Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  In some way, I think he should care, but I’m not sure why.

  Ella thought for a moment but found no more to write. She carefully closed the journal and slid the tablet back under the dresses.

  Slowly she walked over to the window. The night sky was now inky black and the moon still hung in the sky. The view was much better up here and made her feel like one riding above the earth. Why can’t I sleep up here every night? Nee, it isn’t possible with the girls. It’s better that I stay in the basement. Any small sacrifice for their comfort is well worth the effort.

  She changed, blew out the kerosene lamp, and climbed under the covers. Sleep came easily enough, and the dream just as easy. Before her eyes the dream unfolded. She saw the familiar barnyard, the house, the couples seated in front, and her own face across from the bishop’s. With a gasp, she woke. The moon was bright in the window, and the hour was somewhere close to morning. Why did I dream that same dream again, and why are my hands sweating and gripping the edge of the sheets so fearfully?

  Thirty-five

  Ella stood by the bed. The light that streamed through the window framed her figure. How did I oversleep by so long? It must be past seven already. Quickly she dressed, stopping for a moment when she heard the sounds Ronda made in the kitchen downstairs. Ronda is up, but does that mean I have to be? This is Saturday, and the girls are at home with Preacher Stutzman. Why can’t I sleep as long as I wish? There is no one around but Joe and Ronda, and they won’t hold it against me.

  Still, it can’t be right. Daett would never approve of his girls sleeping in. There is no acceptable excuse—not even the hours I lost after that dream.

  Why did the dream return? It seems senseless, so without merit, and a thing of the darkness that came uninvited. It troubled her greatly. Perhaps, as foolish as my fears are, it might be best to share the matter with someone. The young bishop is a gut man.

  Ella opened the bedroom door, which caused the noise from downstairs to sound louder. She could tell that Joe and Ronda had finished their breakfast. Maybe this is the very answer I am looking for. Ronda is a true friend—and married. That carries a lot of weight, even if she is younger.

  Opening the stair door, Ella peeked into the living room. There was no sign of Joe, but Ronda was washing dishes at the sink. Ella walked across the hardwood floor in her house slippers.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, but Ronda still jumped.

  “I thought I heard somethin’,” Ronda said with a laugh. “I’m not used to being alone in a big house yet.”

  “I thought I’d see how you’re doing. Is Joe gone?” Ella asked. Glancing toward the plates on the table, she walked over and gathered them up for Ronda.

  “Yah,” Ronda said, “he has to work on Saturday—at least through the summer, especially since we lost a few days for the wedding. And we do need the income.”

  “Mind if I sit down?” Ella said. “I overslept badly as you can see.”

  “Please sit. I hope I didn’t wake you. I had to start the bread dough early. This is my first time as a married woman.”

  “It’ll turn out fine,” Ella said as she sat down.

  “I sure hope so,” Ronda replied.

  Silence settled on the room. Should I say anything about the dream? It might be better to wait until after I eat breakfast. “I’d better get breakfast before I faint,” Ella said, getting up.

  “I have oatmeal left. I made too much for the two of us. You’re welcome to have some.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said. “That’s nice of you.”

  Ronda moved toward the stove. “See? I kept the oatmeal warm just in case. What for, I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I even imagined myself eating oatmeal for lunch.”

  Ella put a dab of oatmeal in her bowl and poured in the milk. She added a small spoonful of sugar and slowly stirred the mixture. Ronda watched her with a curious look on her face.

  “What?” Ella asked, noticing Ronda’s expression.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask you if it’s true you’re seein’ the bishop—the young Bishop Miller.”

  “Yah,” Ella said, “I suppose it’s true.”

  “What’s love like the second time around? I can’t imagine losin’ Joe and loving someone new.”

  “It’s not the same, of course. Not even love, really. A little more down to earth,” Ella said, shrugging, “but I guess that will come. They all say so, at least.”

