A Wedding Quilt for Ella by Jerry S. Eicher Read Free Book Online Page A

stay in focus. He is still looking. She was sure of it. Finally she turned around slowly, letting her eyes meet his. They were simply too beautiful to stay away from.

Seven
     
    E lla, dressed in black, left with Daett and Mamm in the surrey at around eleven. Thankfully no one was in the backseat with her. It was much better this way. Dora had wanted to come along, but Mamm wouldn’t allow it. This way no one would speak extra words because they felt uncomfortable with her or, worse, pitied her.
    “You’re needed at home, Dora,” Mamm had said. “Ella should be alone anyway. Let her grieve by herself. You, Eli, and Monroe can manage the chores. You can all come over afterward. Clara doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. Let her decide when she comes home from school.”
    Ella drew the vinyl doors closed on both sides of the surrey. The darkness inside deepened. It was cold outside, and she pulled the buggy blanket up higher. Mamm and Daett were vague, silent forms up front. She was alone and hidden inside. Alone. She considered the word. Is that not what I am now — alone? I might as well get used to it.
    They drove down the hill and past the schoolhouse. Thankfully they passed no one on the road. Even at the usually busy intersection at the bottom of the hill with its multiple Amish homes and businesses, there was no one. Any Amish person who saw them would know where they were headed. Even their sympathy would be intrusive at the moment.
    Later perhaps, after a little more time, the people could be faced. The funeral would be tomorrow with the house full of people. Was that not asking enough? For now each moment was a long event, a drawn-out effort to survive the pain. Each breath was a shameful event, one in which her heart went on beating and Aden’s no longer did.
    “It has been a beautiful morning,” Daett said from the seat in front. “The Lord has given us grace again for this day.”
    Ella wanted to say there ought to be rain, great buckets of it, pouring out of the sky. But then her father’s remark had not really been for her, though she couldn’t help but hear it. He usually was more sensitive to her feelings than that.
    “Yah, it is,” her mother said, “but we best not speak of it today. It is the day of Ella’s sorrow.”
    “I had not forgotten this,” her father said. “I know my daughter’s heart is broken, but we must still give thanks for what Da Hah gives us.”
    Ella gripped the edge of the buggy blanket. What was there to say? Words couldn’t begin to describe how she felt. Even if she could say them, they wouldn’t help this pain or cause it to ache any less.
    Why had the God of her people done this? They taught He held all things in His hands and could do what He wished. Why then has He chosen to take Aden? Why has He snatched Aden away before I could be his wife, spend time with him in a married state, and at least bear his child? To have his child now would ease the pain. To have a little piece of Aden, perhaps a son to carry on his name, his memory, and his looks would be a comfort. Now there would be nothing. It is as if Aden has been wiped off the face of the earth without any trace left behind. How could the earth be any darker — or crueler — than it is now?
    Not only had God let her down, her faith had let her down too. If it were not for tradition, she would already have been married.
    “You have to be twenty-one, Ella.” She could still hear the voices. “We all have to be. It’s the way of our people. It’s the blessing the forefathers left—where children learn to serve at home before they take on their own responsibilities.”
    Well, it had been no blessing to her. She had waited for more than two years and longed to share more with Aden than the infrequent embrace he gave her or the momentary kiss he allowed. She didn’t want to breach the sacred privileges of married life. She had just wanted to marry him then, when they had first confessed their