The rocker squeaked steadily under him.
That he didn’t want to visit the widow was beside the point now. The man in him who wanted what he could not have must stay hidden. Ivan watched the scene in his mind with bated breath. In the barn he would have waved his hand and swatted at the problem till it moved away. In church he would have thundered, quoted the Scriptures, and looked across the room of the assembled with a stern eye. Here, with a hungry baby in his arms, he was reduced to silence over what could not be swatted away.
Yes, tomorrow I will go visit the widow. The hickory rocker squeaked again under him as if in agreement, and the baby continued to softly swallow the warm milk. The widow will say yes, and we will begin to make plans at once. We will say the sacred vows, and my life will become what it must become. Temptation to hope for more will be gone.
“I will do it,” he spoke aloud into the quiet house.
The baby started, and her face became a mass of fright in the faint flickering lamplight.
“Hush, hush,” he whispered quickly as he rocked the chair and jabbed the bottle around in search of the baby’s mouth. The baby bawled louder, refusing and turning her head sideways so that the nipple slid along her cheek.
“Hush now,” he whispered, rocking and hushing until silence came. Gently he offered the bottle again, and she accepted, burping a few minutes later. He laid her on his chest and patted her back. Enough sleep had already been lost. He got up from the rocker and headed back to the crib, carrying the kerosene lamp in one hand and the infant in the other arm. Setting the light on the dresser, he lowered the baby slowly to the blanket.
She whimpered but made no more sound. He waited and then climbed back into bed. Sleep wouldn’t come, though. Wild thoughts raced through his head—thoughts of Ella Yoder, how she would care for his three girls, and of how many women would do such a thing.
She will get paid, he told himself, but that didn’t help much. What I really want is for her to care for me, for my place, for this house, and, yes, for my children. But I don’t want her taking care of them at her house. I want her here at mine. He almost spoke his objections aloud again but held back the sound and pulled the covers up over his head like a little boy when the night dreams troubled the soul.
Seventeen
With the sun just above the horizon, Ivan knocked gently on the front door of the dawdy haus. He held baby Barbara in his arms, and his two older girls stood behind him.
“Ah,” he began and then stopped when he saw the look on her face.
“Your hay isn’t dry yet,” Susanna said, “and I got the wash to do this morning. Couldn’t you have done this yesterday when Mamm and Daett’s night was a little better?”
Although Susanna looked weary, he plunged ahead. “I’m doing it today. I’m going to ask her right now.”
Susanna paused and wiped her brow. “Well, the sooner the better. I can’t do this much more, what with the hard nights Mamm and Daett are having. It’s getting worse all the time. You need a wife for yourself and a mother for these girls real soon.”
“That’s why I’m going to the widow Weaver’s today.”
“I suppose I’ll figure some way to take care of the girls. Things like this do need to be done, and I’m willin’ to carry my share of the load.”
“You carry more than your share…much more than your share.”
“We all must do our duty,” she said, smiling weakly. “Da Hah gives grace somehow.”
She shamed him with her righteous life. What would she think if she knew of my struggle last night, of the secret desires in my heart, or that my life doesn’t measure up to what I expect of myself?
“Well, don’t leave them on the front porch,” Susanna said, bending over to lift Mary into her arms. “Have you given them breakfast yet?”
“Daett gave us oatmeal,” Mary said, “with brown sugar and cream.”
“You do need a woman,” Susanna said over Mary’s shoulder. “You know that isn’t good for them.”
“Am I getting a new mamm?” Mary asked.
“Oh, hush now,” Susanna said, hugging her. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“We’re going to Ella’s house next week. Is she going to be our new mamm?” Mary asked.
“No,” Susanna said, “but she’ll take good care of you until you have a new mamm.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ivan said, stepping off the porch and turning quickly toward the barn.
“I hope I like Ella,” Mary said in a faint voice behind him.
