Ella

by Ryan Scott

  Chapter 5

  They stood at the edge of the cliff, enjoying a rare sunny day. The wind was brisk, snapping Ella’s skirt around her knees and flecking the ocean with whitecaps. The breakers rolled in from the sea and slammed against the rocks, sending fans of spray high in the air.

  Violet fastened her jacket and shouted over the roar coming from the surf, "Hey Ella, how do we get down there?”

  Ella pointed to a narrow trail leading down to a deserted beach, yelling, “It’s kind of steep. Do you want to give it a try?"

  "Sure, anything to get out of this damn wind."

  Ella handed a small bucket to her friend saying, "Here, if you take Little Rico’s red bucket, I'll help him down, but be careful. I suggest you hunker down and slide on your butt a little at a time."

  Violet glanced at the steep trail, swallowed and then took the bucket, replying, “Ok, let’s go!”

  Ella drew in her breath as she began the dangerous descent, gripping the wiry brush with one hand while holding Little Rico with the other. While Violet inched down the trail, following Ella’s advice, her foot slipped. She desperately grabbed an exposed root and stopped herself from falling, but Little Rico’s red bucket careened down the cliff.

  He cried out, "I want my bucket. I want my bucket."

  "Stop your whining. You can get it when we get down there," his mother yelled.

  Safely on the beach, Little Rico, white hair flying, raced to his slightly dented bucket and began to fill it with small stones.

  Ella spread their blanket on the beach near the cliff and kicked off her shoes, sensuously wiggling her toes in the sand. “Ah, this feels good,” She said and reclined on the blanket.

  Violet, sheltered from the wind, took her jacket off and sat down, saying, “Ella, this is my first chance to see your son. I can’t believe he’s all most three years old. I love his brown eyes and his platinum hair.”

  “Thank you Violet. Sometimes he stares at me like a little old wise man, but he’s a handful. He also is a lot of fun! When he was small, I used to push him around in my doll buggy. I’m glad to show him off to you at last, but I’m surprised you came back."

  Violet watched a seagull teeter in the wind and said, "Well, there were issues. I didn’t get along very well with Pete’s parents; they were so damn stuffy. When his work fizzled out, we decided to come back to California. He was lucky to get his old job back with the sheriff. Connecticut is beautiful, but nothing beats this coastline.”

  Ella pointed to a bank of fog lurking on the ocean, saying, “I don't know about Connecticut, but I sure get tired of that damn fog. It comes in every night."

  Suddenly, a fast moving wave slid towards Little Rico. Ella leaped to her feet and ran to her son, grabbing him up just ahead of the foaming water. He kicked and struggled, yelling, "Put me down. Put me down!"

  She returned to the blanket, put him down and gave him a clam shell to stop his tirade. . "I swear, Violet, I have to watch him constantly. He's always running away to investigate something. I tried to keep him close to the house by taking his shoes, but his little feet got so tough he can go anywhere. “

  “Oh Ella! That sounds dangerous!”

  “I know it is. I keep asking Rico to build a fence around the Yard to keep him safe, but he puts it off. I'm ready to build that damn fence myself."

  Violet became quiet as she watched a distant freighter slide over the horizon. Finally she said, "Ella, I'm sorry about your father. I didn’t know him very well. Could you tell me something about him?”

  Ella drew a spiral in the sand and wiped it clean, replying, “Well, he was a complex person. Despite his blindness, he ran three ranches, played the violin and was the best judge of horses in the county. When the house burned down and the banks took all of his ranches, his spirit simply died. I don’t know if his death was an accident or suicide. He also had a dark side."

  "What kind of dark side are you talking about?”

  Ella thoughtfully rubbed the side of her face. "Well, for one thing, he favored Kyle over the rest of us kids. Kyle was a rat, but Papa was so mean to my half brother James, he left home when he was only fifteen. My sister Maggie and I had to be careful not to stand too close to our father because he would try to put his hand up our skirts. Sometimes, he paraded me in front of a bunch of men, saying, ’this is my daughter. Isn’t she nice and fat?’ All the men would laugh, but despite all his faults, I still miss him."

  Violet cleared her throat. "Ella, I’m sorry about your father. How is your marriage working out?"

