Ella Dessa rode into view from the shadowed trail.
“Samuel!” She waved at him, her appearance bright and cheerful.
He leaned against one of the porch supports and lifted his left hand. His chest tightened. Ever since his accident, she and Scott had been faithful to visit him on Fridays, if the weather permitted. She had sweetly forgiven him for his nasty attitude on her first visit.
Samuel noticed the way the spring sunlight rippled through her loose hair. The flowing tresses failed to obscure her faded green bodice. Splashes of delicate pink mountain laurel formed a perfect backdrop. April was gone. May waited to have its turn, and the unusual warm temperature made him think of past summers and happier times.
Ella Dessa wore an impish grin as she dismounted by the porch. She tied the reins to the moss-covered hitching post.
“You rode up alone, and you left your hair down?” He wished he dared touch the smooth tresses with the one hand he had left, but he didn’t feel worthy of even a stolen caress.
“Yes, I came alone ‘cause Scott wasn’t feelin’ well. My hair is unbound ‘cause I wanted it that way. I brought my bonnet. See?” She turned to show him the simple quilt-piece bonnet dangling down her back. “It’s with me ‘cause Jim once fussed ‘bout me standing in the sun without a bonnet.” She reached into a saddlebag and drew out a couple items.
“Not much good if it’s not worn.” He ignored the twinge of jealousy he felt at the mention of his older brother. The phantom presence of his missing hand caused him to imagine his fingers actually moved—longing to touch her hair and face.
“I know.” Her sparkling eyes reflected the blue sky. She lifted her skirt with one hand and came up the steps.
Deer trotted up the trail, nose to the ground. He headed for the porch with a short yelp of welcome.
Samuel bent and held out his left hand. “Here, Fuzzy Mutt. Ahh, I mean … Deer.” With an awkward movement, he kept his right wrist shoved into his pants pocket.
“Where’s Deer’s mama?” Ella Dessa searched the yard for the black-and-tan hound.
“She’s doing poorly. Stopped eating this week.” He ran his hand over Deer’s smooth, tan back.
“I’m sorry.” With both her hands, she offered him a new copybook and two other books. “Konrad placed a note inside your copybook. It’s your last assignment. I brought these ‘cause Peggy—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” She blushed at her blunder, apparently not remembering he only had one hand to take the books.
“Don’t be silly. I carry things.” He scooped his left arm around the books and drew them to his chest.
Deer jumped off the porch.
She watched the short-legged dog run through the tall grass. “He’s goin’ to visit his mama. He’s such a sweet dog.”
“Come on in. Jim had to finish turning the ground in the backfield. He’s trying our new mule at the plow. She’s not as calm as Sada.”
“No mule will take her place.” She brushed past him and hurried to open the door.
He clenched his teeth, nodded thanks, and went into the kitchen. He loathed having a woman do things for him, especially where Ella Dessa was concerned. He dumped the books on the table and tried to smile his thanks, but his gut twisted.
“Mother took Phillip, Josie, and Anna with her,” he said. They’re spending the morning tidying Papa’s grave.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Peggy’s not here. She’s spending the night at Grace’s.”
“Yes, I talked to Peggy at school. I told her I’d bring your books. I knew she was helpin’ Grace plant the garden. I also saw her with Grace at Beckler’s. Baby Emma thinks she’s such a big girl, takin’ steps all by herself.”
“Speaking of taking steps, would you care to walk with me?” He couldn’t stay with her in the confined space of the house. “Down by the stream?”
“That’d be nice. It’s a warm day.”
“I’d like to see what damage was done to the stream in the lower field. The gully washer we got yesterday caused some flooding.”
She shrugged and ran one hand through her hair. “Sounds fun.” Loose strands of hair curved around her fingers. “Field grass is turnin’ green. It’ll be a pleasant stroll. I must leave early—to be home ‘fore dark.”
“We can stop at the front field and tell Jim where we’ve gone—so no one will wonder where I got to.” He hurried to hold the door for her and caught an elusive, flowery scent as she stepped past him. Her shoulder brushed his, and he fought the temptation to stop her and snatch her close.
