Child of Light Read online

  “Is it the baby?”

  “Yes.”

  It was too soon. As far as Margaret could tell the babe hadn’t even dropped down for the birthing. When should she call for Michael? There hadn’t been time to think ahead about anything.

  “All right, let’s sit a spell and see if it comes again.” She plumped the pillows making Josie comfortable and sat with her for what seemed like hours. The girl moaned and groaned, but there was not another strong birth pain as before. Margaret used the precious time to finish her needlework.

  After a time, her patient rested easy. Margaret admired the two articles of clothing she’d created and imagined how June and Jeremiah would look wearing them. If she rushed, she could possibly get them packaged and to the post office come morning time.

  Josie stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. She placed her hand on Margaret’s arm and spoke softly. “The birthing pains have passed.”

  “Oh? That’s a relief.”

  “Who did you make those for?” Josie asked, looking at her handiwork.

  Margaret smiled touching her little brother’s romper. “They’re for my little brother and sister back home in Texas. I hope they receive them before Christmas.”

  “You’re so sweet.” Josie’s head slumped to the side. “Can I ask you a question, Margaret?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come you and Thomas don’t have any children of your own? Don’t you want any?”

  Her words hung heavy in the air between them. Margaret gathered the outfits from the floor without looking at the girl. “Of course we want a child. But the good Lord hasn’t seen fit to bless us with one—not yet anyway.”

  Josie gave her arm a weak embrace. “Margaret…I might talk slow, but I ain’t a slow thinker. I know what illness I have, and I know I’m dying.”

  Margaret covered her mouth. A well of tears blurred her vision as she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said.

  “I’ve been wondering if you and your husband would raise my baby after I die?Maybe that’s why God brought us together in the first place.”

  How could the girl speak so calmly about her imminent death when Margaret could barely hold it together? Her body shook with silent sobs. “I’ve wanted a baby all my life, but not like this.”

  “Don’t cry.” Josie patted her arm. “What kind of mother would I be to a child anyway? And if I can’t raise it myself, I can’t think of anyone who would be a better mama than you.”

  Margaret fought back the tears. “It would be my honor to raise your baby. I would adore it as my very own.”

  A look of contentment came across Josie’s face as she nodded off to sleep.

  Margaret drew the covers up to her neck before rising from the floor. She started for the kitchen, but stopped stock-still. Oh, dear…perhaps I should have spoken to Thomas before I said yes.

  8

  Since returning from taking care of Hattie and her children, Margaret had checked on Josie’s condition, lit the stove, put a chicken on to boil, and helped Pappy sand a rocking horse he built for the children’s Christmas. Her father-in-law’s limbs were healing, and he grew stronger. He did what he could to help Margaret with Josie, who became weaker with each passing day.

  Returning to the kitchen, Margaret smirked upon seeing the cup of tea she had prepared earlier. She lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip and scowled. Once again her drink had turned as cold as the Boston winter. How long had it been since she’d sat and enjoyed a cup of hot tea?

  There was no time to worry over the loss of leisure time. She dove into cooking Thomas’s favorite meal, for later she would broach the important matter looming over all their heads.

  ~*~

  “This is the last one.” Margaret handed Pappy the dish to dry and put away. She was thankful for the extra hands, as she needed to work fast. Drying her hand on her apron, she untied it and hung it on a hook on the wall. She stood at the entrance to the living room.

  Thomas sat on the floor beside Josie coaxing spoonsful of broth down her throat.

  What great love she felt for her husband in that moment.

  “Ay, now, take one more. You need to keep yer strength up.”

  Josie raised her hand to him. “No more,” she whispered.

  “All right then, lass.” He handed Margaret the half-full bowl. A concerned look etched on his face. “She won’t take no more.”

  Margaret set the dish aside and helped her husband off the floor. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure, lass. What is it?”

  “Not here.” She spoke softly. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

  Thomas followed and sat on the bed beside her. He placed his hand on her leg, his brows furrowed. “Go on then, love?”

