Within the Candle's Glow

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “It’s slackening. We can soon open the door and shed some light in here.” He helped her down from the bench. “Step careful. The water made the clay slippery.” His hand guided her.

  “Jim, with the rainstorm hittin’ us, I didn’t thank you.” She found herself shaking and wished for a hot fire. “The headstone is beautiful.”

  “I hoped to surprise you.” Jim shoved open the door, and daylight fought to reach the dark corners of the cabin. He smiled down at her. Water dripped from curls in his hair.

  “Thank you. I never saw such a fine marker. Everyone who reads it will know Mama was loved.” Her breath rose in front of her face.

  “I’m glad I got to surprise you. Miles gave me lessons in script. The blacksmith made me a narrow chisel.” He glanced out at the wet forest and the dripping trees. “That storm was a forerunner. I bet we have snow by evening. Let’s take the wagon and supplies to my house. After we warm up, I’ll take you home.”

  “Poor horses,” she murmured. The two animals stood with their heads down, their wet hides darkened and shiny.

  He scooped her up in his arms and deposited her into the wagon.

  “My teeth won’t stop chatterin’!” With one hand, she grabbed the edge of the box seat and sat. She tightened her damp cloak about her upper body.

  “Hold on, we’re heading for a warm fire. Let me get my hat from the ground.”

  #

  Ella stood with her back to the fire. Her honey-blond hair reflected the fire’s dancing light. Unbound, it shimmered over her shoulders and cascaded to her hips.

  “Let me rub your hair one more time.” Jim’s mother approached and used a lightweight muslin towel. “Peggy, bring my brush. I’ll put Ella Dessa’s hair up.”

  “Plaited is fine,” Ella suggested. “No sense takin’ time with it.”

  Her tranquil blue eyes shut in contentment as his mother’s quick hands worked the remaining moisture from the long tresses and braided it. Jim turned and pretended to push their soaked boots closer to the fire, but, in reality, he fought to still the pounding in his chest. The trip up to Meara’s grave hadn’t gone as he hoped. The crazy weather literally dampened the moment at the gravesite.

  He cleared his throat and tried to speak normally. “As soon as Ella is dry, I’ll take her home.” Jim really wanted to spirit her away from the house before Samuel returned.

  Phillip crowded close to Ella and tugged on her hand. Jim saw her eyes come open, and a kindhearted smile lifted the corners of her generous mouth.

  “Phillip, what’s in your hand?”

  The boy lifted a paper-wrapped package and gave it to her.

  “It’s his gift to you. Open it.” Josie ran to watch. “He did it by himself.”

  Anna remained at the table, twirled a strand of her flaxen hair around one finger, and watched without any outward expression. It was hard to read the girl’s mind. Jim often wondered why his little sister acted out of the ordinary around Ella, but he had never questioned her.

  Perhaps, it wasn’t only Ella’s presence that made her silent. There were other times when Anna retreated into a world of her own. She sought solace in nature, but not with interaction among the family, and she was more aloof since their papa died.

  The wrapping parted. Ella lifted a large pinecone in her outstretched hand. Tucked into its gapped spaces were random items, plucked from the forest floor and trees. Gray deer moss, tiny pebbles, a brilliant bluebird feather, the fluff from a milkweed plant, and a reddish-brown crawfish’s claw.

  “Phillip, this is wonderful. You made this?”

  At her comment the boy’s eyes shone.

  He nodded and pointed at Josie and Peggy.

  “We helped him find things,” Peggy said. “But he chose the ones to use. His favorite is the claw.” She patted their brother’s shoulder. “He made it fit on the pinecone.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you, Phillip. I’ll place this in the store where everyone can see the gift you gave me.” She drew him close in a hug. Once more, she raised the pinecone and twirled it around. “I see half a bird’s egg, the cup of an acorn, a piece of a butterfly’s wing. Ah, what’s this?”

  Her facial expression changed.

  Jim caught a gleam in the fire’s light. Peggy and Josie crowded close.

  “What?” Josie asked. Her brown eyes widened. “How’d that get there? We didn’t do that. It looks like gold. Phillip—how?”