No, stupid. What would you do? Caress her face with your handless arm?
He suppressed the rolling anger, which started in the pit of his stomach and rushed to his head. Instead of touching her, he moved away and kept his eyes on the path.
They walked in silence until they reached the field and rail fence. Jim waved but continued plowing the line he had started.
“He works hard, doesn’t he?” Ella Dessa’s face was unreadable, but her blue eyes followed his brother.
Samuel searched her expression and then gazed at his oldest brother, instantly seeing him through the girl’s eyes.
Jim had shoved his hat back on his forehead. Ruffled, dark brown hair stuck out around his handsome face. Rolled shirtsleeves exposed his tanned arms to above the elbows, and the muslin shirt testified to sweat and dirt. Tense muscles in Jim’s arms and shoulders strained at the tug and jerk of the plow’s bumpy route through the lifting, damp soil. The knuckles of his large hands tightened and went white as he controlled the slicing motion of the plow.
He’s got two good hands. She could never be happy with me. She comes to visit because she feels sorry for me.
Samuel shoved the end of his right arm deeper into his pocket and fumed over his loss. He couldn’t pray past the fact it had changed his life. Not just a little—totally.
His eyes lingered on Ella Dessa’s face. He longed to place both his hands on the sides of her pretty face, drown himself in her exquisite, blue eyes, and loudly declare his love.
He’d been ready to ask her hand in marriage before the accident.
The tepid spring breeze tugged at her hair. It coiled the light-colored curls across the front of her neck and concealed the bumpy scars. He knew her too well. Her thoughtful eyes reflected the azure blue sky above their heads.
“Is that man, Josh, pestering you, again?”
“No.” She waved her hand at a fly and shook her head. “Haven’t spotted him lately. An’ I’d rather not.”
“That’s good.”
On the other end of the field, Jim turned the plow.
“When did he shave his beard?”
“Last week, after your visit. Said the warmer weather made it itch.”
Samuel switched his attention from her to his brother and wished he hadn’t. Jim’s absorbed look swept over Ella Dessa, in full appreciation of her shapely figure. When he saw Samuel watching him, a guarded look promptly clouded Jim’s countenance.
“Hi, Ella.” Jim brought the white mule to a halt near the fence and flipped the reins over the weathered top rail. He gave Ella Dessa a playful wink. “My goodness, you must’ve left the store tending itself again.”
“I ran away.” She smiled mischievously, and her cheeks deepened in color.
“You’ll lose your job.”
“You know that won’t happen. I brung Samuel his very last lesson.” She placed her hands on the rail near the leather reins. “Samuel will finish with top grades.”
Jim nodded and glanced at Samuel. “I’m sure he’s happy about that, eh, Sam?”
“Yep, glad to be done.”
“Proud of you.” Jim removed his hat and smoothed his messy hair. A shadow of a beard showed on his jaw and cheeks. He appeared exhausted. “Sam, you can now do something with your life besides plow fields like me.”
A twinge of guilt forced Samuel to avoid his brother’s weary, gray eyes. The spring planting had fallen to Jim. The most Samuel could do was drop
seed but not plow. For once, Jim hadn’t complained about all the farmwork. He acted resigned to it and more distant than usual—even toward Ella Dessa.
The girl shaded her eyes with one hand. “We’re walkin’ to the stream. Want to join us? I’m sure the work will wait.” There was a hint of pleading in her soft voice.
Jim’s lips parted as if he might say “yes,” but, instead, he shook his head. “Thanks for asking. I got to finish this. The plow doesn’t wait for me, and the rocks defy me. I keep building more piles of them.” He pointed at the haphazard stacks dotting the small field.
“The rocks won’t care if you ignore ‘em and go with us.” A slight pout formed on her full lips.
He sighed. “Stop tempting me. You two have fun. It’s a perfect afternoon. Don’t waste it.” He flashed Samuel a significant look. “Enjoy the day to the fullest.”
“But why waste a sunny day with work?” She lifted her chin and waited for his answer. Her fingers played with the mule’s reins. “Take a break.”
