Ella Finds Love Again (Little Valley 3)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I think so, but I’m still not sure what’s up.”

  “Do you think I should ask him?”

  “If he’ll tell you,” Susanna said. “I dug around a little bit this morning, but not a word did he speak about it. The man worries me.”

  “Maybe a good hot supper will help,” Ella said. But then she thought of young Bishop Miller having been here. It might take a whole lot more than a hot meal to cheer Ivan, she decided.

  Ella lifted the food out of the back of the buggy and handed the casserole to Susanna. She balanced the two pies and salad on her hands and arms. Behind them the barn door opened with a swirl of snow.

  Ivan stood in the doorway, his boots snowy and his hat covered with loose straw. His eyes looked sunken into this face. “Good evening,” he said, his eyes taking in the casserole in Susanna’s hands. “To what do we owe this surprise? Supper is it?”

  “You guessed it!” Ella said with a nervous smile. “I thought I’d bring supper over—special…for you.”

  “With how my afternoon has been going, you know how to hit the spot. I just started the milking and haven’t even gotten to my other chores. And the young colt took the whole team out for a run down the road. I’ll be a while.”

  “That’s what Susanna said. Perhaps you could use help with the chores?”

  “That would be nice, but what about supper?”

  “I can manage to get the supper ready,” Susanna said. “Ella’s done the hard part.”

  “I’ll be right back—as soon as I get the casserole into the oven,” Ella said, seeing a look of hope flash across Ivan’s face. The man looked more than tired.

  He nodded, went back into the barn, and closed the door behind him.

  “I’ll bring Daett over,” Susanna said as they struggled back up the path. “Then I can watch the food. Don’t you think that’s a better idea than leaving a woodstove to warm a casserole?”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Ella said, holding open the front door. “I was trying to make as little work as possible.”

  “It’s not a problem, and Daett will be glad to get out of the house,” Susanna said, greeting the girls on the living room floor with a smile. She set the casserole on the kitchen table and turned to go.

  Ella filled the stove with wood. The kindling caught quickly, and the fire was burning with a dull roar when Ella heard steps crunch the snow outside.

  Walking to the front door, she held the door open as Susanna brought her father up the steps. The old man tottered, nearly slipping, but Susanna kept a firm grip.

  “This world’s a rough place,” he said, resting on the top step. “A man gets old fast.”

  “You’ve had a good life,” Susanna said. “Now don’t be complainin’ because I have to get you out and movin’ around. And Ella has got a gut supper waiting for us.”

  “The food would have tasted the same down there,” he said. “Right on my rocker. Now is that too much to ask?”

  “There’s a rocker over here,” Ella said, laughing and pointing.

  The old man chuckled. “Thanks for bringin’ the supper,” he said.

  “You’re welcome!”

  As Grandpa walked slowly across the room, he paused for a moment near the girls, waving his hand at them. “You girls okay tonight?” he asked.

  He didn’t wait for an answer as they nodded at him, but took a few steps and reached for the rocker arms. He turned and lowered himself to the seat.

  “He’s just a tease,” Susanna said. “Although I suspect I’ll be complainin’ myself when I’m that age and someone drags me out into the cold.”

  “I know,” Ella said, pulling on her coat. “I’ll see you in a bit. I’m going to help Ivan”

  She opened the front door and stepped out on the step. Old age was still a long ways off, and many waters would run under her bridge before then. If Da Hah allowed her to live, perhaps her end would also be blessed, as the old man’s was, surrounded by family he loved. Carefully she went down the steps, working on not slipping on the icy treads.

  Fifteen

  Ella pushed the barn door open, entered, and then turned around and with both hands lifted the door back in place until the latch snapped. Ivan hadn’t lit a lantern yet, but he would need one soon with the early winter dusk hanging heavily in the barn. A cow mooed from the stanchions, twisting her head around to get a good look at the intruder.

  Ella walked past, watching for a quick flick of the cow’s tail. From somewhere down the row of cows, the steady hiss of milk streaming into foam rose softly.

