The road stretched out in front of him. And then he remembered the bishop was still interested in Ella. For a moment there had been only Ella and him left in the whole world.
His head ached. Ella, too, is already spoken for. Why did I not visit the widow last week as planned? Perhaps her answer would have been different then. Instead I turned around like a sinner. Now I—Ivan Stutzman—am leaving for home empty handed. What a clumsy man I am when it comes to love, and surely Da Hah will punish me for the pursuit of my carnal desires.
Twenty-five
Ella fixed the girls a supper of mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and green beans in small quantities. It was a supper like she would prepare for real company. They were real company, even if they were only two small children and a baby.
“Baby Barbara only takes the bottle,” Mary said, pronouncing the words slowly. “She can’t eat the big stuff.”
“Maybe she’d like to taste it,” Ella said, taking the spoon and touching the tiny offering to the baby’s lips. She opened her mouth and then puckered up her face while her jaws toothlessly chewed.
”She’s never had that before,” Mary said, astonished. “She likes it!”
“I think she does,” Ella agreed, unable to keep the catch out of her voice. How sweet this little one is, and she’s been left totally in my care.
“Daett always gave her the bottle,” Mary said. Beside her Sarah nodded her head.
Ella laughed. Sarah didn’t have the slightest idea what was just said. Her head just went up and down. Her little white head covering had already slipped off for the night, and her long baby hair hung down over her shoulders.
“What about Susanna?” Ella asked.
Mary shook her head. “She didn’t.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have either.” Ella said, stricken with the thought. What is the correct age to start babies on real food? Is it eight or nine months or more like a year?
“She likes it,” Mary said, interrupting her thoughts.
Obviously this is true, but is it safe? I certainly don’t want a sick baby—or worse—on my hands! But baby Barbara had now replaced the puckered look with one of enjoyment. Her mouth was open again. Ella took a deep breath, stuck the spoon in the mashed potatoes, touched it to the gravy, and then slipped the spoonful into the waiting open mouth.
Mary threw her head back and laughed. Sarah imitated the motion and let her own laugh bubble out of her throat. Ella finally joined in. She felt bold, alive, and deeply moved by these three, and the emotion startled her. Is this what it’s like to be a mother and have children like Aden would have given me?
Quickly she wiped baby Barbara’s mouth. I can’t get too attached. They go back home soon and will eventually live with the woman Preacher Stutzman will marry.
“Shall we help with the dishes?” Mary asked.
“You’re a little young,” Ella said.
“Sometimes we help Daett. We really do.”
“You help Daett?” Ella asked and left the rest unsaid. It is simply impossible to imagine—the sight of Preacher Stutzman with his hands in the dishwater bowl and a little girl on a chair beside him. Is the man from Sunday’s fiery sermon really capable of such a task?
Mary nodded. “Sarah wants to help, but she’s too small.”
“I guess she is,” Ella’s said with another catch in her voice.
“I’m not,” Sarah said loudly. “I’m big!”
“Why don’t you both help, then?” Ella said, seeking compromise. Neither would be of much help, but the gesture was what mattered.
Ella heated the water on the stove and transferred the dirty dishes to the counter. She set the baby on a blanket on the kitchen floor. She kicked her feet, raised her hands into the air, and watched Ella’s every move. Mary was already dragging a chair across the floor, and Ella completed the task by grabbing another one for Sarah. Ella helped little Sarah up while Mary made the jump onto her own.
“Do this first,” Ella said, demonstrating by scraping the first dish.
“I already know how,” Mary said, taking the next plate.
“It still doesn’t hurt to show you again,” Ella said. “You scrape the dishes, I’ll wash and rinse them, and Sarah can dry them.”
Sarah clutched the cloth in both hands. Ella expected her to get bored quickly and quit, even with the few dishes they had to do. But as she washed, both girls stayed on the chairs and worked alongside her. The baby stuck her finger in her mouth, rolled onto her side, and rather seemed to enjoy the whole thing.
