Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  He had his reasons for why he was late, and that was just that, whether Ella understood them or not. With a pull of the line, he turned on to Chapman Road. The dim light from Ella’s living room window was just ahead. Framed around the glow of the lantern was the outline of the house. A shadowy fog crept over the soft rays from the window. The horse seemed to turn into the driveway on its own, which was disturbing. How does the animal remember the driveway from the few visits I’ve made?

  With the horse tied at the hitching post, Ivan knocked on the front door and was met with silence. He repeated the motion, louder this time. Surely Ella wouldn’t ignore me on purpose. Quick steps sounded from behind the closed door. So she is ignoring me. He got ready for Ella to open the door and noticed that his palms were sweaty. The confident words of excuse were all gone, long before the knob turned.

  “Good evening,” he said before the door was halfway open.

  “Yah,” a young woman said.

  “The girls,” he said, “I have come for them.” If only my voice wasn’t so weak, he thought as he kept his eyes directed at the doorknob.

  “They are in the basement,” the woman said in a sharp and strange voice.

  Is Ella irate with me, and why are the girls in the basement by themselves? “In the basement?” he asked, lifting his eyes to the face of the one who had been speaking and saw that she was not Ella. Who, then? Does she have visitors who answer her door?

  “Joe and I moved in this week,” the woman said, “and Ella gave us the first floor. She took the basement.”

  “Moved in?” Ivan exclaimed. He was confused and didn’t move from his spot in front of the open door.

  “Perhaps she didn’t tell you,” the woman said.

  Now she sounds amused! Ivan struggled to find his voice. “No, she didn’t tell me, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  “She’s down there,” the woman said, opening the door wider and pointing down the basement steps.

  “Yah,” he said, but she had already shut the door on him. Her steps faded away inside like hollow echoes, which finally were no more.

  With a deep breath, Ivan took the steps one at a time. A dim light came from the basement window and shined onto the concrete walk. He approached the door and carefully knocked on it. Inside he heard no footsteps, but the door opened at once.

  “Good evening,” he said through his tense throat.

  “Come in,” Ella said. “The girls are ready.”

  He nodded, stepped inside, and caught sight of Mary, who squealed with delight and ran toward him. Sarah wasn’t far behind. For the moment, he forgot all else, dropped his hat on the floor, caught them in his arms, and held them both tightly. Mary wiggled and protested first, and so he let her down. Sarah laid her head on his shoulder and clung to him.

  “I heard you knock upstairs,” Ella said, “but I didn’t get out before Ronda answered. I guess you didn’t know they had moved in.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” he said, “but that’s okay. It looks like you have plenty of room down here.” He looked around and took in the layout of the basement. It looks nice. Ella can obviously make even a basement look good. Lois could have also, but he pushed that thought away. This ability might be a trait all Amish women have, for all I know.

  His nervousness threatened to return. Behind him, his hat lay on the floor, and he bent over to pick it up.

  “Well,” Ella said, “here’s the girls’ bag. I packed it earlier. I didn’t know when you would come.”

  “I didn’t either,” he said, offering nothing more. Why should I explain to her?

  “Ella showed me how to eat,” Sarah said in his ear, distracting him.

  “She’s a nice mamm,” Mary said, tugging on his arm. “Can she go home with us?”

  Ivan looked down at the floor. What in the world am I supposed to say? Ella’s laugh went all the way through him.

  “I’m glad they liked being here,” she said.

  Thankfully she didn’t try to embarrass him, but his throat was dry. This might be the bishop’s wife-to-be, but she did take care of his girls. He smiled, nodded his head, and took a deep breath. “Did you have any problems this week?”

  “With the girls?” Ella asked. “No, they are really sweet. I had no problems at all.”

  “You need anything from the house? Maybe I can pay you each week?”

  Ella shook her head. “I’m okay, and the end of the month is fine. The girls are like little angels.”

