Samuel cuddled Rosemary against his neck. His fingertips gently drew circles on her naked back. She slept, limbs relaxed, sweaty hair sticking to her flushed cheeks and neck.
Apparently proud of his accomplishment, he grinned at Ella. “I think the fever’s breaking,” he whispered.
With a shake of her head, she turned and straightened the disorganized room. She went to Velma’s bed. The woman slept with Carrie curled beside her.
“I want to stay here.” Carrie’s big eyes glistened. “Please?”
She nodded and pulled a blanket up to Carrie’s shoulders. With a light touch, she laid her hand against her forehead. “No fever.” She experienced a touch of relief. “Take a nap ‘til time to eat.”
Ella lit a lantern, added wood to the dying fire, and hung a kettle of water over it. Quietly, she prepared their evening meal by peeling potatoes and dropping them into the kettle. She wielded a large knife and cut a skinny slab of salted ham into chunks.
Ignoring the fact Samuel kept watching, she tossed the ham pieces in with the potatoes. Why can’t he look elsewhere? Does he think I can’t cook?
She sighed and admitted to herself that her cooking skills weren’t good. All she could do was try. She drew comfort from the knowledge there was leftover pumpkin bread to serve with the meal. Soup would do them all some good and stave off Rosemary’s illness.
As she shoved another chunk of wood into the flames, she had to admit—Samuel’s presence had eased the stress. She couldn’t blame him for her selfish irritation Jim hadn’t been the one to come back. She knew Jim had responsibilities piled on him.
She pondered the burden of tending to Rosemary during the coming night, especially with lack of sleep. She knew Samuel did the right thing by taking the toddler from her arms. If he hadn’t, the girl might still be crying.
God, I’m sorry for my anger at Samuel. Forgive me. No doubt, you sent him at the right moment. I treated him badly.
Ella wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders.
She was her mama’s daughter, and her mama had been a strong woman. She wanted to be like her, even though she felt burdened with a lack of confidence in her own abilities and appearance. She ran a hand over her messy hair and cringed at the realization it needed brushing.
Oh my! Now I’m glad Jim didn’t come.
The scent of potato soup and ham drifted throughout the room, and her stomach growled. With a touch of shame, she let herself smile at Samuel. She hoped he understood she was no longer upset.
*******
Samuel kept rocking. He observed Ella Dessa’s self-conscious movements about the fire and table. He noted the puffy appearance of her reddened eyelids. She had spent time crying while outside. He could tell she had felt troubled and humiliated. He also recognized her outward show of relief.
He found her attractive. Her waist-length hair loosened itself from the ribbon at the nape of her neck, and blond strands curled about her freckled face. Her lovely hair caught the gold tints in the reddish-orange flames of the fire and shone with what his mother called a strawberry-blond hue. In its depths, he saw the soft color of rich honey.
Once or twice, her weary blue eyes met his, and, finally, a small appreciative smile touched her pink lips.
He relaxed into the curved back of the pine rocker and continued to support the sleeping toddler. Her delicate skin felt hot against his arm. The feverish heat came through the material of his shirt. He started to sweat, but he didn’t want to move and disturb her. He felt comfortable with young children. After all, he’d played with Phillip since his brother was a little thing.
Samuel laid his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed in the mixed scent of the cooking food and fire smoke. The gentle, rhythmic squeak of the rocking chair brought a contented smile to his lips. His thoughts mingled the vision of Ella Dessa bent over the fire, with the idea of having his own family. His mind took over and fashioned a life where he was a husband and father, relaxing after a day’s work, and cradling his own child.
He and his wife would have a large full-log cabin, built with his own two hands, and tucked under the lip of the mountain. They’d have huge pines to shade it in the summer. There would be a bouncing and trickling creek, running over sun-drenched rocks, for the children to play in. He could see himself coming out of the forest, a deer balanced over his wide, capable shoulders, and his gun slung across his back. His wife would see him. A smile would light her face as she lifted her hand to wave. The sunlight would glint in her blond hair.
Lost in his vivid imagination, Samuel didn’t realize Ella Dessa spoke to him until Mae walloped his leg with her doll.
