by Kelly Long
Before they began that evening, Stephen asked the assembled men to pray with him for the families of the children in that faraway place. Stephen cleared his throat and pointed out softly that a child, any child, whether it was yours or another’s, felt the same as you carried it in your arms, and he prayed that Ice Mountain might never know such pain.
Then he began to talk about fire hazards and the necessity of having a plan to escape the haus in case of fire.
Sol Kauffman spoke up. “Why, most of us have root cellars or damp pantries below our flooring. What about going down there if we can’t get out the door?”
“It’s an idea,” Stephen agreed. “But still smoke might get to you, and maintaining gut air flow is the most important thing you can do. Most folks don’t die of burns but of smoke asphyxiation, so getting outside into fresh air really matters.”
The class went on with various strategies and drills and ended with the resolution to meet monthly to keep plans fresh and to practice new ideas in fire strategy.
Stephen was gathering up some papers from one of the schoolhaus desks when Auld Pike came up to him and clapped him on the back.
“It’s a gut thing you’re doing here, young Stephen. Your fater would be proud, and I’ll not worry about guarding against vanity to say it.”
“Danki.” Stephen nodded, drinking in the words. “It matters a great deal to me to think that he would be happy with my life.”
“Well, buwe, you think on that often, ’cause it’s the plain truth, and that’s for sure.”
Stephen took the encouragement of Auld Pike with him as he went to court Ella, who was back at the schoolteacher’s haus.
Tonight, he crawled through the window she opened to him and he gently rubbed his hands up and down the fullness of her belly.
“What did May say today when you saw her?” he asked softly as he leaned gently against her soft form.
“Oh, not much. Ten days or so, she thinks . . .”
He backed up in surprise. “Ten days, why—that’s—that’s nothing. Here, sit down on the bed.”
She laughed and he looked down into her dark eyes with puzzlement. “What?”
“Stephen, I’m not an egg that will crack, you know.”
“Nee, I don’t know.”
He felt her press her hands against his chest, testing the strength beneath his shirt. “May says I’m perfectly fine, and I am. I feel—oh, wonderful—like running in the ocean’s tide for the first time in summer.”
“You miss the sea, don’t you?” he asked, reaching to stroke her hair.
“No, Stephen Lambert, I don’t, because I’ve found twin seas of my very own, in your beautiful eyes.”
He bent and kissed her once and hard. “And I’ve found my home in you, sweet Ella, and that means everything to me.”
He tasted her mouth again, slowly, teasingly, while the nacht breeze stirred his senses and gave flame to his hot kisses....
* * *
The sound of the school bell clanging late in the evening was always a cause for alarm on Ice Mountain, and this rainy September night was no different. And it became immediately apparent what the problem was when folks gathered and smelled smoke. Flames were already licking at the top of Sol Kauffman’s store, and Stephen ran with haste to rally the fire brigade and to make sure that the Kauffman family had left the building . . .
* * *
Ella had run out of the Kings’ haus at the sound of the bell and now circled the big store building, trying to see Stephen.
Then she heard the piteous meow of a cat, and one of the Kauffman children screamed. “Fisher! We forgot Fisher and the kitten, Mamm!”
Ella looked at the back porch doorway and saw a large cat silhouetted against the smoke and flames with something in its mouth. Without thinking about it, she recognized that this was a mother cat trying to save its baby, and something drew Ella closer to the back porch steps. The entryway looked free and clear, except for some wisps of smoke.
She nimbly ran up the wooden steps and saw that the mother cat’s back foot was caught in a groove between two boards. Ella gave the cat’s foot an experimental pull, and she soon had the animal loose; then she turned to head back down the steps. She’d reached the last stair when the ominous sound of wood creaking, then collapsing, echoed in her ears and she felt a hard blow to the back of her head. She staggered forward, and then everything went black . . .