  “You plan to continue, then?” he asked, feeling the words stick in his throat and hating himself for it. Somehow I’ll have to bring my emotions under control.

  “Oh,” she said, “of course. If you want to…up until you have the wedding.”

  He felt his face flush red.

  “Not that it’s any of my business,” she continued, “but the bishop said you had plans, and I have no problem with their care until that time. In fact, I would like it very much.”

  Ivan stroked his beard with trembling fingers. How in the world does the bishop know?

  As if she understood his unspoken question, Ella said, “I suppose he heard it from Susanna—and they do need a mamm.”

  “We have one now,” Mary said, pointing all of her fingers in Ella’s direction. The comment went ignored by both Ella and Ivan.

  “Ach, you know how people talk,” he said. “Susanna doesn’t always know everything.”

  “No, but I’m sure she’s right in that the girls do need a mamm,” she said. “A good one, but you know that, of course.”

  “I do,” he said. Perhaps she means nothing by this. Lois would have said the same words with that same look in her eyes. Women might be all the same around children they care about.

  “I don’t mean to interfere,” she said. “I really don’t. It is just that, of course, you want the best for the girls.”

  He brushed his hand over Mary’s head. “Would it be okay if I sat for a moment?”

  “Of course. I should have known you’d be tired.”

  He touched Mary on the shoulder. “Why don’t you girls go play for a little bit. It won’t be too long, and then we can go.”

  “We like to play here,” Mary said, smiling and moving away.

  He took the nearest chair, lowering his body gently down.

  “I don’t mean to take your time,” he said, “but perhaps I’d best explain myself.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “You really don’t. My concern for the girls was perhaps out of order. I’m sorry.”

  “No, your concern is very much in order,” he said. “It really is. See—” He choked a bit and cleared his throat. “I loved Lois. I never thought Da Hah would take her from me. Not even once did I consider it. I guess I took Lois for granted. I didn’t really know how much I loved her until we were on the way to the clinic. I knew then that I would never arrive in time and that she would die, but still I drove like a madman—because that’s all I could do.”

  What does she think of my weakness? It doesn’t matter. The words must be spoken. They must. “I think, perhaps, I have sinned before Da Hah with my love for Lois. Da Hah is a jealous God, great in might and power. He will take no place but the first. In this we cannot be too careful. So for now another wife seems not be Da Hah’s villa for me. I tell you this so you will know what to expect with the girls’ care…that it may be a longer time than we think.”

  He glanced at her, but she had her eyelids lowered, staring at the tabletop.

  “Before you had consented to take care of them, I didn’t know what to do. You don’t know how much you have answered the cry of my heart. I dared not even hope for someone to give them care. Now you do not only that, but you love them. Da Hah is truly a great and a merciful God—that is if we humble ourselves and walk in His will.”

  Did I say too much, and yet the relief is so real. This woman unarms me and opens my heart. Perhaps I had best go now before I say something I shouldn’t.

  “Yah, I unders
tand,” she said, watching him get to his feet.

  Her comment caught him off guard. Lois would have said exactly that.

  Ella continued, “I loved too. As much as you loved Lois, I loved Aden, and Da Hah has also taken him.”

  “Yah,” he said, turning back to his girls. I must go now.

  “I will take care of your girls until you wish otherwise,” she said in a calm and certain voice, as if the matter were completely settled and would never be raised again.

  “Come,” he said, bending over to pick up the baby and then the bag. With Mary and Sarah beside him, he walked to the front door. But he couldn’t leave like this. I have to say something, and yet can I stand to meet her eyes?

  “Here,” she said, lifting Sarah into her arms. “I’ll come with you out to the buggy. It’s dark outside already, and Sarah’s tired.”

  “I am,” Sarah said, nestling her head on Ella’s shoulder.

  Carefully he found his way up the steps. Mary walked beside him all the way out to the buggy. He laid the baby on the seat, lifted Mary up to her seat, and turned to take Sarah from Ella’s arms.

