TWO #2
Maggie shared stories of her family growing up, especially her fondness for her brothers.
The only story she did not share was the attack in the woods. She couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. Much less think of what Abigail might conclude if she only told a few small details.
Unlike her mother, Abigail didn’t criticize her daily. If Maggie didn’t know how to do something or do it correctly the first time, Abigail poured encouragement over her. Was willing to go over a task, step by step, again and again if Maggie asked.
One such day at the loom, Maggie noticed Levi and Elijah walking to the house. Despite having worked all day, both appeared in good spirits. Levi clasped his hand on Elijah’s shoulder, and she watched as they laughed at something one of them had said.
It was the perfect picture of a father-son relationship.
Abigail followed Maggie’s gaze out the window and smiled. “Nothing makes thy heart soar as it does watching those two together. He loves his boy so.”
“Levi is a good father.”
Something in her tone caused Abigail to turn her head towards her. “What is thee thinking of?”
Maggie focused on the wool before her. “Nothing. It’s easy to see that Levi would do anything for Elijah.”
In truth, as much as Maggie loved being with the Howards, it was painful watching Levi and Elijah together.
Too many memories of her own father surfaced.
How often had she watched at the window for Papa and the boys to come traipsing back from the fields together?
A beautiful family picture, never to be seen again.
All three senselessly lost. Clearing her throat, Maggie weaved the dyed wool through the warp.
Abigail intuitively watched. “And it reminds thee of home?”
Maggie sighed. The wonder of discernment that brother and sister seemed to share would never be lost on her. “Yes.” Abigail would know if she told a lie.
“Thee has spoken of thy father passing in battle, but—forgive me. I’ve noticed that thee doesn’t mention thy father as often as the rest of thy family…Was thy relationship not close?”
Resigning to the conversation, Maggie let the wool thread fall.
“More so with the boys. They were together most days. Doing ‘man’s work.’ I was usually stuck inside with Mama as she tried to reform me into a presentable woman.
But I would beg Papa to let me go with them.
I was sure they were having much more fun than I was. ”
“And did he let thee go?”
“Sometimes. Mama would be cross when we came home, covered in mud and leaves. But, if we came home bearing something for supper, it lessened her displeasure.” Maggie smiled, remembering Mama’s face as she held up a string of fish. Disbelief mixed with something akin to happiness.
“Thee must miss them very much.”
She snorted. “Mama, yes. Hugh and Joel, probably the most. But Papa… It’s complicated. I try not to think of him.”
Abigail remained quiet after her confession. Finally, she asked, “Why not?”
It was a long while before Maggie answered.
Although she could not lie, she wasn’t sure how much of the truth would shock Abigail.
“Because he is to blame. For everything that’s happened.
Hugh. Joel. Mama and…” She turned pale as she thought of the time alone with Mama, dying.
And what happened after she died—almost starving.
The trio of soldiers at the creek. James with his knife. “And everything.”
“Didn’t thy brothers die in battle and thy mother from illness?”
Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Only because he enlisted. He was old enough not to fight. He didn’t have to, but he chose to leave.
” She went on to tell how, in the days leading up to Papa’s departure, he riled the household with his talk of ‘patriotic duty.’ The importance of keeping power in the hands of the state.
“Of course, Joel and Hugh looked to him as their idol. Whatever Papa said was good as gold. Mama cried, begged, and pleaded with him not to leave us. Deep down, she knew that if he stayed, so would the boys,” Maggie gulped.
“But he didn’t listen. He cared more about doing what he felt was just than about his own family.
He didn’t have to suffer like we did. Like I did. ”
She didn’t realize that she had started to cry until Abigail handed her a handkerchief. “I know the boys would’ve gone either way eventually. Because of the draft. But it would’ve bought them a few months. They might not have been at Gettysburg if
they had waited. One of the things Mama kept saying over and over was that her family connections near Charleston might help keep Papa and the boys from harm.
But Papa would have none of it. ‘I take care of my own family,’ he told her.
What an arrogant fool! His pride caused his fall.
And the rest of the family’s. Beautiful Mama, his greatest treasure, reduced to a frail, grey-haired woman at the end.
The two boys, his joy, gone and lost forever on some distant battlefield.
The farm burned to the ground. All that’s left is me,” Maggie’s voice broke. “Not even worth anything.”
Abigail grasped her hands tightly. “Margaret, thee is worth everything. Thee is his child, too. His blood and his legacy. He would be proud of how far thee has come and how strong thee is. Thy father was human. And we all make mistakes— none of us is perfect. He did what he thought he must, and we can only answer for ourselves. Remember the good times and the love thy family shared. Surely, out of all the tales I have heard of them, love was evident.” She reached up to touch Maggie’s face.
“I urge thee, do not let these evil thoughts take thee prisoner. Let go of this pain and hatred. Forgive him. It will only bring thee harm if thee does not.”
Letting go, Abigail rose to meet the men in the kitchen, leaving Maggie to think over what was said and compose herself.
Maggie closed her eyes and tried to remember Papa’s face as he smiled at her.
How he tussled her hair as he came in the cabin door.
When he would wink and slip her an extra sweet under the table when Mama wasn’t looking and wink.
And, how he told her he loved her before bed each night.
Yes, he loved her. They might not have had the same relationship he shared with Joel and Hugh, but he did love her.
He couldn’t have known what enlisting would cost. No one but God alone could have predicted the disasters that followed.
Mama’s family might not have been able or willing to help them, despite her belief that they would. It wasn’t Papa’s fault.
Would it be right to throw away nearly sixteen years of happy memories, just to have someone to blame for her misfortunes? No. After all this time, it wasn’t something she found that she could do.
The sun was setting as she opened her eyes. She watched the rays beam down, turning the yellow leaves outside into beautiful golden shades. A cardinal bird perched on a branch outside the window.
Sighing, she whispered, “I forgive you, Papa.”
Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could’ve sworn the bird looked at her. She smiled and lifted a hand. Another shackle fell to the ground and the weight lifted from her.
The bird was getting ready to fly.