  Margaret sighed and covered his hand with hers. “Thomas…Josie told me she knows she’s going to die.”

  His shoulders drooped, and his gaze fell to the floor.

  “She has asked if we would take her baby in and raise it as our own.”

  Margaret couldn’t comprehend the look he gave her before he stood and walked around the bedroom. What must he be thinking about? At last, he turned to her.

  “I don’t know what to say…what do you think about raising someone else’s child?”

  She rubbed her lips together and stared at the wall as she spoke. “I don’t know if it’s because Christmas is so near, but I’m reminded of Joseph, the father of Jesus.” Margaret turned to Thomas. “Joseph was ever obedient to raise a child not his own. And I have to think that maybe this is God’s plan to bless us with a child.”

  Thomas leaned against the chest of drawers watching her with a steady gaze..

  “You know, I just don’t believe that me running into Josie on the street was a coincidence. I believe God has a plan and a reason for everything in our lives.”

  Moving to the bed, Thomas sat beside his wife and took her hand in his. “Then who am I to stand in the way of God’s plan?”

  Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. She wrapped her arms around her best friend and held on tight.

  ~*~

  Thomas set a lamp on the floor between himself and Margaret.

  Josie’s eyes slowly opened. She gave them a weak smile. Margaret picked her hand up and held onto it.”

  “Josie,” she began. “Thomas and I would like to speak with you.” Margaret rubbed the back of the girl’s gaunt hand with her thumb. “We want to make sure that what you told me are your actual wishes for the baby.”

  Josie nodded in acknowledgment.

  “And we were wondering…do you have any family who may want to raise the baby?”

  Josie swallowed hard before speaking, her voice gravelly. “If you only knew how much I wish I could have grown up in a family like y’all’s. Just since I been here, I can see how much love y’all have for each other.”

  Thomas exchanged a look with his wife. A tear trickled down Margaret’s cheek and he wiped it away.

  Josie looked up. “Margaret, you may not think so, but I know you’re an angel sent by God to save me. Now, I don’t understand everything you told me about what it says in the Bible, but if what you said about Jesus being able to forgive me of my sins is true, then I was thinking maybe one day I can be with my baby when I get to heaven.”

  Margaret’s chest heaved with sorrow, and she wiped her cheek on the arm of her blouse.

  Josie turned her gaze to Thomas. “Would you be willin’ to help me pray?”

  Thomas looked to be fighting back tears of his own. “Of course, I will, lass. Let’s all join hands.”

  They did as he asked. “Now, you can repeat the words after me.”

  By night’s end, Josie had prayed and received Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. The royal ruby red blood of Christ covered her guilty black sins and cleansed her as white as snow.

  9

  Fourth Sunday of Advent ~ Peace

  “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for the promise of Your coming. We pray You take away the wo
rries of our heart and replace them with Your peace. As we light these candles, we pray You blanket us in the assurance that You have prepared a place for us. May we vigilantly await Your physical appearance with peace in our hearts. Come, Lord Jesus. Amen.”

  ~*~

  “I love you,” Margaret said through the half-closed door.

  “I love you, too, lass.” Thomas kissed her full on the lips. “I’ll be home the regular time this evening.”

  “All right, goodbye, dear.” She closed the door quickly, so the cottage’s warm air didn’t escape. Oh, how she adored her man. The tender way he held Josie’s arm the Sunday before, helping her light the Advent candle filled her heart with joyous peace. A glance at the pallet confirmed the girl slept soundly. With the morning meal cooked and Thomas off to work, Margaret gathered what she needed before leaving for Hattie’s house. Pappy could help Josie when she awakened.

  “Margaret!”

  Josie’s desperate scream sent a chill down her spine. She dropped what she was doing, hurried to the pallet and fell to the floor.

  The girl’s face was marked with terror. “Help me!”

  Panicked, Margaret clinched her hands into fists. “What is it?”

  “The baby’s coming.” Josie didn’t scream this time. Instead, her head lolled to the side when she fainted.

