Northern Light

by Annette O'Hare

  “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.

  “Well, anyway, the oldest girl was sold to a local family as a nanny to their children. Then the two youngest girls were sold as a pair. The bidding went on for some time and ended with the girls being sold to a man from a sugar plantation way out in the country.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “The whole time I sat there and watched those three young sisters being split up and sold, I heard a woman who was still in the cage hollering and crying as if someone was tearing her heart out.

  “For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her until the girls were called off the auction block.” Mama released a labored breath. “They ran over to the woman and hugged her through that awful cage. Then I realized she was their mother and it probably did feel like her heart was being ripped out.

  “After that I held you so tight to my bosom because I knew how I would feel if someone had tried to take you away from me. Suppose that was the last time she would ever see her children? When Papa returned to the buggy, I told him what I’d seen and we vowed right then to never have anything to do with slavery. I know we’re taught here in the South that the Negroes aren’t good for anything but hard labor, but I don’t believe it.” Mama sniffed and wiped her eye with the edge of her apron.

  Margaret couldn’t stop the flood of tears. “Why haven’t you ever told me this before, Mama? Why didn’t you or Papa tell us kids how bad slavery is? You just let us believe what anyone has ever said about the Negroes.”

  “Margaret! I assumed you would realize we don’t condone the use of slaves. Papa refused to purchase any slaves to help with running the lighthouse. Your papa and I have always worked hard for what we have, without anyone’s help. So I ask you…what would make you think we would support such a horrible institution?”

  “Because, Mama, if we don’t condone slavery then—then my Jeffrey died in vain.”

  Mama rushed to Margaret’s side. She fell to her knees, swallowing her in a tight embrace. “Oh, Margaret, that’s just not true. Jeffrey died fighting for the South’s rights. You’ve got to believe that, honey.” Mama wept now too.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Everything I’ve ever believed in seems to have changed since Thomas came here.” Margaret sobbed. “I’m so confused.”

  Mama softly patted her back. “All right now, we’ll talk this whole thing out.” She rose from her kneeling position and straightened her skirt. “But first we need a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “Mama…I need to tell you something and it can’t wait for the pot to boil.”

  A look of deep concern washed over Mama’s face. “What is it?”

  “I think I’m falling in love with Thomas.”

  A smile crept across Mama’s face. “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t already know?”

  Margaret looked at her mama in complete disbelief.

  “Close your mouth, dear. You’ll catch flies.”

  “How could you possibly know my feelings about Thomas?”

  “Because, dear…” Mama turned to her. “I believe in the power of prayer.”

  “You know…you can be a very confusing mama at times.”

  “Dear daughter, when Jeffrey died, it broke my heart too. I hurt so bad for you, and then when we moved away from New Orleans, you were torn up all the more. I’ve prayed every night since Jeffrey died that God would provide another man for you. Someone you could give your love to and who would love you back.” She turned to face Margaret. “And when you found Thomas…I just knew he was the one God provided for you.”

  “But, Mama, why would God send a Yankee after all I’ve been through and when He knows I’ve always hated them?”

  “God has His ways of teaching us in our weakness. You don’t feel that hatred in your heart anymore, do you?”

  “No, ma’am.” Margaret couldn’t help the wondering tone of her voice. The hate was gone. “It’s strange, but I don’t. I hated everyone and everything in the North, and now I’m falling in love with a Yankee. God really does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t He, Mama?”

  “Yes, yes, He does.” Mama cranked the mill. “Enough talk about Thomas. We need to think about getting supper on. Papa took a pot of fish stew over to the fort. He should be back soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Margaret stood and pulled back the curtain, glancing out to catch a glimpse of Thomas. Lord, did You really send Thomas like Mama said?

  June was talking to Thomas.

  June Marie…there you go…pestering Thomas, just like I told you not to!

  “Mama, June is out there with Thomas. Should she come back in the house and let him finish his work?”

  “Just as soon as I put the coffee on, pull the cornbread out of the oven, and reheat the stew.”

  “I’ll go get her then.” Margaret started for the door.

  Jeremiah awakened from his nap and started to cry.

  “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll get him.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “Sissy’s coming, Jeremiah.”

  12

  Thomas found great joy in pulling the weeds around Mr. Logan’s Brussels sprouts. The physical task caused him pain, but the pleasure came from the normalcy of the chore. The earth in his hands and the smell of the fresh vegetables exhilarated him. These simple tasks differed so much from his time aboard ship. His job there was to intercept blockade runners and, if necessary, fire on his fellow man.

  June skipped through the rows of the fall garden.

  “Hello, June. What brings ye to the garden this fine day?”

  “Hello, Mr. Murphy. I’m keeping me busy since Mama and Margaret have some talking to do.” June stuffed the remnants of a biscuit into her mouth.

