A Wedding Quilt for Ella (Little Valley 1) Page 4

  This was true, and Clara returned to the table, set the plates, and then went down to the basement for the bacon. By the time she returned, steam was rising from the heated pan Ella had placed on the stove. She cut the package open, pulled the bacon strips apart, and slid them into the pan. The crackle soon filled the kitchen.

  They worked together in silence until the screen door slammed. The first people were back from choring. Mamm, her face still wet from a quick wash at the washbasin, came in through the washroom door first.

  “Get the girls up,” she said to Clara while looking for a long moment at Ella and then giving her a hug.

  Clara wanted to join the two as they held each other tight but decided this was meant for Ella and her mother alone.

  On her usual trips upstairs to wake her sisters, Clara thought to make as much racket as she could because this usually helped prepare her sisters for her arrival. With noise they might at least stir a little before she opened the door and lit the kerosene lamp. With a light in the room and a jerk on their covers, they would get up.

  This morning, though, the usual methods didn’t seem appropriate. Clara walked quietly up to the bedroom door and opened it. With a gentle shake of their shoulders and a whispered, “Time to get up,” she roused her three younger sisters.

  Ruth popped right up, as did Ada. Martha, the four-year-old, rolled over and pulled the quilt over her head.

  “Go away,” she said. “I’m still tired.”

  “You have to get up, yah,” Clara said firmly.

  Clara pulled on Martha’s arms and stood her up beside the bed. She helped her slide on her dress. Ruth and Ada had already dressed themselves and were out the door by the time Clara followed with Martha’s hand in hers.

  Their footsteps sounded hollow in the morning silence. They didn’t say a word when they arrived downstairs but slipped quietly onto the back bench of the kitchen table. They also must remember that something had gone terribly wrong last night.

  Clara glanced around. The table was set, her mom was in the kitchen with Ella, and there was nothing more for her to do, and so she took her seat at the table.

  The bowl of oatmeal steamed on the stove, and the bacon sizzled until the time came to serve it. Ella had the last batch of fried eggs in the pan. In the washroom the splash of water could be heard as the menfolk washed up. The murmur of their voices could be heard through the utility room wall.

  Quietly they came in. Eli and Monroe sent guarded glances toward Ella as they took their seats. Their father sat at the head of the table as usual.

  He cleared his throat. “This morning we will read a Scripture. We normally don’t do this, but today is not normal.”

  Clara snuck a look at Ella’s face. She was staring straight ahead at the wall. She then glanced over to Eli and Monroe. They were sitting in silence, and from the look on their faces, they were hungry. But this morning Ella’s needs must come first.

  Mamm got up and went into the living room, returned with the big Bible, and gave it to Daett. He leafed through the pages, found what he wanted, and began to read in German. The words, the holy language, were solemn.

  “Ich werde erheben. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will not slumber.”

  Then he spoke directly to Ella, “The Lord, He will have His mercy on you, Ella, even in your sorrow and loss. You have not sinned against Him, that He should be angry with you. We do not understand how this can be or why Da Hah’s hand has come down heavy on you. Yet we be trustin’ His mercies are with you. He will give you and all of us strength for the way—for what lay ahead. He will give you His grace for this trial so that the darkness of this pain will not destroy you.

  “We know your heart is broken, and though we don’t feel the pain like you do, we do know what this pain is…to have our hearts broken. We also know that Da Hah does such things, and He alone understands what His hand does. He alone knows what the reasons are. In this trial you are asked to walk through, we know His mercies are still new every morning.”

  Ella said nothing, but fresh tears ran heavily down her face. Mamm cried too, and even Eli and Monroe sniffled a little.

  “We will pray now,” Daett said, continuing. “Then we must eat. Life will go on…even in this hour of trouble.”

  Six

  After breakfast Clara helped with the dishes, packed her lunch, and left for school. The day had dawned into a magnificent morning without a cloud in the sky. Summer’s heat was still a long time away and hard for Clara to imagine after the rough winter they had been through.

