Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2) Page 2

  “So why are you suddenly so cheerful about something?” Ella asked. “Normally we’d be hearing the dark side of things from you.”

  “It’s because this is such a good chance for you—a chance to start over with a gut man. That’s why. I can feel it all the way down to my bones. In time, the bishop’s love might be almost as gut as Aden’s had been. The second time around usually happens that way.”

  “My heart hasn’t healed up, and that’s that.” She had glared at Dora, who only shook her head in response.

  “Mamm and Daett approve wholeheartedly.” Dora got in her last and best shot.

  But as someone else’s wife. Ella shivered again. Her coming wedding to Aden had been close enough that she had almost imagined the promises being said in front of the bishop. No, I won’t marry another man. I will choose my own way. Having my own house helps.

  Still, guilt gnawed at her. Am I being stubborn and displaying the family trait like Eli? Do I have the right to live my own life while others might need me—such as young Bishop Wayne Miller? He had not yet found a girl whom he considered worthy of marriage. Can I survive as a single woman if I reject him? Will it be allowed? Can I allow it myself?

  Ella glanced toward Clara, who had fallen asleep. Her book was crooked on her lap, her head was tossed back, and her white covering was crushed against the couch fabric. She was the picture of innocence; of what life was like before adult burdens descended.

  Oh, for youth! For the carefree hours when life seems like an open road on a summer morning, and the horse stands rested and ready for travel! But I am so tired now. True, it is late, but that does not cause my weariness. It’s life that has left me weary despite my being so young.

  With reluctance, she got up and walked over to where Clara slept, her body slumped in a half upright position. Clara was too big to carry to bed, and so Ella gently shook her shoulder. Clara sleepily opened her eyes, and her hands grasped the cover of the book before it slid to the floor.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she murmured.

  “Kumma,” Ella whispered. “I’ll help you to bed.”

  Clara got up with Ella’s hand on her shoulder, and the two walked toward the bedroom. Ella found Clara’s night clothes in her suitcase and helped her change and crawl under the covers. She tucked the quilt around her and whispered, “Good night.”

  Clara simply rolled over and gave no response.

  Ella returned to the kitchen table and thought of sleep, her eyelids heavy. The gas lantern hissed above her. Its sound was like that of her people’s lives—steady, quiet, private, and at peace with the world around them.

  Ella struggled to think. There is the matter of money and Eli. Those looked like the first two things needing attention. The amorous bishop would have to be dealt with when he showed up, and each moment would have to be taken from there. Da Hah helped me before—even if I couldn’t understand His ways—and there is no reason to believe He won’t continue to do so.

  He will surely help me with Eli’s stubbornness. I will have to tell my parents, but how will Eli react from the pressure that’s to descend upon him? Will he give the girl up? Eli has several good prospects among the Amish girls, and all might be lost if even the slightest report of his actions becomes known.

  Can it be kept in the family? Ella almost thought it could, and a moment later, she was certain it could. Relief flooded through her. I will tell Mamm what I know, and Eli can be dealt with at home. Further secrecy on my part is no longer in order. Tomorrow I will take Clara back and tell them everything.

  What then to do about the money? Ella frowned. It felt distasteful to look at things in such stark terms, but there was no doubt she needed a source of income. With quick scribbles her pen added up numbers on the paper but again found no concrete answer.

  To her surprise and amidst deep thought, there came a sharp knock on the front door. The sound vibrated through the still house, and Ella jumped. Who could be at the door at this hour of the night? She pushed against the table to scoot her chair back and stood up. The motion caused her papers to slide across the table. Her pen rolled across the tabletop and dropped noisily to the floor.

  Three

  Ella listened quietly but heard nothing. How could someone come to my door without me hearing them? The blood suddenly pounded in her ears. Never had she felt such fear at home. Daett was always there to answer the door. Is this fear and distress when visitors call to be a part of my new life? Is this even a visitor?

