“I’m sad too,” Ruth said. “Burying somebody in the ground is sad.”
Ella pulled Ruth toward her in a tight hug. “We’re all sad today.”
“I’m sad too,” five-year-old Ada spoke up. “Is Aden gone for always?”
Ella gave her a hug with her other arm and nodded.
“Do I have to die too?” Ada asked.
Mamm turned around in the front seat. The rain lashed against the vinyl sides of the buggy as Mamm said, “Everyone dies, Ada, sometime. It happens when Da Hah decides, but you’ll not care then. You’ll be in a much better place—up in heaven.”
“Is that where Aden’s gone to?” Ada asked.
“Yah,” Mamm said, “and someday in heaven you’ll see him again.”
“I don’t want to go there to see him,” Ada said, finality in her voice. “Aden was a nice man. He should still be here.”
Ella tightened her arm around her sister as she said, “You shouldn’t think about this now. You need to grow up first.”
“I don’t want to grow up,” Ada said, leaning against Ella. “Aden was all grown up. That’s when he died.”
“Most people stay big,” Ruth said. “Look at Mamm and Daett. They’re big, and they’re not dead.”
“You’ll get big someday,” Ella said. “You’ll be marrying a boy then and have a whole house full of children.”
“I just want to go to school,” Ada said. “Is that big enough to be buried?”
Mamm and Ella traded smiles over Ada’s sweet innocence. For Ella, the smile felt welcome. Was she healing already?
The buggy turned down Young’s Road and then south to the Wengerd place. Ella and Mamm got out in the pouring rain and dashed inside with the younger girls while Daett went to tie the horse. Thankfully her dad didn’t intend to unhitch, which meant he didn’t plan to stay far into the afternoon after the noon meal. Oh, to be home now, safe in her own room, surrounded by all that was so familiar.
Inside, the line of people moved past the kitchen table. Soup, casserole, potato salad, and cake were being dished out. Ella and Mamm took their plates. Ruth and Ada held their own plates, but Mamm held on to one side of Martha’s, the young girl’s chubby fingers clutching the other side.
Behind each dish, a girl stood, measuring out the quantity of food by their own judgment or by whispered instructions.
“Just a little bit,” Ella whispered to each girl. She really wanted nothing but knew she must try.
“I’m so sorry about Aden,” several of the girls whispered their sympathies as they nodded at her instructions.
“Thanks,” Ella whispered back. They were girls of her own age, all of them with boyfriends of their own. It was easy to read the compassion on their faces and feel their hearts reaching out to her.
They found a bench that was open or had been vacated for them in the crowded kitchen by someone who saw them coming. Martha got on her knees and used the bench as her table. They all ate slowly, surrounded by the mill of people.
Soon, with her plate empty, Ruth asked, “Can we go outside and play?”
Mamm shook her head. “It’s still raining.”
“We can run for the barn,” Ruth persisted.
“Nee,” Lizzie told her, “just be waiting inside.”
Ruth let her disappointment show on her face and then moved across the room to where some of her cousins stood obviously commiserating over a similar answer to the same question. Soon, though, they were lost in animated conversation.
Across the room Ella saw her brothers and Clara get up and slowly work their way outside. Behind them her daett talked with Albert, his empty plate on his knees. Hopefully, he would be ready to leave soon.
Someone slid into the space on the bench beside her, and Ella turned to see Lydian. The older woman took Ella’s arm and squeezed it gently.
“Ach, this has been such a sad day for you and for Albert and me,” she said.
Ella nodded.
“We were all so looking forward to having you in the family,” Lydian whispered. “You would have been a gut daughter to us, I know.”
“I won’t forget Aden—ever.”
“No, of course you won’t,” Lydian said, “but your life must go on. Yah, you must not weep too long or too much.”
Ella nodded and glanced away. Aden would always be the standard she held in front of her eyes. No other man would ever match him.
