Ella Finds Love Again (27 page)

I can do little right now but cry. I so hope the straight and narrow road will become clear to me again. Somewhere I must have taken an awful turn away from the right path and there is no Evangelist to instruct me as there was for Christian.

May the great Da Hah who made the heavens and the earth, and all that dwells in it, have mercy on my soul. I know of nothing else to ask. I am sick of love and all it has done to me. I wish that Da Hah had never made such an emotion.

Ella took the journal and stepped outside. The night was clear, a brisk wind coming in from the north. It would soon be even colder. She held the journal open in both hands and stretched her arms heavenward.

“See, Lord,” she whispered. “I have written my thoughts, and now do to me what You wish. I cannot tear love out of my heart, and if You do so—if You must—I will try not to complain, regardless of the pain.”

She shivered, holding her arms aloft until they stung, her eyes on the stars. She almost expected a streak of light to fall, burning up the pages on which she had written the awful words, but nothing moved in the sky. It was as if the stars themselves held perfectly still, daring to twinkle in the face of such great human folly.

A long moment later Ella dropped her arms, numb from cold and feeling weak. Back inside, she tucked the journal away in its hiding place and prepared for bed, though it was still early. She slipped quietly under the covers and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Thirty-three

E
lla awoke well before dawn, but from what she wasn’t certain. The alarm clock still showed twenty minutes until it should go off. When she reached over to push the button in, it hadn’t even been set. This was Sunday—an off Sunday—so that must be why she hadn’t set the alarm last night. Her headache was gone, but everything else seemed hazy and distant. Even with her body rested, the turmoil of last night had left its mark.

She considered trying to go back to sleep, but the more she tried, the more she tossed and turned. No, more sleep was out of the question, so with her blanket wrapped around her, she found a match and kindling and lit the fire in the stove. The coals had died out, leaving only the faint glow of cinders at the bottom of the ashes.

Ella fanned the little pile of kindling and then carefully added a larger piece of wood. The flame seemed sluggish, but then it reached out, wrapping around the edge of the new piece of wood, flaring on the barked edges. Ella watched in fascination. As the flame grew hungry, eager for more, she added another piece. The smoke wanted to come out the lid, and she waved it back inside and up the chimney. She closed the lid. A soft roar started, and she shut the damper to quiet the fire and force the heat into the room.

She really needed some quiet time, needed to find inner peace. She considered that a walk might be good for her. Hunger stirred, but she wanted something else first. Was it too cold to go outside? A quick check out the door convinced her it wasn’t.

She quickly dressed and put on her thickest coat and gloves, wishing she had one of Eli’s or Monroe’s stocking caps to wear. That was one of the benefits of males in the house—they could be borrowed from. Convinced no one would see her, she found a large piece of discarded quilting fabric and wrapped it around her head in a makeshift covering. It was heavier than any scarf she had and splendid for the moment—as long as she didn’t have to see how she looked in it.

The first rays of the sun had not yet lit the horizon, the sky was clear, and the stars a great swath of brightness across the heavens. To the north, the big dipper hung upside down, as if to quickly pour out the final drops of milk before the sun could rise. She must get out of sight of the house in case Joe or Ronda were up early. There were no lights on yet, and since this was an off Sunday, the coast should be clear.

With confidence she crossed the driveway and opened the gate into the pasture. She was briefly startled when Moonbeam came up at a run. He appeared like a ghostly specter against the eastern sky, great puffs of steam coming from his nostrils. She drew in her breath and laughed, the sound rising into the morning air.

“Good morning!” she greeted him as he skidded to a halt. Knowingly she added, “No oats yet, old boy. I’m just out on a walk.”

He dropped his head and followed behind her as if he were her shadow. The soft crunch of his heavy hoofs on the snow supplied her with welcome company from a world less troubled than hers. Did God make animals to show humans how simply life could be lived? Yet how was she to live like that? She wasn’t an animal. She was human—very human.

She stood and gazed around her for a while, letting the peacefulness sink into her soul. She again lifted her heart to God and waited. The words that came to mind were just a whispered, “Trust Me,” to which she could only whisper back, “Thank You.” The cold soon sunk in past her coat and bulky head scarf. Ella patted Moonbeam on the nose.

“I’m going back inside now,” she announced. He followed her to the gate, standing with his head slung over it while she walked across the driveway.

At the top of the basement steps she turned for one last look to the east. The sun’s rays lit up the horizon, the soft glow warming her heart.

As Ella went down the steps she could hear Joe and Ronda stirring in the house above. Quietly she entered her basement home and made her breakfast. As she sat at the table to eat, she noticed Joe and Ronda’s buggy drive out the lane—apparently off to visit someone.

With nothing planned, Ella turned to her book and was soon engrossed in the progress of Pilgrim. At noon, she barely stopped to fix a sandwich and was still reading when Joe and Ronda returned sometime after four. She heard Ronda’s steps coming down the basement stairs and glanced up with a sheepish look.

“You’ve been here by yourself all day?” Ronda asked as she came in.

“Yah,” Ella said. “I enjoyed it.”

“Well, too much quiet isn’t good for you. You have to come for supper.”

Ella laid the book aside. “Only if I can come up and help get it ready.”

“It’s already done,” Ronda said. “Will you come at five thirty?”

“You’re going to spoil me.”

Ronda smiled and disappeared up the stairs.

