Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  She stood to her feet. “No, you must not do that. You must not speak to my father. He would have to obey you…and Eli must stay at home. Daett needs him. He needs him a lot. I wouldn’t want to see Daett suffer more than he already has. And this could drive away Eli for good. I believe Eli will choose the faith in the end. I just know he will.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “As I said, you’re a lot like my cow. You always push the fence. You always find the loose wire. Yet in spite of that, you are the best woman I have ever seen. I find my heart pulls me in one direction, Ella, and my good sense pulls me in another. You really ought to learn the ways of an Amish woman’s meek and quiet spirit. Has your Daett not taught you this?”

  “You don’t have to marry me,” Ella whispered. “I still think the single life may be for me, but you must not speak with Daett about Eli.”

  “Yah,” he said with a slight smile on his face, “I see you also speak your mind. Perhaps we should leave these matters alone for now. I will think some more about the subjects, both Eli and Ivan’s girls. But I do have peace in my heart on one matter. Da Hah has given you to me for a wife—of this I am sure. I will humble my heart to accept His good will. Much work will be needed, I see. Yet His will is always the best.”

  “I have not yet agreed,” Ella said, finding her voice.

  “But you will,” he said, speaking with a firm voice and standing to go. “Enough for tonight. Two hearts must grow together slowly. I see we have more time than I thought, and that too, I must get used to. I had hoped to marry you very soon, but I see I must wait. You are worth it, Ella.”

  “I am not so sure,” Ella said, holding on to the sides of the chair and remembering her dream.

  “I am,” he said with his hand on the door. “Good night, now. Da Hah’s villa be done. Until next Saturday, then, if you will?”

  “I will see you then,” she said. What else is there to say?

  His steps were soundless as he climbed the stairs, but his buggy wheels rattled loudly as he drove out the driveway. Ella stood by the basement window to listen until the sound had died away into the distance.

  Thirty-seven

  Thankfully Preacher Stutzman didn’t preach on Sunday. To have to listen to the thunder in his voice, hear the condemnation he brought, and face her disappointment in another man seemed too much to bear. After church Ella helped with the tables, ate quickly, and then headed home, staying in the basement for the rest of the afternoon.

  Bright and early Monday morning, Preacher Stutzman pulled in the driveway with his girls, tied his horse at the hitching post, and, leaving baby Barbara in the buggy for the moment, approached the basement door, twirling his hat round and round in his hands.

  Mary ran as she neared Ella and sprang into her arms with shrieks of delight. Sarah came much slower but smiled happily at Ella as she reached her.

  “I see they still like me,” Ella said with a smile.

  “Of course they do,” Stutzman said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “I suppose they would like anyone who takes care of them,” Ella said. “It’s not just about me.”

  “Yah,” he said, “perhaps they would.” His hat went around and around in his fingers.

  “We didn’t see you on Sunday,” Mary said, “but Daett said you were in church.”

  “I do go to your district, and I was there,” Ella said, “but it was crowded.” She wasn’t about to give the reason why the girls hadn’t seen her—her deliberate attempt to avoid the attention and affection they had just shown her. In public this display would attract much more attention than she needed.

  “But we like you,” Mary said, “and we wanted to see you, but now we’re back for all week. That’s what Daett said.”

  “I’m glad too,” Ella said, giving both girls a hug. “Now we have to get your sister from the buggy.”

  “Be good girls,” Stutzman said with his hat on his head now. He walked to the buggy, brought the baby back with him, and handed her to Ella. He then knelt down, ruffling Mary’s hair in front of her little white kapp. He gave Mary and Sarah a hug. “I must be going now. There’s hay to make and silage before too long.”

  “Of course, they will be gut,” Ella said, “because they just are gut.”

