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

by Karen Campbell Prough

  She heard a quivering intake of breath.

  A high-pitched whine of fear forced itself between the girl’s dead-white lips. “I don’t like layin’ in the fodder.” Her legs slowed. Their movement became lessened.

  “Please, let me help you down.” She stepped closer, almost directly under the girl. “Please?” At least, she’d be there to break the girl’s fall.

  Carrie’s dirty feet dangled above her head, but too far away to touch.

  “It hurts so—so much. I don’t—like it.” The girl’s shadowed face took on a dazed expression.

  An icy chill crept up Ella’s backbone. “Honey, let’s go inside by the fire.” The back of her neck cramped from gazing upward. “Come, get your dolly. She needs her shift.”

  “Shift comes off—musn’t soil it. Must put your shift out of the way. Do it now!” The little girl’s voice grew angry. “Take it off, I said! Got to stay clean.” She whimpered and covered her face. “My baby doll fell an’ hit herself. She might be dead.”

  “Stay still. Hang on. Carrie, I hear the doll cryin’. She’s right here.” With cautious movements, she inched toward the cloth doll and grabbed it from the dirt floor. “Can you see her? She’s fine, but she’s afeerd of the dark. Your baby needs your hugs.”

  Ella clutched the doll to her heaving chest and waited as thick minutes ticked by.

  Where’s Velma? Why isn’t she here?

  Carrie’s outline on top of the beam blended with the deepening gloom. Only the light color of her shift showed. Another owl called from a tree, somewhere on the sharp, rocky ridge. Its lonely call drifted through the cracks of the dilapidated log walls.

  “Carrie, look down at me.”

  “No, no. I don’t want to! I want Mama to help me.” Carrie’s cries sounded bewildered and forlorn. They tore at Ella’s heart.

  Unable to stand still any longer, she tossed the doll aside and reached for the rungs. She scrambled to the top and gripped the beam with sweaty hands, and stared the length of it. She tried to make out the girl’s figure in the shadows.

  “This way, Carrie. Move towards my voice. Scoot on your bottom. I’m right here.”

  “I can’t,” the girl wailed. “I don’t see you.”

  “Ella? Carrie?” The glow from a lantern bobbed and bounced along the filthy straw-strewn floor and irregular walls. Velma lifted the light over her head. “Oh, God help us.”

  “Shh, she’s scared, is all. Carrie, you can see now. Come this way.” Ella held out her hand and gestured. “We need to get in by the fire. It’s warm inside.”

  Carrie hiccupped with her sobs, but her skinny thighs moved sideways. She slid and wiggled toward the ladder. When she came within reach, Ella saw she trembled all over.

  “That’s it.” She grasped Carrie’s left wrist. “A little more. Turn. Put your foot on the rung.” She stepped down one rung and steadied Carrie. The girl turned and reached the second rung.

  “I’m skeered.”

  Ella gripped the rickety ladder by wrapping one arm around it. She used her free hand to guide the girl’s bare feet to the short sapling rungs. “Down one more step. We’re almost there.”

  With each step, she heard fervent, whispered prayers behind her. When they touched the dirt floor, she sent a pleading look over her shoulder. Velma placed the lantern on the floor and ran to grasp Carrie in her arms.

  “Why? Child, why?” The woman pushed aside the girl’s untidy hair and repeated the question. “Why? Tell me.”

  Carrie shoved one fist against her open mouth and hiccupped as she whispered, “You’re gettin’ a new baby ‘cause I’m bad.”

  “No, no, that’s not true.” Velma hugged her close. “I love you. This baby won’t take your place, no more than Rosemary did. I love all my babies. Don’t you knows that?”

  The girl’s hands gripped her mama’s shoulders. Harsh sobs of fear burst from her throat.

  “Pappy told me if—if you find out—if you knows I’m—I’m bad, you’ll get rid of me.” Her face twisted and scrunched in disturbing distress. “He told me I’m bad.”

  “No, never. Never. He’s wrong—so wrong.”

  Carrie pillowed her head on Velma’s shoulder and continued to sob, but with less intensity.

  “Velma?” Ella wiped tears off her own face and picked up the light. The lantern shook in her hands. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.