* * *
Stephen watched the wood structure succumb to the fire and waved the men back as the wood burned and fell. He yanked the handkerchief down from his mouth and watched briefly, knowing that the rain would prevent any fire from spreading to the surrounding trees.
He trudged around the decimated store, the shadowy dark weirdly illuminated by the flames and the lantern light of the surrounding bystanders.
He recognized the Kauffman kinner standing, sobbing, toward the back of the store. One of the little maedels broke from the group when he met her gaze and ran to him.
He bent to the ground on one knee and caught her close. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Your Ella went back to save Fisher!”
“Fisher—what?” Stephen’s heart began to pound hard in his throat.
“Our cat and her kitten—Ella went up the back steps, but now we can’t see her.”
Stephen got to his feet and turned to look at the collapsed archway of the back door. “Geh back with your bruders,” he told the child automatically; then he ran toward the fire. “Ella! Ella!”
He had one booted foot on the ashes covering the stairs when, mercifully, a faint cry came to him. “Stephen . . .”
He turned and ran out onto the charred grass, nearly tripping over Ella where she lay in the shadows. The eerie firelight caught on the red of her hair, turning it to flame. He knelt by her, frantically running his hands over her, assessing whether she had any injury, even as he roared for help. His fingers came in contact with the tops of her legs and he felt an ominous wetness soaking her dress.
“Stephen . . . Stephen . . . the baby. Help me,” she moaned.
“Ella, just hold on. All right?” He was about to carefully lift her from the ground when May Miller loomed up beside him.
“Stephen. You’ve got to let her stay here. The baby’s coming now.”
“What?” Stephen snapped his head round to stare down at the healer and found her dark eyes to be serious and focused in the half light. “How do you . . . know?” His last word felt thin and he didn’t bother with any protest. May Miller knew things, just as Joel did . . . Ella was going to have her baby right then and there.
She was conscious of looking down on herself, and of Stephen lifting her so that May Miller could spread a dark wool coat beneath her on the cold, damp ground. Suddenly many black wool coats were piled on top of her chest until she felt a cocooning warmth seep through her bones. Someone cradled her head in a soft lap—it was Martha Umble, whispering prayers and words of comfort in tender tones.
She saw a circle of lantern light form around her as women stood bearing their lights aloft while fathers and children drifted away in the soft rain. She saw the fire dwindle slowly down to hot embers and then she felt pain that rippled down her back and around her swollen abdomen. She heard Stephen; his voice excited, focused, as he encouraged her, and then she convulsed on the ground in another spasm of pain . . .
“Wonderful job, Ella,” May Miller praised her, and Ella nodded, reaching for Stephen’s hand. “And here’s your dochder.”
Ella stared in wonder and fascination at the bundled infant that May placed in her arms. Surrounded by the circle of illuminated lanterns, Ella looked down into the little face.
“She’s beautiful, Ella,” Stephen said in abject awe. “She’s got your red hair and dimples.”
“Kumme. Enough admiring for now. We don’t want either one of them to catch a chill,” May said briskly. “Stephen, you can carry Ella back to my cabin to stay for a day or two.”
“Ja
h . . .” he muttered.
Ella felt him bend forward, and soon she and the baby were scooped up into his strong but gentle arms.
Martha Umble stood at Stephen’s elbow, and Ella’s eyes filled with tears at May’s tender praise of both the baby and her labor. “I’ll kumme see you soon, Ella.”
Ella nodded, and then Stephen whisked her from the ring of lantern light to stalk across the damp earth in May’s footsteps.
Chapter Thirty
Anna . . . Anna . . . Anna . . . Anna . . . The simple name reverberated around in Stephen’s head. A perfect name for a perfect boppli . . .
It was the day after the fire and Anna’s amazing birth. Ella had told Stephen the nacht before that Anna had been her mother’s name and that she wanted to name the baby after the child’s grandmother. But what about a last name? he wondered. I was foolish not to ask Ella to marry me before, and then the baby would have had a last name . . . my last name . . . which would be an honor . . .
