The Spirit Room (47 page)

“
I had a talk with your little sister. She’s goin’ ta be a medium with you, like Isabelle was. I’ve been thinkin’. This spirit circle business always worked best when it was the two of you. That’s been our missing link since Isabelle left. You’ll start teachin’ Rosebud the ways tomorrow, the handwritin’, trances, all of it. We’ll have a new start.”

“
What about Euphora’s job with Mrs. Purcell? That helps with our room and board and she’s been learning everything about running a household.”

“
She’ll do both, won’t you Rosebud?” Papa patted her hand.

Pinching up her mouth, Euphora looked uncertain, even a little afraid, but she nodded. In that moment, Clara felt the brick wall inside her get so high she couldn’t see over it anymore, couldn’t see Papa on the other side. This wasn’t the old sweet inventive Papa come back. This was the plain old rotten skunk Papa she and Euphora always had now. The old Papa might have taken them ice-skating, but just ice-skating and nothing else. Now, always, always, always, a rowboat picnic, a sleigh ride, an afternoon of skating, those were his ways of proposing a scheme that would pile on agony. She glared at him trying to make her eyes say, “You louse. You rat.”

“
Don’t give me that look.”

Clara looked away from him up the canal. She heard him chattering away to Euphora about how talented she would be as a medium and how much fun she’d have with her sister and how much money they would make.

Fat, wet snowflakes began to fall. Did Papa mean for Euphora to be a hoax medium or a whore like he’d made her into? She remembered Reilly’s story about the husband and wife in New York City who made their two daughters into whores. Dinah and Alice were their names.
Dinah and Alice
.

She turned to Papa. “Not with the men, Papa! Not with the men!”

“
Keep your voice down.” He shoved a palm toward her. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“
Not with the men, I said.”

For the first time in a long while, she felt tall, like she was looking down on Papa and he was looking up at her.

“
Shut up or you’ll be in more trouble than you ever dreamed of.”

“
I never dreamed of trouble. You gave me plenty of it. I never had to dream of it.”

“
You be quiet.” His nostrils flared in and out.

She stared down from her imaginary height at him thinking in silence, “You rotten skunk father. You are not going to turn Euphora into a whore. You are not. I will hide her away from you so far you’ll never find her. Never.”

“
Don’t get any ideas about takin’ off like Billy. Don’t go scamperin’ to your sister’s. I’ll run you to the ground. I’ll find you and I’ll bring you back. I’ll run you to the ground, I tell you.”

“
No, I wouldn’t do that, Papa. I understand.” This was one lie she was proud of. She was going to run off all right. She was going to run far away and take Euphora where he would never ever find them.

“
Skate with me, Euphora.” She glided to her little sister, took her clutching hands from Papa’s arm, and drew her toward the other skaters.

Papa followed behind. When she felt that Euphora was staying with her fairly well, she sped up. Tomorrow she’d make a plan with Mrs. Purcell. Tuesday they’d go to the cousin’s. She glanced back toward Marsh Creek and Papa. The falling snow made him appear blurry, even farther away than he really was.

<><><>

LATER THAT NIGHT, Clara found the
Geneva Gazette
in Mrs. Purcell’s parlor and took it with her to the Spirit Room. Every day the newspaper printed the timetable for the N.Y. Central Railroad. She found the notice. Eastbound left at 7:36 A.M.

She moved the furniture and rug, pulled up the secret floorboard, and retrieved her bandbox. Even though she knew exactly how much was there, nine dollars from Sam Weston and fourteen from Reilly, she counted it again and again. Papa was right. The money from Reilly was easier and Papa hadn’t even given her what he had promised from Reilly. She slipped the coins back in among the ribbons, closed the bandbox carefully, and returned it to its hiding place for the last time. The next time she took it out, she wouldn’t hide it away again.

<><><>

ON MONDAY, when Clara and Mrs. Purcell had gone to purchase rail tickets, the station master had told them that the snow and ice was so bad on the Genesee Valley Railroad tracks that there were no trains running and he didn’t know when they’d start again. He told them it would be a better bet to take a steamboat down the lake and get a train for New York City from the south. Trains were still running on the southern lines so they went down to Long Pier and got steamboat tickets for the first sailing on Tuesday morning, on the Watkins.

