A Wedding Quilt for Ella (23 page)

“Then they will bear the burden as you have borne it,” her mom said. “Now, let’s see how Eli’s doing. Remember, we still have our own to take care of.”

Mamm opened the bedroom door, and Ella followed her in. The kerosene lamp threw low shadows on the wall. Eli’s face looked almost white, scaring Ella and causing Mamm to run her hand across his forehead.

“He’s got a fever,” Mamm whispered. “Low grade, I think, but he’s got to be watched.”

Ella nodded. She had expected something like this since Eli told his tale of the nurse. Her brother had, no doubt, been affected by the fever when he spoke such nonsense.

“I can take a turn now,” Ella said.

“Later. I’ll watch for a bit. Dora can take her turn first. Tell her to be expectin’ it soon.”

“Okay,” Ella said, giving in and leaving her mom seated by Eli’s bedside. Thankfully Eli, at least, seemed peacefully asleep. If he tossed and turned, it could mean even greater danger. She took the stairs slowly, their squeaking loud in the darkness. The world was a dreary and uncertain place. Now, another accident had happened in such a short time. Was this the dreaded series of three? And yet
Da Hah
was in charge, as her dad said. He would do what was best for them in His great wisdom.

Dora came to the door of her room at Ella’s first knock as if she had still been awake.

“What was it?” she whispered.

“An accident with David and his girlfriend. They were on the way back from Randolph.”

“What were they doing out on a night like this?”

“I don’t know. Expect they had business in town.”

“It’s the third accident now,” Dora said, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. “Someone will die this time. It might even be Eli since he’s still not over everything, I can tell you that.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Ella said. But then she admitted the truth. “I did think the same thing, though, but we shouldn’t plan for the worst.”

“I’m tryin’ not to, but I just do. It’s the way I think, is all.”

“Mamm said you are up next to watch Eli. She wanted me to tell you.”

“So he is worse?”

Ella nodded in the dimly lit hallway.

“And you want me to…not think the worst?”

“Really, Mamm says it’s just a low-grade fever,” Ella said, mustering confidence.

“I’ll be ready, then,” Dora said, her voice resigned. “It’ll be a long night, I can tell already.”

Ella found her way down the hall, and in the darkness of her room, she reached for a match to light the kerosene lamp. At the last moment, she decided not to write in her journal. It was late enough already. The time it took to write her thoughts would be better spent in sleep.

Sometime later, she faintly heard footsteps in the hallway but didn’t wake fully until Dora shook her shoulder.

“It’s your turn now,” Dora’s voice whispered in the darkness. “Wake Mamm in three hours or so. I’ll be takin’ another turn after that.”

With Dora’s faint outline in the doorway, Ella got out of bed and found her way downstairs. The stillness of the house was almost complete. Eli’s breath in the guest bedroom came even enough, and his face now looked normal from what she could see.

He surprised her when he whispered, “I could use some water.”

Ella glanced at the dresser but saw no glass there.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, finding her way out to the kitchen. The heavy darkness of the night bothered her for the first time as she groped for the water bucket. It would help if at least a few stars were out. On impulse she walked over to the kitchen window and looked out. The skies were blanketed in thick clouds. No rain, but the weather looked like a downpour was possible at any moment.

Ella went back to the bedroom, the cup in her hand, and Eli struggled to prop himself up on two pillows. He finally just sat up completely, reached for the glass, and drank the water in great swallows.

“Best be careful,” she whispered.

“I know. That did hurt, but I was thirsty.”

“Are you feelin’ better now?”

“Yah, I think so,” he said, handing her the glass. “Has someone been in here all night?”

“Yah, Mamm and Dora. It’s my first turn now.”

“I’m not a
bobli,
really.”

“You ran a slight fever this evening, and Mamm thought someone should stay with you—in case you got worse.”

He lay back in the bed with a sigh.

“You should try to sleep.”

“Suppose so,” he said but sat up slightly again, resting his head against the headboard.

Ella sat down in the rocking chair in the corner as a wave of sleepiness swept over her. She could see it would be hard to stay awake, and because Eli obviously felt better, the temptation would be even greater. Ready to yield, Eli’s voice reached her through the haze.

