Chapter 18 Ella
ELLA
Ella stood just under the overhang of the barn roof, watching the snow fall over the farm for a long time, her heart feeling ripped wide open all over again as she relived the most terrible days of her life.
But this time, instead of dwelling on her anger and exhaustion, she was replaying her actions.
She watched as her former self slid out of bed again and again, hair tangled and sweaty from the hormonal shifts of new motherhood.
She knew that days had passed with full sunlight, but all her memories of that time were in the dark of night, or that endless gray pre-twilight when both Lee and Dove were always miserable, and when Ella thought that the sleep she craved more than oxygen might never come.
Even now, when she closed her eyes, she could still hear Dove’s frantic squawking cries, followed by Lee’s low groan. How she had wished the baby could wake more quietly so that she only had one needy soul to comfort at a time.
But looking back, she saw herself, with the baby at her breast, rubbing her husband’s back until he drifted into a fitful sleep again.
Every movement of her hand, and every beat of her heart filled with a love so deep that she hadn’t even needed to be aware of it to care for them both with everything she had, over the screams of her own mind and body for peace.
I kept my promise. I loved him the very best I could.
How had it taken someone she barely knew to point that out?
Maybe he knows me a lot better than I thought…
Dalton’s words weren’t magic, and she didn’t feel instantly better about everything, but the weight of guilt she carried was slowly lifting, allowing her to breathe in the snowy air more deeply.
Opening her eyes once more, she looked back at the farmhouse. Warm light glowed in the windows, and she thought about how that comforting space was home to Dalton too, at least for now.
How long would I have carried those feelings if he hadn’t made me talk about it?
She hoped that time would have healed her wounds enough that she could have opened up to her parents, to someone, about the pain she carried.
But no one made her feel the way Dalton did. He didn’t comfort her with platitudes. He asked questions, and her answers somehow let her see her own mind.
For a man who had no family to speak of, and who said he’d had few friendships, Dalton had a wisdom about the human heart. Or at least about Ella’s heart.
Tears began to stream down her cheeks without her knowing why. All she knew was that she had to get to Dalton, had to find him, to tell him that he was right, that what they had was special, too special to let anything get in its way.
The snow was falling fast and deep now. Her hair and coat were covered in thick, heavy flakes by the time she came up the porch steps.
She opened the front door quietly and slipped off her boots and coat before tiptoeing back to the kitchen. It was late enough now that Dove would be sleeping, and maybe Mom and Dad too.
Hopefully, Dalton was still awake. She had no idea what she wanted to say to him. Maybe she only wanted to wrap her arms around him at last, and rest her head against his chest to hear the steady beating of his heart.
But she heard voices coming from the kitchen just as she reached the end of the hallway.
“No, no, you didn’t wake me, son,” her dad was saying softly. “I just came down for a drink of water.”
“Sit, and I’ll fix it for you,” Dalton said, his deep voice low and gentle.
“No, no,” Dad said. “I’ve got it, Andy.”
Andy?
Ella smiled to herself. Her father, half asleep, had said the wrong name. There was only one other young man he’d ever been as fond of as Dalton, and as far as she was concerned the slip-up was a high compliment.
Dalton is a part of this family. If that’s not proof, I don’t know what is.
She listened for a moment to see if Dalton would correct him. But there was no reply, only the rush of water coming from the tap, and a moment later the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Smiling to herself, she slipped into the kitchen, only to find it empty. The footsteps she’d heard hadn’t just been her father’s. Dalton had headed up too.
She debated trying to catch him before he got in bed, but something about knocking on his bedroom door felt wrong.
I can wait until morning, she told herself.
But she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, at least not right away, not with so many feelings and revelations bubbling up in her chest.
So she headed back down the hall to the living room and curled up with a book that she probably wouldn’t even read. Outside the window, she could see the snow driving down at the edge of the porch lights, but with a quilt on her lap, she felt nice and cozy.
I’ll talk to him tomorrow, she told herself. Everything is going to be wonderful from here on out.