A Wedding Quilt for Ella (20 page)

Ella smiled and shook her head. “He’s just teasing you.”

“Well he shouldn’t be teasing me. It’s much too early in the morning,” she said, turning to Monroe. “Just wait till a skunk gets you sometime! Then I’ll never let you hear the last of it.”

“I don’t go throwin’ slop on poor little critters,” he laughed, pulling his stool up under himself, disappearing behind the cow for good.

“That horrible, horrible boy,” Dora muttered, reaching for the washcloth to wipe down the cow’s udders.

“There will be better days ahead,” Ella said.

Dora only grunted.

With the first round of cows done, they repeated the process to the soft sound of cows munching and milk splashing in the buckets.

“I’ll finish the last one,” Monroe said.

“Good,” Ella said, “and thanks.” She left with Dora to change for breakfast. Arriving at the house, they saw that the three younger girls were sitting on the kitchen bench, already awakened and dressed. Ella raced upstairs and changed quickly but wasn’t needed for breakfast preparation when she got back downstairs. Monroe splashed loudly outside in the washroom as he cleaned up. Ella took her seat at the table. The absence of her dad and Eli seemed to cut like a knife, as if the whole house was still and they all felt the pain together.

“I’ll walk over to Mr. Adams’ house right after breakfast,” Mamm said as they ate. “You girls can clean up the kitchen, and I’ll come back and help if Mrs. Adams can’t take me to the hospital.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem there,” Ella said.

“See that Clara gets off to school,” Mamm said as she moved toward the bedroom door.

“I’m a big girl now,” Clara protested.

“I know you are,” Mamm said kindly. “We just have to look out for each other with all the trouble we’re having.”

Clara nodded, and Mamm went to change. She came back for a final goodbye before she left.

“Are we having morning prayers?” Monroe asked from the living room.

“Not with Daett gone,” Mamm said, opening the door to leave.

Ella felt the absence of the morning prayers. Perhaps with so many troubles, they should have more prayers, not less. Even silent prayers—bending her knees in supplications to the Almighty for His mercy—would have been nice. The effort would have seemed a comfort, even without her dad present to lead the family, but tradition must have held sway in Mamm’s mind.

There was an aversion to any public approach to God that wasn’t led by a proven male presence.
Mamm must think Monroe, at fifteen, is too young to lead the prayer. Eli might have done it even though he isn’t baptized, but, of course, he isn’t here. Perhaps Eli has been spared because he isn’t baptized…And maybe he is being granted time to make his formal peace with God and the church, even though he has never been a wild boy.
Such thoughts were too deep for Ella to ponder.

Ella watched Mamm walk across the yard and glance each way before she crossed the blacktop. Her mother looked stark in her dark blue dress and black shawl as she approached the Adamses’ house and knocked on their door. From the motion of her mom’s hands and the fact she was invited inside, Ella figured Mrs. Adams would soon be available to take her mom to the hospital.

“It looks like Mamm’s going to get her ride,” Ella said when she joined her sisters in the kitchen.

“I have to leave for school,” Clara said, busy packing her lunch.

“Did you leave the drawing out?” Ella asked.

“You didn’t go changin’ your mind?” Clara asked, tilting her head.

“Nee, I still want to use it. Mr. Adams brought the quilt back last night,” Ella said.

“It’s on the pile,” Dora said. “It’s not even dirty either. I thought there might at least be blood on it, you know, from how Eli looked.”

“Don’t
say
such an awful thing,” Clara said.

“Well, there was blood everywhere. Why wouldn’t it be gettin’ on the quilt?”

“Because it’s Ella’s quilt!” Clara said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dora asked.

“That quilt is special. I think it helped Eli last night when she gave it to him. I could see it on Eli’s face.”

“The girl has gone wacky,” Dora said, rinsing a dish in the sink, “but who wouldn’t be with all that’s been goin’ on. People dying, bulls goring people, skunks sprayin’ me—”

“I’m not wacky,” Clara said. “Ella’s quilt
is
special.”

“Now, now.” Ella said as she assumed the mother role with Mamm gone.

“I guess I’m sorry,” Dora said. “I really didn’t mean it. See? You’re still my sweet, sweet sister.”