  Margaret pulled back the covers. Blood and water seeped into the pallet material. The time had come. She gave the girl’s cheek a firm patting. “Wake up, Josie. Wake up.” Lifting her limp arm, Margaret slapped the back of her hand, and her eyes opened. “There you are.”

  Josie groaned. “The baby’s coming.”

  “I know, honey.” Margaret glanced around the cabin.

  Pappy must have heard Josie scream. He stood holding onto the doorframe of his bedroom. She made eye contact with him. “I…I’m going to need you to watch after her while I go fetch Michael to help me.”

  Pappy took a hesitant step toward them and froze.

  Josie grabbed Margaret’s hand and pulled her close. “Please don’t leave me,” she begged.

  Margaret panicked. She knew exactly what to do. She’d helped Mama birth nearly a dozen babies back in Texas, but she’d never done it by herself. Her mind reeled. What would Mama do? She lifted Josie’s soaked gown to check the progress.

  She turned her gaze to the frightened old man and shook her head. “There’s no time to get Michael.”

  “Oh?”

  “Pappy, I’m going to need you to listen close because you’re going to have to help me birth this baby.” Margaret watched the color fade from her father-in-law’s face.

  His eyes grew wide, and he pointed at his chest. “Who, me?”

  ~*~

  Margaret heard Thomas stomping off the muck he’d collected during the day.

  Once inside, he removed his boots, placed them beside the door, and then walked straight to the kitchen area. “Margaret?” He called her name glancing around the small cottage. “What…” He gasped as if the words caught in his throat.

  He rushed to where she sat on the floor beside Josie’s pallet. Tears flowed down her cheeks onto the bundle swaddled in her arms. She couldn’t stop them, and she couldn’t speak.

  Thomas crouched on one knee and pulled back the blanket revealing the babe. Tiny pink lips nursed on nothing at all. He smiled at the small wonder. “Why are you crying, lass?”

  Without answering, she nodded toward the baby’s mother.

  Josie rested…still…lifeless. She wasn’t sleeping.

  Pappy ambled up and put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “It was a terrible thing indeed, son.”

  Thomas reached up and covered Pappy’s hand with his own. “What happened?” he asked softly.

  “Ye have a good wife, son.” Pappy sighed. “She done all she could, but the poor girl was barely strong enough to birth the baby.”

  Margaret looked up at her beloved father-in-law. His voice cracked, and he wiped his cheek on his shirtsleeve.

  “She put the babe in Josie’s arms, and the girl kissed its wee head.” Thomas’s dear, sweet father spoke through a flood of tears. “Then the angels came for her. God rest her soul.” Pappy hobbled over to his chair.

  Thomas sat on the floor beside his wife. “I’m so sorry, lass.” He placed his hand on her leg. “May I hold the baby?”

  Margaret placed the child in the crook of his arm. The baby stirred as Thomas pulled back the warm blanket. He turned to her. “It’s a little boy, Margaret.”

  She nodded, smiling through her tears. Thomas turned his attention to the tiny boy in his arms. Tears slid down his whiskery cheeks as he spoke to the baby. “I’m so very sorry yer mam didn’t make it.” He cleared his throat and continued. “But God has blessed you with a new mam and pap who will love you like our own.”

  Margaret placed her hand on Thomas’s arm, and together they gazed at their newborn son. “I’ve never been so happy and so sad at the same time.”

  “I know, lass, but this truly was God’s plan. It’s all clear to me now.”

  “Yes.” Margaret turned to Josie and stroked her white cheek. “But why did it have to be at the cost of his mama?” She rose to her feet.

  Thomas lifted the child and Margaret took him into her arms. “It’s not for us to understand the ways of God. You done what was right abiding by His will.” He stood and followed her.

  She took the babe to Pappy and placed him in his outstretched arms. Pappy gazed at the cherubic face of his new grandchild. “What will ye call him?”

  Margaret and Thomas exchanged a knowing look through glistening eyes. Their baby’s name had been chosen five years before his birth. She touched her chest. Thomas nodded.

