A Poem For Ella

Can poetry help two lonely people get together?

 

A Poem for Ella

A Short Story

By Alison Lawrence

Ella read through the poem she'd just penned. It worked; she thought. In fact, it expressed her current take on life pretty well. She closed her notebook and gazed out across the flower dotted field. How happy she was, living in her tiny home in what was virtually the countryside. The road to this little piece of tranquility had been hard and draining; but now she was at peace. She had bad days of course: days filled with sorrow and regret and loneliness, but Ella didn't stay there. Introverted and quiet, she preferred her own company, and drawing and writing kept her busy. Her sorrow had helped her draw close to God, and she was going to trust Him with her future.

Jack forked some hay over the fence into the goat pen, whistling a tune as he worked. He stopped for a while to watch their antics. "Slow down ladies, it's not going anywhere." He chuckled to himself. His goats and his hens were the only ladies in his life, and that's the way it would probably stay. He finished dishing out the food, then got onto his 4x4 to do his daily turn around the farm. He noted that the field he was renting out was in need of mowing, and he decided to let his tenant know he'd be over soon to do the job. 

It wasn't his style, but he admired the tiny house. It was on wheels, which made it easier to relocate. This tiny house had the look of a little cottage and had plenty of character with its blue siding and cheerful red shutters. A deck with outdoor seating provided extra living space. Herbs and flowers flourished in containers and a small cooking area added to the home's appeal. He glanced towards the house and saw Ella at one of the windows. She saw him before he could knock, and opened the door, a slightly questioning look on her face. Jack explained the reason for his visit.

Ella's eyes widened. "Oh, must you? The wild flowers are so pretty." Her face reddened as she realized her voice must seem rather loud. "It's just that I enjoy looking at them." She didn't add that she enjoyed picking them and drawing them and had written a poem in their honor.

Her landlord didn't say anything for a bit. Instead, he fiddled with his cap and looked down at his shoes. When he did speak, his voice sounded wistful. "That's what my mom used to say when dad took the mower out. She always arranged the wildflowers in vases around the farmhouse." His eyes met Ella's and he saw understanding in her brown eyes. "Not to worry," he smiled. "It can wait 'til they've died off." He turned to go, but she stopped him. "Thank you. And thanks once again for all your help." Jack had connected the tiny house to the mains. She wasn't self-sufficient yet, although she hoped to be one day.

He waved it off. "Only a pleasure. And let me know if you need anything else."

"I will." Ella returned to her desk, brightened by the small interaction. The flowers were free to bloom until their natural end now. She felt her heart soften towards her landlord, who somehow no longer felt like such a stranger.

As Jack milked the nanny goats later that day, he found himself thinking of Ella. She was likely in her late thirties or early forties. She was a different sort: quiet, and living all alone with only her cat for company. When she'd arrived, she'd told him she was a book illustrator and would be working from home. It was odd really, how much they had in common. Though not in the drawing department of course. He laughed out loud and Polly gave him a disgusted look. "Don't you worry old girl, someone like Ella wouldn't be interested in me."

He'd almost married back in his twenties, and the old farmhouse would be fuller by now if it had worked out. But Becky got cold feet. Said she wasn't ready to settle down to a boring farm life. Not long after, she left him to work on a cruise ship. He'd given up on relationships after that. He was happy with his boring life, but he wasn't about to drag some reluctant woman into it. He figured that God meant for him to stay single. He had his church family, so he had company, although if he was honest with himself, he did wish he had someone special in his life who didn't mind a bit of ordinary.

The following day, Ella drove to town to do some grocery shopping. She wrinkled her nose when she thought of her other errand: she needed to find another product for her composting toilet. It wasn't smelling too pleasant, and she thought the wood chips might be the problem. She enjoyed the quaint buildings and different sights, but was glad to get her shopping done and head back home. A friendly shop assistant had directed her to a different material called coconut coir, and she hoped her smelly problem would soon be a thing of the past. Now that she was living a more independent life, she regretted her lack of practicality. She'd have to learn though, if she wanted her dream of a new life chapter to come true.

"Coconut coir. That's the best stuff to use. So, what do you think of our hardware store?"

The cheerful voice brought her back to reality. Jack took the bag from her and deposited it on the deck.

Ella blushed. How awkward. "It's big and seems to have everything. Not that I know much about hardware stores."

"It's a one stop shop. All your needs under one roof." He chuckled. "Now I sound like an advert."

Ella hadn't known anyone to get excited by a hardware store, but she agreed that the information could come in handy.

"Good thing they stock coconut coir. It works better than chips or shavings." Jack added, oblivious to Ella's embarrassment. Strengthening her resolve to be more practical though, she carried her shopping to the door and invited him in. He had offered to help after all. "There's been a bit of an odour," she admitted.

