Northern Light (14 page)

Could Mama be right? Was there no hope for poor Elizabeth? Her stomach tied itself in knots thinking about having to lock her away as they’d done to Papa’s cousin Emma. But she couldn’t think about it…not now with Thomas leaving in a few weeks. Margaret would do everything in her power to insure that her last days with Thomas would be a time they would remember…forever.

18

Margaret’s legs seemed to turn to butter with every kiss Thomas placed on the back of her neck. Had they not been busy preparing a meal, she’d welcome his kisses. But there was cornbread to make and it wasn’t getting done with all the tomfoolery going on. “Thomas Murphy, if you don’t pay attention, you’ll never learn how to make hot-water cornbread.” She turned, smiled, and put her hand up to her neck where his lips had been.

“I’m sorry, lass, but I can’t help myself.” He kissed her forehead.

“Well, you need to behave.” She wagged a finger at him.

“OK, OK, so why do ye call it hot-water cornbread? I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Because, regular cornbread calls for eggs, and since there are no eggs on the entire peninsula, we have to make hot-water cornbread. It doesn’t call for eggs.”

“Aye, I see. And does it call for sugar?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Because we have a fair amount of that, lass.”

She shook her head at his silly pun, but couldn’t help smiling. “Now stop it. We’re ready to pour the boiling water over the cornmeal and lard. Measure out three quarters of a cup, and I’ll add the salt.”

Thomas poured the steaming hot liquid over the ingredients in the bowl. The lard melted into a puddle. “What shall I do now, mix it together?”

“Yes.” She handed him a spatula. “It’ll be sticky, but do your best to get it mixed.”

A good amount of lard was being heated in the iron skillet. Margaret took the long-handled spoon from the spoon rest and stirred the big pot of black-eyed peas. She scooped out a small spoonful and set it to cool.

“Are ye hungry? Setting out a bit of those peas for yerself, are ye?”

“No, I need to have a taste to see if they’re done.”

“Well, go on then.”

“I don’t want to burn my mouth. They’re boiling hot!”

“You’ve got a point there.” He slapped the top of his cornbread dough ball with the spatula. “Seems to be well mixed, lass. What shall I do with it now?”

“You need to separate a small amount at a time and form it into cakes.”

“Ye mean I have to put my hands into this sticky mess?”

“Aye, laddie, ye do.” She giggled.

“So now yer going to mock the way I talk, are ye?” Thomas pulled the spatula out of the gooey mixture and poked it at her.

Margaret hopped around the kitchen. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so hard.

Thomas backed her into the cabinets, taunting her.

“Don’t you get that sticky thing on my clothes, Thomas Murphy. I don’t want to have to change my dress.”

“Well, fine then. I won’t get it on yer dress.” Thomas touched the tip of her nose and lips. “Here, let me get that off ye.” He wiped the spot of mixture on his trouser leg. “I think I missed a bit.”

The kiss that followed caused Margaret’s entire body to quiver. She wished it would never end.

A bothersome whistle rattled the kitchen windows.

“I’m afraid yer water kettle is boiling again, lass.” Thomas pulled away, grinning.

Margaret rushed to the stove. “I guess I forgot to turn off the burner.” She touched her fingers to a warm cheek, all but ashamed of what she felt inside. She smoothed out her skirt and got back to the task at hand. “Ok, you can make the cornbread cakes, and I’ll fetch the chow-chow from the pantry.”

“What on earth is chow-chow?”

“You’ve never had chow-chow? It’s relish for the peas. You’ll love it.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that. I seem to be falling in love with almost everything in this kitchen.”

Margaret put a palm to her hot cheek. Surprise turned to relief and she smiled. She disappeared into the pantry.

~*~

“Margaret, Thomas, that was a mighty fine meal.” Papa scooted his chair back and rested his hands on his belly.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“Aye, thank ye, but yer daughter did most of the work. I did make a fine mess of yer kitchen though.”

Mama, June, and Papa laughed.

But as of late, Elizabeth sulked and pushed black-eyed peas around on her plate instead of joining in the fun.

Margaret couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her sister’s laugh. She sighed and put her hand over Thomas’s. “That’s not true. You cooked the cornbread all by yourself.”

“It was good too.” June patted her tummy.

“Why, thank ye, June.”

Margaret stood and clapped her hands together. “OK, everyone, it’s time to begin our second week of Advent.”

Jeremiah clapped his hands.

June jumped up from her chair. “Come on, everybody. It’s time to light the candles!”

Margaret hung behind with Mama, waiting for Elizabeth, who remained in her seat, staring at the plate of food. She hadn’t taken a bite. Mama put her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Come on, Elizabeth, let’s go celebrate Advent. It will be fun.”

Elizabeth scooted her chair back before Mama could get out of the way.

“Careful now, Elizabeth, you almost knocked Mama over,” Papa said from the doorway.

