Ella's Wish (21 page)

Great ages had passed since she had seen Aden, sensed his joy, or felt the warmth of his arms around her. Was this now to be again? Ella lifted her arms skyward as if they moved all on their own. Heaven was more possible in that moment than it ever had been.

Ella waited. The stars twinkled but her arms grew suddenly weary. No, there would be no chariot of fire, no angel, and no Aden to snatch her away. She must remain simple Ella, caught up in her troubles on the earth, alone outside her house in her night clothes, and anyone who drove by would surely think she had lost her mind.

“I’m not brave,” she whispered. The tears came, and the sobs racked her chest. “I can’t face this dark world alone. How am I to go on with life—even if it’s lived in
Da Hah’s
will? How am I ever to marry the bishop?”

Long moments passed, and Ella quieted her sobs.
Surely it isn’t right to make such a fuss. Others have lost their loved ones, and they go on with life. They also marry again, some sooner than others, but almost all do eventually
.

The bishop is a good man, and he needs a wife. Deep down, I need a husband
. She wanted one with all her heart, but the one she wanted was Aden, who was no longer here.
I need to just make the most out of this situation. A sensible and brave woman would do that
.

Ella turned to go back inside. If nothing else, she needed to get some sleep. Life really would continue on whether she wanted it to or not. But now, suddenly she knew. Marriage to the bishop would include a consequence she hadn’t thought of before.
I will have to leave the three girls alone and uncared for if I married the young bishop
.

Surely someone else will take care of them until Preacher Stutzman marries. And he is already making such plans. The bishop had been confident of this, yet hadn’t Mark thought the same thing about the kitten—that it would be safe if he abandoned it? Will the girls be safe with someone else until Preacher Stutzman marries?
She remembered the light touch of their heads against her side while they sat together on the couch.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t be right until I know for sure.”

She felt better now with some resolution reached. This night’s excursion hadn’t been entirely in vain.

Ella walked back inside the house, but sleep was far away even though the alarm clock showed the time was past one o’clock. The very thought of dropping off to sleep was beyond her reach now. Sleepless nights must be part of the care of a mother, something that happened whether one wanted it or not.

Carefully she opened the cedar chest, extracted her journal, and took the lamp out to the kitchen table. If she wrote, perhaps sleep would come.

Dear Journal
,

I had the dream again tonight. The bishop and I were about to get married, and I have no idea why that frightens me so. He’s a gut man, and Mamm and Daett think so too. Yet my nerves fail me. Why one should go by nerves, I don’t know. I never thought of myself as such a person
.

I went outside to pray and to see the stars, and I thought surely I would be taken up into heaven, so real was the experience. I actually saw Aden’s face—in my mind, of course—but it all seemed so real. I guess it just shows how mixed up I am. How I do miss Aden. He must be so happy in heaven, and I am left alone down here. How can I ever marry another man? The very thought is simply beyond me
.

Yet other women do. I know they do because I have seen them, and they are women who have been married before. Perhaps that’s what makes the difference. Maybe this would all be different if Aden and I had been married and if I had borne his children
.

One thing I do know for sure is that Preacher Stutzman’s girls have already made for themselves a warm place in my heart. I will not abandon them before he marries again
.

It’s strange how complicated a man Ivan Stutzman is. On Sundays he thunders in his sermons, and then when he talks to me alone the next day, he can hardly keep from staring at the floor. And the way he nervously turns his hat around in his hands, it’s like nothing the bishop does. Now there is a confident man
.

I suppose most girls would fall all over themselves to just get a date with him, let alone a marriage proposal. What makes me so different? I guess I’ve always been different; at least that’s what Aden used to say
.

I have plenty of work to do. Joe and Ronda will be here soon, and the house will be more than full, which is the way it should be. Hopefully having all these people here will help me move past my sorrow and provide support at the same time. I’d like to start on the quilt shop idea as soon as possible
.