  “His name is Jonathan Logan Murphy,” she said.

  Pappy looked up at Margaret and then to his son. His bottom lip quivered, and his tears started anew. “Ye named him after me lost son.”

  The couple had always known their first son would be named Jonathan, paying tribute to Thomas’s brother, who was killed in the Civil War. And his middle name would be Logan, Margaret’s maiden name, to honor her father.

  “Bless ye, both,” Pappy said.

  With everyone crying, it was fitting that baby Jonathan began to cry too. Thomas and Pappy both looked to Margaret. She rubbed her lips together. “He’s hungry, but I’ve nothing to give him.” She looked at her husband. “Perhaps I should have thought about that.”

  “We had no time to think,” Pappy added.

  “What do we do?” Thomas asked Margaret.

  “Well, we’re parents now—we need to act like parents.”

  Thomas gave a weak smile. “Tell me what to do, lass, and I’ll do it.”

  Margaret clapped her hands together. “I’ll go make a sugar teat to keep him quiet while you run to fetch Michael. He can help us make arrangements for Josie’s remains. And while you’re there, ask Hattie for a bottle, some milk, and maybe a diaper or two.” She gazed at Thomas who wasn’t moving. His stress shone on his face. “Are you OK, Thomas?”

  “Oh, uh, sure, lass. It’s a bit much to take in is all.”

  She touched his cheek and smiled. “It’ll be all right. God is in control.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Aye.”

  “Now go to Michael and Hattie’s and pick up what we need. All right…Daddy?”

  Thomas’s lip curled up. “All right…Mama.”

  10

  Christmas Day 1870

  Margaret placed her baby, swaddled in linens borrowed from her sister-in-law, in a carved wooden cradle borrowed from a neighbor two doors down. She kissed his rosy cheek. Everyone was exhausted after a long day of celebrating the Lord’s birth…especially Margaret and all the Murphy children.

  With Hattie bedridden, Margaret had singlehandedly cooked a feast worthy of the entire Murphy clan. With Pappy’s help, she’d strung popcorn and cranberries for the tree with Mikey, Mattie, and Milly. The children played for hours on end w
ith the rocking horse Pappy made. They ate the delicious sweet tropical fruit their father brought home from the hospital commissary until she thought they might all become ill.

  Margaret’s favorite part of the day was sitting by her husband’s side, holding their newborn baby in her arms while Thomas read the Christmas story from the Bible. The children’s faces were alit with joy upon hearing about the birth of Jesus. It was a glorious day indeed.

  She stood over Jonny’s cradle watching him sleep. Never had she known such love for another human being except for Thomas. But this was different. And as hard as it had been watching Josie pass and laying her to rest only three days before Christmas, Margaret wouldn’t lament a thing. God had a plan for her to raise the precious baby boy, and she would remain ever obedient to His will.

  Joining Thomas and Pappy in the living room by the fire, she dropped onto the sofa.

  “Tired, lass?” Pappy asked.

  Margaret chuckled. “More than I can ever remember being.”

  Thomas sat up in his chair. “Don’t forget to open the package from yer mama.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Oh, I forgot all about it.”

  She found the energy to retrieve the Christmas box Mama sent. Too busy after Jonny arrived, she had set it aside without thinking about it again. The sharp kitchen knife sliced open the heavy package with ease. She gasped upon seeing the contents.

  “Would you just look at all this?”

  Thomas and Pappy appeared by her side. She handed them jars of sweet corn, black-eyed peas, stewed tomatoes, applesauce, and pear preserves. They would all enjoy a delicious taste of Texas in the very near future.

  “Oh, Thomas…June and Jeremiah made Christmas decorations for us.” She showed her husband cutouts of her sibling’s hands, painted blue with white ribbon attached.

  “Precious,” Pappy commented and took the ornaments from her hand. “I’ll hang these up for everyone to see.”

  Beneath the canned goods, Margaret found an envelope, her name written in Mama’s script. She removed the letter from the box and took it to the bedroom to read in private. Curling up on her bed, she opened the envelope.