Ella's Wish (Little Valley 2) Page 5

  Whether this was true or not, Ella wanted to clamp her hand across Clara’s mouth, but the words had been spoken. She held her breath and watched her mom’s face.

  Mamm seemed lost in her own world of grief, but slowly she turned toward Clara. “I know, child. I do,” she said, her voice soft. “We all do whether we should or not. I’m just overcome at the moment. I know Ella and Dora meant no harm. I might have done so myself if my brother had been seein’ an Englisha girl. But what are we to do now? Eli is seein’ a girl of the world, and your daett must be told.”

  “I can tell him,” Clara whispered as Ella and Dora sat on each side of Mamm with their arms around her shoulders. In the silence of the living room—the familiar scene of a thousand family gatherings—they all wept together.

  Eight

  “Ach,” Mamm finally said, “here we sit like boblis, and the day’s work has not been done yet.”

  “I can go tell Daett,” Clara repeated her offer and looked relieved the tears had stopped.

  “No, I’d best go tell him,” Ella said, getting up from the couch. The action seemed right to her, that she—the one who had known before—should be the one to break the news to her father.

  “Not now.” Her mom stood. “There is hay to put up, and we have the wash to do.”

  “But I have to get home,” Ella said, the words sounding strange in her mouth. This had been her home, and now it wasn’t.

  “We must speak of this…as a family,” her mom said, “but it cannot be done now. Not with the hay in the field. Could you stay for the day and help out? Perhaps stay for supper? Then we could talk afterward. You can even stay for the night if you want to.”

  Ella considered the question with surprise. I really am grown up. Only last week Mamm would not have asked.

  “It would help out…a lot,” her mom added with a worried look on her face.

  “Then I will,” Ella agreed with a weak smile. “The house can just wait.”

  “Is the place locked up? Did you bank the stove before you left?” Mamm asked.

  Ella nodded. “Things will be okay.”

  “Then it’s decided, and you’re staying. There is something I needed to tell you, but I had forgotten, what with the news of Eli’s doin’s. Sarah also said Joe and Ronda are lookin’ for a place to rent.”

  “They’re getting married soon,” Dora said loudly from the kitchen.

  “But what’s that got to do with me?” Ella asked.

  “Well, I was thinking. With you in that big house—why, it’s big enough for three families—they could live upstairs, and you could make some extra money. I know you’ll be needing money since you’re living on your own now.”

  “For how long?” Ella asked, trying to imagine another family in her house. She did need the money, so she was slow to express her concern.

  “Think about it,” Mamm said, “but you do need to let Ronda know soon. I expect they could live in her mamm and daett’s dawdy haus for a while if they have to, but this would be much better.”

  “They’re startin’ to bale,” Dora hollered from the kitchen. “It’s time to go. Are you comin’?”

  “I sure do appreciate this,” Mamm said as Ella and Dora left the house together.

  “This was nice of you,” Dora added once they were outside, walking quickly up the long lane where their dad had the baler parked.

  “I couldn’t say no,” Ella replied. “It’s not like I have much to do at home other than sit around and think about how to live my life.”

  “Looks like Eli’s got our evening taken care of,” Dora said, glancing across the knee-high grass in the center of the lane.

  “I sure was wrong on that one,” Ella confessed. The words felt good to say. Not that they changed the situation, but confession did benefit the soul.

  “I suppose I was too,” Dora agreed.

  “I shouldn’t have tried to straighten him out by myself like Mamm said. It wasn’t my place.”

  “You know she does the same.” Dora bent over and caught a long stem of grass in her fingers. The piece refused to tear, and she refused to let go or break her stride. With a jerk the grass came up by the roots. The heavy end snapped forward, and Dora stepped sideways without even a backward glance so that it missed her legs. She let go on the upward arch, and the whole thing flew over the fence.

  Ella watched the grassy missile land with a thud and wished she could get rid of her troubles that easily, to just sidestep them and let them go.

  “She does,” Dora repeated.

  “I know. I suppose we all do, but it still doesn’t make it right.”