I wish God would just tell me what kind of life lies ahead of me instead of surprising me with all these unexpected turns. But then He wouldn’t be God, would He?

Ella shut the journal softly, picked up the lamp, went back to the bedroom, and set both on the dresser. Tomorrow the journal could be put away. Pulling the covers over her, sleep came quickly, and she slept soundly with no dreams.

Twenty-seven

W
ith the white cloth base firmly attached, Ella stretched the quilt frame taut. It was a maneuver she often performed at home with Mamm. This was the first time she had tried it by herself. It was more difficult than expected, like the rest of her recent challenges, but somehow she would manage. She simply had to.

Beside her the baby wrinkled her face as if ready to burst into tears. Ella stopped stretching the frame but kept a hold of it. “Mary, talk to your baby sister,” Ella said, motioning with her chin.

Mary went over to her sister and after a moment reported, “She doesn’t want anything. She’s fine.”

“That’s good,” Ella said, giving the quilt another pull. The peg slipped into the hole on the frame, causing the quilt to stay taut, and she let go with a relieved sigh.

“Just keep talkin’ to her,” Ella said, “especially if she acts as if she’ll start crying.”

“I will,” Mary said, patting the baby’s cheeks.

She was such a darling—all three of them were—and they were all so easy to take care of. Perhaps this came from being tossed back and forth between Preacher Stutzman’s home and his sister’s home. Although such an experience could have hardened them to life, on the contrary it seemed to make them the sweet children they were, and how quickly the three had taken their place in her heart.

The basement was cool, even for a summer’s day. The large room really was the perfect spot for her quilt shop. Though she had only the one sample quilt finished, she felt compelled to open the shop and see what would happen. Hopefully, she would be able to sell customers on the idea of made-to-order quilts once they saw her handiwork.

Yesterday Ella had painted and hung her little sign,
Ella’s Quilt Shop
. The brush strokes had come easy, and the effect was pleasing, sort of personal, intimate, and reflecting her love of quilts.

As she considered what to do next, she heard the sound of an
Englisha
car crunch its tires on the gravel outside.

Already? A customer? Surely not!
She walked over to the basement window for a quick glance outside, confirming there really was a car parked in front of the house.

Scarcely able to breathe at the idea of her first customer, Ella waited until she heard the knock on the upstairs door. She rushed upstairs, wondering how she should act in front of
Englisha
customers. She really hadn’t given it much thought.
Will I really sell a quilt? Me? Ella Yoder? Take a deep breath. If I keep my hopes small, they won’t be dashed to the ground
.

“Good morning,” Ella said, opening the door with a slight tremble. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled broadly. “Your quilt shop. I saw the sign. Are you Ella?”

“I am. I’m just barely open. My shop is in the basement.”

“This is a lovely house,” the woman said. “It looks new. I left my husband down at one of your people’s furniture stores. We saw your sign earlier, but he didn’t want to stop in with me. Anyway, I’m Marie, and I’m from Maryland. We drove up yesterday and got the travel brochure the county puts out. It has all of the Amish businesses on it, but I didn’t see yours. You must be very new.”

“I am,” Ella said. “Let me take you down to the basement. We can just go down these outside steps, or I can take you through the house.”

“The stairs are fine, dear. All of you Amish are such wonderful folks. I just have to look at the quilts, and I’d love to take one home with me.”

“Well, I don’t really have much,” Ella said, holding the basement door open. “In fact, I just have a sample. If you like my work, I can make your quilt to order.”

“Then I’ll look at that,” Marie said, moving inside, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Here it is,” Ella said, motioning with her hand to her wedding quilt, now hanging on the wall.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” the woman said. She then saw the girls and said, “And your children, how adorable they are! My goodness, you don’t look old enough—and three already. You people really are the salt of the earth. I wish we had more children. We only had the two, and now I regret I didn’t have a dozen. Old age does change your thoughts on the matter, and my husband agrees too, mind you.”

