Northern Light

by Annette O'Hare

  Elizabeth stopped writing and instead drew images on the side of her paper. “Ever since we first came here, I’ve prayed every day for a boy to come into my life. Someone I could love and who would love me in return. When Mama and Papa brought Thomas here, I knew my prayers had been answered.” She took her eyes off her paper and cast a dark look toward Margaret. “You see, God already gave you a chance at love and you lost it. It should have been my turn.”

  Elizabeth’s words pierced through Margaret’s heart. But she set her feelings aside to bring solace to her sister. It had been, after all, the first time anyone had gotten her to talk about anything in months.

  “Elizabeth.” Margaret smiled and tried to make light of the situation. “You’re far too young to be thinking about men and marriage.” She drew in a deep breath when she thought of a brilliant idea. “Oh, I know what we can do. Just wait until we return to New Orleans. We’ll get ourselves a couple fine gowns and go to a ball. Now doesn’t that sound like a marvelous idea? You’ll be able to meet young men…but of course, you’ll have to wait until you’re of the right age.”

  Margaret’s words didn’t provide the results she’d hoped for. Elizabeth’s lighthearted expression when she came into the room was turning into what looked like pure misery. Her shoulders fell with her countenance. She pressed so hard with her pencil that it carved a hole through the pages of her journal.

  Margaret didn’t know what to do. On one hand, her heart ached for her sister, but on the other hand, she almost felt afraid of her. What had she done to cause such a reaction from her?

  Elizabeth glared. Desperation sounded in her voice. “Don’t you realize we’re never going back to New Orleans? Thanks to this stupid war, we’re never going to know any happiness ever again. We’re stuck here on this godforsaken peninsula for good.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Elizabeth. I know we’ll return to New Orleans. But in the meantime, I’m trying to make things better for all of us while we’re here. I have some fun things planned for the rest of Advent. I want everything to be perfect for Thomas’s last few weeks with us. You know he’ll be leaving shortly after Christmas.”

  “That’s just fine with me. The sooner he leaves the better. Everything has been terrible since he’s been here—especially you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Elizabeth still didn’t make eye contact with her. “You know exactly what I mean. The way you showed yourself off to Thomas when he first came here is nothing but shameless. And don’t think I don’t know what you let Thomas do to you when y’all are alone together. You both should be ashamed.”

  Margaret shot up from the bed. Her blood boiled from within. “I have done no such thing. And how dare you talk about Thomas that way. He has never been anything but a perfect gentleman toward me. Now you need to apologize…right this instant.”

  “The only one that’s going to apologize is you…when God punishes you. And if He doesn’t do it soon, then maybe I will do it for Him.”

  Margaret was speechless. She watched her younger sister get up and leave the room, slamming the door behind her. It felt as if a stranger had just walked past. Margaret didn’t even know her own sister anymore. She went to the desk and peered at the undecipherable marks her sister had scrawled. She noticed the single piece of paper upon which Elizabeth had written her poem. Margaret picked up the poem.

  North versus South, state against state,

  The South wanted freedom, the North gave them hate.

  Cries of indignation, a southern son dies in vain,

  Death on both sides, blood flows as rain.

  Margaret stopped reading and sank onto the chair, clutching her stomach. Bile rose in her throat. She took the poem, folded it, and tucked it into her apron. Elizabeth could not show this to Mr. Langley. If I’d lost my son…actually he’s lost both his sons to the war...Oh, my goodness. This might just send the poor man on to the Promised Land. She swiped away tears that threatened. There was no time for crying now. She had to figure out what to do with the poem and with Elizabeth. Should she tell Papa…Mama…Thomas? But her time with Thomas was drawing to an end and she didn’t want to ruin what little time they had left. She had about as much control over Elizabeth as she did over the mighty Gulf of Mexico. The thought that Elizabeth could end up like Cousin Emma scared her more than anything.

  20

  Margaret stood next to Papa at the kitchen table. They waited for Mama to finish checking on the two youngest children playing in the front room. Since there was no bossiness heard from June and there was no crying heard from Jeremiah, Margaret assumed they were playing nicely together.

