“The battery must be dead,” Dora whispered in horror. “Why isn’t it charged up?”
“Probably because Eli usually does it, and Eli’s laid up.”
“It’s a sign,” Dora whispered. “A terrible sign it is. This time it really could be me! Please, God, help me be ready if it’s me You’re calling.”
Ella laughed in spite of her best intentions. “You’re just scaring yourself, Dora. Now get the flashlight from under the seat. I know Eli keeps one there.”
Dora reached back, banged her hand around for a long moment but came up empty-handed.
“There’s nothing there, and it’s going to happen. I can feel it. Eli always keeps a flashlight around. Oh, Ella, this is how Melissa went! I know you’ll live through the accident, but it will be me who dies this time.”
“Oh, stop it, Dora! Now you’re scaring me” Ella said. It was enough to deal with a buggy without lights, let alone a panicked sister.
“Mamm and Daett are ahead of us. Let’s catch up,” Dora’s voice was urgent. “This is just awful.”
Ella slapped the lines briskly and urged the horse on. The horse responded, but even around the next bend in the road, she couldn’t see the lights of her parents’ buggy.
“It’s our fate,” Dora moaned, “and here comes a car from behind. Oh, Ella, pull over quickly.”
Ella responded with a tug on the lines, pulling the buggy to the right. She stopped when the ditch embankment was too steep. Ruts came up on the gravel, and they bounced furiously inside the buggy.
“You’ll break a wheel, and then we’re gone for sure!” Dora grabbed the left line and jerked back. The horse turned sharply as the car passed only inches from them.
“You’re the one who’ll get us killed! Now get control of yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” Dora said, settling into the seat. “Here comes another one.
Lights flashed and bounced over the hill as Ella pulled into the ditch as far as she could safely go. The ruts were almost as bad, but Dora stayed silent this time.
“I don’t think I’ve prayed so hard in a long time.” Dora let her breath out slowly and quietly said, “I don’t want to die. Please, God!”
“I don’t suppose Melissa wanted to die either, but she did,” Ella said, surprised to find bitterness rising up in her heart. It wrapped its fingers around her heart, freezing her body like ice. Not again. Why must these waves of anger and hurt return again and again? Didn’t I feel better just minutes ago while sharing David’s grief
“Daett would say it was Da Hah’s will. He called her,” Dora said.
“But why?” Ella fairly screamed, the coldness in her voice filling the still night air. The horse jumped, ran hard for a few strides, and then slowed again.
Dora’s eyes became wide when she heard her sister’s outburst. Still Ella went on. “Tell me why! Why didn’t Melissa and David deserve the right to love, the right to marry, the right to have children, the right to leave someone behind them, and the right to grow old together like others? Does Da Ha have something against certain people? Does He just pick this one and that one, saying to one, ‘You die’ and to the other, ‘You live’? Why do you and I have the right to go on with life? Why, Dora? Why?”
Dora reached with both hands for the lines. “Do you want me to drive, Ella, because I can?”
“Why should you? I can drive just fine.”
“I think I should,” Dora said, not taking her hands off the reins.
“Oh, Dora, I’m not trying to kill you,” Ella said, guessing Dora’s thoughts, her voice now void of emotion.
“I’m not so sure,” Dora said, pulling on the lines. “You’re way too upset to even think of driving. We should all have known that. You’re grieving yet. Why, Ella, you’re not even fit to be out of the house.”
“I’m fine.” Ella pushed Dora’s hands away and slapped the reins. She pulled toward the ditch as another set of lights approached. This time there was room enough and fewer ruts to contend with, but Dora froze beside her until the car passed.
“You didn’t take the battery out,” Dora asked, her voice trembling, “or hide the flashlight?”
“What are you talking about? The battery’s just dead.”
“You’re hurting pretty bad, and we should have known that.”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing, Dora,” Ella said as she carefully pulled up to a stop sign and then turned left.
Dora seemed lost in thought. “I’m not so sure I believe you,” she finally ventured. “I just thought of something else.”
“Yah, and?” Ella waited. Another set of lights appeared and passed safely before Dora answered.
“Clara told us how you went and jumped in front of that bull. She said it was the bravest thing she had ever seen. But I just thought of something. You were hoping the bull would kill you, weren’t you? You wanted to die.”
“Well…” Ella paused, searching for the right answer, but she knew from the sound of Dora’s sharp breath, her sister wouldn’t believe a denial. She said the words anyway, “Not like you’re saying it. It was that I wanted to protect Eli. Yah, and in doing so, if I had died…it did seem to be a good thing at the time.”
“So you did take the battery out?”
“Nee, I didn’t do that. And I wouldn’t try to kill myself—or you.”
“I suppose if someone had been through what you have—had loved as deeply as you did—this would be understandable, yah?”
“I didn’t do it,” Ella said, her voice firm. “It’s against the will of Da Hah. He doesn’t welcome into heaven those who take their own life. Remember, I do want to be with Aden again.”
“You know, I’m going to ask Eli.”
“That’s fine.” Ella smiled in the darkness. “I don’t know what he’ll say, but I didn’t take the battery out.”
