The Girl Called Ella Dessa: Will she ever be cherished for the inner beauty beneath her scars?

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “I think Ella Dessa guessed right. It’s pumpkin bread.” Jim chuckled at Mae’s actions. “You sound like a bear dog with all your sniffing.”

  “Mae quit that.” Ella took the basket from him with her right hand, her left arm supporting Rosemary. “Let me put this on the table.”

  He patted Mae’s head but spoke to Ella. “I remember the first pumpkin bread I brought to you. You devoured it.”

  “I was starved.” She grinned and motioned Mae away from the basket. “Wait ‘til later.”

  Disappointed, the girl slipped away from the table and the tantalizing basket.

  Jim cleared his throat. “I can’t stay. Mother wanted me to see if Velma needed Granny, because I’m headed up to her place when I leave here. We need her—if she can come. Papa’s knee is swelling.”

  “Is it bad?” She could see the worry in his expression.

  “Yeah, pain’s awful. He can’t come down for church today. Doing all that walking at the wedding, without his cane, wasn’t good. So, I got to hurry.”

  She hid her disappointment and patted Rosemary’s back as the girl whimpered. “I hope you don’t catch her fever.”

  “I won’t. How are the other children?”

  Ella pointed. “As you see, Mae’s still hopping. Everyone’s fine. It’s just Rosemary who’s sick.”

  Velma called from the bed, “Hi, Jim. I’m still in bed.”

  “Lazy?” Jim called out, teasing her. “You’re going to get fat.”

  “Why, so I just might! I heard pumpkin bread mentioned. Your mother’s recipe is wonderful.”

  “I know. I eat too much of it. But it’s the last of our stored pumpkins. They didn’t do good this year—not enough rain.”

  “How’s your mother since her oldest daughter is gone?” She raised herself to a sitting position on the bed and held a blanket to her chest.

  “She’s feeling a trifle sad.”

  “She’ll see Grace all the time.”

  “I know, but I even missed Grace at breakfast. I kept expecting her to walk in and start teasing me about something. Samuel forgot and yelled for her to come to eat.” Jim’s face held a sad smile. “You should’ve seen his face when he realized what he did.”

  Ella giggled.

  “Inez has plenty to keep her busy,” Velma said, “even though her oldest has gained a life of her own.”

  “True. It’s just that Mother always figured Duncan would leave first. He’s so headstrong.”

  “Tell her I say hello.”

  “I will.” He turned to Ella and lowered his voice. “I can tell by your face and purple circles under your eyes—you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  She shrugged, laid her cheek against Rosemary’s head, and avoided Jim’s scrutiny.

  “We won’t forget that you might need help.”

  “I know that. Thank you. Take care in the snow.”

  Rosemary whined and wiggled to get down.

  Jim stepped to the door. “I might ride by here to check with you when I take Granny back home.”

  “Yes, do that.” She closed the door behind him and smiled with anticipation at the thought of him returning. “Mae, do you want bread, now? We’ll have it for breakfast.”

  “Uh huh.” While bouncing on her toes, Mae grinned and sang, “I like bread. I like bread. I like sweet pumpkin bread.” She did a cute twirl. “I like it so much!”

  “You better hope you don’t get sick. It’ll take the bounce and song out of you. Everyone, come have a piece.”

  While she pushed a knife through the moist loaf, Ella smiled. Her thoughts dwelt on the fact she’d see Jim in a few hours. I must remember to change my skirt and freshen up.

  Mae pursed her lips, and leaned her elbows on the table. “Why you sighin’ and smilin’ at the bread?”

  “She ain’t smilin’ at the bread.” Carrie slid onto the bench. “You’re silly.”

  Scott walked over, picked up his piece of bread, and went back to the fire.

  Ella laid a slice in Mae’s extended hand. “I’m thinking ‘bout love,” she dared to admit. Realizing she blushed, she placed a hand against her cheek and measured the impact of her own words. Was it love she felt for Jim? Was she too young for love? How she wished she could confide in her mama. Her mama would know.

  “Love?” Mae wrinkled her turned up nose. “You love bread?”

  With a low laugh, she replied, “Of course, among other things.”

  “Things like me?” Mae mumbled the question around a mouthful of bread.