“So you think an
Englisha
girl is out of the question?”

She awoke with a start. “You mean the nurse?”

“Yah. You didn’t take what I said earlier seriously, I could tell.”

“There’s nothing to take seriously, Eli,” she said. “I thought your words were spoken through your fever. It’s the only way it made sense to me. You can have nothin’ to do with an
Englisha
girl.”

“So you wouldn’t even consider it? Ever? Even for yourself?” Eli lowered his head back to the pillows.

“Eli,” she said, scolding now, “I just lost my beloved Aden, and I don’t want anyone else.”

“Do you believe that there’s only one person in the world for us?” he asked, his face barely visible in the light from the kerosene lamp. Crazy shadows played on the walls. “Does love really only happen one time?”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Don’t you think you should get some sleep? What if Mamm and Daett heard you talk like this? These are awful thoughts to be thinkin’, yah?”

“Of a
gut
love?” He laughed softly.

“Of an
Englisha
girl. You know what I mean.”

“I think she’d come join us—the Amish—if she loved me.” Eli raised his head to look at her. “I really think that.”

“This has nothin’ to do with love,” she said, her voice firm. “We live in different worlds. How can there be love across such a ditch, and a really big ditch? I mean, Eli, for once think about this. You’re a boy, and a nice one. I thought girls were the only ones who lost their heads over love.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, sighing, “yet it does almost seem possible. You’ll see when she comes.”

“Eli,” she said, “you keep sayin’ that. But this
Englisha
girl can’t come into our house. You know that. Not in the way you say.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice sad, “I’ve already told her that. If she comes, she will be careful. She will be comin’ as a nurse to see how I’m doing. Mamm won’t know any more—that is if you don’t tell her, Ella.”

She brushed her hand across his forehead, and he smiled faintly.

“Your fever seems to have gone down,” she said, taking her seat on the rocker again. Soon his even breathing told her he was asleep.
Surely, he isn’t as serious about the
Englisha
girl as he sounds. Should I tell Mamm and Daett about this?

She rocked slowly and awoke when her mom’s hand rested on her shoulder at the first gray hint of dawn.

Twenty-eight

T
he rainless clouds still had not cleared as Ella headed to the bedroom with Eli’s breakfast.

“I want to sit with the rest of the family…at the table,” he said, swinging his legs onto the floor.

“Mamm,” Ella hollered. This was beyond her jurisdiction. “Eli wants to come to the table.”

“Hush,” he whispered, trying to stand, but she held her ground. He was stubborn, and so could she be.

“You’re not coming out yet,” Mamm said from the kitchen. When she arrived, she gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“I think you’d best listen to Mamm,” Ella said.

He knew she was referring to more than just breakfast, and he rolled his eyes at her. Then he gave up his protest and accepted the tray of food. What a strange sight he made, her big brother in bed and so helpless.

They were in the middle of breakfast when a buggy turned into the driveway. Daett stood up, his eggs and toast uneaten, and went to greet whoever had arrived. An uneasy silence settled on the rest and stayed until his return. Ella knew by his face that the news wasn’t good.

“David’s girlfriend passed away last night…on the operating table…at Tri-County.”

“The second one. There it is,” Dora muttered, her face dark.

Mamm shook her head and made a motion toward the three younger sisters. Dora seemed to comprehend and said no more.

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” Daett said quietly. “The viewing’s tonight at Menno Beachy’s place.”

Ella felt the wound inside her rip open again. Mamm noticed and gently touched her arm. The tears threatened, but Ella held them back by thinking of the plans that needed to be made.

“I’ll stay with Eli tonight,” Ella said quietly, hoping the offer would be accepted without much fuss.

“I’ll stay with her,” Clara said. “I want to stay with Ella if she stays.”

“You will go with us,” Mamm said.

“Why can’t I stay too?” Clara asked.

“Because Ella has her reasons. You don’t,” Mamm said.

Ella breathed a sigh of relief. It was
gut
that her mom grasped her feelings.

