Ella Finds Love Again (10 page)

Ella shrugged. “If they do—at least around here—I’ve never heard about it.”

“Where would I start?” he asked, his voice determined.

Baby Barbara slapped both her hands hard on the high chair and yelled.

Robert Hayes smiled.

He doesn’t seem irritated by the interruption, which says something for him, doesn’t it?
Ella wondered.
Perhaps he is sincere. Perhaps his questions are coming from a good heart. Who could help this well-meaning but obviously confused young man?

At once she realized what she should have said minutes earlier. “You need to speak with the young Bishop Miller. He lives a few miles down the road.”

“Oh,” he said. “Why the ‘young’? Is it that by being young he might be more open-minded?”

“Yah,” she said, “I suppose so. And he can handle himself well.” Her heart was still pounding furiously.
Why doesn’t it stay still?

“Well, then, I will speak with your young bishop who can handle himself well.”

“He’s our best bishop…if we have a best bishop. He knows all about the
Martyr’s Mirror,
and the history of our people. He helps out when one of us gets into spiritual trouble. Of course he couldn’t help Eli, but he tried. Eli was too stubborn.”

“Anything else about this bishop of yours?”

“He lives by himself. He farms. People love him. Respect him. He should be able to talk you out of this plan of yours,” Ella said, forcing a weak smile.

Robert seemed to take no offense. “How do I find him?”

“Take a left at my driveway. Next right, then next left. Five miles or so, another left. There’s an old red barn there. His is the third farm on the right.”

The man seemed to process the information and then got to his feet. “So you really own this place?”

“Place?”

“This house where you live,” he said.

“Oh, yah. I own it. I rent out the first floor. Why?”

He shrugged. “Mom thought you did, but I wondered. Isn’t it kind of strange for a young, single Amish woman to have her own place?”

“Perhaps,” she said, not looking at him.

“A story behind that, I assume.”

“Yah.”

“Well, we all have our stories. So one more question, and then I’m gone. Do you women vote for baptismal candidates?”

“What?”

“When your people are baptized. Do you vote for them, like an approval thing beforehand?”

“Yah, we do.”

“Will you vote for me when my time comes?”

Ella laughed out loud. What a bold, in-your-face rascal this man was! It sure beat everything.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, laughing heartily. “Thanks for lunch.”

Ella got to her feet, but he was already at the door and had opened it. He gave her a little wave and he was gone. She listened to the snow crunching under his feet as he went past the window. Moments later his car started and the sound slowly faded as he drove down the driveway.

Eleven

E
lla sat stunned for long moments until Mary pulled at her arm.

“I’m done eating. Can we go play now?”

“Your naps,” Ella said. “You have to take your naps.”

Why couldn’t she think clearly? Had the
Englisha
man been a dream, an angel’s visit of some kind? Perhaps a message from heaven? But he hadn’t left any message. And why was her heart still pounding? Was she…in some strange way
attracted
to the man? She could barely stand the thought. And yet there it was. Had Eli placed some awful curse on the family? Was there a fatal attraction to
Englisha
love somewhere in their history? Ella shuddered.

“I don’t want a nap,” Mary said.

“Mary, was there a man here? Did he just leave?” Ella asked, knowing full well the answer.

“He ate sandwiches with us,” Mary said, her voice matter-of-fact.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw Mary moving slowly off the chair, her gaze on her doll.

“No, that’s doesn’t work,” Ella said, taking her arm. “No escaping nap time. All three of you. I know how you become once we start quilting. Grouchy, grouchy, grouchy.”

“But I don’t want a nap,” Mary protested, following meekly behind Ella, who had lifted little Barbara out of the high chair and was carrying her toward their curtained-off bedroom. Jumping on the bed, Mary and Sarah found their usual spots, and lay down, obviously more tired than they wanted to be. As they settled in, Ella prepared the baby’s bottle.

With the girls down, Ella hurried to clean up the kitchen before Ronda came down. She hoped removing the evidence of the man’s visit would also erase his presence. And yet could she also erase the hot flush that still remained on her cheeks? What on earth was wrong with her? And how was she to explain this to Ronda?

