In the silence that followed, Albert closed his Bible and wept with the great cries of a father who deeply loved his son.
Some of the married children left soon afterward. Others of them were led upstairs to spend the night. Ella gave up her room, insisting she would prefer the couch in the living room.
“You can sleep here. We might be up and down all night,” Lydian said.
“That is perfectly all right,” Ella said. “It really is. I want to be close to him.”
Lydian nodded, wiping her eyes.
When the last person disappeared, Ella lay on the couch in the dress she had come in. Tomorrow morning she would change into her black dress for the funeral. Tired from grief, she soon dozed off.
With a start she awoke. The house was silent, and the moon had risen, hanging in the living room window in a small inverted slice. Slowly she sat up.
The time had come to see Aden again. With the desire to be close to him strong, Ella stood up on her unsteady legs. During the walk to the bedroom, fear clawed at her, but she pushed it aside. Lydian had left a kerosene lamp burning in the bedroom, its light turned low. This time there was no one to stop her when she saw his white face, his best shirt collar tight around his neck. Ella touched him, her hands on his. She kissed his cheek and wept softly until there were no tears left to cry.
“I’ll be tellin’ you goodbye now, here alone,” she whispered. “Tomorrow there will be others. I loved you so much, Aden. I know that God must have you, whatever His reasons are, and so I find I can’t hate Him. It would be as if I hated you.”
She paused, her hands still holding his. “Goodbye, Aden. You were my dearest. I always loved you with all of my heart. Sleep your years in peace until I can join you again.”
She turned and walked slowly back to the couch, drying her tears with her wet handkerchief. Then she lay quietly, watching the moon in the window until she fell asleep again.
Nine
Daniel awoke with the moonbeams from the east window on his face. What had awakened him? The moonbeams or the ache in his heart for his brother Aden? The events of last night and the day prior came back with great clarity. This all was such a shame and such a great loss, especially for Ella and Aden.
He hadn’t cried much yet—only a few tears last night when Daett read the Scripture about Job. The words were very touching, especially the ones about still blessing the Lord whether He gave or took away. That seemed hard. How could one bless the Lord when a gut man like Aden had died so suddenly? Did the Holy Book always get things right? The preachers said so, but it sure didn’t feel like it now.
He really must do something. That was much easier than speaking words. Aden had always been able to say things just right, but Daniel rarely could. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they had gotten along so well.
Why had Aden passed away? Daniel sat up in bed and struggled with the question. Why would God just come down and take away my brother—a brother so close to marriage with Ella. The two were wonderful together. It seemed as if they were made for each other. Is God so wise that He can see what I cannot?
It was not as if Daniel wanted to challenge God, but this tragedy seemed so very wrong. Sure, Aden carried some of the blame because he hadn’t gone to the clinic when the pains started. Home remedies hadn’t been enough this time.
The old people said one should crawl downstairs head first a couple of times to cure a stomach or side ache. It had always worked for him before, and Aden had seemed satisfied with the relief he received. He, at least, had rested well enough that one day to go back to work the next at the construction job near Randolph. They had driven down there together in the buggy instead of hiring an Englisha driver.
The weather had been good, Aden had looked okay, and they had worked hard all day. Aden hadn’t eaten supper, though, and complained about having a fever. His mamm had checked his forehead.
“It’s just the aftereffects of whatever you had,” she said. “Perhaps if you sleep on it and get a good night’s rest, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
Aden had his own room across the hall, and nothing unusual had happened that night. No groans or cries of agony as there should be from a man who would die the next day. It was strange. Maybe the preachers did know what they were talking about when they spoke of a God who chose to do what He wanted all without much warning.
Ella, the woman who was to have become like a sister, was downstairs, perhaps sleeping now. What could be done for her? Not much. She was obviously greatly distraught, more so than he was, perhaps. Aden had only been his brother. She was to be his wife. But maybe her pain would pass eventually. Maybe she could love again and marry. She was beautiful, that was for sure, even in her present agony.
Amish girls in similar situations married again unless they had some very good reason not to, and Ella obviously didn’t. Her sorrow would be overcome with time. There had been young widows before in the community, and they all came to terms with their grief and married again.
Suddenly Daniel felt ashamed. Where has such a thought come from anyway? It’s terrible to think about Aden and Ella, Aden’s body still lying downstairs. Another boy with Ella? No, the thought is best not considered. Yet it could happen. It is just a matter of time. No other boys have ever dated Ella that I know about. Aden had been the first and only one to ever take her home.
He rolled over in bed. How much better it would be if Aden were still alive.
Since I can’t help him with Ella, I’ll have to figure out another way I can help. And then Daniel remembered that his brother’s money needed to be dispersed in some fashion and that he was the other signature on the account in the bank at Randolph. The sum was considerable. By this time surely it was almost enough to build the house Aden wanted so badly to build for Ella.
