Northern Light

by Annette O'Hare

  Thomas laughed. The thought of digging his hands into soil gave him a good feeling. “Mr. Logan, do ye think I might be able to help ye with yer garden, sir?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Seems the missus has you on a pretty short leash. I’ll have to check with her whether or not you’re able to leave the house yet. But that would sure free me up to do some other things around here.”

  “Oh, I’d be much obliged if ye would ask. I’m so ready to get out of this bed.”

  Mr. Logan laughed. “I’ll have Margaret prepare the seeds, and I’ll see what I can do to get you a reprieve from the warden. Oh, but if you do get Caroline to give you a work permit, take care that you steer clear of my beehives. I don’t want you swoll up with bee stings.”

  “Aye, so ye keep bees. Do ye get much honey from yer hives?”

  “We get a fair amount of return. Enough to slather on our biscuits and sweeten our coffee, I suppose.” He nodded his head. “Oh, and we use the wax for our candles too.”

  Thomas was excited at the thought of getting on his feet again. “Mr. Logan, do ye mind if I ask ye another question, sir?”

  “I supposed there’s not much I can do to stop you.”

  Thomas was growing to like this man. “Well, I was wondering…you and yer wife have treated me with such hospitality. And yer children have all taken to me—all…except for…one, yer precious Margaret. I don’t understand why the young woman feels so much hatred toward me. She’s such a beautiful lass…I hate for her to harbor such awful feelings inside. It can’t be good for her.”

  Mr. Logan puffed on his pipe and gazed up at the ceiling as if thinking how to answer the question. “Thomas, my daughter has seen a great many disturbing things since this ol’ war began. It broke her heart when she found out I was being recommissioned out here by the Confederate States Lighthouse Bureau.

  “Then we arrived to find that the light had been dismantled for its iron. You see…New Orleans had always been her home, and she loved it dearly. She was devastated when we learned it had fallen to the enemy.” Mr. Logan leaned forward in the chair. “You probably don’t know it, but back in Louisiana she was engaged to be married. Her fiancé was killed about a month before her wedding day. They had to postpone the date at least a dozen times, but their day never came.”

  The man’s words pierced Thomas’s heart. It all made sense now. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Logan. The poor lass...”

  Jebediah lowered his pipe, the tobacco smoked to ashes. “Well, I suppose I’d better get back to work.”

  Thomas extended his hand and Mr. Logan accepted it. They didn’t shake, but instead held tight and nodded to each other.

  Jebediah pushed on the bedroom door, and it bumped into something. He looked around to see what it hit. “Liz, what are you doing…listening through the door?”

  The girl scowled at her father. “I wasn’t listening, Papa! I was looking for you and heard your voice.”

  “Git yourself in the other room!” The door slammed behind him.

  Thomas couldn’t imagine what the exchange between Elizabeth and her father was all about. He let his mind drift. His thoughts went straight away to Margaret. He now understood why the young woman hated him so. He represented everything bad in her life. “O Lord, I pray Ye’d take away the poor lass’s pain. I beg Yer forgiveness for my presence causing hurt to her even more. Please heal her brokenness, Father. In Yer Son’s name, I pray.”

  Thomas grieved for Margaret’s pain, knowing all too well how it felt to lose someone close. He was alone and isolated from his family so very far away. Thoughts of his mother and sister caused a wave of sorrow to wash over him. Was there nothing I could have done to save them, Lord? Oh, Father, I don’t deserve the kindness I’ve been shown here. I couldn’t save my mam and dear little Elizabeth…Lord, please show me what I can do to help heal Margaret’s heart.

  7

  The house shook and windows rattled.

  Margaret flew through the kitchen door. “Mama, do you have any idea where Elizabeth is? Papa asked us to do some work in the garden, and I can’t find her anywhere.”

  “I have no idea where she is, Margaret. Last I saw, she was in your bedroom at the writing desk, but that was hours ago.” She raised the knife to continue peeling the potatoes.