So do I, although there is little doubt in my mind about it. Ella is that kind of girl. She will be a good wife for the man who marries her.
Ivan called the horse in from the barnyard, harnessed him quickly for the task ahead. He could do no less than hurry since Susanna had been kind enough to care for his girls. Yes, hurry I must with this wedding proposal. There are no needs for romantic notions. The widow likely has similar sentiments. We are in a different world now and might as well accept it. No longer is the youth group, with its dreams of love and romance, a part of our lives. When death broke in on both of us, life took on a practical reality.
He threw on the harness, and the horse held still for him this morning. Driving out the driveway, he wondered if the horse knew his mission this morning. Is that why he behaves so readily? Perhaps this is a small sign that Da Hah approves of my mission.
Ivan drove south and then west for a mile before he turned onto Nancy Weaver’s road. She kept the farm herself since her husband’s death some years ago. He wondered how long it had been but could only reason that Nancy had lived without her husband much longer than he had lived without Lois. The length of time before remarrying was often different for men and women. A man simply isn’t cut out to take care of children on his own.
How does Nancy keep the farm in operation without a man around? Her boys are several years older than my girls, but even so, they could not contribute enough to manage the place. From somewhere there had been talk Nancy had a hired hand to help milk and manage the farm. She is a remarkable woman, no doubt, and one worthy of asking for her hand in marriage.
Ivan slapped the reins and drove faster. They would make a good family together; her three boys and his three girls. A little large, the family would be, and a full house, but that couldn’t be helped. With more children still likely to come, the family would be even larger, but that was as it should be. This was the way Da Hah had made things, and they were not to be ashamed of His ways.
The widow’s house lay just over the next hill, and his horse slowed down to make the ascent. Above him the early morning sky was open, cloudless, and seemed to stretch out forever. Ivan let the horse take his time and noticed his own hands on the reins. Why are they clenched so tightly? He could feel the sweat under his collar even as the cool morning breezes blew in through the open buggy door and ruffled his shirt.
Surely I’m not in the midst of youthful jitters! Yet he knew the answer before the question had come. Truth be known, he didn’t want to ask Nancy Weaver for her hand in marriage. And then an even more startling realization struck him. The question he readied for the widow Weaver, he really wanted to place before Ella Yoder. The thought shamed him, but his resolve drove him on. I will not give in now, just when I am so close.
Before him he saw the crest of hill. He was still hidden, and his buggy remained unseen by those on the other side. Once he crossed the crest, he might be noticed, and there really would be no turning back. Surely his intentions would be known to all. What other reason did he have for this early morning visit down this particular road?
His fingers dug into the leather of the buggy lines, and he set his teeth firmly together. There was no way he would turn back now. Have I not thundered often in my sermons about choosing the correct path? And yet with a cry, he found himself turning the buggy around in the middle of the road. The wheels screeched on the turn bars.
He let the horse have its head as if he was mad w
ith youth and on his way home from a Sunday night hymn sing. The horse raced as if he understood the close call.
What will Susanna say about this? No matter, it’s too late to worry about an answer now. He took the little one-lane bridge by the river so fast the buggy wheels left the ground for a moment, clattering loudly as they bit into the gravel.
He pulled back on the reins and slowed down. It’s not too late to change my mind yet again. He almost turned the horse around, but the memory of Ella’s face rose up before him. His nerves were raw as she seemed to be smiling at him. Surely he had gone entirely mad from the stress he was under. Yet he wanted a wife like the one he used to have. He wanted to love a woman with all his heart again, passionately and without reserve. And he knew in turning from the widow Weaver, he had chosen to not let that desire go so easily. Is it possible to be happy again?
What does Da Hah have to say about this? And what of Susanna? He trembled at the rebuke that lay ahead. Still he released the reins again, giving the horse his head, and the buggy sped along the back roads. All the while he considered his plight. Perhaps I should stay silent about my hidden desires. If my resolve is strong enough, maybe I will be spared punishment from on high.