“Now we’re done,” Ella said, holding the last dish up in triumph.
“I want more to wash,” Mary said. “Can we eat again, so there’s more?”
Ella laughed and shook her head. Her voice was not to be trusted at the moment. These are not only little girls without a mother, they are incredibly sweet little girls.
“You are both such dears,” Ella said, giving them both a hug at the same time, one in each arm. “Do you help like this at home?”
“Yah,” Mary said, “but not like you just let us. This is more fun.”
Ella’s throat was tight with emotion, but she quickly found her voice to ask, “Not even with your Aunt Susanna? Isn’t it fun to wash dishes for her?”
“She just works,” Mary said. “Big work, and we can’t help with big work.”
“Well, it’s time you started. Now off to bed, all three of you.”
“I’m going to like it here,” Mary said, and Sarah nodded vigorously beside her.
“That’s good,” Ella said, smiling. “We’ll all sleep downstairs for the first few nights. Then we have to move upstairs. I have some more people comin’. They’re a young couple who are just gettin’ married.”
“Will you get more little girls so we can play with them?” Mary asked while her eyes searched Ella’s face.
“No, just you,” Ella said, smiling through the tears that stung her eyes. Her breath caught at the aloneness and the lost look she saw in Mary’s face. She gathered both girls in her arms, pulled them to the couch beside her, and quickly brushed the tears from her eyes. “Shall I read you a story?”
They both nodded, nestling tight against her. On the floor, the baby rolled toward them and came to rest on the blanket.
“What story?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t really have any storybooks here. Mamm and Daett have lots of them at home.”
“Then you can tell us one,” Mary said with confidence.
“I suppose so,” Ella said, searching for an appropriate subject. There were stories from her schooldays, still vivid in her mind. “I know what. I’ll tell you the story of a little boy’s midnight test.”
“What is midnight?” Mary asked.
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“When it’s really dark?”
“Yah,” Ella said, suddenly unsure this was an appropriate story because it was set in the darkest of nighttime. But Mary was leaning against her and didn’t seem alarmed. Ella glanced at Sarah and then drew a long breath. She would have to keep her eyes open for the first signs of discomfort.
“There were these school boys. They were a lot bigger than you but not really big yet. They had a tree house where they got together on Saturday afternoons. They played games, had fun, and talked. One day they formed a club. It was supposed to be a brave group, and no other boys could join unless they passed the test—a test that had to be done at midnight.”
“What’s a test?” Mary asked, moving against Ella’s side.
Ella ran her fingers over Mary’s cheeks. “When you get to school, you’ll learn. There they give tests to you on paper, and you have to write down the correct answers. If you get enough of them correct, you pass. But this was not to be a paper test. This test had just one question: Are you brave enough? You had to pass the test with a perfect grade.”
“Yah,” Mary said, seeming to understand.
“Soon another boy wanted to join. His name was Mark. He g
rew up on his parents’ farm where his father milked cows. He had grown strong from all the hard work. Mark was a big boy and very brave. In school he heard about the tree house, the club, and the test that had to be passed in order to join. He went to the boys one Saturday and asked them if he could take the midnight test.
“The other boys told him what he had to do—at midnight, of course—and Mark said that was no problem. He had done other things just as scary and hadn’t been afraid. The boys smiled at each other and told him the story of Roman Miller. Big, strong Roman Miller was from the other church district and had tried last week to pass the test. He had failed. Did Mark think he was better than Roman Miller? Mark hung his head at the news but still showed up on that specific night as planned. No moon shone that night, making it really dark, just as the boys had intended. Mark was allowed to find his way with a little flashlight but wondered what they were up to. Surely they wouldn’t scare him with the dark.”
“I would have been scared too,” Mary said, pressing her head tight against Ella’s shoulder.
“Me too,” Ella said, glancing at both girls. They didn’t seem overly alarmed, just observant.
