Ella's Wish (19 page)

It seems there is but one thing to do. I must move on whether I want to or not. I must force myself to the act, even though my courage failed me last time. Today when the hay is done, it will be time for another attempt—another trip to ask for the widow Weaver’s hand in marriage. Ella has the girls, so there will be no need to tell Susanna. I can make the trip over to the widow’s place, return, and still be home in plenty of time for chores
.

He was resolved to do this even though his heart sank.
This will be a good marriage. Our children will get along well. They’ll be a perfect match—three girls and three boys. Nancy Weaver will make just the right kind of wife for me, a preacher. She is steady, sure, and
gut.
No, my heart won’t pound in her presence, nor will my hands grip barn door handles till they are white, but I will find a measure of joy with her
.

The sweat streaks on the horses came into focus so suddenly he almost fell off the mower seat, jerking the lines so hard. One of the horse’s sides already quivered.
What is wrong with me? Am I a man outside the will of
Da Hah?
No mistake about it. A loss of one of the Belgians
would simply be too hard to bear, a sure smiting from on high, even if it is my own fault. The horses will have to be saved at all cost
.

With great haste he unhitched the traces and walked the horses back to the barn. He left them to drink in the shade and ran to find a five-gallon bucket to dump water repeatedly over their backs. The one whose side had quivered, he paid extra attention to.

Ten minutes later, he was satisfied he had saved them, but what was to be done with the rest of the day? Now that he had overheated them, the horses would need more time to rest. There was danger in taking them out again. Yet the hay field needed to be cut today. Ivan’s mind raced for options. Two of the horses could probably work the rest of the day. The third, whose side still flinched at intervals, was out of the question. The horse could probably work tomorrow, but not today.

Perhaps I should leave now and call on the widow and finish the hay when I return. But that won’t help much, and a man ought to care for his farm duty first. Things like the search for a wife should come afterward
.

The young colt was in the barn, not quite trained yet, but perhaps he could work with the colt. Quickly he pulled the harness off the troublesome horse, led him into the barn, and released him to his stall. The colt jumped when Ivan brought him out and let the leather straps fall across his back. He soon calmed down. To help things along, Ivan placed him between the two larger Belgians. The body movements of the two would guide him and keep mischief down.

Ivan drove up and down the field, allowing the horses to rest as soon as any sign of distress showed. The time taken was worth it because the only other option would be worse—dead horses. By two o’clock he was done, and there was still time left to make the trip to see the widow. He trotted the horses to the barn, pulled the harnesses off, and turned them out into the yard. In a rush, he caught the buggy horse and had him ready moments later.

Ivan climbed into the buggy, got the horse on the road, and attempted to collect his thoughts.
Do I really want to do this?
The question presented itself again.
There still seems to be no other answer except
yes. Given the circumstances, it has to be
. He slapped the reins lest his courage fail him again.

Nancy is a wonderful woman. I should feel fortunate to obtain such a wife. That is, of course, if she will have me. We are both older and have been married before
. He considered that his desire for Ella would fade from his memory soon enough as life moved on. Yet his heart hurt inside. He drove on, ignoring the pain.

The widow’s place lay bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight as he topped the hill and turned in the driveway. He couldn’t help notice that every board on the unpainted barn showed wear and every mud hole in the barnyard looked deep. Several thin cows turned to look at him, chewing their cud slowly. Clearly the widow tried to keep the farm in good shape, but the attempt must be hard with her boys still so young.

They could use each other, Nancy Weaver and Preacher Stutzman. Already the names sounded right together, and the young bishop surely would be happy to hear of his plan. With a deep breath, he climbed out, tied his horse, and walked up to the front door.

He knocked and waited. No one came, so he knocked again. The sound of little patters of feet came from inside, and the door opened. One of the boys, whose name he didn’t know, stood looking at him.

“Good afternoon,” he said, seeing the boy had questions in his eyes. “Is your mamm home?” he asked, trying for a warm smile.

