Northern Light

by Annette O'Hare

  “Thomas, would you hand me the hammer there beside you?” Papa asked.

  Thomas picked up the hammer and stood. “Don’t ye fret, sir. I’ll remove those nails for ye.”

  “All right then, I believe I’ll let you.” Papa moved out of Thomas’s way.

  The soldiers hadn’t come into the house.

  But Elizabeth was still somewhere out there.

  Thomas helped Margaret up from the floor as Papa pushed the pantry door open.

  When the door opened, June bolted from the pantry like a wild animal released from its cage.

  “June Marie Logan, get back in here now.” Terror sounded in Mama’s voice. Mama didn’t usually show fearfulness around the smaller children.

  “It’s OK. It’s all clear outside.” June stuck her nose in the air and sniffed extra loud. “Papa, I smell something burning!”

  Papa took Jeremiah and helped Mama up off the floor. “All right now, June, come back in here and gather up Jeremiah’s toys. You need to watch over him for a while.”

  Margaret stood in the kitchen, which appeared to be intact.

  As June danced back toward them, she suddenly screamed and grabbed her arm. Margaret and Thomas ran to her. Mama and Papa were right behind them.

  “What’s the matter?” Margaret asked as she knelt.

  June lifted her arm. A bee’s stinger was embedded in her flesh. “Something bited me!” June exclaimed. Her arm was swelling even as she cried.

  The dying honeybee twitched on the floor. Margaret mashed it with her foot.

  Mama took June’s hand, picked up Jeremiah, and disappeared into her and Papa’s bedroom.

  Papa wasted no time. “Thomas, help me close all the windows. Margaret, get some towels and stuff them under the doors. I know what those Yankees were screaming about. They tried to steal the hives and the bees are swarming!”

  Thomas jumped to action.

  Margaret followed suit, jamming towels under the thresholds of both doors. “Papa, it looks like the smoke from whatever they set on fire has the bees herded into one area at the west side of the yard,” Margaret called as she surveyed the back of the property.

  “You’re right. I don’t think I’ll even need the smoker.” He abandoned his preparation of the smoker and rubbed his chin. “OK, then…Thomas, gather up those garden tools and drag them back out to the shed. When you’re done, meet me out back. I need your help to find the queen and get her back into the hive. When she’s in place, the swarm should return.”

  “But, sir, how will we ever find one particular bee in that giant swarm?”

  “It’s not as hard as you think. One of her wings is clipped.” He gave Thomas a sideways grin. “She don’t fly so good.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrows and wasted no time getting the tools.

  Papa turned his attention to Margaret. “All right, I want you to unhitch Nanny Sue and take her back out to her pen. As soon as we get the queen back in the hive, you and Thomas can survey the damage outside. And for heaven’s sake, see what those Yankees set on fire.”

  “Yes, sir,” Margaret answered.

  Papa opened his bedroom door a crack.

  Mama was sitting on the bed, doctoring June’s bee sting.

  “Caroline, when I get the queen bee back inside the hive, you and I will make sure that Yankee vessel is gone, and then we’ll go find our daughter.”

  Tears slipped down Mama’s cheeks as she nodded.

  The dread Margaret had kept at bay returned with a vengeance.

  ~*~

  “Why would they burn our cotton?”

  Thomas heard the anguish in Margaret’s voice as he doused the charred cotton with water. “I don’t know, lass. It’s quite valuable up north. They could have sold it for much more than it’s worth…even used it for bandages.”

  “They burned it out of pure meanness.” Margaret tramped around beside the garden, kicking a rock. “We won’t have any money to trade with. And just look at the garden, they took everything!”

  “That’s not true, lass. They didn’t take those green ones over there. What’s yer papa call them, collard greens?”

  Margaret managed a snicker at his mangled pronunciation.

  “All right now, there ye go makin’ fun of the way I speak.” He smiled at her. “And look, they didn’t take the time to dig up those potatoes, and those plants over there growing up the fence line.”

