Northern Light (9 page)

He folded his arms and watched a seagull take wing and fly across the slough. “I’ve asked myself that many a time after what happened to my family and my homeland. There was so much death and betrayal and people unwilling to help their fellow man. It’s enough to make anyone question God.”

“Oh, my heavens, you know so much about me and I hardly know a thing about you. Please tell me about your family…about Ireland.”

This sudden interest in him thrilled Thomas, and excitement filled his heart as he turned and straddled the log so he could face her. “Goodness, where do I start? I suppose you know about the great hunger in Ireland.”

“Oh yes, Papa read the story in the paper to Mama and me. Such a horrible thing.”

“After my baby sister, Elizabeth, died from the fever, Mam didn’t last very long after that. I’ve a feeling she starved herself to death so we could eat.”

Margaret clasped her hands over her mouth. She was going to cry again. “You lost your mama and your sister? That’s so sad, Thomas. Were they all you had?” Tears streamed down her face.

“No, I still had my pap and two brothers. We were just boys then. Not as feisty as we once were due to the famine. But nevertheless, we had to bury our dead. And since we had no money, we were evicted from our cottage and had nowhere to go.”

Margaret wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “What did you do?”

“Like so many other homeless families, we were put on boats and promised five pounds from an agent when we arrived at our destination. Fifty-three days later, we found ourselves in Montreal, Canada.

“Oh, lass, it was a horrible trip indeed with all the fever, retching, and dysentery. I had no idea how bad things really were until we got off the boat and saw my dead countrymen stacked like cordwood on the banks of the St. Lawrence. And, of course, there was no agent to be found. It was just a story we were told. So we were put into temporary shacks with loads of other families, or what was left of them.”

Margaret wiped her cheeks and put her hand over his. “It must have been awful for you. How could you possibly bear it?”

Thomas slid his other hand on top of hers. “I don’t think I would be here today, had it not been for a missionary by the name of Leeland Montgomery. He said he heard about what the Irish had been through and came from New York City to help. Bless him, he brought hearty soup and bread and nursed as many of us as he could back to health. Then he shared the gospel with us and I learned the true love of God. That night, our bellies were filled with the milk of human kindness and our souls were filled with the Spirit.”

“You mean you didn’t know Jesus before then…what about your mama and baby sister?”

“After the famine and their deaths, I decided I didn’t want anything to do with religion. So yes, my mam and sister are safe in Jesus’s arms, but in my pain and anger I refused to believe. Praise God, Mr. Montgomery found me when he did. I’ve been serving the Lord ever since.”

She rubbed his hand. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Thomas. It’s amazing how you can be so cheerful of heart after having been through so much in your life.”

“Aye, it’s the grace of God, lass.”

“So how did you end up in America?”

“After we regained our strength, Pap refused to live under British rule another day, so the four of us walked all the way from Canada to New York.” Thomas enjoyed the dimples that graced her cheeks when she smiled.

“And now you’re an Irish Yankee living in the Deep South.”

“I can’t imagine a nicer place to live, lass. If it weren’t for you and yer folks, I’d probably be dead on that beach.” He gestured toward the bay. “Thankfully, yer mama and papa are good, God-fearing people with love for their fellow man. They seem to do everything right.”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas looked longingly into her violet eyes. “Well, they certainly have raised a mighty wonderful and beautiful daughter.”

Color rose in Margaret’s cheeks. Her hand went to her throat.

He’d embarrassed her, and for that, he was sorry.

She rose from the log. “I really must get in the house. I’m sure Mama will be needing my help soon.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause ye any pain.”

“No, no, it’s all right. I just need to go inside for now.”

“Please forgive me, lass.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Thomas…really. And thank you for sharing with me about your family. I just need time to think through some things.” Margaret walked toward the house.

There were chores he needed to tend to, but there was something far more important that needed done first. He sat back down on the log and bowed his head.
Father God, I know everything Ye do is for a purpose, and I know Yer the one who brought me here. I’m so thankful You’ve given me yet another chance at life and the opportunity to help these fine people with their land. Now, I don’t claim to know everything You’d have me do, Lord, but I do know I’m falling hard for Miss Margaret Logan. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before, and I need Ye to lead me in how I am to proceed with her. Father, if it’d be Yer will, would Ye show me the right way to court this lovely lass? And bless my father and brothers too. In Yer Son’s name…amen.

