Ella Finds Love Again (29 page)

Still, she would smile, and tell him
nee
. There was no harm he could do to her or to her family. The worst had already been done. Joe and Ronda could have the house for all she cared—or her daett could decide the matter. She was worn out, her heart in shambles. She would gladly move back home. That was where an old maid belonged anyway.

The only unsettled matter, really, were Ivan’s girls. Ella would care for them as long as Ivan wanted—but likely that wouldn’t be long. Usually those who left for the
Englisha
world didn’t do it halfway. Ivan would quickly pull the girls along with him.

As for Robert—wherever he was now—he could take care of himself. He was a man. Ella hoped that the ray of faith he held had not been destroyed. Surely he hadn’t thought Amish people were saints. If so, that illusion had probably been shattered.

Bishop Miller closed his sermon, his eyes moving around the room one last time before settling on three men who would give testimony. Two of them came from the minister’s bench, and the other from the audience. All three took their time, since it was still early. No one had found any errors in the sermon, and the final song came to a close. The clock on the living room wall showed exactly twelve o’clock.

“Will all those who are members please stay in,” Bishop Miller said, now on his feet again. A rustle of whispers went through the congregation as children were given final instruction for their time outside without adult supervision.

Even though Ella knew what lay ahead, her spirit sank as low as it had been yet. This was not a dream. It was very real.

“We have the labor of the church before us,” Bishop Miller said, still standing. To his credit, he didn’t seem to be enjoying this duty. “The work of
Da Hah
is necessary work, just as the work on our farms is necessary. We must tend to it or things fail—the cows don’t give milk and the crops don’t grow.” He cleared his throat.

The men’s benches didn’t squeak at all.

“Our brother Ivan Stutzman has allowed himself to be drawn into a clever trap of the enemy. A trap from the one who is the enemy of all our souls, who seeks to destroy us. This matter first came to our attention some time ago, and we have spoken often with Ivan since that time.

“Ivan Stutzman has, in our opinion, allowed the sorrows of his wife’s death to cloud his judgment. He has grieved for her beyond what is fitting for any man or woman and has not placed the matter fully into
Da Hah
’s hands. Others may have different opinions on the matter—about how this has happened. We do not argue with them or say they are wrong.

“What we can all agree on—first as the ministry and then hopefully today as a congregation—is that our concerns have been for a reason. That these concerns could have been solved in a reasonable manner was always possible. Concerns about Ivan’s change in his preaching style, which I am sure all of you have noticed. Ivan also began to read articles, written by Amish people, yah, but they are against our beliefs. This we could still have worked with, but now in addition to these concerns, it has been confirmed with Ivan that he attended a Baptist church in Randolph. Once when we first spoke with him, and twice since then, including this very morning. He has also told us that of this indiscretion, he is unwilling to repent.

“There were also reports brought to us that Ivan has been seen at the Baptist church with an
Englisha
woman. Ivan has assured us this is not true, that he attended alone. We accept that explanation, but still warn him of the enticements from the many
Englisha
women, no doubt, who would accept his hand in marriage.

“I will now ask the other ministers to express themselves,” Bishop Miller concluded. He sat down. Bishop Mast spoke first, and then the other minister. Neither had anything new to add. Each expressed their support for excommunication since Ivan had been given warning and plenty of time to repent.

Bishop Miller rose again and addressed Ivan. “Will our beloved brother now leave, so that the council of the church can be taken on this matter?” He waited as Ivan left the room.

Ella couldn’t take her eyes off Ivan’s face, even when she tried. His pain cut her deeply. How she wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn. They could still make something of their life together. Why couldn’t Ivan see that?

“The ministry will now ask for the voice of the church,” Bishop Miller said, sitting down.

With a soft rustle, the deacon stood first, soon joined by two of the ministers. They moved between the tight benches, bending over to listen to each member whisper in their ear. There was little to say, since no one would desire or dare to object.