  Once they got inside, Ella started a simple meal. Velma cuddled the weeping girl in her lap and rocked. Rosemary also wanted to snuggle, but her mother told her it was Carrie’s turn to use the rocker. Without protest, the two-year-old played with Carrie’s cloth doll and sat close to her mother’s feet, so close—she was in danger of the rocker pinching her.

  Ella’s hands shook as she prepared porridge and a large slice of ham.

  Mae hung nearby, pestering her. The boys amused themselves by stacking the wooden blocks to see whose tower could reach the highest. Scott typically won because he was taller. But Remy pushed a bench over to where they played, stood on it, and managed to beat his big brother.

  Mae cheered Remy on with his endeavors.

  “I win!” The little boy had spunk and gained an advantage over his big brother.

  “So what? Ya beat me.” Scott flailed his arms and toppled his own stack of blocks. He made a mock bow to Remy. “There, now ya happy? Besides, you cheated.”

  Their mother stopped humming to Carrie and glared at her oldest son. The battered rocker creaked and the runners protested the movement. “Scott, that ain’t no way to talk.” Her left hand stroked her daughter’s pale face, but the girl’s eyes remained shut.

  Sighing, Scott dropped down in front of the fireplace and said, “I hope Pappy brings lots of gold home. I want a gun fer my birthday.”

  “Don’t count on gold, son. Besides, we haves a gun. Pappy only took his new one.”

  “It’s old an’ too heavy for me.” His stormy eyes strayed to the wall above the narrow mantel. The forbidden gun hung there. “You won’t let me touch it.”

  “When you’re older.” Her lips rested against Carrie’s bowed head. “Now hush about it.”

  Ella spooned porridge into bowls and onto tin plates. Carefully, she divided the slab of ham. She gave everyone an equal piece. But she knew the little ones would only take a bite or two and then offer it to an older sibling.

  “Scott, when’s your birthday?”

  “October fifteenth.”

  “Oh, that’s comin’ soon. We must have a party.”

  Scott stared, as if not believing her. “We must?”

  “Yes. Other people have parties. Why can’t we?”

  “But how do we do it?” His freckles emphasized the innocence of his reply.

  “Ahh, we can make special things. Don’t worry. Let me plan.” She felt a surge of sympathy for the boy and winked at his mother. “What do you think?”

  “Ella Dessa, I think you’re sweeter than honey.” A tear ran over her sunken cheek. “Please, go aheads an’ eat. I think I’ll rock a short whiles longer.”

  *******

  A while later, after all the children had eaten and crawled into bed, Velma sat in the rocker by the fire.

  “Carrie scares me,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it was awful.” Ella sat nearby on the rough floor.

  “She’s acted strangely for the year. I’ve hoped an’ prayed, but I think she lives in a different world from us.” She sniffled and wiped at her nose. “Gust ain’t patient with her. He’d just as soon slap her, than remove her from harm or danger. She hurts herself.”

  “Hmm.” Ella didn’t reply at once. She instinctively knew Velma didn’t expect an answer to be forthcoming. “She really didn’t want to fall.”

  “Then why’d she do that foolhardy thing?”

  “I think she’s pushed by what’s in her head.” She squinted at the fire and tried to think of the right words. “Somethin’ tells her to do things. She does them, but she ain’t wantin’ to. We d
on’t hear no one talking. But she does.”

  “Seems that way.” The woman rubbed her rounded belly, which stretched the thin dress material. She kept her head down. A pensive expression shadowed her narrow face. “Carrie was Scott’s age when Rosemary was born. There were no worries then. But now, with this baby, I don’t know. I’m fearful of what my oldest child might do. She’s gettin’ worse, more so since Gust left us, like she’s on pins an’ needles.”

  “I’ll be happy to watch out for the baby.” Ella felt sorry for the lonely woman and laid a hand on her thin arm. “Carrie won’t hurt the baby with both of us here.”

  Velma patted her hand. “Oh, you’re a sweet one.”

  “Hmm, don’t know ‘bout that.” She hugged her bent legs. The flames in the fireplace crackled and popped with a life of their own. She felt the heat on her hands and face, and the warmth reached through her skirt to her legs and stocking feet.

  “Thanks for what you said to Scottie. We’ll think of a gift for him. When’s your birthday?”

