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

already dressed in her work clothes.
    “Now, you get right back in there,” Ida and Susan said at the same time. “We’ll be takin’ care of breakfast.”
    “But I should help,” Lydian said.
    “No, you rest,” Ida said, her voice firm. “You get back in bed. We’ll be callin’ when breakfast’s ready.”
    “You’re much too kind,” Lydian said, a catch in her voice.
    “It’s the least we can do,” Susan said, stepping forward to give Lydian a hug. “I lost a son too. He just wasn’t as old as yours.”
    “I remember that,” Lydian said. “His name was David.”
    “Yah, David. Yet Da Hah has healed my wounds, as He will yours.”
    “This is true,” Lydian agreed. “Even with this great a pain, Da Hah can be healin’ it.”
    “Now, get a few more winks of sleep,” Ida said. “We disturbed Ella enough already.”
    Ella smiled weakly. “I really want to go outside…to see the morning much more than I want to sleep.”
    “We will call you, then, when the food is ready,” Susan said warmly.
    Ella nodded and stepped outside as Lydian closed her bedroom door.
    The predawn morning air held just enough chill to need a light coat. Ella paused. Should I go back in? Nee, the cold feels good to my aching head. It seemed to ease the throb.
    Aden’s parents’ house lay in a hollow, surrounded by trees and the murmur of the little creek in the distance. Open farmland lay behind them, and the open swath ran up the hill a ways. From here none of the open sweeping vistas could be seen from Seager Hill.
    To Ella this had always been Aden’s place and still was today. Many times she had come here Sunday afternoons and for family occasions. To Ella this place had grown to seem much like her own home.
    Few Amish ever moved from Cattaraugus County. It would have been the same for Aden and herself. Aden’s parcel of land lay up on Chapman Road, and they would have brought their children down here and to Seager Hill, adding to both of their parents’ list of grandchildren. She would have called this “Mommy and Dawdy’s place” when speaking to her children. Now it was not to be.
    It was yet another loss among the many she had experienced the last few days. The pain just seemed to continue like tearing away the layers of an onion one at a time. Surely the end would come soon; a time when the pain would be less.
    Perhaps today after the funeral the lessening would start.
    As if to add to her discomfort, the first rays of the morning sun broke over the ridge. Great streaks of light bathed the few low clouds, which hung on the horizon, in orange and red. Above them the half slice of moon still glowed, adding to the glory. Ella gasped at the beauty of it. Yet how could the dawning of Aden’s funeral day bring such magnificence?
    She wanted to shout into the stillness and tell God He must intervene. This was too cruel, too unfeeling to let alone. Her world had been stripped of beauty, love, and desire and left bruised, broken, and undone. What right did this day have to display such beauty?
    The clouds ought to hang their heads in shame, weep in great thunderclouds of grief, and drive winds across the fields as a token of the destruction she felt. Aden, the man who should have lived, whose children she should have borne, was dead, and all the sky could do was show this beautiful sunrise. She lifted her face and wept at the injustice of it all and at a God who would decree it so.
    As if in answer, the sky in front of her increased its brilliant display, adding green and yellow to the color scheme. Ella watched, her face still uplifted toward the heavens. The caw of crows came from the distance. She heard the faint beat of horse’s hooves on the road, and a cow bellowed from the barn. Across the road a house door slammed.
    After a few moments, Ella’s thoughts turned to what would be expected of her after today. She would, of course, be expected to go on with her life. Tradition would be demanded of her. Amish