  “Stupid Yankees probably don’t even know what black-eyed peas are.”

  Thomas scrubbed though his scraggly beard, trying to avoid the fact that he’d never heard of anything called black-eyed peas either. “Come on, lass, let’s walk around the property and see if anything else has been bothered.”

  “At least they didn’t break into Papa’s shed.” Margaret ran her fingers across the locked shed door as she walked around the corner. They reached Celia’s pen next to the shed, and she froze. “Oh no, they took our donkey too.”

  Thomas put his arms around Margaret. She turned into his embrace and cried on his shoulder. He patted her back. “I’m so sorry, lass.”

  “First they burn our cotton, then they steal our food, and now they took Celia. You don’t think they’re planning to eat her, do you, Thomas?”

  “No, lass, I don’t think so. I’m sure they used her to pack off all the food they gathered.”

  “And…who knows…what’s happened…to Elizabeth.”

  “Hush, child, yer mama and papa will bring her home directly. Everything will be all right.” Thomas tried his best to console her.

  She pulled away. “How do you know, Thomas? Has anything good ever come out of this horrible war?”

  He gazed into violet eyes that seemed to have no end. Despite the tear-stained cheeks, red nose, and the dust that had collected in her hair during their pantry stay, Margaret Logan was more beautiful than ever. “Come, let’s have a walk.”

  ~*~

  Thomas sat down and patted the dried wood as an invitation for Margaret to join him. She sat, probably closer to him than was proper, but those blue eyes of his could be quite a distraction. “Thomas, I want to thank you for comforting me through so many of the trials we’ve been through lately. I’ve always thought of myself as the strong one, but lately it seems I’m going to pieces over everything.”

  “Ye don’t have to thank me, lass, and believe me, yer a very strong lady. The way you took charge of the house when those soldiers were approaching was a thing to behold. I certainly didn’t know what to do until ye set me to task.”

  “Yes, you did seem a bit at a loss at the time.” She giggled just a little.

  “All right now, don’t ye go teasing me again.”

  Margaret cleared her throat. “Well, unfortunately, that wasn’t our first raid.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, the first time was even worse. They came inside the house.” She looked down at her left hand. “They stole the ring my fiancé gave me. Broke my heart.”

  Thomas touched her hand. “I’m sorry, lass. Now I understand how you knew exactly what to do.”

  “Thomas, I want to thank you for not pulling away when I held on to you in the pantry and at the donkey pen. I don’t know what came over me.” Margaret was still uneasy. She glanced around, hoping none of the Yankees hid from them. “It’s just that Celia came all the way from New Orleans with us. I remember one time when June was picking primrose…we call them buttercups down here…anyway, June pressed the flowers into Celia’s face and covered her entire nose with yellow powder. Well, that donkey huffed and puffed and let out the biggest sneeze you’ve ever heard. June had to run to the washtub after that.”

  Thomas laughed with her. He straddled the old log and held his hands out to her.

  Margaret accepted his hands and felt her cheeks blossom with heat.

  “Miss Margaret, I can’t hold this in any longer. I need to tell ye that I’ve had feelings for ye since I first laid eyes on ye that day at the bay. Ye say that nothing good has ever come ou
t of this war, but I think that you—finding me—was the best thing that ever could have happened. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to see if it would be all right if I asked yer papa if I might court ye.” His cheeks were a bit flushed as he looked away. “Now I understand if the answer is no. I know how ye feel about Yankees, but in actuality I’m much more of an Irishman than a Yankee.”

  “Thomas, I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t had feelings for you too. I realize now that the circumstances we are in can’t be blamed on one person…especially not you.” She looked down at their hands. He’d become stronger since that day she’d found him. She lifted one of his hands to her heart. “I suppose I’m willing to open my heart again.”

  “Oh, lass, I’m so happy to hear it.” Thomas wrapped both arms around her for a moment and then took her hand again. “I plan to ask yer papa’s permission as soon as I can.”

  Margaret stared out at the water.