  With a deep breath, Ella got up slowly while pressing her hand against her chest. It’s nothing, she told herself and walked toward the front door with as steady a step as she could manage. She opened the door slowly. Her breath caught in her throat when she was unable to make out the form in front of her. At least he wore the familiar broad hat. At the moment, anything familiar was a comfort.

  “Sorry to be botherin’ you at this time of the night,” Daniel timidly spoke through the darkness.

  “Ach, that was a bit of a start!” She sighed in relief, her hand on her chest again. “Maybe I’m just uneasy, this being my first night in the house and all. But do come in.”

  “It’s kind of late,” he said, nodding and stepping inside. The soft light of the gas lantern fell on his unsmiling face.

  “You look troubled,” Ella said. “What brings you out on this late night visit?”

  “I need to speak with you,” he said.

  “Are you wantin’ to sit down?” she offered as he nervously turned his hat in his hands. “I don’t have much seating space, yet. Just the couch and kitchen chairs.”

  “It’s nice.” He seemed to relax a little, and the hat fell to his side. “I just needed to speak with you. The matter’s been heavy on my heart for some time.”

  “Yah?” She offered him a seat by motioning with her hand and stepping toward the couch. Daniel followed her and sat down after she did. Ella studied his face, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  “I’ve been meanin’ to say this for some time,” he said with an unsteady voice. “Ever since the house was done, and I’m sorry I haven’t got around to it before now. I guess I’m not like Aden, who was so certain of himself. I’m clumsy, and I hope you don’t hold that against me.”

  She laughed suddenly. The sound bubbled up from inside of her. “I like you for that. It’s one of the gut things about you.”

  “It is?” His face lit up, and relief showed plainly on his face. “It’s nice to hear you say that since I’m clumsy with words and with other things like that. Sure, I can build a house okay, I guess, but…Well, it’s just the way it is.”

  “Yah, this is a gut house but a little lonely tonight.” She smiled, hoping to place him at ease. “I will always be grateful to you for it. You put in many long hours for not much money.”

  “I was paid enough, considerin’ it was for my brother.”

  “I had hoped so. I expect you could have made more working for regular carpenter’s wages from some of the Englisha people.”

  “I was glad to do it for you and for Aden.” He managed a weak smile. “The deed is transferred, and I think the lawyer’s office just drew up the last of the papers this week. I talked to him when I was last in Randolph. It’s now your house, clear and free. I also put your signature on Aden’s bank account and took mine and Daett’s off. There should be enough money to do you for a while. Everything else—the horse and the buggy—is paid for.”

  “I am thankful for all you and your daett have done,” Ella said. “For what you did and for what everyone else did, I am so grateful. I can never repay everyone.”

  “It’s as Aden would have wanted it.” Daniel nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. “We were pleased to do what we could.”

  “I was just trying to figure out how to make some money,” she said, laughing and pointing toward the papers on the kitchen table. “I’ve got to do something soon. I can’t just keep living on what Aden left me.”

  He cleared his throat. With a p
ained expression on his face, he said, “That’s what I wish to speak of. Well, in a manner of speakin’, it’s about you and me.”

  “Yah?” She gave him a strange look. The sudden thought of what he might be prepared to say startled her. Surely he wouldn’t.

  “I have been meanin’ to say this. Many times I have, but now is the time. I’m thinkin’—what with you in your new house and startin’ over and all—perhaps you would think of…somethin’ else that’s new even though it’s not new for me.”

  She lowered her head, not daring to look. He does mean to ask the question!

  “I know I’m not Aden, and I can never be, but my heart has been drawn to you during all this time we’ve worked together. I suppose you might not have thought of it, and I’m thinkin’ that’s also a gut thing for both of us. It made our time together more comfortable. I know it did for me, at least. Now, even though I can never take Aden’s place, perhaps we could make a new place for each other in our hearts. Start over, sort of. Perhaps we could start over with a new life—which neither of us planned for—but Da Hah has opened up the way for.”

