Ella Finds Love Again (9 page)

Male pant legs went past the window—
Englisha
pants. Ella rushed to the basement door. Whatever he wanted, this visitor didn’t need to come too far inside. Her wash hung behind the curtains, out of sight, but the smell was in the air. A woman would know why, but a man might think she kept a musty house.

He knocked on the door with a quick and decisive knock. Apparently he knew what he wanted.

“
Gut
morning,” Ella said, pulling the door open slightly.

The snow made the dreary day brighter than it was, and Ella squinted.

“Ah…” the man said, smiling broadly. “Is this Ella’s Quilt Shop?”

“Yah,” she said, surprised.
What does a man want to see quilts for?
she thought.

“May I come inside?” he asked.

“You…you want quilts?” she asked.

He was a good-looking
Englisha
man, his chin straight, his jaw formed with straight lines, and his eyes had that twinkle some
Englisha
men had.

“Not really,” he said, still smiling. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“Oh, no,” Ella replied. “You didn’t frighten me. I’m just not used to men asking after quilts.”

He laughed and to her surprise, she really wasn’t frightened by this stranger. Still, it seemed that her heart was pounding with an awful energy all its own. She tried to keep breathing. This was an
Englisha
man, and there was no sense in acting like this at all.

“Ah,” he said, his head tilted to the side. “Is it okay then if I come in? I have some questions that would be easier to ask with me not standing out here in the snow. I’m harmless. Really.”

“What kind of questions? About quilts?”

“Well, no. About the Amish.”

“Why are you coming to me?”

“Well, it all started when my mother visited here. Since she returned from her visit to the Amish country, we’ve all been fascinated by your people. I’ve done some research myself, and I’m very taken by your people. I would like to know a little more from something other than the Internet.”

“The Internet?”

The man kept smiling and said, “Oh, sorry. The computer. Do you know about computers?”

These Englisha people. They think we are so ignorant.
“Yes, I do know about computers.”

After a brief silence, the man said, “Please. I won’t be long. I promise.”

With some hesitation, Ella stepped back from the door. He came in, glanced around, and pulled out a kitchen chair.

“Okay if I sit?”

What was there to say? No? What did one say when a strange
Englisha
man walked in and asked to sit at your table?

“Sure,” she said, the word coming out in a rush.

He laughed again. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I really am, but I don’t know how else to do this. Mom said you were one of the most decent Amish women she had ever met. She talked about you so much it’s almost as if I know you.”

“You know me?”

“Not really,” he said. “Not in that sense, but I’m hoping this might be the place to start my journey.”

“You said your mother visited here?”

“Yes. Mom bought a quilt from you. I think soon after you opened the shop, and you shipped it to her. I believe it was your first project, and it has your house drawing on it. In fact I found the place partly from the picture—even with the snow on the roof.” He laughed again. “Mom couldn’t be more pleased with your work. She’s been showing the quilt to all her friends. And she talks her head off about the workmanship and
you
…and it looks to me as if her judgment was correct.”

“I’m not married,” Ella said, blurting the words out and glancing at the girls. It didn’t matter how this sounded, but the words suddenly needed saying.

“I didn’t know,” he said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the girls. “I thought…Amish people married.”

“It’s not like that,” she said, meeting his eyes, feeling warmth rushing into her cheeks. “I take care of the girls during the week. They are the daughters of Preacher Stutzman.”

“Are you…uh…connected with him?” he asked. “Perhaps his relative?”

“No!” Ella said, the word coming out forcefully. “His wife died some time ago. I look after them weekdays…until he remarries.”

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by my question. See I’m still learning the Amish ways and perhaps I seem a bit presumptuous. So is this how your people take care of each other?”

“He pays me for their care,” Ella said.

“I see. Until he remarries, you said.”

The red rushed to her cheeks again, but he was
Englisha
, so what harm could come from telling him?

“He has asked me to marry him.”

