Ella's Wish (16 page)

“Ella,” Lizzie said, touching her hand, “what are you thinkin’?”

“What Preacher Stutzman said today,” she whispered.

“In church?”

Ella nodded.

“Then
Da Hah
has already spoken to you? In the sermon?”

“It seems so,” Ella said through dry lips. The memory of her dream and her fear rose strong, but she kept her hands still, gripping the quilt. Before her the road seemed blocked in all directions, and only one path lay open. That path led straight into the bishop’s arms as his wife.

“You cannot know what joy is in our hearts…your daett and mine,” her mom said. “Not only has Eli received help, but he is like a changed boy since the bishop spoke with him. We find this such an honor—that such a worthy husband should turn up for you. After what
Da Hah
has torn from your heart, it now seems He has given back even more than He took. You must open your heart, Ella, and see what
Da Hah
is doing. This is so plain for the rest of us to see.”

“I loved Aden,” she whispered. “It has not been long yet.”

“Yah, I know,” Mamm said, stroking her arm. “Our little girl is all grown up now. I thought you had been asked to carry more than your heart could take. But now I see
Da Hah
does know what He’s doin’. It was just my earthly eyes unable to see this all the time.
Da Hah
has taken Aden, who you loved, and He has given you back much more. Almost like Job of old.”

“Mamm,” Ella said, her voice barely rising to a whisper. Lizzie didn’t seem to hear.

Mamm looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. “It’s about chore time. Are you stayin’ for supper?”

“I can’t stay long because I have to get back before dark. The Stutzman girls come tomorrow morning already.”

“I guess you do have your own house to keep. Perhaps I can send some supper back with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Ella said, standing on her wobbly legs. “I’ll help chore, though. I don’t mind doing that.”

“I’m sure the girls would appreciate it,” Lizzie said as she reached for the doorknob. “I’m so thankful for your good sense, Ella. You always did have a good head on you. This will be hard for a while, I suppose. I don’t know because I’ve never been through this exactly. But the bishop’s a
gut
man. He’ll make a right
gut
husband for you. Don’t expect the feelings to be exactly the same for a while, not like they were for Aden. They can’t be, but you’ll love Bishop for what he is, especially by the time of your weddin’.”

“I don’t know,” Ella said, stepping toward the door. She suddenly felt dizzy.
There really is little use in further discussion. How has this all happened, and so fast? I love my faith, my parents, my place in their world, and now they all seem to point in one direction, toward the image of Rebecca—submissive and meek before the will of those around her
.

“You have suffered so much,” her mother said, embracing her in a long hug. “Daett and I are so glad for what has come your way. We can rest in peace at night now…even with you alone over there in that big house of yours. Now that we know the bishop will keep his eye on you and someday soon take your hand in marriage. You are so blessed, Ella. You really are.”

“He hasn’t come by yet,” Ella said. Her voice was weak, but a faint hope started to rise in her chest.
Perhaps he won’t come
.

“He’s not stayin’ away for long,” Lizzie said, knowingly. Ella tried to breathe as they walked downstairs. She tried to keep a smile on her face as everyone prepared for chores.

“You can borrow one of my chore dresses,” Dora said, and Ella followed her back upstairs. Alone in the room, Dora turned quickly toward her.

“So what goes? It seems some sort of mix-up happened between you and the bishop.”

“You can say that,” Ella said, giving Dora the story.

“You’re still not for him, then?”

“Not really.”

“Then why go along with it?”

“Several things,” Ella said, not feeling up to a lot of details. Dora might not understand anyway. “Mamm and Daett are really for it.”

“I am too, if that means anything,” Dora said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I always was. Now that I saw the bishop with Eli the other night, I’m even more so. He’s a real
gut
man. All the things we’ve ever heard about him are true. All of them, Ella. Eli told me a little about the bishop’s talk after he left. He really made Eli see what all was at stake. The bishop told the story of our forefathers and what they stood for. Eli said he had never heard things quite like that before. The bishop told Eli how he must not let even the love of a woman draw him away from his heritage. He even told him a story from the
Martyrs Mirror
. Eli had never heard of the story before, but we looked it up in Daett’s copy. It was about this young man who left his wife and two small children to give his life for the faith. Those are
our
people Ella, and how can any of us ever think to turn our backs on them?”

“I’m glad he helped Eli,” Ella managed.

“You have a lot to be thankful for,” Dora said, handing her a dress from the closet. “We all do.”

“That’s something, coming from you.”

“Oh, I could be all blue about it, I suppose.”

“Oh?” Ella said, sitting down on the bed. The chores could wait a few minutes.

“I guess I’m pretty down about my own prospects, is all. You seem to get all the really wonderful men. Aden and now Bishop comes callin’ for you. Why don’t I attract that sort of attention?”

“You can have the bishop,” Ella said, but she knew Dora didn’t hear the words or the attempted tease in her voice. Dora had walked over to the window, where she was looking out across the fields.

“I still haven’t given Norman his answer,” Dora said as her mood darkened. “He said he might not come back again.”

“He’s not serious, surely.” Ella said, walking over to Dora and putting her arm around her shoulder.

“I’m afraid so. He’s got his eye on someone else, I think.”

“But he asked you, didn’t he? Who said there was another girl?”

“He didn’t have to. I know it already. No one wants me, Ella.”

“So why not tell him yes? You like him, and you could be married after you’re twenty-one. Perhaps he’ll be back soon, and you can tell him then.”