  Mama joined them in the kitchen. “OK, Jeb, you’ve got Thomas busy outside, right?”

  “Yep. He shouldn’t come up for at least an hour or two.”

  “Papa, you don’t have to be so hard on him.” Margaret was disturbed that Thomas might be doing too much. He was mostly healed, but he still had twinges of pain when he worked too hard.

  “Child, he’s fine. All right, tell us how to make this special Irish dish,” Mama said.

  “OK, I’ve set out everything we need to make the colcannon. We have to use collard greens, even though the recipe calls for kale or cabbage. But since we don’t have either, the greens will have to do.”

  “I’ll fetch a pot to boil the collards in.” Mama retrieved the big pot from beneath the cabinet.

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do, Margaret?”

  She smiled at her papa. “I really just wanted you to find something to keep Thomas busy while we cook up his favorite meal.”

  “Whew! Thank goodness, I thought I would have to help cook.” Papa poured a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the table.

  The water began to steam and Margaret added the collards, onions, and cubed potatoes to the pot. Mama added a few pinches of salt. “I don’t know what’s so special about boiled collard greens and potatoes, but if it’s what the Irish folk like…”

  “It’s more than likely that cabbage and potatoes is all they had available to them. And if that’s all you have, then you might as well develop a likin’ for it.” Papa sipped his coffee.

  Mama pulled out the big slotted spoon and handed it to Margaret. “You’re probably right about that, Jeb. Thomas’s people went through some hard times, for sure.”

  Margaret stirred the steaming concoction. “I would have liked to make it just like his mama did, but we don’t have the right kind of greens. Oh well, this will have to do.”

  Mama patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll like it just fine.”

  “Sure would be nice if we had enough coffee to make a strong pot again.” Mama poured a cup of coffee for herself and looked at Papa. “Jeb, have you seen any of that wild chicory growing on the property lately?”

  “No, but I can take a look around if you’d like.”

  “It would sure make this coffee taste better.” She sighed. “If we ever go back to New Orleans, I want you to take me to that new coffee shop that was opening in the French Market. What was the name of it?”

  “Café Du Monde,” Margaret answered.

  “Yes, that was it.” Mama nodded.

  June and Jeremiah laughed and carried on in the front room.

  Mama rested her chin on her palm. “Wonder where Elizabeth has run off to this time.”

  “She’s down at the Langley place,” Margaret said.

  Papa pushed back from the table. “You know, it just ain’t right for a young girl to be going over to a man’s home…alone.”

  “Oh, Jeb, he’s harmless.” Mama took another sip.

  “That’s not the point. It just don’t look right.” He set his cup down. “I should put a stop to it.”

  Margaret turned to the cook pot.

  “I’ve tried to get her to stop going over there, but every time I do, she flies into a rage. She says Mr. Langley is the only person who really understands her.” Mama was p
ensive.

  “That’s just crazy talk!” Margaret dropped the spoon into the pot. “Oh, Mama, I didn’t mean to say that Elizabeth is crazy. It’s just…how can Mr. Langley be the only one who understands her?”

  “She really is starting to act like your cousin Emma.”

  Papa nodded but didn’t make eye contact with Mama. He just sat there, circling the rim of his cup with his index finger.

  “It’s OK, Margaret. Papa told me the same thing he told you. We need to face the fact that Elizabeth has a problem.”

  Margaret pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I…I wasn’t sure whether or not I should show this to you.”

  “What is it, Margaret?” Papa held out his hand. He opened the paper, and together her parents read the disturbing poem Elizabeth had written. Papa folded the paper and handed it back to Margaret.

  “Papa…she told me she wrote it for Mr. Langley.”

  Mama’s brow rose. “Don’t you dare give that back to her, Margaret. For heaven’s sake, we can’t let him read that.”

  Dread crept into Margaret’s heart. “Mama, Papa, what will we do if Elizabeth gets any worse?”

