A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1)

by Jerry S. Eicher

“Who baked the bread? These look wonderful—and twelve loaves at that!”

  “Ella did,” Dora said. “She’s good at such things.”

  True, she had baked the bread, but Dora could do the job as well as she could. Ella, on the other hand, was not as good with the horse cultivator in the garden as Dora was.

  “Dora’s better with the cultivator,” Ella hollered up the stairs, but no one paid any attention. She decided to repeat the statement when she got upstairs but changed her mind when Dora and her mom were already in a discussion on another subject.

  “I think we’ll turn the guest bedroom on the first floor into a recovery room,” Mamm said. “Eli can’t climb the stairs.”

  “I’d make him,” Dora said, teasing.

  The meal was prepared well before Daett walked home from the phone shack.

  “Mr. Wayne should arrive this afternoon for the bull,” he said.

  Mamm gave him a grateful smile. “Is Monroe anywhere close to the house?” she asked.

  Daett glanced out the front door. “He’s unhitching now and will be on his way in.”

  Minutes later, with everyone seated, lunch was served. After the prayer, Monroe launched immediately into the skunk story, including ousting them from their hole.

  “You should have seen the girls’ faces when the skunks came tumbling out. I thought they would both run for the house faster than you could say jack rabbit.”

  “We did not!” Dora retorted. “And it was Ella’s idea to add vinegar to the water. That’s what girl brains are for, to come up with real solutions that don’t have boom on the end of them.”

  Daett laughed heartily. “It was likely just the water that drove them out. They don’t like wet beds, but I am glad you didn’t let Monroe go shooting them down in that hole.”

  “They’re just girls,” Monroe muttered, but he didn’t sound too serious. Another story had been added to the family’s list to be told at reunions and after Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. The best thing, though, was her parents’ good spirits. It was an amazing thing how laughter could continue in the midst of the sorrow they had experienced already. Like the stars, life just went on with its twinkle.

  “We have to wash the blankets this afternoon,” Mamm said when lunch was done. “I saw them still hanging on the line.”

  “I guess we forgot with the garden on our minds.”

  “That’s okay, and I’m glad that’s started,” Mamm said quickly. “We still have time to wash this afternoon. Dora and I will clean up the kitchen while Ella starts with the blankets.”

  Ella nodded and left to lug the heavy blankets down to the washing machine in the basement. Later, after they were washed and clean, she would hang them back on the line. Before Ruth came to help her lift the heavy, wet blanket and hang it on the line, the water dripped down the front of Ella’s dress, soaking it. They rolled out the wash line together until blankets hung heavy halfway up the side of the barn to where the line was attached.

  Ella checked the quilt and decided it really didn’t need to be washed, just dusted. If there was time, she might start this afternoon on the center work. Carefully she replaced the quilt in its frame.

  With the last of the blankets on the line, Ella checked in with her mom, who was upstairs.

  “Is it okay if I work on the quilt until the blankets are dry?”

  Mamm thought for a moment and then said, “That might do you a lot of good. Just don’t forget about the blankets.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said. She took Clara’s drawing down to the basement and carefully traced the outline of the house onto the white quilt block. Just the outline of the drawing—even without the stitches—looked beautiful. It looked as well, if not better, than she had envisioned.

  For thread, she chose black, blue, and dark green. She planned to stitch in such a way as to produce a nice shadow effect. Ella completed the first few stitches and then stepped back to examine the results. Her judgment had been correct. The color scheme worked completely.

  Ella worked steadily until around three-thirty when, with a bang of the door upstairs, Clara announced her arrival home from school. She soon could be heard bounding down the basement steps.

  Clara took one long look and gasped. “It’s wonderful, Ella,” Clara said.

  “I think so too,” Ella said. “Would you like to help?”

  “I haven’t learned those stitches yet. Besides, Mamm wants me back upstairs before too long.”

  “Well, then, you can do the straight lines on the other side. I’ll ask Mamm if you can. It would be a good place to learn.”

