“What I came for, yah—” he began, taking a deep breath. “Well, first of all, when Aden passed away, he left a large sum of money. Most of it he planned to use for his house. Well, his and Ella’s.”
Daett and Mamm nodded, and Ella felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her parents’ faces were impossible to read.
“Only now that he’s gone and the money and land are still here, I want to speak about what is to be done with the money.”
“But weren’t there hospital bills?” Daett asked, clearing his throat.
“They are all paid off,” Daniel said, “and I believe I know what Aden would have wanted the rest of the money used for.”
“You have spoken with your mamm and daett,” Noah asked, “about this matter?”
Daniel nodded. “I have. We spoke last night and before that, as well. Mom wanted to wait at first, but now they have agreed.”
“And Ella?” Daett asked.
“I have spoken to her.”
“Does she agree with this plan, which you think Aden would have wanted? I don’t want my daughter to have money that is not hers to receive.”
“It’s not money,” Daniel said. “She would receive very little—if any—of the money. What we believe—my parents and I—is that Aden would still have wanted the house built for Ella. It should be hers—that and the land.”
“A house?” Mamm asked. “But Ella’s not married. A girl cannot be livin’ alone like that.”
“But I’ll be twenty-one,” Ella protested. “I can rent part of it out, if it comes to that, or have someone live with me.”
“I see you have thought much of this already,” Daett said. His words came slowly. “Yet you have not spoken to us about it.”
“It has not been that long since Daniel mentioned it,” Ella said, her heart sinking.
“It is what we as a family want,” Daniel said, choosing his words carefully. “Mamm and Daett and I. It is also what Aden would have wanted. I hope you do not hold this against Ella because this might be Da Hah’s gift to her to help her move on with life.”
Ella could see her father almost bite his lip, as if words pushed to come out. No doubt he wished to tell Daniel his daughter was recently spoken for and that no more care was needed. Yet he said nothing, and his face did seem to soften after a moment.
“There has been much suffering lately,” he finally said. “We must not be adding more to it. Do you want this, Ella? Does your heart really desire it?”
“Yah,” she said as guilt gripped her heart. It felt like betrayal since her father had no way of knowing what she really wanted the house for. She managed a weak smile.
“What do you think, Lizzie?” Daett asked.
She turned to Daniel and asked, “Will this house be paid for? All of it?”
“It will,” Daniel said. “There’s enough money and, perhaps, a little left over.”
“It couldn’t be much,” Daett protested.
“No,” Daniel said, smiling, “not much.”
“Then this can be done,” Daett decided suddenly. “We must not stand in the way. Don’t you think so, Lizzie?”
“I hate to see my daughter…all grown up and gone,” she replied, sighing.
“It is the way of Da Hah,” Daett said, turning to Daniel. “So when can this house be built?”
Daniel leaned forward. “Because of our other work, this should be done soon.”
“Then life must move on, and Ella’s must too.” Noah nodded his approval and seemed to relax back into his chair.
Ella felt a great joy rise up inside of her. The wonder of this turn of events thrilled her. Then just as quickly, her spirits fell again as she remembered why she might need the house and that Aden would never share it with her. To drive her dark thoughts away, she turned to Daniel.
“I must show you the drawing,” she said. She went upstairs to get Clara’s house picture and returned to the living room. She held it up on her lap and showed it to Daniel.
“Is this what you want?” He took the drawing from her, his eyes fixed on it.
“Yah,” she nodded, “I want the house as Clara drew it.”
“It’s gut,” he agreed, “and it’s easy to build, I must say. It’s a real nice Amish house.”
“That’s what I thought!” Ella said, laughing for the first time.
“It is gut,” Noah said over their shoulders.
Ella noticed her mother didn’t come close and that she had wiped a tear from her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Mamm whispered. “Just too much goin’ on, I guess. So many new things, and now you’re leavin’.”
“I’ll still be your daughter,” Ella said, putting her arm around her mom.