  “You’ve got a bit of honey right here on yer mouth.” Thomas pointed at his lips.

  June licked the spot and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Is it gone now?”

  “Ye did a good job, lass. Good thing yer papa has those honeybees or else you’d be eatin’ dry biscuits.”

  “Eww, I don’t want no dry biscuits!”

  “Well, ye must have done a mighty good deed to deserv
e one of yer mama’s delicious biscuits this soon before suppertime.”

  June pushed some soil around with her toe. “Oh, I don’t know. I s’pose you might say I’m one of Mama’s favorites.”

  “Of course ye are.” He chuckled and leaned close. “Can I tell ye a wee secret, lass?”

  “Sure, I like secrets.”

  He looked from side to side, pretending to make sure no one was listening. “Ye happen to be one of my favorites as well.”

  “I already knew that.” She plucked off a leaf and used it to point at Thomas. “I heard a secret about you too.”

  Thomas perked up at this revelation. “Did ye now? And just what sort of secret have ye heard about me, lass?”

  She used her leaf to touch Thomas on the chest with each word. “I heard you’re in love with Margaret.”

  Thomas hid his surprise. “Now where did ye hear such a thing as that?” Have I been so obvious in my feelings?

  “Why, Lizbeth told me, of course. She said that since you don’t have feelings for her, you’re obviously in love with Margaret.”

  Relief washed over Thomas that it wasn’t his actions that caused her assumptions.

  “Besides, anyone could tell you got feelings for Margaret by the way you act when you’re around her. I saw you lookin’ at her at the dinner table and how you couldn’t even talk when she asked if you would pass the mashed taters.” June mocked Thomas. “’I…I…I certainly can, lass.’” Then she giggled, causing red curls to bounce around her head.

  He had let his feelings show. He’d have to be more careful. He couldn’t get thrown out. If that happened…Margaret would never know how desperate he was for her to return the feelings he was harboring deep inside.

  June giggled.

  Thomas decided to turn the tables on her. “Here I am working in the garden, minding my own business, when ye come out here and tell me there are rumors afoot concerning me. Now what would yer mama think if she found out yer spreading gossip right here in front of the Brussels sprouts?”

  “You ain’t gonna tell Mama none of what I said, are you, Mr. Murphy?” June was anxious.

  “I suppose I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut.”

  “How?”

  “How about if ye keep quiet about what ye hear about me, and I’ll do the same for you.” Thomas stuck his hand out. “Is it a deal?”

  “It’s a deal.” She let go of his hand. “Mr. Murphy, if you court Margaret, you better tell Papa. Mama says that’s what boys do here in the South.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration, lass. But don’t ye think I might ought to ask Miss Margaret’s permission first?”

  “That might be a good idea.”

  The sound of gunfire cracked in the distance.

  Heavy steps came running up the property line.

  Thomas grabbed June and pushed her behind him.

  Mr. Logan ran around the shed and toward the house. Plumes of dust exploded from the dry ground with every step. “Thomas, take June and get in the house as quick as you can.”

  “Aye, sir, but what on earth has ye so worked up?”

  “It’s a raid. I saw a boatload of Union soldiers come ashore—they’re coming up the beach. Now grab the goat and take my daughter in the house while I gather some supplies!”

  Thomas didn’t question why Mr. Logan would want a goat inside the house. He ran to the pen, threw the lead rope around the animal’s neck, swept June up, and went inside the house.

  Margaret sat in the front room, holding Jeremiah in her lap, rocking back and forth in the chair, as tranquil as can be.

  “Mama, Mama, it’s a raid.” June jumped out of his arms and ran to the kitchen.

  ~*~

  “Are they coming this way?” Margaret sat up straight and stopped rocking, fear making her voice wobble and her heart pound.

  Jeremiah stiffened, then settled back into sleep.

  “I’m afraid so, lass. Tell me what needs to be done.”

  She hurried to Mama and Papa’s room to lay Jeremiah down and returned.

  Thomas was still holding on to Nanny Sue’s lead rope.

  “Quick, bring the goat. We’ll all hide in the pantry once they come onto our property.”

  Thomas followed her, tugging the protesting goat along behind him.

  Mama was gathering up anything of value and hauling it into the pantry with tears streaming down her face. She stopped, her gaze going blank, a hand rubbing her forehead.

  “Thomas, take Nanny Sue to the pantry and tie her to the hook on the back wall. Then go help Papa with what he needs. On your way back, snatch up some grass to keep Nanny Sue busy. June, run into Mama’s room and gather up a few toys for Jeremiah…we’re gonna need them when he wakes up.” Margaret hurried everyone along, aware that her mother was too stunned to think. “Mama, go get Jeremiah, and gather up whatever he’ll need to stay in the pantry.”

