We Hear the Dead (13 page)

Maggie

I missed my younger sister dearly. My confidant, coconspirator, and greatest ally was far away and living a merry life with a gaggle of girls her own age. There were many occasions when I speculated that Leah was well pleased by our separation, for all that she had originally opposed it. Our entire family was under a sort of bondage to Leah, and she ruled over us as expertly as any benevolent despot in history. When she showered us with gifts, it was easy to forget her moments of anger and coercion. However, any person with absolute power over others is a tyrant, even if that person is amiable and pleasant much of the time.

The months passed quickly, and news of our spirit communications spread across the state of New York. Abolitionists, feminists, Quakers, and forward thinkers everywhere had readily accepted the idea of spiritualism. We had made some enemies, it is true: the Bissels and Langworthys of our city still claimed that we were frauds, and the Catholic Church had denounced us as possessed or depraved. But still, we had many admirers and eventually imitators. We learned that other women, girls, and sometimes boys claimed to attract spirits that would rap messages from beyond the grave.

“It is inevitable that anything successful will be copied,” Leah said philosophically. “I am not overly vexed, except that ineptitude by other mediums will give us a bad name. Otherwise, it should not have much impact on us, for we are the original rappers and still greatly in demand.”

Yet the possibility of competition caused Leah to consider action that she had previously shunned: traveling to other cities to demonstrate the spirit rapping. For many months, Leah had refused to consider the numerous invitations we received from persons in other cities and towns. “We are not a traveling carnival,” she would say. But by the time Mr. Greeley arrived from New York, the possibility of being overshadowed by newer and more interesting spirit mediums had begun to gnaw upon her resolution. The prestigious newspaper editor from New York City merely hastened her decision.

I had received a letter from Kate describing her sitting with Mr. Greeley, and so it was a simple matter for me to impress him with an astounding knowledge of his personal life. Mr. Greeley claimed to think very highly of Kate and desperately wanted to remove her to a private school, but he still never guessed she was capable of writing a letter that included all the information I needed to be successful at his sitting in Rochester. What fools were those men of self-importance who did not credit two half-grown girls with any cleverness!

In addition to his desire for Kate's education, Mr. Greeley dearly wanted us to visit New York and demonstrate our supernatural talent. After much debate, Leah finally agreed to his request.

That summer we embarked on a memorable journey across the state of New York. Departing as soon as we could after Kate's return from Auburn, and leaving behind Calvin, who was suffering from a persistent chest ailment, we traveled first to Albany, then to Troy, and finally to New York City itself. At the height of the summer, after traveling by steamboat down the Hudson River, we arrived in Manhattan, where we docked in a flurry of excitement and bustling activity. I fear that we gawked like poor country mice, amazed by the sights and smells of the trade goods and the tradesmen on the wharf, until Leah managed to acquire a hansom cab and wrestle our trunks aboard.

I admit to being seriously spoiled by life in the great city. Our visitors brought gifts, ranging from ribbons and lace to tickets for musical revues and boxes of sweet confections. Leah banned the chocolates in a fit of temper when it became difficult to tighten her corsets. Still, we smuggled in our treats, and once Kate and I made off with an entire bottle of champagne, which we drank after Leah had retired to bed.

During our weeks in New York, we met with newspapermen flushed with pomposity, church leaders endeavoring to reconcile their beliefs, and an array of artists, writers, and performers, all curious and itching to participate in the most fashionable activity in town. There was no end of gentlemen jostling one another to spend an hour or two with Leah, who was described in the newspapers as “a vivacious woman of more than average attractiveness.” Kate and I were not ignored either. Several young men inquired of my older sister whether “pretty Maggie” would soon be of an age to accept the attention of beaux.

In the fall, Mr. Horace Greeley gently reminded us of our promise to send Kate back to school. The Greeley farmhouse was a short day's travel from Manhattan, just on the outskirts of the city, and Mr. Greeley extended an invitation to house all three of us while Kate settled in. We certainly would have accepted, if we had not at that time received a telegram from Rochester.

In it, Amy Post asked us to return to Rochester without delay. Calvin had taken a turn for the worse.

***

Our mother was already established in the Rochester house, having come from Hydesville at Amy's request some days before. “Oh, thank the Lord you have come at last!” Mother cried, opening the door to us. “He's been asking for you and will not be comforted!”

Leah swept up the stairs, with me following closely. We passed Amy in the bedroom doorway, and I barely had time to register her grim, drawn features before I hurried in behind my sister and beheld my foster brother.