Nanny Sue was bleating loud enough to wake the dead.

“I’m a comin’, girl. I’m a comin’.” Thomas pushed off the log to finish his work.

11

“OK, it’s time to go now, June.”

The little girl dramatically let her head flop back, rolled her eyes, and huffed out a long sigh. “Oh, Mama, I just sat down here to play with Jer’miah.” She gestured toward her baby brother.

He cooed at his sister as he chewed on a wooden block.

“You’re always wantin’ me to play with Jer’miah so you can get the housework done, and now that I’m finally doing it, you want me to go chasing…”

“Shhhhhh!” Mama cut off June’s complaint. “Miss Priss, I don’t need any of your backtalk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The little girl headed toward the door. “Well, here I go.” She gave Mama an irritated look.

Margaret couldn’t help but smile at her melodramatic little sister.

“Thank you, June. Now…off you go.” Mama waved her out the door.

The screen slammed shut.

Margaret joined Jeremiah on the floor.

Mama went to her rocking chair and picked up the mending basket.

Margaret handed Jeremiah a block he tossed at her. “So…what was that all about?”

Mama picked a dark blue cotton pinafore from the basket. She held it up. “This fabric is still in good shape. I think with a few alterations I can make it into a nice pair of overalls for Jeremiah.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Mama.” Margaret held Jeremiah’s little hands and helped him stand.

Mama rummaged through her box of sewing supplies and removed a pair of scissors. “I don’t think your papa would want his little boy having a layer of lace covering his shoulders. And, Margaret…every single thing that goes on around this house isn’t your business. Understand me?”

Margaret felt her face grow warm. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Jeremiah tottered over to Mama’s chair and laid his head down. “I guess it’s that time, isn’t it, son.” She pulled the little one onto her lap and began rocking him. Within moments, Jeremiah was asleep. Mama held him out to Margaret.

Margaret took him to Mama and Papa’s bed.

“I won’t be able to finish the mending.” Mama sighed. “I need to get supper ready.”

The screen door banged against the frame.

“Mama,” June called as she walked into the kitchen. “I stood at the edge of the property and watched Lizbeth till I couldn’t see her no more.”

“June, you need to talk much quieter. Margaret just put Jeremiah down for a nap.”

“Oh, sorry, Mama.”

Mama asked June a question, but Margaret couldn’t hear what she said.

“No, Mama, she didn’t go to the fort. She kept right on walking all the way down the road.”

“I’m very proud of the good job you did,” Mama told June.

“Thank you. Can I have that biscuit and honey you promised me now?”

“You sure can. Let’s go fetch you one.”

Margaret came to the kitchen. “Mama…June…did I hear you two talking about spying on Elizabeth?”

“Be quiet, Margaret. It’s a secret, and you don’t know nothin’ about it. Mama’s giving me my biscuit!”

Mama took the biggest biscuit on the tray, sliced it open, and slathered the insides with honey. She then handed it to June.

“Mama, can I go outside and play in the garden?”

“Sure you can.” Mama smiled at her.

“Mr. Murphy is working out there, so don’t be a pest,” Margaret called to her.

“I won’t,” June said with a mouth full of biscuit, skipping out the back door.

“Mama, if you wanted to know where Elizabeth has been running off to, you should have just asked me.”

“Well, I guess I’ve been dealing with the wrong little spy.”

~*~

“Mama, I’m worried about Elizabeth. I suppose I should have told you sooner.”

“What is it, Margaret?”

“It all happened a few weeks ago when I stumbled across Thomas in the garden. I was still mad that you and Papa let him come here. We had a huge argument and I stormed off to the bay. Do you remember that happening?”

“I remember. You didn’t see another soldier, did you?” Mama picked up two eggs, a bowl, and a whisk and sat down at the kitchen table.