“Well, I really should be goin’ now,” Daniel said, getting up. “I will take this with me, then. Is that okay, Ella?”
Ella nodded, and he left silently out the front door. Moments later they heard his buggy rattle out the driveway.
“I heard all that,” Dora said, sticking her head through the doorway.
“We weren’t hiding anything,” Mamm said. “You could have come out if you wanted to.”
The stair door opened behind them, and Clara came in.
“What did he want?” she asked.
“Ella’s buildin’ a house,” Dora said, “and Preacher Stutzman’s wife died in childbirth this very afternoon. When it rains, it pours, if you ask me. Now at least the cloud no longer hangs over our heads. That will make this the third death.”
“You sound so…cheerful,” Daett said. “It’s not just numbers, Dora. One of our men has lost his beloved wife, and we should all weep with him.”
“Yah, Daett,” Dora said, her voice contrite, “I guess I got carried away.”
“Are you done with the kitchen?” Ella asked.
Dora nodded. “There wasn’t that much left to do anyway.”
“Will someone pay some attention to me?” Eli hollered from the bedroom. “All you do all night is talk and talk, and no one comes to take care of me. And what did Daniel want anyway?”
Mamm went into the bedroom while Ella and Dora left for upstairs. Dusk had already fallen, and the evening was getting on. At the top of the stairs, Dora stopped in Ella’s room and shut the door behind her. Ella couldn’t find a match, and she groped around for a moment before her fingers found one. It struck on the first try, and the flame quickly transferred to the wick. With the glass chimney back on, the lamp filled the room with a soft glow as Dora sat down on the bed.
“I’m not leavin’ until I get the whole story,” she declared. “Mamm may not know everything, but I’m going to find out. I’m getting to the bottom of this little well of water.”
“What you know already is enough,” Ella said firmly.
“It’s not. Something is up. I can smell it in the air, even with my own nose off the ground. You’re hiding something.”
“What if I’m not,” Ella asked, “and you’re just worryin’ about nothing?
“You’re leaving. I’ll be the oldest sister at home. I deserve to know what goes on.”
“Well…” Ella wavered, drawn in by Dora’s logic. With Dora’s eyes on her, she gave in. “Okay, then, but you’d best not tell Mamm and Daett, at least not until it’s time. In fact, best not till you ask me if you can talk. I don’t trust your thinkin’ on the matter.”
“That’s fair. Tell me.”
Ella glanced around and then lowered the shade for what reason she wasn’t certain, but it seemed the right thing to do. Her voice low, she began. She told Dora about Eli, about the bishop, and about what the house really was for. “Now you’d better tell no one,” she concluded.
“So what if Daett could save Eli from this Englisha girl?” Dora asked.
“So much the better, but Eli’s bullheaded,” Ella said. “He will come to see his own mistake. I cannot but think this will turn out okay.”
“You’re a good sister,” Dora said. She stood to go and walked over to pull up the blind. �
��That was no use,” she said with a smile. “Goodnight, now.” She gave Ella a big hug.
When the door shut, Ella blew out the light. In the solid darkness of the night, she slipped under the covers.
Thirty-eight
Ella rode to the viewing with Dora in the single buggy. In front of them, their mamm and daett were in the surrey with Clara and the younger girls. Monroe had stayed home with Eli, who hobbled outside for the first time that day. The mischief those two might get into at home together gave Ella a shudder. Dora and Mamm had baked cinnamon rolls, and the three plates of them were stored in the cupboard for Saturday and Sunday. Ella could well imagine an entire plate of rolls gone by the time they returned even though Eli and Monroe already had hefty servings for supper. But the evening’s occasion was sacred, and so perhaps this would carry over to Monroe and Eli’s attitude about things.
Ahead of them a sea of buggies were parked behind Preacher Stutzman’s barn. Ella waited for the familiar stab of pain and for the memories from the recent past to tumble back into her heart. She was surprised when the feelings didn’t come. Perhaps she was healing.