When the deacon reached her, Ella had planned to only shrug her shoulders and the deacon would move on. He knew her connection to Ivan and would understand. Instead she whispered, “My heart is very heavy today, but I cannot see what else could have been done.”

The deacon nodded, moving on. He bent toward the girls beside her, waiting, then moved on to the next person. Bishop Miller got to his feet when the reports had been brought back and given to him in quiet whispers. Someone went out to bring Ivan back in.

“In this case,” Bishop Miller said, turning to face Ivan who sat on the front bench, hanging his head, “I now, with the full support of the church, will hold Ivan Stutzman to be in a fallen state, both before
Da Hah
and man, until such time as he comes to repentance. We have nothing more to say about the matter.”

The older boys who had stayed in the meeting now left, followed by the men. The girls’ side began to move toward the kitchen, where they began the food preparation in an obviously subdued mood. Ella joined in. She wanted something to do. She needed to feel the presence of others around her. Soon enough the dreaded time would come when the aloneness of the basement would surround and haunt her.

Prayer was announced, spoken, and slowly the usual hum of voices filled the house. These were men and women who worked every day around death and disaster on their farms. A man’s soul had been dealt with today, but even then they quickly returned to the faith that
Da Hah
worked all things out for the best.

Ivan could have left for home, if he’d wished, and no one would have blamed him. Instead he stayed, and someone gave him a place at the first round of tables. Only it was in a little bench off to the side. No one could eat with him now. He sat there, his head bowed, his face haunted. A little bowl of peanut butter, two pieces of bread, butter, and some pickles sat before him. He was offered coffee and shook his head.

Ella watched him as he slowly spread his bread. As he took his first bite, little Mary broke out of the crowd and climbed on the bench beside him. She whispered something, and Ivan attempted a smile for her and stroked her face, tucking in the stray hairs under her covering as she snuggled up beside him. Ella wondered if Jesus had looked anything like this when He had left His beautiful heaven to taste of earthly sorrows. Such a thing seemed very possible.

“It is a sad day,” Ronda whispered in her ear.

Ella nodded, wiped her eyes, but said nothing. Beside her a few women noticed and made sure she got on the next table to eat. She didn’t feel like food would go down, but accepted their offer of comfort. It was all they knew how to give, and she was thankful she could still eat with them.

Thirty-six

T
he
Englisha
Christmas decorations were out, wreaths hanging on the doors, Christmas trees sparkling in the living room windows, but Ella barely noticed. Her routine with Ivan hadn’t changed despite his new status in the community. Every Monday morning he showed up with the girls, and every Friday he picked them up on schedule. Little was said between the two, and it was best that way.

He waited for the girls outside the door, making no attempt to come inside, and Ella didn’t ask him in. His clothes were still Amish, and he looked the same as always. Ronda said that he was attending the Baptist church in Randolph on Wednesday nights…or so she had heard.

For now, he still came to the regular Amish church services every two weeks. He stayed home on the Sundays in between. For some reason Ella didn’t know about, Ivan had not yet told the girls about his departure from the faith.

Ella’s heart felt as frozen as the winter snow that continued to fall day after day. A severe storm off the lake had blown in, closing the back roads for a day. After the plows came through, a group of
Englisha
carolers stopped by, all wrapped up in mufflers and overcoats.

The little children’s cheerful red faces were the only reason Ella allowed them to stay long enough for two songs. That and the memory of Aden and his love for
Englisha
people’s Christmas carols.

Ronda called out of the first floor window once they were gone, “I can’t believe you let them sing, Ella. Do they stop here every year?”

“I don’t know,” Ella said. “This is my first winter in this house.”

Every so often Ella wondered about Robert. Nothing had been said about him, but he had not returned. She didn’t dare ask questions of anyone. When buggy wheels turned into the driveway at odd times, she half expected it would be Bishop Miller, come to stake his claim to her again. Her speech was prepared for his arrival. She would be as nice as possible, smile, but her answer was
nee
.