He turned the corner of the path that led to the Kauffman store. The acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air, and he saw that the store had been gutted by the fire, along with the Kauffmans’ living area at the back. He’d half expected Sol to be devastated, but instead, the older man and his wife stood talking with Joel, making measuring gestures with their hands. Stephen understood. Life went on; there was a time to rebuild. For the Amish of Ice Mountain, there was no such thing as fire insurance. Indeed, in most Amish communities, there was no insurance of any kind—instead the community pulled together and shared in the need until there was restoration.
“Ach, Stephen,” Sol Kauffman greeted him. “We want to thank you. Without your training, we might not have gotten the kinner all out safely. And my frau here told me of Ella’s delivery. How is she doing now? That girl saved our cat, and that took heart. Again, we thank you.”
Stephen smiled, forgetting his fear for Ella when he’d believed she was still inside the flame-filled store. “Ella’s doing well, and so is the boppli—Anna.”
“And next, we’ll have a wedding, eh, buwe?” Sol grinned, and Stephen avoided Joel’s smiling eyes.
“I’d like to think so, but first we’ve got to rebuild the store and your home.”
“So we do at that. I’ll have to order new supplies, but the bishop here thought that we might be ready to have a store raising in a week or so.”
“Jah.” Joel nodded. “What do you think, Stephen?” Stephen appreciated that Joel asked his opinion, and once again he was struck by a feeling of belonging and kinship. “I say that sounds pretty gut, but if you’ll excuse me now, I’ve got two maedels to visit—both with the color of flame in their hair.”
* * *
Ella couldn’t control the blush that stole across her cheeks when she bared her breast and guided Anna to the nipple to nurse as Stephen looked on.
“You two do realize that this is something that only a husband should see a wife do?” May asked the question with a laconic smile, and Ella’s blush deepened when Stephen laughed outright.
“May Miller, it could be that you’ve taken the very words from my mouth,” Stephen said, and Ella forced herself to concentrate on the amazingly tiny fingertips that Anna fisted against her skin. But it was even more amazing when May quietly left the room and Stephen knelt next to the comfortable featherbed.
He put out a finger for Anna to grasp, then stared up into Ella’s eyes. “I should have asked you before, but that makes it no less meaningful now . . . I know your dear fater is not here for me to ask permission of before I take your hand in mine, but I can ask Gott to bless the question. Ella, will you marry me? Will you both marry me?”
Ella couldn’t help the feeling of joy that flooded her heart. She had never really allowed herself to dwell on the idea of marrying Stephen—perhaps because it seemed too far-fetched as a possible dream. But now, looking into his bright blue eyes, she smiled tremulously. “Yes. Oh, yes, Stephen—we will indeed . . . Only—”
“What?”
She sensed his genuine alarm at her single word and decided to come quickly to the point. “Only, I don’t want you to feel like you have to propose because of Anna and everything.”
She was amazed to see tears fill his eyes as he found her fingers with his warm hand. “Ella, I’ve spent too much time avoiding the truth that I do feel accepted here, that I am Amisch, and that I want to share my life with you.”
“But I’m not Amish,” she said softly. “Although I would love to join your faith if I can.”
He laughed in palpable relief. “Sweetheart, Joel will have that fixed as soon as we let him, and while it’s a sober thing—to join the faith—it’s also a cause for celebration. And I know for sure that Ice Mountain will celebrate with you . . . with us.”
Ella smiled at him in relief and knew in her heart that what he said was the truth. Finally, she felt a great peace inside.
* * *
Stephen and indeed the whole community were stirred by the common purpose of raising the store. The new building was to sit in an area slightly north of where the auld structure had been, and Stephen knew that Sol Kauffman and his family were more than grateful for the outpouring of support from their friends and neighbors.
Stock was pulled by wagon from Coudersport and lumber was freely supplied by those on Ice Mountain. On a Saturday, some days after Anna’s birth, the men began to gather, wearing heavy tool belts, and soon the mountaintop rang with the sounds of hammering and the good-natured teasing of the men as they worked.
