into darkness as Ella turned the valve on the lantern. She felt the heaviness descend on her. She reached out with her hands, lest she bump into something. The door handle was soon under her fingers, and she stepped outside. She was prepared to face the blast of the wind with the sting of snow but was surprised when only the wind came.
A quick glance up showed the scurry of clouds already broken up by the strong wind. Stars twinkled through in spots, and then they were covered up again in the race of the clouds. The temperature had dropped rapidly, making the night much clearer.
Had she been seen? Well, if so, she would simply tell Ronda the truth. At least part of it. That she had gone to the barn to be with Moonbeam. A sort of therapy that Ronda might understand. A lecture might follow no doubt, along the lines of Ella needing a husband for therapy, but she could bear up under that. She would tell Ronda, “I’m trying,” although Ronda wouldn’t know how hard she was—or wasn’t—trying.
Her trip to the barn had helped, but it also had raised a new dilemma. How was she to know for sure of the bishop’s plans? He lived in a different district from hers and could take any visitors to church with him and she wouldn’t know. She might not know for weeks if Robert were still around.
Ella tried to run through the snow, but had to slow down. Then, reaching the concrete steps down to her basement door, she slipped on the top step and missed the next two before her hands caught anything solid. With a jar, she landed hard.
“Dumb…dumb…dumb…” she muttered. “Do be more careful, woman!”
Slowly she moved. Thankfully there was no pain. A quick glance upward revealed n
o faces in one of the first floor windows. Ella got up and took the rest of the steps more carefully.
Inside, with the door shut tightly behind her, she first checked behind the curtains and found the girls still sound asleep. She then added extra wood to the fire. Even more would be needed later, as arctic as the temperature was outside. She would know when the fire died down by the cold creeping in and awakening her.
For a long moment Ella paused, thinking, and then made a quick dash for her journal. Tomorrow morning she would be too tired to think, but right now the thoughts raced clearly through her head. She turned the kerosene wick up as high as it would go and wrote quickly.
I fear that my heart has betrayed me to an Englisha man. And yet how can that be? On top of that, I think the bishop will try to help him—for his own reasons of course. Part of me wants to think this can’t be true, that even though the bishop had his feelings hurt by my refusal to marry him, he would still have enough sense to know that I won’t reconsider under any circumstances.
Another part of me—the stronger part—tells me I am right. That the bishop will help out the Englisha man. He will give Robert the shelter and the direction he needs until a division between me and Ivan can be created. Bishop Miller is a very wise man. He among all people knows how much I loved Aden and that I don’t have the same feelings for Ivan yet.
I know I’m right, and yet I can’t even tell Ivan, like I feel I should. If I were to confess my attraction to an Englisha man, that would be exactly what Bishop Miller wants. See, already his plan is working! I do so wish Da Hah would help me somehow. I don’t want to turn out like Eli.
Ella wrote the last words in a heavy hand, the pencil pressed down so hard the lead almost went through the paper. Then she closed the tablet, took it with her, hid it behind the clothes as usual, and wearily climbed into bed.
Thirteen
Ella Finds Love Again (Little Valley 3) Page 8
