June leaned back over Margaret’s drawing. “So this must be the third candle, right?”
Margaret smiled. “Good guess, but no, it’s this one. The third candle is all about joy and the shepherds who were the first people to ever hear about Jesus being born in Bethlehem.”
June pointed to the candle at the center of the wreath. “Well, then this has to be the fourth candle.”
“No, silly, it’s this one.”
“I know, but I got every other guess wrong. Thought I might as well get this one wrong too.”
Everyone laughed at what June said, except Elizabeth, that is. She sat on her chair with a face as hard as stone and arms folded across her chest.
Margaret was encouraged that at least Mama and June were becoming interested. “OK, the fourth candle stands for peace. And Lord knows, we could use some peace on earth right about now. Anyway, it’s when we remember the angels that told about Christ’s birth. Then, of course, we have the biggest candle here in the center of the wreath.” She smiled at June. “We burn it on Christmas Eve in honor of Jesus and His death on the cross. And that’s it.” She sat down at the table and looked at her mama and sisters, waiting for any questions.
Mama bent down and picked up the carved duck toy from the floor and handed it to Jeremiah. “So is that all there is to it, lighting candles?”
Margaret perked up and shook her head. She held up her notes to them. “Oh, no, there’s scripture reading and singing, and I thought we could make special meals to go along with the celebration.”
Mama furrowed her brow and adjusted Jeremiah on her lap again. “Margaret, you know we don’t have much in the line of food to cook for a celebration.”
“I know, Mama, but we’re gonna eat something anyhow, so we might as well make a celebration out of it.” She pleaded with her eyes, knowing what a soft spot Mama had for the Christmas season. “Come on, Mama, can we please do this? Besides, it’s not the food that matters. It’s that we remember Jesus on His birthday.”
Mama sighed. “All right, Margaret, we’ll do this, but it will take some work to make it happen.”
Margaret threw her arms around her mother and Jeremiah. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Mama. This is going to be the best Christmas we’ve ever had.”
Mama started giggling along with Jeremiah and then June. “Margaret, you’re going to squeeze the life out of us, for heaven’s sake.”
June joined them on the other side of the table. “Mama, can I start collecting the stuff to make the Advent wreath?”
Mama arose from her chair. “Yes, yes, but don’t stray too far from the house.”
June smiled and jumped up and down. “I won’t.” She grabbed her baby brother’s feet. “We’re gonna have an Advent, Jeremiah!” He kicked his feet and giggled.
Margaret tapped her finger on her temple. “OK, I’m gonna need to find five candles. Mama, how many beeswax candles do we have in the pantry?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to check for yourself,” Mama answered.
Elizabeth got up and headed for the kitchen door.
“Elizabeth,” Mama called to her. “I need you to give me a hand with Jeremiah while I cook.
“Elizabeth, did you hear me?”
Elizabeth opened the door without turning around. “I’m going to Mr. Langley’s house to help him with his son. He needs me.”
“Elizabeth,” Mama called.
The door slammed behind her.
“Just let her go, Mama. I’ve got Jeremiah.”
“What is wrong with Lizbeth? I guess she don’t even care about the Baby Jesus!” June shook her head in dismay.
“Come on, June, we’ll take Jeremiah and go look for the Advent decorations together. Sound like fun?”
“Yeah, at least some of us love Baby Jesus.”
Mama smiled at her youngest daughter through glistening eyes.
But inside, Margaret was certain her mama’s heart was breaking to pieces for Elizabeth.
17
Thomas’s hand brushed against Margaret’s as they walked the property in search of the perfect tree for their Christmas celebration. She turned her hand and he took hold of it.
Thin stalks of purple seagrass bowed their heads as the crisp late-November breeze whipped past.
“What exactly have ye got in mind for a Christmas tree, lass?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose anything we can find that the little ones can hang things on.”
“Well, we’ve walked every inch of this property and haven’t found anything yet.”
“Oh!” Margaret stopped in her tracks.
“What is it, lass?”
“I just thought of something we could use. I know where there’s a huge piece of coral that is sort of shaped like a tree. Of course, it won’t have any foliage like a real tree, but we could add some palm fronds to it. That should work well enough, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so. Where is it?”