  Stutzman smiled weakly, nodded, and then walked back to his buggy. Ella took the girls’ hands and led them to the house, making sure they stopped to wave at their daett from the top of the basement stairs. Their father didn’t seem to notice, his attention already elsewhere, as his horse hit the main road. How like a man. They love their families, and then they leave. Perhaps he does have plenty on his mind, like he said. Still, he could have waved to his girls.

  “Well, what have we here?” Ronda asked from the open living room window. Her head was almost a whole floor above them. “The three little angels are back with us.”

  Mary laughed. Her voice bounced in the morning air. Sarah joined in.

  “You’re just girls, aren’t you?” Ella said, pulling both of them toward her for a quick hug, while holding the baby in her other arm.

  “Yah, that’s all we are,” Mary said, nodding like she understood.

  “You’re comin’ up here for lunch later, aren’t you?” Ronda asked.

  “I can’t be putting you out all the time,” Ella said. “You’ll spoil us all.”

  “It won’t be every day. You know that. Joe’s gone for the first time since the weekend. I guess I’m lonely in this big house. It just feels so good to have someone downstairs.”

  “Then we’ll come. How about it, girls? Shall we go up for lunch with Ronda?”

  They both nodded, and the matter was settled.

  “Aren’t they dears?” Ronda cooed. “How they can come from such a hard man, I have no idea. He sure has his eyes out for you.”

  “Shhh.” Ella said, motioning toward the girls.

  “Ach, you stick up for him,” Ronda said. “The girls don’t understand, but you must have taken my words to heart by the expression on your face.”

  “Would you quit it?” Ella said, mouthing the words to Ronda and making her laugh.

  “I guess I am about as changeable as the wind. Mamm always said so anyway. I must say that bishop of yours is a much nicer prospect.”

  Ella glared at her, which only produced laughter from the window.

  “Well, I’ve got work to do,” Ronda said, shutting the window.

  Work—seemingly things always came down to that. Life was full of work. “Come,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand. “We also have to get to work, don’t we? Did you girls have breakfast?”

  “Yah,” Mary said, “Daett made some oatmeal and fried eggs.”

  “Oh.” Ella said, holding open the door. It’s tough to imagine Preacher Stutzman fixing eggs and oatmeal in any edible condition.

  Ella had no sooner settled the girls in the basement than she heard buggy wheels in the driveway. Above her, the basement door to the house opened, and she heard Ronda say, “It’s him. He’s back. What did you do to him?”

  “Shhh.” Ella whispered, looking over at Mary and Sarah, who were already busy at play on the floor.

  “I best stay with them,” Ronda said, “while you go out. I’m sure he’s not back for nothin’.”

  “Maybe he forgot something,” Ella said. “I have no idea what else it could be.”

  “Who does with that man,” Ronda said, now standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Go outside quick…before he comes in.”

  Ella turned to Mary and Sarah and said, “Girls, I’ll be right back. Ronda will stay with you until I return.” Both girls looked briefly to Ronda and went back to their play.

  As Ella walked outside, Preacher Stutzman was tying his horse. When he saw her, he waited. That could only mean one thing. He wanted to speak in private, away from the house.

  “Ronda is with the girls,” Ella said, uncertain as to how she should act.

  He nodded. His hat was not in his hands, as it usually
was when he talked to her. It was seated firmly on his head.

  “I had to speak with you,” he said with a determined voice.

  Oh, he’s using his Sunday voice, but something is different about it. The Sunday passion was there, but it also held a sort of gentleness she hadn’t expected.

  “Yah?” she said, looking up to his face.

  “I am not a man of great words. Yet I cannot let this go on like it is. I must speak to you of what is right.”

  At once Ella knew what was to come, though he hadn’t yet said the words. Like the sun rising over the hill with light and brilliance, it was clear. How she knew, she couldn’t say. But perhaps it was always this way when a man spoke his heart.

  “My daughters need a mother, and it seems they have found one in you. I cannot but speak for them…and ask for your hand in marriage.”