When they arrived home, Dora helped unhitch and then made a beeline for the guest bedroom. Ella saw her in conversation with Eli when she came inside.
“Well?” she asked when Dora came out of the bedroom.
“Eli said he took it out to charge it before he was injured.” Dora smiled weakly. “But you sure had me worried.” She awkwardly reached out to hug her sister.
“I’m glad you cared,” Ella said as they clung to each other.
Thirty
The house was silent. Eli lay asleep in the guest bedroom. Ella thought of work that could be done, but with the rest of the family at the funeral, the idea of working didn’t seem to fit the day. It was as if this day was like an additional Sabbath—sacred to those who had to bury their loved one.
Ella checked on Eli again and then went downstairs to work on the wedding quilt.
With a cloudless sky outside, she didn’t need a lamp to work on the stitching. As the needle moved smoothly in her hand, thoughts of Daniel’s visit came to her, faint but persistent. In many ways, she couldn’t believe he had been here—right here by the quilt.
A house for me without Aden—it was an impossible notion. Yet Clara’s drawing of the house lay before her, almost speaking to her. Thoughts she hadn’t expected began to rise up; thoughts of hope, of a future, and of a way to go on with life. The half-penciled house now seemed as if brought to life by Daniel’s words.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a distinct knock upstairs on the front door. Someone had arrived, perhaps a tourist or someone who thought they had a shop in the house. Even though no sign was in the yard, people stopped in every once in a while.
Ella quickly went upstairs, her feet noiseless on the basement stairs. She glanced in Eli’s room before she answered the door. Eli was still asleep. She then peeked through the front window to see who was at the door. A woman Ella didn’t recognize stood at the door, and then she knew. For a quick moment, she almost decided to pretend no one was at home. But in good conscience, she couldn’t do that. It would somehow be wrong.
Ella opened the door, and the woman smiled and asked, “Is this the Yoder residence where E
li Yoder lives?”
Ella nodded. She had guessed right. Eli’s Englisha nurse had come.
“I’m Pam Northrup. I was Eli’s nurse at the hospital, and I told him I’d be by to see how he’s doing.” Ella had to admit Eli was right. She did have a distinct plain appearance, though clearly not Amish.
“Yah,” Ella managed, “this is where he lives.”
“How’s he doing?”
“About the same,” Ella said, considering how she might deny the woman entrance and tell her she was not welcome. Instead she opened the door and forced a smile. “He was asleep when I last looked in.”
“I’ll just peek in on him,” Pam said quite confidently as if she visited Amish patients all the time.
Eli must have heard them approach because when they entered, he was propped up on his pillows, smiling his boyish grin from ear to ear.
“Hi,” he said, extending one hand awkwardly while using the other to smooth down his tousled hair.
“Hi to you,” Pam said, taking his offered hand and then his wrist as she calculated his pulse. When she finished, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I ran a fever the first night home. Nothin’ serious, I’m thinkin’. Mamm took good care of me.”
“Are you taking the antibiotics the doctor gave you?”
Eli nodded.
“You should be okay, then, but I bet those ribs still hurt.”
“Of course,” Eli said with a grin.
“Is this your sister?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I should have introduced you,” he said. “The rest of the family is at a funeral.”
As Pam turned to shake hands with Ella, Eli made a quick face and motion, which Ella easily interpreted as Eli wanting her to leave them alone.
Anger rose in her at his success in arranging this visit without their mom’s presence. Mamm would know what to do, but she wasn’t here. In her place, Ella decided she would deal with Eli later. There was no sense in a scene now, and she didn’t like scenes anyway.
“I’ll leave you,” she said, managing another smile as she backed out of the bedroom but leaving the door cracked open. That was one compromise she wouldn’t make. The soft murmur of their voices rose and fell, and she paced the kitchen floor for thirty minutes before Eli called for her.
“Pam’s ready to leave,” he said with a weak smile.
“You behave now,” Pam said to Eli, “and take care of yourself.”
Ella led the way to the front door and held it open for her.
“You have a good day,” the girl said and turned to wave at the bottom of the porch steps.
“You too,” Ella offered. She waited until Pam got in her car, waved again, and backed out of the driveway. She was a nice girl—but Englisha.
Ella marched straight to Eli’s bedroom. At the moment she didn’t care if he was sick or not. “How dare you!” she demanded. “What would have happened if Mamm had been at home?”
“Thankfully she wasn’t,” he said, wearing his boyish grin, “but it would have looked like a nurse on a visit.”
“Have you totally lost your mind? She’s an Englisha girl, Eli. Can’t you see that?”
“Doesn’t she look kind of plain?” he countered.
“Maybe a little, but it makes no difference. She’s not one of us. She never will be. They live in their own world. They can’t just come to ours like that, and they never do. You know that, and you’re certainly not going to hers. You’re too decent for that, Eli. You’ve never been wild. You’re a gut boy. You’ve all kinds of chances with our own girls. I could name three nice Amish girls right now who would love some attention from you. With those kinds of doors open, what’s wrong with you?”
Eli stared at her, his smile frozen in place under the attack. “Relax. She won’t be stoppin’ in again. I told her today not to come again.”