Jim didn’t give in to her suggestion. “Young lady, you better pull that bonnet into place. I keep warning you about freckles.”
She grinned. “I see you shaved. Your dimple shows.”
His hand hid the mentioned indentation. “Hmm, spring is here.”
“So it is. Come with us. Your sleepy mule wants a nap.” She pointed. “Look, she’s standin’ with her eyes shut.”
“No, some other time.” His dirty fingers reached for the reins near her hands.
“We won’t be gone long,” Samuel said. “I’ll bring in the cows when we come back. Let’s go, Ella Dessa. You need to ride home before dark.”
Jim cleared his throat and glanced at the house. “Is that Walter’s horse tied by the porch? You came by yourself?”
“Yes, Scott couldn’t come. Walter felt I’d be safe ridin’ his horse, but I’d rather walk up. Walter’s horse wants to go too fast. He scares me goin’ back down the trail. A rabbit could make him bolt.”
“No walking. I—we worry about you traipsing around by yourself. A bear might get you.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never seen one up close since the time I picked berries with Samuel.” She turned and grinned at him. “We did have fun that day.”
He ignored her. “She brought Deer up with her.”
“Deer?” Jim frowned. “That dog wouldn’t be fierce enough to defend against a bear. He’d find himself hurt or worse.”
“Ahh, he’s smart and fast.” Ella Dessa gave him a pretty smile.
Samuel nudged her elbow, impatient for a chance to be alone with her, without Jim capturing her attention. “Shall we go?”
“Yes.” She turned, but a puzzled look darkened her light eyes. “What’s botherin’ him?” she said, when they were out of earshot. “Jim acts withdrawn, even when he’s laughin’.”
Samuel kicked at a rock. “It’s me,” he muttered.
“You?”
He kicked another rock. It bounced off a tree. “I can’t do farmwork.”
“I don’t feel that’s it. He seems—I think the word is despondent. That’s from our spellin’ list this week.” She turned, her curious eyes following Jim and the plow.
“Despondent?” He eyed her, wondering what else went through her mind. “So, you pretend to know him better than I do?”
“No, I sense somethin’ we don’t see.” She clapped her hands and called to the wandering dog. “Jim don’t talk much to me. Not anymore.” The dog ran from under the corncrib and headed toward them. “The last few weeks he comes and goes from the store, but I sense he’s avoidin’ me. Katy did tell me he’s seein’ Sophie again. They patched up their differences.”
“What do you sense about me?”
“You?” Her perfect eyebrows arched, and she tipped her head to the side.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.” She bent and patted the dog’s head. “You don’t realize your life is just beginnin’. Konrad said so. He says your abilities make you a wonderful teacher. Furtherin’ your studies will be a good idea, but you—”
“How can a teacher with one hand earn respect from his students? I hate penning a paper with my left hand. It’s a mess. I can’t draw. I sure can’t farm.” He sensed his words sounded bitter and childish. He didn’t care. The tether of anger in his chest couldn’t be disregarded.
Her eyes flitted over his face and reminded him of blue butterflies in flight. Then her gaze dropped to his right wrist—stuffed in his pocket. His stomach tightened with resentment at the unspoken reminder.
“I’m crippled.”
“Samuel, please don’t stay bitter.” She almost whispered the words. “It’ll take time. I believe you’ll learn to do most everythin’ you want. First, you must want to push forward. God’ll give you strength to find what you yearn to do in life. It’ll come. I’m willin’ to help you. We can pray ’bout our future. Yours and mine.” She placed a hand over her heart. A hint of a smile turned up the corners of her full lips, and she blushed.
He didn’t answer her, even though he noted her last words. Yours and mine. His new reflections about God weren’t something he wanted to talk about. What God had allowed to happen to his hand made him furious. Even his rescue by two runaway slaves irritated him.
They drew close to the wide stream, which meandered around and cut a swath out of the flat land behind the homestead. His papa had cleared most of the trees before all the children were born. He had left only a few oaks for shade.
