Northern Light

by Annette O'Hare

  “So tell me, what is the meaning of each thing?”

  “Let’s see, the coin meant you would have wealth. The ring meant that you would marry, and if you were already married, then your happiness would continue. Both the button and the thimble meant that the person would never marry.”

  “I suppose I’d need to find that ring now, wouldn’t I?” She squeezed his arm.

  “Aye, lass, I hope that ye would.” Thomas began pulling off his boots and rolling up his trousers. “And I suppose I should go and fetch yer coral Christmas tree.” He walked to the edge of the slough and stepped into the water before letting out a long, loud whistle. “Oh my, but this water is a might cold.”

  Margaret covered her mouth and giggled.

  He would do anything for her, even wade through waist-deep, freezing-cold water to retrieve a piece of coral. If there had been any doubt before, there could be none after today. Thomas Murphy was madly in love.

  ~*~

  Jeremiah toddled toward Thomas, his apple cheeks glowing and his hand outstretched. Thomas threaded a piece of string through a small hole in one of the seashells and tied it into a loop before the little boy reached him.

  Margaret sat on the floor beside him, helping with the stringing. “Go on, ask him for more, Jeremiah.”

  Jeremiah tapped his palm. “Mo peas.”

  “Ye want another, do ye?”

  Jeremiah nodded and took the seashell from Thomas’s hand.

  The huge piece of coral made a beautiful Christmas tree.

  The two youngest children had done a good job decorating it with all sorts of offerings from the beach. Seashells, starfish, sand dollars, and even crab claws hung from bits of string.

  Margaret cut red ribbons from an old skirt and added them here and there to give the makeshift tree a homey touch. It was a wonderful display of Christmas spirit, albeit a smelly one—thanks to the sea creatures.

  Mr. Logan sat in his rocking chair, reading while they had their fun.

  Mrs. Logan and Elizabeth were in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal, something they hadn’t done together for some time.

  Thomas felt a surge of happiness because of the wonderful family he’d come to know and love and that they allowed him to be a part of it.

  “We did it, we did it. All the decorations are done!” June jumped up. “Come on, everybody! It’s time for the Advent party to start!”

  Mr. Logan must have dozed off in his chair, as June’s outburst caused him to jump, sending his newspaper flying through the air.

  Mrs. Logan called from the kitchen. “We’ll be there in just a minute.”

  “Thomas, will you pull that table over here by my chair?” Mr. Logan sat up.

  “Yes, sir, I’d be much obliged.” Thomas moved the table already set up with a wreath and candles.

  “Papa, Papa, can I light the first Advent candle, pleeeease?” June begged.

  Mama entered the room.

  Elizabeth trailed behind, her arms crossed, her expression seeming to indicate a lack of desire to participate.

  “Sure you can. Go fetch a stick from the fireplace,” Papa answered June.

  “Mr. Logan, wait. I was wondering if I might say something before we light the candle?” Thomas was solemn.

  “Sure, son, go right ahead. Hold off a minute, June.”

  “Now, I’ve n’er done this before, so please allow me a bit o’ grace.”

  ~*~

  “Don’t worry, Thomas. You’ll do just fine.” Margaret patted his arm.

  “My mam used to tell us that the first candle of Advent is for the prophet Isaiah, who foretold of the birth of Jesus.” He looked over at Papa. “Might I borrow yer family Bible, Mr. Logan?”

  “Of course you can. June, hop up and give Mr. Murphy the Bible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  June had to use both hands to pick up the huge Bible. She took a long whiff of the leather binding before dropping the book into Thomas’s hands.

  “Ye think the leather smells nice, lass?” Thomas asked.

  “Uh-huh,” she answered before plopping back down.

  Thomas thumbed to the book of Isaiah, chapter nine. He began to read. “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder: and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” He closed the Good Book and turned to Mr. Logan. “Would ye please say a prayer, sir?”

  Papa cleared his throat. “Heavenly Father, we humble ourselves before Your throne. Lord, we thank You for those that have gone before us, our sweet baby Joseph and Thomas’s mama and baby sister. Thank You, Father, for the time we had with them. And, Lord, we pray for Thomas’s papa and brothers, that they would be safe and that this old war would be over soon. In Your Son’s name we pray. Amen.”

  Thomas wiped away a tear after Papa’s prayer.

  Papa motioned to June. “Go on, you can light the candle now.”

  June set the small stick aflame.

  Jeremiah stretched to see the candle being lit.

  Thomas’s face glowed with adoration as he watched the two little ones.

  The candlelight flickering on their petite round faces was a beautiful sight.

  Thomas reached for Margaret’s hand and held it tight. Then he began to sing in a smooth tenor. “Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.”

  Margaret joined him in perfect harmony. “Praise Him, all creatures here below.”

  A loud crash made everyone stop singing.

  Elizabeth stood. One of mama’s good glasses lay shattered at her feet. She didn’t move but stared blankly at the rest of the family. Then she turned and walked toward their bedroom.

  Mrs. Logan buried her face in her hands.

  “Come on now, let’s sing.” Papa said, lifting his mighty bass voice. “Praise Him above, ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Margaret pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to Mama. “She’ll be all right, Mama. She’s just got a case of the blues, that’s all.”