“Yah, yah,” Clara said, but Ella saw the smile play on her face as she went out the door, her lunch bucket swinging by her side.

“So what was that all about?” Dora asked with Clara gone. “Are you putting thoughts into the girl’s head?”

“Nee, I’m just trying to keep my own mind straight.”

“With all that’s happening, it would mess up anyone,” Dora said, making another trip to the counter with her hands full of dishes.

“So what’s on the list for today?” Ella asked as she washed. “Mamm didn’t leave any instructions.”

“She’s got enough on her mind already.”

“There’s the regular wash tomorrow, but the blankets from last night should be done today. We should probably bake pies, I guess. Though, that could be put off till tomorrow. Bread’s low. We should tackle that today, don’t you think?”

“The garden could be done,” Dora said as if she hadn’t heard any of Ella’s suggestions. “Mamm mentioned that yesterday. I think we could start on the first planting of onions. They’ll get bigger that way. At least Mamm’s a firm believer in the theory. Then the peas could be planted. We could make beds for them, if nothing else.”

“I want to work on the quilt, but I guess that can wait.”

“That quilt again,” Dora said, making a face. “You really think that quilt’s special?”

Ella shrugged. “I’m surprised I’m even workin’ on it. Maybe that’s what makes it special. It seems to heal somethin’ inside of me, that and Clara’s picture. She really can draw. Maybe that’s why she thinks it’s special.”

Just then the front door burst open behind them, and Monroe’s shout startled them. “I’ve found them,” he said, his voice gleeful.

“Found
what?”
Dora asked. “And don’t go scaring us like that. Life’s short enough the way it is.”

“The skunks!” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “They’re under the barn—a whole family of ’em. At least I think so from the noise they’re makin’.”

“You expect me to get close to skunks?” Dora said, glaring at him. “Leave them be is my opinion on the matter.”

“I can’t,” he said. “Something has to be done with them. They have to be gotten off the place. Any suggestions from the female side of the family?”

“What are you plannin’ on doin’?” Ella asked. “Not something stupid I hope. We wasted too much time cleanin’ up skunk smell last night. I’m not wantin’ to go through that again.”

“I won’t get sprayed,” Monroe said confidently. “I’ll shoot down the hole and get them all that way.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Ella said. “There has to be a better way.”

“Like leavin’ them alone,” Dora said. “I learned my lesson last night.”

“I guess we could pour slop down the hole,” Monroe said, keeping a straight face for a moment before he lost it and burst out in laughter.

“You are a mess of a boy,” Dora said before she finally joined in his laughter.

“I have a suggestion,” Ella said when Monroe had quieted down.

“What would that be?” he asked. “You gonna sweeten the slop bucket?” His laughter rang through the kitchen.

Ella ignored his remark. “Take a lesson from last night, is what I say.”

“Put Dora down the hole?” Monroe said, choking back another fit of laughter. “She could pull them out one by one. I’m sure they’re good friends by now.”

“If you’ll be quiet, I’ll tell you,” Ella said.

“He’s not used to a sensible conversation,” Dora said, “the poor little dear.”

“So tell me what great wisdom my wise sisters have to share,” Monroe said, composing himself somewhat.

“We could put vinegar and baking soda in a bucket of water and pour it down the hole,” Ella said. “We cleaned Dora up with those things, and I think that should get ’em out.”

Monroe looked skeptical.

“Try it first before you do anything else,” Ella said and went to get a bucket of water. Monroe made no move to follow the suggestion.

“It’ll work,” Dora said, feeling positive about the situation at last.

“That’s just because it worked for you,” Monroe said. “You’re not a skunk, though.”

“Thanks,” Dora said, rolling her eyes at him. “You can actually say nice things. I didn’t know it was in you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “It just kind of slipped out, and I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s what I thought. If you ever even make eyes at a girl, I’m going to warn her ’bout you.”

“Really,” he said, snorting, but Ella was sure she caught a worried look in his eye.

“Here’s the water. Let me add the stuff, and then we’ll see what happens.”

“I hope it works,” he said. He took the bucket when she was done, and they followed him outside.