  “No, me,” Remy said and took a slice of bread. He wiggled onto the bench beside Mae. “Ella Dessa loves me.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Your other thing … is it that boy, Samuel?”

  Almost choking on a bite of bread, Ella coughed and shook her head. “No, no. I don’t love him.”

  Carrie shrugged her narrow shoulders. “His eyes watch you. I saw them followin’ you at the weddin’.”

  “That doesn’t mean love.” She laid bread on the table in front of Carrie.

  “Oh. Then he just wants to—to tell you to wait—and be in the barn when he says?”

  “What? Be in the barn?” Ella was confused. Then the impact of the words hit her.

  The girl instantly dropped her eyes. Her expression said she felt ashamed and wished she hadn’t spoken. “Nothin’.” Her face went chalky. Her pretty eyes widened with raw panic.

  Remy forgot to chew and gazed at his big sister with wise round eyes.

  Mae twisted sideways and tapped Carrie’s shoulder. “Like you had to with Pappy?”

  “No, I didn’t!” Carrie slapped the side of Mae’s face, and the smaller girl burst into tears.

  “Shame on you!” Ella glared at Carrie from across the table. “Why’d you hurt your sister? How horrible.”

  Big tears dripped down Carrie’s pale cheeks. She lifted the offending hand and timidly patted Mae’s arm. “I’m sorry.” She bent closer, pushing her face into the curve of Mae’s neck. “Don’t cry.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Velma said. “Do I need to get up?”

  “No. I’ll tend to things.” Ella felt horrified by Carrie’s reactions and the implications.

  Mae continued to whimper, but she clasped Carrie’s hand. The two girls clung to each other with their faces touching and tears mingling. The show of tenderness tore at Ella’s heart, as she watched the emotional scene. She didn’t understand the bond between the two. Forgiveness between siblings wasn’t a subject she had ever seen acted out.

  Remy dropped his head until his chin rested on the table. He stared at the forgotten crumbled bread in his hands. He swallowed, and his big eyes looked up at her. “What’s your other thing?”

  Forcing a light laugh, she patted his head and said, “My other thing is—I love all of you.”

  “Scottie, too?” Remy pointed toward his brother. “Even when he’s mean?”

  “Yes.”

  Mae raised tear-reddened eyes and replied, “I love you, too.” Carrie kept her head bowed, and her left arm encircling Mae’s tiny waist.

  Ella smoothed the wispy ends of Mae’s hair. “Thank you.” It felt good to be loved by the little girl, but the emergent yearning in her heart made her wish to hear the words from another’s lips.

  Chapter 21

  Ella recognized the sound of a horse’s whinny very late in the afternoon. Jim! She lifted Rosemary off her lap, ran to the door, and pushed it open. It was Samuel tying a dark brown horse to the hitching post.

  “It’s you.” Frustration washed over her.

  “Yep, it’s me. You sound disappointed.” He sauntered toward the cabin, tipped his hat at her, and bowed. His actions seemed silly and boyish compared to his older brother’s mature ways. “Me and my trusty steed came through the snow to check on you.” He pointed at the horse. “Big difference that one—from riding Sada.”

  “Hurry, I need to shut the door. It’s cold.”

  Rosemary let out a cry of aband
onment, and her face crumbled. She latched onto Ella’s skirt. With surprising determination, the toddler pulled and jerked at the material. She sobbed and lifted her bare arms.

  “Hush, Rose, I’m not goin’ anywheres.” She picked her up and sighed.

  Samuel tracked in snow and pulled the door closed.

  “She’s sick.” Ella patted the toddler’s naked back.

  “Jim warned me.” He smiled, but winced at the level of Rosemary’s cries. “She’s a loud one, and she looks cold dressed … humm, undressed that way. She needs more than a towel, don’t you think?” He pointed to the only bit of clothing Rosemary wore—a droopy diaper.

  “She’s feverish. I undressed her to cool the fever. Naomi came and said it’s best to undress her.”

  “Don’t make sense to me.” Samuel frowned.

  Ella set Rosemary on her hip and wiped the shivering child’s nose with her skirt hem. “Hush, Rose.”

  “How’s everyone else? Jim sent me ‘cause it got late. Papa’s knee gave out, again. Granny’s trying to ease his pain.” He suddenly noticed the mess his boots caused. “Sorry.”