  “Mine?” She was surprised at the question. “I’ll be thirteen on the fifth day of November.”

  “Ah, close to Samuel McKnapp’s age. He’s already thirteen.”

  “His big brother is much older.” She shifted her eyes sideways toward Velma, tempted to tell the woman how thoughts of Jim filled her mind all the time.

  “Much older.” She unexpectedly tapped Ella’s shoulder and raised her eyebrows into twin peaks. The fire’s glow reflected off her sharp cheekbones. “Child, what’s that I sees in your face?”

  Ella dropped her head and knew she blushed. “You said we’d have a woman to woman talk.”

  “Well, for goodness sakes! I didn’t reckon you’d confess you are hankerin’ after Jim McKnapp.”

  “But, I ain’t—I haven’t.”

  The woman chuckled. “I see. An’ I said I’d fix an apple crumble for us women. Will you forgive me, if’n I don’t? I’m too tired. That’s why I napped.”

  “I understand.”

  “So, you like Jim?”

  “He’s nice to me.”

  “Yes. An’ he’s very han’some—goin’ to be a fine-lookin’ man.” Her dark eyes swept over Ella’s face, and she gave a knowing smile. “I guess you do have sentiments for him.”

  “You think I shouldn’t feel this way?” She felt nervous talking about the subject, but she knew Velma wouldn’t tell on her.

  “Child, no one can stop the heart. Feelin’s flare up likes fire. Stomp on the flames an’ you spread ‘em. Dampenin’ it down only makes you miserable. It’s how we tend to that fire that counts. Out of control, fires can burn us. Contained fires can make us feel nice an’ snuggly.”

  “I don’t think I know what you’re gettin’ at.”

  She smiled and revealed the ample gap between her teeth. “You will. Just don’t pine after him. Don’t let your dreams of him blot out another’s true love. There’ll be others, perhaps. You’re young. But I’m not sayings there won’t be a fire, which will grow between you. Jim’s had heartbreak, already. That girl moved away. He tends to have a temper. That kind of thing can kill love between even grown folks—if not controlled by the Lord. I know that all right.” Her dark eyes took on a haunted look.

  “I understand.” Ella read deep pain and hurtful truth in the woman’s facial expression. “My pa had a temper.” She bowed her head and felt the emotions well and spill out. “When he gets in a fit, his hand starts shakin’ and then his arm. It makes him mad. He’d hit my … mama.” Ella choked on the words and she tried to continue, “He—”

  “Child, you don’t haves to tell me.”

  “I do. I have to.” She felt the dam inside her slide, crumble, and part. “If Pa was made furious by me, Mama made him hit her. He’d cut her mouth. Punch her eyes black. He’d knock her down, hit her belly, an’ then hate her ‘cause the babies died. He said he wanted a boy—not me. Then the new baby died—Mama died!” She dissolved into tears.

  Fingers grasped her upper arms. “Come here, child.”

  She sat wrapped in Velma’s loving arms while she succumbed to her own pain and grief. She felt the chair rock, but time faded away. It felt as if her mama’s arms held her one more time, comforted her, and sheltered her.

  When the deluge of tears ceased, she felt limp and drained. She eased herself out of Velma’s lap and sank to the floor. She wiped her swollen face and bowed her head against the woman’s skirted legs.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No needs to be sorry. Don’t you feels better?” Her fingers caressed Ella’s head. “This is what us women folk are su’pose to be to each other. We comfort one another. Gust hits me when he gets drunk. I have my scars inside an’ out. My heart’s broken, but not dead.” She took a deep breath and sighed as though life had drained out of her. “Ohh, I don’t believe he’ll come back to us. Scottie senses it. I think Carrie, she dreads his return. She ain’t actin’ worse ‘cause he’s gone. She’s worse ‘cause she feels he’ll come stompin’ in.”

  Profound silence hung between them for a small amount of time. Only the crackling of the fire made noise.

  “I’ll stay ‘til he comes back.” Ella lifted her head.

  “Then you’ll be here a long time.” A single tear traveled down the lonely woman’s cheek.

  “Then, you’ve got one more daughter.”