Without acknowledging Papa, Elizabeth joined the rest of the family. She sat outside the circle everyone had made around the Advent wreath and candles.

Margaret took a seat next to Thomas and reached for the Bible that was already set out. “OK, Thomas, remind everyone what this week is supposed to be about.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “The second week of Advent is to remember Bethlehem and the love of God in sending His Son to save us.”

Margaret opened the Bible. “This week, we’ll be reading from the book of Luke, chapter two, verses eight through fourteen.” She began reading. “
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men
.” She closed the Bible. “Thomas, will you say the prayer for us this evening?”

“Of course I will.” He blessed their family and the holiday with a heartfelt prayer.

Papa lit a small stick and returned to the table. He took Jeremiah’s hand and placed the burning stick in it. Jeremiah’s eyes were wide in silent awe as he lit the first and second candles.

The whole family joined in, deciding what song to sing with this scripture.

Elizabeth rose and went out the front door.

Mama turned to Papa, her lip quivering. “What are we gonna do, Jeb?”

Papa stood and blew out the candles.

Jeremiah looked as though he would cry, but instead poked out his bottom lip and pouted.

“Let’s put this away for tonight. I’ll go after Elizabeth and try to figure out what’s going on inside that head of hers.” Papa seemed grim.

“Thank you, Jeb.” Mama said the words through sniffles and tears. “June, will you help me put these candles and such away?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry about the kitchen, Mama. Thomas and I will do the cleaning. Won’t we, Thomas?” Margaret smiled at her beau.

“Of course, ma’am, we’ll take care of it. Don’t ye worry about a thing.”

“But, but you two already cooked the meal. You shouldn’t have to do the cleaning too.” Tears trickled down Mama’s cheeks.

“It’ll be all right, Mama. We’ll get through this. Remember that scripture you always quoted to me when I was going through my bad times?” Mama nodded and Margaret smiled. “Say it with me.”

“
Greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world
.”

Mama put her hand on Margaret’s. “I know those words are true, but everything seems so hopeless with Elizabeth.”

“I know, Mama. I’ll talk to her and see if I can smooth things over. It’s me she has bad feelings for, so I’m the one who should talk to her.”

“I want you to be careful what you say around her, Margaret. I’m afraid for her. She don’t seem...right, you know, in her mind.”

Fear and sadness welled up inside Margaret. Something she’d been thinking about for weeks sailed to the front of her mind and wouldn’t go away.
Everyone is in agreement. Something is seriously wrong with Elizabeth.

19

“Elizabeth, I’m coming in.” Margaret called before she opened the door. Elizabeth sat at the old oak desk between their two beds. She had a pencil in her hand and was writing in her journal.

Margaret eased over to her bed and fluffed the pillows before sitting on the edge, facing her sister.

Elizabeth stopped writing and turned toward her. Margaret couldn’t believe what she was seeing…Elizabeth was smiling at her.

She instantly felt relief at the warm reception. “What are you writing?” Margaret asked, hoping in her heart that this was the beginning of a turning point for her sister.

“It’s a poem I wrote about the war. I wrote it for Mr. Langley. I thought it might make him feel better. He gets very sad, you know.”

Margaret couldn’t help but notice how Elizabeth’s voice didn’t even sound like her own. There was simply too much happiness for this to be her sister talking.

“That’s very sweet of you, Elizabeth.” Margaret put her fists on the bed, bracing herself. “I’m also very proud of how you’ve been going to help Mr. Langley with his son. I’m sure it’s not easy caring for him without anyone to help him. He’s very lucky to have you.”

Elizabeth didn’t acknowledge what she’d said. “Would you like to read my poem? I think it’s really good.” Elizabeth talked over Margaret.

“I’m sure it is, and I’d love to read it, but first I’d like to talk to you.”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and went back to writing.

Margaret took a deep breath as she approached the touchy subject. “Elizabeth…even though I’m proud of how you’ve helped Mr. Langley, I’m also worried about the way you’ve been acting lately.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She didn’t look at Margaret when she answered and continued writing. “I don’t think I’ve been acting any differently than I always have. I’m fine…actually, I feel better than ever.”

At this moment Elizabeth did seem fine.

“Yes, you do seem fine…now, but lately you’ve been so sharp with everyone, even Mama and Papa, and you run off to the Langleys’ without telling anyone where you’re going. It’s just not proper behavior for a young woman. When you went missing during the raid, I thought, well, to tell the truth, I thought it would be the end of Mama.”

“Well, you can believe me when I say I was perfectly safe with Mr. Langley. But I know. I haven’t been treating Mama and Papa with the respect they deserve.”

Margaret was finally getting through to her, so she continued on. “And it makes me sad that you seem so upset about my relationship with Thomas. Why can’t you be happy for us…especially after all I’ve been through since Jeffrey was killed?”

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.”