  “You and me?” she mouthed the words barely above a whisper and pointed a finger toward herself. “You are thinking we could—”

  “Yah,” he said. A light now lit up his face. “I know I am not as good as Aden, but I am still Daniel, and you said you liked that.”

  Ella paused but only for a moment. “But not in that way. More like family—like my brothers. You know I’ve always thought of you like Eli and Monroe.” She almost choked on the words.

  “That was the best way.” He nodded as if the thought wasn’t new to him. “That is the way of our people. But what could be better than someone you already know like your own family? We could love each other, Ella. With time we could. We have already built a house together.”

  “But what about Arlene?” she sputtered. “You have a wedding planned surely by now. You can’t be calling it off. She has been your girl for years already.”

  He shook his head. “We have never planned anything, let alone gettin’ around to speaking of a wedding date. And now I know why, Ella. I know why it was not to be with Arlene. I was meant to be with you, Ella. This love I feel for you, I never felt it while Aden was here, and I am glad for that. It would have been dishonorable. But now, Da Hah has given His permission.”

  Ella couldn’t find words. “You had best just go home,” she finally managed. “If Arlene ever finds out anything about this, tell her you made an awful mistake. Perhaps your mind was confused…or something like that. But you must not do this, Daniel. You and I are family, but we cannot love each other—not in that way. It cannot ever be.”

  He looked at her with genuine pain on his face. “Then I am not gut enough for you. You think me unworthy?”

  “Daniel,” she said, meeting his eyes, “I feel like a sister to you, and I will say what I would say to my brothers. You must come to your senses. You must go back to Arlene right away. At least in your heart, you must make this right with her. I will never love you, Daniel—not as my husband and not like Arlene does. Can you understand that?”

  He hung his head. “Then we can never have what you and Aden had. That’s what I was wantin’, and I was wantin’ it bad. Arlene and I don’t have what you and Aden had.”

  “Daniel,” she declared, “everyone is different. You can’t go looking at other people and wanting what they have. You and Arlene are made for each other. She loves you. I know she does because I’ve seen her when she looks at you.”

  “But I’m wantin’ something better,” he said. “Aden was always better than I was.”

  She stood up. With exasperation filling her, she took a deep breath and tried again. “You’re needing some sense pounded into your head, Daniel, but I’m not knowing how to do it. Nor will I be trying. You can’t go through life muddling around like this. You need to be a man and appreciate what you have. You need to enjoy what you have—someone like Arlene—and accept who you are. Arlene’s a gut, nice girl and the best one for you. She’s the best you’ll be seeing in a long, long time. There are a lot of other boys out there, Daniel, who would love a chance with her.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said while holding his hat. “I was just speakin’ my heart.”

  “Then it’s best you don’t speak your heart,” she snapped and then softened her tone at the look of dismay on his face. “You are like a brother to me, Daniel, but you best be growin’ up. And that right fast.”

  “I’ll try,” he muttered. “I’m awful clumsy about such things.”

  “You’d best not be saying stuff like that either,” she said. “Arlene doesn’t want to hear it. No one wants to hear it. You are what you are, and you can’t be changing that. Arlene likes you because you are Daniel, and don’t be forgetting that or trying to be like someone else. Now you’d best be going, and I hope Clara hasn’t been awakened to hear this.”

  “Then we cannot be…together? Ever?” he asked as he got to his feet.

  Her exasperation returned. “I see nothing I said got through that head of yours. I wouldn’t have thought it so thick. But, no, it cannot be. If you don’t quit soon, we can’t even be what we are now, which is friends.”

  “It’s best not to be that either, then,” he said, placing his hat on his head and turning to go. “Good night. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  She followed him to the door and would have given him a smile had he looked back, but he went out into the darkness without a backward glance. Moments later, his buggy wheels rattled on the gravel. Ella remained at the open door until the last sound of his horse’s hooves on the blacktop had died in the distance.