“Don’t ya hear her?” She peered through long bangs and swung the soft doll again. “Wake up.”
Samuel blinked, rubbed his eyes with his free hand, and noticed Ella Dessa walking toward him. “Ah, did you … what?”
“I said I’ll take her and put her down so we can eat. I gave Velma a bowl of soup. I’m sorry, if you were dozin’.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just—lost in thought.”
Ella Dessa held out her arms. “Please, I’ll carry her to bed.”
Carefully, Samuel stood and placed the relaxed body of the sick girl in her arms. Soft strands of Ella Dessa’s hair caressed his fingers when he drew his hands away. While raising and lowering his stiff shoulders, Samuel examined his palms. He almost fancied his skin tingled where—for just an instant—her hair had rested.
“Whew.” He shook his hands at his sides.
“What’s wrong? Why you shakin’?” Mae draped the limp faceless doll over one of her shoulders and frowned. “Your face is red. You gettin’ sick, too? Is Ella goin’ to make you lay down? She peeled Rosemary’s clothes off her. Well?” She waited for his reply, and her inquisitive blue eyes never left his face. In their depths, he could see tiny flecks of brown.
“Well?” Samuel copied her. The child resembled a shaggy puppy, and he dropped to her level. “Humph! Nothing wrong, not getting sick, not laying down and no peeling off my clothes. Now, you answer a question. Why do little children stare so much?”
Mae shrugged and pushed her doll into his hands. “Want to rock my baby?”
“Ah, not now.”
“She’s cryin’.”
His fingers wrapped themselves about the floppy doll, and he wiggled it from side to side, making its cloth head bounce. “Oh, look at my head.” He used a squeaky voice and Mae giggled. “It’s going to fall off!”
Remy ran over to join in the fun. But Scott ignored Samuel and the silly doll.
Ella Dessa returned from shoving the curtain to the side and tucking Rosemary into bed. She smiled at the sight of him playing with a doll. Carrie reluctantly followed behind her. The girl’s face revealed the fact she’d rather stay near her mother on the secluded bed. She sat at the table and stared down at it.
He felt embarrassed and stood. “Did she stay asleep?” He dropped the floppy doll into Mae’s extended arms.
“Yes. I put a gown on her. She seems cooler.” She stood before him and clasped her hands at her waist. “Thank you for what you did.”
“I wanted to help you.”
Her tired blue eyes searched his face. “I’m sorry for my actions.”
“Ahh, I acted like a nut.” He smiled at her serious face, hoping to put her at ease. “All is forgiven. We’re friends?”
“Yes.” A pink flush painted her cheeks. “We are.”
“I’m sure glad.” He wanted to say more but caught himself in time.
“What will your mother be thinkin’?”
“That I got lost on the mountain?” He grimaced and fixed his eyes on the dark window. “Jim or Duncan will soon appear. They’ll figure there’s trouble here. I should head out, right now, and meet them along the way.” As he said the words, he admitted to himself he didn’t want to leave.
“Sit and eat a bite. You can soon be on your way.”
The six of them crowded together at the table, spo
oned the potato soup, and munched on pumpkin bread. He and Ella Dessa talked in muted voices about the snow, Grace’s wedding, and the new school—soon to be in session.
Mae seemed more subdued—not her bouncy self—and he noted Carrie ate very little. She fiddled with her spoon, tapped it on the table, and repeatedly refused to look him in the eye. Remy sat beside him, watching, and listening. Scott was glum, eyeing him as if he were an intruder.
Samuel hoped Jim wouldn’t show up. He wanted time to talk without his big brother winning Ella Dessa’s shy attention.
She handed him another slice of bread. “Eat some more?”
“No, I get plenty at home. Save it for the boys.” He left the table and placed three logs on the fire. “I best be leaving.”
“We can loan you a lantern.”
“That’d help.” He didn’t relish the idea of riding the trail in the dark— let alone by himself. His coming down to the cove by himself had been a first. It only happened because of the unusual circumstances.
Ella Dessa rose from her seat and went to get the extra lantern. “This one has plenty of oil. It just might be hard to carry on a horse.”