  Every head turned toward the pint-sized boy, and Jim stepped close to examine the cone. “Phillip, where’d this come from?”

  An anxious look shadowed the child’s pale face. He rubbed his left hand through his hair. With a shrug, his shoulders drew up around his neck.

  “Here,” Peggy shoved a slate into his hand. “Draw a picture. You’re not in trouble. We just want to know where you found it.”

  Phillip plopped down on the closest chair and chalked a drawing with flowing, artistic lines. He pointed at the slate, and everyone leaned in. He had outlined a creek with rocks and boulders along its sides. A bent tree leaned over it.

  “I know where that’s at,” Jim exclaimed. “We’ve used it as a swimming hole in the summer! Phillip, that’s gold.”

  Josie nodded. “I know when he found it. I hiked with him and Samuel down there last week. Phillip, you didn’t say nothin’ to us. Why?” Her finger poked at the gold piece nestled within a tiny clump of moss wedged into the pinecone. “You’re sneaky.”

  Their mother patted his head. “He knew better than to let everyone know. One of you would’ve claimed it. Phillip, I’m proud of you for giving it to Ella Dessa for her birthday.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jim. “I’m sure your older brothers will now widen and deepen the old swimming hole. Won’t that be nice?”

  Phillip grinned and showed the gap where he had lost another front tooth.

  “Phillip, thank you.” Ella knelt beside him. Her skirt crumpled on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “You know how to give a priceless gift.” Over the boy’s head, her beautiful eyes met Jim’s.

  He smiled at her and nodded. He realized her words, spoken to Phillip, also reflected her thoughts about the carved gravestone up on the abandoned ridge.

  “Anyone hungry?” Their mother reached for her apron and tied it about her waist and neck. “I‘ll soon have it done. I’m making sawmill gravy.”

  “I’m starved,” Jim said.

  Inez nodded. “I suspected you’d bring Ella Dessa up here today, so I made her favorite—pumpkin bread. Phillip, slip into your coat and go feed the chickens. It’s not raining.”

  Ella stood with the pinecone in one hand and brushed her skirt into place with the other hand. “Let me help you prepare the meal?”

  “No, you must sit and visit.” She pointed. “Take that rocker. Samuel should be returning shortly. He knows I baked bread for you.”

  Jim edged close to his mother. He whispered, “Maybe Sam’ll get lost today or slide off the mountain.”

  “Jim!” Using her knuckles, she rapped the top of his head. “Go visit with our guest, unless you want to do the cooking.”

  With a pronounced sigh, he shook his head. “I think I’ll go put up the horses.” Peggy and Josie had already crowded around Ella. “Mother, call me when it’s time to eat.”

  #

  Peggy sat on the floor and leaned against the side of the large rocker. “Ella Dessa, what’s it like to be seventeen? Do you feel grown up?”

  Ella kept the pinecone in her lap and smiled at the sincere question from the fifteen-year-old. “Not much diff’rent than your age. I su’pose I feel like I’m grown.”

  “You are,” Josie said. She sat on the floor near Ella’s feet and wrapped her arms around her skirted knees. “I’m eleven.”

  “We’re all gettin’ older,” Ella replied. “So is Anna.” She noticed the quiet girl drop her head and hide her blue eyes. “Anna, how old are you?”

 
“She’s thirteen,” Peggy answered. “Remember, she doesn’t like to talk to people—only animals.”

  “That’s all right.” Ella wanted to tell Peggy she shouldn’t answer for her younger sister, but decided against it. Anna had always acted out of the ordinary.

  Josie tapped Ella’s knee. “Samuel saw a mountain lion prowling the bluffs yesterday. He said it was stalkin’ something. He was happy it weren’t him.” Her curious eyes traced the few exposed scars on Ella’s neck. “How long’s the scratch on your neck?”

  “Josie!” Peggy hissed.

  Ella was stunned. She covered her neck with her right hand. “Ahh, it’s—” A movement near the table caught her attention.

  Anna knocked over the bench and stormed to the kitchen door. She cast a withering look at them and said, “Animals have a right to hunt whatever they want.”

  Inez threw down a wooden spoon and followed Anna outside. “You come here!” Cold air swirled in and blanketed the room. The flames in the fireplace fluttered sideways.

