“What’d you want?” The old man’s eyes revealed his misgivings. His thick accent fell harsh on Thomas’s ears.
It took Thomas a moment to collect his thoughts. “Ah, yes. I’m looking for my pa…my father. I used to live here with him. His name is Darby Murphy.”
The look of suspicion melted from the man’s face and he smiled. “Well, that must make you either Thomas or Jonathan then.” He opened the door all the way and took Thomas’s arm, ushering him inside. “Come in, come in. You’re letting all the warm air out.”
Thomas stepped inside the house. “The name’s Thomas Murphy, sir. Jonathan’s my brother.”
The door was shut behind him. It was unclear how the man could possibly know his or his brother’s name, but he was sure to find out soon enough.
The man looked Thomas up and down and rubbed his chin. “Thomas, eh? Well, you’re mighty tall compared to your father. But you have that same Irish accent, that’s for sure.”
“Excuse me, sir. Ye sure seem to know a lot about me, but I haven’t a clue who you are.”
The man walked as if it pained him to get around.
Thomas followed him to the small kitchen table near the fire. He pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Well, of course, you don’t; my apologies. The name’s Gorski, Edward Gorski. But you can call me Ed.” He moved to the stove and put a kettle on to boil.
Thomas looked around the familiar surroundings and found the source of the divine aroma.
“Son, don’t you worry about your father. As best I know, he’s fine.”
A wave of relief flooded Thomas’s heart despite the fact that his father so obviously wasn’t living here. Where had he and Michael gone? He tapped impatient, cold fingers on the table. “So can ye tell me where my pap is, Mr. Gorski?”
Mr. Gorski waved off Thomas’s question. “Just hold up there, young fellow. Let me make some coffee to warm your insides, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The coffee did sound wonderful. There was probably no use rushing Mr. Gorski. He lifted his hands toward the fire, careful not to touch the slab of meat dangling from the hearth. The smell of the meat so close to his face was intoxicating.
After a few moments Mr. Gorski brought two mugs of coffee to the table. “Good ol’ cup of coffee will warm you up. Oh, be careful of that pastrami—it’s going on display in my shop window tomorrow.” He set a mug in front of Thomas and placed the other on the table. He was about to sit in the chair, but jumped up. “Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot.”
Gorski went to the countertop next to the stove. He dug through a stack of papers, looking for something. “Ah, here it is.” He pulled out an envelope and brought it back to the table.
The envelope was plain and white with Thomas’s name written on the front in ink. Thomas reached for it, recognizing his father’s writing. “It’s from my pap.”
“Yes, sir, he left it with me before he moved on. But I’ll let you read about that for yourself.”
Thomas opened the flap, removed the letter, and began to read.
Dear Thomas, if you’re reading this letter, then you went to the old house before going to the naval office. I left a letter for you with them as well so you would be sure and receive the message. I won’t go into detail here, but Michael and I have moved up to Massachusetts. I pray that you will come to us as soon as you are able. Inquire for Michael at Massachusetts General Hospital in order to find us. Love, Pap.
“What on earth are they doing in Massachusetts? And why should I inquire at the hospital for them?”
His words were more for himself than Mr. Gorski, but the old man answered him anyway. “Well, I can’t say that I actually knew your father. I took over his lease when he moved out. He left that letter with me and asked that I give it to you, should you show up.” He took a sip from his mug. “Heavens, that’s been almost eight months ago.”
“Eight months…they’ve been gone for eight months?” He released a long, mournful sigh. He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been on the road for so long, and now I have to keep going all the way up to Boston?”
Mr. Gorski walked to an icebox and removed a bowl of butter and a plate of sliced meat and set them in front of Thomas. He then gathered a knife, a plate, and a basket covered with a piece of cheesecloth and returned to sit at the table.
When he uncovered the basket, the wonderful aroma of fresh sourdough bread wafted to Thomas’s nostrils.
Gorski took a slice and shoved the basket to him.
Thomas took a large piece and waited for his host to finish using the butter knife.