She then took a corner of the quilt and held it up. She released it and backed away to get a fuller view. After a moment, she said, “This really is quite good. I was so hoping to take a quilt home with me, but if you can make one close to this design, I’d be willing to wait and have you ship it to me when it’s finished.”

“Yes, that would be fine,” Ella said. “That’s what I’m hoping to do for my first customers. It will take me a while to have several quilts ready to offer. In fact, yours will take a little time. We made the sample quilt in our spare time. My sisters and mom helped.” Ella cleared her throat.
Should I say something about the girls? The woman thinks they are my own. Should I correct her?

“Is this a picture of the house? This house?” The woman said as she took a closer look at Clara’s picture, now beautifully incorporated into the quilt.

Ella nodded, and the moment to say something about the children passed quickly.

“I thought so. What a lovely idea.”

“Actually my sister drew it. Clara is quite the little artist.”

“I would say so. Yes, this is just grand. I do want you to make one for me. Can you do something with some red and gold tones? That will match our bedroom nicely.”

“Yes, but,” Ella said, pausing, “I haven’t mentioned a price yet.”

“Oh, I assumed all the Amish shops charged about the same. The one I visited yesterday was very reasonable—around four hundred and fifty dollars, I think. Yours is nicer, though. Would that be a fair price?”

“Oh, yah, that is more than enough.”

“There would be shipping, of course?”

“Yah, I guess so. You’ll have to excuse me. This is my first sale, and I don’t know how to think of such things.”

“You’ll be just fine, dear, and I’ll take it,” Marie said, carefully running her hands over the quilt one more time.

Ella found her new bill book and said, “If you’ll fill out your address here, I can then ship the quilt when it’s done.”

Marie wrote in large letters, filling out the information on the page. “How long do you think it will take, dear?”

“A few months.” Ella said, hoping she wasn’t disappointing the woman. “Three months? Is that too long?”

“That will be fine,” Marie said, taking out her checkbook. “May I give you a deposit now and pay the rest when the quilt is finished?”

“Yes, of course,” Ella said, not having thought through the process. After all, this was her first sale, and so soon. Surely
Da Hah
was looking out for her.

Marie looked again at the sample quilt. “That drawing of the house is so nice. It seems very few of you Amish folks do any artwork. Has your sister done other drawings or even sketches? I would love to look at some and possibly buy one for my home.”

“Oh, yah, Clara is good at that.”

“You ought to have her draw some more. You could put her art up for sale here in your quilt shop. I know I’d buy some if you had them ready. I expect others also might. I don’t think I’ve seen any sketches in any of the places we stopped at so far.”

“We can’t draw pictures of people,” Ella said. “Any image of humans is strictly forbidden. It’s a very strict rule in our beliefs. We are not to show pride in the human person. That is an honor that belongs only to
Da Hah
Himself.”

“I know that, dear,” Marie said with a warm smile. “I meant of farm life, of course. Scenes. Why don’t you think about that?”

“I’ll tell Clara,” Ella said. “My sister does love to draw.”

“No sense squandering the gift God has given, that’s what I say. Now, I really must go,” Marie said, stooping down and stroking Mary gently on the cheek. “You girls are very sweet. You haven’t made a peep all the time I’ve been here.” Then turning to Ella, she continued, “My husband probably wonders where I got to. He should know better, though. Hah, once I get around quilts I’m lost, that’s for sure. It’s a good thing you only started up, or I’d be here all day.”

“Thank you,” Ella said, offering her hand. “I’ll get this made as soon as I can.”

Ella opened the basement door and listened to the retreating steps. She let out a sigh of relief.
My first sale!
She didn’t dare move until the tires crunched again on the gravel. Sitting down in a chair, Ella pondered what had just happened.
Did I really just sell my first quilt or is this a dream? Did I promise too much? Can I make the quilt in the time I allowed?