  The stars were out, and their bright twinkle called to her. A few steps took her out from under the porch roof and into their full glory. From wherever he was, she wondered if Aden had watched this exchange. Had he seen his foolish brother tonight? Then she felt a twinge of guilt. Did I encourage Daniel in some way? Did I give him reason for this, even perhaps unintentionally?

  Carefully she searched her memory and her heart. To her relief, no accusation arose to blame her. Ella sighed, thankful that no further burdens descended to her shoulders. The least she could do was stop in and speak with Arlene. Perhaps that would smooth things over if she ever found out. Beyond that, the boy would not be her responsibility.

  With a weary heart, she stepped inside, forgetting the stars. In the kitchen, she turned out the gas lantern and found her way to the bedroom in the dark. She climbed into bed beside Clara as sheer exhaustion swept over her. Sleep came quickly.

  Four

  Bishop Wayne Miller wrinkled his brow and continued to study for his Sunday morning sermon. He reached over to turn the kerosene lamp beside his couch still brighter. The flickering flame lit up the off-white pages of the Martyrs Mirror, but still he squinted his eyes. Is it worth lighting the gas lantern? he wondered for a moment and then settled back on the couch.

  The testimony and life story of the martyred girl fascinated him. It would make an excellent addition to the planned sermon. It was his turn to preach, but as bishop he wouldn’t have to abide by it if a visiting minister was present.

  On the pages before him, the young widow from a long ago day had withstood both the thumb nail torturer and the insistent interrogation of her capturers. But in the end, she bravely faced the flames and through death was, no doubt, rejoined to her husband.

  He saw the story in his mind so clearly and with great intensity. He would tell the story with great sober tones, and surely there would be no one who would sleep through it. At age twenty-three, the young man’s first ordination had come, and two years later, the lot had fallen again on his shoulders—this time for bishop. And he was still not married. He felt the pressure of time pressing in and desired a gut woman to live with him in his house. It was time the matter was settled.

  How that fit in with martyrdom, he wasn’t certain, but another girl stirred his thoughts. She was definitely not
a martyr. Ella was young and beautiful and he was definitely a man and a bishop. He had desires like other men, and they were not to be ashamed of. He owned his farm and had his cabinetmaking business out in the shed.

  No woman had ever stirred his emotions as Ella Yoder had. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to make a move after she lost her boyfriend. He could have waited longer before going to speak with her, but there was plenty danger to waiting. She would not stay unspoken for long. He was certain of that.

  He pondered the situation as he watched the kerosene lamp flicker and lightly stroked the Martyrs Mirror he held in his lap. How holy these people of long ago had been. They were great in their faith; solid under physical torture and faithful in death. How he wanted to measure up to them and reach the heights they had obtained.

  Were any of these martyrs ever racked with longing like I am? Had they ever wanted to love a woman like I do? I want to hear the sound of her feet on my kitchen floor, see her hands pick up my dishes, watch her prepare my food, feel her fingers on my hand at our wedding day, and see a smile in her eyes when they meet mine.

  What did the fire of the stake, the loneliness of the dungeon cell, or the joy of a martyr’s death have to do with what I feel? Little, he was sure, and yet he had these feelings, and he was certain he would claim Ella Yoder for his wife.

  Ella took his breath away with the poise of her bearing, with the sound of her voice, with her presence of mind, and with her loyalty to Aden’s memory. She was all he wished for and so much more. Da Hah, who supplied all things in their own good time, had given him a chance at a great gift.

  Soon he would go to speak with her again. He lay his Martyrs Mirror aside, unable to concentrate any longer. The time was late anyway, and he really needed to be in bed. He shifted on the couch, attempting to find a more comfortable spot. That will all change when Ella marries me. We will purchase new furniture. They wouldn’t buy anything fancy because he was a bishop and needed to set the example, but the new one would be better than the old couch he had found at an Englisha garage sale. He had driven by in his spring wagon, not meaning to stop. Usually it wasn’t worth the time to check for furniture at such places because the Englisha often had flowers or patterns on the upholstery, making them unusable for an Amish home.