  Ella swallowed and met Peggy’s dismayed eyes. She switched her attention to Josie. The girl had buried her face in her hands. Her narrow shoulders shook with silent sobs. Compassion overrode her immediate hurt and anger. She placed a hand on Josie’s soft-brown hair and smoothed the curls.

  “Josie? You did no harm with what you said. Look at me. Let me show you ‘fore Samuel or Jim come in. Quick.” She tugged on the girl’s tear-dampened hands. “Please.”

  “Ella, I’m sure Anna didn’t think about what she said.” Peggy also had tears on her face.

  “I’m—I’m so—sorry!” Josie’s flat chest shook with sobs. “I just never saw—all the marks.”

  “I know.” Ella forced a smile to her stiff lips. “It’s like a secret, eh?”

  The girl nodded and blinked away tears.

  “Well, Granny Hanks told me the painter’s—panther’s claws didn’t git a chance to dig in. It knocked me into the creek. I like to have drowned. You see … the cat was starvin’—might’ve lost its mama. It thought I was small ‘nough to eat.” She smiled at the reflection of horror in their wide-open eyes.

  “It must’ve hurt.” Peggy shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “It did. It scraped me, diggin’ up the skin. Granny said fever ate my skin. She thought I’d die.” She hesitated and then said, “Let me show you what’s hidden.”

  Ella clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and undid six wooden buttons on her blouse. Before she could change her mind, she jerked the material open and down, revealing her chemise and ravaged skin. She saw Josie’s and Peggy’s faces turn pale. She realized what they fully beheld.

  Bumpy, discolored lines extended from the top of her left shoulder, looped up on her neck, down across her collarbone, and over the upper swell of her left breast. The raised lines ended near her breastbone.

  Peggy’s passionate brown eyes locked with hers. “I hate mountain lions and wildcats!” Her tone was brittle.

  Josie fell on her knees and buried her face in Ella’s lap. Her curls blanketed her back, while her arms hugged Ella’s waist. “Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothin’ to forgive, Josie. I should’ve offered to show you girls years ago. I didn’t want to horrify you. Am I hard to peer at?” She tugged at Josie’s arms and unlocked them from her waist. “Tell me or I shall never have hope that a husband can abide my scars.”

  “Ella Dessa, the scars are long, but not as bad as I thought,” the girl mumbled. “I’m ashamed.” She rubbed her blotchy face and sniffled. “I don’t usually do bad things.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Peggy lifted her skirt hem and dried her own face. “She’s the good one.”

  “I suppose you’re the bad one, right?”

  “How’d you know?” Peggy ruefully slapped Ella’s knee. “You know me too well.”

  “Hmm, it’s those reddish-brown curls that give you away.” Ella smiled.

  The door opened, and Jim stomped in. “Why is Mother out on the porch switching Anna? Mother never does that type of … punishment.”

  Ella saw his eyes lock on her ravaged shoulder, neck, and the expanse of exposed skin above her breast and chemise. Her fingers struggled with the tiny buttons and the revealing gap in her blouse.

  His shocked expression showed how he felt. He grabbed a heavy coat off a wall peg and left before she managed to fasten the last button.

  Her chest refused to move with the breath she fought to draw in. “Oh! Well … I guess he got the shock of his life.” Pressing a hand against her lips, she tried not to cry.

  Peggy patted her knee. “I’m sorry.”

  “This day’s been … full of surprises.” Ella tried to laugh. She stood and clasped the pinecone tight in her right hand. “Jim showed me the fine-lookin’ gravestone he made for my mama. Phillip gave me a special gift.” She patted the neckline of her blouse. “Poor Anna got a switchin’ ‘cause of me. An’ Jim got an eyeful.” A sob escaped her lips. “I think I must go home.”

  Peggy and Josie jumped up. “No, don’t go,” they both pleaded. “Don’t cry!”

  “I feel so awful Anna got switched. She’ll hate me forever.” With a sudden flash of anger, she swiped at her tear-dampened face and faced the door. “I’m goin’ home.”

