Within the Candle's Glow

by Karen Campbell Prough

  The gentle wind ruffled the dark curls on his bowed head, and he had rolled his sleeves above his elbows. The two baskets of berries lay abandoned. His hat, backpack, and sketchbook rested in the grass—heedlessly tossed aside. The pages in the sketchbook caught the wind, rattled, and turned. A fluttering orange butterfly dipped near his head, spiraling in lazy circles.

  The sun had neared the mountaintops. Darkness would soon creep into the ravines. Deer ran up from the old chicken coop, his tongue hanging from his open mouth. He swerved sideways and stopped to lap cold water from the low flowing spring, which still ran under the sagging building. With his nose, he snuffled through the leaves and up to the side of the springhouse.

  His sharp yelp indicated he saw her through the cracks, between the shadowed logs.

  With a groan of reluctance, Ella turned and crawled through the low doorway. She stood with stiffness and shook her creased, muddied skirt down about her damp boots. Deer jumped and smeared more wet prints on her skirt, before running off with his nose to the ground.

  The man sensed her approach and raised his head. His eyelids appeared swollen and reddened.

  “Ella Dessa.” He extended a trembling hand. “Meara Finley’s daughter?”

  While grasping his cool hand, she sank to her knees at his side. Miles had used her mama’s maiden name, which wasn’t on the cross. She didn’t answer him. She had no more tears to cry. She stared into the distraught face of the man who was her father—flesh and blood. Her heart ached as much as her head throbbed.

  Does he guess the full extent of my secret?

  He cleared his throat and tightened his grip.

  “Ella, I saw her first name on the weathered cross. We have to talk. My mind’s spinning. I need you to help me understand. If you can. I once knew a girl named Meara. You look just like her, and it’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Go ahead, talk.” She slipped her hand from his grip and settled in the fragrant grass. With care, she arranged the sullied skirt about her legs and locked her eyes on the tilted grave marker. The pine branches swayed up and down, as if giving the okay to the coming revelation. She silently pleaded with God to help her understand. Then she let her eyes drift back to Miles.

  He kept his voice steady. “The first time I saw you, three years ago at Konrad’s wedding, your face was a ghost from my past. Your features were Meara’s. I wondered—can there be two people so much alike?” His face and lips twisted as if he bore physical pain. He pulled a handful of grass from the ground. The dirt from the roots fell to his pants leg, before he flung the grass away.

  Ella hung her head and clasped her filthy hands in her lap. The puppy came back and flopped flat on his side near Miles’s left knee. The tall grass almost hid his tan body.

  Miles gained enough control to continue. “I wanted to stare at you, beg to know where you came from, and ask who was your mother. But I kept quiet.”

  “How’d you meet this Meara you speak of?”

  “It was at a church meeting near Richmond. I walked through the door, seeking fellowship with others of my faith. She sat beside her mother and turned to look at me with heavenly blue eyes. At that moment, my heart was hers.” He laced and unlaced his fingers while he talked. “I went to every meeting held. I soon knew her feelings for me were just as strong.”

  “She said you worked a mine in North Carolina.”

  “She told you?” His troubled eyes lifted, and all doubt fled from them. “What else did she say?”

  She ignored his question. “What happened between you?”

  He swallowed and closed his eyes. “I was a teacher, but got pulled into mining by some friends eager for gold and wealth. I hated it.” His dark eyes opened to stare at the grave. “I told God I wanted Meara as my wife. I had majestic plans for our life. Her father thought I’d leave her and follow the scent of gold. He wouldn’t listen when I told him I was a teacher. He threatened me—told me to stay away.”

  “You wrote to her?”

  “I did.” He snatched another handful of grass from the ground and threw it to the side, a touch of anger manifesting itself in his movements. “I asked for her hand in marriage. Her father wouldn’t hear of it. He hid her from me when I went to North Carolina to fulfill my agreement of labor at a gold mine. I needed the money for our future.” His square jaw clenched. He visibly fought for self-control. “I couldn’t find her. I knew she loved me, but I couldn’t find her.”

  Slowly, Ella extended her hand and touched his bare arm. The muscles in it knotted under her fingers.