Gorski motioned toward the plate of meat. “Have yourself a big slab of that ham. My smoked meats are some of the best you’ve ever tasted. I guarantee it. Now, of course, I was able to get my hands on a lot more kinds of meat before the war, but that’s how it goes, I suppose.”
Thomas helped himself to some of the sweet-smelling ham. “Thank ye, sir. I’m much obliged.” He laid the piece of meat on top of the bread he’d smeared with butter.
“Well, I can tell you haven’t had much to eat by the way your clothes are hanging on your body. You’re too big a man to be so skinny. Reminds me of my grandson; probably around your age.”
The good food and warm coffee helped to soothe Thomas’s beleaguered disposition. “Yer grandson, eh, does he live close by?”
“Not anymore,” Mr. Gorski said quietly. “He was killed at Gettysburg back in sixty-three.”
~*~
By the time evening rolled around, Thomas had heard the entire history of Mr. Gorski’s family. After his daughter died in childbirth, he and his wife raised their grandson, and the three of them worked together in his butcher shop. He had to move into this place after a fire destroyed the apartment above his shop. Now with his grandson and wife gone, he was truly alone in the world.
Thomas stood up from the table and brushed sourdough crumbs from his trousers. “Mr. Gorski, I’m much obliged for yer kind hospitality, but I’m afraid I must be leaving now. I have a long way to go yet.”
Mr. Gorski took a sip of coffee. “Thomas, why don’t you sit back down. I have a proposition you might be interested in.”
25
Thomas accepted Mr. Gorski’s proposal of work in exchange for a bit of money and a place to rest up before continuing on to Boston. After only a short time training under Mr. Gorski, Thomas found himself proficient in the art of brining and smoking meats. It made for a good partnership. Thomas needed the money, the food, and a place to stay. And Mr. Gorski needed someone to talk to. And that’s what he did from daylight until dark.
As the weeks passed, a hole grew in Thomas’s heart. The absence of Margaret was unbearable. He needed her in his life…in his arms. Everywhere and everything reminded him of her. The purple robes portrayed on the stained glass in Mr. Gorski’s parish were the color of her violet eyes. Coals cooling in the fireplace were as black as her raven hair. Even the fresh milk delivered to the butcher shop reminded him of Margaret’s porcelain-colored skin.
It didn’t help Thomas that New York was overflowing with war widows. The women who came in Gorski’s shop were desperate to share their tales of loss with him. He listened out of sympathy.
Thomas was ready to leave. He waited for the right time to break the news to Mr. Gorski.
The two men chatted as dusk drew near. They ate cheese and bread and drank strong coffee. They laughed and talked about family and friends.
Thomas backed his chair away from the table, full and satisfied. “Well, Ed, I can’t thank ye enough for taking me in when I needed the rest. But I’m afraid the time has come for me to move on now.”
Mr. Gorski rubbed his rough thumb on the handle of his coffee mug. “I was afraid you would say that. Can’t say I didn’t know it was coming. I’m sure you’re anxious to see your family though.” He looked at Thomas eye to eye. “When are you thinking about heading up north?”
“Soon, I’m afraid. I’
m anxious to get up to Boston and see my pap and brother. But honestly, sir, I’m more eager to head back to Texas and hold my Margaret in my arms.”
The older man chuckled and lifted his coffee mug to him. “Can’t say that I blame you, son.”
On the day he left, Thomas had so many farewells to say to all the nice people he’d met in New York, it seemed he would never get away. He hugged his elderly savior and promised to come back again someday. With Mr. Gorski’s gift of a huge package of smoked meat thrown over his shoulder, Thomas went on his way.
~*~
The sun was beginning to set by the time Thomas arrived at the address he was given at Massachusetts General Hospital.
It took a minute for Thomas’s father to realize who was standing at his door. Tears formed in his eyes and he openly wept as he took Thomas in his arms.