  The door opened. Inez led a red-faced Anna into the kitchen. A bitter thrust of wind whirled in around them. “There she is. Do as I said.”

  The girl’s pale lips tightened into a straight line, and her jaw jutted forward. “I must apolo—gize for my hurtful words.”

  Ella held back unforgiving things she longed to yell. Instead, she reached for the girl’s cool hand. “I think … I understand. Yes, the painter—mountain lion were most likely hungry. I seemed like food. Do you think my death would’ve been the right thing to happen?”

  Peggy murmured a cry of protest, and Anna’s head bowed.

  “No,” the light-haired girl whispered. “I was wrong to speak that way.”

  “I know God wanted me to live. That’s why the cat failed. There must be a reason in all of it.” With the back of her hand, Ella dried her face.

  “Forgive me.”

  “I do.”

  With a soft sob, Anna fled for the door.

  Ella faced Inez. She felt sick to her stomach, and the weight of adult reasoning settled in her mind. “Inez, I know why you whupped her. I wish I might take it back. Now, I feel to blame for Anna’s anguish. Would it be possible for me to beg forgiveness for not stayin’ for the meal? I must go home.”

  “Ahh, honey, this shouldn’t have happened.” Inez wrapped her arms around Ella and pulled her close. “I understand. What you need to realize—is Anna hurts many people with her heartless words. I’ve gone easy on her, since Ephraim died, hoping she’d see the error of her ways. Today was the last straw. It is not your fault or of your doing that she was licked. A switch don’t break the skin or break the spirit of a child, but it breaks the determination to heap wrong on others. Anna must learn people have feelings—just as animals do.”

  Ella nodded and reached for her cloak. “I’ll go find Jim. May we visit another time?”

  “Yes, yes,” Inez murmured. She touched Ella’s cheek. “Soon.”

  Peggy and Josie ran to receive a hug before Ella slipped outside. She went down the wet steps and spied Jim stacking wood near the barn. Reluctantly, she angled his direction. The cold air cut her lungs with every breath.

  “Jim?”

  He turned. “You’ll freeze out here in the wind.” A troubled expression clouded his cold gray eyes. His gaze flitted away. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I walked in on you. I had no idea—”

  Heat rushed to her face. The wind bit into her body. “My fault. I should’ve thought before I—” She shivered and dropped her head.

  “I didn’t know it was … so …” He clenched cold-reddened fists at his side. “I’m sick about what you’ve suffered.”

  She moved closer to the barn and leaned agains
t it to stop the trembling in her legs. “I hate to be reminded.” Why did he have to walk in at that moment?

  “I understand.”

  “Jim? Will you take me home?” She pulled at her cloak and wished for a shawl to wrap around her head.

  He nodded and avoided her eyes. “Let me bring up one of the horses. Do you mind riding double?”

  “No.” Her thoughts went back to Duncan taking her home. Was she destined to ride up and down with one brother or another for the rest of her life? No—things have changed. Jim won’t ever want to be near me. He’s sickened by what he saw.

  She waited against the protection of the barn wall and beheld her breath rise in a misty cloud. Jim returned with his black horse and a coat. Without an exchange of words, he mounted and crammed the hat on his head. She stepped up on a wooden crate. Jim reached to help her up behind him. She tugged her skirt over her legs and clasped her arms about his waist.

  “Hold tight,” he muttered and nudged the horse’s sides. The black animal trotted forward. “You warm?”

  She didn’t bother to answer him. Hot tears stung her icy cheeks. She considered leaning her face against his back and pretending he could someday love her. Reality told her the possibility died. She had observed the disgust on his face.

  “It’s sleeting.” Jim yelled the terse words over his shoulder as the wind hit them. “I’m sorry …” The sound of his voice joined the swooshing of wind in the bare trees. The horse jerked and fought the bit. Reluctance showed in its nervous, brown eyes.

  The wind blew Ella’s braid sideways, and the end slapped like a miniature whip. Fine, needle-like ice pricked her cheeks, neck, and ears. With a gasp, she buried her face into Jim’s coat and longed for a fire’s warmth.

  “I’m taking the path through the woods,” Jim hollered. “There’ll be more protection from the wind and sleet.”