  “Would you really let me?” Clara asked, amazed. “I can really work on your center block?”

  Ella nodded, and they went upstairs quickly to confer with their mom.

  “I guess what I had planned for her, Ruth can do,” Mamm said. “I’ll be happy for any quilt lessons you can give her.”

  They returned to the basement. While Clara threaded her needle, her face aglow, Ella gave instructions. Ella then watched Clara carefully as she started down the penciled line.

  “Am I doing okay?” Clara asked, her fingers shaking. “What if I mess up your quilt?”

  “Worst case, we can always cut the thread out.”

  “I don’t want to cut it out. It might ruin your quilt.”

  “You’re doing okay,” Ella said. “Just relax.” She watched for a few more minutes and then went back to her own stitches.

  “I think I’m learning,” Clara said after a while. “Do you think so? Are the stitches tight enough?”

  Ella glanced up, checked, and then nodded.

  “Boys are so difficult,” Clara abruptly said a few moments later.

  Ella pulled the thread through, her eyes intent on the stitch. “They are worth it, though.”

  “How can you say that,” Clara asked, “after you’ve lost Aden?”

  “Because he was still worth it, that’s how I know. Whatever you have to go through to find someone like that, it’s worth it.”

  “Won’t Da Hah just be takin’ him away from me, like He did Aden?” Clara paused, her thread held in the air.

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” Ella said. “We’re all different, and Da Hah doesn’t choose the same every time.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do,” Ella said, her needle steady as she carefully pulled it through the cloth.

  “Paul makes me feel so gut,” Clara said. “Not like Ezra, even though Ezra might be a better person.”

  Ella smiled. “You’ll be figuring it out in due time.”

  “But Paul scares me,” Clara said, her voice breathless.

  “Paul’s a gut boy.” Ella paused between stitches. “He comes from a nice family, and it’s good to be lovin’ someone,” Ella said, and silence fell between them.

  When chore time arrived, they went upstairs to change but were distracted by the angry bellows outside.

  “The truck is here to pick up the bull,” Mamm said.

  Hopefully the departure of the dangerous animal would be complete before she had to see it again. When they stepped outside a few minutes later, Daett had just closed the gate of the trailer, the dark form of the bull inside. He held up his hand to tell them to wait on the porch as the truck drove forward.

  “I’m glad it’s gone,” Clara said, sighing in relief.

  “One less trouble around here, that’s for sure,” Ella said.

  Twenty-six

  Ella changed the sheets in the downstairs guest bedroom the evening before Eli’s planned return home. She fluffed the goose feather pillows and made sure the kerosene lamp on the dresser was filled. From Mamm’s description, it sounded as if Eli would need extensive care, perhaps even through the night. In that case, a continuous night-light in his room might be useful.

  Last night at prayer, Daett thanked Da Hah for His many blessings, in particular that Eli had been spared. This was no doubt the proper thing to say, but wouldn’t it have been
better if Eli hadn’t been injured in the first place? The accident seemed so unnecessary and senseless, and it had spun their world even further out of control. Now it was as if everyone had to spend time catching up.

  Does God really have a plan? she had asked herself last night as she prayed, her head on the couch cushion, her knees on the hardwood floor. The answer hadn’t come. Acceptance of the Almighty’s ways was a firm tenet of her faith, whether one understood or not. Still, there was the hope that perhaps someday it would all make sense.

  Her dad’s words had caught her attention when he prayed, “Now unto Him that is able to keep us from falling and who will render judgment on that final day, we give thanks, honor, and praise.”

  Judgment? Is that it? Will the answers come at Judgment Day? Perhaps God allows these things so that He can render judgment to each human heart, give a test so He can see whether we stay faithful, honest, and just through the trials that come our way. It could well be, and I do want to be worthy of that day of judgment, whenever it comes for me.

  Later in her room, she took a few moments to make note in her tablet that Eli’s homecoming was to happen tomorrow.

