Read Online Ella Finds Love Again by Jerry S. Eicher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jerry S. Eicher
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would cease once she was Ivan’s wife. That would be another gut thing to come out of their union.
What would she do with this house after the wedding? It had served her well, but more and more she was coming to see that it was meant for a husband and wife…not for her alone. Perhaps with her marriage to another man, she would give the house to Clara…or Dora. It didn’t really matter, just so it was someone from the family. She would gladly give the place to Eli if he would come back to the faith, but that chance seemed slim.
Ella returned to the table with the journal in her hand. Baby Barbara had turned over and was staring at the ceiling. Before Ella sat down, she moved Barbara closer to the light from the window. The child needed all the sunlight she could get. These winter days were dreary, and spring was still a long way off.
With the journal open, Ella squinted to read the words. She too needed more light. One could wash clothing, fix breakfast, and clean the kitchen in dim conditions, but writing was another matter. She would bring out the kerosene lamp. Nee , this was a day that needed plenty of light—only the gas lantern would do. Besides, she and Ronda could use the extra light to quilt with later in the day.
Ella pumped the air handle on the lantern until it wouldn’t move anymore. She turned on the gas. With the lit match held a fraction of an inch from the mantle, the lantern popped into flame and was soon glowing with a steady hiss. She sat down, prepared to write.
So, I’m seriously considering love again. It’s strange that I should come to this point, after I’ve vowed so many times I never would. And yet there’s this conviction in me that I had best move forward because standing still no longer looks like a wise choice. It feels almost dangerous in a way. The funeral of Ivan’s mother drove that home to me. We went to the graveyard, and there was the place where my wonderful Aden lies. I avoided it, of course, but I knew it was there, and the ache was still painful. But I could at least bear it for the first time. I think that’s progress, or so it seems to me.
There was a time when I didn’t dare have thoughts like this, let alone write them down. Aden was the most precious thing that had ever happened to me. It was Aden who taught me what love was, what it feels like, and yet he was taken from me. Why? I guess I will never know, but as our people say, Da Hah knows. One can but trust Him. And to doubt would be too terrible a thing to even imagine.
I suppose I’m wrong to think this, but I have to laugh when I remember Bishop Miller’s face at the graveyard. He had the prayer, and he didn’t look too happy to see me. He basically ignored me, which is fine. And I really can’t say I blame him. I suppose he never had a girl stand up to him before. At least that’s what was whispered to me in my thoughts.
He’s a good-looking fellow—and confident as all get out—but it takes much more than that. To be honest, the bishop gave me nightmares. Oh, not that he’s really a bad apple. It’s just that life with him wasn’t for me.
I would have disappointed him once he got to know me. Somewhere after the wedding vows, when it would have been too late, he would have had regrets. And how terrible would that be—to be married to a man knowing one can never meet his high standards.
The sacred vows make all things right, at least according to our people, but somehow I have a hard time believing it. I think Aden taught me that when he showed me what love was. Love can never be harnessed to a buggy like a horse. But really, I shouldn’t be saying such things. I probably should burn this journal. What if someone else reads it someday? But in the meantime, it does me good to keep writing.
I know that I love Ivan’s girls. And Ivan’s okay, I guess. He’s a tenderhearted man, and I’ll love him in time, I guess, in my own feeble way. I know- I could never love another man like I loved Aden.
What would she do with this house after the wedding? It had served her well, but more and more she was coming to see that it was meant for a husband and wife…not for her alone. Perhaps with her marriage to another man, she would give the house to Clara…or Dora. It didn’t really matter, just so it was someone from the family. She would gladly give the place to Eli if he would come back to the faith, but that chance seemed slim.
Ella returned to the table with the journal in her hand. Baby Barbara had turned over and was staring at the ceiling. Before Ella sat down, she moved Barbara closer to the light from the window. The child needed all the sunlight she could get. These winter days were dreary, and spring was still a long way off.
With the journal open, Ella squinted to read the words. She too needed more light. One could wash clothing, fix breakfast, and clean the kitchen in dim conditions, but writing was another matter. She would bring out the kerosene lamp. Nee , this was a day that needed plenty of light—only the gas lantern would do. Besides, she and Ronda could use the extra light to quilt with later in the day.
Ella pumped the air handle on the lantern until it wouldn’t move anymore. She turned on the gas. With the lit match held a fraction of an inch from the mantle, the lantern popped into flame and was soon glowing with a steady hiss. She sat down, prepared to write.
So, I’m seriously considering love again. It’s strange that I should come to this point, after I’ve vowed so many times I never would. And yet there’s this conviction in me that I had best move forward because standing still no longer looks like a wise choice. It feels almost dangerous in a way. The funeral of Ivan’s mother drove that home to me. We went to the graveyard, and there was the place where my wonderful Aden lies. I avoided it, of course, but I knew it was there, and the ache was still painful. But I could at least bear it for the first time. I think that’s progress, or so it seems to me.
There was a time when I didn’t dare have thoughts like this, let alone write them down. Aden was the most precious thing that had ever happened to me. It was Aden who taught me what love was, what it feels like, and yet he was taken from me. Why? I guess I will never know, but as our people say, Da Hah knows. One can but trust Him. And to doubt would be too terrible a thing to even imagine.
I suppose I’m wrong to think this, but I have to laugh when I remember Bishop Miller’s face at the graveyard. He had the prayer, and he didn’t look too happy to see me. He basically ignored me, which is fine. And I really can’t say I blame him. I suppose he never had a girl stand up to him before. At least that’s what was whispered to me in my thoughts.
He’s a good-looking fellow—and confident as all get out—but it takes much more than that. To be honest, the bishop gave me nightmares. Oh, not that he’s really a bad apple. It’s just that life with him wasn’t for me.
I would have disappointed him once he got to know me. Somewhere after the wedding vows, when it would have been too late, he would have had regrets. And how terrible would that be—to be married to a man knowing one can never meet his high standards.
The sacred vows make all things right, at least according to our people, but somehow I have a hard time believing it. I think Aden taught me that when he showed me what love was. Love can never be harnessed to a buggy like a horse. But really, I shouldn’t be saying such things. I probably should burn this journal. What if someone else reads it someday? But in the meantime, it does me good to keep writing.
I know that I love Ivan’s girls. And Ivan’s okay, I guess. He’s a tenderhearted man, and I’ll love him in time, I guess, in my own feeble way. I know- I could never love another man like I loved Aden.
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