Northern Light by Annette O'Hare Page A

there.” A chair slid back.
    “There’s nothing you can do over there but get yourself killed. Now sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
    “Caroline…what are we going to do about Elizabeth? She’s getting more disobedient as each day passes.”
    The strong aroma of fresh coffee floated out of the kitchen.
    “I don’t know, Jeb.” There was a long pause. “Here we are in the middle of a war and she’s gone missing. I don’t know if I should be worried sick or mad as a hornet!”
    “I’m leaning toward the mad side myself,” Papa said.
    Mama gave a low laugh.
    “The other day I caught her eavesdropping on my conversation with Thomas! I don’t know what’s got into that gal.”
    Margaret’s eyebrows rose. If Papa caught her eavesdropping, he’d be upset. She had not done so intentionally; her parents were talking rather loudly and she couldn’t help but hear. Still, she was in the wrong. Please forgive me, Father.
    A cabinet door opened and something big clanked. More thumping was heard and then another chair was pulled out. Mama must have been moving her potato peeling to the table. “It seems like things have gone from bad to worse since we brought Thomas here.”
    “Aw, I don’t know that he has anything to do with it. I hate to say it, but she’s starting to act just like Emma used to.”
    “Don’t talk like that,” Mama snapped at Papa. “Elizabeth isn’t in her condition.”
    Who were they talking about?
    “I’m sorry, hon.” Papa paused before changing his tune. “Well, maybe she’s starting to…you know.”
    She heard Mama drop a potato into the bowl. “What, get her monthly?”
    “Caroline, hold your tongue, there are three men living in this house, for goodness sakes!”
    Margaret clamped her hand over her mouth to hold in the laugh trying to escape.
    “Jebediah Logan, for as long as you’ve been living in a house full of women, you should be used to our ways by now. Besides, you’re the only man in this house right now. Jeremiah is just a baby, and Mr. Murphy is out piddling around in the garden.”
    “So what do you think about our Mr. Murphy?”
    “And just what do you mean by that?”
    “I was just wondering how you feel about him. You know he’s had a hard life—even before he came to America.”
    “Oh, how’s that?”
    “Well, you cutting those potatoes made me think about him telling me how he lost some of his family in that horrible potato famine we read about.”
    “It’s a cruel world we live in, Jeb. I only hope some good will come of this war—somehow.” Another potato dropped into the bowl. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve taken a liking to Thomas. I’ve even thought—”
    Cannon fire exploded, drowning her parents’ voices. Jeremiah wailed and Margaret hugged him to her.
    “…our Margaret.”
    “I don’t think that will be as hard as you think, darling.” Papa chuckled.
    Margaret wanted to run into the kitchen and demand to be told what had been said about her, but of course she didn’t.
    The front door opened.
    “Elizabeth, where on earth have you been? Papa gave us a chore to do hours ago and you just up and disappeared.” Cross with her sister, Margaret patted Jeremiah’s back.
    Mama and Papa came into the front room.
    “Stop exaggerating, Margaret. It hasn’t been hours.” Elizabeth’s words came back with fury. “Besides, it’s none of your business where I’ve been.”
    “Well, it may not be Margaret’s business, but it certainly is mine, young lady,” Mama said.
    Papa stood strong behind her.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth shrank at Mama’s stern words and her bottom lip quivered as tears rolled down her cheeks.
    “Where have you been?”
    “I went over to Mr. and Mrs. Milton’s place to check if they had any eggs for sale. I was just trying to help out, Mama.”
    “How were you going to get eggs without any money?” Margaret asked.
    “I thought I’d see if they had some before I asked you for money.”