Northern Light by Annette O'Hare

Lizbeth found that big ol’ cannon ball right in the middle of our cotton field. She said it coulda hit any one of us square in the head and knocked us plumb cuckoo.”
    Of course she would remember that… she remembered everything . Margaret wanted to laugh but stopped when Mama pointed her finger at June.
    “You better watch that sassy mouth of yours, Miss Priss.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” June hung her head.
    Mama looked up at Margaret. “You know, if I had my way, I’d put both President Davis and President Lincoln in a room and deprive them of any and all modern conveniences until they settled their differences without one more drop of bloodshed.” She hugged her baby tight. “But I suppose that won’t happen any time soon.” She covered Jeremiah’s ear with her hand as she raised her voice. “Elizabeth! I need you in the kitchen. Where could that girl be?” Mama picked up a cup towel from the table and wiped her hands.
    “You know good and well she’s probably flittin’ around somewhere…up to no good,” June said.
    Mama gave June a warning look.
    You’re one smart little girl, June Marie, probably right too. Margaret kept those thoughts to herself. “I told you, Mama. She’s nowhere to be found.”
    Another blast of cannon fire tore through the air and this time, Jeremiah wailed.
    Margaret felt terrible for Mama. The bowl of unpeeled potatoes and the ingredients for cornbread were forgotten. A labored sigh escaped her mama’s lips, and she paused a moment before handing Margaret the baby boy. She put her hands on June’s shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen door. “Margaret, I’m sorry, but I need you more than your papa does right now. Take these two young’uns to the front room and see if you can’t distract them until I get dinner made or this war’s over…whichever comes first.”
    “Mama, when is Elizabeth going to start doing her share of the work around here?”
    Mama exhaled a long breath as she nudged the two girls toward the door. “Margaret, please, just do this for me, and I’ll take care of your sister when and if she decides to show up for dinner.”
    Margaret pursed her lips as Mama returned to the sink. She wiped her brow and picked up another potato as Margaret ducked around the corner and into the front room.
    The back screen door flew open and Papa made his presence known in the kitchen. “Where in the world are Margaret and Elizabeth? I gave them a job to do and they’ve up and disappeared. What in tarnation is going on around here? When I give an order, I expect it to be followed, Caroline.”
    Margaret leaned against the wall that ran between the front room and the kitchen. She lowered her baby brother to the floor and he toddled to June. The little actress was lying flat on her back on the big oval rug, pretending to be a forlorn princess banished to the Tower of London.
    “Jebediah, don’t go blaming Margaret.” Mama’s voice came slow and even. “She told me you had chores for them and she’s been looking for Elizabeth too. We don’t know where that girl is. And I’m the one who asked Margaret to help me so I can get dinner ready. Now come on in here and have a seat.”
    A kitchen chair scraped the floor. One of the cabinets creaked as it was opened. Water flowed and a low clank meant the coffee pot was being put on the stove.
    A particularly loud cannon blast shook the house.
    “Father, Your protection over this family.” Mama called out for divine help.
    Jeremiah screamed and raised his hands in the air before he toddled to Margaret.
    She scooped him up and patted his back.
    June raised her head from the rug.
    Margaret put a finger to her lips, warning her sister to remain silent, while she soothed Jeremiah.
    June’s eyes rolled back and she sighed, letting her head fall to the rug with a thump.
    Something that sounded like her father’s fist hit the table with a loud bang. “That’s it. I’m going to the coast to see what’s happening down