The man had spoken with Ronda before he came down. Had she noticed how long he stayed? Ella laughed out loud. Yes, Ronda would definitely notice something like that. It was one of the reasons Ella liked her, why she was glad Ronda lived on the first floor—because she kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Ivan couldn’t even arrive late to pick up the girls without Ronda’s comment the next day.

By the time she had the table clean, she heard Ronda’s footsteps on the basement stairs.

Ronda had no sooner entered when she blurted out, “Who was that man?”

“A customer…kind of.”

“He sure stayed a long time.”

Ella smiled. What had this man done to her that her heart was still thumping this way? Thankfully he was an
Englisha
man, and she would never see him again. There was no more to it than that.

“You seem mighty pleased with yourself,” Ronda continued, taking a chair by the table. “Did you make a sale? Is that why it took so long? You know we’re already two quilts behind.”

“His mom bought our first quilt,” Ella said. Thankfully her mind still worked, and she knew exactly what to tell Ronda. Enough—but not too much. There was no need to spread rumors around about an
Englisha
man who wanted to join the faith. Such talk would do no one any good. Bishop Miller would know enough to send the man on his way, and that would be the end of the matter.

“
Ach…vell
then,” Ronda said, settling into the chair.

“Marie was his mother’s name. She’s from Maryland, and he said she liked the quilt a lot. That he could even pick the house out from the drawing. Can you believe that? And his mother said the workmanship was excellent.”

“So he stopped in to say…what? Hello?”

“Not exactly. He didn’t say what he wanted for a while. We talked about his mother and then the quilt. Then he said he had questions about the Amish.”

“The
Englisha
always do. They’re full of questions.”

“Anyway, the girls were hungry so I invited him to eat lunch with us. We just had sandwiches.”

“You
didn’t
!” Ronda said, her eyes big. “Did he ask his questions?”

Ella laughed. “Yah. Big ones. I answered what I could.”

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t me,” Ronda said, taking a deep breath. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“He was nice enough. I guess this is part of doing business with the public. Though I didn’t expect selling quilts to turn into visits from the
Englisha
customers’ children.”

“And a
man
at that,” Ronda said, eying Ella intently. “You seem awful happy about something.”

“It’s good when our customers are so happy with our work,” Ella said. “That’s all.”
Now, if Ronda will just drop the subject. More talk and I might say something I shouldn’t.
Ella felt a deep chill go through her body.

Ronda seemed satisfied and got up to sit beside the quilt they’d been working on. “You need light back here,” she said. “I was surprised to see your lantern on, but I see why.”

“Yah,” Ella said as she put some dishes away.

“I too have some news,” Ronda said, turning toward her.

“Yah?” Ella said, keeping her back to Ronda.

“A
bobli
!” Ronda said. “I am going to have a baby.”

“Oh, Ronda!” Ella turned to Ronda and, wiping her hands on a dish towel, said, “That is so wonderful!”

“Yah,” Ronda said, all smiles, her eyes flitting around the edges of the quilt. “The child will come in late summer. How will that be—our first one…for Joe and me.”

“My, that
is
good news.”

“I had to tell you because you will be seeing it soon anyway,” Ronda said, blushing.

“It will be
gut
to hear a baby’s cry upstairs.”

“That brings up the question of whether or not we’ll be staying here. I haven’t heard anything from you about your marriage plans.”

Ella turned back to the last of the dishes. “Ivan and I don’t have an exact date yet.”

“I’m asking because Joe and I need to know if we’ll need to find another house.”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t cast out into the cold,” Ella said, coming to sit beside Ronda. “We just haven’t talked about that…Ivan and I. I would think I’d move to his place. I can’t imagine he’d want the house here. There are way too few acres, and he’s a farmer at heart. He has everything set up over there.”

“So what will happen?” Ronda asked, her thread stopped in midair.

“The only thing that has come to me,” Ella said, “is that Clara or Dora would have the place.”