  “Yes, I do.” She bent forward and kissed the top of Ella’s head. “Now, gets your Bible. I’ll read a passage to you ‘fore we goes to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll attend the church service. Leigh will be preachin’. Afterwards, they’ll meet an’ talk of the church bein’ used as a school.”

  “It’s really Mama’s Bible and her mama’s ‘fore that.” Ella got the big book and returned to her spot beside the rocker. She crossed her legs and reverently laid the Bible in Velma’s lap.

  “You’ve a treasure here.” Velma lifted the black leather cover. With care, she turned a few pages and paused.

  When she didn’t speak right away, Ella tugged at her sleeve. “What is it?”

  Velma met her eyes and frowned. A tendril of hair slipped its pins and hung beside her face. “Ella Dessa, do you haves another name ‘sides Huskey?”

  “Another name?”

  She pointed at the page and said, “This page lists the important things in your mama’s life, sech as your birth.”

  “I never saw that.” She leaned closer. “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “That’s me. Ella Dessa … Kilbride?” She scowled, confused by the unfamiliar name. “What’s that mean?” She paused long enough to think. Kilbride was the name of the man who had once loved her mama, but she didn’t blurt out that secret fact. She peered at Velma. “Mama never called me that.”

  “Hmm, let’s see what else is written. Your mama’s parents were Aileen an’ Clive Finley. It says they died tryin’ to cross Halfpenny’s Creek. I know where that is, but I don’t remembers them. They must’ve died ‘fore Gust an’ I settled here. Yes. Here’s the date of their death. This is your parents’ wedding date. This is your birth date. We’ll have to give you a party.” She smiled. “Since you’re doin’ a special thing for my Scott.”

  “I ain’t ever had a party, either. Mama told me about parties. She used to live fancy-like when she was little, but not here in the mountains.”

  Velma tapped the Bible. “Ella, I didn’t know you had so many brothers an’ sisters who died. I’m sorry.”

  “I did?”

  “Your mama wrote their names.”

  “What?” She ran one finger down a list of names and dates she didn’t recognize. “Look, Timothy’s name. How can that be? See? Timothy Huskey.”

  “No, child, that’s not the baby your mama just birthed. That’s another one birthed three years ago. Your mama named all of them.”

  “Them?”

  “The ones—the babies she lost. Those that didn’t live.”

  Pulling the Bible closer, so she could see better, Ella m
arveled at the undersized, beautiful handwriting. The list included five infants and their names. “Becky, Etna, Clarice, Timothy, and Jonah Huskey. So, Mama named one of ‘em Timothy like I did?” Astonished, she ran her finger over the written name. “I need to add my Timothy. There were three girls, plus two boys before my Timothy?”

  Velma’s finger moved from one spot to another. “Ella?” Her voice was hesitant and soft. “If these dates be set down correct an’ the record of your name be true, Jacob Huskey mightn’t be your father. That’d explain the strange name.”

  “I don’t understand.” She squirmed closer.

  “Was your mama married to another—‘fore your pa?”

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  “Let me tries to explain. Your mama an’ Jacob married on the thirtieth day of May, in eighteen-twenty-three. You were birthed that same year on the fifth day of November. That ain’t even six months. It takes nine months to haves a baby that’ll live. Did Granny deliver you?”

  She thought for a couple of seconds. “Mama didn’t say so.”

  “Granny never said you were birthed ‘fore you should’ve been?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Well, this date says you were.”

  “So? What does that mean?”

  Velma’s face colored. She acted uncomfortable. “This’ll take explainin’. First, are you sure your mama weren’t never married to another man?”

  “Yes. I mean … no, she weren’t.” She shook her head. She knew that loving and marrying were two different things. “Mama would’ve told me if she had.”

  *******

  Later that night, Ella Dessa remained awake on her pallet, keenly aware of the gentle breathing of the other children. Her mind whirled with information clearly scribed in her mama’s Bible. It kept her from sleeping. Velma explained completely how human babies came to be, and then she told her to keep quiet about the particulars she now knew. Mama listed her last name as Kilbride. According to Velma, only one explanation clarified the different last name.

  She curled into a ball under the thin quilt. She thought about the one fact she hadn’t told Velma. Her mama once loved a man with the last name of Kilbride. If what she now knew was correct, Jacob Huskey wasn’t her pa.