  “What is it, Margaret?”

  “I can’t help but think you’ll be strong enough to return to the North soon. Then what will become of us?”

  “It’s true. I will have to eventually return and reconnect with my unit. And I’m needing to check on my father and brothers. But I promise ye…wherever I go…no matter how far…I’ll always come back to ye.”

  “I believe you.” She closed her eyes when Thomas gently squeezed her hand.

  They walked back toward the house.

  In the distance, Mama and Papa’s voices were raised, as if they were arguing. Apparently, they’d found Elizabeth, because her sister was shrieking about something at the top of her lungs.

  14

  “Right this way, miss.” Thomas struggled to pull the wooden chair out, offering Margaret a seat. The task would have been much easier had he not been wearing Mr. Logan’s dress coat that was two sizes too small. Every move seemed impossible.

  “Why, thank you, sir.” She put a gloved hand to her mouth as she giggled.

  Thomas took a seat in the chair across from her. He reached across the small card table for her hand and made a grunting sound when the coat wouldn’t allow him to extend his arm fully. “I’m sorry, lass, but this coat has got to go.”

  “I understand completely. Papa is a might bit smaller than you, Thomas.”

  “Aye, that he is, lass.” He sat back down. The sweet fragrance of the rose water she wore wafted in the air, even with the table of food before them. The soft candlelight made her eyes sparkle like a beautiful full moon rising over the bay.

  “And might I say that ye look lovelier than ever this evening.”

  Her raven hair glistened with every movement of her head. There was something about this woman that made him want to forsake everything and be with her the rest of his life.

  “Thank you, Thomas.” A smile appeared. “I wasn’t sure I’d like you clean-shaven, but I must admit you’re even more handsome than before.”

  “I’m glad ye like it, but it wasn’t easy taking a razor to my jaw after all this time.” He held his hand out.

  She accepted it and bowed her head.

  “Father, we come to Ye this evening and ask a blessing on this meal and on the hands of the ones who prepared it. I thank Ye, Father, for bringing me to this wonderful home and to these fine people who love Ye with all their hearts. Thank Ye for Mr. and Mrs. Logan, who care enough to allow this special time for Margaret and myself since we’re not in a situation where I can court her properly. I pray, Father, that Ye would heal those who have been injured in this horrible war and that it will all be over within short order. In Yer Son’s name I pray. Amen.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. That was beautiful.”

  “Yer welcome. Can I serve ye, miss?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Thomas began serving the food. Even though the fare was meager, the taste would be delicious since Mrs. Logan had cooked it. “I still can’t believe yer mama would go to all this trouble so we can have some sort of courtship. Ye have a mighty fine mama, Margaret Logan.”

  “I have a feeling she likes you, Thomas. You’ve done so much for us since you’ve been here.”

  “Well, I’ve been here so long, I’m lucky she’s not ready to throw me out like old fish.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, I happen to know that her daughter cares a great deal for you too.”

  “Is that so?” He handed her plate back. “Well, truth be known, I happen to feel mighty attached to that daughter of hers. Fine-looking woman, she is.”

  A blush rose in Margaret’s cheeks.

  They ate their candlelight dinner in silence, sharing an occasional flirting glance. Love was growing; his heart belonged to her.

  Margaret took a sip of water. She looked away from the table; her silhouette glowed against the candlelight. “Thomas.”

  “Yes, my lass.”

  “I have to ask…when do you plan to go back up north?”

  Why would she bring up that sad subject?

  “I fear that I probably need to leave right after Christmas.” His heart, so joyful before, melted toward a deep well of dread.

  “Oh, Thomas, we’ll have the most wonderful Christmas ever.” She spoke as if she’d not asked the question that would tear them apart. “Of course, we won’t have very much food after those Yankees raided our garden. But Mama can make a feast out of nothing. I can hardly wait.”

  Thomas heard the pain in her voice. “Aye, lass, if only I could, I would take ye to the finest restaurants in all the land.”

