28

A nice breeze blew in the front-room windows, bringing with it the scent of spring.

Mama worked on sewing an extra dress for Elizabeth’s trip to Austin.

Margaret mended a blanket for her.

The weeks following Easter flew by without incident.

Margaret spent most of her time spooning liquid into her sister’s mouth so she wouldn’t waste away. She also tried to keep Mama busy. The month of April was fading into history, and thankfully, the deep well of tears inside Mama seemed to have dried up. Margaret wondered if there would be more tears as the day of Elizabeth and Papa’s departure drew near.

They prayed daily for God to end the war or at the least provide abundant crops for their survival.

The extra chores Margaret had taken on since Mama needed her more helped to keep her mind off Thomas. But the dreams usually came late in the night when she should have been sleeping. She floated on a cloud, wearing a long white dress. Thomas waited for her at an altar. He picked her up and carried her away in his strong arms. Oh, how she longed for his embrace. Then she would awaken, her cheeks burning as fire…her sheets wet with tears and sweat.

During the day she dared not dwell on the things she’d dreamed about. When she wasn’t busy working, she sat with Papa, who kept a watchful eye on the activity at the fort and gave her daily updates on what he’d observed.

“Have you noticed there hasn’t been a blockade runner pass through here in weeks?” He folded the newspaper he’d read more than once and dropped it on the floor.

“Haven’t been able to get my hands on any new news lately either. Mr. Tillman at the dock seems to think something’s going on. He said it’s been a while since he’s seen any activity—Union or Confederate.”

The news only made Margaret worry even more about Thomas’s safety. She’d given the situation over to the Lord so many times she’d lost count, and yet she still found no peace with it. Why couldn’t she have the faith she needed to get through times like this? “Have you already forgotten about that ship that ran aground only a week ago, Papa?”

“Right. How could I forget…?”

The front screen door swung open. June flew in; her eyes were as wide as a scared rabbit. Her chest heaved up and down.

Mama looked up from her sewing. “Where’s Jeremiah?”

June walked straight to Papa. “Me and Jer’miah was minding our own business, playing in the yard.”

Papa took hold of her small hand. “All right, then why are you so out of breath?”

“And why is your dress torn?” Mama asked.

She took in a deep breath. “Well…like I said, me and Jer’miah was playing in the yard, collecting bugs. I borrowed a butter knife from the kitchen to dig in the dirt.”

“June Marie, what have I told you about taking things from the kitchen to play with? Is Jeremiah all right? Is that how you cut your dress?”

“I’m sorry, Mama, but we didn’t have nothing else to dig with. And don’t worry about Jer’miah. He’s fine. And no, I didn’t tear my dress on the knife.”

“Then how did you tear your dress?”

“I’m trying to get to that if you’ll just let me talk!”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” Papa warned.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“You need to apologize to your mama.”

She turned to Mama. “I’m sorry.”

“Go on with your story,” Mama said.

“OK, so me and Jer’miah was playing in the yard, collecting bugs.” June started over and continued with her story. “I found this really big beetle. His back was colored green and orange and yellow, and he was so shiny. Well, Jer’miah was scared silly, but not me. I took that butter knife and scooped him right into my jelly jar.”

“You took one of my preserve jars too?” Mama asked, her tone ominous.

June bowed her head and made a circle on the floor with her foot. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, June.”

“Yep, Jer’miah’s outside looking at that bug right now. Oh, and about my dress. When I was putting it on this morning, my foot got hung in the hem and that’s how it tore.”

“Young lady, you need to be more careful with your things. And you need to learn to keep your hands off my things.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.” She leaned against Papa’s chair. “I thought y’all might want to know that there’s a man coming up toward the house, and he ain’t riding no donkey. He has an honest-to-goodness horse.”

The three adults in the room sprang from their seats and headed for the door. Papa was the first outside, followed by Margaret and then Mama, who made a beeline for Jeremiah. She snatched him up off the ground and carried him onto the porch, the bug jar held tight in his hands.

Fear washed over Margaret at the sight of the man’s Federal uniform, but if he was a one-man raiding party, he didn’t look as if he could do much damage.

They had no time to hide even if they wanted to.

He didn’t seem like a threat at all. His uniform was bright and clean and his horse was immaculately groomed. The horse trotted toward them. When he was less than a stone’s throw away, the man dismounted his horse. The beautiful brown stallion nickered and shook his head. The man patted his muzzle, took the reins, and led him toward the house.

Papa stood straight while the young man approached.

June draped her arms around one of her father’s legs and hid her face.

When the soldier reached Papa, he gave a military salute.

Papa acknowledged him with a nod.

“Ensign Carol Jerome Miller with the United States Navy reporting from the U.S. Lighthouse Board in New Orleans, Louisiana. I’ve just arrived here by boat and I’m looking for…” He reached into his pocket, pulled out some folded paper, and looked at it. “Are you Mr. Jebediah Logan, sir?”

Papa unclasped June from his leg and hoisted her onto his hip. “Yes, I’m Jebediah Logan.” He put June on the ground. “Ensign Miller, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has the Union gained control over the Gulf Coast?”

Ensign Miller squinted at Papa. “I can’t believe you folks don’t even know.”

Papa stepped off the porch. “Don’t know what?”

“Sir, General Lee surrendered to General Grant at the Appomattox Court House in Virginia back on April the ninth. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the war is over and the Confederacy has fallen.”