“But you will go to her, won’t you? Eli, don’t you know you can’t see her again. Not just here, but anywhere. If this comes out, even a whisper of it, it would take you years to live it down. And the other girls would quickly forget you and fly into the arms of the other boys.”
“Ella, don’t you believe in love,” Eli asked, “and that it comes just once in a lifetime?”
“Where on earth did you hear something like that?” she demanded. “Have you been reading love stories or something? Those Englisha books from the library? Where, Eli?”
Eli grinned knowingly. “Not from books, Ella…from watching you and Aden.”
His words froze her.
“Aden and me?”
“Yah, you had that kind of love. It just happened that you were both Amish. How can I know it won’t be the same for me?”
“That’s different, and you know it,” Ella said, gasping.
“I love the girl,” he said. “So, yah, I might see her after I’m well again.”
“Love,” she said slowly in search of words. “How can you tell so quickly? It doesn’t come all at once, at least ours didn’t.” Her face softened. “I guess I don’t know how you feel, or how she feels. But she’s Englisha, Eli. You must be careful. Can you be thinking of marrying her? What will this mean? Will she come your way? Rarely does anyone come to our faith from the outside. Think about that, yah? And I just can’t see you goin’ her way. Would you?”
He shook his head.
Ella was surprised how easily her anger had been tempered by Eli pointing to her and Aden as examples of being in love. “You must be wise, Eli,” she said. “Really wise even if you think this is love. The kind Aden and I had, I just can’t imagine this can happen with an Englisha girl. But don’t tell anyone of this, not till you’re certain. It will be an awful thing to break Mamm and Daett’s heart with such news. It could almost tear them apart. I guess only you can know whether that’s worth it. Can you really be loving someone and losin’ what you now love so much? That’s a hard question, I know. But I’m afraid neither of us may be wise enough to find the answer. At least not me. So what will you do now, Eli?”
“She left me her phone number, and I can call from the pay phone—once I’m well.”
“Then I suppose you must do what you think is right, but there will be much sorrow, Eli, when Mamm and Daett find this out.”
“You won’t tell them?”
“No, but you will have to eventually if anything comes of this.”
“I will tell them when I’m certain.” He settled back down on the bed, his face weary.
“You’d best sleep now. Do you want somethin’ to eat first?”
“Later,” he said.
Ella left him to work on her quilt again.
A little after noon, she made him a sandwich. He looked pale and offered no further comments about the girl’s visit. With a shudder she thought of what would happen if Eli did indeed love this girl, Pam. There would be many tears and great sorrow in the Yoder house. It would be even worse than the bull attack. A fear would grip them. It would be more than what they felt when they thought Eli had been fatally injured.
Life is a burden too difficult for a human to carry, she thought. Only God can help. I doubt silence about the girl’s visit is the correct choice, but I gave him my word. Perhaps Daett can persuade Eli better than I was able to. I will say nothing.
She wondered if she should try harder to persuade Eli to reconsider, but she knew it would be best to allow him to find his own way. If pressure were brought to bear too soon, it might push him further away. Eli was like that—stubborn. Fervently she prayed, hoping she had made the right decision.
After the others came home from the funeral and chores and supper were completed, Ella went upstairs and got her tablet out. She wrote to calm her mind.
I write this down carefully, but I must write it. If I don’t tell someone, it feels as if I will explode. My brother Eli has gotten the most foolish thing in his mind. He thinks he loves an Englisha girl.
I’m afraid that in the terror of the moment, I was way too hard on him—especially after
he said such nice things about Aden and me. I had no idea he felt we were such an inspiration. The knowledge breaks my heart all over again, if that were possible.
I pray that God will help us all. There was another funeral today, and I know there is fear around that this is not the end. All of this make no sense to me, but then neither did Aden’s death. Perhaps God has a reason for it all. I hope so. It sure costs a lot on our end. I suppose He somehow takes that all into account. But then perhaps I am just trying to make sense again.
Please help us, dear God. We really need it.
Thirty-one
Eli’s body became stronger each day, but as the weeks wore on, he still required attention. Ella’s willingness to care for him provided the excuse she needed to avoid the youth gatherings.
In church on Sundays, Ella easily avoided any eye contact with boys. A proper period of mourning would be respected but might end sooner than she wanted it to. Avoiding contact was the best insurance against any young man misunderstanding.
One morning as Eli made his way gingerly to the breakfast table, he said, “I’m attending the school picnic.”
“You’re not ready yet,” Mamm said.
“I’ll sit in a chair in the yard, but I’m goin’,” he said. “I’ve recovered enough for that.”
“But why?” Mamm asked. “It’s just another day, and you’ve been there before.”
“I’m tired of the house,” he declared, “and I’m goin’ if I have to crawl down the hill to get there.”
There was no persuading him otherwise. Ella saw the stubborn look on his face, but she was suspicious of his motives. That evening during kitchen duty, she confronted him.
“You’re up to somethin’, Eli. I know it.”
“I just want to attend the school picnic.” he said. “I don’t need any other motive.”
A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 19