"Try a bit of vinegar in the liquids compartment, and give the new material a chance. If you still notice a smell, you can get a ventilation kit. I'll install it for you if you like."

She nodded, and smiled despite herself. Jack was so friendly and matter-of-fact, that talking about a toilet didn't seem quite so distasteful.

"I appreciate the offer. Hopefully I won't need one though." She unpacked a new brand of coffee. "Can I make you a cup?" Ella glanced Jack's way quickly, taking in his pleasant face and broad shoulders.

"I'd like that." He agreed. "And no more talk of toilets. I promise." He took off his cap and looked around.

"I'm impressed with your house. Beautiful craftsmanship." Ella placed their coffee mugs on a custom made drop table.

"Thank you. I love it. It's a special little place." She said softly.``They were even able to fit a workstation in for me. For my drawing. And I have more than enough nooks to write my poetry in; so I'm all set."

Jack stroked Ella's friendly tortoiseshell. "Poetry. That's not something I know much about, I'm afraid." 

"And I don't know much about toilets." They laughed. "You should try it though," Ella added shyly. "Poetry. It's healing. And it can draw you closer to God."

The earnest yet soft expression on her face made him believe her, although he had never been much of a reader.

"Maybe I will." He hadn't enjoyed the company of a woman so much in a long time, and he could almost imagine himself reading or even writing a poem for Ella's sake. For both of them, the coffee break ended too soon. Ella almost hoped she would need the thingy majiggy Jack had mentioned for her bathroom, and Jack went about his chores whistling, hoping that Ella would need help again soon.

Their wishes came true: the wildflowers had their last hurrah, and Jack eagerly brought the mower over. Ella made lunch for the two of them and Jack told her all about his goats and chickens. She was charmed by their names and asked if she could meet them and buy some goat's milk and eggs. Jack happily agreed. After that visit, the chickens, goats and farmhouse found their way into Ella's poems and drawings. One poem featured a farmer. A week or so later, Jack came over to check up on her toilet. They both admitted to themselves afterward that they wished the coconut coir wasn't working so well. Jack would have no reason to come over. Another week passed without a reason to see each other. Ella retreated to her world and Jack to his. But Jack couldn't rid his mind and heart of the sweet brunette living on his property: he needed to come up with an excuse to visit her again. As he sat praying one evening, a crazy idea came into his head. What if he were to write a poem for Ella? She had said he should give it a try. Energized, he grabbed his phone and Googled poems. There was plenty of inspiration, though much of it was too weird for him. He quite liked the rhyming poetry, but wasn't sure he would be able to find enough words to rhyme. "Well, Polly," he addressed the nanny goat later in the milking shed, "I might just try that Japanese poetry out, you know. It's called Haiku. Sounds pretty fancy doesn't it?" Polly looked bored and Jack grinned."Well, I'm not asking for your opinion. When I'm done, I'm going to make myself a big mug of coffee and give it a go."

Two days later, donning his best jeans, shirt and cap, Jack knocked on Ella's door. "Jack. It's good to see you. How can I help?" She asked, realizing just how much she'd missed him.

"Well," he smiled, "some of that special coffee of yours would be nice."

They sat on the deck and he filled her in on the latest antics of Polly, Susie and Lettie and the gang. "I'd love to see them again." And you. She wished she could add. 

"It's a date." Laughed Jack easily. He wondered whether he needed to share his attempt at poetry. Libby rubbed her head on his shoes and he picked her up gently. She soon made herself at home on his lap. Ella's heart warmed at the scene. Her ex couldn't stand animals. He'd left her for a thin, blonde reed with no imagination and no cats. 

"Written any poems lately?" Jack asked suddenly.

"A couple."Nothing spectacular though. "And you?"She teased.

"Actually, I have." Jack's eyes twinkled as he seized the moment. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a slip of paper. "It's very short. Not much of a poem I'm guessing. It doesn't rhyme or anything." His hand shook a little as he offered her the paper."I wrote it for you, Ella."

"For me?" She took it reverently from him."I'm honoured. No one's ever written a poem for me before." She felt the romance of the moment touch her heart profoundly.

"I hope it's OK."

She said nothing, and merely unfolded the paper, as though it held something fragile.

Jack watched her face nervously as she read the three lines.: 

A Poem for Ella

Soft summer sunsets

autumn's blush and joy of God

I see in your face

Her eyes were wet when they met his. "It's a Haiku." 

He nodded.

"You see all that in my face?"

A shy nod, and a smile. "At first, I thought I couldn't do it, but just thinking of you made the words come."

"Dearest Jack,"She reached over and touched his cheek. May I write a poem for you?"

Author's Note

Any comments. Did the story touch you?