Sweat glistened on his pale and clammy skin. Except for a red flush in his cheeks, he was colorless, with gray hollows around his eyes. Hearing us burst into the room, he floundered weakly on the bed, trying to raise his head to see us. “Leah…” His voice was unrecognizable, strained for lack of breath, and he managed no more than a word before a hacking cough shook his entire body. Amy rushed forward with a rag, which he pressed to his lips, and I watched in horror as the cloth grew dark, and then bright red in his hands. The smell of blood rose in the close, stifling air of the room.

I fled, pushing past Mother, and burst into the smaller, second bedroom. Reaching with floundering hands under the bed that I had shared with Kate, I barely managed to grasp the chamber pot before I vomited.

After a time, Amy came in and sat upon the bed, placing her hand upon my hair and smoothing it back away from my face. I was still kneeling on the floor, holding the pot in my lap.

“It is consumption,” she said.

I nodded. I knew it, from description, although I had never before seen anyone bring up blood in that manner.

“He is in a great deal of discomfort,” Amy went on, “although the doctors have tried to ease his pain. He wanted very badly to see you and Leah, and he has stubbornly held on until your arrival.” When I raised tear-filled eyes to her face, she nodded solemnly.

She allowed me the dignity of solitude, so that I could gather control of my emotions and my fear. As soon as I was capable, I wiped my tears and composed my face and returned to the sickroom.

Calvin was agitated by our presence, for he desperately wanted to speak to us but could not control his coughing spasms. Leah, still in her traveling clothes, took his hand and sat down beside him and begged him to save his breath. “We are here, and we are not leaving you,” she assured him. “There will be time to say what you will when you have calmed down and the coughing has stopped.”

Gripping her fingers tightly, Calvin stared plaintively at Leah's face. “There is not time,” he whispered, unable to put any voice behind his breathy words. “I have waited days to speak to you…I didn't want to…leave…you until I had asked you…”

Mother and Amy exchanged significant glances over my head. “Perhaps we should give you a few minutes of privacy,” Mother ventured.

“No.” Calvin put out a pale, shaky hand to stop her. “I want you all to be here…for this.” His frame shook lightly as he fought down a cough with his lips tightly pressed together, but his eyes had not left Leah's face. “Ann Leah,” he said shakily, sounding suddenly very formal for a man so ill. Obviously, he had rehearsed these words. “You and I have known each other for many years, and in that time you have given me a home and your friendship. There is no way I could ever have repaid your kindness…or hoped that you would feel the way I have felt…but now that I am dying…”

“Surely not,” whispered Leah.

“Now that I am dying,” Calvin repeated, “there is something I can give to you, to repay in part all that you have done for me, and that is…my name. It is not a grand one…but I can do better than that wretched Bowman Fish, who gave you nothing but grief. If you marry me now, I can leave you the undisputed title of widow…not a divorced woman anymore but a widow. You'll have the respect you deserve…with no more slander of your character…”

Mother was crying quietly, and I kept trying to brush away the tears that spilled over my cheeks. Leah held Calvin's hands tightly, her lips trembling. Amy put out her arms and herded Mother and me from the room, murmuring, “Let us give them some time to talk alone.”

The next day, a Methodist minister came to the house and, presiding over the deathbed, joined Leah and Calvin in marriage. Upon the conclusion of the vows, Leah sat promptly down again in her seat by his bed, to nurse him through as many hours as he could last.

Two days later, Calvin rallied.

In a week's time, the doctors proclaimed him likely to recover, and the household rejoiced. Calvin, thin and shaken but less pale, wore a foolish grin, and Mrs. Ann Leah Fox Fish Brown looked as surprised and befuddled as I had ever seen her. Every time someone spoke to Mrs. Brown, Leah turned around in puzzlement looking for such a person, and I burst into uncontrollable giggles.

For the first time in more than eighteen years, my sister had a real, live husband on her hands.

Maggie

I wondered at first if Calvin's marriage to Leah would make a significant difference in the running of our household, but it was naïve to think that my sister would give over control of the purse strings simply because she was now legally wed. Leah was far too set in her ways. Even if Calvin had wanted to master his wife and assume his place as provider of the family, he was not capable. In spite of his unexpected return from the brink of the grave, we all knew that it was not so much a reprieve as a postponement. Consumption was a chronic disease, known for its lengthy periods of dormancy followed by sudden crisis. For months after his illness, Calvin was as weak as a kitten.

Thus, our family business of spiritual stewardship remained the only means of income for us. Our circuit across the state had brought in a fair amount of money, but our traveling expenses had not been inconsequential either. Once it was certain that Calvin was not in immediate danger, it became necessary for us to resume the spirit circles that provided the means for our subsistence.

