Ella: An Amish Retelling 0f Cinderella (An Amish Fairytale Book 2) Page 5

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, such news!” Anna rushed into the house, her round face flushed with excitement.

  Behind her, Drusilla carried a large box and dropped it onto the counter, not caring that Ella had just cleaned the kitchen. The box left a poof of white powder that coated the area, something else that Drusilla didn’t care about. “You’ll never believe what happened,” Drusilla said as she stood there, a bag hanging over her arm.

  Getting up from the chair where she had been hemming her stepmother’s dress, Ella set down the dress and crossed the kitchen floor to peek into the box. Flour. Sugar. Other goods from the store. Drusilla always brought groceries home on Mondays.

  Without being asked and certainly without expecting any assistance from her stepsisters, Ella began to put the items away in the cabinets. “Something exciting, I imagine.”

  Drusilla removed the bag from her arm and dropped it on the floor at Ella’s feet. “Oh, absolutely! Why, it’s the most exciting thing that I can remember in all our years living in Echo Creek!”

  Suddenly, Ella tensed up, wondering if it had to do with Hannes, the mysterious young man she had met the previous Friday afternoon at the pond. She had been pondering their encounter ever since, smiling at the memory of their conversation. How rare, indeed, it had been to share her sense of humor with someone. Years ago, she had realized that her new family members didn’t share her sense of the absurd, so she kept a running commentary in her head, amusing herself, if no one else. It had been refreshing to share her humor with someone who could—and did!—appreciate it.

  Now the thought that Hannes might still be in Echo Creek and might, perhaps, have stopped at the store and met her stepmother and stepsisters didn’t sit well with Ella. Surely they wouldn’t have understood his wit, and if they did laugh at his pithy comments, they would have been pretending just for the sake of getting his business. Or, in the case of Drusilla and Anna, a beau.

  Ella hadn’t confided to anyone about her unexpected meeting on Friday with the handsome stranger. She wasn’t certain why. Perhaps it was because nothing exciting ever happened to Ella. Or maybe it was because she remembered those blue eyes watching her when she had been singing at church. From what he had said, it seemed he had been listening to just her voice as she’d sung her worship to God. And, if so, that made Hannes very special indeed. Or it could have been that he had called her a water nymph when he approached her at the pond and talked with her as she imagined a young man would talk to a woman on a buggy ride home from a youth singing.

  No, she didn’t want to share anything about Hannes with anyone, least of all her stepsisters. And while she didn’t believe in secrets, she knew that sometimes there were things that were best kept to oneself.

  As expected, Drusilla didn’t bother to help with the box. Instead, she practically skipped across the floor to the table and sank into the chair at its head. “Deacon King met with Maem today.”

  Immediately, Ella relaxed. A meeting with Deacon King would have nothing to do with the stranger named Hannes. Her stepmother, who made it a point to be front and center as the female voice of the Amish community, often had meetings with the church leaders. Since the store was in town, the bishop or deacon often went there to talk with her. Still, Drusilla’s reaction surprised her. Whatever could be so exciting about Deacon King visiting Linda at the store?

  However, Ella remained mildly curious if for no other reason than her stepsisters were rarely excited about anything unless it had something to do with them.

  “So what was the meeting about?” Ella asked. “The situation at the store?”

  As soon as she asked that last question, Ella realized how much she truly hoped that was the case. Perhaps the community had come together to help Linda, as they often helped others in need. Why, just a few weeks ago, after a terrible accident on the road to Liberty Falls, Melvin Beiler needed a new horse and buggy. The bishop had asked the community to help. Unfortunately, as it turned out, few people had actually chipped in to help Melvin, mostly because Linda herself had made a big fuss about supporting a man who dabbled with inventions instead of doing what she considered real work. Fortunately, someone had been kind enough to donate enough money so that Melvin could buy his new horse and buggy.

  Still, Ella could only hope that, perhaps, her stepmother had reached out to the bishop for advice and the town would help Linda with that unpaid tax bill. And, of course, the bishop would certainly discuss the matter of the ever-increasing prices of the items at Troyers’ General Store. Potentially it could be a win-win for both Linda and the town.

  But Ella’s hopes were quickly dashed.

  “Nee, goose. It’s nothing to do with the store.” Drusilla rolled her eyes as if Ella should have already guessed that. “Why would I care about that?”

  Ella could think of a dozen reasons, but she voiced none of them. Instead, she chided herself for having held any expectation that her stepsisters would spend even a moment’s concern over Linda’s financial situation. Clearly they had no idea how owing so much money for unpaid taxes impacted all of them.

  It was Anna who finally told her what the big news was.

  “The town is holding a bake sale!” Anna practically spun around, her dress billowing slightly about her and exposing her dirty, bare feet. “For charity.”

  A bake sale? Ella frowned. Now it was Ella’s turn to wonder why her stepsisters would think that was so special. Their church district frequently held charity auctions to raise money for people in need. And bake sales were equally common, especially in the late summer and early autumn, when fresh fruits were abundant. Ella usually donated her favorite apple crisp pie, the one with the secret recipe that her own mother had written down on an index card and kept with her other recipes. Ella had hidden that recipe in her Bible and shared it with no one.

