Margaret had no idea where the ducks came from, but everyone was very thankful for the gift.
Mama had asked Necie not to mention Elizabeth’s illness to anyone else on the peninsula.
Margaret had told Necie the truth on one of her now-frequent trips to visit her at the Stoltzes’ place. The slave girl didn’t care in the least that Elizabeth was having mental issues. She simply accepted it and spent time soothing her friend.
Margaret took a seat in the rocking chair next to Papa. The sweet aroma of his pipe tobacco swirled through the air.
June instructed Jeremiah how to sit on the ground with his legs spread wide apart. She sat opposite him, touching her feet to his, making a small containment area for the baby ducks. Their hysterical laughter was an indication that the duck feathers must tickle their legs.
“Look at those two filthy kids, Jeb.” Mama tore a rag in two for the next section of the rug. “It all seems so long ago.”
“What seems so long ago, Mama?” Margaret leaned forward in her chair to look at her.
“Oh, I was reminiscing with Papa about our Easter celebrations back in New Orleans. How we would all dress up in our finery for church.” Mama’s gaze wandered off to a place where memories lived. “And I can just taste all the wonderful food we had…the roasted ham hock and enough vegetables for an army. Goodness, we would just now be sitting down to our glorious meal.”
“Well, those days are over, Mama.” Margaret regretted her cynical tone as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
“I know, but I can dream, can’t I? Besides, Papa’s Bible reading was as good as any Easter service we’ve ever attended.”
Papa coughed and blew out a long stream of smoke. “Well, I don’t know about all that.”
“Oh, Papa, you did a great job.” Margaret patted his knee. A long sigh escaped. “I fixed a tray and took it in to Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, dear. Did she eat anything?” Mama asked.
“Not much to speak of…but she talked to me this time.”
Papa sat up. “Really now? What did she say?”
“She apologized…and begged for my forgiveness. I told her I already forgave her some time ago.”
“Well, that’s some progress at least.” Mama wove the piece of torn cloth into the section she braided. “Now if she would just get up and join the family again…”
“Mama, Elizabeth isn’t getting better. If anything, she’s worse than before when she was causing so much trouble.”
“How can you say that? She sure isn’t bothering anybody now.”
“Listen to me, Mama…Papa. Elizabeth said she doesn’t have the will to live anymore. Does that sound like she’s getting better?” Her voice began to quiver. “Do you hear what I’m saying? She feels so bad off that she wants to die.” She swiped away a tear rolling down her cheek and turned her full attention to Papa. “I beg of you, Papa, we’ve got to do something for her. You don’t want her ending up like Mr. Langley’s son, do you?”
Mr. Langley’s son had taken a turn for the worse after Elizabeth stopped coming to care for him. She truly had been helping.
Papa puffed on his pipe and looked off into thin air, perhaps thinking on how to answer her.
Mama kept on working on her rug.
“I believe it was last year some time I read an article in the
Houston Telegraph
. It could have been the year before, I don’t remember, but there was an article about a hospital that opened up in Austin a few years back that can help treat people with problems like Elizabeth. I think it was called the Texas Lunatic Asylum,” Papa said, his tone calm.
Hope rose in Margaret’s heart. “Papa, if you think there’s any way they can help, then we have to take Elizabeth there. Please, Papa.”
“Our daughter is not a lunatic, Jeb. She just needs some rest and she’ll be fine.” Mama dropped the piece of cloth she was working into the rug. She scowled at Papa.
“Caroline, have you ever thought that if there had been a place like this for Cousin Emma, she might still be with us today?”
“What else did the article say, Papa?”
“Well, if I remember correctly, it said that the cure for this kind of illness is some kind of structured environment. I think they put the patients on some kind of daily routine where they have certain household chores and they can talk to doctors and other people who are in the same situation. I think it would be a good idea for Elizabeth so she can get her mind right again.”
Mama dropped her handiwork on the porch and put her face in her hands, sobbing.
“What is it, Mama?”
“I know Elizabeth needs help…but.” Mama’s sobs took over.
“But what, Mama?”
“It’s just that if we send Elizabeth away, then everyone will know she’s crazy.”
“What’s more important, Mama, being embarrassed about your daughter or her getting the help she needs before she does something to hurt herself?”
Papa stood and walked to the edge of the porch. He tamped his pipe on the porch rail, sending a cloud of ashes floating into the wind. He turned toward them and leaned against the railing. “Caroline, you know Margaret’s right. Elizabeth is sick and nothing we’re doing is helping her one bit. She sits in that bed, day after day, refusing to eat or talk to us. Can’t you see she’s wasting away, honey?” He choked and turned his head. “If there’s anything we can do so she doesn’t end up like Emma, then I say we do it.”
“So what do you think, Mama?” Margaret pleaded, hoping her mother would relent.
Mama sniffed back tears. “Whatever Papa decides…that’s what we’ll do.”
“Then that settles it,” Papa said. “I’ll plan to take Elizabeth to Austin. With all the comings and goings over at the fort, I’d like to go before the end of the month. Caroline, start thinking about what she will need to be gone for a month or more.”
“A month…or more?” Mama’s face looked as if he’d said five years instead of one month. “But, Jeb, how will we ever pay for her to stay a whole month?”
“I don’t know, but somehow God will provide. We’ve got to trust Him on this.”
A heavy load seemed to lift from Margaret’s heart. Elizabeth was finally getting the help she needed. Now Margaret’s concern was Mama. She would have to help her mama to hold it together, at least long enough for Papa and Elizabeth to go on their way. Margaret could almost guarantee the next few weeks weren’t going to be easy.
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.”