Mama grabbed the porch rail and leaned into it for support. “Do you really mean it? The war is over?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Miller’s horse nuzzled his ear. He pushed the horse away. “I suppose you don’t know that President Lincoln was assassinated either.”

Margaret covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. How could the war be over? The war had consumed every hour, every minute, every second of her life for the past four years…and now, just like that, it was over. And President Lincoln…oh, that poor man, and his family. This horrible war had taken so much, so much away from both sides.

“The war is over! The war is over.” June began jumping up and down.

Margaret sank into a rocking chair. She was afraid she might drop with all the spinning going on inside her head.

Mama and Papa asked the ensign a myriad of questions.

Margaret’s mind was a swirl of unsettling emotions. What had become of Thomas? Did he know the war was over? Was he on his way back for her now?

~*~

Papa invited Ensign Miller inside.

Margaret scraped the last of the ground coffee into the pot. It was barely enough to change the water from clear to brown. She put the pot on the stove and went in to join the others in the front room.

Mama sat next to Papa.

June and Jeremiah sat on the floor, playing with toys. Jeremiah cooed with laughter as June sang her made-up song to him. “The war is over. The war is over. Yippy skippy, yippy skippy, the war is over.”

Ensign Miller laughed and then looked at Papa. “Mr. Logan, I was sent here to report that Acting Lighthouse Engineer, M. F. Bonzano, has already prepared a three-story wooden tower in New Orleans to be erected here on Bolivar Point. It has always been common knowledge that the port at Galveston, Texas, is of utmost importance to the United States, and it is imperative that a light be erected as soon as humanly possible.”

Papa held Mama’s hand, but then let go and scooted to the edge of his seat. “Ensign Miller, I find it hard to believe that the war could be over when only a week ago, a Confederate blockade runner, The Denbigh, ran ashore right off the coast here.” Papa sounded indignant as he gestured toward the beach. “Most of the crew came ashore after the Union boarded her and set her on fire, for heaven’s sake!” Disbelief colored Papa’s stark tone.

Miller pulled a pure-white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Logan. I suppose word hasn’t trickled down here as yet. I do know that the structure is expected to arrive here sometime in July, and I was sent here to inspect the sight and report back to Engineer Bonzano on my findings.” He put his hanky back in his pocket. “Sir, whether you believe the war is over or not, that lighthouse is coming and we need to be ready for it.”

“All right, say I believe the war’s over and this lighthouse is on its way. What’s gonna become of me and my family?”

Ensign Miller put his hands up. “There’s no need to be defensive here, Mr. Logan. I didn’t come here to cause you or your family any harm. In fact, Engineer Bonzano was quite familiar with the fine work you did at your post back in Louisiana, and I was told that if I found you were still here, to inform you that this post is yours for the taking.”

Mama clamped a hand over her mouth and fell back in her chair. She made a strange sound like a cry mixed with glee.

Margaret gasped and clutched her chest.

A rare smile overcame Papa’s face and he patted Mama’s knee. “That sounds like an interesting offer, Ensign Miller.” He looked at Mama and smiled. “But what can you tell me about the New Orleans lights?”

Margaret remembered she had coffee on the stove and rushed to the kitchen. She touched the handle and immediately pulled her hand back. “Ouch.” She put two fingers in her mouth and then grabbed a towel for the handle.

“As far as I know, the Port Pontchartrain light was dismantled just as this one was and hasn’t been rebuilt, to date. And I believe the New Canal light was relit during the war and the previous keeper is once again manning that station.” Miller accepted the cup Margaret handed him. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Mama took her cup and then Papa.

“I suppose there’s no longer a lighthouse post for us in Louisiana,” Papa said.

“Papa, we can’t go back to Louisiana. If Elizabeth goes to Austin, we need to stay in Texas. And what if Thomas returns and we’re not here? We can’t leave, Papa.”

Papa raised his hand. “Calm down, Margaret. I know we can’t go back, honey.” He turned his attention back to Miller and chuckled. “Well, I guess you have your answer, Ensign. We’ll take the post.”

Miller stood and offered his hand to Papa, who rose and accepted his handshake. “That’s wonderful, Mr. Logan. Mr. Bonzano will be pleased to hear the news.” He continued to shake Papa’s hand. “Oh…and if it’s not too much of a burden, I would like to request permission to lodge with you and your family until the erection of the lighthouse is completed.”

Papa released his hand and folded his arms. “Well, I suppose that won’t be a problem. We’re running short on food, but what’s one more mouth to feed. We’ll find a way.”

Miller shook his head. “Oh yes, of course, I almost forgot. I have six months of lighthouse rations with me to give to you and your family. It’s back at the dock, waiting to be picked up.”

June jumped up from the floor. Her eyes were wide with excitement as she approached Ensign Miller and put her hands on his bent knees. She leaned in. “Is rations food? You brought food for us?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have plenty of food for your whole family.”

“Yippee.” June twirled around.

Miller patted his breast pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. He handed it to Papa. “This money should cover your expenses.”

Papa opened the envelope and thumbed through the bills. A low whistle escaped his lips.

Mama’s hand covered her mouth.

Only weeks before, the family worried about how they would pay for Elizabeth’s treatment. Now they had more than enough.

Papa leaned toward Mama and put the envelope in her hands. He whispered in her ear, but Margaret overheard what he said. “Sees, Caroline…didn’t I tell you?”

Tears ran down Mama’s cheeks. She held the envelope to her chest. “My God will provide. My God will provide.”

Margaret offered her own silent prayer of thanksgiving.