Pap looked as if he’d aged twenty years since Thomas had last seen him. Obviously, the months of not knowing either of his two eldest sons’ fates had taken a toll on him.
“Let me look at ye, son.” The older Mr. Murphy held Thomas at arm’s length.
“It’s so good to see ye, Pap.”
Pap pulled away, put his arm around Thomas’s back, and led him inside the house. “I can’t believe yer actually here. That means the old man saved the letter I wrote you and Jonathan.”
Thomas smiled and nodded his head. “Yep, he sure did.”
The pair moved to the table and sat down.
Thomas put his pack of meat and belongings down.
Pap held one of Thomas’s hands in both his own across the table. “I truly didn’t think I’d ever be seeing you again, Thomas.” He picked up a stack of papers and handed it to Thomas.
Thomas’s heart sank when he read the endless list of soldiers still unaccounted for—his name and his older brother Jonathan’s name were among the missing.
They mourned their loss together. Thomas prayed with Pap, pleading beyond any hope that there was a chance his brother had somehow survived. But he knew in his heart that it was a pure miracle that he had managed to stay alive.
“Pap, I’d prefer not to tell ye, but I was shot off a boat as well. All the way down off the coast of Texas.”
“Is that so?” Pap ran his hand through a thinning shock of red hair. “Is Texas really as big as they say it is?”
“Believe me…I had to make my way across most of it, and let me tell ye, it’s big, all right.” He took a coffee mug from the kitchen counter. The smell of coffee drew him to the warm pot sitting on the stove. “Pap, I need to talk to ye about a couple things.”
“Pour me a cup while yer up, son.”
Thomas poured his father a cup of coffee.
“So what’s on yer mind, boy?”
“Well, ye already know I was shot and fell off the boat, but what ye don’t know is that if it weren’t for a family by the name of Logan, I wouldn’t be here to tell ye about it.”
“Is that right? If ye would tell me where they live, I’d be most willing to send them my thanks.”
“Yes, of course, but there’s more.” He scratched his ear. “Pap, the Logans live on a little strip of land called the Bolivar Peninsula, way down on the coast of Texas. Mr. Logan is a trained lighthouse keeper, but the light was torn down at the beginning of the war. Mr. and Mrs. Logan have four children. The oldest of the bunch is named Margaret. And…and…I’ve fallen in love with her, Pap.” There, he had said it.
Pap looked off into the distance and slowly nodded his head.
“I intend to earn some money and buy her a ring. I’m going to ask her to marry me, Pap.”
Pap rubbed his jaw. “Well, if ye love her, I suppose that’s what ye have to do then.”
Thomas stood to hug his father.
The door swung open.
Michael looked at Thomas and his jaw dropped. He ran inside and put his arms around Thomas so tight he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe my eyes. You’re really here in the flesh. It’s so good to see ye, brother.”
When Michael released his firm grip, Thomas hugged him and patted him on the back. Thomas let go and took a long, thorough look at his younger brother. “For heaven’s sake, when did this happen?”
“What is that, brother?”
“When did my little brother grow into a man?”
Michael chuckled. “Oh, go on now.”
“And look at this hairy chin on ye.” Thomas rubbed his younger brother’s scraggly beard.
“All right, you two have a seat. Thomas just arrived and I have a whole passel of questions.”
Through Thomas’s stories, Pap and Michael learned much about the Logan family. They laughed with gusto at his telling of June and Jeremiah’s antics. They were saddened to hear the not-so-happy tale of Elizabeth’s betrayal. Thomas didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say the poor girl had a problem with her mind. But the one they heard the most about was his beautiful Margaret and how he pined after her and longed to marry her.
Pap made fresh coffee and set out a dish of rolls.
Thomas cut up some of the fine meats Mr. Gorski sent with him. Sitting around the table with Pap and Michael warmed Thomas’s heart. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought that the three of them were more than likely all that remained of the Murphy family. Thomas rubbed his fingers along the smooth grain of the bare wooden table while answering an abundance of questions from Pap and Michael. Then it was his turn to ask the questions. “So tell me, Michael, how is it that you and Pap came to live in Boston?”