  Eli is expected home soon, and I hope his recovery will be swift. I can imagine the pain he’s in with his broken ribs. Mamm says there’s not much that can be done with broken ribs—not like a broken arm or leg where the busted parts are held perfectly still by the cast.

  Poor Eli. I suppose he’ll learn the lessons God wants him to learn. I can’t imagine him becoming bitter about this. His loss is not as great as mine, but I still can take lessons from his good attitude. One must carry on through thick and thin. This is one thing I am thankful for, but I plan not to mention this to them. I suppose Mamm will figure it out anyway. Someone will need to care for Eli on Sundays and perhaps even on youth nights. That someone will be me. I will insist on it. I just don’t want to face the world out there yet. It seems so strange and unfriendly without Aden in it.

  Ella replaced the tablet and climbed into bed. Sleep came quickly, her weariness deep.

  In the morning and after chores and breakfast, Mamm left with Mrs. Adams to go to the hospital. They took the backseat of the van out and spread blankets on the floor in case Eli would need to lie down on the trip home.

  “If it’s needed,” Mamm had said. “It’s better to be prepared than to expect Eli to sit up all the way home if he’s in pain.”

  Ella fluffed up the bed one final time and then moved out to the garden to work. She kept watching for the van, and when it pulled into the driveway a little before twelve, Eli was sitting upright on the front bench seat, his face somewhere between a grimace from the pain and happiness to be home again. Ella ran to the van as Eli eased himself to the ground. She would have given him a hug, but he held her back with a raised hand.

  “I can barely walk,” he whispered.

  “You do look gut, though,” Ella said. “So much better than when I saw you last.”

  Eli nodded and then grimaced when he stepped forward.

  Dora, at work in the basement on the last load of wash, didn’t see anyone until she saw them walk past the window. She shrieked and raced up the steps to open the front door.

  “So you’re not dead,” she said, a broad smile on her face.

  “Close enough,” Eli said as he hobbled painfully inside. “Show me some place I can lay down.”

  “You’re in the guest bedroom,” Mamm said. “You won’t be climbin’ any stairs for a while.”

  “That’s nice,” he said, grinning. “It makes me feel special.”

  “You’d better get well pretty quick,” Dora said. “We need you around here so don’t go feelin’ too special.”

  “I’ll be glad enough to get rid of all this,” Eli said, lifting his shirt to show them the white strips taped around his torso. He turned around slowly so they could see the supports went all the way around his body.

  Ella led the way and held the bedroom door open for him. Eli lowered himself gently onto the bed and sighed.

  “My my” he said, “it is good to be home, and now I want around-the-clock service, all sisters at my beck and call. I want water, candy, and food when I need it and no questions asked. Is everyone understandin’ that?”

  “You low-down rascal,” Dora said, “I do think the hospital has gone and spoiled you already. I think you need to get out and plow the fields. Do you really expect us to obey you hand and foot? I’d say a good day’s work in the field would be what you’re really needin’.”

  “How soon the sun hides behind a cloud,” he said, grinning. “I thought you felt sorry for me.”

  “Not that sorry,” she said. “I now have the wash to finish in the basement, my weak, frail, little brother.”

  “So I will be dyin’ at home in my own bed,” he mourned, his body stretched out in hopelessness on the bed.

  Ella laughed and left to get him a glass of water. She could hear her mother give him a long lecture on the care of his broken ribs, instructions she apparently had gotten from the hospital. She even went so far as to read them off a paper she had brought home.

  “Don’t run or climb stairs. Don’t cough unless you have to. Have someone help you into and out of bed.”

  Ella couldn’t help but laugh. Eli was not going to like any of this, but at least he was alive. He did look the picture of despair when she walked back in with the glass of water.

  “This recovery is goin’ to take years,” he said, moaning. “Years and years, and I can’t even go outside for a good week by Mamm’s instructions, mind you. How am I supposed to get better with no sunshine? What is life worth if you have to spend it all inside the house? At least let me go out to the barn when they do chores. I could sit and watch.”