“I got to go to the outhouse,” Scott muttered to Ella Dessa and pulled on a ragged coat.
Samuel took the offered lantern and set it on the corner of the table. “I’ll light it when I leave.” He reached for his coat and pushed his arms into the sleeves. “Sure must be pitch-black by now. Scott didn’t take a lantern?”
Ella frowned. “Why, no, he didn’t.”
Suddenly, sobs erupted from outside the cabin door. Samuel saw Ella Dessa’s eyes widen in alarm.
“That’s Scott.” She ran for the door and pushed it open. “Scottie?”
Crumbled within the meager light from the cabin’s open door was the boy. He sat in the snow and wept with hands over his face.
“Here, let me.” Samuel lifted the lightweight boy in his arms and carried him inside. “Where do I put him?”
“Right here.” Ella Dessa pointed at her pile of blankets on the floor.
He lowered the boy. Both he and Ella Dessa knelt beside him.
“Scott? What’s wrong? What happened?” She ran her hand over his head and neck. “Did you slip and fall in the dark?”
The youngster buried his face in the blankets. His sobbed words were barely discernible. “Leave me alone.”
“Scott, why?” She tried to make him look at her. “Please, we need to know.”
“Mama’s goin’ to die!”
“What?” Ella Dessa gasped. “No! What makes you say that?”
“She’s … she’s not gettin’ up. She don’t eat with us.” His wails escalated.
“Is that Scottie?” Velma yelled. “What’s wrong now?”
Chapter 22
Ella gulped back tears and ran to Velma. “He’s upset. He thinks you’re dying ‘cause you ain’t gettin’ up. I’ll talk to him.”
“I need to go to him.” Her narrow face appeared as a pallid shadow in the firelight. “Enough of this. I can’t takes this bed-layin’ no more. I love the child I’m carryin,’ but that’s my first born son.” She swung her scrawny legs and bare feet over the edge of the bed and stood.
“I’ll bring him to you.”
“No, he has to see me up an’ movin’.”
Ella felt tears on her own face, as she assisted Velma in donning a heavy shawl to cover most of the gathered nightshift and long woolen socks.
Samuel still crouched on the floor. Scott had wedged himself under the table and shrieked with broken cries. Mae’s bare feet dangled near his shoulder, but she pulled them to the bench, out of Scott’s reach, and wrapped her arms about her knees.
Carrie covered her ears and scrunched her eyes shut. “Make him stop. He’s hurtin’ my ears!”
Ella knelt beside Samuel and peered under the table. “Shh, Scott, here’s your mama. See? She’s out of bed. Please, come out.”
His jerky screams hushed. His red-rimmed eyes riveted on Velma’s bare feet. “Mama?”
She stepped back so he could see her. She waved to him. “Scottie, what’s wrong with you? You’ve upset us all by screamin’ like a banshee.”
He crawled out on his hands and knees. “Mama,” he moaned. “Don’t leave us.”
Samuel snatched the wooden rocker and slid it toward Velma. With a look of gratitude, she sank into it. Scott was too large to sit on her lap, her being pregnant and all, but he knelt and clung to her. He broke into a fresh river of tears.
“Shh.” She patted his back. “I’m not goin’ no place. What makes you think that?”
Scott raised his head and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. “Sick people—don’t get outta bed. They die.”
“No, no. I ain’t doing nothin’ of the sort.”
Ella lifted Mae off the bench. With a pale, serious look, the four-year-old hugged her neck. “Scottie scared me,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. He’s tired, and I think you’re tired. I’m putting you in your mama’s bed. Hang on to the doll.” She took Mae over to the lumpy cornhusk mattress, gently laid the child on her side, and kissed her forehead. Turning to the low baby bed, she checked on Rosemary. The sick two-year-old slept, despite the noise.
“Velma, Mae’s worn out. I put her on your bed.” Ella stopped near the rocker and laid her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Her fingers could actually trace bones beneath the woman’s skin.
“You’re a wonderful help.” Velma smiled up at her. Bluish-black circles filled the wrinkled space under her sunken eyes.