  Mama didn’t move. “I’ve got to get everything of value into the pantry or else they’ll steal what little we have left.”

  Margaret put her hands on her shoulders. “Mama, listen to me. We got through this before and this time we’re prepared for them. Now go…get Jeremiah.”

  Her mother nodded, wiped her eyes, and went to their room.

  Papa came into the house with his arms full of farming supplies. He dumped the load into Thomas’s arms. “Here, take these tools into the pantry.” Papa looked at Margaret. His gaze swept around the room. “They’re coming up over the dunes. Everything stored away?”

  “Yes, sir, as far as I can tell. What about Celia?”

  “She’ll have to fend for herself. Can’t rightly bring a donkey into the house.”

  “Can you think of anything else we’ll need, Papa?”

  “Just one more thing.”

  Papa left the room and returned with his rifle and powder flask. “All right, I want everyone in the pantry…now!”

  Thomas stood at the door of the pantry and helped everyone inside.

  “Papa, wait. Elizabeth’s not here.” Margaret gasped, her hand on the doorframe.

  “Oh, Lord, help us,” Mama cried from inside the pantry.

  Papa’s expression broke, as if his heart had melted inside. “She’s down at the Langley place again.”

  “You have to go get her, Jebediah.” Mama’s cries filled the pantry.

  Papa ran to the kitchen door. “I don’t see her coming up from the bay.”

  Thomas took a look out the front window. “She’s not coming from this way either, but the soldiers are up to the property line.” He went and stood beside Papa. “I’ll go and fetch her for ye, Mr. Logan.”

  “No,” Margaret screamed. “You can’t go out there. If the soldiers don’t kill you, the neighbors will.”

  Thomas turned to her.

  Their gazes locked.

  She must have looked like a crazed woman.

  But in his eyes, she only saw love.

  “She’s right, Thomas. You can’t go out there, and I’m not leaving this family. If she stays at Langley’s place, she’ll be fine. The old man has an arsenal of weapons at hand. We’ll have to deal with Elizabeth when this is over. Now everyone get in the pantry.”

  Margaret moved to the back of the room and sat down on the wood floor. June stood trembling in the middle of the pantry. Margaret held her hands out. The little girl crawled into her lap and buried her face against her chest.

  After the last raid, Papa had knocked out the wall between the pantry and the linen closet. There was so much more room now.

  “Give me a hand, Thomas.”

  He pressed the sheet of wood against the door. Papa pulled a nail from his pocket and hammered it into the wall in case the lock didn’t hold. He drove a nail into each side of the wood. “I’ve got it from here. Go see to the women.”

  “Mrs. Logan, are ye all right back there?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, clutching her baby.

  Thomas sat down beside Margaret and June. He
pulled her head to his shoulder. “Everything will be all right, lass.”

  Margaret whispered to Thomas, “What if they find Elizabeth? What if they…?”

  “She’s in the Lord’s hands now. Let’s pray for her.”

  Thomas offered his hand and Margaret took it into hers. “I can’t pray.” She tried but couldn’t get the words out. “Will you?”

  “Of course I will.”

  While Thomas prayed a great and mighty hedge of protection over the family and also for Elizabeth’s safety, Papa drove nail after nail into the wood.

  Margaret held tight to Thomas’s strong hand, tears wetting her face as she stifled the desperate sobs. Even with Union soldiers invading their land, she felt safe inside the pantry with Thomas next to her. But an ache in her heart reminded her of one of the parables she’d learned as a child. Please, Lord Jesus, find Your lost sheep.

  13

  It was all she and Mama could do to keep everyone quiet when the small space included a baby, one rambunctious little girl, and a nanny goat. Margaret wasn’t sure what was worse, the lack of fresh air or the strong smell of a goat and six sweaty bodies inside the tiny room.

  Screams pierced the air outside, echoing through the pantry.

  Everyone froze, silence filling the small room.

  “Papa, we have to go out there. The Yankees have Elizabeth!” She buried her face in Thomas’s sleeve and sobbed. “She doesn’t sound right at all, Thomas. I know they’re doing something terrible to her.”

  Papa waved a hand toward Margaret. “Hush up! It doesn’t sound right because it’s not Elizabeth. Now listen close!”

  Thomas cupped his hand and whispered into Margaret’s ear. “He’s right, lass. Listen. Those are men screaming.”

  “How can you tell it’s men? It sounds like a bunch of schoolgirls.” Margaret tried to whisper, but the words came out loud. “What’s happening out there?”

  As quickly as the screaming started…it stopped.

  ~*~

  No more sounds came from beyond the pantry.

  It seemed as if an hour passed before Papa finally gave the word he was ready to open the door.