  Ella picked up a handful of sand and let it sift through her fingers. "Not very good, I’m sorry to say. Since we moved to the coast, Rico hardly talks to me, and he never takes me anywhere. Sometimes he's gone all night. I think he's chasing women."

  "That’s terrible! Those shenanigans would drive me wild! What are you going to do about it? "

  "I don't know. I feel so helpless. He used to be decent, but he’s changed. Maybe the responsibility of a family is more than he can handle, or maybe I'm doing something wrong. I just don’t know."

  Violet clasped her shoulders, saying, "Ella, don’t blame yourself. You’re not at fault! He’s an asshole avoiding responsibilities."

  Ella laughed. "Thank you Violet. You always make me feel better."

  Later, when the tide began to reclaim the beach, Ella picked up Little Rico and announced, “We better go now, unless you want to get wet!”

  Violet quickly gathered their belongings and they began the treacherous climbed back up the cliff. When they reached the top, the wind was bending stubbly grass over sideways. A rusty weathercock swinging back and forth protested loudly. Little Rico tried to say something when his mother put him down, but his words were lost in the wind.

  With her hair whipping around her face, Violet pointed to the barn, shouting, "Hey Ella, what's wrong with that bull making that entire racket?"

  Ella shook her head from side to side, saying, “That’s just old Caesar. Mr. Carlini bought him at auction, but He's mad because the men are keeping him in the barn until they mend the fences."

  An old Model T raised a cloud of dust as it rattled down their road. Little Rico ran towards the car with his short legs pumping hard, yelling, "Daddy! Daddy!"

  Ella watched Rico parked by the barn and begin talking to an elderly worker. Little Rico patted his leg, yelling, "Daddy, Daddy, pick me up!"

  He ignored his son and went into the barn with Little Rico following.

  Ella sighed. "That’s typical of him! He never pays any attention to Little Rico or to me. Violet, I’ve been thinking, if you could spend the night, we could catch up on all the gossip. I would love for you to stay; I’m so lonely."

  "Ella, I would love to stay, but Pete needs the car early in the morning and my lights don’t work. I have to say goodbye now, but I’ll return,” she promised, giving her friend a hug.

  After Violet drove away, Ella looked at the dilapidated farmhouse where she lived and shook her head. One more lonely night to feel bad, she thought as heavy fog crept in from the ocean.

  Shivering from the cold, she went inside the house and began to fix supper. As she gutted the fish with quick ripping motions, she gazed wistfully through the kitchen window turned lavender with age, thinking, I can’t take much more of this. I should leave, but how can I take care of Little Rico all by myself?

  Rico came into the kitchen and sat down with a newspaper. "Bring me a cup of coffee," he ordered.

  She washed her hands in the sink, replying, “Rico, why don't you ever say ‘please’ when you ask me for something?"

  "Why should I? You know what I mean."

  "Because it hurts my feelings. That’s why! You never take anything I say seriously."

  He yawned. "Like what?"

  "Well, for one thing, Little Rico still needs that fence to keep him safe. In fact, where is he now?" she asked, walking to the front door.

  Rico turned to the
want ad section muttering, "Don't worry. He's just playing somewhere."

  "Rico, why is the bull carrying on like that? Oh my God! The baby!"

  She started running towards the barn, but Rico quickly overtook her and reached the barn first, yanking the sliding door open. Aghast, he saw Little Rico advancing on the bull, shaking a stick, shouting, "Shoo bull, shoo bull."

  Caesar bellowed and strained at his tether with blood oozing from his nose. With a toss of his head, he tore the ring loose and charged.

  Rico raced to his son, grabbed him up and leaped into a narrow stall as thundering hoofs charged past and all the way to the opposite side of the barn.

  Ella reached the sliding door as Caesar whirled and charged in her direction. She slammed the door shut and scrambled to the top of a hay wagon parked next to the barn. As she watched Caesar through a small dust-covered window, she held her breath as he circled back to the stall where Rico and her son were crouched. The furious animal with crazed red eyes, fetid breath and snorting filmy blood attempted to force his broad head through the narrow opening.

  Little Rico screamed. "Rico, what's wrong with the baby?"

  "Don't worry; he's all right. I'm taking the back door out."

  As she jumped from the wagon, two old farm hands ran up yelling, "Lady, lady, what’s a matter?"

  She pointed to the barn. "The baby!"

  They dashed to the barn but stopped when she shouted, "No, wait, Luca; he's all right. Follow me."