During the rest of Monday, Clara was jittery, her stomach in an awful twist. She had waited until the last minute to tell Euphora the details of their running away because she and Mrs. Purcell were afraid Euphora might spill the beans without meaning to. During the night as they lay in bed, Clara whispered Mrs. Purcell’s plan to Euphora. They were to go to Mrs. Purcell’s cousin’s home in New York City. The cousin, Mrs. Agnes Hogarth, would take Euphora on as a domestic and she could live there.

There wasn’t enough room or money at the Hogarth’s to take a second girl, so Clara would have to work a factory job and live in a boardinghouse. But there was nothing to worry about. Mrs. Hogarth and Mrs. Purcell had it all arranged. Mrs. Hogarth knew a boardinghouse run by a woman just six blocks away and they had an acquaintance who managed an umbrella factory. Clara was promised a job there. The whole thing was a secret. Only Mrs. Purcell knew where they’d be. Even Izzie wouldn’t know in case Papa pressed her to tell. Later on they would write Izzie and explain it all.

Euphora was even more afraid of Papa than Clara had realized. Euphora actually seemed eager to run away. It turned out that during the many hours Clara was at the Spirit Room, Billy had confided in Euphora, telling her some of his stories about Papa losing his temper, things even Clara never knew. Clara had expected Euphora to fight against going, but it wasn’t the going that upset her sister, it was New York City, how far it was, and how big. For a good long time, Euphora whined and pleaded that they go to Izzie’s. Euphora wanted Izzie taking care of things as she had done in the past. But finally, Clara made her understand Papa would be able to find them there and steal them back.

“
And I don’t want to leave Mrs. Purcell,” Euphora said.

“
I know. I wish we could live with her too, Euphora, but we just have to get away from Papa. Maybe someday, if Papa leaves, we can live here again or go to Izzie’s.”

Clara told Euphora they were to get up at dawn and wear as many of their clothes as they could, like Billy had done. That way they’d be warm and their bags would be light.

When the dawn finally came, they rose and moved quietly about the room, preparing to leave. With all the gifts and clothing that Clara had acquired from Papa and Sam, her possessions had grown and it wasn’t so simple to throw them into a little sack, but Mrs. Purcell had realized this earlier and had given Clara her own carpetbag. To get the valise to close, Clara had to stuff her things down with all her weight. She put on her whalebone hoop, several petticoats, and her green taffeta dress over her green and white striped one. Over that she wore Mamma’s cape and over that, her red shawl. Everything else was in the carpetbag—hairdressings, bracelets, combs, brooches, sewing needles, thimbles, and threads. Euphora had two shawls, two dresses, two chemises, two petticoats, two books, two wooden horses, and one hairbrush. She wanted to take Billy’s checkerboard and checkers.

“
It won’t fit in your satchel, but if you can carry it in your other hand, take it. If we end up walking a long way, you’ll have to get rid of it.”

“
I can carry it.”

“
Shhh. If you wake Papa, we’re dead as two doornails.”

The door latch clicked. Clara flinched. The hall door opened and there was Mrs. Purcell. She was fully dressed and carrying the small glass lamp from her bedchamber. Silently, she nodded at Clara, then vanished.

“
We’re meeting her in her library. Are you ready?”

Euphora darted to the table, stuffed the checkers into her satchel and grabbed the checkerboard, which clunked loudly against the table. Heart flittering, Clara tensed and spun toward Papa’s door. She waited a hushed moment with Euphora. Nothing. Papa hadn’t been out late enough last night to be stewed to his eyebrows. He picked one muttonhead night not to get drunk and fall into a stupor.

“
Go on ahead, I want to make sure we haven’t left anything.” Clara shut her carpetbag with the clasp.