  “I thought Jim would be comin’ back.” She knew her remark sounded sharp. She felt mean because of disappointment and fatigue.

  “Jim stayed home to help Duncan round up our sheep. The dumb animals found two felled railings and scattered over the slope. Their tracks are in the snow. They must be found. We’ve had trouble with that lone wolf. He’s gotten brave about sneaking in close. It’s not the harshest winter months, yet. He hasn’t bothered the pigs. But, again that’s a—yet.”

  She stared at him. She didn’t care about sheep or pigs. With a sigh, she held her hand to Rosemary’s forehead, mentally wondering if the child’s fever was worse.

  Samuel took a quick look at the messy room.

  Carrie slid sideways down the bench and edged away from him. Her puckered brow told Ella she didn’t want Samuel to speak to her or go near her, and he seemed to get the message.

  “How’s Velma?”

  “Better.” She saw him visibly wince at her sharp tone. Rosemary had wrapped her arms about her neck and proceeded to kick. “Stop, Rose!”

  Rosemary’s bare feet pummeled her belly.

  “Ohh. That must hurt.” Samuel made a funny face at Rosemary.

  The child only cried louder. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. Ella shushed her again, turned away from Samuel, and tried to stop the child’s persistent sobs. “Shh, Rose, it’s only Samuel.”

  “Yeah, it’s only me. Why do you keep saying it that way?”

  “I don’t.” She patted Rosemary’s back. “Shh, baby.”

  “Mother was worried about Velma.”

  “She’s better.”

  “Don’t you just love the snow? Did you notice that the layer of snow hasn’t melted?

  “I ain’t had time to think ‘bout it.”

  “Oh, guess you haven’t.” A glimpse of contrition crossed his face.

  With her hot face pressed against Ella’s neck, Rosemary continued to whimper.

  “Shh, shh, Rose,” she murmured. “Samuel, you need to leave before you get ill.”

  The day had waxed long and tiring, and she longed to crumple to the floor and sob along with Rosemary. She wasn’t in any mood to chat with Samuel about the weather or anything else, and she hoped her voice conveyed that fact.

  “Do you mind if I stay long enough to get warm—before starting back? It’s getting colder.” His cheeks were blotched with pink.

  “Go stand by the fire.” She rubbed her hand up and down Rosemary’s back. “Shh, please stop crying.”

  Samuel tossed his coat over the closest bench and placed his hat on it. Carrie scurried from the table when he got too close. “Hi, Carrie,” he said.

  She ignored him.

  “Carrie’s been a big help.” Ella tried to nullify the wide-eyed jumpiness in the girl’s actions.

  The girl gave Samuel another apprehensive look, before hurrying away to sit in the shadows on the floor near her mama’s bed.

  “I’m not sick.” Mae made the announcement of her fitness by coming around the curtain. She stepped over Carrie’s legs and waved a hairless doll above her head. “This baby isn’t sick.”

  Velma’s voice came from the shadowed bed. “Sam, I hear your voice above the cryin’. Sorry, I can’t get out of bed to greet you.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Clanders. Are you better?”

  “I think I am. This isn’t a good place to be. You’ll get what my little one has.”

  “That’s right. Samuel. You should leave.” Ella wiped the child’s tears with her free hand and jiggled her up and down.

  She felt at her wit’s end. The little girl had cried non-stop for an hour. She refused to lie on the little bed near Velma, and her fever seemed worse. She had pushed away any wet cloth placed on her forehead and rebuffed water from a cup. Ella had finally stripped Rosemary to her diaper, in an effort to cool her petite body.

  An hour before, Velma had succumbed to her own bout of tears, fretting because she couldn’t help with her sick child. And Rosemary’s constant crying and refusal to accept her comforting arms upset the pregnant woman.

  Samuel stood in front of the fire, hands extended. Ella saw him look over his shoulder at her.

  “Want me to hold her?”

  “No, that wouldn’t help.” She stepped closer. “Samuel, please go.” Coupled with her disappointment at having him show up, instead of Jim, and the tiredness she felt, she was in no mood to be friendly.

  “I don’t mind. Phillip likes for me to hold him.”

  “No. I just want to sit and rock her to sleep.”

  Before she could react, Samuel deftly plucked Rosemary from her tired arms.

