A Wedding Quilt for Ella (25 page)

Mamm led Ella to a bench, and Ella lowered herself down, her knees ready to buckle. Yet for some reason unknown to her, Ella felt strangely comforted, like the great gash in her heart had a few stitches placed across the wound. The thought repelled her, as if it violated Aden’s memory, but still Ella knew it was true. In her shared sorrow with another, she had felt a glimmer of wholeness. How that could be, or even should be, she couldn’t explain. Perhaps her coming
had
been a good idea. Good for both David and for her too.

The benches behind them filled up, and soon the pressure to make place for others became apparent. Mamm went over, spoke briefly to David’s mom, and then moved toward the front door. Ella stood to follow, and Dora did the same. Daett and the girls soon joined them in the yard.

The girls hitched their horse to the buggy while their dad was still in the barn, grappling with how to get his horse out. They waited patiently for him, and not until he had left, did they join the line of buggies driving out of the field. Ella held the reins tightly as they bumped out onto the road.

“So this was the second death,” Dora declared. “Part of the series everyone is expectin’.”

“I don’t think you should bring things like that up,” Ella said. “It’s not right…in some way.”

“What if there is something to it?”

“Then we can’t do anything about it.”

“One of the girls talked to me just before we left. She thought Eli might have really been the second one, but that he might have been spared.”

“I’m really not interested, Dora. I’ve had ‘bout all the pain I can take, and if Eli was spared, then so much the better.”

“I still think we should be prepared for the next one.”

“We all should be prepared, Dora. Each and every day, we should be. Isn’t that what the preachers say?”

“This is different. It’s like you have a real warning, something to see with your own eyes. It could even be
me
because it seems to follow the family—Eli, now Melissa, although probably not you. That wouldn’t make any sense at all.”

“Would you just stop thinking about this? It bothers me,” Ella said. Darkness had fallen, and Ella turned on the switch for the buggy’s low-beam lights. Her heart thudded when the lights didn’t come on.

“The battery must be dead,” Dora whispered in horror. “Why isn’t it charged up?”

“Probably because Eli usually does it, and Eli’s laid up.”

“It’s a
sign,”
Dora whispered. “A
terrible
sign it is. This time it really could be me! Please, God, help me be ready if it’s me You’re calling.”

Ella laughed in spite of her best intentions. “You’re just scaring yourself, Dora. Now get the flashlight from under the seat. I know Eli keeps one there.”

Dora reached back, banged her hand around for a long moment but came up empty-handed.

“There’s nothing there, and it’s going to happen. I can
feel
it. Eli always keeps a flashlight around. Oh, Ella, this is how Melissa went! I know you’ll live through the accident, but it will be me who dies this time.”

“Oh, stop it, Dora! Now you’re scaring
me”
Ella said. It was enough to deal with a buggy without lights, let alone a panicked sister.

“Mamm and Daett are ahead of us. Let’s catch up,” Dora’s voice was urgent. “This is just awful.”

Ella slapped the lines briskly and urged the horse on. The horse responded, but even around the next bend in the road, she couldn’t see the lights of her parents’ buggy.

“It’s our fate,” Dora moaned, “and here comes a car from behind. Oh, Ella, pull over quickly.”

Ella responded with a tug on the lines, pulling the buggy to the right. She stopped when the ditch embankment was too steep. Ruts came up on the gravel, and they bounced furiously inside the buggy.

“You’ll break a wheel, and then we’re gone for sure!” Dora grabbed the left line and jerked back. The horse turned sharply as the car passed only inches from them.

“You’re the one who’ll get us killed! Now get control of yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Dora said, settling into the seat. “Here comes another one.

Lights flashed and bounced over the hill as Ella pulled into the ditch as far as she could safely go. The ruts were almost as bad, but Dora stayed silent this time.

“I don’t think I’ve prayed so hard in a long time.” Dora let her breath out slowly and quietly said, “I don’t want to die. Please, God!”