  Ella weighed her words. “You know I’m seeing the bishop. For that reason, I’m not free to give you an answer.”

  “Then you do not say no?”

  “I do not say no…” she said, “nor do I say yes. May I ask what you think the bishop will say when he hears of this?” Ella met his eyes. Soon his hat would come off, and he would begin circling it in his fingers. He reached for his hat as she waited.

  He took the rim in his fingers, lowered it, and held the hat tight by his side. “The bishop can say what he wishes. I will tell him to his face the rightness of my question. My daughters need the mother Da Hah has sent them.”

  “And you?” she asked. “What am I to you?”

  The red started at his neck and spread till it filled his face, but his eyes blazed. “You are more than any man deserves. Least of all me.”

  “Then you do not ask for yourself but for only your daughters?”

  How the man struggled with the answer. His hands clenched, his jaw tightened, and he stared only at the ground. “Yah. I ask also for myself. And may Da Hah forgive me.”

  “Does He need to forgive such things? That you love a woman?”

  The hat came up in his fingers, turning slowly in his hands. “For me, yah, He needs to forgive. I loved Lois more than Da Hah allows. That is why He took her.”

  “Perhaps He had other reasons. He took Aden too. Did I love too much?”

  “I know not your heart, and I cannot speak for another.”

  “You certainly seem to do so on Sundays,” Ella said with a sharp tone to her voice.

  “In this I have a great weakness,” he whispered.

  “Yah, you do,” Ella said, now searching his face.

  “Like at Aden’s funeral,” he said. “I was hard that day because I was thinking only of myself and that Da Hah had also taken Lois. I should not say such things especially in such times. My words were not from Da Hah.”

  “Yah, you should not have spoken so,” Ella said, surprised at her boldness. This, after all, was Preacher Stutzman. The thundering voice of many a sermon.

  “I am weak…and am made from the clay of the ground. You must not hold me as perfect.”

  “I do not,” she said. “Of that, you can be certain.”

  “Can you forgive me? I do need your forgiveness.”

  Ella took a deep breath. “Yah,” she said slowly, “I can forgive you.”

  A slight smile played on his face. “What, then, is your answer to my question?”

  “I cannot give it now.”

  “I am a very sinful man to even ask.”

  “Perhaps you should not judge your own heart so harshly,” Ella said.

  “Then you can give me good news—more than I dared hope for.”

  “I promise nothing,” she said quickly.

  “But you will think about it?”

  “Yah, but you should understand that I have no feelings for you.”

  His gaze fell to the ground again, and his face looked troubled. Finally the smile came back, and he met her eyes. “Then I can wait. Perhaps your heart will turn in time.”

  “I make no promises, and I will still see the bishop,” Ella said, hearing her own voice from a great distance.

  “Then I will speak with him too,” he said, his eyes flashing.

  Ella shook her head. “Nee. The bishop must not know that we have spoken. That will only keep the girls from me. I will speak to him when I have decided.”

  Silence hung between the two of them. Then the preacher said, “I have spoken my mind. It is enough, then. You can give me your answer when you are ready. I will say no more.”

  He turned and walked to his buggy, loosened the tie rope, climbed in, and slapped the reins. His buggy wheels spun on the gravel as he turned. Then, for just the briefest of moments, at the end of the driveway, he turned and glanced back.

  Thirty-eight

  “Well, what did he want?” Ronda asked. “Ella, your face has gone white. Did he really? Oh, Ella, I can’t believe it!”

  “Don’t go looking at me like that. This has all become very crazy all of a sudden,” Ella said, lowering herself into her chair. Mary and Sarah were playing with their dolls while the baby was in her crib, kicking her legs and cooing.

  “But Preacher Stutzman. Really!” Ronda said, waving her hands around. “Ach, the way he preaches. Did he actually ask to come courting?

  “Something like that.”

  “Ach, he asked to marry you, didn’t he? Tell me all about it.”

  “I can’t,” Ella said. “It’s too much.”