  “She’s almost asleep,” Ella whispered in the darkness.

  “Thank you…for everything,” he said. Surely the buggy lights didn’t show the feelings on his face.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, holding his horse while he climbed in and then letting go when he was ready.

  It was all unnecessary, but so were a lot of things about Ella. She had more graces than a morning sunrise or Da Hah’s most beautiful mountaintops.

  “Good night,” he said, slapping the reins.

  “Good night,” she said.

  Mary’s form was dimly lit by the buggy’s lights as he swept by and down the incline to the end of the driveway. The buggy bounced at the bump and then settled down. Beside him, Mary sat close, holding the baby. Sarah sat on the other side of her sister. The two pulled the buggy blanket snuggly around them to stay warm in the cool night air.

  How he wanted her to be with them. He wanted her sitting next to him and holding Sarah in her lap—and not left to walk back into the house alone. But how could it be otherwise? She belonged to someone else, and Da Hah was against him.

  Thirty-four

  The aloneness of the night wrapped itself around Ella as she walked slowly back to the basement. They were gone. The sound of Preacher Stutzman’s horse was faint in the distance. At least the girls loved their father. Their reaction to his arrival earlier spoke for itself. That was a sign that the man did have some soft spots in his life, even if he thundered in his Sunday sermons.

  Perhaps the man needs to talk to someone more often than he does. I’ve been glad to listen. It’s odd, but I find that the way he says his words, with the obvious brokenness in his voice, soothes my own pain. Well, he doesn’t need to be figured out. There are enough problems in life already.

  Ella stopped and turned her face upward to the heavens. The full moon hung heavy; low down like a weight in the sky and seemingly upheld by the wispy clouds beneath.

  Where is Aden tonight? In heaven, yes, but where is that? Does the Promised Land lay beyond the moon and stars? Is the only entrance death, and is it guarded by the angels? Death—so cold and dark—with the earth beneath her bare feet warm in comparison.

  Yet the angels, sent by Da Hah, had come to take Aden’s spirit home. Had Da Hah known that comfort was needed for those left behind when three deaths so quickly followed each other? Ella dug her toes into the dirt, feeling more of the damp warmth beneath. These things are too high for me and best left to the preachers to figure out. Someday, when it is time, heaven will come for me too. Perhaps it won’t happen till I am well into my old age, when I am broken in body and weary with years. Yet the angels will be there—if I obey God and am not ashamed of His name or His people. Ella looked back toward the house and made her way down the steps to her basement.

  This is my home now. It is such a gut one, given by the mercy of God. There is much to be thankful for. She walked over to the couch and on impulse knelt and whispered the words that came to her.

  “Thank You, dear Lord, for all You have given me. I don’t understand You or what You do. Just help me as You already have. Be with Preacher Stutzman’s little girls. Thank You that they have a father who loves them. It would seem too much to have their mother taken and no father around who cared.

  “Thank You for Ronda and Joe, who have come to live with me. They already mean so much. Thank You for the quilt I’ve already sold, and I ask for the strength to work on it. Thanks for my mamm and daett, Dora and Clara, Eli and Monroe. You know the trouble Eli is in. You know he’s stubborn and thinks he knows what’s best. Would You forgive him and have mercy on him? He needs mercy like we all do. I, perhaps the most of them all. Amen.”

  Ella got up and prepared to go upstairs to bed. With the girls gone, she would spend the weekend sleeping in her own upstairs bedroom. Knowing she would miss the girls, at least she would have her own bed to take comfort in.

  Is there time yet to write tonight, to place my thoughts on paper? Surely there is. Carefully Ella turned out the gas lantern and took the kerosene lamp with her. The basement steps creaked under her feet as she crept upward and onto the first floor. Down the hall, she could see that the living room light was still on, but there was no sign of either Joe or Ronda.

  Ella continued up the stairs. The bedroom door opened under her hand without a sound. It’s newness was evident in the very feel of the wood and the ease with which the knob turned. The journal was still in its place in the cedar chest, covered by the protective dresses.