“I don’t suppose Melissa wanted to die either, but she did,” Ella said, surprised to find bitterness rising up in her heart. It wrapped its fingers around her heart, freezing her body like ice.
Not again. Why must these waves of anger and hurt return again and again? Didn’t I feel better just minutes ago while sharing David’s grief

“Daett would say it was
Da Hah’s
will. He called her,” Dora said.

“But
why?”
Ella fairly screamed, the coldness in her voice filling the still night air. The horse jumped, ran hard for a few strides, and then slowed again.

Dora’s eyes became wide when she heard her sister’s outburst. Still Ella went on. “Tell me
why
! Why didn’t Melissa and David deserve the right to love, the right to marry, the right to have children, the right to leave someone behind them, and the right to grow old together like others? Does
Da Ha
have something against certain people? Does He just pick this one and that one, saying to one, ‘You die’ and to the other, ‘You live’? Why do you and I have the right to go on with life? Why, Dora?
Why?
”

Dora reached with both hands for the lines. “Do you want me to drive, Ella, because I can?”

“Why should you? I can drive just fine.”

“I think I should,” Dora said, not taking her hands off the reins.

“Oh, Dora, I’m not trying to kill you,” Ella said, guessing Dora’s thoughts, her voice now void of emotion.

“I’m not so sure,” Dora said, pulling on the lines. “You’re way too upset to even think of driving. We should all have known that. You’re grieving yet. Why, Ella, you’re not even fit to be out of the house.”

“I’m
fine.
” Ella pushed Dora’s hands away and slapped the reins. She pulled toward the ditch as another set of lights approached. This time there was room enough and fewer ruts to contend with, but Dora froze beside her until the car passed.

“You didn’t take the battery out,” Dora asked, her voice trembling, “or hide the flashlight?”

“What are you talking about? The battery’s just dead.”

“You’re hurting pretty bad, and we should have known that.”

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, Dora,” Ella said as she carefully pulled up to a stop sign and then turned left.

Dora seemed lost in thought. “I’m not so sure I believe you,” she finally ventured. “I just thought of something else.”

“Yah, and?” Ella waited. Another set of lights appeared and passed safely before Dora answered.

“Clara told us how you went and jumped in front of that bull. She said it was the bravest thing she had ever seen. But I just thought of something. You were hoping the bull would kill you, weren’t you? You wanted to die.”

“Well…” Ella paused, searching for the right answer, but she knew from the sound of Dora’s sharp breath, her sister wouldn’t believe a denial. She said the words anyway, “Not like you’re saying it. It was that I wanted to protect Eli. Yah, and in doing so, if I had died…it did seem to be a good thing at the time.”

“So you
did
take the battery out?”

“Nee, I didn’t do that. And I wouldn’t try to kill myself—or you.”

“I suppose if someone had been through what you have—had loved as deeply as you did—this would be understandable, yah?”

“I didn’t do it,” Ella said, her voice firm. “It’s against the will of
Da Hah.
He doesn’t welcome into heaven those who take their own life. Remember, I do want to be with Aden again.”

“You know, I’m going to ask Eli.”

“That’s fine.” Ella smiled in the darkness. “I don’t know what he’ll say, but I didn’t take the battery out.”

When they arrived home, Dora helped unhitch and then made a beeline for the guest bedroom. Ella saw her in conversation with Eli when she came inside.

“Well?” she asked when Dora came out of the bedroom.

“Eli said he took it out to charge it before he was injured.” Dora smiled weakly. “But you sure had me worried.” She awkwardly reached out to hug her sister.

“I’m glad you cared,” Ella said as they clung to each other.

Thirty

T
he house was silent. Eli lay asleep in the guest bedroom. Ella thought of work that could be done, but with the rest of the family at the funeral, the idea of working didn’t seem to fit the day. It was as if this day was like an additional Sabbath—sacred to those who had to bury their loved one.

Ella checked on Eli again and then went downstairs to work on the wedding quilt.

With a cloudless sky outside, she didn’t need a lamp to work on the stitching. As the needle moved smoothly in her hand, thoughts of Daniel’s visit came to her, faint but persistent. In many ways, she couldn’t believe he had been here—right here by the quilt.

