Ruth burst into laughter at the idea. “Then maybe I won’t ever marry.”
Ella smiled. Then that will mean two of us Yoder women will stay single. She took a kerosene lamp with her from the utility room shelf and headed downstairs. Carefully she lit the flame, set the lamp on the shelf, and continued the tiny stitches.
Perhaps it was the outline of the house, the memories of what they meant, or the news from this morning, but the tears soon came. So many trickled down her cheeks—thick and heavy—she had to stop and find a handkerchief.
Does David feel now the way I had felt? He must even though he is younger and a man. Surely his heart aches the same. Men are not immune from pain, she felt sure. She longed to put her arms around her cousin and tell him everything would be okay, but how was that possible? She didn’t even know herself whether such a thing was true.
There were moments with her family when she forgot about the pain and could even laugh. Yet moments like this showed that the wound was still there. Her fingers lifted the needle and then paused as the tears blinded her eyes. She wiped them away and studied the quilt pattern for a long moment.
For reasons she couldn’t understand, Clara’s image of the house soothed her. Maybe it was because Clara cared so much—enough to draw the picture and insist that she use it.
Ella moved her needle through the quilt and then suddenly stopped to listen. The low murmur of an unfamiliar male voice came from upstairs, apparently in conversation with Mamm. She hadn’t heard anyone arrive. With her eyes just dry from tears and likely still red, she didn’t want to see anyone, especially unknown males. She continued to stitch.
The door suddenly opened at the top of the stairs, and Mamm’s voice called down. “Ella, there’s someone here to see you.”
She stood in surprise, but before she could move toward the stairs, the male voice said, “I’ll just talk with her downstairs.”
Ella now recognized the voice. It was Aden’s brother Daniel. But why does he want to speak with me?
“I can come up,” she offered, considering that they might be more comfortable upstairs in her mother’s company.
“I’ll be comin’ down,” Daniel said, his voice now muffled since he was already in the stairwell. Behind him Mamm said something Ella couldn’t make out.
“Good morning,” she said, though Daniel’s face was only dimly visible in the soft lamplight. The resemblance to Aden was there, faint but distinct. Yet the realization of it caused an unexpected pang.
“I’m sorry to be disturbing you,” Daniel said. “It’s just that there’s something I need to be talkin’ to you about.”
“Oh?” was all she could muster. What can he possibly have to say to me?
He fumbled for the chair she offered him. “I’m so clumsy.”
She smiled and sat down when he did.
He cleared his throat. “Ella, I know it must still be very hard for you, what with Aden not gone that long yet.”
“Somehow, it almost seems like years,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I know you loved him too.”
“I did.” He nodded and seemed to relax.
Ella blew her nose, suddenly comfortable in his presence. She had never been around Daniel much, just at his parents’ house when she and Aden had been there. He had been kind to her that hazy morning of the funeral. Now that she was fully aware of him, it struck her how different he was from Aden. It comforted her in a strange way. Somehow it would have felt wrong to find someone who was just like Aden but wasn’t him at all. She managed another smile in Daniel’s direction.
He spoke again. “Did you hear about Aden’s horse?”
“No. What happened?”
“The horse got into the feed on Sunday mornin’. It got swelled up pretty bad and didn’t survive.”
“Oh, no!” she said and then added, “Perhaps it missed Aden.” The picture had flashed in her mind of the grand horse she had seen so many times from her vantage point inside Aden’s buggy. In a way, it seemed appropriate the horse had joined its master in death.
“It was a grand horse,” Daniel said, but Ella sensed he didn’t share her idea about missing Aden.
“That it was,” she said.
“I hope it’s not too early for this,” Daniel said, fumbling with his hands. “Mamm wanted me to wait for a while yet, and I suppose that might have been the right thing to do. I didn’t tell them I was coming over, but it just seemed to me you should know about what Aden wanted you to have.”
Ella couldn’t have been more puzzled and searched Daniel’s face. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“Did Aden and you ever talk about the house he was wanting to build for you?”
“Yah,” Ella said, “he was going to bring the plans over the Sunday after he passed.” At this, she began to tear up again. How could she not. It was her dream house—their dream house.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, getting to his feet. He took her hand and wrapped it in both of his.
She would never have let any other boy do this, but this was Daniel. He loved his brother as she had loved him.
She gripped both of his hands with hers. Daniel said nothing. The moments passed slowly in silence.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Daniel said. “Mamm was right. I’m sorry, Ella. That’s the way I am. I just do things, and they don’t always turn out for the best. This all can wait till sometime later.” He turned to go.
“Later won’t make it any easier,” she told him. “I’ll listen to what you have to say now.”
He turned back and halted a moment and then took his seat again as Ella took hers. A light seemed to go on in Daniel’s eyes as he confessed, “Aden was much better at these things than I am.”
“You’re doing okay, Daniel. Go on.”
He relaxed a bit and started afresh. “Okay, then, here goes. As you know, Aden planned to build a house for you. He had the money all saved and the land purchased. If I understood him correctly, he would have started late this spring.”
“That sounds about right.” Ella nodded.