“Go on, Michael, tell him.” Pap looked proud as a peacock, gesturing to his youngest son.
“Oh, stop it now, Pap.” He turned to Thomas. “Ye know I was working at DeCamp Hospital in New York.” Michael looked away for a moment. When he turned back, the look on his face revealed his mind had visited a very dark place. “That was a mighty bloody place, to be sure. Anyway, I learned so much from the doctors I worked with there that one of them, Dr. William Mills, thought it would be to my benefit if I could train with the professional surgeons here at Massachusetts General. So he made the arrangements.” He stopped a brief moment and laughed. “But to my surprise, I found that I had much to teach the surgeons here of what I’d learned working on the injured coming from the front lines.”
“You always were the smart one of the bunch.”
“So when are you and this woman of yours going to get married?”
Thomas smiled at how his brother referred to Margaret. “I promised her I’d come back as soon as I looked in on my family.”
“Aw, ye don’t have to rush off now, do ye?” Michael reached over and squeezed Thomas’s shoulder.
“No, no, I don’t plan to leave right away.” Thomas reached for his coffee mug. Now that he knew his family’s fate, he wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he knew he couldn’t do that to his pap. “Maybe the two of you can show me around this big old town.”
The three men talked deep into the night. The night turned to day and the days turned to weeks.
One day, Thomas’s heart told him it was time to leave.
His father and brother hated to see him go, but they understood him wanting to return to Texas and the woman he loved and intended to marry. They made him promise he would return someday soon with his bride. With his back pay from the Navy in hand, he set out for Texas.
26
April 16, 1865, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
It was by no means reminiscent of the Easter feasts Margaret remembered from the past before the war broke out. But considering all they’d been through, especially in the past seven months since Thomas came into her life, she was thankful to have the hearty fish stew. There were many who were much less fortunate than the Logan family, so she faithfully prayed for them when she lifted daily prayers for Thomas’s safe return.
Christmas had passed without the levity the season usually brought. They continued lighting the Advent candles in remembrance of Jesus…and in honor of Thomas.
&nbs
p; Oh, how Margaret missed the feel of his strong arms around her waist as he whispered the words I love you in her ear. New Year’s had come and gone without the brush of a midnight kiss from the one she loved. Then came the long months of icy, cold wind and rain that gripped the peninsula.
The little ones had been cooped up in the house so long they bolted at the first sign of spring. April’s mild weather summoned forth an overabundance of sweet-smelling wildflowers that beckoned the two youngest Logans from the confines of the house. They wasted no time in picking as many of the native beauties as they could. The house took on a whole different look with Mama’s water glasses filled with colorful flowers in every room.
Margaret watched her little brother and sister through the kitchen window as they played in the yard. The kitchen door flew open and banged against the wall. June and Jeremiah bounded inside. “Margaret, Margaret, look what me and Jer’miah made for you.”
“Whoa, slow down now.”
June smiled and batted her eyes as she presented Margaret with a whimsical crown they had laced together out of Indian blanket flowers.
“Aw, it’s so beautiful.” She took the braided flower wreath from June’s hands. “Say…would you two mind if I took the flowers in to Elizabeth with her dinner?”
“Well, we made it for you.” She turned to her little brother. “What do you think, Jer’miah? Should we let Margaret give the flowers to Elizabeth?”
The little boy looked up at his sisters. His sun-kissed cheeks glowed when he smiled at them. He nodded up and down without saying a word.
“Oh, thank you both so much. These beautiful flowers are sure to make Elizabeth perk right up. Don’t you think?”
“I sure hope so. Papa said that girl’s as low as a snake’s belly,” June pronounced.
“All right now, you two, better get back outside before Mama finds some chores for you to do.”
June’s eyes doubled in size. She grabbed Jeremiah by the hand and pulled him out the kitchen door. “See ya later,” she hollered before they disappeared from Margaret’s sight.
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