  June and Jeremiah ran through the door with outstretched arms and tearful faces.

  Mama lifted the knife high in the air when the two youngest children grabbed her around the legs.

  The cannons blasting away in the Gulf would give panic to the strongest of constitutions.

  Mama dropped both the knife and potato into the dry sink and wrapped her arms around her two little ones. She inched toward the kitchen table and sat down to pull the children onto her lap. “All right now, don’t fret. You’re all in one piece, aren’t you?” She playfully poked around on their sides. Laughter broke through their sobs. “You both feel fine to me.”

  June slid off Mama’s lap. Indignant hands clamped onto tiny hips. “Don’t tickle us, Mama. Me and Jer’miah is scared to death.” June was probably ten percent serious and ninety percent playacting. It was most likely a ploy to shirk her assignment of watching baby Jeremiah while dinner was prepared.

  Jeremiah continued to cry, and Margaret knew he wasn’t pretending.

  Mama pressed his head against her bosom and rocked back and forth, shushing him. “I understand you’re scared, and I know it sounds frightening, but those old ships out there in the Gulf aren’t firing at us. They’re shooting at each other. Now tell me, has our house ever been hit by one of those cannon balls?”

  “Don’t tease me, Mama. You know Lizbeth found that big ol’ cannon ball right in the middle of our cotton field. She said it coulda hit any one of us square in the head and knocked us plumb cuckoo.”

  Of course she would remember that…she remembered everything. Margaret wanted to laugh but stopped when Mama pointed her finger at June.

  “You better watch that sassy mouth of yours, Miss Priss.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” June hung her head.

  Mama looked up at Margaret. “You know, if I had my way, I’d put both President Davis and President Lincoln in a room and deprive them of any and all modern conveniences until they settled their differences without one more drop of bloodshed.” She hugged her baby tight. “But I suppose that won’t happen any time soon.” She covered Jeremiah’s ear with her hand as she raised her voice. “Elizabeth! I need you in the kitchen. Where could that girl be?” Mama picked up a cup towel from the table and wiped her hands.

  “You know good and well she’s probably flittin’ around somewhere…up to no good,” June said.

  Mama gave June a warning look.

  You’re one smart little girl, June Marie, probably right too. Margaret kept those thoughts to herself. “I told you, Mama. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  Another blast of cannon fire tore through the air and this time, Jeremiah wailed.

  Margaret felt terrible for Mama. The bowl of unpeeled potatoes and the ingredients for cornbread were forgotten. A labored sigh escaped her mama’s lips, and she paused a moment before handing Margaret the baby boy. She put her hands on June’s shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen door. “Margaret, I’m sorry, but I need you more than your papa does right now. Take these two young’uns to the front room and see if you can’t distract them until I get dinner made or this war’s over…whichever comes first.”

  “Mama, when is Elizabeth going to start doing her share of the work around here?”

  Mama exhaled a long breath as she nudged the two girls toward the door. “Margaret, please, just do this for me, and I’ll take care of your sister when and if she decides to show up for dinner.”

  Margaret pursed her lips as Mama returned to the sink. She wiped her brow and picked up another potato as Margaret ducked around the corner and into the front room.

  The back screen door flew open and Papa made his presence known in the kitchen. “Where in
the world are Margaret and Elizabeth? I gave them a job to do and they’ve up and disappeared. What in tarnation is going on around here? When I give an order, I expect it to be followed, Caroline.”

  Margaret leaned against the wall that ran between the front room and the kitchen. She lowered her baby brother to the floor and he toddled to June. The little actress was lying flat on her back on the big oval rug, pretending to be a forlorn princess banished to the Tower of London.

  “Jebediah, don’t go blaming Margaret.” Mama’s voice came slow and even. “She told me you had chores for them and she’s been looking for Elizabeth too. We don’t know where that girl is. And I’m the one who asked Margaret to help me so I can get dinner ready. Now come on in here and have a seat.”

  A kitchen chair scraped the floor. One of the cabinets creaked as it was opened. Water flowed and a low clank meant the coffee pot was being put on the stove.