“Not in a blue moon, he won’t. He’s gone. That’s why I think you should be thankful, Ella—
really
thankful for the men
Da Hah
keeps sendin’ to you.”

“You shouldn’t be saying things like this,” Ella said as her heart sank again, “but I guess we’d better get to the chores.”

“Always duty callin’,” Dora said, turning away from the window. “And when do I get my turn at joy?”

“It will come,” Ella said, but Dora didn’t look convinced.

“You do believe that?”

“Yah, if you stop being so dark about everything.”

“Yah,” Dora said, nodding, “I guess I’d best get out of my dumps and get about my duty. That’s what you’d do. And I do want to make the hymn singin’ tonight. You comin’?”

Ella shook her head.

“That’s right. You have the bishop now,” Dora said, holding the door open for her.

They walked out to the barn together. The familiarity of it all—the impertinent rush of the cows, the sound of milk in metal pails, and the lift of one’s spirits that always came when choring with her family—brought tears to Ella’s eyes. Surprising herself, she consented to stay for supper afterward.

“I’ll get your horse for you,” Eli said after supper was over.

“I’ll come over when Mamm lets me,” Clara said, standing at the front door.

“You do that,” Ella said, stepping outside. She waited while Eli brought the horse from the barn, and then she held the shafts up for him.

“I want to thank you for sendin’ the bishop over,” Eli said, holding the horse bridle in his hand. “You do a lot of people good with your life.”

“I didn’t send him, Eli.”

“He came because of you. That much I know.”

“I suppose so,” Ella said, fastening the tugs on her side. “I’m just glad you’ve gotten some sense into that thick head of yours.”

“Now if it stays in,” he said with a broad smile.

“It had better,” she said with a stern voice as she climbed into the buggy.

He let go and slapped the horse across the backside as it went by.

Twenty-one

E
lla drove toward the big house on Chapman Road, letting the horse have his time. The morning would come soon enough, bringing with it Preacher Stutzman’s children. How early, it was hard to tell, but his arrival surely wouldn’t be long after dawn. She imagined the moment when the three girls would be alone with her.
Will they be frightened? Should they have been told more? Has Preacher Stutzman taken the time to explain properly where they will be left?

How like a man to not even offer an introduction beforehand. He will probably just drive in and drop his children off with me—in the care of a strange woman
. She slapped the reins sharply, and the horse jumped, jerked his head, and instantly increased his pace. He turned his head toward her for a brief moment as if he thought she had lost her mind.

“Got to get home,” she said in explanation.

Her hands tensed on the reins.
How smooth it had been of the bishop to call on my parents without my knowledge. Yet, perhaps he had gone simply out of the goodness of his heart, moved by compassion for Eli. Is the man not highly esteemed by Daett and Mamm, and aren’t they usually right? They had been about Aden. Never have I heard a complaint come out of their mouths about my choice of a husband
.

On the last corner, just before the hill rose enough to see the house, she caught a glimpse of her driveway and the waiting buggy. The horse was standing at the hitching post. She had never seen the bishop’s buggy in the daylight, but Ella knew that Bishop Miller had come to call.

For a moment she considered turning around on the road, rushing back down the hill, dashing into her parents’ place for the night. The reason could be easily explained that she simply wanted to spend the night at home. Ella hesitated as her hands tightly clutched the reins.

The matter was decided before she could make up her mind. The bishop climbed out of his buggy and produced a rope from behind the seat. He glanced down the hill in her direction. He had seen her. There was no way to turn back now. With tight lips, she willed herself forward, even slapping the reins to cover for her nervousness.

“This could be worse,” she said quietly to herself. “You’ll just have to learn to like him since he’s a
gut
, solid, and kind man. He wouldn’t have talked to Eli for any other reason.”

“Good evening,” the bishop said when she pulled up. He reached for the bridle and guided the buggy to a halt in front of her barn. She wanted to tell him she normally parked on the other side but didn’t dare.

“Good evening,” she said, trying to smile.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” he said, patting the horse on its head and beginning to unhitch.

There was little choice but to dismount and help on the other side.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expectin’ you. I didn’t know when you’d come.”

He nodded. His expression was one of understanding, and his blue eyes were bright in the last light of the summer sky. “I don’t need to stay long if you have things to do.”

“No,” she said with resolve. “I have some things to get ready for tomorrow, but please come in.”

Ella felt herself relax a little. Her smile strengthened, and she held the buggy shafts while he took the horse forward. She then led the way to the barn, and he followed with the horse in tow.

She almost told him what she wanted done for the horse—how much grain to give—but it didn’t seem appropriate for some reason. The bishop’s manner squelched that sort of exchange. He led the horse to the water and then slapped the horse’s backside, watching him trot out to the enclosed field.

She held the front door of the house open for him, and he walked inside and removed his hat, holding it till she motioned toward the table. He walked over and left his hat there.

“Not quite unpacked yet,” she said, smiling. She was not certain he could see her in the semidarkness. He waited while she found a lantern and began to pump the air handle.

“I can light that,” he said softly, and she let him.

She went into the bedroom to leave her bonnet and shawl. Behind her, Ella heard the lantern catch with a soft pop, and light flooded the living room. “I’m not really ready for company, but Mamm fed me supper tonight. I still don’t have much in the house in the line of food,” she said, motioning for him to take a seat beside her on the couch.

The pain shot all the way through her body. This was how she had faced Aden those hundreds of times over the years—on the couch at home. But this wasn’t Aden. The emptiness almost choked her.

“That’s fine…about the food,” he said with warmth and confidence. “I didn’t come to eat. I had supper at home.”