Read Online Northern Light by Annette O'Hare - Free Book Online

gave me permission to work in the garden...said it would be a great help to him."
    Margaret turned, irritated at how calm he appeared when she was madder than a wet hen. She dropped to the ground where the seeds had fallen.
    Thomas knelt down beside her and helped gather them.
    Margaret arose from the ground and dumped the seeds out onto Papa’s makeshift wooden table and began sorting, grudgingly acknowledging in her mind that he’d been most helpful, even though she still didn’t like him and had made that plain to him. She paused for a moment and glanced up.
    Thomas had worked the soil, his hoed rows perfectly even. His tall, broad shoulders barely fit in one of Papa’s shirts. His dark hair was tied back with a string, accentuating his jawline. He was the epitome of manliness, not embarrassed to work the soil, as if firm in the conviction of where God placed him on this earth. He looked confident…the way a good husband should.
    She turned back to the seed table, ashamed of gawking with the brazen desire of still wanting a husband, despite her Jeffrey now lying in the cold ground. Anger welled up against the object of her yearning. “Mr. Murphy…I rue the day I ever set eyes on you.” She didn’t raise her head from the pile of seeds.
    Thomas stopped working the ground to rub his injured shoulder. The action of hoeing must be causing a great amount of pain.
    “Does your shoulder hurt?” She looked at him. “I hope those soldiers’ bullets hurt you like your people have hurt our southern way of life.” She huffed out a breath. “You’re probably one of those fool Yankees who think the war is about freeing the slaves. For heaven’s sake, what’s it to you if a few southerners own slaves to help out with their farms?” Margaret completely abandoned the seeds and turned to face the man.
    “Miss Margaret, I’ve felt my fair share of pain because of this war, but you know what, I’d do it all over again if it would help to free the slaves. Now there’s a people who have suffered a great deal more than you and I will ever know. Ye might know that if ye’d ever taken the chance to talk to one of them.”
    Margaret felt her cheeks warm. “Do you really think those Negroes care one way or another? Besides, if they were given their freedom, they would probably run back to their masters lickety-split because they wouldn’t even know how to survive on their own.”
    Thomas gave her a look of disdain and shook his head. “I know you only speak from ignorance, but if ye knew the truth about the Negro people, you would be telling a far different story, to be sure, lass.”
    “If anyone around here is ignorant, it would be you, Mr. Murphy! If you had any sense at all, you would know that the North doesn’t care one bit about the Negroes. All they want is to lord their power over the South!” She clenched her fists on the seed table. “If anything, the North is using the slaves as an excuse to cover up their real agenda…tyranny.”
    “Aye, yer Papa had much of the same opinions about the war. But no matter what ye think is the cause behind it, you’ve got to admit that owning another human being is not the Christian thing to do, lass.” Thomas’s eyes softened.
    Margaret whipped her head back in astonishment that this man, a stranger, a foreigner…a Yankee, would dare question her Christian values. “Well. Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Murphy, if slavery is so bad, then why is it talked about between the pages of the Bible?”
    Thomas paused. “Have ye ever sang the song ‘Amazing Grace’?”
    “Of course I have! Before we moved to this godforsaken peninsula, my family belonged to one of the most respected Christian churches in New Orleans.”
    “Did ye know the song was written by the captain of a slave ship?”
    “No, I did not. But that just proves my point. Anyone who could write a song like ‘Amazing Grace’ had to be an upstanding Christian man.”
    “Aye, he was, but not at the