Ella's Wish by Jerry S. Eicher Page A

windmill turned and gravity carried the water toward the house.
    Ella started the washing machine with two jerks of the starter rope. She added the soap once she found it in the grocery bags her mom had sent along in the move. An hour later, her wash was clipped to the line and flapping in the breeze. It would easily be dry before dusk.
    As evening approached, Ella’s sense of loneliness increased again. All afternoon she had heard no noise, joined in no human conversation, nor seen another human face, and, besides the wash, she had completed no chores. With this strange silence came the memory of what Arlene had said. Do I really have my eyes on the stars, thus missing the road at my feet? Ella turned the question over all afternoon and was still considering it when she brought the wash in just as the last of the sun’s rays hung in the sky.
    She ironed most of the pile of clothes as darkness fell. She lit the kerosene lamp, went to get the casserole from the basement, and heated it in the oven. While it warmed she added the jam, butter, and bread to the sparse table setting. Satisfied, Ella sat down to eat, bowing her head in silent prayer. Chewing slowly, she jumped when she heard the sound of buggy wheels suddenly rattling in the gravel outside and a horse blowing its nose loudly.
    Surely Daniel has not returned to try his foolish love talk again. He had better sense than that . She walked slowly to the front door, fear gripping her. Is this the bishop? This soon? Come for his answer? He was the last person she wished to see. What with Eli, her parents’ wishes, and now what Arlene had said, she couldn’t think straight enough to face the blaze of his blue eyes. Her legs were like water just thinking about it.
    The firm knock came at the door, and Ella forced herself to answer. She opened it slowly but was unable to make out the face in the darkness. She saw just the shadow of a lengthy beard. So, no, it isn’t Daniel . With her heart heavy, she weakly said, “Come in.”
    “Danki,” the familiar voice said. No, it’s not the bishop either . It was the voice from Aden’s funeral—the voice that had thundered condemnation against mankind’s sin, roared against youthful folly, and came from the one who was ready and able to use even the death of a good man for his own purposes.
    “I’m alone,” Ella said, surprised she would say such a thing. Perhaps she responded to the man’s stance. He stood so vigilant against even the appearance of evil but was now ready to walk into a home alone with a woman who wasn’t his wife.
    “Am I botherin’ you?” he asked, not moving from the porch.
    “I was in the middle of supper,” she said.
    “Then I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
    “No,” she said, “there’s no need for that.”
    What he wanted, Ella couldn’t imagine. Surely Preacher Stutzman didn’t come with a marriage proposal . The thought almost made her laugh, but she caught herself in time. He was, after all, Preacher Stutzman and not a man to bring laughter to a woman’s soul.
    With his hat turning in his hand, he nodded and stepped shyly inside. Ella had a hard time with the change in the man. He hardly seems to be the same person whose sermon had thundered at Aden’s funeral .
    “I won’t keep you long,” he said with a glance toward the food on the table. “Your supper will be gettin’ cold.”
    “How are the girls?” Ella asked, wanting to place him at ease. Perhaps what had been said about him was true, that he was a man broken by his wife’s death. If so, he must have loved her a great deal , she thought with a twinge of compassion.
    “They’re doin’ okay,” he said with some hesitation. “Sister Susanna helps out when she can. But it’s not the same since Lois passed. Nothin’s quite the same.” He stroked his beard gently. Ella noticed for the first time that his eyes were as blue as the bishop’s. Somehow during his preaching, his voice had always overshadowed any