A Wedding Quilt for Ella (2 page)

Ella considered her answer. “Well, maybe we can make it right by what we do with it. Yah, that’s what we can do. Your picture of a house may be what I’ve been looking for.”

“For what?” Clara asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I can use the picture for my quilt. Bring it home. I expect it’s going to be exactly what I need for my wedding quilt in the basement.”

“Really?” Clara said, the faint hint of a smile crossing her face.

“It can be the centerpiece,” Ella said. “I’m certain of it. I’ve been looking for a centerpiece for some time and found nothing that’s just right. This might be exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

“I doubt if it will work,” Clara said, her voice sinking.

“But it’s nice, isn’t it? Yah, you just said so.”

Clara nodded. “But you haven’t seen it yet.”

“That’s true,” Ella said, pausing to slide a hamburger patty into the pan. “But you bring it home, and if I like it, we can pencil it in straight from your picture. What do think about that?”

Clara shrugged. “That might be nice, I guess.”

“Aden will love it,” Ella said, her voice soft. “We can use it on our bed—once we’re married.”

“But it still makes no sense,” Clara said, unconvinced. “Katie said this was all wrong. How will using it in your quilt make it right?”

“Not everything in life makes sense,” Ella said, “but I’m sure Katie wouldn’t mind if we use your drawing for my quilt.”

Clara met her eyes. “Then you think I can draw again…if it’s for the right thing?”

Ella nodded, smiling.

“After this, I thought I never should try to draw anymore.”

“Of course you may. You just can’t do it when you might be…well, thought of as showing off. Prideful,” Ella said, adding another piece of wood to the fire. When the flame looked satisfactory, she reached for a kettle, filled it with water from the water bucket, and gently set it on the stove to heat.

“There’s something else I should be telling you,” Clara said, her eyes focused on the floor.

Ella glanced at her. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Paul…” Clara began and then hesitated. “He’s in my class and sits right behind me.”

“Has he been bothering you?” Ella asked, remembering her own days at school. That one boy—what was his name?—always used to kick his shoes against the underside of her desk even when she repeatedly told him not to.

“Not so much bothering,” Clara said, “just looking. Whenever I turned around in my seat today, he was looking at me.”

Ella waited.

Clara focused on her potatoes as she continued, “I never noticed before, but I did today. And, Ella…I
liked
that he was looking at me. Is that wrong? Wrong like my drawing?”

“Ach,” Ella said, reaching an arm across to Clara’s thin shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a
gut
thing to feel, Clara. It’s the life that our people get ready for—like what Aden and I are getting ready for with our wedding.”

“Me…marry Paul?” Clara said, dropping her potato on the kitchen table.

Ella laughed. “Not now, you silly. You’re still a girl. When you get older. There’s plenty of time then to marry.”

“Then why do I feel like this now?”

“It’s just a feeling, that’s all. You grow up and make choices about those feelings. Yah, I should know.”

“That’s what you and Aden feel?”

“That and a lot more,” Ella said. “Love can start with a feeling…And then it grows until you become man and wife. That’s how
Da Hah
made it to be.”

“I saw Ezra look at me like that once. Except I didn’t feel anything like I did today.”

“Who’s Ezra?” Ella asked.

“He’s in the seventh grade and sits across the aisle from me. He was held back once. I think it was in the fifth grade.”

“Ach, he’s still probably a nice boy.”

“Maybe,” Clara said, shrugging, “but not as nice as Paul.”

“Clara, slow people, like maybe Ezra, are not to be looked down on. You must always remember that. Yah, all you can see of Ezra is his schoolwork. What he does at home on the farm may be much better than what Paul does.”

“Only Paul made me feel what I did,” Clara said. “Ezra didn’t.”

“I’m not saying that’s wrong,” Ella said. “Some girl will like Ezra. There’s someone for everyone.”

“Like Aden is for you?”

A smile filled Ella’s entire face. “Especially for me, Clara, there couldn’t be anyone better.”

Two

T
he sisters heard the sound of buggy wheels rattling up the driveway, quickly followed by the chattering of familiar voices.

“Mamm’s here,” Ella said. “They’re finally back from town.”

The front screen door slammed, and Dora appeared, her arms full of groceries. Their mother, Lizzie, and three younger sisters followed.