When Kate came home for Christmas, we discovered that she had not been neglecting her talent for mischief while away at school. During the hours in which she no doubt should have been studying, she had invented a new spirit trick, which she called ghost writing. In the midst of a spirit circle, Kate would moan and roll her eyes back convincingly, apparently descending into a trance. Her left hand would begin to move in broad, looping gestures. If given a pen and directed to a sheet of paper, Kate's hand would begin to write, seemingly without her volition, in a wide, scrawling backward script. When reflected in a mirror, the writing revealed some communication intended for a person in the room. No matter what was written, be it
I forgive you
or
Trust that your present occupation will serve you well
, someone in the room would claim the message for their own. Hardly anyone who departed from a spirit circle in which Kate participated doubted the validity of what he or she had seen.

***

In January, Leah pressed for Kate to return to the Greeley house and attend the next school term. Not only was it important to retain Mr. Greeley's support, but Kate's image of innocence was enhanced by her scrupulous attention to her studies. Kate did not depart without tears, but as usual, she eventually submitted to Leah's will.

The months flew by. Life in Rochester, while not as quickly paced as that in New York City, offered more than enough amusement to keep me busy. I was enjoying the company of a large and varied group of persons, ranging from abolitionist and feminist reformers to newspapermen and mesmerists. I received letters from people I had never met. No less than four letters offered betrothal, solely on the basis of my description. “Hmmph!” snorted Leah, reading these proposals with amusement. “No doubt these gentlemen, if they even deserve such a term, are more interested in the shape of your purse than your figure!”

***

In the summer and fall of 1850, two terrible events shook our nation. The first was the unexpected death of President Zachary Taylor from a sudden attack of cholera, and the second was the passing of the Fugitive Slave Act by Congress. This great blow to the antislavery movement made it a federal crime to harbor fugitive slaves. The new president, Millard Fillmore, signed the bill, officially turning the Posts into criminals. Our spirit table shook with anger, and Kate, finally returned from her lengthy term at school, transcribed pages of spiritual invective in her eerie, backward script. On one occasion, the spirits wrote, through Kate's hand:
Poor President Taylor—he has left his country with a man who will lead the nation into war.

Our spirit circle was taken aback by that message, and Leah chastised Kate privately for it. “There is no need to be so grim! Our clients don't like it!”

Kate made no excuses but gazed at Leah with that fathomless expression she used when trying to convey that her spirit messages were real. Leah only snorted in disdain and waved her away impatiently. There was no more talk of war after that, but the shade of the idea had already been raised and could not be banished.

In the late fall, I received a letter from a family we had met in Troy the previous year, inviting me to come and reside for a time in their home and hold spirit circles for the believers who lived in that town. I remembered the Boutons fondly, especially Mr. Bouton's sister Annabel, who was my age. This girl had struck up an acquaintance with me at the time of our visit, and we had continued to exchange letters over the months. Leah was inclined to allow me to go, now that she had Kate back, but my younger sister surprised me with her jealousy and anger.

“I've only just returned!” she cried. “Is my companionship so unsatisfactory that you have to leave Rochester for better company?”

I was shocked and hurt by her words. “Kate! You have been away for months making friends at school, but I have been working all that time, holding the spirit circles and doing Leah's bidding! Don't I deserve an opportunity to travel and meet new people as you have been doing?”

To my consternation, Kate folded up like a rag doll and collapsed weeping upon our bed. “None of those girls was a sister to me! I could never truly be myself! I counted the days until I could return to Rochester, and now you are going away!”

Slowly, I sat down beside her and put my arms around her. I knew my sister well, and while she spoke the truth, she was also trying to bend me to her will. I was approaching seventeen years of age, on the verge of womanhood, and Kate was still a child. Although she was my beloved sister, I was stubbornly determined to seek out a measure of independence.

I had not told Kate, nor did I plan to tell Leah, but Annabel Bouton had written to me that she had an “understanding” with a young banker named John. Her brother would not consider allowing a formal betrothal at her age, but all tacitly agreed that Annabel and John could be engaged when she reached eighteen and married shortly thereafter.

“I would love for you to come and stay with us for a few weeks,” Annabel wrote. “I am so happy and I want to share my newfound elation. John has a brother who saw you at a spiritual lecture last summer, and he would dearly like to make your acquaintance. If you were to come to Troy, Maggie, it would be my greatest delight to make the introduction!”

Perhaps it was foolish, but I felt great satisfaction at keeping Annabel's secret engagement from Leah, and the idea that I could meet an admirer during my visit had tantalized me with daydreams of romance. I regretted Kate's unhappiness, but it was not going to prevent me from having my little rebellion.

“Three weeks,” I said into Kate's hair, hugging her closely. “I'll be back in Rochester in less than a month.” In my heart, though, I knew that once I was out of Leah's clutches, I would stay in Troy as long as I pleased.

“I just wish you wouldn't go at all,” Kate whispered. “I can't explain it. I just don't want you to go.”