“Glad it wasn’t one of the young people to finish out the third one,” Dora said as they pulled up to park behind their mom and dad’s buggy.
“It was someone’s wife and someone’s mamm,” Ella reminded her, thinking of the three small Stutzman girls left behind. She had vague memories of them, lost in the sea of faces from many families. They would be here tonight, pain and bewilderment in their hearts—a feeling Ella knew only too well.
“Still I’m glad it wasn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair at all since we already lost two of our own.”
“You’d best leave those decisions to Da Hah,” Ella said, getting down to unhitch.
“Suppose so,” Dora said, her voice muffled from the other side of the buggy.
Ella led her horse toward the barn, with Dora behind her. She wondered how she would get inside without one of her brother’s present to accompany her. The crush of horses was a challenge to navigate and not one she relished. Daett will help me, no doubt, if I want to wait while he takes his horse inside first. No, that would draw too many curious glances—a girl standing and waiting alone with her horse. One of the boys is sure to offer help—but exactly which boy matters. It might be perfectly harmless, but after the bishop’s visit the other evening, Ella’s nerves had not returned to normal.
Just then her dad motioned with his hand. “I can take both horses in, yah,” he whispered with a smile. “It’s a little rough inside for my daughter.”
Ella gave him the reins just as a boy she didn’t know came out of the barn. He saw her dad leading two horses and took one from him. She would have offered him a grateful smile if he had glanced in her direction. Seconds later, she caught herself. Smiles to boys, whether stranger or not, might be very unwise at the moment.
With Dora in the lead, they followed their mom past the long line of men and boys. They were just a sea of black pants and shoes to Ella because she kept her head down. What if Bishop Miller was in the line somewhere, his gaze following her? She almost stumbled but caught herself just in time.
Ella took deep breaths. Her face under her bonnet must be brighter than a beet. Hopefully the line of men would just see her as another girl passing by, a little clumsy but still a decent girl. In a moment the house would be reached, and the bonnet removed. Then they would know that she was Ella Yoder.
Thankfully the line of women just outside the door of the washroom was long enough to get rid of the red face. Ella removed her bonnet and shawl as she stepped into the utility room, keeping her face toward the house just in case. She left her wraps on the pile and got in the line moving slowly toward the bedroom where the body was. Two small girls were seated on the bench in the kitchen just outside the bedroom door. They must be Preacher Stutzman’s girls since he sat with them, his arms around the shoulder of the oldest. The youngest, her head in his lap, was asleep.
Ella’s eyes fixed on the oldest girl, her face so forlorn and tear stained. Her sister and her dad were exhausted. Preacher Stutzman’s beard was unkempt, his hair was uncombed, and his eyes were red and swollen. Ella searched the face of the man. He wasn’t the dreaded Preacher Stutzman—the terror of a hundred fierce sermons and the harsh voice at Aden’s funeral—but a dad and husband, broken in his sorrow.
She gasped. This was different than her loss, but the hearts involved had equally been rent in two. Heads turned toward her, drawn by her display of emotion, but their questions turned to understanding when they saw who she was. She could almost hear their thoughts, their sympathy.
Ella wanted to take the little girls in her arms, comfort them, and tell them that everything would be okay, but, of course, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper, and they didn’t know her. No doubt they had aunts on both sides of the family who had done that very thing with about as much success as she would have. A heart so broken could not be hurried or made better quickly.
The line moved forward, and Ella followed. Inside the casket, she saw the face of Lois, pale, drawn, and at peace. Ella thought Lois looked much older than she must be as a mother of only three young girls. But at least she had a husband and children before she was called away. Aden and she had been denied that.
Yet, Da Hah knew what He was up to, and she must trust Him. He certainly had helped out in her situation. There was no question there. Who would have thought that Aden would leave enough money behind to build a house, a house she now desperately needed. Aden’s mom and dad could have said no. And Daniel could have refused too. Even her own parents could have resisted. All in all, there was little doubt Da Hah’s hand had been in this.
