“But why not?” he asked, gripping her arm until she pulled away in pain.
“It is just best that you do not ask…and that you do not come back here anymore.”
He paced the floor rapidly. “But surely there is hope for the two of us?”
“You will have to speak with Da Hah about that.”
“The Lord,” he said, as if this were part of his German lesson. “God, give me patience to understand these people,” he asked.
“It would be easier if you didn’t try.”
“I suppose it would be,” he said with a bitter taste in his mouth. She waited, saying nothing.
Finally Robert pulled his hat on top of his head and opened the front door. He disappeared up the basement steps.
She waited for the tears to come, but none did even as she listened to his buggy drive down the lane.
Thirty-five
With a heavy heart Ella arose and got ready for church. This was the Sunday a decision would be made about Ivan’s future. After barely touching her breakfast, Ella hitched her horse to the buggy. She returned to the house to change into better clothes. In truth, she wanted desperately to crawl back under the covers and never come out again. But like a bad dream from which she couldn’t awaken, today and its events would have to be endured.
Church was to be held at Albert Stoll’s place, the announcement having been made two weeks in advance. Where the deed was done didn’t matter. One place would serve as well as another. She simply needed to know in which direction to drive, like the French prisoners she had studied in grade school who were led to the guillotine.
Ella left her house late on purpose. She didn’t want to face Joe and Ronda, so it was sometime after they left that Ella turned Moonbeam north at the end of her driveway and pulled out onto Chapman Road. Few buggies were on the road anymore, even when she approached the Stoll driveway. The long line of men and boys still stood in the barnyard, but already they were moving toward the house. Ella drove past the walks where the women were dropped off and parked beside the last buggy. Its owner had his horse unhitched and was pulling on the horse’s bridle, directing him toward the barn.
Ella’s cousin James appeared around the back of the buggy, along with a boy she didn’t know.
“Why are you so late?” he asked, as if the answer mattered.
“Just one of those mornings,” she said, trying to smile beneath her bonnet.
James shrugged and unhitched Ella’s horse and led him forward at a trot. His companion threw the tugs up over the horse.
“I’ll help you get the horse out after church.” James tossed the words over his shoulder as he headed toward the barn with Moonbeam.
Behind her, the line of black-suited men was already at the house door, with the young Bishop Miller in the lead. He was here on official business, his suit clean and brushed. Behind him followed the home bishop, Bishop Mast, walking with his head bowed. Behind him came the other ministers, and then the men forming a long line across the yard. They entered slowly, filing through the house and into the living room to sit on the benches, the ministers in front.
Ella was still in the washroom, her bonnet strings knotted, when she heard the women begin moving into the main part of the house. If she hadn’t been late, other women would have been around and noticed her plight. Someone would have helped her untangle the mess. With great frustration, Ella considered a quick jerk, which would have surely resulted in tearing the cloth.
Instead she tugged as hard as she could and finally moved the knot out past her chin where she could see it with her eyes turned painfully downward. A sharp tug and the tie loosened, the bonnet quickly joining the others on the stacked pile. The shawl went into another pile. She rushed into the kitchen. Faint smiles played on several of the young girls’ faces. They parted as a group, stepping back so she could at least get in line with the last of the girls her own age.
The ministry filed out at the start of the second line of the first song, Bishop Miller in the lead again. Ivan walked with them in his usual place. He might even sit on the minister’s bench for the entire service. There was little middle ground in this world. You were, and then you were not.
What would Robert think of this? Surely he wasn’t here—she had checked the row of unmarried boys. Hopefully he had taken her advice and returned to his own world.
The men’s benches squeaked as the second song started. A few of the boys’ chins went down on their palms, faces sleepy. They perked up when Bishop Miller’s black shoes appeared at the top of the stairs just before the next song was announced. What this early return meant was uncertain, but Ivan now brought up the rear of the line—out of place.
The change had already begun. He looked weary, his face lined with sadness.
Bishop Mast had the first sermon, and then Bishop Miller stood for the main sermon. Ella felt bitterness rising in her heart, but she had to give the man credit. On this day it must be hard to preach. Bishop Miller could have assigned the task to another minister, but he had chosen to shoulder the burden himself.
Ella had already decided to forgive the man. It was the way of her people. You laid your burden at the feet of Da Hah, allowing the pain to come, and then walked away from it. Vengeance belonged to Another, and you prayed that He would be merciful with His judgment, even as you yourself needed mercy.
This might have started with impure motives from the bishop—desiring to come between her and Ivan—but even Ivan had come to realize that he had done himself in. And now she could expect a visit from Bishop Miller sometime in the weeks ahead. The man had loved her, professed his great admiration for her, so perhaps he could be excused for using what means lay in his hands to win her heart.
Still, she would smile, and tell him nee. There was no harm he could do to her or to her family. The worst had already been done. Joe and Ronda could have the house for all she cared—or her daett could decide the matter. She was worn out, her heart in shambles. She would gladly move back home. That was where an old maid belonged anyway.