“This was what Mark was told to do. He was supposed to take a kitten into the woods—the Miller’s deep dark woods. There, a little ways across the field, he was to leave the little kitten at a cabin they all knew about. The boys had tied a white flag with a note on the door of the cabin. Mark was to bring the flag and note back. The kitten had to stay there. The boys said this was very important. Mark couldn’t bring back a note he had written himself because he didn’t know what the note said. The test was to see if Mark could go into the dark woods all by himself.
“So he started out with the kitten under his arm. Then he put the little animal into his coat pocket to keep safe. The night was really black, but Mark wasn’t scared. He walked bravely right into the woods. An owl hooted above him, but Mark wasn’t afraid and kept on.
“He finally found the cabin with the flag hanging on the doorknob. Mark pulled the kitten out of his coat pocket and set the little guy on the ground. The kitten mewed at him, making a quiet little sound among the big tall trees. Mark petted the kitten and explained what he had to do. He told the kitten that this was a test and that someone would surely come along soon. The flag and the note had to be taken back to the tree house.
“As Mark started to leave, he looked back one more time. The little kitten stood by the door, mewed loudly, and tried to follow him. He ran quickly into the trees, so the kitten couldn’t follow, but then he stopped. Mark suddenly knew he couldn’t do this. This was very wrong to leave the kitten out here in the dark woods all alone. By the morning, the kitten would have walked far away from the cabin and gotten lost.
“But what about the test? Mark so wanted to pass the test. After school he wanted to go with the other boys to the tree house, talk with them, play their games, and be part of their club. ‘I have to pass the test,’ Mark told himself and turned away again. He had taken only a few steps when he stopped again. He just couldn’t leave the kitten alone in the woods.
“Mark almost cried when he ran back, grabbed the kitten again, and tucked the little thing back into his coat pocket. The little kitten mewed, but Mark didn’t think long about that. He had failed the test. Now the other boys would think he wasn’t good enough and that he hadn’t been brave enough to leave the kitten there, even when he came back with the flag and note. Mark said, ‘Well, I’ll show them. They can just have their old tree house if they want it. I’m not going to leave a kitten out there even if it means I can never join the boys’ club.’
“Out of the woods Mark ran, quickly finding his way back to the other boys. He showed them the note and the flag…and then he pulled the kitten from his pocket and said, ‘You can have your tree house. Anyone who would leave a kitten alone in the woods is not a good friend to have anyway.’
“To Mark’s surprise, the boys began to cheer. They slapped him on the back and shook his hand. ‘You have passed!’ they said.
“‘But I didn’t leave the kitten,’ Mark said, feeling very puzzled.
“‘That was the test,’ said all of them at the same time. ‘We don’t want any boys to join us who can leave kittens in the woods at night—even to pass a test. You are a brave boy, indeed.’
“‘You mean I really passed?’ Mark asked, still unable to believe it.
“‘You have,’ they said, slapping him on the back some more. ‘Now you’re one of us.’
“‘Wow!’ Mark said, feeling like he would cry right then and there. ‘What a strange test that was.’
“‘But a good one,’ they said, and Mark had to agree. It really was a good test.”
“I want a kitten,” Mary said in a sleepy voice. “A nice kitten like that.”
“Don’t you have any in the barn?” Ella asked. “Every barn has some cats.
“I don’t know,” Mary said, leaning her head against Ella’s shoulder.
“I think you’d best go to bed now. Sarah’s already asleep.” Ella said, standing up and lifting Sarah into her arms. Mary followed her into the bedroom where Ella tucked them both in. Back in the living room, the baby kicked her legs, still wide awake. Ella changed her, warmed the bottle, and rocked her gently. Her eyes soon closed, and Ella gently lowered her into the crib. Thankfully she didn’t stay awake all night. This evening is, at least, a good start, even if much trouble lay ahead. With children, trouble always comes at some point, doesn’t it?
Ella stood, looking at the sleeping baby. Why is the world so full of trouble?