“Is supper done yet?” Lizzie asked as she bustled in, set the groceries down, and surveyed the kitchen.

“Just about,” Ella said. “Did you have a good trip?”

The three youngest sisters nodded in unison with big smiles on their faces. They each carried a small bag of groceries into the house—except the youngest, Martha, who carried a single can of soup.

“It was a good trip,” Mamm said. “The traffic was light for this time of the day. For that we can thank
Da Hah.
The way things are down-town sometimes is an outright fright. You’d think all the earth was on fire, the way people rush about.”

Ella’s laugh filled the kitchen.

Clara glanced up from digging through the bags of groceries. “Did you bring any corn candy, Mamm?” she asked after searching the first three bags and finding none.

“Now, why would I buy something like that?” Lizzie asked, keeping a straight face. “Your teeth are already in enough danger of rotting out. You have a dentist appointment as soon as school is out.”

“Ach. Please?” Clara said, digging deeper into another bag, her eyes hungry.

“Why don’t you help unpack those bags, Clara,” Ella said. “Mamm might find what you want while you work.”

“Now, that sounds like a good idea,” Mamm said.

“You’re just tricking me,” Clara said but stopped emptying the contents of the grocery bags onto the kitchen table. Instead, she lifted a few items and set them in the cupboards. Mamm then acted like she would walk away but stepped back to the last bag, and with a flourish, she brought out what was left of the corn candy.

“There’s not much here,” Clara said, holding the half-empty bag aloft.

“You have more than I had,” Dora said, her arms full of groceries and ready to go down the basement steps.

“They left enough for you,” Mamm said. “You’re not a child anymore.”

“I’m not to be married like Ella,” Clara said, “so I’m still very young.”

Mamm laughed. “Now that’s some logic. I have to raise all of you children right. Eating less candy is part of growing up—that and a lot of other things. Neither your daett or I want you to reach marrying age with us having to hang our heads in shame over the way we raised you.”

“Clara helped me real well today,” Ella said quickly. “She peeled the potatoes like a
gut
woman, I’d say. And Clara has her first time at chores tonight.”

“Yah,” Lizzie replied, nodding, “and it is high time too.”

“So why did no one tell me?” Clara protested. “Tonight I have to milk cows?”

“I didn’t decide this,” Ella said. “Mamm and Daett decided last night after supper, and I just overheard. Don’t worry, though. We’ll start you in slow and give your hands a little time to get toughened up. But I can’t say I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“Ach, then don’t feel sorry,” Mamm said. “Clara’s a big girl now—almost out of the eighth grade. With the wedding coming up and you leaving us, Ella, we thought it was time Clara started evening choring. Dora had to learn even earlier. So, really, Clara’s been having an easy time of it.”

“That I did,” Dora said, shutting the basement door behind her. “They needed me to help with chores right early. And they almost killed me.”

“Now, now. No pity parties.” Mamm laughed, but her voice was firm. “I’ll take over supper from here. It’s Dora’s turn to be outside choring tonight. Daett and the boys will be in from the fields soon. Take Clara with you. Show her what she must learn.”

Ella led the way upstairs to change into chore dresses. Clara and Dora followed close behind. When they were on their way out to the barn, Clara asked, “Do you think I can do this? Is it hard?”

“Of course, you can.” Ella gave her a sideways hug for encouragement. “Just think of all the things you can do. You can draw. You can write. You’ve got Paul’s eye now. After all that, why couldn’t you be milking a cow?”

“What’s that about Paul?” Dora asked, a few steps behind them.

“It’s none of your beeswax,” Clara said, marching forward.

Ella laughed heartily.

“She’s kind of young for that sort of thing,” Dora said dryly.

“Old enough or not, that’s how these things go,” Ella said.

“Ugh,” Dora said, “I don’t think Clara’s going to like this at all.”

“That’s just because you’re so black about things,” Ella teased. “And say, how are you and…let’s see—Norman, isn’t it—getting along?”

“You don’t have to make it sound worse than it is,” Dora said, grinning. “He’s not all bad.”

“Can we talk about something else besides boys?” Clara asked.

“I suppose we could,” Ella said.

