Seamus

                                    by aggie1986

In fading firelight, Ned Logan broke up the last logs in the fireplace with a few quick jabs. Satisfied the coals would smolder safely through the night; he leaned the poker against the hearth and swept his hair from his eyes before turning to ascend the stairs. He gripped the banister and pulled himself wearily from step to step, his aching body protesting a hard day’s work. At the top of the stairs he began for his bedroom, then turned to steal a peek into Lexy’s room.

His youngest daughter was still awake, lying in bed with a hand mirror. She was studying her face intently and he paused to drink in her image. Her red hair, usually pulled back off her face, spilled around her in fiery tendrils. She was dressed in white bedclothes and had the blanket pulled closely around her. His eyes softened and a gentle smile spread across his lips at the sight of her. His baby. He touched two fingers to his lips in a silent goodnight and tried to retreat quietly.

"Pa?" her young voice asked.

Ned turned back to her room and leaned against the doorframe. "What are you still doing up, Lexy?" he asked softly. He blinked slowly and smiled at her before walking over to the bed. "You should be sleeping, sweet pea. It’s late."

"Pa, who do I look like?" she asked.

Ned frowned slightly and sat on the bed next to her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, " Lexy said, glancing again at her reflection before turning her brown eyes back to him. "Who do I look like? Aunt Regine said Alice looks exactly like Ma. Clay and Sean look alike and all of them are dark-haired, like Ma. You don’t have red hair and I look nothing like you."

"Count your blessings," Ned said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes and didn’t miss a beat. "I have to look like somebody. I’m not adopted or anything, am I?"

Ned patted her leg and laughed. "You know very well you’re not adopted, Lexy. You are your mother’s daughter. You know that. What ever put that notion into your head?"

Lexy shrugged and put the mirror down. "Jeremy was saying how everyone has dark hair but me. And it got me to thinking, is all. I was just wondering why I don’t look like the others. Or you. I mean, where did I get my red hair?"

Ned’s jaw clinched, but he smiled. "Jeremy could stir up trouble while he was sleeping, I do believe." He looked at Lexy again. "Sweet pea, you come from Irish stock. There’s not an Irish lass around that doesn’t have red hair and freckles somewhere in her blood!"

She giggled. "I know, Pa, but I was wanting to know who in the family I looked like. Is there anybody I look like?"

Ned stared at her a long time before answering. He exhaled deeply and smiled faintly at her. "Well, Lexy, yes, the day you were born you reminded me of someone in my family. Someone with red hair like yours and even more freckles," he said, reaching over and tweaking her freckled nose.

She giggled again. "Really, who?"

Ned paused again and the faint smile grew even fainter. "Your Uncle Seamus," he said.

"Who’s that?" she asked. I’ve never heard of Uncle Seamus."

"He was my baby brother," Ned told her. "And he had curly red hair that was never combed. It was a constant rat’s nest," he said, smiling at the memory.

 "Whatever happened to him? Why don’t you ever talk about him Pa?" she asked, firing questions at him in youthful curiosity.

 "It was a long time ago, Lexy. He died before you were born," he answered.

 "What happened? Was he your only brother? I’ve never heard you talk about brothers and sisters."

 "Yes, he was my only brother. Four years younger than me," Ned replied.

 "Well, what happened to him? Lexy asked again, sitting upright in bed.

 "Lexy, it’s late and there will be other, more appropriate times to tell you about your Uncle Seamus," Ned told her, starting to rise.

 Lexy grabbed his hand. "Please, Pa. Tell me about Uncle Seamus. Please."

 Ned swallowed and eased bank into the softness of the bed, never able to resist his youngest child. He wetted his lips and looked at her tenderly. "Why do you suddenly want to know all this?"

 She shrugged again. "You’ve never told me anything. The others, they remember Ma and Aunt Regine and they’ve heard stories about the family and about our past and I’ve never heard any. Or if I have, it was when I was little and I don’t remember," she said. "Can’t you just tell me a little about Uncle Seamus? Please?"

 Ned sighed in resignation. "Alright, alright." He paused and grinned at her. "Your Uncle Seamus was a mess. He could make you laugh with just a look. You’d never know a more mischievous boy than Seamus," Ned said, shaking his head. "Practical jokes were his specialty. And his laugh! It was loud and contagious. When Seamus laughed, you couldn’t help but laugh along, even when you were madder than anything at him. But I was hardly ever mad at him. We got on real well. Played a lot together. The Logan Boys," Ned shook his head with a smile. "Always teaming up with each other and challenging anybody we could get to take the bait. We could whip anybody in racing, wrestling, boxing. You name it. But, Lexy, his smile. He was just something. One smile and he had you. And he had this giggle," Ned’s voice trailed off and the smile that had crept across his face disappeared. It flickered again faintly. "We called him Giggle-Box."

 "Giggle-Box?" Lexy laughed. "Giggle-Box." She repeated. "He sounds funny. "What happened to him, Pa?"

 "Lexy," Ned said, shaking his head. "It’s late."

 "Pa," she whined softly. He stared into her brown eyes and sighed again.

 "The war is what happened," he said. "He was killed in the war."

 "The same war you fought in, Pa? The war between the states?"

 Ned nodded and stared absently at the wall, feeling the cold rain on his face, hearing the slosh of his boots in knee-high mud, smelling the decay all around him. He closed his eyes and opened them again to look into the innocent eyes of his daughter. "Yes, the same war, Lexy."