The youngster nodded but offered no more.

“I’m Ivan Stutzman,” he said, hoping the boy would recognize the name.

“I will get Mamm,” the boy finally said, leaving the door open and disappearing into the house.

Ivan saw her coming to the door. She was a tall woman with an open face, much as he had remembered her. Her apron was dusted with flour, her hands had crumbs still on them, and her feet were bare on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, I didn’t hear anyone drive in,” she said, smiling a welcome but not offering her hand. “I hope James didn’t give you any trouble. He doesn’t talk much since his father passed.” She looked to the floor for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the rightness of her pain. They were truly two souls caught in a common sorrow. “My girls are a little young yet, but I’m sure they remember as well. Lois is much missed at our house.”

She nodded. “But
Da Hah
knows best even when we don’t think he does.”

Behind her, James appeared and leaned against his mother’s side. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close.
How is the rest of the conversation to proceed with the child around?
He searched for words to say. “You still keep your farm fairly well?”

“We have to since someone has to support the boys—and myself, as far as that goes. Daett helps when he can. Next spring Amos should be old enough to work the fields. He’ll be eleven by then. It seems like a lot on a small boy’s shoulders, but
Da Hah
will give strength to bear the load, as he does for all of us.”

Ivan cleared his throat. He really needed to get back to his chores. He felt no emotion as he had with Lois, or as he would, he supposed, had this been Ella in front of him. Still, feelings or not, this was no time for doubts.

“Could I speak with you?” he asked with a slight motion of his head toward James, hoping she would understand.

“Go outside to the barn for a bit,” she said softly, and James immediately left. That much was good. The boy had been taught to obey.

The silence hung between them, and Ivan kept his gaze on the hardwood floor.

“It’s been some time now since Lois passed. Not too long, I guess, but soon enough. I have given this much thought. I know it’s not the first time for either of us, but
Da Hah
must have had His own plans.”

He glanced up to meet her eyes. “I thought perhaps…I could see you on Sunday night. Perhaps in the afternoon? I don’t know…since we’re not youngsters anymore. It’s not like we don’t know what this means or like we need a lot of time to make up our minds. Yet we should take some time—a short courtin’ time, perhaps.”

She smiled a weary smile, which summed up the situation. They were about their duty, and they both understood each other.

“I would be glad to say yes,” she said, her voice slowly wrapping around each word, “but I have already agreed to another man’s request for a visit. No, it’s more than that. Mose Troyer spoke to me almost a year ago, and I asked for some time…for a woman’s heart heals slowly when she’s loved and lost a man. Mose kindly agreed and came back last week.” She suddenly looked so very tired to Ivan. “And I told him yes.”

“You are promised?” Ivan asked, hearing the sound of his own voice off in the distance.

“I am,” she said.

“But Mose,” he managed as the image of the older farmer became clear in his mind.

“I know,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It’s hard either way, but
Da Hah
will give grace. A woman can learn to love any man with time, I suppose. Is that not our people’s belief?”

He cleared his throat, noticing that his heart beat wildly. “That’s what they say. I guess I’ve never experienced it.”

“The boys need a father, and Mose is a good man. I’ve known him for years…even before his wife passed away ten years ago. I think he loved her deeply, and I trust there are no hard feelings between us.”

“There are none,” he said, suddenly feeling an unexpected joy. “May
Da Hah
give His blessin’s to the two of you.”

“And may He meet your need,” she said, smiling her weary smile again.

Ivan nodded and reached behind to find the door. In the yard, James had come back from the barn, and Ivan stopped to speak with him. “Sounds like you will have a daett again soon.”

“Shhh.” James said, placing his finger on his lips. “Mamm told us, but no one else is to know.”

“I guess not,” Ivan said, ruffling his hair. “I’m glad to hear it, though, but I won’t tell.” He walked toward his buggy. His feet seemed to almost float on the ground.