  “It’ll be the bishop’s first courting time,” Ronda said. “Does that bother you?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but I don’t think it bothers me.”

  “Yah,” Ronda said, obviously alert and waiting for Ella to continue.

  Ella took a deep breath and cleared her throat. Why not take the plunge? Ronda can be trusted.

  “Ronda, I want to tell you something. It’s this dream I keep having about the bishop and me getting married—our wedding and all. I had it again last night. I even saw in the dream where our wedding takes place.”

  “You know where you and the bishop are getting married?”

  “Yah. It’s at the same place where you had your wedding.”

  “Our wedding?” Ronda said, looking surprised.

  “It wasn’t your wedding in the dream,” Ella said. “The wedding in my dream just happens at the same place.”

  “I know other people have gotten married there. Several already.” Ronda said.

  “I guess that’s true. I hadn’t really thought of that.”

  “Yah.” Ronda said. “What’s wrong, then, about such a dream?”

  “It’s frightens me…for some reason. Seein’ myself at my own wedding…with the bishop. I stayed awake last night for a long time after I dreamed it again. I think that’s why I overslept this morning.”

  “Maybe it’s a warnin’.”

  “A warnin’? But about what?’

  “About the bishop.”

  “You think he’s to be feared?”

  “Not likely,” Ronda said, shrugging. “They say there hasn’t been a better bishop among our people in years.”

  “Then why am I afraid?” Ella said, leaning forward. “He’s comin’ over tonight. Mamm and Daett think he’s perfect for me, and everyone else does too. Even Preacher Stutzman’s sermon last Sunday sounded like he thought so too.”

  “Preacher Stutzman?”

  “Yah. You weren’t there, but he talked about Rebecca in the Bible and how Da Hah had chosen her husband for her.”

  “He ought to be more careful about his preachin’,” Ronda said as a sour look crossed her face. “I’ve heard a lot about him and his preachin’. He’s quite somethin’, they say. I guess Joe and I will get to experience it now that we live in the district.”

  “He says things he shouldn’t. You should have heard him at Aden’s funeral. He was thunderin’ about the judgment of God.”

  “That’s strange,” Ronda said, dipping a glass of water from the bucket and setting it down on the table.

  “It’s more than strange. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Not that. I mean you.” Ronda said, tapping Ella on the hand.

  “Me?”

  “Yah, you. You just took Preacher Stutzman to task…and rightfully so, I would say. Yet, you take care of his girls. That might not be a good sign, and your dream might be a warnin’—perhaps from Da Hah Himself. He does work in such ways. I had a dream about a boy once myself, just before Joe came along. It kept me from sayin’ yes…even when Daett liked the boy.”

  “You had a dream?”

  “Yah,” Ronda said, “only I just dreamed it once. It was about the Yost boy, Benjamin, who’s from our district. He was a looker, that’s for sure. Joe is too but just not quite like that. Anyway, I caught his eye at the youth gathering. It was by accident, it seemed to me, but he really got to me. I knew he would ask me pretty soon. I also knew I would say yes, even when I saw that another girl was after him. You could tell by the way she hung around him. Ev
eryone expected he’d ask to take her home. It was a pleasant thought to pull something off like that—against that other girl.”

  “I don’t remember any of that,” Ella said.

  “She was from the south districts. Anyway, I went home that night and made my plans. I thought about it all that week—how it would be when he asked me, how that special feelin’ would be there, and how much I’d enjoy the time with him when I got into his buggy. I even thought of our life together, about the time when we’d be married, of our children, and everything. It all seemed as plain as day. Then Dad found out about how I felt. He found out from my brother, I think. He must have noticed because I sure didn’t tell him.

  “Then on the Sunday night before Benjamin asked me, I dreamed the dream. I saw him drive his buggy down by the road south of us. I clearly saw him driving right off the road and crash into the trees. He got his horse all tangled up in the bushes, and the buggy was in an awful wreck. It frightened me, but it was when I saw him pull me out that I really got scared. I didn’t move even when he called my name.”