  “Tell me the truth,” he whispered. “She spoke of me? That’s how you know of me?”

  “Yes, many times, when we were alone.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve read your letter, over an’ over. I know you meant to marry her.”

  He covered his face with his hands and wept. “Yes, yes! I know she wanted me as her husband. If it had been in her control—”

  A surge of compassion caused Ella to lean her head on his heaving shoulder and bury her face there. Tears coursed down her cheeks. For the first time in her life, she realized another person wept for her mama with the same deep grief she bore in her heart. The woman Miles loved and lost—had died. She was gone forever. No words would be exchanged to heal the past.

  With her lips barely moving, Ella recited, from memory, the last words of his letter to her mama. “The scent of the roses will not surpass the way you take my breath away. I will go back to teaching, and you will lovingly nurture our children.” She tucked her arm through his and clung tighter. “She did as you wished. She lovingly nurtured me. For, I believe, I’m your daughter.”

  There. She had said it.

  Ella looked up to see his reaction.

  “My daughter?” He brushed her hand off his arm.

  “Yes, yours. Not Jacob Huskey’s. He’s the man who left me an’ went away after Mama’s death.”

  “How can you be my child?”

  “Are you tellin’ me … it’s not possible?” Her face flushed hot at the unmentionable subject she now brought forth. She eased away from him and placed trembling hands on her cheeks. Ella regretted the shameful thing she had asked him.

  She wanted to run and hide.

  Miles rubbed his hands over his jaw, and his tear-reddened eyes searched the contours of her face. “Did she say I was your father?”

  “No. She may have thought it best I not know.”

  “Then …”

  “It’s written in her Bible.”

  “What is?”

  “My full name, Ella Dessa … Kilbride. I were born too early by the date of her marriage to him.” She swallowed the bile in her throat.

  “No.” He went pale. “She was to have a child, and they still took her away from me?” His stricken expression said it all. “Oh God, no.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “It was a mistake … the sin I committed. One time together!”

  She feverishly plucked at the grass and broke pieces, only to toss them aside. So, now I know for sure.

  “It was my fault. She was captivating. It was as if she was already mine in God’s eyes. I enclosed her in my arms. I’m to blame.” He slammed his open hand against his chest and gave an animal-like moan. “Oh, Meara, forgive me!”

  Ella tried not to cry. “They forced her to marry him. Gave—paid Jacob this property to do so.” She waved her hand at the narrow sweep of slanted, stony soil and the rotting cabin.

  “How awful,” he groaned.

  “She didn’t love him.”

  His reddened eyes traveled over her face. Then he said, “My child? My own daughter? You … you must hate me.”

  “No. I cain’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want Mama’s memory darkened by what others will think.” She closed her eyes and fought for inner control.

  “Ella Dessa …”

  She held up her hand for silence and faced him.

  “Mama was good an’ loved God. She told me how much love you had for each other. I didn
’t know the whole truth. It’s a secret she kept from my … from Jacob Huskey. She gave me a box you carved for her. Your letter’s in it. I think she wanted me to know, but never dreamed I’d meet you.”

  What sounded like a prayer passed his lips. “Oh, Heavenly Father, thank you.” His fingers lifted her hand. “Help me, God.” Miles breathed deep and almost whispered, “I must now tell Leona the truth.”

  Leona’s scars flashed before Ella’s mind. “Won’t it hurt her?”

  “Dishonesty and hiding things will hurt her more. I do love Leona.”

  She bowed her head. “Then us three will keep the secret?”

  Miles nodded. “I’m glad Meara gave you the carved box.”

  “It’s special. The rose is so real.”

  His expression changed. “Will roses grow near her grave?”

  “Yes, if you put ‘em in the sun.”

  “Then I will somehow find some. I promised her roses.” He wiped at his eyes with one thumb.

  “I’ve got the bone hairpins.” She referred to six pins nestled in the wooden box.

  A smile lifted the sad lines of his face. “She kept them?”

  “She cherished ‘em. I wear them at times.” She turned away from his haggard expression. “The gold’s gone. My pa—Jacob Huskey stole it in payment for givin’ me a name, even though Mama left a note sayin’ it were yours and should be mine.”