“You’d give them this house? The one Aden gave you?”

“Life goes on,” Ella said. “I won’t need it anymore. And it has been a blessing to me, along with you and Joe, so I’m satisfied.” She walked over to the quilt and sat opposite Ronda.

“You sure are cool about this.” Ronda looked sharply at her. “You never were quite like this before. How can you walk away from the house just like that?”

“Well, I certainly can’t sell the house. That would be wrong. How could I sell what Aden gave me?”

Ronda considered this for a moment. “Ella, tell me the truth. Will you be happy with Ivan?”

Ella glanced at Ronda’s face in the soft light of the gas lantern. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, does your heart beat faster when you see him? Have you come to love him yet? Love him like a woman needs to love her husband?”

Ella hardly knew what to say. She took a deep breath. “I’m trying to work my way through some of those things. It’s not easy, you know.”

“Then it hasn’t happened yet.”

Ella shook her head. “Does it have to?”

“I would think so,” Ronda said, meeting her eyes over the quilt. “But I’ve never been in your shoes. I know it must be hard.”

Ella nodded, her eyes on her handwork. “I try, but then something happens to bring it all back. The memories of Aden. I know it’s wrong to keep comparing my feelings for Ivan with what I felt for Aden, but as you say, it’s hard.”

“Is there a chance it would be easier to love a different man? Bishop Miller showed some interest in you. He’s a fine, dashin’ sight, even after you told him there was no hope for a marriage between you. That says a lot for a man—the way he stood up to what must have been a most painful disappointment. I expect he’d come racing back if someone dropped a little hint near him.”

Ella laughed. “Don’t you dare! I’m not interested in the bishop.”

“Well, what about one of the other widowers? There aren’t too many single boys left. In fact, none that I know of.”

“Ronda, please don’t be so silly. Besides, there’s more than just my happiness to consider. When I think of Ivan and me, I can’t help consider what would happen with the girls if I didn’t marry their daett.”

“Just because they need a mamm, doesn’t mean it has to be you,” Ronda said, glancing sharply at her. “Ivan can find some other woman, I’m sure.”

“There’s just one problem. The girls have stolen my heart.”

“And so you’d marry a man for his daughters?”

“No, of course not. There’s also the fact that Ivan loves me. You ought to see the way he looks at me. Also, he needs me. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Only if
you
love him.”

Ella thought about Ronda’s words before she said, “But perhaps I want a different kind of love this time.” Her voice rose with passion. “I want a love that doesn’t break my heart. One that isn’t tearing it all up until I can’t even find the little pieces. Perhaps I want a love that doesn’t hurt. One that doesn’t cause me to crawl on the ground with pain when
Da Hah
takes it away.”

“Yah,” Ronda said. “That makes sense. I don’t know, of course, because I haven’t been there. But losin’ Joe would feel like that.”

“At least you’d have his
bobli
,” Ella said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. Where had all this come from? These were questions she thought were long settled in her mind. Had that
Englisha
man brought them back up? It could not be. She wanted desperately to wipe the imprint of the man’s face from her memory. Faintly she heard Ronda speaking. “What was that?” she asked.

“It would be harder now that I have his
bobli
.
Nee,
I know it would be harder. Losing Joe now would be worse than before,” Ronda repeated.

Ella felt her eyes brimming with tears. She pulled her gaze away, hardly able to see the quilt. Her stitches under her fingers looked like blurred lines in the distance. Ella paused, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to preach to you,” Ronda said, wiping her eyes. “Ivan is a nice man.”

“I know,” Ella said, her stitches now visible again. Carefully she ran the needle around the line, the stitches so small her eyes strained to follow.

Ella hoped Ronda would turn the conversation to another topic.

Ronda did seem to realize enough had been said on the subject. The two women worked the rest of the afternoon mostly in silence, with a few words of idle conversation as they occurred.

The girls soon roused from their naps, and began playing with their dolls. Hours passed until the light grew dim with the approach of the evening. Joe could be heard returning home.