As the line moved out to the kitchen, Ella considered that truly the One in the heavens gives and takes away all for His own reasons. She took a seat on the bench beside her cousin who had helped out at the youth garden project. Across from them, Arlene, Daniel’s girlfriend, sat. Ella nodded and smiled when Arlene turned around to glance at her.
In the stillness of the room, her cousin leaned toward Ella and whispered, “Did you hear the news about the angels?”
“No,” Ella said.
“Arlene just told me a real tender story. I guess now they can tell it around. They didn’t want to before this, lest they cause more fear than there already was. Arlene’s brothers, Norman and Mervin, saw three angels in the sky just after Aden’s funeral. They were flyin’ low, one after the other. One left toward heaven, but two of them stayed. I suppose they were waitin’ for the souls of the departed. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”
“Oh,” Ella said, not surprised. The story didn’t sound any stranger than the smile she had felt come from the sky the other night. That would stay a secret, though. Angels—now that was something everyone could understand.
Arlene must have heard their conversation because she turned around. “It’s true,” she whispered. “We were keepin’ it a secret, though Daniel was told. He thought it best if we kept the story quiet. A lot of our people were mighty scared already, but this ought to build their trust in Da Hah’s doin’s, don’t you think?”
Ella nodded and said with what bravery she could muster, “I guess so, though the pain is still there. But it’s good to know that your loved ones are in the arms of angels.”
“I can understand a little,” Arlene smiled in sympathy. “I can’t quite imagine losin’ my Daniel, though. But they say there is grace for every trial. Da Hah helps even when He takes away.”
“Poor little girls.” Ella motioned with her head toward where Preacher Stutzman sat. The youngest daughter had now awakened and leaned against him. Her face was wrinkled from her dad’s pant leg, bewilderment in her eyes.
“Ach, one could cry all night,” Arlene said with a catch in her voice.
“Yah, one could,” Ella’s cousin echoed. “The angels do leave much sorrow behind.”
“Da Hah will comfort them, yah,” Arlene said. “He’ll send them an
other mamm maybe. They are so sweet and so lost by themselves.”
Ella felt too choked up to say anything, but the two seemed to understand her silence. In front of her, Dora and Mamm got up and moved toward the front door because of the swell of people behind them. When Ella stood up, her cousin stood too and followed her to the door.
Outside, the line of men and boys was less, but Ella still kept her eyes on the ground. She was still fearful about seeing Bishop Miller around somewhere. She had forgotten about him once she was inside the house and now was thankful that he didn’t live in their district. That would have been simply awful.
She would have had to listen to and look at him while he preached on Sundays. If she didn’t, people would notice. One could only keep one’s gaze lowered to the floor for so long, especially when a minister spoke. People would soon put two and two together or think her strange, which might even be worse.
At the barn, her dad brought her horse out first. Dora climbed into the buggy after they got the horse hitched and tried the lights first thing. Her sigh of relief when the lights flashed on made Ella laugh. “Surely, you don’t think I’d have driven this thing twice without a battery.”
“Yah,” Dora said, “but not on purpose, of course.”
“I didn’t check tonight,” Ella admitted, “but I did put one in after last time.”
“See what I mean?” Dora settled back on the seat. “At least we have one now. That’s good enough for me. You scared me so bad last time that I just about couldn’t sleep all night.”
“That was a bad one,” Ella agreed. “We can be thankful nothing serious happened.”
When they crossed the little creek bottom, fog hung thick along the roadside. The buggy lights did little to penetrate the dark gloom. Dora’s voice trembled, “I’m glad the three deaths are over with. Nothing will happen to us now.”
“Did you hear the angel story?” Ella asked.
“Yah. Do you think it’s true?”
“Of course. Aden’s in heaven. I know that.”
“I hope he thinks about us poor creatures still left on this earth,” Dora muttered, putting her head outside of the buggy into the thick fog.
A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 24