Stephen searched among the women arriving later with food, looking to catch a glimpse of Ella’s red hair before returning to work on a particular joist construction. He saw her and was satisfied, then returned to the work at hand.
Later, after the walls had been raised and the store began to take on a recognizable shape, an older woman rang the dinner bell, and the men surged toward the makeshift tables. The tables were little more than wooden boards balanced on sawhorses, but they got the job done, the wood nearly groaning with the weight of the food that had been prepared and brought.
Stephen found Ella trying to manage holding Anna and making a plate for herself at the same time.
“Here,” he said, taking her plate. “Tell me what you’d like to eat.”
“Buttered noodles,” she answered promptly. “And maybe some chicken salad. That’s enough.”
“Ella, you’ve got to eat to be able to nurse.”
“Shhhh,” she admonished him with a smile. “I’ve been tasting all the various dishes all morning.”
“All right. Let’s geh and sit with Mitch and my mamm.”
“What a strange combination of people,” Ella murmured, glancing out over the arranged picnic blankets. “But good, nonetheless.”
“Tell me about it,” Stephen said as he guided her through the cheerful families who were already seated on various blankets.
Stephen helped Ella to sit and placed her food on the white blanket beside her. Then he sat to listen and watch as Mitch and his mamm made much over Anna. It felt gut . . . and he’d barely touched his own food before the bell sounded to get back to work.
At the end of the long day, Ice Mountain had a new store and the Kauffmans had a new home. All that was left to do was to move in the stock and set up housekeeping for Frau Kauffman. Stephen was tired and sore but well pleased to have been part of the mutual aid of his community.
Chapter Thirty-One
The following Sunday, after church meeting, Joel made the announcement that Ella had been longing to hear.
“Now friends, before you geh, it is my privilege to announce that Stephen Lambert has asked to marry Ella Nichols, and has gained the permission of Anna Nichols as well. The three would like this to be a community celebration, and the marriage will take place at Martha and my home in two weeks.”
Ella was pleased and flattered by the buzzing of good words of affirmation around the bench where she sat. And she suddenly realized how short a time two we
eks was to prepare for a wedding. She had no idea what she was even to wear . . .
“Blue,” Martha said decisively later. “Amish brides traditionally wear blue. A warm sky blue would do nicely with your white skin and red hair. We’ll have to get started on making your dress tomorrow.”
“What else do we do?” Ella felt out of her depth. “I mean, what about the food?”
Martha waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone will bring something and the men will cook the meat.”
“The men, really?”
“Ach, jah! Not all of them, of course, but some. And I’ve got plenty of celery we can cream.”
“Celery?” Ella blinked in surprise.
“For good luck—though Joel doesn’t believe in luck, really.”
“I guess I don’t either,” Ella shared softly. “Because it had to be God Who arranged all of this.”
Martha squeezed her hand. “Of course, it was, and He will plan the rest of our days as well.”
* * *
“So, anything you want to know about marriage?” Joel asked with a faint smile.
“I’m not giving in to that trap, Joel Umble.” Stephen smiled. “I have no doubt you’ve got plenty of sage advice.”
The two friends were walking to the new Kauffman store. Sol was getting shipments of fresh stock in on a daily basis and it was interesting to see what would be coming through the door next.
Once inside, they found the store to be ordered chaos as Sol hollered and waved and directed, even while still managing to make a sale.
“Ach, the gut bishop and Stephen!” the older man yelled. “What would you be needing today?”
“Boot blacking,” Stephen called back. “For the wedding.” They watched as Sol dove into a passing crate and came up victorious with a can of boot polish. “Anything else, buwes?”
“That’s all for today,” Joel said. “Except maybe some black licorice—it’s Martha’s favorite, you know.”
They were soon back outside after many good-natured orders from Sol, directing the placement of the newly delivered goods.