  Clara stopped in the middle of the lawn to soak in the sun’s warmth, and she felt almost guilty for enjoying the sensation. With Ella in such pain, wasn’t it wrong to enjoy anything so much? She was nearly overcome but shoved the sad thoughts away, took a great deep breath, and let the air out slowly. She allowed her eyes to take in the view in front of her. It was the best spot in the whole valley. Like her older sister, she loved their house on Seager Hill. From here the swells of land rolled away across the valley for as far as the eye could see. Below them buggies drove along the strings of blacktop roads.

  To the west, the low mountains stretched out, still white streaked with snow from the winter. Where the snow had melted, bare spots emerged with a blush of green. She laughed while she ran down the hill toward the schoolhouse, drawing in delicious breaths of air in great gulps.

  From the other direction, a buggy came up the hill. Likely it was the Miller children, Ben and Susie. They sometimes walked but must have decided to drive this morning.

  When the driver slapped his horse with the lines, the horse responded with a peculiar run. It really was Ben and his sister. Clara slowed to a walk and watched as Ben kept the horse moving at a good clip. Ben slapped the lines hard one last time and pulled left. With the speed he had, he almost made it but not quite. The old horse threw out its hooves in plenty of time, its legs spread, as if rebelling against the whole world. The driveway of the schoolyard was several yards away, but the horse was steadfast in its tracks as the buggy now blocked half the roadway.

  What a nasty horse they had. Whatever entered the horse’s brain at moments like this made it stop, and little could persuade it to continue until it decided of its own accord to move on.

  Boys came out of the schoolhouse on the run, their hats held down on their heads with one hand. One got on each side of the horse’s bridle and pulled. Two got on the back of the buggy and pushed. It was a futile effort. The horse, as usual, refused to budge.

  Ben yelled from inside the buggy in exasperation, but this didn’t do much good either. Susie climbed out, got her lunch bucket out of the back, and walked the rest of the way. The horse was Ben’s problem, not hers.

  Clara ran quickly to join Susie, having to go around the stalled buggy and exasperated boys. There was no sense in her offering to help. She didn’t have any special knack to get a balking horse on the move again.

  Down from the top of Seager Hill, one of the Englisha’s cars came, having to slow down because of the obstruction in the road. There was no doubt the situation could fast become serious if the horse wasn’t persuaded to move forward soon. In the schoolhouse, Katie would soon pull the bell rope with or without a stalled horse in the road.

  With all the excitement on the outside, Clara was ready to go inside and tell Katie about the problem. Perhaps Katie wouldn’t ring the bell until this was cleared up. She waited a moment longer while Paul, the boy who sat behind her in class, moved forward and took hold of the horse’s bridle.

  Clara watched, fascinated. Paul seemed to know just what to do. He pulled and petted the horse, talking to it and jerking firmly on the lines. Yet all was to no avail. The boys around the buggy waved their arms, pointed toward the road, and mouthed words Clara couldn’t understand. Ben hopped down from the buggy, said something, and pointed. Two of
the schoolboys left to walk down the road a ways in both directions. They held their hats in their hands and waved them like flags even though Clara could see no Englisha cars in the distance.

  Clara was again ready to go inside and explain things to Katie when a movement on the hill caught her eye. She looked closer and recognized Ezra coming up the hill at a run.

  Usually he and his sisters were late and often had to hurry, so seeing him running didn’t seem unusual. He would want to offer his help. Ezra was holding his side by the time he arrived but marched right up to the front of the horse. He then said something to Paul, causing Paul to step back. Ezra, while talking quietly to the horse, took hold of the bridle, didn’t pull or jerk on it, but reached out to stroke the horse’s nose. Moments later the horse jerked its head in response and plunged forward as if to make up for lost time. Ezra hung on to the lines and soon brought the horse under control. Masterfully and quite astonishingly, the boy knew how to talk to horses.