James still stood where he left him, watching him leave. The little fellow would grow up to be a
gut
little man. Ivan could still see him when he reached the top of the hill.

So she said no. Could this possibly mean that Ella could be mine?
It was an awful forbidden thought and one he should immediately chase away. He took a deep breath, letting the emotion of it run all the way through him.

At least he had done his duty and was now free.
Da Hah
could have opened this door to the widow if that had been His will. Since He hadn’t, his desire to see Ella was no longer completely his fault.

The road stretched out in front of him. And then he remembered the bishop was still interested in Ella. For a moment there had been only Ella and him left in the whole world.

His head ached.
Ella, too, is already spoken for. Why did I not visit the widow last week as planned? Perhaps her answer would have been different then. Instead I turned around like a sinner. Now I—Ivan Stutzman—am leaving for home empty handed. What a clumsy man I am when it comes to love, and surely
Da Hah
will punish me for the pursuit of my carnal desires
.

Twenty-five

E
lla fixed the girls a supper of mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and green beans in small quantities. It was a supper like she would prepare for real company. They
were
real company, even if they were only two small children and a baby.

“Baby Barbara only takes the bottle,” Mary said, pronouncing the words slowly. “She can’t eat the big stuff.”

“Maybe she’d like to taste it,” Ella said, taking the spoon and touching the tiny offering to the baby’s lips. She opened her mouth and then puckered up her face while her jaws toothlessly chewed.

”She’s never had that before,” Mary said, astonished. “She likes it!”

“I think she does,” Ella agreed, unable to keep the catch out of her voice.
How sweet this little one is, and she’s been left totally in my care
.

“Daett always gave her the bottle,” Mary said. Beside her Sarah nodded her head.

Ella laughed. Sarah didn’t have the slightest idea what was just said. Her head just went up and down. Her little white head covering had already slipped off for the night, and her long baby hair hung down over her shoulders.

“What about Susanna?” Ella asked.

Mary shook her head. “She didn’t.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have either.” Ella said, stricken with the thought.
What is the correct age to start babies on real food? Is it eight or nine months or more like a year?

“She likes it,” Mary said, interrupting her thoughts.

Obviously this is true, but is it safe? I certainly don’t want a sick baby—or worse—on my hands!
But baby Barbara had now replaced the puckered look with one of enjoyment. Her mouth was open again. Ella took a deep breath, stuck the spoon in the mashed potatoes, touched it to the gravy, and then slipped the spoonful into the waiting open mouth.

Mary threw her head back and laughed. Sarah imitated the motion and let her own laugh bubble out of her throat. Ella finally joined in. She felt bold, alive, and deeply moved by these three, and the emotion startled her.
Is this what it’s like to be a mother and have children like Aden would have given me?

Quickly she wiped baby Barbara’s mouth.
I can’t get too attached. They go back home soon and will eventually live with the woman Preacher Stutzman will marry
.

“Shall we help with the dishes?” Mary asked.

“You’re a little young,” Ella said.

“Sometimes we help Daett. We really do.”

“You help Daett?” Ella asked and left the rest unsaid.
It is simply impossible to imagine—the sight of Preacher Stutzman with his hands in the dishwater bowl and a little girl on a chair beside him. Is the man from Sunday’s fiery sermon really capable of such a task?

Mary nodded. “Sarah wants to help, but she’s too small.”

“I guess she is,” Ella’s said with another catch in her voice.

“I’m not,” Sarah said loudly. “I’m big!”

“Why don’t you both help, then?” Ella said, seeking compromise. Neither would be of much help, but the gesture was what mattered.

Ella heated the water on the stove and transferred the dirty dishes to the counter. She set the baby on a blanket on the kitchen floor. She kicked her feet, raised her hands into the air, and watched Ella’s every move. Mary was already dragging a chair across the floor, and Ella completed the task by grabbing another one for Sarah. Ella helped little Sarah up while Mary made the jump onto her own.