“Time goes on by, and the sorrows and troubles come and go,” Lydian continued. “We all have our share of them in one way or the other. I’m just sorry yours had to come this early and so hard, at that.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw her daett get up to leave. When Lydian said no more, Ella spoke. “Thanks for your kind words. I will do the best I can.” She reached over to hug Lydian and said, “Daett is ready to go.”
“Of course,” Lydian said, releasing her hug. “We’ll miss having you around.”
“I’ll miss you too,” Ella said as she stood to follow Mamm.
It was true. She would miss them all—Aden’s brothers and sisters and Lydian and Albert, who always seemed to be around in the background. In a way, this day was going to be the end of her participation in the Wengerd family.
As Ella and her mother moved toward the door, Mamm said, “I don’t see Martha.”
“I haven’t seen her either,” Ella said.
“Do you think she went outside after what I told her?” she asked. “Ella, see if Martha’s in the bedroom.”
Ella glanced outside. Already her dad had the horse untied. In the rain, the horse wouldn’t want to wait long. Ella made her way as fast as she could through the crowded room. First she checked the bedroom where Aden’s body had lain. With Martha not there, she moved on.
The main bedroom was also empty, and so Ella squeezed past two elderly ladies to open the door to the upstairs. She hurried up the steps and opened the first bedroom she came to. It was Aden’s bedroom. Only on occasion had she been up here. Usually they spent their time downstairs or at her place. Now Aden’s room seemed barren, forsaken. Ella could hear the voices of small children coming from somewhere close by.
She stood still, her hand on the doorknob. A pair of pants lay across the bed, a shirt was tossed beside pants, the covers on the bed remained unmade, and his Sunday shoes sat just outside the closet, the shoestrings tucked inside.
Aden always had his Sunday shoes on when she came up. Had he really tucked the strings in like that? How like Aden to be so neat and orderly. She crossed the room, bent down, and ran her fingers across their shiny surface. Aden always kept his shoes well blacked.
Ella picked them up in one hand and sat down, running her free fingers down the length of the pants lying on the bed. The air was full of Aden, yet he was gone. She let the memory of his face, the touch of his hand on hers, the presence he brought with him, and the man that had been Aden strike her full force. Would it always be like this—sudden and unexpected reminders of her loss?
Her fingers clutched his shoes and gripped his pant leg. Let the pain come. Let it do its work. Then perhaps it will end sooner. She breathed in and out, the sound heavy in the silence of the room.
Then she remembered that Daett and Mamm were waiting. She was supposed to find Martha. In great haste she replaced the shoes to the spot by the closet and smoothed out the bed where she had sat. Surely no one would notice, as rumpled as the covers were, but she did so just in case.
Outside in the hall, Ella followed the sound of the children’s voices. Opening the next bedroom door, she found Martha surrounded by her cousins and other community girls.
“Come,” she said. “Daett is waiting for us.”
“I’m not done yet. We’re playing.”
“Daett’s already outside. We have to go now.”
“I don’t want to. Mary is getting ready for a story.”
“It can wait,” Ella said, taking her sister’s hand and leading her from the bedroom. At the bottom step, she opened
the stair door and escorted Martha quietly through the crowd. It was a little thinner now but still took awhile to reach the front door.
“Where have you two been?” Mamm asked.
“I had to search upstairs,” Ella whispered. “Then I found myself in Aden’s room. I had to look. I just lost track of time. It was like he was just out for a while and would come back soon. His clothes, his shoes…they were there waiting.”
Mamm understood that there was no answer she could make. “We have to go now. Daett’s horse is hard to hold in this rain,” she said gently.
They dashed across the yard with Ruth and Ada ahead of them. Mamm took Martha’s hand and helped her into the buggy. Ella entered last, after Martha was safely in the front. She carefully climbed up lest her foot slip on the slick step of the buggy. Already life was moving on, and she along with it.
Thirteen
“I’ll help with choring,” Ella said to Mamm when they arrived home. “I’ll change and be ready in no time.”