“Well, the money is still there. There’s enough money to build the house even after we pay his hospital bill. The hospital will settle for a smaller amount than normal because we’ll pay in cash. Anyway, I know Aden would have wanted you to have the rest of the money.”
“Oh, no,” Ella replied, recoiling at the thought. “It’s not mine. We weren’t married.”
“But Aden wanted you to have it.” Daniel looked at her, his face intense. “He wanted you to have the land, the money, and the plans. And I could build you the house…if you still want it.”
“You? For nothing?” She looked carefully at him.
“No,” he said. “Even Aden was going to pay me to help. I can do the work for you the same as I would have for him.”
Ella’s head spun. “Daniel, I don’t know. With Aden gone, I don’t know if I’d want to live in it without him. Plus, I’m still single. What business does a single woman have with a house?”
“I have the plans,” he said, his face hopeful.
Ella felt herself pull back. She didn’t want, without Aden, what would have been theirs together.
“I don’t want to see them. Really, I don’t,” she said forcefully.
“I’m sorry,” he stood, his face now fallen. “I’m clumsy like that.”
“Don’t go yet.” She stopped him with a raised hand. “Sit down…please. I’m not blaming you at all. Perhaps it’s just a bit too soon. But I am glad you told me about it. Even if the house is never built—I mean—you can sell the land, I’m sure. But it would have felt strange to hear about this down the road, as if you knew somethin’ and should have told me.”
“Danki,” he ventured. “I was just tryin’ to do what I thought Aden would have wanted.”
She met his eyes and knew he told the truth.
“Then should I just wait?” He stood again to go.
“Perhaps. I don’t know, though. Really, I d
on’t. Building a house…me?”
“Aden would have wanted it,” he said again with conviction as he turned to leave.
Ella watched him until his feet disappeared up the basement steps. He was so unlike Aden, and yet his heart was right.
The whole idea is so unlikely, but perhaps Daniel has a point. Still, the thought of looking at the plans Aden had drawn up is simply too much to even think about. I can’t do it.
Her hand reached for the needle again, and her eyes followed the line of the stitches. On and on they went until they formed the outline of a house, her house, her and Clara’s house on the quilt. The thoughts just leaped at her. Can this happen in real life? The thought took her breath away with its daring audacity. I don’t know if such a thing is even possible! This is definitely a matter that will simply have to wait.
Twenty-nine
“So what did Daniel want?” Mamm asked when Ella came upstairs.
“He was telling me about Aden’s property,” Ella said, not wanting to add any details. Her mom seemed satisfied with the meager answer.
“It’s chore time,” Mamm told her. “Clara’s out in the barn tonight, and remember we have to be leaving early.”
“Me too? Do I have to go? I thought you said—” Ella asked, leaning on the kitchen chair with both hands.
“I think you’d better come with us,” Mamm said. “I know it will be hard, but if you start avoiding the hard things in life now, life will only get harder.”
“Perhaps for just this one time?” Ella asked, searching her mamm’s face.
“Please?”
Mamm considered it a minute but then said, “Ella, I’m thinking of you, but I’m also thinking of the grieving family. Your presence there might be a big help to David and the others. If they can see that you have been able to survive, it might give them hope.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Ella said.
“I can do three cows tonight,” Clara shouted from the living room.
Ella smiled at her sister’s newfound confidence, and the two went upstairs to change. Dora passed them on the way down, already changed into her chore clothing.
“What was Daniel here for?” she asked. “He waved to Eli in the guest room but was obviously more interested in you.”
“He was telling me about Aden’s property,” Ella repeated her answer.
“Sounds fishy to me,” Dora said.
“He was just bein’ Daniel,” Ella said.
Dora shrugged, apparently satisfied.
When they had changed and were on their way to the barn, Ella asked Clara how school was going.
“Okay. We’re practicing the last day of school program.”
“How’s Paul?” she asked with a tilted smile.
Clara colored a little, “Teacher gave us—Amanda, Paul, and me—a poem-reading part in the program.”
“A nice poem?”
“Yah, Paul stands between the two of us, and we quote it in turns. Katie set it up that way.”
As they approached the barn, Ella relished in the familiar smell of the farm. It was so wonderful to return to what was safe, especially after Daniel’s visit. Could I actually dare have my own home without a husband? The idea itself seems impossible, let alone getting the approval from either set of parents!
Clara finished the first cow in record time, Ella noted with satisfaction. Her milk strokes were still unsteady, but the improvement had come quickly. When Clara finished the second cow before either Dora or she was done with their third, Ella allowed her to start another one. At the end, Ella switched with her and finished.
After choring was finished, supper was served. With their plans for the evening, the meal was rushed and with few words.
“Who’ll stay with Eli tonight?” Mamm asked. “Ella’s coming with us, after all.”
“I will,” Monroe spoke up.
“You?” Mamm sounded surprised. “I thought Dora might want to.”
Dora shrugged. “Let him. I don’t care.”
“I’ll still hitch up your horse,” Monroe said.
“Let’s get these dishes off the table, then,” Mamm said. “We have to get on the road soon.”