“Well, congratulations,” he said, half-standing before sitting back down. “I’m sure he’s getting a wonderful wife. Sorry for all the questions. My name is Robert Hayes. I guess I didn’t introduce myself, though it seems like I’ve known you for a long time.”

“Ella Yoder,” she said, suddenly feeling very weak in the knees.
But why?
she wondered.

Ten

A
h, perhaps you’d best sit down,” he said, standing and offering her a chair from the kitchen table.

Ella almost laughed. What a ridiculous situation this was. An unknown
Englisha
man in her kitchen, offering her a chair from her own table? Thankfully Joe and Ronda lived on the first floor or this could become a mighty uncomfortable situation to explain.

“Your mom’s name is Marie? She lives in Maryland,” Ella said, taking the chair.

“So you do remember,” he said, pausing as Mary approached them. “I’m hungry,” Mary said, pulling on Ella’s sleeve.

Ella froze. What was she supposed to do with this man and his questions? Lunch time had arrived, and she couldn’t ask him to leave.

He cleared his throat. “As I said, I have a lot of questions about the Amish. I know I’m imposing on you, but I really don’t know where else to start. If you want to make lunch for the children, I can ask my questions while you work or I can come back some other time.”

“No,” she said, glancing at his face. “You can ask questions while I work, if you don’t mind.”

He looked quite determined, and she didn’t want him to come back. This visit was bad enough.

“I’m hungry,” Mary said again. Sarah had joined her and nodded in agreement.

“I really am sorry about this,” he said. “May I help?”

“I’ll fix sandwiches,” she said, getting up. “The children are hungry, and you can eat with us. I don’t know how much I can answer because some things aren’t for
Englisha
ears, but ask away.”

He laughed softly. “
Englisha,
yes. But we aren’t from England.”

“It is our way, and I don’t know that it can be helped. I suppose that’s the first answer to all things Amish. We do things our way, and that’s just the way it is.”

“I understand,” he said. “Don’t let me hold you back from fixing the girls’ sandwiches.”

“Oh, yah.” What was wrong with her? She was standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at him.

“You haven’t eaten, have you?” she asked, turning and pulling homemade bread out of the cupboard.

“Not since breakfast,” he said. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

He already was a bother, but he didn’t seem to know it.

“It’ll be sandwiches then,” she said, slicing the bread. “Think you can handle that?”

“With bread like that,” he said, watching the thick slabs falling on the cutting board. “And homemade butter, I assume—and jam.”

“Are you guessing?” she asked. “Or do they starve you where you come from?”

He laughed. “Of course not. They only starve you from the good things in life.”

“Like homemade bread and butter?”

“That and much more.” He stood to pull a chair out from under the kitchen table. Mary climbed on, and he scooted the chair back in.

“
Danki
,” Mary said, all smiles.

“Me too,” Sarah said, lifting up her hands.

“Now, now,” Ella said. “You shouldn’t be bothering Mr. Hayes.”

“Robert,” he said. “And it’s not a bother. I think I’m the one bothering you.”

Ella took a few quick steps to pick Barbara up and lower her into the high chair. The baby slapped her arms up and down as she smiled at Robert.

“Hi, there,” he said, leaning toward her. “You are a cute one.”

Barbara jerked back, puckering up her face to cry. He backed away, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“She doesn’t like you,” Mary said.

“I see that.” He dropped his arms. “Why do you think she doesn’t like me?”

“I don’t know,” Mary replied.

“She’s a sweet baby,” he said. “Perhaps I’m just new to her. Don’t you think that’s all it is?”

Mary shrugged.

“Time to eat,” Ella said, placing the meat sandwiches on the table. She transferred the butter and jam over from the counter. “The girls like orange juice, and I make it fresh. Do you want some?”

“Fresh? Really? Of course.” He smiled. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know.”

Ella ignored him and walked over to the root cellar, coming back with a handful of oranges.

Robert cooed softly at baby Barbara while Ella cut the oranges in half, pressing the juice out with a hand juicer.

Even with her back turned, Ella could feel his eyes on her. She poured the juice into a pitcher, grabbed four glasses and set them on the table, and then sat down.