Lately Ella felt compelled to teach Ivan’s girls while she still could. She had visions of what might lay ahead for them in an
Englisha
world—the change in clothes, the automobile, the use of the modern things the
Englisha
women had. She knew anything she might say about the dangers of the world would be of little benefit to them, but surely the basics of the faith would stand them in good stead. Did not the
Englisha
people believe many of the same things?

The day she had hoped to begin her instruction baby Barbara came down with the flu. Ella sat up in the rocker with her for most of two nights. When the baby recovered, Ella began reading Bible stories to the girls after supper. She didn’t own a fancy children’s Bible storybook like the one she had seen in the library at Randolph. Nor did she have an inclination to borrow one. Instead she read straight from the biblical text, using the English words and adding her own as they occurred to her.

She read chapter after chapter to them, stories of Abraham, Joseph, David, and his son Solomon. She expected Mary and Sarah to tire, but the stories held their interest, and the next evening they seemed to look forward to more stories.

Joe and Ronda left for Ronda’s parents’ place the evening before Old Christmas. Before they left, Ronda came down. “You’re not going anywhere? Isn’t it time you got out?”

“I guess I could go to Mamm and Daett’s,” Ella said, offering a weak smile. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just tired.”

“Will they come over here then? Surely you need to see your family.”

“I don’t know. It’s a ways over there, and with all the stuff that’s gone on…”

“They don’t blame you for Ivan’s excommunication, do they? That’s not your fault at all.”

“I don’t think they do, and no one else seems to either. At least from what I’ve picked up on Sundays.”

“I’d hope not,” Ronda said. “And how are you doing?”

“To tell you the truth, I feel frozen. I feel scared…mostly for the girls and what will happen to them.”

“All the more reason to drive over to your parents. You can get the horse ready or Joe can, if that would help. Just spend the day with your family. Really, Ella, you ought to.”

“This will be a hard time for Mamm and Daett. It’s the first Old Christmas since Eli left. I’m not sure a visit would be all that helpful…for me or for them. We’d all be thinking about Eli, even if nothing is said.”

“I feel so sorry for you,” Ronda said. “Is there anything Joe and I can do?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ella said. “Life will have to heal itself.”

And that was how it would go. Life would slowly heal itself, and she would settle into her role of being an old maid.

With Joe and Ronda gone for the evening, Ella read her usual Bible story to Mary and Sarah, with baby Barbara on the floor in front of them. When bedtime arrived, she decided to do something unusual—perhaps memorable for the three girls. Baby Barbara might not remember, but hopefully Mary and Sarah would.

“Would you like to go out to the barn to hear the Christmas story?” she asked the girls.

Mary thought for a while and then nodded. Sarah quickly nodded after she did.

“Then get your coats and boots,” Ella said, “I’ll see how cold it is outside.”

Ella opened the basement door and took a deep breath. Her lungs didn’t burn and her face didn’t sting.

“Let’s go!” she said with a laugh. “Tonight I’ll tell you the best story of all…right close to where it really happened.”

Bundled up, Ella picked up the kerosene lamp in one hand and baby Barbara in the other. She led the other two girls out. Keeping the lamp lighted proved hard. The first gust of wind blew out the flame, so she had the girls wait on the steps while she went back for matches. Once they finally made it into the barn, Ella set the lamp on a bale of straw and gathered the girls around her.

Baby Barbara wanted down, and since the straw was clean, Ella let her. After all, what was the worst the child could do? Chew on straw? Something Ella had done many times in her growing up years.

Moonbeam neighed, sticking his head over the stall wall as far as he could. Ella laughed at him, sure they made a strange sight in the flickering light of the kerosene lamp. A woman with three girls all wrapped in coats and scarves, seated in the straw on the barn floor.

“There was once a night, so very long ago,” she began, “when the world had grown old and weary, where men killed each other in wars, and woman and children were kept despised and suffering. Cripples lined the streets, begging for bread, and
Da Hah
seemed to have forgotten His people.