  “I’m thinkin’ of quitting Norman,” Dora said, her voice quiet. “There are too many things I want to change about him.”

  “Just because of what Mamm said this morning?”

  “Maybe in part.” Dora shrugged. “I’ve been thinkin’ about all his faults lately anyway.”

  “That’s just the dark side of you speaking,” Ella said, trying to sound hopeful. With Dora it was hard. “You’ll get over those feelings. Norman’s a nice match for you.”

  “He asked to marry me. He asked on Sunday night.”

  “Then why are you moaning?” Ella smiled. “That sounds like good news to me.”

  “I haven’t even told Mamm, and I don’t want to until I know for certain.”

  “But you told him the answer, surely?”

  Dora shook her head. “I told him I’d have to think about it. Ella, did you ever get scared with Aden once you knew for sure?”

  Ella wished she could say she had been, if for no other reason but to comfort Dora. Dora took her silence as the answer, and her face darkened. “See, that’s what I mean. I want to have what you and Aden had.”

  “It’s not the same for everyone,” Ella said. “Love comes in all kinds of ways.”

  “That’s what you say, and yet you’ll always be lookin’ for the same thing again all the days of your life. You’ll even turn down the offer from the bishop just because he’s not like Aden. And still you want me to accept that love’s different. Don’t you think you should be doin’ the same?”

  “What makes you say that?” Ella said a little too sharply even in her own judgment.

  “Because it’s the truth, and you need to hear it.” Dora plucked another stem of grass. This time the stalk detached itself easily. She bit off a piece and tossed the rest by the lane.

  “I’m not marrying anyone,” Ella said firmly. “I’ve told you that before—you and Mamm and Daett.”

  “You should listen to your own words—the ones you just spoke to me.”

  “That’s different. You never lost the one you loved with all your heart. There is just one Aden. That’s all. Only one, Dora. There will never be another one.”

  “I might not have lost my beloved, yet losing and never havin’ come much closer than you think.”

  “I’m not taking Bishop just because someone thinks I ought to.”

  “Many of the girls would fall over backwards in their rush to take his hand. You know that, Ella. Are you too high and mighty for his offer?”

  “Would you take his offer?” Ella asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dora shrugged. “I don’t think I’m the bishop’s high and mighty wife material. The match really would make us both unhappy.”

  “The sun has addled your brain, Dora. As sure as it’s shining, it has.”

  Dora laughed. “It’s the truth that hurts, they say. This sure sounds like its hurting, sure as Norman’s buggy’s wheels will be heard here on Sunday.”

  “I think we have enough trouble with Eli without adding in the dear bishop.”

  Dora laughed again. “I suppose so, and I guess Eli’s out of our hands now. Daett would be whoppin’ his tail if he wasn’t so big already.”

  Ella shook her head. “I wish it were that simple, but people do grow up. And Eli’s grown up, I’m afraid. Her face darkened. Serious trouble lay ahead this evening, and there seemed little she
could do about it. Ahead of them the baler sat, already fired up. Its diesel engine belched black smoke. The wagon, full of loose hay, sat beside it. Eli stood on top, ready to pitch the hay to the ground for Monroe to heave into the baler.

  Both of the brothers noticed them at the same time and waved their hats high in the air.

  “Someone’s glad to see you,” Dora muttered.

  “Look who crawled out of her fancy house,” Eli shouted. “The queen of the south has come down to walk on the ground.”

  “With her robes lifted high,” Monroe added, laughing. His voice could barely be heard above the noise of the engine.

  A lump caught in Ella’s throat. How could Eli be so normal, so cheerful, so like her brother, when he did such awful things on weekend nights? She wanted to run to him, shake him up, order him to behave, stop what he did, and make him return to the straight and narrow way, but it would do no good. Eli was way too stubborn to listen to her. Soon her father would be involved, and Eli might still not change his ways.

  “She is silent. Her pride has gripped her,” Eli shouted with a laugh. “My, it’s good to be seein’ you. It seems like years since we moved you away.”