A house for me without Aden
—it was an impossible notion. Yet Clara’s drawing of the house lay before her, almost speaking to her. Thoughts she hadn’t expected began to rise up; thoughts of hope, of a future, and of a way to go on with life. The half-penciled house now seemed as if brought to life by Daniel’s words.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a distinct knock upstairs on the front door. Someone had arrived, perhaps a tourist or someone who thought they had a shop in the house. Even though no sign was in the yard, people stopped in every once in a while.

Ella quickly went upstairs, her feet noiseless on the basement stairs. She glanced in Eli’s room before she answered the door. Eli was still asleep. She then peeked through the front window to see who was at the door. A woman Ella didn’t recognize stood at the door, and then she knew. For a quick moment, she almost decided to pretend no one was at home. But in good conscience, she couldn’t do that. It would somehow be wrong.

Ella opened the door, and the woman smiled and asked, “Is this the Yoder residence where Eli Yoder lives?”

Ella nodded. She had guessed right. Eli’s
Englisha
nurse had come.

“I’m Pam Northrup. I was Eli’s nurse at the hospital, and I told him I’d be by to see how he’s doing.” Ella had to admit Eli was right. She did have a distinct plain appearance, though clearly not Amish.

“Yah,” Ella managed, “this is where he lives.”

“How’s he doing?”

“About the same,” Ella said, considering how she might deny the woman entrance and tell her she was not welcome. Instead she opened the door and forced a smile. “He was asleep when I last looked in.”

“I’ll just peek in on him,” Pam said quite confidently as if she visited Amish patients all the time.

Eli must have heard them approach because when they entered, he was propped up on his pillows, smiling his boyish grin from ear to ear.

“Hi,” he said, extending one hand awkwardly while using the other to smooth down his tousled hair.

“Hi to you,” Pam said, taking his offered hand and then his wrist as she calculated his pulse. When she finished, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I ran a fever the first night home. Nothin’ serious, I’m thinkin’. Mamm took good care of me.”

“Are you taking the antibiotics the doctor gave you?”

Eli nodded.

“You should be okay, then, but I bet those ribs still hurt.”

“Of course,” Eli said with a grin.

“Is this your sister?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I should have introduced you,” he said. “The rest of the family is at a funeral.”

As Pam turned to shake hands with Ella, Eli made a quick face and motion, which Ella easily interpreted as Eli wanting her to leave them alone.

Anger rose in her at his success in arranging this visit without their mom’s presence. Mamm would know what to do, but she wasn’t here. In her place, Ella decided she would deal with Eli later. There was no sense in a scene now, and she didn’t like scenes anyway.

“I’ll leave you,” she said, managing another smile as she backed out of the bedroom but leaving the door cracked open. That was one compromise she wouldn’t make. The soft murmur of their voices rose and fell, and she paced the kitchen floor for thirty minutes before Eli called for her.

“Pam’s ready to leave,” he said with a weak smile.

“You behave now,” Pam said to Eli, “and take care of yourself.”

Ella led the way to the front door and held it open for her.

“You have a good day,” the girl said and turned to wave at the bottom of the porch steps.

“You too,” Ella offered. She waited until Pam got in her car, waved again, and backed out of the driveway. She was a nice girl—but
Englisha.

Ella marched straight to Eli’s bedroom. At the moment she didn’t care if he was sick or not. “How dare you!” she demanded. “What would have happened if Mamm had been at home?”

“Thankfully she wasn’t,” he said, wearing his boyish grin, “but it would have looked like a nurse on a visit.”

“Have you totally lost your mind? She’s an
Englisha
girl, Eli. Can’t you see that?”

“Doesn’t she look kind of plain?” he countered.

“Maybe a little, but it makes no difference. She’s not one of us. She never will be. They live in their own world. They can’t just come to ours like that, and they never do. You know that, and you’re certainly not going to hers. You’re too decent for that, Eli. You’ve never been wild. You’re a
gut
boy. You’ve all kinds of chances with our own girls. I could name three nice Amish girls right now who would love some attention from you. With those kinds of doors open, what’s wrong with you?”

Eli stared at her, his smile frozen in place under the attack. “Relax. She won’t be stoppin’ in again. I told her today not to come again.”