  “I’m down here!” Ivan called, his hat coming into view.

  Ella glanced around, searching for a milk pail. Several three-legged stools leaned against the barn wall.

  “Milk buckets,” she said. “Where do I find them?”

  “They’re in the milk house,” Ivan said, his voice muffled.

  Ella pushed open a side door and made her way down a long dark hall, running her hands along the wall to find her way until she reached the door to the milk house. Once inside, she selected two milk buckets and made her way back up the long hallway. The barn burst into light, just before she pushed open the last door. Ivan had the lantern hung on the ceiling when she stepped inside. His face was now bathed in the soft light. Ella frowned at the sight of dark circles under his eyes.

  “Ivan, you’re working too hard,” she said. “I can see it in your face.”

  He shook his head. “Nee, but I am thankful for the help tonight…and for supper.”

  Was now the time to ask him what the young bishop wanted? Nee, there were chores to be done.

  “Which cow first?” she asked.

  He pointed. “That one. The black spotted. Then we move on up the line.”

  Ella sat on her stool and quickly found the rhythm this cow liked—a slow, steady pull. She felt the cow relax against her shoulder, the udder filling with milk until it bulged. Quickly her bucket filled.

  Ella emptied the bucket into the strainer, pouring slowly as the milk worked its way through. She glanced around. Why did the barn have no cats? Usually there were a few around these old places, half wild at times, but wise enough to show up for free milk at chore time.

  Her sister Dora made an art out of squirting an occasional stream of milk at a cat’s face. This scared them off at first, but they quickly learned to open their mouths. A cat would sit on its dignity, allowing its face to be reduced to milky whiskers for a few drops of delicious milk. It was a funny sight.

  How she missed her family! She sighed and moved on to the next cow, who wouldn’t relax, her strokes bringing out little milk. Ella spoke to the cow softly, “Come on, girl. You’ll be okay. I know I’m a stranger, but you’ll feel better with the milk out. Now how about it? Will you let it down?”

  When nothing happened, Ella stopped and gently ran her hand along the cow’s side, her eyes on the udder. A smile crossed her face, as the milk began to squirt from a teat. She still had her farm girl’s touch. With long strokes, she started filling the pail, standing to empty the bucket when she was done.

  “That one’s always been a little skittish,” Ivan said over her shoulder.

  Ella jumped, feeling the red rush to her cheeks. He had surely heard her talking to the cow as she milked.

  He laughed softly, motioning toward her now full milk bucket. “Looks like you talked her down.”

  “Daett taught me how,” she said, keeping her eyes away from his.

  “He did a good job then, but I already knew that.”

  A strong urge gripped her. Now was the time to ask the question, whether the cows were milked or not.

  “Ivan, what did Bishop Miller want?” she asked, glancing at his face.

  “Ach, Susanna must have said something,” he commented, his eyes looking to the floor.

  “Yah, she’s worried. And so am I.”

  “I guess you have a right to know,” he said, his voice trembling. “Perhaps I can tell you while we milk since there are
still four cows to go.”

  Ella’s heart hurt at the sight of his troubled face, but she moved to the next cow.

  Ivan took his three-legged stool, sitting down beside the cow next to her.

  Had the bishop already told Ivan about Robert? Had he passed on the news that she had entertained an Englisha man alone in her house for lunch? If so, perhaps the bishop didn’t even need to help Robert in order to use him against her. He could just as easily send him away and still use the information obtained from Robert. Ivan would surely have to support any church action that might be taken against her.

  But she could defend herself. Ronda had been in the house the whole time, and Robert was a son of a customer. That would supply justification for her actions. Ella drew in a deep breath, gathering herself together.

  “The bishop has a problem with me—and a serious one, I’m afraid,” Ivan said, his voice so low Ella almost missed it.

  “A what?” she asked, pulling her head away from the cow. The swish of Ivan’s milk strokes were echoing in the barn. Surely she had heard wrong.