  “So Jacob Huskey is also a thief.”

  “Yes.”

  “But he’s no kin to you.”

  “I ain’t—I’m not his daughter.”

  “You’re the mirror of Meara.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “I’m glad. Mama said you loved her like the love spoken of in the Bible, which Solomon wrote of. She called it real love.”

  He nodded.

  “Jacob beat her ‘cause there were no boy child for ‘im. She took the beatin’s for me.”

  Miles bounded to his feet, hands clenched. “If I ever meet this—this monster Jacob Huskey—I won’t be able to control these hands!” He spread his fingers in front of his face, and they shook. “I’ll kill him.”

  “He’s gone. Done remarried and left—years ago.”

  “Where are her parents?” His brown eyes deepened in color. “I want to face the sick, selfish man who gave my tender Meara to a monster—”

  “He’s dead, drowned before I were born. Both of ‘em.”

  “Judgment dealt.” He shook his head and ran his hands up through his hair, as if trying to clear away hatred he didn’t want to feel. “I’ve got to forgive.” His voice quivered with elevated emotion. “God help me to forgive.”

  She wiped at her eyes. “Jacob didn’t have Mama’s love.”

  “Ella Dessa. I need—to spend time talking to your mother.” He hesitated. “I’ve got to ask her forgiveness.”

  His words sounded as if her mama waited for him in person.

  “There’s no need for that. She knows. I feel it,” she whispered, touching her own chest. “In here.”

  He shook his head. “No, it must be said aloud to her.”

  With slumped shoulders, Miles trudged up the slope. Ella’s heart ached for him and for what was lost between the three of them. Time couldn’t be reclaimed or changed.

  There lay the agony of it all.

  Chapter 8

  Sunday, August 23, 1840

  Samuel sat with Phillip, sandwiched between him and Anna. The hard, splintered bench kept him from sleeping during the Sunday service. His eyes strayed across the aisle where Ella Dessa sat with Remy and Rosemary.

  His mother insisted he and the younger children attend church. She stayed with their papa and kept Duncan and Jim with her. Reluctant to leave Papa’s side, he had only visualized one bright spot in the trip down to the cove—he’d see Ella Dessa.

  In his mind, he let himself drift out of the log church and back to the blueberry patch. The sunlight had brightened Ella Dessa’s hair as she picked berries. His lips had touched the uneven texture of scars on her neck and then the soft yielding of her lips as he kissed her. He closed his eyes, savoring the unforgotten moment.

  An elbow punched his ribs. He glared down into the round disapproval of Anna’s dark blue eyes.

  “What?”

  “Stay awake!” she hissed between her teeth. “Stop Phillip from wiggling.”

  “Shhh!” He tucked his right arm around the six-year-old boy.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Ella Dessa glance their way. He winked at her. A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth. He fidgeted and wished Leigh Chesley would end the service. He wanted to talk to Ella, but Samuel’s attention swung back to the preacher when he heard his papa’s name.

  “We must earnestly pray for Ephraim. Before the service, Samuel told me his father was not able to rise from bed this morning. He’s weaker and not speaking. Please, lift your hands if you’re willing to join the family in prayer.” He glanced around the room and nodded. “Also, Abe Hanks needs someone to take him home after the service, so Granny can go check on Ephraim.”

  The anxiety in Samuel’s chest mushroomed. He grew aware of Phillip’s hand patting his leg. He gazed into the luminous questions exposed in the child’s big green eyes.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered. The boy immediately burrowed his face tight against Samuel’s shoulder.

  The preacher ended the service with a prayer. As hardy “amens” echoed through the log building, Samuel dragged his little brother down the aisle. He wanted to get outside so he didn’t have to answer questions. Beside a huge pine, at the corner of the building, he and Phillip kicked at the dust and waited for their sisters.

  Ella Dessa approached with Rosemary in tow. The tiny girl looked at Phillip with a shy smile and wiggled her fingers at him. His thin face lit up, and he waved back.

  “I’m sorry your papa’s worse.” Ella Dessa’s compassionate blue eyes searched his face. “Are you worried?”