  When Ezra brought the buggy to a halt, the other boys swarmed around and quickly unhitched the horse. Ben led his now docile horse into the little stall they used for a horse barn during school days, and the others pushed his buggy back into place. They were just finishing when Katie pulled the bell rope.

  Clara took her seat along with everyone else as Katie walked to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

  “Boys and girls, as I think most of you know, our community has lost one of its members. Aden Wengerd has passed away. The funeral will be on Saturday. This is a tragedy for all of us, and our hearts go out to the family.” She paused a moment as all the children considered the gravity of the loss of one who was only a few years older than the older students. Then Katie said, “Now we’ll continue with our lessons. Will the first graders please come up for class?”

  That was Katie’s system. The eighth graders were called last on any subject. The first graders got to their feet and marched up the aisle to the front of the schoolhouse for class. Clara busied herself. It would be a while until Katie worked her way up to the eighth grade.

  Far sooner than she expected, Clara heard Katie announce, “Eighth grade spelling.” Clara got out of her seat and followed the others up to the benches in front. Katie waited for them to get comfortable and then gave them the spelling words orally. When the last word was given, the students handed in their completed work, and Katie dismissed the eighth graders by saying, “I’ll check your papers this evening as usual and give them back to you in the morning. I hope everyone knew their words. Most of you are gut pupils, and I don’t have to worry about you.”

  Clara smiled, still feeling as happy as she had on her way to school that morning. Even with the sad news of last night, life did go on. How strange that it should be so, Clara thought.

  As she returned to her seat, Katie called the first grade math class forward. Clara slid into her seat, set up her math book, and started to work. The line of grades would move through the aisle throughout the rest of the morning, and the eighth graders would soon be called up again.

  With her math book open in front of her, Clara struggled to concentrate, distracted by the figure of Ezra in the row across from her. He obviously struggled even harder than she did, not only with math but with almost all the subjects. Right now Ezra had his English book open.

  How could it be that a boy who could talk a stubborn horse into moving forward couldn’t complete English assignments with equal ease? It was a puzzling question. They all knew Ezra was slow, but obviously he wasn’t slow in everything.

  Returning to her own work, Clara focused on the math question in front of her. Whatever the answer was, it wasn’t coming. If she could just solve her pi problem… No wonder the preachers said the Englisha didn’t know what was important in the world. This something that looked like a curvy road on top of two posts that leaned sideways would never be studied at all if she had anything to say about it.

  It then occurred to Clara to see if Paul, from his seat behind her, was staring at her again. She turned her head just slightly, searching with the edges of her vision. Yah, he was. Her heart jumped, and she wondered how it could be that his look could cause such feeling in her heart? But what about Ella and what happened to Aden? Wasn’t this how such things started and could lead to such sorrow?

  Carefully Clara kept her eyes straight ahead. Think about the math problem, keep a clear head, and ignore him. Stay focused, and this will go away. She pulled the drawing from yesterday out of her tablet and stared at it. This is the drawing Ella said she would use in her wedding quilt. What now? Ella’s lost her love. Is she going to complete her quilt? The work is almost done except for the edges. What would happen if Ella didn’t finish it? Would someone else finish it and claim the quilt as their own after Ella has designed most of the pieces herself? Is this drawing now to be wasted? Surely no one else would want to use this in their quilt.

  Clara looked at the page more carefully. Against her better judgment, she had to admit it was beautiful and well done. It would look so wonderful on the quilt. Nee, Ella must complete the work. If not, perhaps Mamm could finish it, and they could keep the quilt in a closet until Ella healed. Perhaps she would eventually find another boy to marry. Yes, surely Ella would soon have someone else. After all, she had been snatched up quickly the first time.

  Ella was too gut a girl to be without a wonderful man. Who would the boy be this time? All the older boys were already dating someone, but Ella would find someone, and then the quilt would be needed.