  “I don’t know, darlin’. We haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” Papa tapped his finger on the edge of his coffee cup, a nervous gesture Margaret had never noticed before.

  “If only we had a doctor here on the peninsula we could take her to. But there’s not even a minister we could talk to.” Mama looked on the verge of tears.

  Papa reached up and took her hand. “It’s going to be all right, Caroline. We’ll get through this…somehow, we are going to get through this.”

  Margaret wished that what Papa said was true, that they were going to get through this. Would Elizabeth’s condition continue to get worse? And if it did, would they have to lock her away inside her room? I wonder what ever happened to Emma?

  ~*~

  “All right, Mama, it’s time for you to give me your ring.” Margaret was so excited she wanted to jump up and down. “I already have the thimble, the button, and the coin. I just need your ring and the colcannon will be ready to eat.”

  “I’m surprised at how good it smells.” Mama twisted and turned the ring on her finger. “My finger must be swollen. I’m having a hard time getting it off.” The stubborn ring finally popped over her knuckle and landed on the floor.

  Margaret picked it up. She leaned over the bowl of creamed potatoes, onion, and collard greens, ready to drop the four items into the food.

  “Now, if you lose my wedding ring, I might have to tan your hide, little lady,” Mama teased.

  “We’re not going to lose your ring.”

  “Well, you better not,” she answered with a smile. “Now move over and let me dish out a bowlful for Jeremiah before you put all those trinkets in.”

  “Oh, right, you don’t want him getting hold of these things!”

  Margaret closed both hands around the cache, lifted them to her chin, and shut her eyes. O Lord, I know this game is all for fun and we don’t believe in chance. But, Lord, if it be Thy will, may I please be the one to get the ring? In Jesus’s name, amen.

  21

  Thomas spent the entire afternoon mending pens, pulling weeds, and sweeping everything from the front porch to the shed. He was thankful for the work Mr. Logan gave him. It felt good to earn his keep, but it made him a bit curious as to why he had been told to stay out of the house. Something was afoot. Nevertheless, a good day’s work made for an honest man.

  “Thomas, Elizabeth, supper’s ready,” Mr. Logan called.

  The sound was music to his ears as he’d worked up a powerful appetite. When all the tools were put away, he headed inside. The house had a scent of something familiar. It smelled like…home. Thomas’s spirits lifted…was this becoming home? “I didn’t see Elizabeth outside, sir. Don’t think she’s around.”

  Mr. Logan patted his shoulder. “All right, Thomas, go on in and have a seat.”

  Mrs. Logan bounced Jeremiah on her hip. June stood on tiptoe behind a chair. The roughhewn table was set to perfection with their best dishes. And the finest thing in the room was Margaret, but right now, Thomas didn’t know what looked better, the gorgeous young woman or the great bowl of food she held in her arms.

  “Is that what I think it is, Margaret dear?”

  “It sure is.”

  “Colcannon…and it’s not even Hallowe—”

  “Elizabeth, it’s suppertime,” Mr. Logan hollered out the kitchen door.

  After washing his hands, Thomas settled into his seat.

  The rest of the family had taken their regular places. Silence filled the room.

  Thomas looked at Margaret. “I can’t believe ye did this for me. Did ye even add the charms I told ye about?”

  “We sure did…even Mama’s ring.” Margaret’s expression changed.

  “What is it, lass?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you that it won’t be quite the same because we don’t have kale or cabbage, so we had to use collard greens.”

  He laughed. “Well then, this will be your own special recipe. I suppose it will be forever known as ‘southern colcannon.’”

  Mr. and Mrs. Logan laughed.

  “Don’t ye worry a bit. I’m sure it will be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Papa, it doesn’t look like Elizabeth is coming. May we please start without her?” Margaret asked.

  “I reckon we ought to.” Mr. Logan asked Thomas to say the blessing.

  Thomas said a prayer of thanksgiving for the family who cared so much for him they would make a dinner especially for him. He also took special care to pray for Elizabeth’s safe return.

