Ivan’s girls, only to swoop in himself afterward to pick up her heart. And worse, if Ivan learned of any of this—of her unwanted attraction to the Englisha man or of any inappropriate action with an outside man, he would be obligated to cut off their relationship.
“You won’t succeed!” Ella cried, casting the retort back toward her horse, as if he were the young bishop himself. “I told you no once, and I still mean it!”
The barn fell into darkness as Ella turned the valve on the lantern. She felt the heaviness descend on her. She reached out with her hands, lest she bump into something. The door handle was soon under her fingers, and she stepped outside. She was prepared to face the blast of the wind with the sting of snow but was surprised when only the wind came.
A quick glance up showed the scurry of clouds already broken up by the strong wind. Stars twinkled through in spots, and then they were covered up again in the race of the clouds. The temperature had dropped rapidly, making the night much clearer.
Had she been seen? Well, if so, she would simply tell Ronda the truth. At least part of it. That she had gone to the barn to be with Moonbeam. A sort of therapy that Ronda might understand. A lecture might follow no doubt, along the lines of Ella needing a husband for therapy, but she could bear up under that. She would tell Ronda, “I’m trying,” although Ronda wouldn’t know how hard she was—or wasn’t—trying.
Her trip to the barn had helped, but it also had raised a new dilemma. How was she to know for sure of the bishop’s plans? He lived in a different district from hers and could take any visitors to church with him and she wouldn’t know. She might not know for weeks if Robert were still around.
Ella tried to run through the snow, but had to slow down. Then, reaching the concrete steps down to her basement door, she slipped on the top step and missed the next two before her hands caught anything solid. With a jar, she landed hard.
“Dumb…dumb…dumb…” she muttered. “Do be more careful, woman!”
Slowly she moved. Thankfully there was no pain. A quick glance upward revealed no faces in one of the first floor windows. Ella got up and took the rest of the steps more carefully.
Inside, with the door shut tightly behind her, she first checked behind the curtains and found the girls still sound asleep. She then added extra wood to the fire. Even more would be needed later, as arctic as the temperature was outside. She would know when the fire died down by the cold creeping in and awakening her.
For a long moment Ella paused, thinking, and then made a quick dash for her journal. Tomorrow morning she would be too tired to think, but right now the thoughts raced clearly through her head. She turned the kerosene wick up as high as it would go and wrote quickly.
I fear that my heart has betrayed me to an Englisha man. And yet how can that be? On top of that, I think the bishop will try to help him—for his own reasons of course. Part of me wants to think this can’t be true, that even though the bishop had his feelings hurt by my refusal to marry him, he would still have enough sense to know that I won’t reconsider under any circumstances.
Another part of me—the stronger part—tells me I am right. That the bishop will help out the Englisha man. He will give Robert the shelter and the direction he needs until a division between me and Ivan can be created. Bishop Miller is a very wise man. He among all people knows how much I loved Aden and that I don’t have the same feelings for Ivan yet.
I know I’m right, and yet I can’t even tell Ivan, like I feel I should. If I were to confess my attraction to an Englisha man, that would be exactly what Bishop Miller wants. See, already his plan is working! I do so wish Da Hah would help me somehow. I don’t want to turn out like Eli.
Ella wrote the last words in a heavy hand, the pencil pressed down so hard the lead almost went
“You won’t succeed!” Ella cried, casting the retort back toward her horse, as if he were the young bishop himself. “I told you no once, and I still mean it!”
The barn fell into darkness as Ella turned the valve on the lantern. She felt the heaviness descend on her. She reached out with her hands, lest she bump into something. The door handle was soon under her fingers, and she stepped outside. She was prepared to face the blast of the wind with the sting of snow but was surprised when only the wind came.
A quick glance up showed the scurry of clouds already broken up by the strong wind. Stars twinkled through in spots, and then they were covered up again in the race of the clouds. The temperature had dropped rapidly, making the night much clearer.
Had she been seen? Well, if so, she would simply tell Ronda the truth. At least part of it. That she had gone to the barn to be with Moonbeam. A sort of therapy that Ronda might understand. A lecture might follow no doubt, along the lines of Ella needing a husband for therapy, but she could bear up under that. She would tell Ronda, “I’m trying,” although Ronda wouldn’t know how hard she was—or wasn’t—trying.
Her trip to the barn had helped, but it also had raised a new dilemma. How was she to know for sure of the bishop’s plans? He lived in a different district from hers and could take any visitors to church with him and she wouldn’t know. She might not know for weeks if Robert were still around.
Ella tried to run through the snow, but had to slow down. Then, reaching the concrete steps down to her basement door, she slipped on the top step and missed the next two before her hands caught anything solid. With a jar, she landed hard.
“Dumb…dumb…dumb…” she muttered. “Do be more careful, woman!”
Slowly she moved. Thankfully there was no pain. A quick glance upward revealed no faces in one of the first floor windows. Ella got up and took the rest of the steps more carefully.
Inside, with the door shut tightly behind her, she first checked behind the curtains and found the girls still sound asleep. She then added extra wood to the fire. Even more would be needed later, as arctic as the temperature was outside. She would know when the fire died down by the cold creeping in and awakening her.
For a long moment Ella paused, thinking, and then made a quick dash for her journal. Tomorrow morning she would be too tired to think, but right now the thoughts raced clearly through her head. She turned the kerosene wick up as high as it would go and wrote quickly.
I fear that my heart has betrayed me to an Englisha man. And yet how can that be? On top of that, I think the bishop will try to help him—for his own reasons of course. Part of me wants to think this can’t be true, that even though the bishop had his feelings hurt by my refusal to marry him, he would still have enough sense to know that I won’t reconsider under any circumstances.
Another part of me—the stronger part—tells me I am right. That the bishop will help out the Englisha man. He will give Robert the shelter and the direction he needs until a division between me and Ivan can be created. Bishop Miller is a very wise man. He among all people knows how much I loved Aden and that I don’t have the same feelings for Ivan yet.
I know I’m right, and yet I can’t even tell Ivan, like I feel I should. If I were to confess my attraction to an Englisha man, that would be exactly what Bishop Miller wants. See, already his plan is working! I do so wish Da Hah would help me somehow. I don’t want to turn out like Eli.
Ella wrote the last words in a heavy hand, the pencil pressed down so hard the lead almost went
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