An atonement might help, but how do I atone for what I haven’t committed? Perhaps I can atone by preaching. I can strongly condemn and rebuke the hidden passions of the weak human heart. My conscience will permit that because I would, first of all, be preaching to myself. Is that not the first order of good preaching? Then, after many years of living in holiness, perhaps my heart will cease betraying me.
Pulling into Susanna’s driveway, Ivan’s hands shook as he unhitched the sweaty horse, whose breath came in great heaves. He calmed himself by reaching for hope deep inside of himself. He hoped his resolution would bear fruit. To lessen his guilt, he filled the bucket of oats to the brim, poured the whole thing into the feed trough, and left the horse to drink and munch away.
“You get her answer, yah? And so quickly,” Susanna asked, standing on the front porch and holding a hamper full of wet wash. “Da Hah must have been with you.”
“I turned back…before I got there,” he said, his eyes staring at the ground.
“She surely didn’t turn you down. I can’t imagine that Nancy Weaver would turn you down.”
“No,” Ivan said, shaking his head. “I said I turned back. I never asked her.”
“You never asked her?”
“I’ll try again later,” Ivan said, meeting her eyes.
“I helped you out this morning…so you could waste both our time. Ivan, you’re not a young blushin’ man. You’ve already been married. What’s wrong with you?”
Ivan turned away.
Susanna sighed and then said in a soft voice that surprised Ivan, “Well, then, I reckon it hasn’t been that long since Lois passed. You’re still missing her. I guess it won’t do to rush you.”
“I loved her,” Ivan said in a voice that suddenly broke. As he tried to collect himself, he said, “Let me help with the wash at least. My hay’s not ready yet.”
“That would help,” Susanna said, handing him the basket. “You poor man.”
I’m not poor, he wanted to say. I’m full of wrong desires. But he kept silent as he took the hamper from Susanna.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and walked over to the wash line. One by one he snapped the pieces on, spun the wheel slowly, and sent the line off into the air. If anyone drove by and saw him doing woman’s work, they would think he really did need a wife. Well, he did, but there were some things a man simply couldn’t speak of to anyone.
Eighteen
Ella sat in church, squeezed between the other single girls on the hard bench. Preacher Stutzman’s stirring sermon gripped her full attention. He was that sort of man, especially when in full cry. His voice filled the house this morning, his hands stretched outward for long moments at a time and then folded on his chest, and his beard jerked at the end of each full breath he expelled with great force.
How did one reconcile the gentle man who came to her door the other night with this morning’s firebrand who could spew forth volumes of Scripture from memory? He thundered like a summer eve’s lightning storm, and the thunder was just beginning.
Preacher Stutzman seemed hardly the father of the little girl who sat on the preacher’s bench behind him. With her head now resting in her hands, four-year-old Mary had been in his lap before he got up to preach and would return there when he was done. That scene didn’t make sense either.
“Our spiritual father Abraham,” Preacher Ivan roared, stretching one hand high in the air, “stood on the top of the mountain with his son Isaac. He was there by the command of God and was told to sacrifice his only son. In our own lives, we find ourselves commanded to the mountaintop by God Himself. Abraham went because he knew how to obey, as all of us must learn to obey. Abraham was there to be tested, as all of us will be tested.
“Sacrifice your only son, Da Hah had commanded three days earlier. Abraham went to the mountain, lifted his knife to obey, and do what he could not believe humanly could be done. Abraham was there to fulfill a command he thought was unjust, and yet he was ready to obey—if Da Hah said so.”
Preacher Stutzman’s voice dropped a few decibels. “Yet Da Hah stopped Abraham at the last moment. He stilled Abraham’s hand because Abraham’s heart was right. Abraham was, as we all must be, ready to place Da Hah first in his life. He was ready even when the cost was the life of his own precious son. Da Hah sent a lamb that day, but we must think ourselves as holy as Abraham was. Abraham lifted his eyes and saw a sheep caught by the horns in the bushes. We, though, often lift our eyes and still have to sacrifice what Da Hah wants. The world, the devil, and our own lusts must be sacrificed if we are to be a holy people.”