“Yah, I’ll go get the horses right away,” Daett said with a nod. Together he and Monroe got up and left for the barn to ready the two buggies.
“Eli, don’t you leave your bed—even with Monroe here.” Mamm left her last instruction for Eli, the girls already on the way out the door.
Ella expected Monroe to release their horse when Dora and she had climbed in, but he waited while their mom climbed in the second buggy. This took extra time, Ella knew, and she appreciated the effort. With Eli being so stubborn over this Englisha girl, it was good to see maturity in one of her brothers.
When their dad had passed them, Monroe released the bridle, and they were off. Ella gave him a wave of thanks as they went by. The road was fairly open until they got within a mile from the Beachy home. Then the long line of buggies began. At times they came to a complete halt, only to move slowly forward and stop again. Eventually they reached the turnoff and were directed into a field behind the barn to unhitch.
Ella pulled up beside her dad. They both got out of the buggies and began to unhitch the horses.
Dora glanced around quickly. “Looks like some of the others are just tying their horse to the back of the buggies,” she told Ella. “Apparently the barn is already full.”
Ella looked around and agreed with her. Several horses were already securely fastened to the buggy boxes. She did the same as her dad headed for the barn. He was braver than she was to face the packed barn of horses, but then he was a man.
The two walked across the pasture as fresh waves of pain rushed over Ella at the sight of the yard full of people. Dora noticed her sister’s discomfort, reached for her hand, and held it for a moment. Ella wished a thousand times she hadn’t come, but that wasn’t possible either. Attendance was expected. She only hoped that Mamm was right and that her presence there would give hope to those who felt the loss most.
In the yard the long line of people inched slowly forward. Ella thought it seemed like hours before they reached the living room. Inside the house, the line went into the bedroom and out again. Ella stepped back so she could be the last of her family in line. The furious ache in her chest didn’t go away, but she felt safer at the end, as if the position gave her some protection for what lay ahead.
When she reached the casket, Ella forced herself to look. Not to look would seem disrespectful. Inside, her whole body screamed in rebellion. It was too soon for her to have to behold another face in death. The obligation seemed more than should be expected of anyone.
Ella whispered a prayer for strength and stepped forward.
Melissa’s face looked peaceful enough. Her head covering had been carefully placed, and she wore her black dress. Ella forgot her hesitation during this moment of grief. Here before her lay a young girl, one whose hopes had been high, her love alive, and all this was taken from the world. The face wasn’t Aden, but the result was no different. In death, they were the same. Ella’s hands gripped the sides of the box for support, and she let her head fall forward as the sorrow came over her in great waves. Mamm stepped out of the line and came back to stand with her arms around Ella. Tightly she held her daughter until they were able to move forward together and shake hands with the family.
Eventually they stepped up to where the still-recovering David was seated. He stood awkwardly when she approached, and she gripped his hand with both of hers. She wanted to give him a hug and would have if this hadn’t been a public place, but even in the presence of death, tradition held firm.
The silence of the room had already been heavy. If possible, it now became greater as the people noticed Ella and David softly weeping in sympathy. Mamm had her arm around Ella, and David’s daett soon came and stood with him. Time seemed to stand still. Finally she found the strength to move on.
Mamm led Ella to a bench, a
nd Ella lowered herself down, her knees ready to buckle. Yet for some reason unknown to her, Ella felt strangely comforted, like the great gash in her heart had a few stitches placed across the wound. The thought repelled her, as if it violated Aden’s memory, but still Ella knew it was true. In her shared sorrow with another, she had felt a glimmer of wholeness. How that could be, or even should be, she couldn’t explain. Perhaps her coming had been a good idea. Good for both David and for her too.
The benches behind them filled up, and soon the pressure to make place for others became apparent. Mamm went over, spoke briefly to David’s mom, and then moved toward the front door. Ella stood to follow, and Dora did the same. Daett and the girls soon joined them in the yard.
The girls hitched their horse to the buggy while their dad was still in the barn, grappling with how to get his horse out. They waited patiently for him, and not until he had left, did they join the line of buggies driving out of the field. Ella held the reins tightly as they bumped out onto the road.
“So this was the second death,” Dora declared. “Part of the series everyone is expectin’.”
“I don’t think you should bring things like that up,” Ella said. “It’s not right…in some way.”
“What if there is something to it?”
“Then we can’t do anything about it.”
“One of the girls talked to me just before we left. She thought Eli might have really been the second one, but that he might have been spared.”
“I’m really not interested, Dora. I’ve had ‘bout all the pain I can take, and if Eli was spared, then so much the better.”
“I still think we should be prepared for the next one.”
“We all should be prepared, Dora. Each and every day, we should be. Isn’t that what the preachers say?”
“This is different. It’s like you have a real warning, something to see with your own eyes. It could even be me because it seems to follow the family—Eli, now Melissa, although probably not you. That wouldn’t make any sense at all.”
“Would you just stop thinking about this? It bothers me,” Ella said. Darkness had fallen, and Ella turned on the switch for the buggy’s low-beam lights. Her heart thudded when the lights didn’t come on.
A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 18