Euphora tiptoed out and Clara went to the chest of drawers. In the top drawer there were several nearly empty tins of Billy’s pomade and a few scattered, dingy hair ribbons. In the second drawer, there was Euphora’s third toy horse, its legs broken off. How and when had that happened? In the bottom drawer there were garments they’d outgrown, a blue plaid dress that had been Izzie’s, then Clara’s, then Euphora’s, and there were numerous pantalettes and a pair of Billy’s out-grown trousers. Clara ruffled through these, but then felt something firm. She lifted Mamma’s Bible out of the mess and held it to her.

Mamma was buried in Geneva and Clara was leaving her here. She might never see her grave again. Raising the Bible to her face, Clara breathed in the musty, worn smell of it. She glanced over at her bag on the bed. Could she cram it in?

She opened the valise, reached in, and found the white and indigo dot summer dress Sam had given her that first time he’d pinned her in the corner of the Spirit Room. She tugged it out and tossed it onto the bed. She wrapped the Bible in the red bandana Billy had given her and slipped it in.

At the door she put the bag down and lingered. She looked around the Blue Room one last time. She looked at the things of the life that was over now, the sky blue walls, Mamma’s rocking chair brought from Ohio, the girls’ big bed and Billy’s skinny one, a handful of story books, the framed print of Broadway, New York City above the mantel. That seemed strange. After staring at that bustling place in the picture for so long, that’s just where she was going.

She glanced at Papa’s door and pictured him on the other side of it sleeping in his bed. “Goodbye, Papa.”

She turned, heart still flittering, and crept slowly downstairs. Nothing ahead of her would be familiar. Nothing except her little sister.

In her blue-and-red paisley wool shawl, silver hair perfectly up and tidy in a topknot, Mrs. Purcell was waiting for her with Euphora in the study. Euphora, with the checkerboard tucked under her arm, held a small woven basket.

“
Do you have everything? Tickets? My cousin’s address?” Mrs. Purcell asked.

“
Yes.”

“
If you get confused, just ask the men working on the steamboat or in the depot. Here’s ten dollars.” She dropped various coins into Clara’s hand. “There’s food in the basket and here’s the letter for my cousin, Agnes.” She pressed it toward Clara. “Give it to her when you arrive. I’m sorry I can’t come with you down to the slip but if anyone saw us they’d know I had something to do with your leaving and it might get back to your father.”

“
Thank you, Mrs. Purcell. We would never be able to do this without you.” Clara wished that her heart would slow down enough to be able to swallow normally.

“
Nonsense. I owe it to your dear mother. My cousin is going to be a little surprised at the rush. She’s expecting another letter from me giving her a date, not you and your sister on her doorstep.”

Suddenly, Euphora dropped the basket and checkerboard to the floor with a thud and threw her arms around Mrs. Purcell’s waist.

“
There, there, darling, I’ll miss you too, more than you can know.” She patted Euphora. Mrs. Purcell looked pale this morning, tired, the skin over her cheekbones sagging.

“
You can’t get into trouble with the sheriff for this, can you?” Euphora looked up at Mrs. Purcell.

“
It’s not the sheriff I’m worried about. It’s your father, but once the worst is over, I don’t expect he’ll be staying around here. He doesn’t much care for me.” She gently nudged Euphora away from her.

“
You two better get to the pier.” Her eyes moist with tears, Mrs. Purcell kissed Euphora, then Clara. Bracing Clara’s shoulders, Mrs. Purcell looked intently into her eyes. “You’ll be all right. Don’t be afraid. My cousin and her husband will watch over you.”

“
I never got a chance to write Izzie about Billy running off. Will you do it for me?”

“
Of course, dear.”

“
But you still won’t tell her where we are until Papa is gone far away,” Clara said.

“
Only when the time is right.”

Izzie not knowing their whereabouts for a while made Clara’s heart kick up harder. She didn’t like that part of the plan, even if Izzie didn’t care about them enough to visit. She and Euphora couldn’t be hidden from Papa if he could force Izzie, or even Doctor MacAdams, to tell where they were. Clara tried again to swallow, but couldn’t get her tongue to shift forward and the saliva to spill down her throat. Things seemed
tarnal
slowed down, thought Clara. She should be rushing away now, but she could barely move. She took her bag in one hand and picked up the basket in the other.