Samuel could see where rushing water had dug into the rocky banks and piled dead tree branches into mounds along the water’s curved path. Water splashed and gurgled over exposed boulders. An undersized beaver dam, from the previous fall, had taken a beating. The shallow lake that had started to form was empty.
“Wild an’ beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely heard above the steady splash and gurgle of water.
Yes, beautiful. His eyes noted her flushed cheeks. How can I give her up? But how can I expect her to live with a one-handed man?
“Even the air’s scented with blossoms an’ spring. Look at all the new leaf buds! See where the stream heads deeper in the woods an’ the ground dips? I bet there’s a pretty waterfall below,” she said.
“There’s a waterfall on down the ravine. The stream runs right over it.”
“I knew it.” Her bright smile widened. “Show me your tree fort?” she asked. Deer came at a run over the rocks and jumped on a wide boulder near them.
He pointed to the left. “It’s that way, where the stream dips and starts down the slope.”
“Then, we might see the waterfall from it?” Her oval face lit with interest. “Let’s go.”
Samuel shook his head. “It’s falling down.” He noticed Deer lift his head, sniff the air, and stare at something along the section of woods to the right.
Instantly, the animal jumped down and trotted away.
“I want to see it.”
“Not today.” He knew using one hand to climb into the old tree fort would be awkward, and he didn’t want to face her pity.
“Samuel, at least let me see it from the ground.”
He sighed and beckoned to her.
A few minutes later, they stood and gazed at the rickety ladder that led to his childhood haunt. Bitterness washed through him. He couldn’t even do what a child could do—climb a stupid wooden ladder.
“Let’s try it,” she said.
“You go up if you want.” He backed away.
Without hesitating, she reached for the rung just over her head. With her booted feet, she tried to kick her long skirt out of the way and obtain a foothold on the rungs. She laughed. “I cain’t see what I’m doin’. Ugh! Don’t watch. I might be unladylike.” She hung on with one hand and reached to lift her skirt with the other.
Samuel wished things were different. Showing her a part of his childhood should’ve been fun.
“I made it!” Her laughter rippled through the silence, and her cheeks
blazed with new color. “Please, hook your right arm over the rungs an’ climb up.”
“No.” He stepped away from the ladder’s base. Performing everyday duties proved difficult with his right hand gone—let alone climbing a stupid ladder. His injury would be uncovered. He shoved his wrist deeper into his pocket. The movement caused him to lean slightly to the right.
“Why not?” She squinted in the sunlight gleaming through the trees. New leaves hung near her head. “Samuel, I’ve seen your injury. I helped Granny do what had to be done after you were brought to her. It don’t bother me to look at you or touch you. I’ve known you too long. You plastered blueberries on my face. That’s how well we know each other. An’ you … kissed me.” She stammered at her last words, but her bright eyes sparkled with fun.
“I’m no longer the same.” He gazed up at her. “Can’t you tell?” He let irritation seep into his voice.
“Yes.” She sighed and stared at the woods. “You fight our friendship. It … hurts.” Her voice broke with emotion.
The dog barked somewhere in the woods.
“Ella Dessa, I’m sorry.”
“Then climb up. I’ll help you over the top edge.” She playfully wiggled her fingers. “Sam, you missin’ a hand don’t bother me.”
“I said no.”
“Then I’m comin’ down.”
Within seconds, she jumped the last couple of feet and landed on the dirt. He felt her small hands close on his right forearm. She tugged.
“Get it out of your pocket. It’s time you face it. Act more like the Samuel I know. I miss him. He was tough.”
“Stop it.” He spun and freed his damaged arm from her warm touch. Instantly, without giving thought to his actions, he viciously shoved the discolored, scarred end into her face—almost hitting her nose. “See it? Satisfied?”
“You’re … cruel.” She covered her mouth with one hand and swayed.
Samuel gazed downward. His arm ended slightly above the wrist. Reddened patches of flesh marked where Granny had sewn a flap of skin over the stub and closed the crude amputation. When he dropped his arm, the sleeve of his shirt hid the horrific damage.
Within the Candle's Glow Page 24
