When The Spirit Moves You

by Thomas DePrima

  At four o'clock, as Amelia and her mother prepared to leave, Mrs. Fuller had James notify their coachman, Thomas, who was waiting patiently in the Fuller kitchen, that they were ready to go home. As he helped them into the coach, Amelia thanked him by name, earning a nod and a smile.

  When they arrived home, Amelia saw that her memories were accurate, and that her new family was just as affluent as Martha's. The fourteen room brick house was nothing like the Westfield mansion, but it was definitely an upper class home in a very nice neighborhood. She marveled again at their good fortune. If you had to be yanked from your body, taken away from your family, and transported through time to another century, a person couldn't possibly have wished for a better lifestyle then the ones that they had been thrust into. But it had been a trying afternoon, and Amelia wanted some time alone, so when they entered the house she complained of a slight headache. Her mother helped her to her bedroom so that she could lie down for a while.

  Before leaving, her mother hugged her again and said, "Until I saw you at the Fuller's with my own eyes, my mind had not released all of my fears over your safety. I'm so happy that you're home. Now get some rest dear. I'll send Michelle to call you when dinner is ready."

  "Thank you, Mother."

  "Mother? Not Mummy? Is my little girl getting so grown up?"

  Amelia smiled and said, "Thank you, Mummy."

  "Are you alright dear? You seem distant."

  "It's just the headache, I guess. And I am tired from all of the traveling of the past few days."

  "Of course, dear; I'm just being silly. Get some rest."

  Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she was gone. She used the time alone to look through the dresser, and everything else in the room. As with the other girls, contact with people and objects familiar to their spirit hosts immediately sparked buried memories and she felt fairly confident that she would be able to pull off the masquerade. Once comfortable in the room, she laid down to rest.

  Awakened a short time later by a middle-aged woman wearing what Amelia had learned was something of a standard for maid's uniforms in the era, Amelia was informed that dinner would be ready very soon, and that her father was home from work.

  "Thank you, Michelle. I'll be down directly."

  Rising from the bed, Amelia used her private bathroom to pull herself together. When she was fully awake, she put on her biggest smile and walked downstairs. A handsome man of about forty-five, slim, with brown hair beginning to grey a little at the temples, smiled through a thick moustache as she entered the parlor. Amelia realized immediately where her hair color had come from. The man, dressed in a conservative business suit of the period, rose and held out his arms for her as she hurried to embrace him with a warm smile on her face.

  "How's my little girl?" he asked. "I missed you, honey."

  "And I've missed you, Daddy," Amelia said as she hugged him. "It's so good to be home again. I had a wonderful time at Anne's during the past four weeks, but it's so nice to come home."

  Kissing her on the cheek, he said, "It's been quiet around here since you left, without the parade of young gentlemen that usually follows you around. I suppose that I'll have to get used to reading my newspaper in the study again so you can use the parlor every evening to entertain your admirers. So tell me all about your visit with the Westfields."

  Amelia took a seat on the sofa as Mr. Turner returned to his favorite chair. Over the next ten minutes she gave him a summary of her visit, omitting reference to the 'accident,' the kiss by Jeremy, and the situation with Mad Margaret.

  "It sounds like you enjoyed your visit very much."

  "I did, Daddy. Their home is so beautiful, and Anne is such a wonderful hostess."

  When her mother appeared at the entrance of the parlor to say that dinner was ready, they all walked together to the dining room. Her father held her chair for her, and then held her mother's. Amelia felt good that she had reached this point without setting off any real alarm bells, but she knew she would have to stay on her toes to avoid making too many mistakes. These were the two people who had known Amelia's personality best. She strained to hear every bit of information that passed between her parents at the dinner table that night, and commit it to memory.

  Martha arrived early the next morning for a visit, and after talking briefly with Mrs. Turner, the two young women went to Amelia's room on the pretext of looking at her wardrobe to see if she had a dress that Martha could borrow for a special, upcoming event. They were almost the same size in this existence, Amelia being less than an inch shorter.

  "Oh Amelia," Martha said with exasperation, once they were in the bedroom and the door was closed, "I thought that last night would never end. I was constantly on my guard to avoid making a mistake and saying something that Martha would never have uttered. By the time I went to bed, I was thoroughly exhausted. It was better today though. I hope that Roberta and Elizabeth are doing okay."

  "I'm sure that they are. We all knew that it was going to be difficult for the first few days. Each day will get a little easier, dear. You'll see. In a couple of weeks, it'll all be second nature, with just an occasional catastrophe."

  Martha laughed at Amelia's last remark, and that started Amelia giggling.

  The girls had all agreed to correspond with one another several times a week, also agreeing to burn their letters in the kitchen stoves as soon as they had read them, so that they could not be read by anybody else. Martha and Amelia were from single child houses, so they would have fewer potential problems from snooping than Roberta, who had both a younger sister and brother, and Elizabeth, who had a younger brother. Martha did have an older sister, but she was married and no longer lived at home. Amelia was an only child.