  ‘You will do no such thing,” Mamm hollered from outside the bedroom. “We’ve already brought you home sooner than the doctor wanted us to. We don’t need you injuring yourself and returning to the hospital because of your foolishness.”

  Eli groaned at a new thought. “How are we gonna pay for this anyway? The bill has got to be thousands of dollars, and that’s just for the hospital bill. Why didn’t you just let me die out there? It was my fault I tried to run across the barnyard all to save a little time. I knew the bull was pretty upset that night.”

  “That’s an awful thing to be sayin’,” Mamm said. “Life is a great gift, and Da Hah takes and Da Hah gives it—not us. Don’t you ever think something like that again.”

  Eli glanced at Ella. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Aden didn’t have any choice in the matter, did he?”

  “It’s okay,” she said, patting his arm. “We’re just glad you’re back, safe and sound.”

  He laid back, limp on the bed, and groaned again. “It just hurts all over. Each breath causes pain.”

  “You’ll be better in no time,” Mamm said, her voice cheerful now. ‘I’m out in the kitchen, and Ella and Dora will be around somewhere all day. We’ll be checkin’ on you. You just holler when you need something.”

  “It’s almost lunchtime,” Ella said. “You’ve got to be hungry, yah?”

  “I’d be if I could swallow,” he said, holding his ribs. “It was horrible stuff they served in the hospital. Because it hurt so bad to swallow, I only ate a little and didn’t care so much. Now here I am with good food and wanting to eat a lot but too hurt to eat.”

  “Now don’t go feelin’ sorry for yourself,” Mamm said. “Stay in here, and I mean it. No trips to the barn, just the necessities like the bathroom. The walkin’ you’ve already done today has been hard enough.”

  He grimaced one final time as they all left the room. Ella made and brought an egg salad sandwich—Eli’s favorite—from the kitchen. His eyes lit up with delight.

  “Oh, you’ll be spoilin’ me now. Oh, ye ribs, please let me eat,” he said, groaning and slowly sitting up in bed.

  “Put this over you,” Ella said, getting him to lean back and shaking a linen bed sheet out across his l
ap. “I just cleaned these sheets.”

  “My mouth waters. My eyes are a achin’,” Eli said. With a look of bliss on his face, he bit into the sandwich. A swallow was followed by a muffled howl of pain, but he proceeded to take another bite.

  “You don’t have to eat it.”

  “Oh, but I do,” he said, his voice solemn. “I have to get well. I can’t stay in this bed forever.”

  Ella had turned to go when he asked, “Is Mamm out in the kitchen?”

  “Yah, do you need her?”

  He shook his head, and Ella moved toward the door.

  “Ella, I have to tell you somethin’.”

  Ella paused and then returned to his bedside when she saw the serious look on his face.

  “I met this girl…in the hospital. An Englisha girl. She took care of me sometimes. She lives north of here.”

  “So? They have lots of nurses in hospitals.”

  “Not like this one. She was just like one of our own people.”

  “She’s an Englisha” Ella looked sharply at him.

  Eli bit into his sandwich and chewed slowly. “What would you say if she stops by.”

  “But we can’t pay for nurses.”

  “We don’t have to. She’d be stoppin’ by to see me. Only don’t tell anyone. Mamm will have a fit if she even thinks it’s more than a friendly checkup.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Ella put both hands on the bed. “You didn’t fall for this girl, did you?”

  He grinned weakly and nodded. “I like her…more than I’ve ever liked any girl.”

  “She was there to take care of you,” Ella said. “She was a nurse. Surely it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Maybe or maybe not,” he said.

  “Well, if it’s true, then I suggest you get over it fast.”

  He met her eyes, and she knew at once that her words were in vain.

  “You’ll be seein’ when she gets here,” he said, “how nice and plain she is.”

  “So when is she comin’? Will she just walk in here?”

  “I told her she could stop by when she wanted to. I told her to tell whoever came to the door that she was one of my nurses from the hospital here to see me. Perfectly normal thing, I would say. Only it’s not perfectly normal. I think I’m going to ask to see her once I’m well—in friendship.”