“Stay back,” he said as he cautiously approached the hole beside the barn. He stood over the opening for a moment, turned the bucket upside down, emptying the contents down the hole, and then backed up to where his sisters stood.

Nothing happened for a long moment. “It’s not workin’,” Dora said.

“Quiet,” Monroe whispered. “I hear somethin’.”

With a rustle, little bits of dirt flew into the air, and the striped head of a skunk popped out of the hole. It looked around and seemed ready to return to its refuge when it was apparently pushed from behind. With a grunt, the skunk exited the hole and shook itself as its mate popped up behind. The second one did the same, rubbing its nose on the ground. Behind them three smaller skunks rolled out and proceeded to gallop around the two parents.

The skunk that had come out first gathered itself together, stared at the three humans, and then with great dignity, ambled across the barnyard. Its mate followed behind, and the three youngsters soon tumbled in line.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Dora said.

“I’ll shoot ’em if they come back,” Monroe muttered.

“You will do no such thing,” Ella said. “Now don’t we have work to do?”

They nodded in agreement as the line of skunks disappeared into the fencerow, their tails high in the air.

Twenty-five

“I
’ll work in the garden,” Dora said, standing outside the barn door, “if that’s okay with you.”

Ella shrugged. “I can’t help you with the cultivator just yet. I have to start the bread dough first.”

“Monroe can help me,” Dora said, quickly opening the barn door.

Ella went inside to start the bread dough. As she measured the flour, she could see through the kitchen window that Monroe was indeed helping Dora. They came out from behind the barn with the large Belgian horse hitched to the cultivator. Dora lined up the horse at one end of the garden for their first pass over the recently disked garden spot. Dirt flew out sideways as they started forward and then reversed themselves and came back the other way. Once the beds were turned up, leveling off the top by hand would be simple, though backbreaking.

When her bread dough was mixed and left to rise for the first time, Ella—mindful of the time lest she forget to go back inside and knead the dough—went outside to help.

With a hoe, she worked on one of the rough dirt hills, smoothing it out and flattening the top. Dora led the horse past while Monroe hung on to the cultivator. He stopped at the end of a row to wipe his forehead even though the weather was barely warm.

“Phew!” he exclaimed. “Hard work, this cultivating is.”

“He’s just soft from the winter,” Dora joked to Ella.

“I’m not,” Monroe said. Grabbing the handles, he yelled, “Let’s go!”

Ella smiled as they came down a fresh row. It felt good to be outside working in the garden.

When the timer went off in her head, Ella left the hoe lying on top of the bed and sprinted into the house. The cool spring air went all the way through her, invigorating her bones to the marrow. Breathless, she stopped short at the kitchen counter. Another unexpected stab of realization welled up from her heart,
How can I feel so alive when Aden is gone?
Would these sudden reminders of what she’d just lost never cease? She pushed the feeling aside and washed her hands, as if to cleanse them of more than just dirt on her skin.

The dough, deflated under her fingers, was reduced quickly to a quarter of its size. Ella broke off the appropriate lengths, measured them from memory, and placed each piece in a bread pan she quickly buttered. She counted out twelve pans and set them on the table. That would make enough bread for a week and a half. With Eli injured, the bread batch might last more than that. Too much, and they would have stale bread on hand.

Ella left the dough to rise for the final time and rejoined the cultivator crew in the garden. Monroe had apparently just proclaimed his day’s work done because Dora stood there with her hands on her hips.

“One more round,” Dora said loudly.

“Nope,” he said. “I’m done with women’s work for the day. I have to take care of things on the farm.”

“This
is
the farm,” Dora said, glaring at him. “And it’s not women’s work. I work at hay and plowing! Just remember that.”

“I’ll see you later,” Monroe said, smiling sweetly.

Dora gave in with a huff, and Monroe lifted the cultivator up on its front wheel, yelled to the horse, and was off for the barn. He steered with his body, the lines wrapped around his waist.

Ella worked outside until she figured the bread had risen, and then she stayed indoors to watch the stove while the bread baked. She sent the three young girls out to help Dora and joined them when the bread came out of the oven. Two long even rows of raised beds with droopy planted onions were completed when Mrs. Adams pulled into her driveway across the road.