  “Hey, what’s the problem, baby girl?” He gave her a wide grin, despite her sobs. “You’re cold with no clothes on. Look at the gooseflesh on your pitiful arms. Ella Dessa wants to freeze you, much like the pretty snowflakes outside. Does your throat hurt?”

  Ella gawked at him, flabbergasted he had actually snatched Rosemary from her arms. She gritted her teeth and hissed, “What are you doin’? Give her back.” She didn’t want Velma to hear them arguing. “Samuel, you ain’t helping things.”

  Rosemary’s cries escalated.

  “I’m helping. Ain’t that right.” He bounced the child in his arms and wrinkled his face. “Want to see me make a face like a bear? Grrr!”

  Ella clapped her hands over her ears and fought tears. “Samuel, please! Do you think that does any good?”

  “I want to see!” Mae ran to him. “Look, Rosemary. A bear.”

  “What’s happenin’? Is Rose worse?” Velma’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Ella?”

  Scott and Remy got up from where they played.

  “Let my sister go.” Scott made it a demand and raised a small fist.

  Samuel continued to talk twaddle to Rosemary. “Hey, Mae’s playing with a doll. See that?” He whirled sideways to let the toddler see Mae standing beside him. “Look, no eyes. That’s a pretty doll with no eyes. Yes, it is. Rosemary, where’s your eyes? I bet you don’t know.”

  Mae giggled with her hands over her mouth. “She knows.”

  Ella saw Carrie cower into a ball near the bed and cover her ears.

  Still sobbing, Rosemary rubbed her eyes with tiny fists and laid her head against Samuel’s shoulder. He tucked the child’s face into the curve of his neck, held the back of her head, and jostled her up and down. “Shut your eyes, shut your eyes—little one,” he crooned.

  Ella pointed at Scott. “Go! Go play—now! Samuel, give her to me.”

  “Shh, shh.”

  “Ella, what’s goin’ on?”

  “It’s nothin’, Velma. Samuel’s the problem.” She noticed his appraising eyes sweep over her face and rumpled clothes. She glared at him. “He isn’t listenin’ to me.”

  “Shut your eyes, lullaby baby. You’re my lullaby baby. Shut your eyes … go to sleep.” He mov
ed in a slow circle and swayed Rosemary in his arms.

  “You sing funny.” Mae tugged on his shirtsleeve. “That’s not a song.”

  “Mae, that’s not nice,” Velma called out. “Be quiet. It sounds like he’s doin’ some good.”

  “Samuel.” Ella motioned to him, one more time, with her arms outstretched.

  Go sit down, he mouthed, as Rosemary’s incessant cries became soft hiccups. “I know what I’m doing, so shut … your eyes, Ella … Dessa,” he sang. He dipped and circled the room with Rosemary snug against his chest.

  “Sure you do. Singing crazy songs.” She folded her arms in defeat. She would’ve willingly punched him—had he not been holding the little girl. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Velma shake her head and lie back down. Shame washed over her.

  Samuel placed a finger against his lips and pointed at Rosemary’s face. He continued his childish song. “Shh, she’s shutting her eyes. Go to sleep, go to sleep—” Whirling, he placed his back to the room of staring eyes.

  Ella let her shoulders droop.

  She gave into the unexpected relief washing over her. It wouldn’t do to be angry with Samuel for quieting the girl when she couldn’t. She caught his eye, lifted her coat off a straight-backed chair, and pointed at the door. She heard the soft words of another, more familiar, lullaby—as Samuel nodded his blond head in understanding.

  He shuffled in a half-circle, but his intense green eyes never left her face.

  She recognized true compassion in his gaze.

  His heavy boots scraped along the pine board floor, and he held Rosemary’s limp, half-nude form in his well-built arms. The tender image softened her heart.

  Ella fled to the outhouse and pulled the haphazard door shut on the outside world. She sat and burst into a torrent of tears. She felt like a failure, and the sight of Samuel—a boy—rocking and crooning to Rosemary strengthened her low opinion of herself. He had calmed the sick baby when she failed.

  *******

  Ella slipped into the silent cabin and latched the door. She saw Mae on the floor beside the old rocker, the doll cradled in her skinny arms. The girl placed a finger to her lips and pointed.