10

Thomas told Mr. Logan what happened between him and Margaret, but the man already knew, admitting he and Mrs. Logan had seen the whole exchange from the kitchen window. Thomas searched through the shed for the tool he needed, deciding the work would keep his mind off Margaret. Forgive me, Lord, and protect her, please…

He checked the old saw’s sharpness and returned to the work at hand. The piece of wood had been used many times before, judging by the nail holes scarring its rough grain. But even scraps of wood had to be reused. Supplies were a scarce commodity, especially wood. He searched for the right-sized piece of driftwood to use, but the hunt was fruitless.

“Beeehhhh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh!”

“Hush now, Nanny Sue. I’ll have yer pen fixed up nice and new before ye know it and then ye won’t have to be tied up anymore.”

Thomas talked to the goat as if she understood what he said. He’d done the daily milking since regaining his strength. But Nanny Sue’s milk was beginning to dry up. They’d need to breed her soon if they were to have milk in the coming year. He would have to discuss their options with Mr. Logan.

Thomas overheard Mrs. Logan talk about trading some of the fall vegetables to Mr. Milton in exchange for a pair of chickens so they would have their own source of eggs and eventually a nice chicken dinner. Images of baked poultry floated through Thomas’s head.

He knelt and rested the plank across his knee to saw it. That was another chore. He would make some hay bales directly after finishing the goat pen.

It eased Thomas’s mind that he could repay their kindness in giving him lodging and caring for him during his recovery. He couldn’t understand the abundant generosity of the Logan family. Surely God had brought him to this place for a reason.

The grass rustled behind him. Someone was coming.

He instinctively picked up the saw for protection. A glimpse of raven hair came into view. Thomas dipped his head in acknowledgement of her presence and carried on with his work.

She leaned against the shed, watching him.

Thomas retrieved a hammer. He returned to the goat pen, picked up the broken piece of wood, and pulled the nails holding the chicken wire in place. Oh, Lord, did Ye hear my prayer? Did Ye work on her heart?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Murphy.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Margaret. Ye know, lass, I’m fine with ye calling me Thomas, if you’d like.”

“All right then…Thomas, I was wondering if you might have time to talk.”

The sound of his name on her lips was indeed a pleasure. He put down the hammer and rose, trying his best not to show the pain from his still healing body. “Of course. I’d be happy to talk to ye.”

“Can you come out back? I don’t want little ears listening in.”

He couldn’t be sure, but Thomas sensed a break in the ice. He followed her as quickly as the rainbow follows the rain.

Margaret made her way to the back of the property. When she came upon a felled log, she sat on it, facing the saltwater slough at the back of the Logan land.

Thomas joined her, careful to keep his distance. He surveyed the property. No one was within earshot.

“Thomas…” A long pause followed as she plucked a lone sea-oat stem and twirled it between her fingers. “I…I’d like to apologize to you.”

Oh, forgive me, Father. Why do I never seem to expect an answer when I pray? Thomas touched her hand. “What on earth for, lass?”

Margaret didn’t look at him. “You were right, and I was wrong.”

“About what, Miss Margaret?”

“I took your advice and talked to a slave. A slave I’ve always known, but never took the time to talk to.” Her body began to shake. She lowered her face into her hands. “And you were so right—slavery is awful!”

Thomas inched closer and put his arm around her. “There, there now, lass.” To his surprise, she didn’t withdraw. Even more unexpected, she turned toward him and continued her cry on his shoulder. He never wanted to let go of her.

“It’s OK, Miss Margaret. How could ye know how bad slavery is when ye have never seen it first-hand?”

Margaret wiped her tears with her apron. “But now I know how horrible it is. And to think, I’ve hated the Union all these years for no good reason. If they actually are fighting against slavery, then they fight for a noble cause.”

“Aye now, but ye did have a good reason for your feelings. After all, yer fiancé died at the hands of the Union army. That would cause anyone to have hatred in their heart.”

“I don’t know what to feel anymore. I’m so confused. Everything I’ve always believed as truth doesn’t seem to make sense anymore. Why does God let these things happen, Thomas?”

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.