  “That’s awful,” Ella said.

  “I know,” Ronda said, shivering. “So when Benjamin did ask me, I said no, all because of that dream. When Dad found out I said no, he raised a fuss. He told me I never could find a better boy than Benjamin. I didn’t tell him about my dream. I haven’t told anyone before. I suspected they’d think me stupid or something, like I shouldn’t be makin’ life’s decisions based on a dream. But it was real, Ella. Really real!”

  “Do you think maybe my dream means something, then?”

  “I don’t know,” Ronda said. “What do you think?”

  “It just makes no sense to me at all.”

  “I think Da Hah is tryin’ to send you a message just like He sent one to me. You just don’t see what’s in front of your nose.”

  “Yah,” Ella said.

  “And there’s something else,” Ronda said with a serious tone in her voice. “I noticed it last night…with you and his girls, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  What is the woman talking about?

  When Ella said nothing, Ronda continued. “You’re so blind, Ella. It’s Preacher Stutzman. Why can’t you see it? I can.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Ella said, fearing what Ronda might say next.

  “The man likes you,” Ronda said, waving her arms. “No, it’s more than that. The man is completely taken up with you. He almost adores the dust on your feet.”

  “Preacher Stutzman?” Ella almost laughed out loud. “How can you say that? How could anyone have any feelings for him at all? Least of all me?”

  Ronda leaned forward, kept her voice low, and said, “You don’t have feelings for the bishop either.”

  “That’s different,” Ella said. “He’s half decent at least.”

  “Have it your way,” Ronda said, getting up. “What do I know? I’m a simple-minded Amish girl, just married, and ignorant in her ways.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean it that way. Sure, I love his girls. Who wouldn’t? They do need a good mamm, and I mean to take care of them until Stutzman finds one.”

  “You know, Ella,” Ronda said, placing her hands on the table, “for as sensible a girl as you are, you don’t have a whole lot of sense on this one. You would make Preacher Stutzman an amazing wife. His girls…Well, you would make the best mother they could have. And the man is all soft inside his rough edges. You should have seen him last night when I answered the door.”

  “That’s so funny,” Ella said, laughing. “You base this all on my dream? Just like that?”

  “No, I base it on a lot of things—like seein’ the way he acted with you last night.”

  Ella, wanting to end the discussion, glanced at the clock. “I think you’re wrong, and that’s all there is to it. The day is moving on, and I think we should too. Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, I need to learn to care for a house by myself, I guess,” Ronda said, squaring her shoulders, “but I will cry for help if things get out of hand.”

  “Do that,” Ella said with a strained laugh. Truly Da Hah has sent me a great friend even if she has some strange ideas.

  Thirty-six

  Ella paused a moment to watch the load of diapers roll out on the clothesline. Already the white wash had begun to move gently in the breeze. When the wind picks up, it will flap and dry quickly in the warm sun.

  Ella smiled. Ronda certainly has wild ideas about me and Preacher Stutzman. The girl does have a lively imagination. Yes, the preacher has turned out to be nice to his girls, but otherwise he is impossible. Plus I don’t have the slightest feeling for him, not even the kind of warm family feeling I get when everyone’s at home sitting around in the living room with the gas lantern hissing above. I watch his girls, but that is all there is to it. So Ronda thinks the dream is meant to warn me? Well, she is just plain wrong.

  “Bread’s arisin’,” Ronda called from the kitchen window, thoroughly cheerful. “I think it’s workin’ fine, like usual.”

  “Gut,” Ella said, hollering back. “Don’t punch it down—not yet.” The girl was a dear, a gift to Ella, and there was no question about that. She was a misguided gift, perhaps, but a pleasant one.

  “Oh, how do I tell when to punch it down? Mamm always told me.”

  “When it looks ready to pop, and just remember that bigger is better.”

