Combustion (Book 1: The Spark)

CHAPTER 7 - What Now?

***A/N: To everyone and anyone reading the first book in the Combustion trilogy: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, and I'm so excited to share this story with you all. I'm dedicating this chapter to my great friend IRL, IgnisSolis! She's the one that introduced me to the world of WattPad and everything it has to offer. Thank you!

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There they were: back at the old house once more. This time, night had fallen and the air had grown thick with coal dust. Clem and Paul stared once more at the unconscious Amelia.

"We are going to call the Municipal Inspector and have her committed back to the hospital for hysterics. This girl is not normal!" she explained to her husband.

"Clem, there is something deep inside of me that says we must help her. I, too, thought she was having a fit at the river's edge, but I think there is something greater going on amongst us," he related to Clem.

"Paul, your feelings have never been wrong before, but I don't want us dragged into something we should not be involved in. This girl has been almost nothing but trouble since she stumbled into our stable," she insisted.

"Hornswoggle!" Paul declared loudly. "Who are we to turn away this young girl in her time of need? Just like when we found her in our stable, this is no different."

Clem was taken aback by her husband's fervent tone. "I'll not be taken for a stupe by this girl, you hear?" she retorted back. "Alas, if you feel so inclined to help her, I will not let you do this alone."

Paul smiled at Clem once more. "Now, Clem. I'm sorry I had to be so stern about this." 

Clem looked deep into his eyes and said, "It's the right thing to do." With that, Clem blew out the flame in the kerosene lamp and let the night take over the home.

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Amelia, once again, awoke to the sight of Clem and Paul. This time there was no crying. This time, she had come to terms with the fact that she was the brunt of the universe's weirdest joke: she'd traveled back in time almost 200 years. The thought alone made her head spin. However, the bigger task ahead was explaining this to Clem and Paul without having them commit her to an asylum.

"Good morning, Amelia," Clem said sweetly. "When you are able to do so, please join us for some sustenance in the next room. I believe we have much to discuss."

Amelia was taken aback by Clem's change in demeanor with her. She was usually proclaiming to the high heavens that Amelia was suffering from hysterics or threatening to call the Municipal Inspector. She thought to herself that this was a good start to opening up a dialogue that would, indeed, peg Amelia to be completely insane.

She sat down at the wooden table besides Paul and across from Clem. She didn't even know where to start. The three of them sat silently for what seemed like hours. The silence was shattered by a violent fit of coughing from Clem. Paul leaned over his wife and handed her a cup of warm goat's milk to calm the coughing.

Paul turned to Amelia with sadness in his eyes. "I told you we are very lucky to have lived as long as we have, but it has gotten far worse since all of these factories started coming about. Clem cannot even keep the clothes she launders clean while they hang to dry," he commented.

She could see the concern in both their eyes. She knew she had to figure out how to get back to her time as soon as she could, but she also knew she had to help Clem and Paul. They'd basically saved her life: twice. She thought about the strong bond she felt for the older couple and was surprised that it formed so quickly. She decided, right then and there, to, once again, make lemonade out of lemons. Of course, she would have to make barrels and barrels of lemonade, since this was the biggest haul of lemons life had ever dealt a single person.

Amelia got up and placed her hand on Clem's shoulder. "I don't know how, but I want to help you both. I don't know when, or how, I'll be able to go home, but your extreme kindness will not go unpaid by me," she declared to them.

Clem and Paul looked back at Amelia. The look in their eyes, a bit misty but full of hope and gratitude, said more than a symphony of words could ever say. The three of them had formed a bond like none that Amelia had ever felt in her life. Although she was centuries away from her life, a part of her felt like she was already home.

"That's enough doting on me," said Clem, breaking the silence. "Paul has to go down to the shop and I've got to begin scrubbing my loads."

Amelia looked at Clem and said, "Please let me help you. If I'm going to be sticking around for a while, the least I can do is ease your burden."

"That sounds like a fine idea, Amelia," Paul added. Clem began to cough again, this time, almost falling off her chair. Paul and Amelia rushed to help steady Clem.

"Get your hands off me, you scoundrels!" yelled Clem. "I'm completely capable of looking after myself. Alas, you can aid me if you wish, Amelia."

A smile spread across Amelia's face. If she was going to be stuck in 1820, she might as well make herself useful.

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Clem ushered Amelia to her laundering post out by the stable. Before them stood two large wooden tubs and wooden sticks. Next to that was a large kettle-like pot. Between coughs, Clem directed Amelia, "Now, you have to make a nice, sturdy stack of wood here so we can heat the water."

"Where is the wood?" Amelia inquired.

"It's in the stable, of course!" Clem said, in an obvious tone.

Amelia made her way towards the stable when she was abruptly stopped in her tracks when Clem said, "Don't forget to chop it! The axe is by the wood."

She genuinely felt bad that Clem and Paul had to do all of this manual labor by themselves. More and more, Amelia began to realize exactly why they kept mentioning that they were lucky to be alive at their age. Before she could lean over to pick up the axe, she heard scuffling outside.

"Get off me, you crazy louse!" she heard Clem yelling.

"It's you who's the crazy louse! I see what you're doing here, thinking you're better than the rest of us," an unknown woman yelled back in a thick Irish accent.

Amelia rushed out of the stable to see Clem and this other woman playing tug-of-war with a large piece of fabric. Instinctively, Amelia put herself between Clem and the woman, grabbing the fabric, and quickly winning it back. 

"I could have taken her!" Clem yelled back at Amelia.

"Oh, now you've taken on your own people, now?" the woman retorted.

"Get out! Right now!" Amelia caught herself yelling back.

Amelia stood much taller than Clem and the Irish woman. Having grown up with modern nutrition, she practically towered over them. She walked towards the woman, glared down at her eyes and slowly said, "If you ever bother her again, you will have me to deal with."

With that, the woman spat on the floor, muttered something in Gaelic, and left the area. Amelia turned back to Clem, who had dissolved into a fit of coughs on the floor. She rubbed Clem on the back trying to soothe her into taking deep breaths. 

"What was all that about?" she asked Clem.

As soon as Clem caught her breath she responded. "That's Moira O'Brannaugh. We would launder together at the communal sinks until I decided it was best for me to do it on my own. She thinks I'm stealing her business, but the sinks are closer to some of the factories. I couldn't keep going there," she explained.

Amelia decided Clem had had enough stress for the day. "If you show me how to launder, I will do it all today. Please, just go inside and rest. I will take care of your work."

"Don't be silly, girl. You don't..." but Amelia had cut off Clem.

"I insist! Please go and rest. I will finish up, and we will deal with Moira soon enough," she pleaded with Clem. 

She'd made up her mind about taking over for Clem that day. She'd also made up her mind about something else: tomorrow she would go visit those factories to see exactly why they were making Brooklyn so dirty, and Clem so ill.