  “The bishop has a serious problem with me,” he said, louder this time.

  “With you?” Ella tried to keep her milk strokes going but failed.

  “He wants to know why I don’t preach like I used to. He says he’s concerned, as are some of the other ministers. They think I might have acquired liberal ideas or that I am drifting away from the church.”

  So was this a new angle on the bishop’s attack to separate them? Accuse Ivan of going liberal? If it was, the argument seemed weak to her.

  “Who has the right to tell a minister what his style of preaching should be?” she asked.

  “There’s more. He found out I have some current Amish writings in the house,” Ivan said, his voice muffled again.

  “I didn’t know you read any Amish writings.”

  “I started after Lois died. I guess the bishop figured that out or perhaps he got it out of me. I can’t remember.”

  “I still don’t see why that’s a problem,” Ella said. “It’s not even worth a visit. Not if they’re Amish writings.”

  “Normally it wouldn’t,” Ivan said. “But with everything put together, even I have to admit it doesn’t look good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wanted to see the papers, and I showed him,” Ivan said, his voice tense. “I couldn’t hide what I had been readin’—and I didn’t want to.”

  “In the Amish papers?”

  “Yah, they’ve been runnin’ articles—lots of them—against tobacco use. I’ve read them and had some marked, sentences underlined and the like. Somehow Bishop Miller must have heard about it, and the evidence was there.”

  “So what does that mean? Our people use tobacco, but that’s always been true, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but it’s become a big controversy among the Amish. A lot of strong feelings are involved. I suppose you aren’t aware of that.”

  “No, I’m not,” Ella said, finishing the cow and standing up. Her stool clattered backward, tumbling under the cow behind her. That cow brought her foot forward, kicking the stool out into the aisle on the other side. Quickly Ella set the milk bucket on the concrete floor and chased the errant stool.

  Ivan muttered something.

  “I didn’t hear that,” she said, picking up the stool.

  “Many of the Amish are questioning the old ways, thinking that perhaps the forefathers weren’t aware of the dangers of tobacco. They think the practice should be stopped, and these writers are leading the charge.”

  “Is that bad? They’re Amish. Isn’t that good enough?”

  Ivan got to his feet. “I suppose it depends. Bishop Miller said this community wouldn’t follow what he called an Englisha liberal trend.”

  “What do you think?” she asked, searching his dark, shadowed eyes under the lantern’s soft glow.

  He smiled wearily. “I have my sympathies for the articles.”

  “But not that long ago you wouldn’t have had.”

  He nodded, “See, even you can see what’s been happening to me.”

  “But that is gut,” she said. “I like how your sermons are more gentle.”

  “Yah, and I’m sorry it’s happened after Aden’s death and not before. I still feel bad about the way I preached at his funeral. I should never have spoken such harsh words while your heart was broken.”

  “I know that,” Ella said, reaching out to touch his arm. “You have said before that you are sorry, and I have forgiven you. So please don’t let the bishop’s words tear you down. There should be nothing wrong with being against tobacco. It sounds as if other Amish are.”

  “He’s a gut man, Bishop Miller is. He’s only looking out for the church’s interest and for my soul. He means no harm.”

  If she could only tell him what she suspected, perhaps he would be on his guard in the future. But there was no way she could question Bishop Miller’s motives without revealing her repudiation of his love.

  “I scare myself,” Ivan said, his eyes searching her face. “I see things in the Bible now—things I never knew were there.”

  “Like what?” she asked as she looked over the cows.

  He shook his head. “Mostly things to do with tobacco use, and other verses the articles quoted. They make for trouble, Bishop Miller says. If it were simply a matter of opinion, perhaps the danger wouldn’t be so great. But to see the matter in Scripture is nothing but trouble. I know that, and Bishop Miller has an obligation to keep the peace in the community.”

  “What is to be done then? Surely this matter will go no further?”

  “Bishop Miller doesn’t know. But there will be talk between the ministers. And I will abide by their decision, whatever it is.”