“It’s been a hard enough day for you already” Mamm said. “We can manage. Dora can help with the milking, and Clara can work inside with me.”
“No, I’m going to help,” Ella insisted. “Everyone has told me that life has to go on, and so then let it go on.”
“Yah,” Mamm agreed with reluctance, “but it just doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Seeing Ella’s face, Mamm relented. “Well, perhaps it’s for the best. You always were wise for your age. Sitting around does no one any good. I’ll still keep Clara inside, and you can work out in the barn. They do need you.”
Behind them the stair door opened, and Dora came out in her chore clothes. “Any help in the barn tonight?” she asked.
“I’ll be out as soon as I change,” Ella said, moving toward the stair door.
“Are you sure?” Dora asked skeptically.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ella said. “Moping around won’t be bringing Aden back. I’ll see you out in the barn in a wee bit.” And then she turned and opened the stair door, her footsteps landing softly on the steps and making the boards squeak in the usual places. The familiar sound was soothing, as if something in the world was still the way it ought to be.
Ella entered her room and sat on the bed. Her whole body felt exhausted. At the moment the bed looked mighty inviting, and the pillow appeared so soft. Perhaps I will lie down for moment. Dora would understand if I fell asleep. But if I sleep now, I won’t sleep later when it really matters. No, it would be better to work even though I’m exhausted. Then, for sure, I’ll sleep better when the night hours come.
She searched for her chore dress in the closet, and in the weak evening light, she finally found it and lifted it from the hanger. And then she froze. Her wedding dress. It still hung there, full of promise and mocking her.
She cried out, the sound filling the room, the chore dress sliding to the floor. Get it away from me, she thought even as her shaking hand reached out for the soft cloth of the bridal dress. She gently slipped it from the hanger. How beautiful it was, so lovely, so unworn, and now so dangerous. The dark blue material fairly shimmered. The color looked good on her. Aden had said so the day she wore another dark blue dress.
Ella turned the dress sideways and held it against her. Carefully she held her head away so the tears wouldn’t fall on it. Aden would never see this dress. When will this pain go away? Will it just go on and on?
Gently she replaced the dress on the closet rod and gathered herself together. She heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs behind her, and then the door burst open. “Is there something wrong?” Mamm gasped, her hand on her heart. “I heard you cry out.”
Ella pointed to the dress. “I forgot that I left it out last week. Did Da Hah plan this to torment me?”
“He never planned anything to torment you,” Mamm said, wrapping her arms around her. “Come here. Shouldn’t you just stay in tonight and rest perhaps?”
Ella shook her head. “No, I’ll be okay now.”
“If you’re sure…” Mamm said, backing out of the room and shutting the door.
Quickly Ella picked up the chore dress from the floor, slipped it on, and hurried downstairs.
“I’m off,” she called into the kitchen and hurried outside. The weather had partially cleared, the sun was low on the horizon, and the evening dusk already sat heavily in the sky. Ella walked across the yard with only a quick glance around. There was a light on in the barn, and the cows would already be in the stanchions.
She opened the barn door, finding Dora and both of her brothers already seated beside a cow. The steady sound of milk jets squirting into foamy buckets filled the low ceiling barn.
“Washed all the cows on this side,” Dora said. She didn’t look up but kept her back bent and her hands busy with the steady rhythm of milking.
“Thanks,” Ella said.
“No problem, and you still don’t have to be out here.”
“I know, but I want to,” Ella said, her voice catching. “I saw my wedding dress when I was changing. I wasn’t ready for that.” Ella got her milk bucket and stool and headed toward one of the stanchions.
“I wouldn’t be either,” Dora said. “I guess the world just gets dark all at once. It had to go and pour down rain at the graveyard.”
“That was the most touching time of the day,” Ella said, setting her stool down beside the cow.
Dora glanced up. “You thought the storm was touching? I thought I was the dark one.”