  Clara placed the drawing of the house back in her tablet and returned her attention to the troublesome pi problem.

  At recess time, she carefully transferred the picture to her lunch pail. She wouldn’t let Ella see it just yet, but she wanted it at home where she could keep it safe and sound until it was needed.

  Ella would not be home tonight. She would be over at Aden’s house to sit with the body. Clara shivered. Poor Ella. What a dreadful thing to happen to so gut a sister.

  After recess, Katie called the eighth-grade students forward for math. They all moved to the front of the classroom. Clara took her completed pi problems but kept the paper inside her tablet. They are too scary to look at. What if my answers are all wrong?

  “So how’s everyone doing with their pi problems?” Katie asked as if she suspected the truth.

  Clara raised her hand. “I don’t understand it, really. Do we have to learn things like this?”

  “Yah,” Katie said with a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps if I explained it again, it would help. And maybe we can do some practice on the chalkboard.”

  “I’d like that,” Clara admitted, glancing at the others when no one else said anything. “Well, I do need the help even if no one else does.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Katie said. “How about the rest of you? Can I assume, then, that you all understood it perfectly?”

  Paul grunted but didn’t say anything as he and the rest of the class took their places at the chalkboard. The students worked under Katie’s direction until their frowns turned into smiles of comprehension. On the way back to the bench, Clara glanced up and caught Paul’s eye. He smiled a mischievous warm smile that sent thrills around her heart.

  Thinking of Ella and Aden, she quickly caught herself. Nee, I don’t want this. She slid into her seat and kept her head straight forward, but her mind couldn’t forget that glance. Several long moments passed when nothing on her desk would stay in focus. He is still looking. She was sure of it. Finally she turned around slowly, letting her eyes meet his. They were simply too beautiful to stay away from.

  Seven

  Ella, dressed in black, left with Daett and Mamm in the surrey at around eleven. Thankfully no one was in the backseat with her. It was much better this way. Dora had wanted to come along, but Mamm wouldn’t allow it. This way no one would speak extra words because they felt uncomfortable with her or, worse, pitied her.

  “You’re needed at home, Dora,” Mamm h
ad said. “Ella should be alone anyway. Let her grieve by herself. You, Eli, and Monroe can manage the chores. You can all come over afterward. Clara doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. Let her decide when she comes home from school.”

  Ella drew the vinyl doors closed on both sides of the surrey. The darkness inside deepened. It was cold outside, and she pulled the buggy blanket up higher. Mamm and Daett were vague, silent forms up front. She was alone and hidden inside. Alone. She considered the word. Is that not what I am now—alone? I might as well get used to it.

  They drove down the hill and past the schoolhouse. Thankfully they passed no one on the road. Even at the usually busy intersection at the bottom of the hill with its multiple Amish homes and businesses, there was no one. Any Amish person who saw them would know where they were headed. Even their sympathy would be intrusive at the moment.

  Later perhaps, after a little more time, the people could be faced. The funeral would be tomorrow with the house full of people. Was that not asking enough? For now each moment was a long event, a drawn-out effort to survive the pain. Each breath was a shameful event, one in which her heart went on beating and Aden’s no longer did.

  “It has been a beautiful morning,” Daett said from the seat in front. “The Lord has given us grace again for this day.”

  Ella wanted to say there ought to be rain, great buckets of it, pouring out of the sky. But then her father’s remark had not really been for her, though she couldn’t help but hear it. He usually was more sensitive to her feelings than that.

  “Yah, it is,” her mother said, “but we best not speak of it today. It is the day of Ella’s sorrow.”

  “I had not forgotten this,” her father said. “I know my daughter’s heart is broken, but we must still give thanks for what Da Hah gives us.”

  Ella gripped the edge of the buggy blanket. What was there to say? Words couldn’t begin to describe how she felt. Even if she could say them, they wouldn’t help this pain or cause it to ache any less.