Might this have been the reason Aden was hesitant to visit the clinic? Since Aden was over twenty-one—already twenty-four—and had no insurance, he would have had to pay the medical fees. If his reluctance to go the clinic was to save money it was all really a big shame. What good was money without the life to go with it?
“I’m a ripe old age for an unmarried Amish man,” Aden had said, ‘‘and I’m waiting for her, and she’s worth it. Worth every day and minute it takes.”
One morning at the job site, Aden had laughed about one of their preachers telling the story of Jacob from the Old Testament waiting seven years for Rachel. He then waited another seven when he was given Leah to marry first. Aden liked the point of the story—that others had walked this same road he was on and had found the prize to be worth the effort.
Daniel smiled as he remembered the look on Preacher Stutzman’s face. He would snort in disgust if he knew of Aden’s application of his sermon. Stutzman was just a young fellow, quite zealous about things, and certainly would have been repelled by the use of Scripture for such a mundane and carnal reason. In Preacher Stutzman’s mind, all Scriptures were given by inspiration of God to support and defend the church Ordnung. Beyond that all uses of Scripture were less than godly.
Could Aden have been kept from a visit to the clinic by his desire to save money—the money he needed desperately to build the house for Ella and himself? Aden hadn’t wanted to borrow money even though others in the community borrowed money under certain circumstances. Often farms were too large to be purchased totally with cash, or a person needed start-up money to begin a new business.
If Aden’s obsession had affected his decision, Daniel decided he had better not mention the matter to anyone. He didn’t know for sure, and, besides, what difference would it make now? Many of the Amish put off medical needs because of financial difficulties.
Daniel remembered, though, that Aden had based some other decisions on money. One had been the way they had conducted business. Aden and Daniel worked in the construction business, and often Aden contracted their work. According to the Ordnung, contracting was a great evil. It led many souls to the lust of money and from there to worse sins.
A man would face temptations, the preachers said, beyond his ability to bear if he was allowed to state a price upfront and then perform the work afterward. He might be tempted to cut the quality of the work, work faster than the body was made to labor, and use materials that could fail later after the money had been collected and the check cashed. Only righteous work could be done when the labor was performed by the hour—at least according to the preachers and the Ordnung.
Aden had snorted through his nose at this idea, not in front of their daett but in private to Daniel. Aden also said he would take responsibility for breaking the Ordnung in this matter and would never allow Daniel’s reputation to be compromised if they were ever caught. “It’s all a bunch of baloney,” he said. “A man is righteous because his heart is righteous. Out of the heart come the important things in life. That’s in the Scriptures somewhere if Preacher Stutzman really cares to read it.”
Aden had enough nerve to approach Bishop Mast one Sunday afternoon in Preacher Stutzman’s hearing and start a conversation about contracting. The noon meal of peanut butter sandwiches, dill pickles, cheese, and coffee had just been eaten. Benches had been taken out to the lawn, and the men were relaxing in the shade, chewing on grass stems, and talking about whatever crossed their minds while the women folks cleaned up inside the house.
“It’s not fair,” Aden had said. “Why aren’t the carpenters allowed to contract? All of you furniture makers set a price beforehand. The bakeries do it. The cabinet shops do too. Just about everyone else. Even milk has a set price.”
Bishop Mast smiled. “S’pose that’s just the way things are done, and they’re not likely to change—at least while the church is my responsibility.”
Stutzman, though, rose up in a glorious burst of righteous indignation and said, “I can’t believe you bring this up today, Aden. I’m terribly disappointed to hear one of the young men of the church bringing up this question of contracting. This is all a great evil, and a greater one can hardly be imagined. It would be like a cancer in the soul of the church if contracting were allowed. The apostle James said, ‘Ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.’” He had quoted the verse in German, making the matter sound even more serious.
Stutzman continued to quote James, “Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are moth eaten.”
He then quoted the apostle Paul from Corinthians, “God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.”
Stutzman said the apostle also said, “My speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.”
Bishop Mast had cleared his throat loudly at that point and replied, “Yah, Stutzman, we know this is true. It’s all well and good, but contracting won’t be allowed in any case. It seems to me that’s as good an answer as any. Besides, in all the other businesses Aden just mentioned, the customer can examine the product well before he makes the purchase. Is this not true? Yet it is not true for contracting. Besides that, contracting holds greater temptations because of the large sums of money involved.”
That, of course, closed the matter but not in Aden’s mind. He figured out a way he could contract, at least for a few years until he had enough money to pay for his house. He would simply do it, tell no one about it, and pay Daniel by the hour. No one need be the wiser for it.
If and when he built his house, he wouldn’t need to lie about where the money came from. Everyone would just assume that it came from a loan. It would work out. Aden had smiled with great confidence. Ella deserved a new house, one that was paid off. “She’s just that kind of girl,” Aden had said.
So Aden had contracted the work. He paid Daniel and the rest of the crew their wages, and the rest of the money was now tucked away in the bank in Randolph. If he could, he would help his brother spend the money in the way it was supposed to be spent. Perhaps Aden had left some instructions somewhere.