“If I’d caught someone like that Aden of yours,” Dora said, “I’d be cheerful too.”

“Ach, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. And you’re not getting my Aden,” Ella said, trying to put a warning in her voice but failing.
“Da Hah’s
only made one of Aden, you know.”

“You think he’s a dream, that’s what you do,” Dora said. “But let me tell you, no boy’s a dream. There’s always trouble hidden in there somewhere. Aden probably snores all night, I’d guess, and you’ll never be getting any sleep. That and the house will soon be full of babies.”

“I really wish you two would be quiet,” Clara said a little louder this time.

“Don’t worry about Dora,” Ella said, holding open the barn door. “Just remember what you felt when Paul was looking at you. That’s the real thing.”

“You’ll be turning the poor girl’s brain to mush yet,” Dora said with a laugh.

Inside the barn, the low ceilings of the first floor surrounded them. Cobwebs hung on the rafters, and bits of hay fell from the mow. The cows—the first batch already in the stanchions—greedily scooped up the small portion of feed in front of them.

“Needs a good sweeping in here,” Dora said and saw Ella nod in agreement as the girls took down their stainless steel milk buckets and three-legged stools.

“Evenin,” Eli, the oldest of the boys, hollered. “Late as usual, I see. Someday I’ll be findin’ me a girl who knows how to come to choring on time.”

“We’re not late,” Dora said with a glare. She stood at the water bucket behind the cows and dipped the washrag in. “See, I’m ready to wash the cows.”

As Eli turned to leave, Ella said, “Now, Clara, pay attention to what Dora is doing. That’s the first thing to do. You have to wash the underside of the cow’s udders because they’re in the field mud—and even worse—all day.”

Ella got her own washcloth, motioned Clara closer, and pressed her shoulder against the cow’s side. “Sometimes you have to push the cow like this to get in. Then, once they’re over like this, you scrub hard. Always watch out for the tail. It gives a person a nasty whack.”

As if to demonstrate, the cow brought its tail around in a solid thump across Ella’s back. “See,” Ella said, “I think she must have heard me.”

Clara bent over to look at the udder of the cow and noticed little droplets of water, leftover from the wash, clinging to it.

“You then do this,” Ella said as she sat down on the three-legged stool. “You stroke the side of the cow a couple of times and wait a little bit for the milk to come down. If that doesn’t work, then you have to try something else to relax her. Once the udder is full, you set your bucket on the floor, holding it tightly between your feet. That’s just in case old Bossy tries to kick. They usually don’t, but they do seem to know when someone new comes along. Now, with each hand squeeze and pull down. Don’t just pull straight down. Do it with a roll. Start with the top fingers and move downward.”

Ella squeezed, and a stream of white milk shot into the bucket with a loud metallic sound. Across from her, Dora started at the same time. As the spurts of milk made a fast tat-tat-tat sound, two cats dashed out of the shadows and paused in the aisle to stare at the girls.

“Good evening, kitty cats,” Dora said, giving each a spray of milk. The liquid stream flew across the concrete floor and landed in the cat’s mouth with practiced perfection.

“You’re spoiling them again,” Ella said, her voice a gentle chide. Then she turned and added her own stream to the mouths of the cats.

“Now who’s spoiling whom?”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Ella said, “as cute as they are.”

“Soon they’ll be having kittens,” Dora said dryly. “That’s how these things go. We’ll have to spray milk all night long.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ella said, laughing, “but can’t you just see the little fuzzy balls with milk running off their whiskers?”

“You’d be spoiling the whole world if left to yourself,” Dora said, giving another shot of milk to the two cats before brushing them away with her foot.

Ella turned her attention back to Clara and handed her the three-legged stool. Clara reached for it, took a deep breath, and gingerly sat down.

“That’s a big cow,” she said, looking up at the hairy side that rose above her. “What if this thing falls on me?”

“Cows don’t fall,” Ella assured her. “Just take your hand and squeeze like I showed you.”

Clara squeezed hard with both hands. “Oh no,” she said as only a dribble of milk came out, “this will take a year.”

“Harder,” Ella said, encouraging her. “We all learn by doing. Squeeze. Pull. Squeeze.”

Clara worked her hand as the cow, its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth, turned to look back at the young girl.