Within the Candle's Glow (15 page)

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 slight-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.

#

Samuel circled the wagon up to the barn and dropped the reins.

Through the wide open doors, the sound of harsh sobbing plunged a pain deep in his chest. The children scrambled from the back of the wagon and entered the shadowy barn before he could stop them.

“Peggy, take them out of here!” He stepped into the cool interior and stopped short. Duncan hung over the top board of an empty stall, gripping it with his white-knuckled fingers, and sobbing in broken cries.

Stunned, Samuel didn’t know how to decipher what he saw. He had never seen Duncan cry as a child. He pushed Peggy and Phillip toward the barn door. He motioned to the white-faced girls, Anna and Josie.

“Go outside,” he murmured. He approached his red-haired brother. “Duncan?”

His brother choked back a sob. His beard was soaked with tears. “Papa.” He wiped a hand over his pale face and groaned. “He’s gone.”

“No!” Samuel turned and ran. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peggy throw her arms around Josie and Phillip, but Anna stood ramrod
straight.

His mother met him at the bedroom door. Her arms clasped his shaking body to her chest. “Son, it’s over. He’s at peace.” Her voice sounded unusually calm.

The floor tilted under him. He pulled away from her and stumbled to the bed. Jim was there, his face pressed into their papa’s open right hand.

“Papa?”

Jim muttered, “Brother, he’s gone.”

“No.” Samuel laid his hand on Papa’s chest. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Through a veil of tears, he saw the peaceful face. Gone were the deep lines of pain that had creased it.

“Samuel. Come here.”

He felt Jim’s arm come to rest along his quivering shoulders. He turned and clung to him. Though pain slashed his heart apart, he felt Peggy creep in and hug Jim’s waist. Their oldest brother stood strong and embraced them both. Never had Samuel’s world been so empty and destroyed.

E
lla moved past people clustered in Inez’s kitchen and slipped out to the covered dogtrot between the buildings. She paused at the top of the worn steps.

It was almost twilight, and the unusual heat of the day had cooled. The sky glowed with a blush of gold and pink. It feathered out along the visible tops of the rolling mountains. With a gasp of appreciation, she felt drawn to the gorgeous sight.

She made her way to the corral. Three workhorses occupied a rocky pasture and chewed at a pile of freshly cut grass. Behind her were eight or ten wagons, some with mules or horses still in their harnesses. Their outlines faded with the dusky light dipping between the mountains.

Attending Ephraim’s wake had brought back raw memories of her mama’s death.

She leaned against the top rail of a fence.
Lord, why must death be a part of life?

“Are you all right?” A familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

“Duncan?”

Jim’s brother stepped away from the door of the dark barn. His eyes were still the cool green she remembered from childhood. A full red beard concealed much of his lower face, and he was hatless. His wild
fiery hair hung long about his ears.

“I startled you.”

“No.” She tried to smile.

“That’s good to hear.” He smoothed the wooly texture of his hair.

“You weren’t inside.” She hadn’t seen him in years. He no longer resembled a slight-built teenage boy. Hefty muscles showed where his homespun shirt tightened on his upper body and arms.

Duncan rested his elbows on the top rail and stared at the shadowed horses milling around the feed. “I can’t bear the sad voices and repeated condolences. I’m sick of staring at Papa’s body and eating food at the same time. I felt I’d gag.”

“I hated that part of Mama’s wake.” Ella found it strange she’d actually grasp an instant connection to his private feelings.

He cleared his throat. “Years ago, I never said I was sorry for your suffering—at the time of your mother’s death.” He spoke without looking at her.

“No. You
didn’t
.” She raised her eyebrows and waited.

“Well, I’m sayin’ it now.” He laced his fingers together on top of the rail fence. “I’m clearing my conscience, asking for forgiveness. I was heartless.”

Her fingers tightened on the rough railing. “I still miss her.”

Beyond the fence, somewhere in the dusky edges of the field, a whip-poor-will sent out its signature call—its name. She knew the mottled-brown and elusive nighthawk would call during the first part of the evening and then go silent for the night. Ella loved its special call at dusk. But it would soon fly away and disappear for the winter.

On the porch, someone coughed. An arm hung a lantern, and the shadowed person went back inside.

Duncan bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Papa thought of you as part of our family.”

“I’ll miss him.”

He took a deep breath. “I will, too. But Jim doesn’t believe it.” The shadows of the coming night darkened his features.

“
Hmm
, ‘cause you’re gone from the homestead so much?” She saw his eyes skitter away. The lantern’s beam highlighted their muted green color.

“Yup.” He swatted at an invisible mosquito. “There seems to be no one who understands me. I’m
alone
. I muddle through life, and yes, I’m gone for a year or more at a time. But don’t
ever
think I forget my family.
I loved Papa. I’m glad I got back in time to talk to him before … before this. He was good. He stood by his strict beliefs.”

“He loved God.”

“
Hmm
. I chafed under his strictness, but it doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God. God created the uncharted wildernesses I travel through and places I get lost in—for months at a time. I feel close to God when I walk alone on a trail made by Indians or wild animals.” He paused. “Is that crazy?”

“Crazy?” She blinked and turned. His figure was a mere shadow in the fading light, but she could sense his proximity. “I su’pose I understand. If I were a man, I’d run away and see the world.”

“That true? Did Jim or Samuel tell you I went west—where mountains dwarf these?”

“No. I heard you were in the south, helpin’ with surveys.”

“Only one winter and spring with a surveying team. When the mosquitoes got bad, I scurried back to Georgia. I worked at a mine in Lumpkin County. I hated it and despised the greedy breed fighting for a piece of momentary wealth. The camp followers are skilled in fleecing the ragtag bunch of what gold is dug out of the mountains or panned in the creeks.”