A Death in the Family
Life at its meanest can throw you curve balls and at the moment, it was fast pitching its way to Scarlett's third strike. Exactly two years to the day of Melanie's death, Scarlett received a telegram.
MRS BUTLER STOP ELLA KENNEDY HAS FALLEN ILL STOP EMERGENCY STOP COME IMMEDIATELY STOP
When she arrived at Madame Carrington's School for Young Ladies, she wasn't sure what she'd be confronted with, but she certainly didn't expect the shock she received. Laying in a secluded room of the sick ward, Ella looked ghastly. Scarlett couldn't bear to look at Ellla, her face pale in the light of the lantern.
"The doctors say she won't make it through the night, Mrs. Butler. We went for you as soon as we realized her cold had taken a turn for the worse."
Scarlett nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. She brushed her fingers against Ella's small face, moving her runaway, auburn curls. "Could you leave us?" she asked the young Ms. Carrington, daughter to the original owner of the girls' school.
"Of course. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask one of the nurses. I trust you can find your way back to the guests' quarters when you're ready?"
Scarlett only nodded and looked back to her only recently beloved daughter. Her heart tore in two. She let out a dry laugh at the bitter irony of it all. Hadn't it been she who had prayed to God that it had been Ella who had died instead of Bonnie? Hadn't she cursed her daughter's existence since the day her conception was known?
Yet, somehow, in this moment, all those past thoughts and deeds didn't seem to matter any more. Even a bad, misguided mother at some point realizes the follies of her past. "I was but a spoiled child, dearest. Could you ever forgive me?" she asked Ella's sleeping form. "I never was a good mother, was I? I never really wanted to or cared about being a good mother. I never wanted children. Except for-well, we shant talk about the baby. You were so lucky to have Melanie there for you...we all were." she paused, thinking of the many sins she had committed against her daughter, "You're just a child, a child who never asked for more from this world then to be loved. And darling, I do love you, but I fear it may be too late!"
Beneath her trembling hands, the child began to stir, "Momma, is that you?"
Scarlett jumped, "Yes baby, I'm here. I promise I won't leave."
Ella coughed long and hard, her entire body spasming. "Momma, it hurts," she cried in a small voice.
"Oh darling," Scarlett soothed, holding the child close to her, "It'll all be okay, I promise. Don't think about what hurts today. Everything will be better tomorrow."
Ella nodded, pulling in closer to her mother. "I missed you, Momma."
That night was the longest Scarlett could remember. Longer than the night Sherman came and Melanie gave birth. She stayed up with Ella, comforting her when she woke, telling stories of times past, and holding her when she slept. Never letting herself think of her daughter's fading mortality. It was nearly dawn when Ella took her last shallow breath.
Scarlett gently laid Ella back on the bed. She knelt next to the littler girl and finally allowed herself to break down and sob. Something inside her cracked until finally her entire being shattered inside and out. She sobbed harder as she thought about all she'd lost in such a short amount of time. Bonnie. Pa. Mother. Melanie. Rhett. And now Ella.
Ms. Carrington entered the sick ward shortly after dawn to find Scarlett prostrate beside her daughter, her face marked by dry tears. The young Ms. Carrington put her hand to her mouth in upset surprise. She had never seen such a sad and truly moving sight. She was about to leave the room and close the door when Mrs. Butler moved.
Scarlett rolled over from where she lay, the events of the night still foggy in her mind. She made an unladylike grunt when she saw Ms. Carrington. "Oh, hello. I do apologize, I wasn't-"
Ms. Carrington smiled, "Please, my dear, it is I who must apologize for intruding. And please, call me Ellen."
Scarlett looked down, the woman's name sending a rush of memories of another, more intimately known Ellen, her Mother. "Ellen," she whispered.
Ellen smiled, trying to show as much hospitality and kindness as she could. After all, this woman had just lost her only daughter.
Scarlett stood up, desolate as ever. She looked to Ellen whose face showed a kindness she hadn't seen in years. Why, she reminds me just of Melly,Scarlett thought suddenly. At this thought, Scarlett visibly relaxed. Though she couldn't explain why, Scarlett felt comfortable, at home almost in the presence of Ellen.
"Mrs. Butler," Ellen whispered softly, "we need to get Ella to a-" she paused, struggling to think of a way to broach the subject of funeral plans for Ella as kindly as possible. "We must change her. Her journey to God is not yet over."
Scarlett nodded, comprehending what the woman meant and grateful that she hadn't used the word funeral. She didn't think she could handle thinking of that now. I shant think about it now. I'll think about it tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow I"ll feel better and be able to think about this clearly.
She sighed, thinking about everything that would need to get done. All the things that, once again, she would have to do. She just wished for once in her life she didn't have to be the responsible one. That for once in her life someone else could take care of it for so so she could feel her pain in time and not hide behind a mask of pride in front of others. She had done that so often in her life that she longer longer believed she'd be able to do it again. She looked to Ellen again, "Yes, yes, very right. She must get-" she stopped a moment, choking back tears, "dressed." She pulled herself away from Ella and followed Ellen down the hall.
Ellen led Scarlett to a simple, yet comfortable room. "Here, Mrs. Butler, you should get some rest."
Scarlett nodded, too tired, too emotionally drained to protest, "Some sleep might be good."
When Ellen stepped out of Mrs. Butler's room, she stepped out with a mission. She was going to help this woman and her deceased child. She knew that MRs. Butler had relatives here in Charleston and felt it was imperative that she alert them of the young child's death.
Ellen sighed, thinking of Mrs. Butler. The poor woman looked so broken and sad. Understandably, she need some loving attention and support from the Charleston branch of her family. She had met the Butler family of Charleston on many occasions. Her family was closely acquainted with the Butlers, having taught all the young women of the family, and she was sure Eleanor Butler would want to be notified of her granddaughter's death.
She walked to her office and pulled out a paper and fountain pen and began to write.
My dearest Eleanor,
It is with deepest regret that I inform you that your granddaughter, Ella Kennedy Butler has tragically passed of pneumonia. Her mother, Scarlett is here, but I fear the poor woman will need all the support and love she can get from her family at this time. Perhaps you can help see to the funeral services.
Again, I apologize for the shortness and crudeness of my letter, but I felt it best to act fast.
All my love,
Ellen Elizabeth Carrington