The only unsettled matter, really, were Ivan’s girls. Ella would care for them as long as Ivan wanted—but likely that wouldn’t be long. Usually those who left for the Englisha world didn’t do it halfway. Ivan would quickly pull the girls along with him.
As for Robert—wherever he was now—he could take care of himself. He was a man. Ella hoped that the ray of faith he held had not been destroyed. Surely he hadn’t thought Amish people were saints. If so, that illusion had probably been shattered.
Bishop Miller closed his sermon, his eyes moving around the room one last time before settling on three men who would give testimony. Two of them came from the minister’s bench, and the other from the audience. All three took their time, since it was still early. No one had found any errors in the sermon, and the final song came to a close. The clock on the living room wall showed exactly twelve o’clock.
“Will all those who are members please stay in,” Bishop Miller said, now on his feet again. A rustle of whispers went through the congregation as children were given final instruction for their time outside without adult supervision.
Even though Ella knew what lay ahead, her spirit sank as low as it had been yet. This was not a dream. It was very real.
“We have the labor of the church before us,” Bishop Miller said, still standing. To his credit, he didn’t seem to be enjoying this duty. “The work of Da Hah is necessary work, just as the work on our farms is necessary. We must tend to it or things fail—the cows don’t give milk and the crops don’t grow.” He cleared his throat.
The men’s benches didn’t squeak at all.
“Our brother Ivan Stutzman has allowed himself to be drawn into a clever trap of the enemy. A trap from the one who is the enemy of all our souls, who seeks to destroy us. This matter first came to our attention some time ago, and we have spoken often with Ivan since that time.
“Ivan Stutzman has, in our opinion, allowed the sorrows of his wife’s death
to cloud his judgment. He has grieved for her beyond what is fitting for any man or woman and has not placed the matter fully into Da Hah’s hands. Others may have different opinions on the matter—about how this has happened. We do not argue with them or say they are wrong.
“What we can all agree on—first as the ministry and then hopefully today as a congregation—is that our concerns have been for a reason. That these concerns could have been solved in a reasonable manner was always possible. Concerns about Ivan’s change in his preaching style, which I am sure all of you have noticed. Ivan also began to read articles, written by Amish people, yah, but they are against our beliefs. This we could still have worked with, but now in addition to these concerns, it has been confirmed with Ivan that he attended a Baptist church in Randolph. Once when we first spoke with him, and twice since then, including this very morning. He has also told us that of this indiscretion, he is unwilling to repent.
“There were also reports brought to us that Ivan has been seen at the Baptist church with an Englisha woman. Ivan has assured us this is not true, that he attended alone. We accept that explanation, but still warn him of the enticements from the many Englisha women, no doubt, who would accept his hand in marriage.
“I will now ask the other ministers to express themselves,” Bishop Miller concluded. He sat down. Bishop Mast spoke first, and then the other minister. Neither had anything new to add. Each expressed their support for excommunication since Ivan had been given warning and plenty of time to repent.
Bishop Miller rose again and addressed Ivan. “Will our beloved brother now leave, so that the council of the church can be taken on this matter?” He waited as Ivan left the room.
Ella couldn’t take her eyes off Ivan’s face, even when she tried. His pain cut her deeply. How she wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn. They could still make something of their life together. Why couldn’t Ivan see that?
“The ministry will now ask for the voice of the church,” Bishop Miller said, sitting down.
With a soft rustle, the deacon stood first, soon joined by two of the ministers. They moved between the tight benches, bending over to listen to each member whisper in their ear. There was little to say, since no one would desire or dare to object.
When the deacon reached her, Ella had planned to only shrug her shoulders and the deacon would move on. He knew her connection to Ivan and would understand. Instead she whispered, “My heart is very heavy today, but I cannot see what else could have been done.”
The deacon nodded, moving on. He bent toward the girls beside her, waiting, then moved on to the next person. Bishop Miller got to his feet when the reports had been brought back and given to him in quiet whispers. Someone went out to bring Ivan back in.
“In this case,” Bishop Miller said, turning to face Ivan who sat on the front bench, hanging his head, “I now, with the full support of the church, will hold Ivan Stutzman to be in a fallen state, both before Da Hah and man, until such time as he comes to repentance. We have nothing more to say about the matter.”
The older boys who had stayed in the meeting now left, followed by the men. The girls’ side began to move toward the kitchen, where they began the food preparation in an obviously subdued mood. Ella joined in. She wanted something to do. She needed to feel the presence of others around her. Soon enough the dreaded time would come when the aloneness of the basement would surround and haunt her.
Prayer was announced, spoken, and slowly the usual hum of voices filled the house. These were men and women who worked every day around death and disaster on their farms. A man’s soul had been dealt with today, but even then they quickly returned to the faith that Da Hah worked all things out for the best.
Ivan could have left for home, if he’d wished, and no one would have blamed him. Instead he stayed, and someone gave him a place at the first round of tables. Only it was in a little bench off to the side. No one could eat with him now. He sat there, his head bowed, his face haunted. A little bowl of peanut butter, two pieces of bread, butter, and some pickles sat before him. He was offered coffee and shook his head.