  “Yes. It’s hard watching Papa lay there with his eyes shut. He looks so … old and thin. He hasn’t eaten all week. Granny says something’s blockin’ blood in his leg.”

  “I hate feelin’ helpless.” She gripped his hand and squeezed.

  He stared at her hand and returned the familiar pressure of her warm fingers. “I guess there’s nothing to do but pray. Mother prayed all night. I heard her.”

  “With Duncan back home, you’ve plenty of help ‘round there.”

  “Yeah.” He heard Rosemary’s childish chatter and observed Phillip’s widening smile. “Duncan’s getting on Jim’s nerves. He’s talking about places he’s been. Jim tells him to think about what needs to be done at the homestead. They’re buttin’ heads, as usual.”

  “I’m sorry—for them.” She pulled her hand away and smoothed her hair, which she wore in a coil on the back of her head.

  “They’re each stubborn.” He studied her face. He wasn’t sure he cared for Ella Dessa’s hair pulled up and secured with hairpins. He wanted it loose about her shoulders and back.

  Seemingly discomforted by his scrutiny, she turned her attention to the little children. “Rosemary, stay nearby.”

  “Too bad my big brothers aren’t nice like those two.”

  Rosemary swung Phillip’s hand. Her high-pitched words drifted back to them.

  “Your big brother’s talkin’ to Ella. Do you want to play hide an’ seek?”

  When Samuel saw the boy nod, he called to him, “Phillip, don’t stray far.”

  “We won’t,” Rosemary said and tugged on the boy’s hand. “Phillip, can you say, ‘Ella’? Say it like this, El … la.”

  Ella Dessa smiled. “I’m thinkin’ Jim and Duncan will never see eye to eye.”

  “That’s true.” He longed to copy Rosemary’s innocent actions. He wanted to casually reach out and take Ella Dessa’s hand. But the days of their innocent handholding had vanished.

  Rosemary dropped Phillip’s hand and dashed back. “He said it,” she gasped and pointed at the sl
ight-built boy. “He can talk.”

  “What?” Samuel frowned.

  “He said, ‘Ella.’” Rosemary stared up at them. Her big grin showed a gap where she had lost a front tooth. She beckoned to Phillip. “Come show ‘em.”

  “Honey, I don’t think so,” Samuel replied. “Phillip doesn’t talk like we do. Sometimes he mumbles.”

  Rosemary’s bottom lip poked out, and her brow plowed into furrows. “He does, too. You ain’t believin’ me.” Whirling, she ran back to Phillip and wrapped her arm over his shoulders. “Come on, we’re goin’ for a walk. They don’t believe us.”

  Ella Dessa nudged his arm. “Rosemary’s a good talker. If anyone can see that Phillip talks—she can.”

  “Hmm. They’ve grown close this past year.”

  Peggy came running around the corner of the church, her skirt tangling about her legs. “There you are!” She grabbed Ella Dessa’s neck and hugged her. “I love you.” She frowned at her brother. “I went to give baby Emma a kiss, turned around, and you were gone.”

  “I came outside to wait.”

  “Dear brother, Katy Stuart’s searching for you.” Peggy giggled. “Her mother told our big sister how much Katy likes you.”

  “When are you two redheads going to grow up?” He edged further around the corner of the log church. He had spent the last four years avoiding the younger girl. “Laura Stuart needs to tell her daughter to get lost.”

  Peggy gasped. “You’re lucky I’m not telling Katy what you just said.”

  “Why?”

  Ella Dessa waved her hands at the two of them and backed away. “There’s Velma. We’re leavin’. Rosemary, come on. Your mama’s headin’ for the new wagon.”

  “Did Velma spend some gold on the wagon?” Peggy craned her neck to see. “Oh, she did.”

  “Yes, the old wagon was rotted.”

  Rosemary skipped over to Ella Dessa and yelled to Phillip, “You keep talkin’.”

  “Go find Josie and Anna.” Samuel gave Peggy an irritated push. “Don’t delay. I want to get home and see about Papa.” He motioned to Phillip and headed for their own wagon, but he watched Ella Dessa walk across the grassy field. The wind tangled her skirt about her legs, and it tugged strands of her blond hair from the slender hairpins securing it.