“We have prayer before meals,” she said, waiting and watching him. Would he object?

He smiled, bowing his head with her and the girls as they prayed in silence.

What kind of man is he anyway? He seems to have no objections to praying at mealtimes,
she noted.

“So your questions?” Ella asked, moments after the prayer. “We can talk while we eat.”

“Yes, my questions,” he echoed.

“Help yourself.” She motioned toward the sandwiches and bread slices.

He carefully took a slice, spread butter and jam on the top, bit a piece off, and chewed slowly.

“You like it?” she asked and then realized it was really a dumb question to ask a visitor.

“Yes, it’s very good,” he said. “I haven’t tasted anything so delicious in a long time.”

“You’re just saying so,” Ella said, expecting warmth to creep up her neck again. Soon the redness would spread over her face until she’d feel like crawling under the table. Even now her fingers were tingling.

“It really is good,” he said, sighing. “You don’t know how good it is.”

“Well, we live with it,” she said.

He definitely had gotten under her skin. But how? And how had she ever gotten herself into this situation? She ought to make a dash for the stairs, calling for help from Ronda. But that would be silly, and he’d think Amish women were insane for sure.

“I’m glad you like it.” She broke a small piece off her sandwich and gave it to baby Barbara to chew on. Carefully she brought her glass of orange juice up to Barbara’s lips for a long drink. Barbara gasped for air when she was done, a big smile breaking across her face.

“She likes it,” Mary said. “And I do too.”

“I’m glad,” Ella said.

She could feel Robert’s eyes on her face again. If he didn’t ask his questions soon, she would ask him to leave.

“My questions,” he said again, speaking softly. “What would a fellow do if he wanted to join the Amish?”

Ella almost choked on a bite of sandwich. “Join the Amish? You want to join the Amish?”

He looked puzzled at her response. “Why not? Does that make one a weirdo?”

“You may want to join, but you can’t just do that.” Of course, Ella realized, sometimes people did indeed join the Amish, but not very often and not in their community. It just wasn’t done.

“Really?” He leaned over the table. “Tell me why not.”

Ella drew a quick breath. He had the quickest way of turning things back on her. “Well, for one thing, it’s very, very hard.”

He tilted his head sideways, staring at her.

“First, there’s the language. Then all the things you’d have to give up. Your car for example, and your nice things. And music maybe. Then there are the rules we live by—lots of them. We grow up with those things, so they’re relatively easy for us. We’re accustomed to them. But you’d have to learn them—all of them—by heart. Then, of course, you’d have to get baptized. That’s after six months of instruction class, and the ministers watching your life. Do you think you could live with that? I don’t think so. My own brother is leaving the Amish. So how do you think you can make it?”

“Your brother?” he asked.

“Eli, yah. He’s in love with an
Englisha
girl. She said she’d join the Amish…at first. But that’s all changed. Now he’s left us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, biting into a sandwich.

“It just can’t be done,” she said again, meeting his eyes. Surely he would notice the pounding of her heart as she spoke, but even so, she kept his gaze. She would not look away. “Even when you love your family…it can’t be done. Eli just proved that. And you would have no family here, so how would you make it?”

“You have a point,” he said, his eyes looking away as they sat in momentary silence.

“I want another piece of sandwich,” Mary said, and Ella took her knife and, cutting carefully, afraid she’d slice her finger with this strange man across the table from her, sliced off a section for her. Perhaps he would go now that his questions had been answered.

“Well, I’d like to try it,” he said, his voice low. “As I said, for these past few months I’ve been learning what I could. And the more I’ve read, the more I seem to want it. I think I’ve known from the time Mother brought home your quilt. My heart has been turned in this direction since then. Perhaps God has turned it. Or perhaps by a longing for a simpler life from what I have. Perhaps from a desire to be with people who don’t love the world. Would you deny me such a thing? Would you tell me that something like that…something perhaps from God…isn’t possible? Don’t your ministers believe there are those not born to Amish ways who are nonetheless destined to be with them?”