“It made me feel like Da Hah cared about us. That’s what the bishop said, didn’t he?”
“I suppose you could take it that way,” Dora grunted. “It’s just that I got my shawl soaked the whole way through. We got to the buggy as soon as we could, but didn’t you stay out for a while longer?”
“Yah, it felt so good,” Ella said. “I think Da Hah remembered us. I was beginning to think He never would.”
“If the sadness keeps on, I suppose we could get you some of those Englisha pills from the doctor at the clinic,” Dora said, standing up to empty her pail into the milk can. “They say it helps keep the head turned on right.”
“I don’t need my head turned on right,” Ella said. “I just need the hurt to stop.”
“It won’t stop for an awful long time. That’s what the deacon’s wife was telling Emma Troyer when her husband died last year. Emma’s in her thirties and has six children.” Dora sat down again, her stool scraping on the concrete floor.
“I’ll not be taking any pills,” Ella said. “You’re too dark.”
“The world is dark, Ella,” Dora said without looking up, “really, really dark like it was today, and it’s getting darker the older you get.”
“You still have your boyfriend, Dora. Just be thankful for that.”
“Yah, I suppose so,” Dora said, her voice weary.
Ella got up, emptied her milk pail, and released several of the cows. She slapped their backs as they moved out to the barnyard. With Dora almost done, she waited before she allowed more cows in. Dora hurried with the cow she was milking and then set the milk bucket on the concrete while she stepped up to release the cow. Ella saw the accident before it happened. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late.
The released cow backed up, straight for the bucket of milk. A belated yell from Dora only made matters worse. The cow jerked sideways and caught its leg on the bucket. The milk spilled out in a white flood, its contents rapidly spreading thin as it crept into the straw, debris, and cow dung on the concrete floor.
“A whole bucket!” Dora wailed. “What a waste, and it was all my fault. A perfectly horrible, dark, and dreary day this is. You naughty, naughty cow.”
“It’s just a cow, yah,” Ella said. “Now get out,” she told the animal, which had set its gaze on the running milk as if wondering why these humans went to so much trouble if they can’t be more careful.
“Why do you girls spill the milk?” Monroe asked, stepping across the g
utter. “Don’t you know how to milk a cow by now?”
“You could have a little bit of sympathy,” Dora said. “I just set the pail down to let the cow loose.”
“Never, never do that,” Monroe said. “Never, never just set the pail down.”
“Quit bothering her,” Eli said, speaking up for the first time. “We’ve all had a long day.”
“Long day or not, it still needs sayin’,” Monroe said, his voice firm.
“I heard you, and I already knew,” Dora said. “Now don’t be rubbin it in.”
Monroe looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue when the next batch of cows swarmed around them, anxious to get at the feed in the stanchions.
Fourteen
They bowed their heads together for prayer. It was so gut to be home with everyone gathered together around the table again, just as it should be.
“Dora spilled milk all over the barn,” Monroe said, waving his arms around like Preacher Stutzman. “Ella knows what she’s doing, but Dora and Clara are another matter. Dora still sets buckets of milk on the floor. Daett taught Eli and me that lesson the first time we were in the barn.”
At the head of the table, Noah cleared his throat, and silence fell.
“Yah, it’s not gut to waste milk,” Noah said slowly, “and we do need to be careful. But milk can be replaced. The cows will make more of it. What happened with Aden is the real sorrow. It’s Aden who can never be replaced. We thank Da Hah we can have a good hope for him and that we will see him again in heaven if we are living lives of obedience ourselves. We can be comforted, but it’s still hard, especially for Ella. I want all of you to do what you can for her in the comin days. Give her time to grieve if she wants to. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. She has had a great loss, as have all of us.”
Ella resisted the temptation to wipe her eyes.
“She even helped chore tonight,” Dora said with admiration.
“I noticed that,” Noah said. “I suppose she knows what is best in this. Work can often bring healin’ to the heart.”
A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 8