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Chapter 4: Slipping Under
Ella Jean
Saturday morning, Ella Jean Gallagherleft the hospital in Austin to spend her first weekend without Red in over a year.
As she got on the highway, she felt a little thrill. For as long as she could remember, the comforts of home had never failed to soothe Ella Jean’s frazzled nerves, and she was looking forward to seeing her son. Why, I declare, feels like I haven’t been this tired out since I lost the baby!
Losing Hank’s baby brother Ryan had been the heartache of a lifetime. Now, like then, the months had been occupied by waits in doctor’s offices and hospitals for test after test. That was her life again, now—sobering, perhaps, but nowhere near as devastating, though the hours of worry and strain and preoccupation went on and on.
It was her job to check Red’s sugar levels, and she worried if her husband was light-headed. If his circulation was poor, maybe his pace maker was failing. After attending to the rushed details of his latest kidney infection, she’d felt truly worn down.
Momma and Daddy had gone easy by comparison. Both her parents had enjoyed good health, living to old age.
Her sister Beatrice had helped with their Momma, and afterward, they’d added a small wing to the ranch house and her father moved in with her and Red. Daddy was often up nights, checking stock in the barns. Hank had been a fussy, bawling infant, so when Daddy got in, he’d rock baby Hank for hours in the west wing’s little second-floor sitting room, letting Ella Jean sleep.
But Red was a different story altogether. He’d always been a challenging man. Demanding of nursing staff, he was openly argumentative, overtaxing the orderlies and curt or surly with Ella. Long-term decision making and estate planning required additional hours of tense negotiation. Her husband seemed intent on making each small item an epic argument requiring her eventual concession to his way of thinking. It bothered her more than ever. She felt beaten down, bone-tired, worn by the constant stresses, but especially by Red’s bad manners.
Maybe he had always been this way; after their first years of marriage, they’d stayed out of each other’s way for the most part. She’d kept busy with housekeeping and ranch meals and the church’s Ladies Auxiliary, and Red ran the ranch.
In the heat of high noon, she pulled along the corral near the horse barn and took a moment to enjoy the familiar sights of home. In the paddocks, a horse whinnied, then snorted and squealed in play. Its footfalls thundered into a gallop, before it stopped short at the fence. Calves were bawling in the north section, and she heard the distant hum of a diesel engine, the shouts of the ranch crew. This was the soundtrack of ranch life, and as she breathed it in, a calm settled over her.
Hank must have been listening for the car, because he hurried from the horse barn as she pulled up to the house. Opening the car door, he planted a kiss on her cheek and took her arm, helping extricate her from the driver’s seat. Having him this close felt like a little bit of heaven dropping from the sky.
“I’ve got your bags, Ma,” he said, opening the trunk and surveying her carefully. “Rough week? Pop’s not making it any easier on you, is he?”
Her son knew his father’s temperament, but she tried to spare letting on how much stress she was under. “You go on inside,” he said, “I’ll take care of the car and bring the bags in.”
She’d been at the stove putting water on to boil when he’d grabbed her waist in a surprise hug. “What’s this?” she laughed, turning to give him a squeeze.
“You go take a seat in your chair, Ma, I’ll get your tea. How ‘bout a sandwich, too? There’s still some cold cuts in there. Or I can heat you something from the freezer or maybe a can of soup?”
“Just a little toast and soup, son, that’s all I need.”
“Go put your feet up in the sunroom, and I’ll bring lunch out,” he’d said assuredly.
So she did, taking the wing chair she’d occupied since he was a boy. Putting her feet up on the ottoman, she felt gratitude to the man she’d raised. Hank had grown up so solid—a good man with a caring heart. He’d never caused her a moment of concern, and her pride in her son was that much sweeter for the nonstop grumbling she tolerated from Red.
A few minutes later, he arrived with her tray, setting it on her grandmother’s cherry side table. From the look on his face, she could tell he had news.
“Well, isn’t this a nice treat?” she said, surveying the hasty arrangement. Taking in the skewed fold to the paper napkin, she felt like a queen before her fortune; it was so like all those Mother’s Days he’d made special throughout the years. Just being around her son gave her a lift like no other. He’d buttered her toast and heated the chowder, and her tea was in a big mug with plenty of milk and sugar.
She took up the tea, and Hank grabbed her stockinged foot, edging a hip onto the ottoman with a smile that looked like he’d brought home an A on his report card.
“I mentioned I’ve been giving Daisy a lift to rodeo?” he said. Now Ella Jean understood the spring in Hank’s step; he’d always had a real soft spot for that girl. “I sure do, Hank, sounds real nice, the two of you ridin’ together.”
“Daisy asked if I wanted to bring a picnic over tomorrow mornin’, Ma, like the old days.” His eyes shone bright blue, soft like when he was just a boy, all quiet and hopeful around the girl. She’d captured his heart early.
Ella stirred her soup. “A picnic with Daisy—won’t that be a special treat! So your rodeos are going along fine, then?”
Hank shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Rodeos are always fun. It’s nice to have company there and back, though.”
“Especially when the company’s as lively and pretty as Daisy Mae, I expect.”
A look passed between them, that old special current of understanding they’d always shared, and his smile burst wide. But he must have seen her weariness because his face changed. “Ma, make sure all this isn’t too much strain on you, huh? Pop is a tough customer for you to have to handle full time. Once you pick out that place in Corpus, you hire a nurse and come home here and rest awhile. We can sure swing it financially, and you deserve a little change now and again,” he said, squeezing her big toe.
She wiggled it, smiling back at him. “That’s a real nice thought, son. You wouldn’t mind having your ol’ Ma rattlin’ around this place with nothing to do but keep an eye on you?”
Hank’s grin widened and he’d patted his flat belly. “Heck, no. I sure miss my Momma’s big feeds.”