Ella picked up her book and returned to Christian’s journey, now in the middle of the Land of Beulah where he was given a glimpse of the Celestial City. By the time of the crossing of the river, the clock showed five twenty. She didn’t want to get into the middle of what couldn’t be finished, so with a piece of paper she marked the book and went upstairs.

Joe was in his rocker, absorbed in a farm magazine.

“So where did you go today?” Ella asked Ronda, who was standing at the kitchen counter.

“We visited Joe’s parents.”

“That’s
gut.
Anything I can do to help?” Ella asked.

“No, sit down,” Ronda said. “We serve you tonight.”

Ella obeyed and Ronda joined her, bringing the last dish to the table. Joe sat down and they bowed their heads for prayer. They began eating, the meal passing quickly. Ella stayed to help wash the dishes, and Ronda didn’t protest.

“Joe wants a farm someday,” Ronda said quietly, her hands deep in soap suds.

Ella brought the last of the dishes from the table. “Any prospects?”

“No, but if nothing turns up, do you think we’ll be able to stay here until next summer?”

“I think so,” Ella said. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen. Ivan is convinced he faces excommunication and that means there will be no wedding.”

“I know,” Ronda said in sympathy. “I’ve heard the talk going around. It does leave a lot of uncertainty for all of us—you especially.”

“We just have to live with it, I suppose.”

“That’s all? Just live with it?” Ronda said. “You don’t seem particularly upset about it.”

“I guess I’m learning that getting upset doesn’t do any good. It just results in headaches. Now I’m going to try to let
Da Hah
handle things and not worry so much. It’s out of my hands, really.”

“I can understand that. I can’t imagine what you’re facing. And you’re a much better person than I am.”

“Don’t say that,” Ella said. “I’m no better than anyone else.”

The two worked quietly on the dishes and finished a few minutes later. Ella thanked Ronda for supper and said goodnight to Joe.

He nodded, glancing up briefly to smile at her.

Back in the basement, Ella picked up her book again and continued to read. Christian soon crossed over the dark River of Death, arriving safely on the other side. Ella got to her feet and stretched. Somehow the story had given her renewed confidence in
Da Hah
. She felt tired even though it had been a day of rest. Another good night’s rest would be just the ticket.

Ivan arrived with the girls a little after seven. She met him at the top of the steps, and took baby Barbara from his arms. He looked better than he had on Friday—almost rested.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked.

He hesitated, seeming to search for words.

She persisted. “Ivan, I really need to speak with you.”

He nodded, apprehension crossing his face.

“Sit,” she said, once they were inside.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, taking a seat on the couch.

“Yah,” she said, sitting down beside him, “I do.”

Was there any way to reach this man? He seemed so distant, so lost. How had the great Preacher Stutzman fallen so far? It was beyond her, yet she could try.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed.

“Ivan, there must be a way for you to straighten this out with Bishop Miller. Apologize for going in the Baptist church. It was wrong. How many times have you preached about the world and its temptations? You could never be happy in a Baptist church. How could you be?” She touched his hand, running her fingers slowly along his arm.

Ivan didn’t move.

“Can’t you see that? For the girls’ sake, if nothing else? If you don’t repent, we can’t marry.”

“You would marry me if I’m not excommunicated?”

She met his eyes, allowing him to look as long as he wished.

Finally convinced, he looked toward the window.

“Ivan, it might be the best either of us can make out of this mess of our lives. But you must repent of what you have done.”

He looked back at her. “You deserve better than marrying me. It’s not right.”

“Not right? Why? Is not love offered for the better of the other always holy?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But this has always been more one-sided than anything else. You know that. The love you would give me is sincere, but it’s a love of convenience. You deserve more than that. You don’t love me the way you will some other man. The kind of man you deserve.”

“You are a
gut
man,” she said. “Please don’t let this destroy you.”

“I won’t.” He smiled weakly. “It might make me a better man.”

“Excommunication?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I can only hope so.”

“Can’t you come back…from where you’ve gone?”

“You are a great woman. As wonderful as Lois,” he admitted, touching her face. “But no, Ella, I don’t believe I can.”

“Then what will happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But one thing I do know is that you are now free of me forever.”

Ella’s shock was evident. For a moment she found no words. “Ivan, are you sure?”

“Yah,” he said. He stood and put on his hat and turned for the door.

Ella remained on the couch and heard the latch click softly behind him. Emotions she couldn’t identify roiled in her heart. Should she have not spoken up this way? Had she made matters worse by driving Ivan away from her?

“We had breakfast,” Sarah said, coming to stand quietly beside her.

“I’m glad,” Ella whispered, stroking Sarah’s hair back from her face. She had almost forgotten the girls in their quietness.

Ivan’s voice played in her mind:
You are now free
. Was she really? Did she dare to be free? What about the girls? One answer gained seemed to beget more questions. Ella sighed and hugged Sarah before getting up. There was work to do, and work usually made things better…didn’t it?

Thirty-four

A
s the week unfolded, Ella’s emotions became a seesaw as she wondered each day if this would be the morning Robert would return for his German lesson. She was surprised at how eager she was to see him again. Was it Ivan’s words that released her to love another? She had not heard from Eli, but that was surely a good sign. If Eli turned up something bad, he would have reported it to her quickly. Each day without Eli pulling in the lane was a good day.

Even Ella’s feelings toward Bishop Miller softened. After all, hadn’t Ivan himself said that his troubles were of his own making? And what of the
Englisha
woman who was reportedly seen with Ivan? Had Ivan lied to her about that? Was there a reason for his deception?