  Confused by her English, they gestured wildly with their hands.

  When she came around to the back of the barn, Little Rico ran to her and clung to her legs crying, "Bull get me…Bull get me!!"

  She picked him up. "There, there, Baby. Mama won’t let that old bull get you."

  That night, after serving soup and fried fish to her family and the four old workers, Ella washed the dishes and put Little Rico down for the night. When she returned to the kitchen, Rico was pacing back and forth.

  "Rico, you were very brave this afternoon."

  He stopped pacing and hitched up his pants. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

  "You seem preoccupied. Is there something wrong?"

  He studied his fingernails. "No, there's nothing wrong, but I have to leave."

  With her enthusiasm fading she asked, "Where are you going? I was hoping we could spend some time together and be close like we used to be."

  He grabbed his coat. "I have to check on a sick cow."

  "Will you be back tonight?"

  He looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, well, I might be back tonight. It all depends."

  "It depends on what, Rico? Just who is it that you're going to see?"

  He forced his fist into his jacket shouting, "Why are you asking me these dumb questions? I have a job to do. I'll be back when I'm done. That's all you need to know."

  She grabbed the loose sleeve, yelling, “Listen here, Rico; I'm your wife. I have a right to know where you're going, what you're doing, and when you'll be back. I'm not going to be treated like a dog anymore!"

  He yanked his jacket free, stomped out of the house and shouted back over his shoulder, "If you must know, I'm going to see Widow Ruth. Her cow has milk fever!"

  She followed him outside, but stopped on the porch when he climbed in his car. She called, “Rico, come back! We have to talk!"

  He ignored her and let the old Model T roll down the hill. When it sputtered to life, its feeble red light disappeared into the mist.

  Defeated, she slumped against a rotting porch pillar and wept.

  The next morning, when she realized Rico had been gone all night, she suddenly was consumed with rage, bitterly thinking, I put up with a lot of shit to make this marriage work, but the harder I try, the worse he gets.

  She contained her anger while she prepared breakfast for the four old farmhands who were patiently waiting. When she put a platter of eggs on the table, Luca looked at her with gentle eyes. On impulse she asked, "Luca, what do you know about Ruth's sick cow? You know, the one Rico went to fix last night."

  With his drooping mustache wet with coffee, the old man put his gnarled hand over hers and said, "Ruth's a cow no sick."

  As the implications of his words slowly registered, she felt weak. The unexpected confirmation of her suspicions made her feel disconnected, as if she were floating upwards. After the old men finished their breakfast, she sat down heavily on the bench and held her face in her hands with Luca's words repeating in her mind like an unwanted melody. "Ruth's a cow no sick! Ruth’s a cow no sick!" She slammed her fist on the table, shouting, “That son-of-a- bitch!"

  Resolutely, she cleaned the kitchen and gave Little Rico his breakfast. After she finished cleaning the house, she stuffed her threadbare clothes into a pillowcase, shaking her head at her scant belongings, thinking, these pitiful rags are all I have to show for three years of my life.

  It was near lunch time when Rico’s car approached the house. Ella first made sure Little Rico was asleep, and then she found the ax stuck in the chopping block and yanked it free. As Rico jauntily jockeyed his car down the rutted road and parked by the barn, Ella advanced with the heavy blade on her shoulder, chanting, "Ruth's a cow no sick. Ruth's a cow no sick."

  She swung the ax, shattering a headlight. Rico suddenly looked terrified, no longer smug. He jumped from the car, yelling, "Ella, what the hell are you doing?"

  She swung the ax again, smashing the windshield. "Take that! And that! And that!" she screamed, repeatedly swinging the ax, knocking the hood askew, destroying spark plugs, wires, carburetor, glass, tires, and everything in the way of her fury. Rico joined the four old milkers who were wearing one-legged stools strapped around their hips, gaping in disbelief.

  When her anger was spent, she threw the ax at the demolished car, marched back to the house, breathing hard with her hair blowing wildly. She went into the bedroom and easily picked up Little Rico, her muscles hardened by work. After she slung the pillowcase over her shoulder, she walked out of the ancient farmhouse without looking back. With two pennies jingling in her pocket, she took long powerful strides toward Highway 1, thinking, now, by God, I think Widow Ruth’s sick cow is finally fixed!