 "How did he die, Pa?"

 "Lexy, you’re really too young to be hearing stories of the war. It’ll give you nightmares, sweet pea."

 "I’m not a baby, Pa."

 "Lexy, I know you’re not a baby. But it gives even me nightmares, sweetheart." Ned confessed softly.

 "Oh," Lexy said, staring at her father with eyes that held understanding beyond her eleven years. "It was awful, wasn’t it, Pa?"

 Ned pursed his lips and nodded.

 "Did you have to kill people, Pa?" she asked.

 Ned looked at her sweet face. "Yes, Lexy. I killed men while I was in the war. I had to."

 "And you were hurt. You were shot and taken prisoner." Lexy said.

 Ned nodded, resisting the urge to touch the scar on his shoulder. "Yes," he whispered.

 "Were you with Uncle Seamus when he died?" she asked.

 Ned looked down at the sheets and smoothed them with his rough palm. "No, baby, I wasn’t with him. Isaac and I were hundreds of miles away. Your Uncle Seamus died in the Battle of Jonesboro. Georgia. It was August of 1864, just days, really, before the fall of Atlanta. He was severely injured and they had to…" Ned stopped and looked at Lexy. "Lexy, really, this is not an appropriate story for bed time. At any time, really. I don’t want to give you nightmares."

 "What happened, Pa? Was he shot?"

 "I’m not sure, Lexy. We were simply told he lost his arm in that battle. And he later died of some infection that set in. That’s all we know."

 "His arm was cut off?" Lexy asked in horror.

 Ned loosened the collar at his neck and nodded. "Now, can we talk of something more pleasant? Something nice to give you sweet dreams?"

 "Where is he buried, Pa? Why isn’t he buried here in the family cemetery?"

 Ned shrugged. "Don’t rightly know where Seamus is buried, Lexy. We never found out. Somewhere in Georgia, I expect. The opposing sides weren’t always forthcoming about casualties and prisoners." Ned rubbed his face in exhaustion. "Lexy, honey, this is enough. Really. It’s not anything little girls need to be hearing."

 "But he was my uncle and I look like him," she said. "I can handle hearing bad things, Pa. Really. I’m a lot more mature than you think."

 This brought a smile to Ned’s lips. "I’m sure you’re right, Lexy. I’m sure you’re right."

 "I might even have a boy I like," Lexy said, challenging him with a sly smile.

 "A boy?" Ned asked, arching one brow and grinning. He leaned in close to his daughter’s face and touched her nose with his. He pulled away and smiled at her. "This I haven’t heard."

 Lexy giggled. "It’s nothing serious."

 "Well, that I’m glad to hear," Ned said, shaking his head. "You’ll warn me of any upcoming nuptials, won’t you? I’ve got a handsome tuxedo from Sean’s engagement party…"

 Lexy giggled. "Pa, you’re being silly."

 "I’m going to have to start calling you "Giggle-Box," he told her with a smile.

 "Well, I do look like Uncle Seamus, after all," Lexy replied.

 "Yes, that you do," Ned told her, rising to his feet to gaze down at her. "Now, please, try to have pleasant dreams." He took the mirror from the bed and placed it on her nightstand. Lexy burrowed beneath the covers as Ned walked to the hall.

 "Pa?" she asked as he reached the door.

 Ned turned and smiled. "What, Lexy?"

 "Do you have a picture of Uncle Seamus I could see?" she asked.

 Ned paused before answering. "I think I can round up a picture of Seamus with his bright red hair and freckles. Yes, Lexy, I think I can." Her face lit up. "Good night, Pa."

 "Goodnight," he whispered. "Giggle-Box."

 Her laughter followed him down the hall and it beckoned a sweet memory that cloaked him as he closed his bedroom door behind him. He sighed and stretched his neck. Unbuttoning his shirt as he crossed the room, he went to his clothes dresser and pulled out a drawer. He retrieved a handful of photographs and gently separated the frail pictures from each other like a poker player surveying his hand. A picture of himself fell into view, taken shortly after mustering into the Union army. He paused long enough to pay a solemn tribute to the memory of that man he had once been. A young man filled with patriotism. A man that could never know the horror that awaited him.

Finally, a photograph of a young soldier stopped him and Ned pulled the photo from the rest. Feeling for the bed behind him, he sat down. His finger trailed over the picture and he stared at Seamus, no older than 18 when the picture was taken. Stern and in uniform, his rifle by his side, he stared into the camera. Even the solemn expression could not hide the twinkle in his eyes, the dimple in his cheek, the untamable mop of hair beneath his cap.

Ned smiled at his baby brother. He missed him. Missed his laugh, his voice. Memories of their childhood flooded Ned’s heart and he leaned into the images, trying to recall their details. The laughter, the smells. He and Seamus swinging from the mighty branches of the oak tree in their front yard. His father’s callused hands gripping his shoulders reassuringly. His mother standing next to him in church singing hymns. She had a beautiful, strong voice. Fleetingly, the memories vanished and dulled. Try as he might, he could not will the sharp images back. Ned opened his eyes only to realize they were damp. He looked around and sighed. Sweeping his hair from his eyes, he looked back at Seamus. In their youth, they had always been on the same team. Ned stared at the Confederate uniform his brother had so proudly worn.

But in the end, they had only ended up fighting each other.

                            FINIS

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