  “It’s always nice to raise money for charity,” Ella said at last, still wondering why Anna was so excited about a simple bake sale. “What charity is it for?”

  Ignoring Ella’s question, Anna slid onto the bench by the table and reached into the fruit bowl for an apple. Wiping it on the front of her dress, she gave her sister a stern look. “Tell Ella the best part of it, Dru!”

  Ah! So there’s more! Ella leaned against the counter and, smiling, waited for her stepsister to divulge what she had not shared.

  “It’s going to be a secret auction!” Drusilla said, lowering her voice.

  “Secret?” Ella had never heard of such a thing.

  “Ja, secret.” Drusilla looked rather smug as she explained. “The baked goods will be on display and people will bid on them. But the bidders won’t know who baked them until after they win the item!”

  Anna bit into the apple, and some of the juice ran down her chin. “And the bishop has extended invitations to neighboring church districts.”

  Ella didn’t have to guess why that excited Anna. If families from other towns came to the event, that meant young men would come, too. While Ella appreciated the bishop’s initiative in expanding the social circles for both the families and the unmarried youth of Echo Creek, she felt unsettled by Anna’s fervor to meet new prospective husbands. Eagerness for courting had been the destruction of many a young woman’s reputation. It was always best to let God handle such matters.

  Anna, however, was oblivious to Ella’s thoughts.

  Anna sighed, a dreamy look on her face. “How much fun it’ll be to try to guess who made which pie or cake!” She leaned toward Drusilla and lowered her voice as if sharing a big conspiracy. “I just know Jenny Esh will make that pecan pie like she always does.”

  Drusilla snorted. “And burn it as usual.”

  Anna laughed out loud.

  “That’s not very nice,” Ella scolded, returning her attention to the box, which was filled with dry goods from the store. Flour, sugar, salt, yeast. Everything she needed to make her daily bread except butter and milk, which she always got fresh from their own two cows. “Jenny has m
any talents—”

  “Just not baking,” Drusilla interrupted.

  Hoping to change the direction of the conversation, Ella started putting away the supplies. Long ago, she had stopped being surprised at how judgmental her stepsisters were toward others. She suspected that others had noticed, too. Perhaps that was one of the reasons neither of them had been seriously courted by any of the young men who lived in Echo Creek.

  And, of course, there was their far-too-obvious eagerness to marry, which was surely a turn off for possible suitors.

  Ella opened one of the cabinets and began putting away the clear plastic bags of flour, sugar, and salt. “And what pie will you make, Anna?”

  At this question, Drusilla coughed into her hand as if masking a stifled laugh.

  Ella turned around in time to witness Anna shooting an angry look at her older sister. “Why did you laugh?”

  “I didn’t laugh,” Drusilla claimed. “I coughed.”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Besides, I can’t imagine you baking a pie. It would be as burned as Jenny Esh’s!” Drusilla practically cackled.

  Frowning, Anna pursed her lips and glared. “As if you can bake any better!”

  “You know Maem depends on me at the store! I don’t have time to bake!”

  “As if I do have time, Drusilla? Why, I reckon that I work there just as much as you do!”

  “But not as hard, that’s for sure and certain!” Drusilla’s face was twisted into a mask of fury. To say that there was a competition between the two sisters was an understatement. However, Ella knew that the competition was weak on both sides, for whatever the one blamed the other of doing (or not doing) was equally applicable to the accuser as the accused.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Drusilla!” Anna retorted. “Why, you’ve been sneaking off an awful lot of late.”

  “Have not!”

  Anna put her hands on her hips and, with a self-satisfied look on her face, said two words: “Timothy Miller.”

  Drusilla gasped. “Have you been spying on me?”

  Ella sighed. It was always like this with her stepsisters. The rivalry between the two of them always led to arguing and bickering. Neither one ever won. Instead, the quarrels always ended with loud voices, shouting, and then one of them storming upstairs while the other left the house altogether. It was enough to drive her mad. Ella was in the habit of counting to ten, hoping that she could be the calming presence between the two of them. But she usually failed.

  Today was no different.

  Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, knowing what she had to do in order to distract and redirect the ensuing quarrel. “Why don’t I bake something for you?” Ella offered. It was a half-hearted offer, made only because she knew that, sooner or later, they would ask her anyway. At least this way, by proactively presenting a solution, she could avoid listening to the developing squabble.

  As she had suspected it would, her strategy worked.

  Immediately upon making the offer, Ella saw the irritability vanish from Anna and Drusilla’s faces, replaced with a look of relief.

  Drusilla clasped her hands and pressed them against her chest, the overly dramatic gesture almost causing Ella to roll her eyes. “Oh, would you?”

  Anna gave a small sigh of relief and smiled. “Ja, Ella. Would you do that for us?”

  Sometimes Ella wondered if that was why they argued so much. Most of their quarrels centered on doing chores at home. Over the years, even when her father had been alive, Ella had found it easier to just volunteer to do whatever they were arguing over. She had been taught to please others, to put their needs before her own. Even when she didn’t want to. That was, after all, the final blessing her mother had shared with Ella before passing.