Twenty-six
Ella checked around the house one last time and turned off the gas lantern hanging from the kitchen ceiling. The light from the kerosene lamp in the bedroom flickered faintly. Its beams reached just outside the doorway. Why do I feel so tense, as if danger is around somewhere? It’s probably just the extra responsibility of the girls’ care.
With one last check around the room, Ella turned the lamp in the bedroom on low, as far down as the wick would go before it smoked. She took a deep breath, climbed into bed, and fell into a fitful sleep.
With a start she awoke in the darkness. What time is it? The alarm clock was out of reach and turned away from her. The lamp still flickered on the dresser. Neither of the girls made any noise in the bed beside her, and the baby was quiet in the crib.
It had been a dream—but even more vivid than usual. Buggies were parked in the wide field behind the barn. She had hoped the outcome would be different this time, but this dream ended the same way her other dreams had ended. When she could finally see the faces of the bride and groom, they were of the bishop and herself.
Ella clutched the quilt and struggled to breathe. Why does marriage to the bishop so frighten me? Have I not made peace in my heart that this is Da Hah’s will? My parents approve. Can they really be so wrong? Is the sermon by Preacher Stutzman not from God?
The flickering light cast crazy shadows on the bedroom walls. Somehow I have to make peace with this. Love can’t be so filled with fear, grip my heart with such terror, and come for no reason whatsoever. Perhaps others can live so, but I cannot. My heart will never allow this.
“Dear God,” she whispered, pushing the covers back, “please help me.”
Careful not to awaken the girls, she crept into the living room. The night was so dark that only the faint outlines of the house windows could be seen. Like the bedtime story about Mark who had set out to be brave and pass the test, is this my test? Has Da Hah moved on me to tell the story so I can learn from its lessons and move through my fears?
“Oh God,” she prayed. “I am not brave, and I don’t know what to do.” She considered kneeling for such a formal petition but then thought maybe comfort would come from the stars, from the open heavens above her as she prayed. There was no one to see if she walked outside in her night clothes, and so Ella stepped out the door, past the porch roof to a view of the clear night sky, and then farther on down to t
he gravel drive.
Here it would be safe to speak with the Almighty, even if she had no husband to guide her. Oh, if Daett or Eli—even with his stubbornness—were in the house behind me. How their presence would comfort and soothe my nerves.
The gravel slid under her slippers, and the stars blazed gloriously over her head. She turned and looked back to the house—her house. This was where she belonged—in this house. That much was certain. With that certainty, her fears began slipping away.
“Aden,” she whispered. Tears formed and felt cool on her cheeks in the slight breeze. “You are with God, now that you left me. You were called away from this earth. Why? I don’t know, but it must have been for a good reason. Is heaven up there somewhere? Can you see me now? Could the angel that took you to God come back to help me out? Would that be possible?”
Ella trembled. The blaze of stars above her looked as if they were ready to answer. They appeared to be producing a being clothed in white who, perhaps, was ready to take her away like Elijah of old in a chariot of fire. She barely dared breathe as she waited. Will I see Aden again? Great happiness swelled up in her heart. Laughter was ready to come out of her mouth. Am I about to see heaven?
Great ages had passed since she had seen Aden, sensed his joy, or felt the warmth of his arms around her. Was this now to be again? Ella lifted her arms skyward as if they moved all on their own. Heaven was more possible in that moment than it ever had been.
Ella waited. The stars twinkled but her arms grew suddenly weary. No, there would be no chariot of fire, no angel, and no Aden to snatch her away. She must remain simple Ella, caught up in her troubles on the earth, alone outside her house in her night clothes, and anyone who drove by would surely think she had lost her mind.
“I’m not brave,” she whispered. The tears came, and the sobs racked her chest. “I can’t face this dark world alone. How am I to go on with life—even if it’s lived in Da Hah’s will? How am I ever to marry the bishop?”
Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2) Page 15