“Over in the slough.” Margaret pointed.
“Well, let’s go and fetch it.”
“Did you know Mama and Papa will celebrate twenty years of marriage next year?”
“Aye, twenty years, that’s quite a legacy for you and yer sisters and brother. They’re quite a good example for ye. And not much fighting between them either.” He laughed.
“What, do Irish couples have a reputation of fighting?”
“It’s not just the couples that like to fight. All good Irish like to fight.”
Margaret swung their hands back and forth as they walked. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. “Thomas…have you ever thought about…getting married?”
~*~
Her question caught him off-guard. Of course he’d thought about marriage. Of late he’d done a lot of thinking about marrying the raven-haired beauty. “Aye, I suppose I’ve always had a mind to get married and raise some children. And how about you, do ye ever think about marriage?” Thomas inwardly winced.
What are ye thinkin’, ye fool? Of course she’s thought about marriage. She was engaged, for heaven’s sake.
If he’d upset her, she didn’t let it show. She did, however, stop swinging their hands and slowly rubbed his hand with her thumb. “Of course I have. It’s every girl’s dream to get married.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that. And what about children. Have ye ever thought about having children?”
A glow rose in her cheeks. “I suppose I’d like to have a child…or maybe two.”
“Do ye now? Well then, lassie, you’d better find yerself a husband first.”
Margaret softly tapped his arm.
Thomas burst out laughing. “Ye know, this conversation reminds me of a tradition we had back in my homeland. Every year at Halloween time, it was a custom to prepare a dish called
cál ceannann
.” He scratched his head. “I think here in America it’s called colcannon. Anyway, it’s a mixture of potatoes and cabbage or kale, boiled together with scallions.”
They reached the log at the slough.
Margaret pointed to a mud bog. “There’s the coral over there. Do you see it?”
“Aye, I do. Seems to be stuck in a bit of mud.”
“Yes, it is.” Margaret spoke in a more-than-nonchalant tone. “Looks like one of us will have to get wet and muddy.”
“I suppose that would be me.”
“Let’s sit a spell before you go in after it.”
“Sounds like a very good idea, lass.”
They sat on the big log.
It was hard to believe that only a short time ago, she hated everything about him. His heart was ready to take the plunge. Now she was too.
“So I don’t see how this cal…cal…whatever you call it, has anything to do with our conversation.” Margaret drew him away from his thoughts.
“Oh, right, well, after the vegetables are mashed together with milk, butter, salt, and pepper, four little items would be stirred in, a thimble, a ring, a button, and a coin.”
“Why would you do that?”
“The tradition says that each item has a meaning and whoever got one of them in their bowl, then that was a telling of their future.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, of course not, but I’m sure there are many who do.”
“So tell me, what is the meaning of each thing?”
“Let’s see, the coin meant you would have wealth. The ring meant that you would marry, and if you were already married, then your happiness would continue. Both the button and the thimble meant that the person would never marry.”
“I suppose I’d need to find that ring now, wouldn’t I?” She squeezed his arm.
“Aye, lass, I hope that ye would.” Thomas began pulling off his boots and rolling up his trousers. “And I suppose I should go and fetch yer coral Christmas tree.” He walked to the edge of the slough and stepped into the water before letting out a long, loud whistle. “Oh my, but this water is a might cold.”
Margaret covered her mouth and giggled.
He would do anything for her, even wade through waist-deep, freezing-cold water to retrieve a piece of coral. If there had been any doubt before, there could be none after today. Thomas Murphy was madly in love.
~*~
Jeremiah toddled toward Thomas, his apple cheeks glowing and his hand outstretched. Thomas threaded a piece of string through a small hole in one of the seashells and tied it into a loop before the little boy reached him.
Margaret sat on the floor beside him, helping with the stringing. “Go on, ask him for more, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah tapped his palm. “Mo peas.”
“Ye want another, do ye?”
Jeremiah nodded and took the seashell from Thomas’s hand.
The huge piece of coral made a beautiful Christmas tree.