  A particularly loud cannon blast shook the house.

  “Father, Your protection over this family.” Mama called out for divine help.

  Jeremiah screamed and raised his hands in the air before he toddled to Margaret.

  She scooped him up and patted his back.

  June raised her head from the rug.

  Margaret put a finger to her lips, warning her sister to remain silent, while she soothed Jeremiah.

  June’s eyes rolled back and she sighed, letting her head fall to the rug with a thump.

  Something that sounded like her father’s fist hit the table with a loud bang. “That’s it. I’m going to the coast to see what’s happening down there.” A chair slid back.

  “There’s nothing you can do over there but get yourself killed. Now sit down and have a cup of coffee.”

  “Caroline…what are we going to do about Elizabeth? She’s getting more disobedient as each day passes.”

  The strong aroma of fresh coffee floated out of the kitchen.

  “I don’t know, Jeb.” There was a long pause. “Here we are in the middle of a war and she’s gone missing. I don’t know if I should be worried sick or mad as a hornet!”

  “I’m leaning toward the mad side myself,” Papa said.

  Mama gave a low laugh.

  “The other day I caught her eavesdropping on my conversation with Thomas! I don’t know what’s got into that gal.”

  Margaret’s eyebrows rose. If Papa caught her eavesdropping, he’d be upset. She had not done so intentionally; her parents were talking rather loudly and she couldn’t help but hear. Still, she was in the wrong. Please forgive me, Father.

  A cabinet door opened and something big clanked. More thumping was heard and then another chair was pulled out. Mama must have been moving her potato peeling to the table. “It seems like things have gone from bad to worse since we brought Thomas here.”

  “Aw, I don’t know that he has anything to do with it. I hate to say it, but she’s starting to act just like Emma used to.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Mama snapped at Papa. “Elizabeth isn’t in her condition.”

  Who were they talking about?

  “I’m sorry, hon.” Papa paused before changing his tune. “Well, maybe she’s starting to…you know.”

  She heard Mama drop a potato into the bowl. “What, get her monthly?”

  “Caroline, hold your tongue, there are three men living in this house, for goodness sakes!”

  Margaret clamped her hand over her mouth to hold in the laugh trying to escape.

  “Jebediah Logan, for as long as you’ve been living in a house full of women, you should be used to our ways by now. Besides, you’re the only man in this house right now. Jeremiah is just a baby, and Mr. Murphy is out piddling around in the garden.”

  “So what do you think about our Mr. Murphy?”

  “And just what do you mean by that?”

  “I was just wondering how you feel about him. You know he’s had a hard life—even before he came to America.”

  “Oh, how’s that?”

  “Well, you cutting those potatoes made me think about him telling me how he lost some of his family in that horrible potato famine we read about.”

  “It’s a cruel world we live in, Jeb. I only hope some good will come of this war—somehow.” Another potato dropped into the bowl. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve taken a liking to Thomas. I’ve even thought—”

  Cannon fire exploded, drowning her parents’ voices. Jeremiah wailed and Margaret hugged him to her.

  “…our Margaret.”

  “I don’t think that will be as hard as you think, darling.” Papa chuckled.

  Margaret wanted to run into the kitchen and demand to be told what had been said about her, but of course she didn’t.

  The front door opened.

  “Elizabeth, where on earth have you been? Papa gave us a chore to do hours ago and you just up and disappeared.” Cross with her sister, Margaret patted Jeremiah’s back.

  Mama and Papa came into the front room.

  “Stop exaggerating, Margaret. It hasn’t been hours.” Elizabeth’s words came back with fury. “Besides, it’s none of your business where I’ve been.”

  “Well, it may not be Margaret’s business, but it certainly is mine, young lady,” Mama said.

  Papa stood strong behind her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth shrank at Mama’s stern words and her bottom lip quivered as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I went over to Mr. and Mrs. Milton’s place to check if they had any eggs for sale. I was just trying to help out, Mama.”