Daniel, weary of his thoughts, got out of bed, stared out the window at the moon, but soon returned to bed. Hopefully he could sleep through the few remaining hours until morning and the dawn of a very sad day.
Ten
Ella woke up when the two neighbor ladies came to prepare break-fast for the family. The soft click of the front door brought her upright on the couch. Her head was pounding, her hands were shaking, and her stomach was ready for food—all of which seemed quite out of place. Her body shouldn’t want to go on with life when her heart didn’t.
“Good morning,” the women greeted her.
“You must be Ella,” the younger one said.
She nodded and stood a little shakily.
“The news about Aden was so sad,” the younger one said, offering Ella a hug. “I’m Ida, and this is my mamm, Susan. We live just down the road a bit.”
Susan gently shook Ella’s hand. “I hope we didn’t get the house up too early.”
“No,” Ella said, “I’m used to getting up at this time of the day, anyway.”
“Then we’d best get busy,” Susan said. “Food still has to be made, and I’m sure everyone is hungry. The body is the first to move on with life even if the heart no longer wants to live.”
“Yah,” Ella said, nodding, “it does seem so.”
“Lost a child myself… It was years ago,” Susan said. “He was just a small boy, my David, but I did sorrow for him. I imagine it would be worse if he had been full grown. I guess Da Hah always has mercy.”
“It does hurt a lot,” Ella said, unsure of how to reply. Then she added, “I think I’ll just step outside for a little while.”
“Yah, you do that, and we will get busy here,” Ida said. “We’ll have breakfast ready soon, and you can eat when you want.”
Behind them the bedroom door opened, and Lydian stepped out, already dressed in her work clothes.
“Now, you get right back in there,” Ida and Susan said at the same time. “We’ll be takin’ care of breakfast.”
“But I should help,” Lydian said.
“No, you rest,” Ida said, her voice firm. “You get back in bed. We’ll be callin’ when breakfast’s ready.”
“You’re much too kind,” Lydian said, a catch in her voice.
“It’s the least we can do,” Susan said, stepping forward to give Lydian a hug. “I lost a son too. He just wasn’t as old as yours.”
“I remember that,” Lydian said. “His name was David.”
“Yah, David. Yet Da Hah has healed my wounds, as He will yours.”
“This is true,” Lydian agreed. “Even with this great a pain, Da Hah can be healin’ it.”
“Now, get a few more winks of sleep,” Ida said. “We disturbed Ella enough already.”
Ella smiled weakly. “I really want to go outside…to see the morning much more than I want to sleep.”
“We will call you, then, when the food is ready,” Susan said warmly.
Ella nodded and stepped outside as Lydian closed her bedroom door.
The predawn morning air held just enough chill to need a light coat. Ella paused. Should I go back in? Nee, the cold feels good to my aching head. It seemed to ease the throb.
Aden’s parents’ house lay in a hollow, surrounded by trees and the murmur of the little creek in the distance. Open farmland lay behind them, and the open swath ran up the hill a ways. From here none of the open sweeping vistas could be seen from Seager Hill.
To Ella this had always been Aden’s place and still was today. Many times she had come here Sunday afternoons and for family occasions. To Ella this place had grown to seem much like her own home.
Few Amish ever moved from Cattaraugus County. It would have been the same for Aden and herself. Aden’s parcel of land lay up on Chapman Road, and they would have brought their children down here and to Seager Hill, adding to both of their parents’ list of gra
ndchildren. She would have called this “Mommy and Dawdy’s place” when speaking to her children. Now it was not to be.
It was yet another loss among the many she had experienced the last few days. The pain just seemed to continue like tearing away the layers of an onion one at a time. Surely the end would come soon; a time when the pain would be less.
Perhaps today after the funeral the lessening would start.
As if to add to her discomfort, the first rays of the morning sun broke over the ridge. Great streaks of light bathed the few low clouds, which hung on the horizon, in orange and red. Above them the half slice of moon still glowed, adding to the glory. Ella gasped at the beauty of it. Yet how could the dawning of Aden’s funeral day bring such magnificence?
She wanted to shout into the stillness and tell God He must intervene. This was too cruel, too unfeeling to let alone. Her world had been stripped of beauty, love, and desire and left bruised, broken, and undone. What right did this day have to display such beauty?
The clouds ought to hang their heads in shame, weep in great thunderclouds of grief, and drive winds across the fields as a token of the destruction she felt. Aden, the man who should have lived, whose children she should have borne, was dead, and all the sky could do was show this beautiful sunrise. She lifted her face and wept at the injustice of it all and at a God who would decree it so.
As if in answer, the sky in front of her increased its brilliant display, adding green and yellow to the color scheme. Ella watched, her face still uplifted toward the heavens. The caw of crows came from the distance. She heard the faint beat of horse’s hooves on the road, and a cow bellowed from the barn. Across the road a house door slammed.
A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 6