  “You are a naughty boy,” Ella shouted back.

  Eli, oblivious to her true meaning, replied, “Ach, she speaks!” while waving his fork around in mock joy. “I guess the big house hasn’t spoiled her yet.”

  “Take care with that fork of yours,” Monroe hollered up at him. “I’m not likin’ the possibility of being punched through by your carelessness.”

  “I’m going to help Daett,” Ella said. “Dora can stay with your wagon.”

  Dora nodded. Either way, they would switch wagons as the need arose. Across the field, her father was driving the team of horses with his voice. He could start and stop them easily. Directing them left and right was the problem. Few work horses were so highly trained.

  Ella walked toward him, his broad back bent away from her. How old he looked with the sun shining so brightly on him. It seemed to bring out his age like light on cloth reveals uneven stitches.

  “Life has been kind to me,” he often said. “I thank Da Hah for the gut family I have, my health, and so many great blessings in life.”

  Yet Ella could see his condition with her own eyes. Daett won’t be with us forever.

  He turned to greet her with a smile as she approached the side of the wagon, but his shoulders were still stooped. She wondered if they would go even lower tonight when he learned the news of what his eldest son was up to. Consorting with Englisha girls was a nightmare no Amish parent ever hoped would be their lot and a matter to be spoken of with fear.

  “You’ve come to help,” her dad said with joy in his voice. “This is a great delight for my old eyes.”

  “Mamm thought I should,” she said, “and I was glad to. The big house can live by itself for a day.”

  “Ach, your house. Yah, it is a house that needs a husband. Now is this not true? But my daughter should have no trouble findin’ one. Has the good bishop come callin’ yet?”

  “No.” Ella almost choked on the answer.

  “Then he will soon,” her dad said with a look of satisfaction on his face. “I am so pleased Da Hah has seen fit to give you such a chance at a gut husband. You lost so much when Aden was taken from you.”

  Ella hadn’t the heart to tell him she planned to turn down the good bishop. She stuck her pitchfork into a thin line of loose hay and heaved it upward, toward the top of the hay wagon. Today the sun was on her face, she was in the hay field with her father, and life couldn’t be better. Why spoil the joy with hard words? Tonight they would be spoken soon enough.

  Nine

  They loaded the wagon with the loose hay until the stack swayed from side to side and Ella could no longer reach the top with her fork.

  “I’m going up,” she hollered lest her dad order the horses forward while she stood on the tongue of the wagon. Quickly she stepped up, climbing high on the top of the swaying hay wagon with the help of the slated wooden supports.

  The lines for the two horses were wrapped around the top rail. Ella unwrapped them with one hand before she pulled herself on up. Her legs sunk three quarters of the way in, and she leaned backward quickly to avoid a fall forward.

  A thrill went all the way through her, despite all her years of riding on stacked hay wagons. Ella laughed for sheer joy. Here she was, a grown woman, once nearly married, and now sought out by the bishop himself, and, still, she felt like a schoolgirl on the first day of class. She gripped the reins and yelled for the horse to move. Her dad looked up at her and grinned. The wagon lurched forward, and Ella swayed wildly. The steel wheels bounced through a ground hog hole.

  This is my life. This is where I belong—safe and secure from the world and its evils. How could Eli breach this safe way of life? The question ran through her with a sharp pang. She looked across the field to where the other wagon rolled along. They had just started to load. Dora and Monroe pitched from one side while Eli, his back turned to her, threw great fork loads of hay high into the air.

  How strong Eli is, and Monroe too, like men are supposed to be. Why, then, does Eli’s judgment fail him in one of the most important decisions of his life? Ella pulled the lines hard to the left and brought the wagon to a stop in front of the baler. The engine’s roar was loud in her ears again.

  “A little forward,” her father shouted above the noise.

  She yelled to the horses, and they tightened the traces with a jerk. She pulled back on the lines, wrapped them around the upper rail, and then walked clumsily to the center of the stack and began to pitch hay down.