“I don’t like funerals,” Clara insisted.

“No one does,” Daett said, “but it’s
Da Hah’s
way, and He knows what’s best, and so we’d best learn to live with it.”

“I’ll never learn to live with funerals,” Clara said.

“I suppose none of us really do,” Mamm agreed. “Now get ready for school because you can’t be going late even on a morning like this.”

Clara left thirty minutes later, her light raincoat draped over her head. Dora and Ella finished the kitchen. The heavy clouds dropped a light mist of rain, showing no intentions of quitting. They couldn’t work in the garden or do the wash. Ella knew there were pies to prepare for the weekend. The food could also be served at the funeral tomorrow. They would need to take something over for the family.

“How about some extra pies?” Ella suggested in mid thought. “If we start now, I can make enough for both us and the funeral tomorrow.”

“I can handle that,” Dora said. “You can do something else.”

“Are you sure?” Ella asked. “You don’t need any help?”

“Nee. Dark days like this give me strength.”

“You always were a strange one, that’s for sure.”

“People come in all the colors, I suppose. The world needs someone like me,” Dora said, her voice now cheerful.

“Yah,” Ella agreed. “Then I’m going to work on my quilt. Is that okay, Mamm?”

“Yah,” her mom answered from the living room. “I’ve got mending to do, but take one of the little girls with you just to keep her busy.”

“Must I?” Ella replied. Then it dawned on her that perhaps her mom had only been teasing. She walked to the living room door just to be certain.

“Were you serious?”

“Nee, I just wanted you to feel what it’s like to be the Mamm for a while,” her mother said.

“I don’t want to quilt anyway,” Ruth said from the couch. “I want to go to school.”

“You will next year,” Mamm assured her. “You will quilt sometime too. All my girls will learn because we can’t marry you off if you don’t know how to quilt.”

Ruth burst into laughter at the idea. “Then maybe I won’t ever marry.”

Ella smiled.
Then that will mean two of us Yoder women will stay single.
She took a kerosene lamp with her from the utility room shelf and headed downstairs. Carefully she lit the flame, set the lamp on the shelf, and continued the tiny stitches.

Perhaps it was the outline of the house, the memories of what they meant, or the news from this morning, but the tears soon came. So many trickled down her cheeks—thick and heavy—she had to stop and find a handkerchief.

Does David feel now the way I had felt? He must even though he is younger and a man. Surely his heart aches the same.
Men are not immune from pain, she felt sure. She longed to put her arms around her cousin and tell him everything would be okay, but how was that possible? She didn’t even know herself whether such a thing was true.

There were moments with her family when she forgot about the pain and could even laugh. Yet moments like this showed that the wound was still there. Her fingers lifted the needle and then paused as the tears blinded her eyes. She wiped them away and studied the quilt pattern for a long moment.

For reasons she couldn’t understand, Clara’s image of the house soothed her. Maybe it was because Clara cared so much—enough to draw the picture and insist that she use it.

Ella moved her needle through the quilt and then suddenly stopped to listen. The low murmur of an unfamiliar male voice came from upstairs, apparently in conversation with Mamm. She hadn’t heard anyone arrive. With her eyes just dry from tears and likely still red, she didn’t want to see anyone, especially unknown males. She continued to stitch.

The door suddenly opened at the top of the stairs, and Mamm’s voice called down. “Ella, there’s someone here to see you.”

She stood in surprise, but before she could move toward the stairs, the male voice said, “I’ll just talk with her downstairs.”

Ella now recognized the voice. It was Aden’s brother Daniel.
But why does he want to speak with me?

“I can come up,” she offered, considering that they might be more comfortable upstairs in her mother’s company.

“I’ll be comin’ down,” Daniel said, his voice now muffled since he was already in the stairwell. Behind him Mamm said something Ella couldn’t make out.

“Good morning,” she said, though Daniel’s face was only dimly visible in the soft lamplight. The resemblance to Aden was there, faint but distinct. Yet the realization of it caused an unexpected pang.

“I’m sorry to be disturbing you,” Daniel said. “It’s just that there’s something I need to be talkin’ to you about.”