  * * *

  The contrast between the lives of the entrepreneurial aristocracy of the late nineteenth century and that of the 'common people' was amazing. The girls had caught glimpses of life outside the walls of the mansion during their travels to their new homes, but their preoccupation with the challenges ahead had narrowed their attention. Rather than remaining in the house most of the time during these shortened winter days, Amelia and Martha filled their days with shopping, visiting, or just observing life in a small city that was destined to become a bustling urban center one day.

  Amelia and Martha particularly enjoyed visiting City Park and watching the children romp and frolic in the snow. The lovely park in the heart of the city, with its forty-one gently contoured acres, mainly owed its existence to the efforts of Reverend Horace Bushnell. He had worked tirelessly to have the city purchase the land and develop the park that would one day bear his name. The weather remained cold, and although the streets were generally clear of snow, several feet of frozen white crystals still covered the park grounds.

  The winds that characterize March in the Northeast will soon begin to blow, and within a matter of weeks the weather will begin to warm considerably. The snow will disappear, slowly at first, and then much more rapidly as wind and rain eat away at the frosty white covering, and turn icy roads into dirty brown quagmires. Carriage and wagon wheels will create deep ruts in streets, and horses' hoofs will fling mud and dirt in every conceivable direction until the streets at last dry out with the approach of summer.

  As Amelia predicted, the girls became more comfortable in their roles with each passing day. She always wondered how much was their ability to adapt, and how much was a result of the memories they had inherited with their body, along with reinforcement by the spirits of the dead girls. Martha surprised Amelia by how quickly, and how well, she assumed her familial role once they had arrived in Hartford. She acted as if she had known no other life, and Amelia believed that she was genuinely happy.

  Several weeks after arriving in Hartford, as Amelia and her mother prepared to attend a tea at the house of a neighborhood woman prominent in local society, her mother said, "I understand now."

  Looking at her with concealed surprise, Amelia asked, "Understand what, Mummy?
"

  "Why you've seemed so very different since you arrived back from the Westfield's."

  "What do you mean, different?"

  "Your entire personality seems to have changed. You're quieter and more pensive. You seem to be an entirely different Amelia than the one that left here less than two months ago."

  "Really?" Amelia's mind was racing furiously as she tried to calculate where the conversation was headed.

  "Yes, really," her mother said gently. "You're in love. Michelle has mentioned that you receive one or more letters from Jeremy Westfield every day."

  Amelia tried not to let her relief show as she thought how best to respond.

  "Tell me about your young man," her mother said. "Is he handsome?"

  Amelia smiled, confident that her real secret was still safe. "Very. He's tall, with blond hair the color of— ," Amelia quickly searched her mind for references that would be acceptable in this period, "wheat fields in summer, and eyes the color of a brilliant blue sky on a cloudless winter afternoon."

  "Has he missed a day since he's been writing?"

  "No, never. At midweek I get two letters because there's no mail on Sunday."

  "Then it appears that he's in love with you as well," she said thoughtfully.

  "It appears that way…"

  "But you don't believe it?"

  "His sister Anne believes that he is, but— I don't know."

  "What makes you question his affections?"

  "Well— he'll soon graduate from college. He's young, extremely handsome, a good conversationalist, and comes from a very wealthy family."

  "Oh, I see. And you can't believe that he could possibly be interested in just one woman right now? You think that he'll want to meet lots of eligible young women before he settles down?"

  "Something like that, Mummy."

  "How do you feel about him?"

  Amelia sighed. "When I'm near him, I feel complete, and when I'm not near him, I feel all empty inside and can't wait to see him again."

  Amelia's mother also sighed, slightly. "I understand, dear. When your father was courting me, I couldn't believe that he could feel about me the way that I felt towards him. I did my best not to show him how much I cared because it's not good to let a man know that too early. They should only know that you're interested and that proper overtures won't be spurned." Her mother paused for a few seconds. "Love is a peculiar emotion. Men who fall completely in love usually feel that, because they love so deeply, with so much of their heart, that the object of their affection can't possibly not be similarly smitten. Women, other than inexperienced schoolgirls, are usually more pragmatic. Not always, of course, but usually. Oh, we offer our hearts just as totally as men, usually more so, but we start looking for reasons to justify love when we feel the first stirrings of our emotions. We must believe that the man is worthy of our affection before we commit ourselves."

  "Then, are you saying that Jeremy Westfield is sincere?"

  "He probably believes that he is, but it's for you to decide the depth of that sincerity. If you really care about this boy, don't rebuff his overtures simply because you believe that a college senior couldn't be totally sincere. Because of his family's social position, it's likely that he has already met dozens, or even hundreds of other girls. Perhaps he's decided that you're the special woman for whom he's been searching. For him, you may be the end of his search, not the beginning."

  Amelia stood there, not really knowing what to do except to smile and say, "Thank you, Mummy."

  "So when am I going to meet this wonderful young man?"

  "He wants to come for a visit in two weeks. He proposes to take a room in a local hotel for the weekend and spend two days with me— us, if that's acceptable to you and Daddy."

  "As long as you're properly chaperoned at all times, it's perfectly acceptable."

  "Tad Stevens wants to come up also. He's the boy that Martha likes."