  Below, her dad forked in the loose pieces she threw down and what he could detach himself. The baler groaned and moaned and then spit out the square bale of hay on the other side. When several piled up, Daett walked around and threw the bales onto another wagon. An hour later, it was half full, and Daett and Ella were back with their second load.

  Ella’s back began to ache, and she straightened up for a moment. When the wagon was filled with bales, they would drive up together and unload at the elevator. Likely she and Dora would stay at the bottom and toss in the bales. The three men would be up in the vast loft. There, the fresh bales tumbled out, bouncing wildly in the air. The men grabbed them and stacked them high against the walls.

  The ancient ways of my people, she thought. There were not that many Englisha farmers around for her to watch at work, but those she had seen farther down in the valley drove their tractors in the hay fields and towed the balers behind them. Likely their work was easier than this. Easier, perhaps, as their Amish preachers would often point out, but this hard work was the lifeblood of their Amish lifestyle. To preserve this life, each modern change must be questioned and usually said no to. She decided it was well worth it even if one could not always understand the reasons why.

  “Almost lunch time,” her father hollered from the ground.

  Ella jerked herself out of her thoughts to stick the fork deep in the hay. She brought the fork up with both hands and saw the great lump of hay on the end. For a moment, she though it wouldn’t come loose and her arms would give out. Then gravity came to her rescue, and the whole thing slid downward.

  Her dad’s face—sporting a broad grin—came into focus through the strings of hay.

  “Just thought you might have gone to sleep up there,” he said, laughing. “I’m about starved myself. We’ll go eat after this—when Eli’s wagon is down.”

  Ella wanted to tell him that things other than food were on her mind, even though her stomach growled in hunger. She wanted to explain that strange thoughts stirred her—thoughts about Eli, about her new house and the bishop, and now questions about why they did things the way they always did.

  Yet, how do I ask such questions in the hay field, where the very air settles them before they can come out of my mouth. To settle all questions, the preachers say to do what is right. The answer is evident here in the
open field, under the blaze of Da Hah’s bright sun, and with Daett’s strong back bent to his pitchfork and practicing what he believes. Is this not answer enough for anyone?

  Ella climbed down when the last of the hay was unloaded and then drove forward so Eli could pull up. She stayed on the ground and helped fork hay into the baler. Dora and Monroe tossed down the loose hay from their load. With two people working, the load decreased quickly, and Eli jumped back on the wagon when they were done. He hollered to the horses, drove forward, and turned toward the house. Ella followed with the other empty wagon while her dad brought up the rear with the wagon full of baled hay.

  Slowly they drove up the lane, making the steel wheels rattle loudly. Pulling the empty wagons, the tired horses soon trotted in anticipation of water and their noon meal of oats. Daett, with his full wagon, was left far behind. Ella pulled into the barnyard and parked behind Eli. Her hair was pushed back under her head covering, and her emotions were flushed with pleasure after the run.

  How can Eli think about leaving this life? Is that not what he is planning, or are his thoughts, instead, just all muddled up thinking about the girl? Muddled up thoughts can be straightened out. On purpose would be another matter.

  They unhitched the horses quickly and were back outside to help Daett when he pulled up.

  “Runnin’ away from the old man?” her father said, throwing his lines on the ground as they all pitched in to help unhitch.

  “Can we unload the bales after dinner?” Eli asked. “I’m starved.”

  “I suppose so,” Daett allowed. “They aren’t goin’ anywhere.”

  Their mom, Lizzie, had sandwiches and glasses of lemonade set out on the table. They gathered quickly without many words and followed Daett as he bowed his head.

  “Thank You, dear Lord,” he prayed, “for this day You have given us. Thank You for Your loving kindness, for breath in our bodies, and for grace for our souls. Thank You that Ella could be with us again. You know we need the help, but more than that, we are glad she could be with us.

  “Let Your Almighty power be with us and bless this food. Be with those who have not, the orphans and the homeless who suffer. We ask that Your hand reach them and that You comfort their hearts. In our plenty, we lift our hearts in great thanks. We are not worthy. Only You and Your great name are worthy. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”