  “Well, at least you have a choice now—the bishop or the preacher. That’s the bright side.”

  “Oh,” Ella gasped, “the sign! I forgot about the sign. I have to change it right away. Bishop wants me to, and I should have done it first thing since I couldn’t yesterday.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ronda said. “Forget about your sign right now, whatever that means. I want to hear what you told Preacher Stutzman.”

  “Bishop wants the sign changed right away. He gave me a lecture on it Saturday night. I’d best run out and at least bring the sign in. I’ll be right back.”

  “Would you explain?” Ronda said as Ella disappeared out the door.

  Ella ran swiftly past the barn, past the fresh buggy marks in the driveway, out to the road, and retrieved her sign.

  When she came back inside, Ronda had picked up the quilt Ella had started for her customer and began to stitch on it. “I hope you don’t mind,” Ronda said. “I like to quilt. And it was just laying here. Please let me help with it.”

  “That would be helpful, I guess. I told her I’d have it ready as soon as I could.” Ella took up the other end of the quilt and began her handwork on it.

  “So what will you do?” Ronda asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ella said. “I planned on staying single after Aden died. Now I have two men after me, and what can I say but no.”

  “But you shouldn’t,” Ronda said. “Marriage is a gut thing. So what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I’d have to think about his question and that I really have no feelings for him.”

  “But you’d consider it, and I know why,” Ronda said, nodding toward the girls.

  “Yah,” Ella said.

  “Perhaps Preacher Stutzman would be better than the bossy bishop,” Ronda said, glancing at the sign now propped against the living room wall. “It sounds like he’s already ordering you around, and Stuzman’s more worthy of you. He wouldn’t be reminding you of your faults all your life. And then there’s the matter of the girls to think of.”

  “Bishop was within his rights to speak to me about the sign,” Ella said. “And I suppose I should work on submitting myself better. Aden might have been too gut for me in that way.”

  “Don’t be sayin’ such things.” Ronda motioned toward the sign. “You’re going to repaint it, aren’t you?”

  “Yah,” Ella said, standing. Ready to put action to her words, she retrieved her paint box and brushes from a closet, sat down at the table, and prepared to repaint the sign. She opened the box and selected the brush sh
e wanted, unscrewed the small paint jar lid, and dipped the bristles in. With a gentle sweep, she placed fresh paint over the letters of her name. Glancing over at Ronda’s work on the quilt, she said, “You do good work—and fast. Look at how much you’ve done already.”

  “I like to quilt,” Ronda said. “Mamm taught us well. You have to like it, though. My older sister never did. She’ll quilt when she has to but not much more than that, though. Me? I can work at it all day.”

  Ella set the sign on the table, touching it with her fingers. It was nearly blank now. She washed her hands at the wash basin and said, “If you really want to help that much, I’ll pay you for your work.”

  “I guess I’d take something but not much. How soon does this one have to be done?”

  “There’s no deadline. I told the lady I’d complete it as soon as possible.”

  “Are there any more orders after this? I haven’t seen anyone stop by.”

  “No,” Ella said. “I suspect there will be, though. All the other quilt shops do well. Mine’s just not that well-known yet. Clara’s bringing some drawings over for me to try to sell.”

  “Drawings? Of people?” Ronda asked, holding her needle suddenly still.

  Ella laughed. “Of course not.”

  “I suppose the bishop won’t say anything, then.”

  “I hope not. Mamm let me use Clara’s drawing for this quilt. That’s where it comes from.”

  “This house?” Ronda asked, motioning with her chin. Her hands were busy stitching again.

  “Yah. She’s good, isn’t she?”

  “It sure looks like this house.”

  “Yah,” Ella said, smiling, “it really does. I planned it that way.”

  Ronda’s eyes lighted up. “You can sell those drawings easily, I would think. When people see the house and the quilt together, they should sell quickly. I never would have thought of it.”