  Ella set the kerosene lamp on the dresser. With her journal in hand, she walked over to the bed, sat down, flipped through the pages until a blank one came up, and then began at once to write the thoughts that came to her.

  Preacher Stutzman just left. It was a good week…taking care of his girls. I didn’t quite know what to expect, but he does love his girls. Ronda and Joe are here now and fully moved in. That has been such a blessing. Now, if we could just find an answer to the problem of Eli. Yes, he is a problem in his own right. A big one, but how I do love him.

  I was just a little girl, too young to remember much, when Eli was born. Dora and I played together outside in the yard or in the barn in those days. He was just the little bundle Mamm would lay down on a blanket beside the wash line while she worked. That much I do remember.

  When I first learned to love him, I don’t know. Perhaps it happened the day he could run faster than me, chasing after our collie, Bessie, who had stolen my doll. Dora couldn’t keep up either with the naughty creature. The dog meant no harm, I’m sure. We left our dolls lying around the yard all the time while we played.

  That day the collie took off with mine, dragging the poor rag doll by its head. Horrified, I screamed at the sight of such abuse happening to my beloved treasure. Dora didn’t help things by yelling. I thought the doll would soon be all torn up with nothing much left to it. Bessie wouldn’t listen to any of our pleas to stop.

  It was Eli who caught her running out of the barn. How he could run! I can still see him. He wasn’t that big, but he looked like the best sight I’d seen all day. He told Bessie to stop in his little voice. He told her what a bad dog she was, and for some reason, it worked.

  Eli scolded Bessie some more—his hands tight around her neck—while I went to pick up my doll from the ground. Other than some tiny teeth marks, I couldn’t see what harm had been done. Somehow I knew Bessie would never do such a thing again, and during the next few years, while we played with dolls, she never did.

  On the day she died from old age and arthritis, Eli carried her body in the little wagon all the way down to the creek. I didn’t go along because Mamm had work for us to do. Dora didn’t want to go, but I would have. Eli said he buried her under the oak tree—the big one. I wasn’t sure, but I think he meant the one within sight of the water.

  I remember how glad I was when he was old eno
ugh to accompany us girls to the youth gatherings and singings. That was the year before Aden came into my life. When I first noticed Aden and saw him smile, I thought my heart would jump right out of my skin. I couldn’t imagine how I would ever say no to anything he asked of me. Yet, I would have tried if he hadn’t been as nice as Eli.

  Eli is stubborn, and yet his heart is so soft underneath. I wonder if it’s always so. I guess it isn’t because Aden wasn’t stubborn, just strong, and he was even nicer than Eli. How then could my brother have gone so wrong—to think he can date an Englisha girl? I still can’t believe it.

  I wonder if the bishop knows how much he has won over our hearts because of his spiritual concern for Eli. I guess everyone wanted me to marry the bishop the first time he came around. Well, his genuine interest in Eli has played a big part in my decision.

  How will we live with ourselves if Eli actually marries an Englisha girl? It will be like a part of our own body has been ripped from us. The preachers say Da Hah gives grace for all trials, and I guess He gave me grace to bear Aden’s death. I don’t know how else I’d still continue on with life.

  It certainly can’t be for love. I don’t think there’s enough grace in heaven or earth for me to love a man again. Oh, I suppose the calm, settled kind who some speak of could come later.

  Bishop will make that kind of husband. I can respect him. He’ll marry me—even if my heart doesn’t throb at the sight of his face. He will likely tell me that is how it should be and that his love is enough for any girl. I suppose he’s right because he is right on most things.

  I will be known as the bishop’s wife and have no cause for regret, I guess. But my heart will never forget Aden. I will always remember—even when I am old and crippled with age—what it was like to have loved a man with all my heart. I think the bishop knows that. He’ll say his wife’s obedience to him is sufficient and will not care about the rest.