The two youngest children had done a good job decorating it with all sorts of offerings from the beach. Seashells, starfish, sand dollars, and even crab claws hung from bits of string.
Margaret cut red ribbons from an old skirt and added them here and there to give the makeshift tree a homey touch. It was a wonderful display of Christmas spirit, albeit a smelly one—thanks to the sea creatures.
Mr. Logan sat in his rocking chair, reading while they had their fun.
Mrs. Logan and Elizabeth were in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal, something they hadn’t done together for some time.
Thomas felt a surge of happiness because of the wonderful family he’d come to know and love and that they allowed him to be a part of it.
“We did it, we did it. All the decorations are done!” June jumped up. “Come on, everybody! It’s time for the Advent party to start!”
Mr. Logan must have dozed off in his chair, as June’s outburst caused him to jump, sending his newspaper flying through the air.
Mrs. Logan called from the kitchen. “We’ll be there in just a minute.”
“Thomas, will you pull that table over here by my chair?” Mr. Logan sat up.
“Yes, sir, I’d be much obliged.” Thomas moved the table already set up with a wreath and candles.
“Papa, Papa, can I light the first Advent candle, pleeeease?” June begged.
Mama entered the room.
Elizabeth trailed behind, her arms crossed, her expression seeming to indicate a lack of desire to participate.
“Sure you can. Go fetch a stick from the fireplace,” Papa answered June.
“Mr. Logan, wait. I was wondering if I might say something before we light the candle?” Thomas was solemn.
“Sure, son, go right ahead. Hold off a minute, June.”
“Now, I’ve n’er done this before, so please allow me a bit o’ grace.”
~*~
“Don’t worry, Thomas. You’ll do just fine.” Margaret patted his arm.
“My mam used to tell us that the first candle of Advent is for the prophet Isaiah, who foretold of the birth of Jesus.” He looked over at Papa. “Might I borrow yer family Bible, Mr. Logan?”
“Of course you can. June, hop up and give Mr. Murphy the Bible.”
“Yes, sir.”
June had to use both hands to pick up the huge Bible. She took a long whiff of the leather binding before dropping the book into Thomas’s hands.
“Ye think the leather smells nice, lass?” Thomas asked.
“Uh-huh,” she answered before plopping back down.
Thomas thumbed to the book of Isaiah, chapter nine. He began to read. “
For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder: and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.
” He closed the Good Book and turned to Mr. Logan. “Would ye please say a prayer, sir?”
Papa cleared his throat. “Heavenly Father, we humble ourselves before Your throne. Lord, we thank You for those that have gone before us, our sweet baby Joseph and Thomas’s mama and baby sister. Thank You, Father, for the time we had with them. And, Lord, we pray for Thomas’s papa and brothers, that they would be safe and that this old war would be over soon. In Your Son’s name we pray. Amen.”
Thomas wiped away a tear after Papa’s prayer.
Papa motioned to June. “Go on, you can light the candle now.”
June set the small stick aflame.
Jeremiah stretched to see the candle being lit.
Thomas’s face glowed with adoration as he watched the two little ones.
The candlelight flickering on their petite round faces was a beautiful sight.
Thomas reached for Margaret’s hand and held it tight. Then he began to sing in a smooth tenor.
“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.”
Margaret joined him in perfect harmony. “
Praise Him, all creatures here below.”
A loud crash made everyone stop singing.
Elizabeth stood. One of mama’s good glasses lay shattered at her feet. She didn’t move but stared blankly at the rest of the family. Then she turned and walked toward their bedroom.
Mrs. Logan buried her face in her hands.
“Come on now, let’s sing.” Papa said, lifting his mighty bass voice.
“Praise Him above, ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen
.”
Margaret pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to Mama. “She’ll be all right, Mama. She’s just got a case of the blues, that’s all.”
Mama leaned into Margaret’s embrace. She spoke softly so the others wouldn’t hear, but Thomas was so close he probably heard. Her words sounded heavy, desperate, hopeless. “She’s not all right, Margaret, and she’s not getting any better like we thought she would. She won’t ever be all right again.”