“No, I just needed to collect my thoughts…and cool my temper.” Margaret scooped up the right amount of cornmeal for the cornbread she knew Mama would prepare for their meal. “Anyway, I came up on the Stoltze place and noticed Necie doing the wash.”

“Oh, how are the Stoltzes doing?”

“It doesn’t sound as if they’re doing very well, Mama. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you sooner, but I told Necie you would come and check in on them.”

“That’s all right. I’ll pay them a visit later this week.” Mama tapped the egg on the edge of the bowl, splitting the shell.

“I talked to Necie about some things, and she told me that Elizabeth had come by earlier that day. She said Elizabeth comes by quite often…on her way to…the Widower Langley’s place.”

“What on earth is she doing going there?” Mama stared at Margaret, her expression startled.

“I don’t know, Mama.” Margaret shrugged. “Maybe she’s helping Mr. Langley take care of his son.”

“I suppose that could be the case, but why wouldn’t she tell me about it?” Mama stirred the mixture. “It’s not right, her sneaking off. She’s keeping secrets…but why?”

They were silent for a bit.

“Mama, why does Mr. Langley’s son act the way he does? He scares me half to death with the way he screams all the time. I don’t even walk past that house anymore because he shouts those horrible words out the window every time anyone goes by. Is it because he’s upset about losing his arm and legs?”

Mama shook her head. “No, honey, it’s not that.”

“Then what would make him act like that?”

“When they brought Johnny home, everything was fine. He’d lost his limbs, but at least he still had his life. Most of the boys fighting weren’t so blessed.” She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and sighed. “But then an infection set in and he took a high fever. Mrs. Wallace told me women came from all over the peninsula to try and help bring the fever down. And they finally did manage to cool him off, but it was already too late.”

“What do you mean it was too late? He’s still alive.”

“Yes, but the brain can’t handle being that hot, and now he’s touched in the head.”

“So he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he says that stuff?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Sadness draped over Margaret like a heavy blanket. “Poor Mr. Langley, he’s lost everything—his wife died, his other son died…”

“And now he’s left to take care of Johnny on his own. Maybe we should take a lesson from Elizabeth and see what we can do to help.”

“I know, Mama. I feel bad for thinking Elizabeth was up to no good.” Margaret cringed inwardly from her silent accusations of Elizabeth shirking chores.

“I do too, baby. I do too.”

Mama finished preparing the cornbread batter.

Margaret coated the cast-iron skillet with lard. She lit the stove to melt the fat before lighting the oven. “I need to talk to you about something, Mama.”

“What is it, dear?” Mama poured the contents of the bowl into the warm skillet.

“Well, that day in the garden when Thomas and I had, um, words, he told me that I might understand how bad slavery was if I actually talked to a slave.”

“Yes…and?”

“I told you I talked to Necie.”

“Uh-huh, and what did she say?”

“She told me the Stoltzes treat her real nice.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Stoltze are good people. I wouldn’t expect they’d be mean to anyone.”

“Yes, but then she told me how she ended up with Mr. and Mrs. Stoltze.” Margaret sat down. “She had horrible things done to her before she came here. Did you know she was sold here from Louisiana just before she was going to jump the broom with a slave named Moses? Do you even know what that means, Mama?”

“Yes, I do know what jumping the broom means.” Mama grabbed a chair and looked up at the ceiling before turning her attention back to Margaret. “Honey, slavery can be horrible. I saw firsthand how awful it was when you were just little bitty. Papa and I traveled into New Orleans to pick up supplies for the lighthouse at the French Quarter.

“He parked the buggy right next to the place on the river where they held the slave auctions. I stayed with you while he went in to pick up the packages. I’ll never forget the pitiful wailing and weeping coming from the cages where they’d locked up the Negroes. They were told to line up so buyers could inspect them like cattle.” Mama sat down in the chair. “There were three young girls up on the auction block. I was sure they were sisters by the way they clung to one another. One seemed to be your age and the two others, about Elizabeth’s age, I would guess. They were pretty little things all dressed up in gingham dresses and bonnets. I found out later the owners cleaned up the slaves and gave them nice clothes so they would bring more money at auction.