  Unfortunately, Ella knew that her stepsisters had clearly picked up on that tendency, using it to their own advantage.

  In some ways, Ella didn’t mind. She hoped that, deep down, her efforts were appreciated by Drusilla and Anna, even if they never expressed their gratitude. And, even if that was not the case, at least when the arguments centered around weekend chores, Ella’s offers to help meant there would be peace and quiet in the house, for she often did her stepsisters’ work so that they could socialize with their friends.

  Unlike her stepsisters, Ella rarely had time for youth gatherings, and she had never attended a social event in another church district. Linda always had a long list of chores for her to do. By the time Ella finished, it was either too late or she was simply too exhausted to attend.

  Sometimes she managed to join a Sunday evening youth singing. Most recently, Ella had managed to attend a youth picnic just the other month with her friend Sadie Whitaker. And the previous Friday, Ella and Sadie had walked to the Hershbergers’ farm to visit with Belle. But that was the extent of Ella’s most recent social life.

  To make matters even worse, because her attendance was so infrequent, she had never been asked by a young man to ride home in his buggy. Usually the young men had already asked someone to ride home with them before the singing, and because Ella usually didn’t attend, no one ever thought to ask her.

  “So when is this surprise charity event to take place?” Ella asked, returning her attention to putting away the dry goods.

  “In two weeks!” Drusilla stood up and brushed some imaginary dirt from her skirt. “On Saturday evening at seven.”

  “They’re holding it at the schoolhouse,” Anna added. “We must let Bishop know as soon as possible that we’ll be donating an item.” She, too, got up and joined her sister, who had moved toward the kitchen door. “What type of dessert will you make, Ella?”

  Surprised, Ella paused. They never asked about her, so she felt a glimmer of astonishment that Anna had thought to inquire. It was one of those rare moments that gave Ella hope that, deep down, her stepsisters actually cared for her. “You mean what will I bake for my donation?”

  Drusilla made a face and frowned. “No, Ella. For us!”

  I should’ve known better. “Oh.” Ella shut the cabinet door, her hand resting on the polished wood. “Let’s see . . .” She tried to think of what she could make to represent their individual personalities.

  It was easy enough to think of the dessert she would make for Drusilla: a lazy-daisy oatmeal cake. Ella almost giggled at the thought. As for Anna, that was a bit more difficult. Unlike Drusilla, who was more vocal with her complaints, Anna was more of a cheerleader, chiming in with her support of her older sister’s grievances against Ella. It was as if she felt the need to compete with her older sister, even if it was only to prove that she, not Drusilla, was the more miserable of the two. Ella often found herself feeling sorry for Anna, the poor thing, striving so hard to find her place within the family.

  Aha, Ella thought. A poor man’s cake for Anna!

  She suppressed a smile. “I’ll have to give it some thought, but I assure you, they will be absolutely wunderbarr!”

  Both of her stepsisters appeared satisfied and, without another word, headed upstairs to their rooms. And Ella, feeling quite pleased with herself, was left alone to continue her household chores in peace.

  Chapter Six

  On Thursday, Ella was working at the store. Both Drusilla and Anna were too overcome with grief to work.

  Or so they said.

  If anyone should have been upset, it was Ella. But here she was, working at the store, covering both of her stepsisters’ shifts.

  As she stood in the back of the store, unpacking boxes that needed to be inventoried and placed on the shelves or in storage, Ella still could not believe the news.

  Just the previous evening, Linda had returned from the store, a somber look upon her face. At first, Ella had thought that her stepmother was distraught about the store. Surely something had happened. News, perhaps, that did not please her stepmother. Perhaps about the loan.

  Ella had known better than to inquire. If Linda wanted to share the news, she would. Still, all during the supper me
al, Ella waited and watched, her anxiety increasing when she realized that Linda had barely touched a morsel of food.

  Her mood was contagious—Drusilla and Anna had clearly been infected by it. For once, they both remained silent. Ella could hardly understand the morose atmosphere, but she preferred the quiet over her stepsisters’ usual conversation, which either contained gossip or constant bickering.

  After clearing the plates, Ella had brought over dessert plates and a fresh peach pie. But Linda waved it away. Neither of her daughters took a piece, either. Now Ella knew that something serious was afoot.

  Pushing aside her empty plate, Linda took a deep breath and exhaled. The wrinkles around the edges of her eyes seemed deeper than usual. “I suppose I should just say it.”

  “Say what, Maem?” Drusilla asked.

  Linda shut her eyes and shook her head. For a long moment, she sat there, her hands covering her mouth. “Oh, such terrible, horrible news. Most upsetting, I fear.” She sighed and dropped her hands. “I have been trying to think of a way to tell you. But there is no easy way.”

  Ella froze in place, her hands laden with dirty plates that she had been carrying over to the sink. Now Ella knew that her worse fears must surely be before them. A dozen different scenarios flooded through her mind. Linda was ill. The store was bankrupt. The bank had foreclosed. Each scenario increased Ella’s panic.

  And then, finally, Linda shared her news.

  “Sadie Whitaker.” She raised her eyes and stared at Ella. “She’s missing.”