  Mama leaned into Margaret’s embrace. She spoke softly so the others wouldn’t hear, but Thomas was so close he probably heard. Her words sounded heavy, desperate, hopeless. “She’s not all right, Margaret, and she’s not getting any better like we thought she would. She won’t ever be all right again.”

  Could Mama be right? Was there no hope for poor Elizabeth? Her stomach tied itself in knots thinking about having to lock her away as they’d done to Papa’s cousin Emma. But she couldn’t think about it…not now with Thomas leaving in a few weeks. Margaret would do everything in her power to insure that her last days with Thomas would be a time they would remember…forever.

  18

  Margaret’s legs seemed to turn to butter with every kiss Thomas placed on the back of her neck. Had they not been busy preparing a meal, she’d welcome his kisses. But there was cornbread to make and it wasn’t getting done with all the tomfoolery going on. “Thomas Murphy, if you don’t pay attention, you’ll never learn how to make hot-water cornbread.” She turned, smiled, and put her hand up to her neck where his lips had been.

  “I’m sorry, lass, but I can’t help myself.” He kissed her forehead.

  “Well, you need to behave.” She wagged a finger at him.

  “OK, OK, so why do ye call it hot-water cornbread? I’ve never heard of that before.”

  “Because, regular cornbread calls for eggs, and since there are no eggs on the entire peninsula, we have to make hot-water cornbread. It doesn’t call for eggs.”

  “Aye, I see. And does it call for sugar?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Because we have a fair amount of that, lass.”

  She shook her head at his silly pun, but couldn’t help smiling. “Now stop it. We’re ready to pour the boiling water over the cornmeal and lard. Measure out three quarters of a cup, and I’ll add the salt.”

  Thomas poured the steaming hot liquid over the ingredi
ents in the bowl. The lard melted into a puddle. “What shall I do now, mix it together?”

  “Yes.” She handed him a spatula. “It’ll be sticky, but do your best to get it mixed.”

  A good amount of lard was being heated in the iron skillet. Margaret took the long-handled spoon from the spoon rest and stirred the big pot of black-eyed peas. She scooped out a small spoonful and set it to cool.

  “Are ye hungry? Setting out a bit of those peas for yerself, are ye?”

  “No, I need to have a taste to see if they’re done.”

  “Well, go on then.”

  “I don’t want to burn my mouth. They’re boiling hot!”

  “You’ve got a point there.” He slapped the top of his cornbread dough ball with the spatula. “Seems to be well mixed, lass. What shall I do with it now?”

  “You need to separate a small amount at a time and form it into cakes.”

  “Ye mean I have to put my hands into this sticky mess?”

  “Aye, laddie, ye do.” She giggled.

  “So now yer going to mock the way I talk, are ye?” Thomas pulled the spatula out of the gooey mixture and poked it at her.

  Margaret hopped around the kitchen. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so hard.

  Thomas backed her into the cabinets, taunting her.

  “Don’t you get that sticky thing on my clothes, Thomas Murphy. I don’t want to have to change my dress.”

  “Well, fine then. I won’t get it on yer dress.” Thomas touched the tip of her nose and lips. “Here, let me get that off ye.” He wiped the spot of mixture on his trouser leg. “I think I missed a bit.”

  The kiss that followed caused Margaret’s entire body to quiver. She wished it would never end.

  A bothersome whistle rattled the kitchen windows.

  “I’m afraid yer water kettle is boiling again, lass.” Thomas pulled away, grinning.

  Margaret rushed to the stove. “I guess I forgot to turn off the burner.” She touched her fingers to a warm cheek, all but ashamed of what she felt inside. She smoothed out her skirt and got back to the task at hand. “Ok, you can make the cornbread cakes, and I’ll fetch the chow-chow from the pantry.”

  “What on earth is chow-chow?”

  “You’ve never had chow-chow? It’s relish for the peas. You’ll love it.”

  “Somehow, I don’t doubt that. I seem to be falling in love with almost everything in this kitchen.”

  Margaret put a palm to her hot cheek. Surprise turned to relief and she smiled. She disappeared into the pantry.

  ~*~

  “Margaret, Thomas, that was a mighty fine meal.” Papa scooted his chair back and rested his hands on his belly.

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “Aye, thank ye, but yer daughter did most of the work. I did make a fine mess of yer kitchen though.”

  Mama, June, and Papa laughed.

  But as of late, Elizabeth sulked and pushed black-eyed peas around on her plate instead of joining in the fun.

  Margaret couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her sister’s laugh. She sighed and put her hand over Thomas’s. “That’s not true. You cooked the cornbread all by yourself.”

  “It was good too.” June patted her tummy.

  “Why, thank ye, June.”

  Margaret stood and clapped her hands together. “OK, everyone, it’s time to begin our second week of Advent.”

  Jeremiah clapped his hands.

  June jumped up from her chair. “Come on, everybody. It’s time to light the candles!”

  Margaret hung behind with Mama, waiting for Elizabeth, who remained in her seat, staring at the plate of food. She hadn’t taken a bite. Mama put her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Come on, Elizabeth, let’s go celebrate Advent. It will be fun.”