  “Then why don’t you preach hard and rough at the next preachin’ Sunday? You don’t have to worry about me, I will understand. It might help your position greatly.”

  “You have some wild ideas that wouldn’t help,” Ivan said, still looking down to the floor. “But there is more to tell you.”

  “Yah?” Ella asked, reaching out to squeeze his arm and boldly touching his cheek with her fingertips.

  “I have had dreams of her. In the nighttime. I saw her in the skies last night, holding out her arms for me. She’s calling for me to come.”

  “Her?”

  “Lois,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  Sixteen

  Ella stood a long moment, the silence broken only by the hiss of the lantern and the quiet munching of the cows. Finally she said, “It was just a dream. We all have dreams. They come and they go.”

  “But I wished to be with her,” Ivan said, his eyes meeting hers. “I shouldn’t be sayin’ these things to you. It’s not decent when we need to be thinking of a life together. But…”

  “You’re needed here,” Ella stated. “Here for the girls’ sake. It’s not time for you to go.”

  “I know, but have you ever dreamed of such things, Ella? About being with Aden?”

  “Nee, but I thought I saw him once.”

  “Was he calling you from the heavens?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “Come,” Ivan said, taking her hands in his. “We must not think of such things on a night like this when you’ve brought supper over. You came to bring me joy and gladness, and I have nothing but trouble to offer you.”

  “It’s life, I guess. Like they say, it goes on.”

  “Yah,” Ivan smiled weakly, the lantern throwing light halfway across his face.

  She reached up to touch his beard, running her fingers down the full length.

  His fingers tightened on her hands.

  “We have not yet spoken the vows,” he said, his voice husky with emotion, his free hand brushing her face. “We must not sin against Da Hah.”

  “We are not sinning, Ivan.”

  “You bring light to a very dark world,” he said, touching her lips with one hand.

  Ella felt w
armth across her cheeks, and let go of his other hand. Why was she so embarrassed around him?

  “I was meanin’ no rebuke,” Ivan said, his fingers touching her cheek again, pushing her chin upward, his smile gentle as her eyes met his. “It’s my own heart I fear, not yours. You are much too gut for me.”

  Ella laughed shakily. “Don’t be sayin’ such things, Ivan. You are a gut man.”

  “I am not wrong in what I say. Da Hah says no man is good. We all fall short.”

  “Will you preach to me now?” Ella asked, her face tilted. “Practicing for Sunday perhaps?”

  He laughed then, full and hearty, bending to pick up his milk pail. “I guess we’ll have to see if your plan works. Preaching Sunday is this week, and they won’t do anything that soon. Bishop Miller will be here some Saturday afternoon before long, and we will talk about it then. And I wonder what he’d do if I really let go with my preaching again?”

  “Do it then! Let him hear the old Ivan in all his holy glory. I can see the look on Bishop Miller’s face now!”

  Ivan laughed softly but sobered quickly.

  Ella glanced at him. Where did this sudden change come from? His hand is trembling, even while gripping the handle of the milk bucket. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I fear I can never go back to my old way of preachin’. So much has happened.”

  “Then don’t,” Ella said, touching his arm. “Eventually Bishop Miller will see that the change is for the good. You are a much better man since the changes. Anyone can see that. I want to support you in whatever you decide.”

  “Yah,” he said, managing a smile. “Now we must get these last two cows milked or Susanna will think we have fallen in a snowbank and come looking for us.”

  “Which ones are still to be done?” Ella asked. “I’ve lost track.”

  “These.” He motioned with his hand. “I see you have kept up with me. Are you gut or am I getting old?”

  “I’m gut! And thanks. I wasn’t raised a farm girl for nothing.”

  Ivan’s stool scraped on the floor, and Ella pushed gently on the haunches of the cow she intended to milk, running her hand down its leg to check for nervousness. When no reaction came, she set the milk bucket down and began. Quickly the gentle swish of milk streaming into buckets of foaming liquid filled the barn.