Remy came over and stood beside the rocker. Carrie slipped off the bench and faded into the darkness along the outside wall. Her distrustful eyes watched Samuel when he squatted before the fire and built it to a cheerful, crackling flame.
“My poor babies.” Velma ran her fingers through Scott’s messy hair. “Life’s hard to understand.”
The boy relaxed into almost a stupor, his face against her pregnant belly.
Ella worried about Velma’s condition. “Velma, if Scott will lay beside you, shouldn’t you go to bed?”
“We can try that.”
“Will Mae and Scott bother you if they’re both in the bed?”
“No, I’ll enjoy them snuggled close.” She gently coaxed Scott to stand up. “Go to my bed.”
“What about me?” Remy asked.
His mother chuckled. “Come see if you can finds a spot to curl up in.”
Ella helped her walk back to the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tend to things. If Samuel’s folks come to fetch him, he’ll leave. Or he might take the spare lantern and go on his own.”
Velma nodded and settled herself between Scott and Mae. Remy crawled up on the other side of Mae. “Ella, try to get some sleep,” she whispered. Her fingers caressed Scott’s forehead, and her blue-veined eyelids closed.
Carrie appeared at the side of the bed and gripped Ella’s hand. “I don’t wanna sleep in the loft by myself.”
“Try to get in here with us,” her mother whispered. “It’ll be cozy.”
“I don’t think the bed is big enough. Carrie, how about sleeping near me? I slept on the floor last night in case your mama needed me. Velma, I’ll check on Rosemary during the night.” Ella took up the rumpled covers and moved them to a spot along the wall. “Come over here.” She covered the girl with a quilt. “I’m goin’ to talk with Samuel until he leaves.”
Carrie nodded her head and rolled to her side. Her messy hair trailed about her face like brown mosquito net.
“Sleep tight.”
Ella sat on the flat stone hearth near Samuel and faced the flames. “Seems like all we do is put more wood on the fire.”
Samuel nodded, laid the poker aside, and brushed gray ashes off his hands. “Part of life.” He chose a short log and balanced it on top of the burning wood.
Each new piece of wood sent bright sparks drifting and flying up the stone chimney, like spring fireflies caught in a midnight breeze. The hour was lat
e. The room remained quiet, except for the snapping of the fire. For lengthy minutes, neither of them spoke, until she broke the comfortable silence.
“What do you reckon you should do?”
Before answering, he sat back from the fire’s warmth and folded his arms on top of raised knees. “I really don’t know what to do. I don’t know why Jim didn’t come hunting me—me being gone so long. I’m a little worried and puzzled.” He unexpectedly turned his head and fixed his easy-to-read eyes on her face. “Just the same, I’m glad I came. I think you needed time without a child in your arms.”
She considered his honesty. A wash of unexplainable bashfulness struck her. It was as if his words meant more than he actually said. She let a trembling breath slip past her lips before she continued the conversation.
“I’ll get the extra oil for the lantern if you wish to go.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye, unexpectedly hoping he’d stay. She’d felt melancholy and overwhelmed. His presence now brought comfort.
“I think I’ll stay.” He grabbed a charred stick and jabbed at the glowing logs, causing a shower of fiery embers to burst from the center of the stack. Logs rolled inward. “I’ll tell you something—if you don’t laugh at me.” His unusual eyes grew darker green in the dim light.
“Won’t laugh.”
“Well, I’m a mite afraid of going home on my own. There—I’ve said it.”
The powerful set of his jaw indicated he fully expected her to poke fun at him and mock his boyish fears. She nodded. She felt pleased he could trust her to be kind.
“I understand.”
“You’re not laughing at me? Inside—are you laughing inside?”
She was amused. “No. But you’re makin’ me feel like it ‘cause of the way you’re questioning me.”
“Whew.” With a pleasant grin, he faced her and sat cross-legged. “I was afraid you’d laugh me out of here. I’d have to wander that darkened trail by my lonesome, in the pitch black, worrying about a renegade wolf jumping me and killing my horse—and me.”
She giggled behind her hand and tossed her head. “You’re so silly.”
“I am?” His eyes lit with amusement.
The Girl Called Ella Dessa: Will she ever be cherished for the inner beauty beneath her scars? Page 25