  "I can't speak for Martha's parents, but I doubt they will have any objections if the boy is of good family and character. Martha should broach the subject with her mother as soon as possible."

  "She will. We had both intended to bring it up tonight during supper."

  "If I know Louisa, she has already noticed Martha's preoccupation with her suitor and is just waiting for the subject to be introduced." Hearing the chime of the large clock in the downstairs parlor, she added, "We can talk about this more in the carriage, dear. We should leave or we'll be late for Mrs. Baxter's tea."

  * * *

  Jeremy and Tad arrived in Hartford two weeks later for their first nervous meetings with the parents of the girls. Amelia had prearranged with Jeremy to come to the house at ten a.m. on Saturday, and Michelle was waiting to answer the door when he knocked. Amelia's father wanted an opportunity to speak with him first, alone, so Michelle escorted Jeremy to the study after taking his hat and coat. Amelia stood in the parlor, hidden from view, but from where she could catch a glimpse of Jeremy through the narrow opening gap between parlor door and door frame as he entered the study. Amelia then spent an anxious hour trying to read a book, but unable to concentrate as she strained to hear any sounds that might emanate from her father's sanctum.

  When the doors finally opened and the men emerged, they were chatting and laughing. Amelia smiled, knowing that they had hit it off together right away. Her anxiety evaporated immediately, and she breathed as deeply as her corset allowed. Amelia and her mother were sitting on the sofa when the two men entered the room and her father made the introductions.

  "My dear," Amelia's father said to his wife. "I'd like to introduce Mr. Jeremy Westfield, the young man that Amelia told us about. Mr. Westfield, this is my wife."

  "It is my great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Turner. I can see now where Amelia's beauty comes from."

  Amelia would have sworn that her mother almost blushed.

  "Welcome to our home, Mr. Westfield. Amelia has told us much about you and we've been looking forward to meeting you. Thank you for the kindness that your family extended to Amelia and the other girls during their recent visit to your home."

  "We were honored to have them join us for the celebration. The snowstorm caused some anxious moments, but we were delighted that all the girls recovered so quickly."

  "Recovered?" her mother echoed. "Recovered from what?"

  Jeremy hadn't realized until that second that Amelia had kept the severity of the incident from her parents, but one glance at her anxious eyes told him what he needed to know.

  "Why, from having to travel in that miserable weather, of course. They were absolutely chilled to the bone when they finally arrived at the house. Fortunately, Dr. Rogers was among the guests and after a quick examination he ordered them all to bed. They were quite fine the next morning, after a good night's sleep in a warm bed."

  "Oh," Mrs. Turner said. "Amelia didn't mention that the trip had been that difficult."

  "I didn't want to worry you, Mummy. We were just fine after we warmed up, and I knew how upset you were after I heard you tell Mrs. Fuller about your premonition."

  "I'm glad that it wasn't any more serious," Amelia's mother said, looking at Amelia strangely. Then turning back to Jeremy, she said, "I understand that you're graduating from Yale this summer, Mr. Westfield?"

  By the time lunch was announced, Amelia could tell that her mother approved of Jeremy also. He spent the afternoon with the family and stayed for supper. At Mrs. Turner's prompting, he spent most of the time telling them about his family and the family businesses.

  They learned that Jeremy's grandfather, originally a whaler by trade, had started the family on the road to prosperity by purchasing the salvage rights to a wooden sailing ship that had run aground on Cape Cod during a sudden storm while making a trip from Europe. The owners decided not to repair her because of her small size, age, and the fact that she didn't have auxiliary steam power. That ship formed the core of the newest, albeit the poorest, shipping company in New England, after being repaire
d and refloated.

  With wonderful luck, successful financing arrangements, and much hard work, his grandfather built the company up to six wooden sailing ships by the time the California gold rush started. His original ship sank during a violent storm, as it rounded Cape Horn while en route to California in 1850, and was replaced by his first steam-power assisted ship later that year.

  By the time the gold fever had finally subsided somewhat on the west coast, Jeremy's grandfather owned eight more steam-assisted ships, and was servicing ports in the Americas on both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. When Jeremy's father took over the company, he expanded the shipping routes to make it a global company, moving the main office to Boston, and they now owned twenty-seven ships of varying sizes. Most were smaller cargo vessels, servicing the east and west coasts of the Americas, but several were very large ships transporting both cargo and passengers between Europe and America. Jeremy's father was also heavily invested in the thriving textile industry around New Bedford. Jeremy would join the shipping firm upon graduation and eventually assume control of all the company holdings when his father retired.

  After staying with the Turner family for a few hours after supper, Jeremy returned to his hotel for the evening. On Sunday morning he attended services at the Christ Church at 45 Church Street with the family, and then returned to the house to have lunch with the family. He stayed until two o'clock, when he had to leave to catch his train back to New Haven. Amelia was sad to see him go but knew that he had to be in class the next day. Before leaving he told her that he'd make every effort to visit again in a couple of weeks.

  While shopping the next day, Amelia and Martha had a chance to talk privately about the visits.

  "Amelia, it was wonderful. Mother and Daddy really like Tad. Daddy says that he seems like a very nice boy with excellent prospects."