  June dug into her bowl with fervor. Thomas remembered what fun it had been for him and his brothers to find the tokens as children. The memory was warm and he treasured it in his heart.

  “What in tarnation is this?” Mr. Logan pulled the potato-covered thimble out of his mouth. “I ’bout near chipped a tooth on that thing.” Mr. Logan overacted and they all broke out in laughter.

  “Jebediah, stop your silliness.” Mrs. Logan hid her grin.

  “Tell us what the thimble means, Thomas,” June begged.

  He dragged a towel across his mouth and smiled, half because the little redhead had asked so sweetly and half because it was the first time she ever called him by his first name. “Well, I’m so sorry to tell ye, Mr. Logan, but the thimble means yer going to be an old maid.” Thomas started laughing.

  June laughed hysterically.

  Margaret covered her own smile, while Mrs. Logan rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  When it seemed the revelry couldn’t get any livelier, Mr. Logan pulled the bright, shiny coin from his mouth.

  He looked at his youngest daughter; her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Can’t a man get a decent meal around here anymore?”

  Again, June burst with laughter, her red curls bouncing up and down. Jeremiah laughed too, even though he was too young to know what they were all laughing about.

  “Looks like a right ‘rich’ meal if ye ask me.” Thomas smiled at his own pun.

  “Papa, you’re a rich old maid!” June pointed at her father and chortled.

  “Hush up, June,” Margaret scolded, still grinning.

  It warmed Thomas’s heart that the family could share in one of the fonder customs of his childhood. The empty place across from him was an ever-present reminder of the growing tension between Elizabeth and her family. He couldn’t quite figure out what affliction was taking place in the poor child’s mind, but whatever was happening to her was a burden on the entire family. He was glad one of his own traditions could brighten their day, even if it was fleeting.

  After the laughter quieted, the conversation drifted to the family’s goat, Nanny Sue.

  “I’ve noticed that yer nanny goat is beginning to lose her milk, sir. What’s the possibility of getting her bred soon?”

  Mr. Logan stirred the remains of his bowl. “I’ve come to notice
that myself. I need to take a walk down to the Goodman place to see whether or not he lost his ram in the raid.” He scooped up a bite. “I sure hope not. I’ll make my way down there before week’s end.”

  “Aye, that’ll be good.”

  Mr. Logan made a strange face. He spoke with his mouth full of potatoes. “You’re not going to believe this.” Then he pulled the button out of his mouth. “Caroline, you didn’t give me anything but a bowl full of trinkets!”

  “Oh, hush up, Jebediah!” She grinned at her husband. “You better not have my wedding ring hidden in that bowl too.”

  “I’d rather have another bowl without so much extra stuff in it, if you don’t mind.” Mr. Logan held his bowl out to his wife.

  “Papa, you got everything.” June huffed. “I didn’t get one blessed thing in my bowl of cannon.” She crossed her arms. “How in the world am I gonna have any money or get married or anything?”

  “Aw, come on now, June.” Thomas hugged the little girl. “It just goes to show ye, there’s no such thing as good luck…only the blessings of God. Besides, there’s still one more charm left to be found and ye haven’t finished yer bowl yet.”

  Thomas’s words were enough to prompt her to dig into the hearty meal. She turned to her papa and taunted him. “Ha, ha, ha, I’m gonna find the last charm before you do!”

  “Watch it, young lady,” Mr. Logan warned as he began to eat again, checking each bite carefully.

  So much attention had been given to Mr. Logan and June that Thomas had neglected the most important person at the table…Margaret. Thomas turned to ask her how she liked her first meal of colcannon.

  Before he could get the words out, he noticed her hand reaching up to her mouth.

  Every noise in the kitchen seemed to fade away from Thomas’s hearing as he waited with bated breath for his lovely Margaret to announce her discovery.

  Raven tresses fell onto the bodice of her emerald dress. She gently removed her mother’s wedding band from between her lips. She gazed at it, and then hugged it to her heart. She then looked heavenward, closing her eyes she mouthed the words…thank You.