  Elizabeth scooted her chair back before Mama could get out of the way.

  “Careful now, Elizabeth, you almost knocked Mama over,” Papa said from the doorway.

  Without acknowledging Papa, Elizabeth joined the rest of the family. She sat outside the circle everyone had made around the Advent wreath and candles.

  Margaret took a seat next to Thomas and reached for the Bible that was already set out. “OK, Thomas, remind everyone what this week is supposed to be about.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “The second week of Advent is to remember Bethlehem and the love of God in sending His Son to save us.”

  Margaret opened the Bible. “This week, we’ll be reading from the book of Luke, chapter two, verses eight through fourteen.” She began reading. “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” She closed the Bible. “Thomas, will you say the prayer for us this evening?”

  “Of course I will.” He blessed their family and the holiday with a heartfelt prayer.

  Papa lit a small stick and returned to the table. He took Jeremiah’s hand and placed the burning stick in it. Jeremiah’s eyes were wide in silent awe as he lit the first and second candles.

  The whole family joined in, deciding what song to sing with this scripture.

  Elizabeth rose and went out the front door.

  Mama turned to Papa, her lip quivering. “What are we gonna do, Jeb?”

  Papa stood and blew out the candles.

  Jeremiah looked as though he would cry, but instead poked out his bottom lip and pouted.

  “Let’s put this away for tonight. I’ll go after Elizabeth and try to figure out what’s going on inside that head of hers.” Papa seemed grim.

  “Thank you, Jeb.” Mama said the words through sniffles and tears. “June, will you help me put these candles and such away?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Don’t worry about the kitchen, Mama. Thomas and I will do the cleaning. Won’t we, Thomas?” Margaret smiled at her beau.

  “Of course, ma’am, we’ll take care of it. Don’t ye worry about a thing.”

  “But, but you two already cooked the meal. You shouldn’t have to do the cleaning too.” Tears trickled down Mama’s cheeks.

  “It’ll be all right, Mama. We’ll get through this. Remember that scripture you always quoted to me when I was going through my bad times?” Mama nodded and Margaret smiled. “Say it with me.”

  “Greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world.”

  Mama put her hand on Margaret’s. “I know those words are true, but everything seems so hopeless with Elizabeth.”

  “I know, Mama. I’ll talk to her and see if I can smooth things over. It’s me she has bad feelings for, so I’m the one who should talk to her.”

  “I want you to be careful what you say around her, Margaret. I’m afraid for her. She don’t seem...right, you know, in her mind.”

  Fear and sadness welled up inside Margaret. Something she’d been thinking about for weeks sailed to the front of her mind and wouldn’t go away. Everyone is in agreement. Something is seriously wrong with Elizabeth.

  19

  “Elizabeth, I’m coming in.” Margaret called before she opened the door. Elizabeth sat at the old oak desk between their two beds. She had a pencil in her hand and was writing in her journal.

  Margaret eased over to her bed and fluffed the pillows before sitting on the edge, facing her sister.

  Elizabeth stopped writing and turned toward her. Margaret couldn’t believe what she was seeing…Elizabeth was smiling at her.

  She instantly felt re
lief at the warm reception. “What are you writing?” Margaret asked, hoping in her heart that this was the beginning of a turning point for her sister.

  “It’s a poem I wrote about the war. I wrote it for Mr. Langley. I thought it might make him feel better. He gets very sad, you know.”

  Margaret couldn’t help but notice how Elizabeth’s voice didn’t even sound like her own. There was simply too much happiness for this to be her sister talking.

  “That’s very sweet of you, Elizabeth.” Margaret put her fists on the bed, bracing herself. “I’m also very proud of how you’ve been going to help Mr. Langley with his son. I’m sure it’s not easy caring for him without anyone to help him. He’s very lucky to have you.”

  Elizabeth didn’t acknowledge what she’d said. “Would you like to read my poem? I think it’s really good.” Elizabeth talked over Margaret.

  “I’m sure it is, and I’d love to read it, but first I’d like to talk to you.”

  Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and went back to writing.

  Margaret took a deep breath as she approached the touchy subject. “Elizabeth…even though I’m proud of how you’ve helped Mr. Langley, I’m also worried about the way you’ve been acting lately.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t look at Margaret when she answered and continued writing. “I don’t think I’ve been acting any differently than I always have. I’m fine…actually, I feel better than ever.”

  At this moment Elizabeth did seem fine.

  “Yes, you do seem fine…now, but lately you’ve been so sharp with everyone, even Mama and Papa, and you run off to the Langleys’ without telling anyone where you’re going. It’s just not proper behavior for a young woman. When you went missing during the raid, I thought, well, to tell the truth, I thought it would be the end of Mama.”

  “Well, you can believe me when I say I was perfectly safe with Mr. Langley. But I know. I haven’t been treating Mama and Papa with the respect they deserve.”

  Margaret was finally getting through to her, so she continued on. “And it makes me sad that you seem so upset about my relationship with Thomas. Why can’t you be happy for us…especially after all I’ve been through since Jeffrey was killed?”