  “And I would love to take my place amongst all the fine ladies.” She faked an accent as she spoke.

  Thomas stood, bowed, and offered his hand to her. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

  “Why, of course you may.”

  There wasn’t the beauty of a bow sliding across a well-tuned violin. There was no gentle strumming of a harp playing softly in the background. There wasn’t even the warm melody of piano chords, and yet they danced around the candlelit room. Their music was the beating of two longing hearts coming together…forever…entwined as one.

  “May I kiss ye, my love?”

  Her eyes closed and her face turned up. “Oh, yes…yes.”

  Their lips came together in an embrace as soft and gentle as a warm summer breeze.

  15

  Margaret swiped loose strands of hair from her face. “Bet you never thought you’d be doing this, did you, Papa?” She reached inside the trap with a stick and coaxed out a big blue crab.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. I’ve had quite a few jobs in my lifetime, but I can’t say I’ve ever had opportunity to boil crabs before. Now crawfish are a whole different story.”

  The crab opened its claws, ready to attack. She pushed him over to Papa who quickly grabbed him by his back legs and dumped him into the pot of boiling water.

  Margaret winced. “Seems so cruel.”

  “You won’t be saying that once you’ve had a taste of him.”

  “Ugh, I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat something I’ve watched boil to death.”

  “That’s why June is in the house. She’d be awful upset to know what we’re doing out here. Now start pulling out the rest of those crabs. Your mama’s gonna think we’re foolin’ around instead of doing our job.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thomas was working in the garden.

  “Hey, Thomas,” Papa yelled over his shoulder. “Would you mind gathering up some more wood for me? I need to keep this water boiling.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ve seen a good bit of palm out by the slough. I’ll fetch it for ye.”

  Papa stirred the pot before reaching for another crab. “That’s a good man, Margaret.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Papa, I’m worried about Elizabeth. She’s acting so strange lately.”

  Papa rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Margaret knew he was probably having a hard time with the answer. “I have a feeling Elizabeth is jealous of you and Thomas. Why don’t y
ou try talking with her about it?”

  “I have. She won’t listen.”

  “I know what you mean. Honestly, I’m worried about Elizabeth myself. She’s starting to act just like my cousin Emma.”

  Margaret squinted in the bright afternoon sun. There’s that name again. “Who’s Cousin Emma?”

  He picked up the crabs as Margaret pushed them toward him and sent them down into the boiling water. “Well, I had a cousin back in Louisiana. First child of my Aunt Joan and Uncle Lucas. We were about the same age and all of us cousins grew up together.” Papa’s gaze took on a faraway look. “Anyway, by the time Emma and I were around thirteen, fourteen, she…changed. Everyone in the family knew she wasn’t right, but no one knew what to do for her.”

  “What do you mean she wasn’t right?”

  The last crab ran out of the trap and tried to make his escape by walking sideways across the plank the crab trap rested on. He ended up falling off upside down on the ground, his limbs flailing about wildly. Margaret raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “I’m not picking that up, Papa.”

  He chuckled and bent over and picked up the stray crab, plopping him headlong into the bubbling abyss. He then took the long-handled, slotted spoon from the pot and tapped it on the side, shaking off the water.

  “Well, some days she seemed as happy as could be…too happy even.”

  “Now how can someone be too happy?”

  “Well, you have your happy and then you have your—too happy.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes. “Be serious, Papa.”

  “All right, all right. Emma would have spells where she’d dance and sing and carry on, even in the middle of the night. Aunt Joan had to watch her when she was like that or she might just give away everything they had.”

  “I don’t know, Papa. Dancing and being generous doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

  “No, but then there’d be times when she would get so low and blue, it seemed she might not come out of it.” Papa stuck the spoon back into the boiling water and gave the water a swirl. “Those were the real bad times. When she got like that, her ma and pa would lock her away so she wouldn’t hurt herself.” He set the spoon down on the wooden plank and looked away. “That’s my real fear…that Elizabeth will become like Emma.”