  “You’d better come and see,” Ronda said, sounding worried.

  Ella laughed but walked over to the kitchen window and looked in. Two mounds of dough lay on the counter, puffed high into the air.

  “I’d say that’s about right,” she said, squinting through the screen. “You want the dough to rise enough.”

  “Can it go too high?”

  “Not really. I wouldn’t worry about that. An hour is usually enough.”

  Ronda glanced at the clock. “Oh, it’s been well over that.”

  “Then stomp it down and into the pans,” Ella said, laughing.

  “Oh my! I do hope Joe doesn’t find out I had to ask. He’ll think he married a dummkopf.”

  “I won’t tell,” Ella said, “and Joe wouldn’t care anyway.”

  “I don’t think he would either,” Ronda said with her hands deep in bread dough, “but what if he does?”

  “He likes you well enough,” Ella said, leaving the window and walking back to her wash. Ronda would soon gain confidence. The girl was quite capable. She would also make a great mother for the children who were sure to come along, would be an asset to both Joe and the community, as all Amish women were supposed to be.

  Would I be an asset to the bishop? He is coming tonight, and there are many things to discuss. Life’s situations need to be dealt with head-on, and if the bishop wants me as his wife, he might as well get used to the way I am. That’s the way I’ve been raised. Mamm and Daett always spoke about their problems as the need came up. Bishop or no bishop, I won’t lose that trait. Surely the bishop won’t feel otherwise.

  Ella finished her wash, cleaned up the basement, and prepared to begin her quilt.

  “Come and eat lunch with me,” Ronda hollered down the stairs.

  “Really? Well, I’m not going to turn that down.”

  She ran up the steps, and helped set the table as Ronda brought the sandwiches out. They bowed their heads in silence before beginning to eat.

  “This house already seems like my home,” Ronda said.

  Ella nodded. “And I was thinking of this as your kitchen when I was in the basement. Isn’t that something?”

  “I still think you should be up here. I feel bad about that.”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m fine.”

  In a few minutes they had finished, and Ronda said, “There’s no way you’re going to help clean up.”

  “Then it’s back to my quilt,” Ella said, walking down the stairs.

  She laid out the quilt, stretched the frame, and drew in the lines of the blocks. The house in the center
would have to wait until she rolled the quilt in.

  When she heard Joe’s buggy wheels rattling faintly in the driveway, she knew he was home for the afternoon. When will the bishop arrive? she wondered. We didn’t discuss a time. Usually people wait until dusk or after supper because, if for no other reason, they are simply shy. But, of course, the bishop isn’t shy. Of all his traits I know of, that’s one he lacks. From the first time he came over after Aden’s death, his boldness and confidence were what attracted me—if attraction is what that feeling could be called. Ella blushed even though no one was around. If I plan to marry the man, feelings of some sort help. Surely this isn’t being disloyal to Aden’s memory since these are entirely different feelings. Her thoughts of Aden had set her heart to pounding. The bishop definitely doesn’t do that to me. With him, my emotions are hardly involved at all, but perhaps that is how it is supposed to be the second time around.

  Surely there is time for supper yet. Ella retrieved a jar of canned tomato soup from the shelves near the root cellar. She would have her own garden next year, but thankfully Lizzie had sent a variety of canned items along from the well-stocked shelves at Seager Hill.

  Ella started the fire in the oven and stirred the contents in the small kettle as it heated. When the soup boiled, she transferred the contents to a bowl, cut a slice of bread, and retrieved jam and butter from the root cellar. It would be a gut supper, plenty and enough for one person.

  A soft knock came on the door before she had time to reach the table. She jumped, and the soup almost slopped out of the bowl. Surely the bishop isn’t here already. No one has driven in. Perhaps it’s a late customer who was drawn in by the quilt sign and is stopping in.

  Cautiously Ella opened the basement door. The straw hat came into her line of vision first, and her smile wavered.