There was silence in the room for long moments. Preacher Stutzman’s gaze swept from one side of the room to the other. Ella felt chills up and down her spine. There was definitely more coming. The hand was up again, and Preacher Stutzman called out, “Are we worthy of the faith of Abraham? He was willing to sacrifice everything. Can the same be said of us? Do we place Da Hah first in our lives? Are His commandments more precious to us than our sons, our daughters, our wives, our farms, or our possessions?”
Ella took a deep breath. She had heard Preacher Stutzman before, most memorably at Aden’s funeral, and his tone of voice, even then, had made an impact on her. It’s puzzling that one man can be so different. And yet tomorrow the care of his three girls will be on my shoulders. Will Preacher Stutzman use this tone at my house? I certainly won’t consent to it. Troubled thoughts stirred in her. Did I make the wrong decision by agreeing to care for the girls?
She recognized the answer, just as plain as day. Right before her eyes, Mary sat with her face in her hands. Her face revealed no sign of any troubled thoughts. Mary looked as contented and relaxed as any well-cared-for child should. Her sisters sat behind Ella with Preacher Stutzman’s sister, Susanna. If she turned around, she would see that they both had the same look about them. They were loved. True, they were motherless—but loved.
Ella took another deep breath and relaxed. The girl beside her glanced sideways and gave her a puzzled look. Ella gave her a quick smile. I had best get control of my reactions. Besides, he has never raised his voice after church, even on the Sundays Aden and I visited here. If he did, I would have heard him when the men gathered in the yard on summer afternoons after the Sunday meal or in the house on winter days. There is no way to hide that voice.
Comforted, she settled down. It was time to listen to the rest of the sermon. Perhaps some good can still be had. I sure need something to give me direction for the many decisions lying ahead. Likely it won’t come from this man, but I reckon it’s still the Word of God, thundered or not.
Preacher Stutzman stood in the living room doorway. His hands were at his sides, and his voice was soft now, almost weary. “The faithful servant went as his
master Abraham had told him to, traveling off to a far country to obtain a wife for Abraham’s son. Now, how many of us could trust our parents the way Isaac must have trusted his? I ask our young people that today. Can we still follow the holy Scriptures as Isaac did? He trusted Da Hah to bring him the wife he should have.
“The world tells us to choose by the lust of our eyes and pick our life’s companion from what pleases us. We make our decision because of our tastes and the beauty we see on the outside, but Isaac did not. He trusted his father to choose his wife, and yet Abraham didn’t even take the task upon himself. He sent his servant. Still, Isaac didn’t complain. Can we say the same for ourselves? I speak to our own shame. I must confess myself—the greatest transgressor in this matter—yet should we not be the same as Isaac?”
Preacher Stutzman’s eyes swept up and down the row of young boys.
“Listen to your parents,” he said. “They know what is best. They know what a life of marriage is like and what kind of wife you will need. Do not listen to the world. Abraham’s faithful servant arrived in the foreign land and appealed to Da Hah for a blessing on his task. In the same way, your parents beg and plead with Da Hah in prayer for you. I know they do because they are godly parents. Da Hah will answer them as Da Hah answered Abraham’s servant.
“The young maiden Rebecca came down to draw water for the camels.” Ella knew the story, and for the next few minutes, she listened absently but grasped the preacher’s point. Finally she heard him say, “It is time to close now, but remember to obey God and trust your parents. Perhaps others can say the same thing better than I can, but that is the best my poor tongue can do by way of finding words to express the Word of God. I hope it has been in accordance to Da Hah’s holy will and in line with the sacred Scriptures. You, brethren, will now be the judge as I take my seat and ask that you give testimony to what has been spoken.”
Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2) Page 10