  “How were you going to get eggs without any money?” Margaret asked.

  “I thought I’d see if they had some before I asked you for money.” Elizabeth glared at Margaret before turning back to Mama.

  “Well, did they have any?” Mama asked.

  “I…I…no! They didn’t have any extras today.” She wrung her hands.

  “I think I know where you were, and it wasn’t at the Miltons’ getting eggs. Now…”

  June appeared with Jeremiah in tow. She tugged on Mama’s skirt. “See, Mama, I told you Lizbeth was up to no good, and I was right.”

  “Mama?” Elizabeth stood with her arms opened wide.

  Margaret wanted to laugh at June’s comment, but it wasn’t the right time.

  Papa intervened, taking June by the hand. “Come on, girl. You’re right in the line of fire.” He picked Jeremiah up and then led June into the kitchen.

  “Elizabeth, you’ve lied to me and your papa one too many times. I suggest you suck up those alligator tears, march yourself into your room, and do some serious business with the Lord. I’ll be in later to issue your punishment.”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Not another word.”

  Elizabeth clenched her fists and stomped off.

  “What has gotten into her?” Margaret asked.

  Mama didn’t answer. She smoothed her hair back and released another long breath of air before heading to the kitchen.

  Papa sat at the table with both of the little ones perched on his knees.

  “Mama, I’m hungry.” June fiddled with one of the potatoes still waiting to be peeled.

  Mama looked heavenward. She slid the paring knife out of the little girl’s reach. “June, it’s been a while since I’ve heard any cannon fire. Can you take Jeremiah out on the front porch to play?”

  The little girl slid off Papa’s knee. “I guess so.” She helped the baby down and led him toward the door. “Come on, Jer’miah. Mama wants us out of here so she can talk to Papa about what Lizbeth did.”

  Margaret met Papa’s gaze. He burst into laughter, causing her to giggle.

  “All right, you two. The last thing she needs is you encouraging her.” Mama sat down to finish peeling the potatoes.

  Margaret put her hand over her mouth, not wanting to anger Mama any further. Papa picked up his coffee mug. He placed it in the sink and moved behind Mama. He bent over and pu
t his arms around her. He whispered something in her ear.

  Mama laid her head over on his arm. “I love you too. I just don’t understand why things have to be so hard. Can’t there be one good thing come out of this old war? I don’t know how to deal with Elizabeth. Why is she acting this way?”

  “I don’t know, honey, but I think we ought to pray about it before we talk to her.”

  “I agree.” She resumed peeling when Papa released her.

  “Margaret, you can start the work Papa gave you.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Margaret was deep in thought as she walked outside. What did Papa mean? “She’s acting just like Emma.” Who on earth was Emma? And what was her condition they spoke of? She knew it hadn’t been right to listen to what Mama and Papa were saying, especially after Papa’s remark about Elizabeth’s eavesdropping, but now that she had, she had plenty to ponder. She reached the small garden plot and what she saw made fiery anger well up inside her.

  8

  "What do you think you're doing in our garden?" Margaret hiked up her skirt and climbed over the short chicken-wire fence, placed there to protect the garden from small pests, including a few displaced sand crabs. Her leg brushed against a sharp edge, cutting into her knee. She winced in pain and grabbed the wound, spilling her apronful of seeds in the process. She gritted her teeth, unable to determine if she was angrier at the seeds falling or at Thomas Murphy standing in their garden.

  Thomas leaned against the hoe.

  "You should not be here, Mr. Murphy. You need to return to your bedroom before someone sees you."

  "It looks like ye might have hurt your leg, lass. Would ye like for me to take a look at it?" Thomas ignored her angry tone.

  Margaret gasped and clapped her hands down onto her skirt. "You'll do no such thing."

  "Yer papa gave me permission to work in the garden...said it would be a great help to him."

  Margaret turned, irritated at how calm he appeared when she was madder than a wet hen. She dropped to the ground where the seeds had fallen.

  Thomas knelt down beside her and helped gather them.