Ella watched him as he slowly spread his bread. As he took his first bite, little Mary broke out of the crowd and climbed on the bench beside him. She whispered something, and Ivan attempted a smile for her and stroked her face, tucking in the stray hairs under her covering as she snuggled up beside him. Ella wondered if Jesus had looked anything like this when He had left His beautiful heaven to taste of earthly sorrows. Such a thing seemed very possible.
“It is a sad day,” Ronda whispered in her ear.
Ella nodded, wiped her eyes, but said nothing. Beside her a few women noticed and made sure she got on the next table to eat. She didn’t feel like food would go down, but accepted their offer of comfort. It was all they knew how to give, and she was thankful she could still eat with them.
Thirty-six
The Englisha Christmas decorations were out, wreaths hanging on the doors, Christmas trees sparkling in the living room windows, but Ella barely noticed. Her routine with Ivan hadn’t changed despite his new status in the community. Every Monday morning he showed up with the girls, and every Friday he picked them up on schedule. Little was said between the two, and it was best that way.
He waited for the girls outside the door, making no attempt to come inside, and Ella didn’t ask him in. His clothes were still Amish, and he looked the same as always. Ronda said that he was attending the Baptist church in Randolph on Wednesday nights…or so she had heard.
For now, he still came to the regular Amish church services every two weeks. He stayed home on the Sundays in between. For some reason Ella didn’t know about, Ivan had not yet told the girls about his departure from the faith.
Ella’s heart felt as frozen as the winter snow that continued to fall day after day. A severe storm off the lake had blown in, closing the back roads for a day. After the plows came through, a group of Englisha carolers stopped by, all wrapped up in mufflers and overcoats.
The little children’s cheerful red faces were the only reason Ella allowed them to stay long enough for two songs. That and the memory of Aden and his love for Englisha people’s Christmas carols.
Ronda called out of the first floor window once they were gone, “I can’t believe you let them sing, Ella. Do they stop here every year?”
“I don’t know,” Ella said. “This is my first winter in this house.”
Every so often Ella wondered about Robert. Nothing had been said about him, but he had not returned. She didn’t dare ask questions of anyone. When buggy wheels turned into the driveway at odd times, she half expected it would be Bishop Miller, come to stake his claim to her again. Her speech was prepared for his arrival. She would be as nice as possible, smile, but her answer was nee.
Lately Ella felt compelled to teach Ivan’s girls while she still could. She had visions of what might lay ahead for them in an Englisha world—the change in clothes, the automobile, the use of the modern things the Englisha women had. She knew anything she might say about the dangers of the world would be of little benefit to them, but surely the basics of the faith would stand them in good stead. Did not the Englisha people believe many of the same things?
The day she had hoped to begin her instruction baby Barbara came down with the flu. Ella sat up in the rocker with her for most of two nights. When the baby recovered, Ella began reading Bible stories to the girls after supper. She didn’t own a fancy children’s Bible storybook like the one she had seen in the library at Randolph. Nor did she have an inclination to borrow one. Instead she read straight from the biblical text, using the English words and adding her own as they occurred to her.
She read chapter after chapter to them, stories of Abraham, Joseph, David, and his son Solomon. She expected Mary and Sarah to tire, but the stories held their interest, and the next evening they seemed to look forward to more stories.
Joe and Ronda left for Ronda’s parents’ place the evening before Old Christmas.
Before they left, Ronda came down. “You’re not going anywhere? Isn’t it time you got out?”
“I guess I could go to Mamm and Daett’s,” Ella said, offering a weak smile. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just tired.”
“Will they come over here then? Surely you need to see your family.”
“I don’t know. It’s a ways over there, and with all the stuff that’s gone on…”
“They don’t blame you for Ivan’s excommunication, do they? That’s not your fault at all.”
“I don’t think they do, and no one else seems to either. At least from what I’ve picked up on Sundays.”
“I’d hope not,” Ronda said. “And how are you doing?”
“To tell you the truth, I feel frozen. I feel scared…mostly for the girls and what will happen to them.”
“All the more reason to drive over to your parents. You can get the horse ready or Joe can, if that would help. Just spend the day with your family. Really, Ella, you ought to.”
“This will be a hard time for Mamm and Daett. It’s the first Old Christmas since Eli left. I’m not sure a visit would be all that helpful…for me or for them. We’d all be thinking about Eli, even if nothing is said.”
“I feel so sorry for you,” Ronda said. “Is there anything Joe and I can do?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ella said. “Life will have to heal itself.”
And that was how it would go. Life would slowly heal itself, and she would settle into her role of being an old maid.
With Joe and Ronda gone for the evening, Ella read her usual Bible story to Mary and Sarah, with baby Barbara on the floor in front of them. When bedtime arrived, she decided to do something unusual—perhaps memorable for the three girls. Baby Barbara might not remember, but hopefully Mary and Sarah would.
Ella Finds Love Again (Little Valley 3) Page 22