The House on Moore Street

Acknowledgement: I'd like to express my gratitude to Snooper for taking the time to critique the original draft of this story. I want to thank this editor for their advice and guidance, both that which I took, and that I didn't.

Chapter 1

Matthew Moore completed the house around midyear 1870. He had begun construction of the home he was building for his future wife, Clara DeRose, nearly four years earlier when he sectioned off a two acre site on the east side of his farm. Wanting the home to be something special, Matthew took his time and except for the frame raising, all the work, including all the finely detailed woodwork, molding, and cabinetry used throughout the house was built and finished with his own hands. Matthew also made many of the fine pieces of furniture that filled the new house. Doing so much of the work on his own explained not only the amount of time it took to build the house, but also reflected the love and care he put into it. When finished the home would be the finest in the area, and would include some of the most recent new fangled developments such as indoor plumbing with running water, fed by a wind driven well pump. The house also held finely appointed bathrooms, which meant they had tubs, basins, and thanks to the invention of the septic system by a Frenchman a decade earlier, inside toilets. Matthew went to such extremes not because of pride or conceit, but because he wanted his efforts to reflect his respect, love, and devotion to Clara. Luckily, he had the time and the wherewithal for this project since his was one of the largest and most profitable farms in the fledgling community of Palm Grove, Florida.

In Matthew's mind, the home needed to be a big, fine house for several reasons, not the least of which was he wanted Clara to have only the best. Matthew also had a dream of seeing the city develop into something more than the farming community it was. His opportunity to realize that dream came when town planners asked local land owners to sell off parcels of land so the city could expand, helping to make it a southern attraction for those rich northerners who came to sunny Florida each year to escape their harsh winters. Matthew Moore decided he would sell, on condition, a considerable section of his farm adjacent to the site of his new home. The conditions he set were the city street that fronted his property would be residential in nature, had to be named Moore Street, and this section of town would be the most exclusive area set aside for those rich Yankees to build their fine new homes upon. To make sure certain building standards were met, the house he was putting up for Clara and he would set the tone for this section of town, one sure to set off a 'one better' competition among the new residents as each new house was built.

Another reason Matthew needed a big house was Clara's cousin, Margaret, would also be living with them. Margaret was a few years younger than Clara but the two women were very close. When he and Clara first started courting, he thought when they stepped out Margaret accompanied them as a chaperone, as was common for the time, but came to quickly recognize his lady friend and her cousin were an inseparable pair. Later when he asked for her hand in marriage, before she accepted, Clara made it unmistakably clear to him Margaret would also be living with them. Matthew had been seeing Clara for nearly a year and half before proposing and was not at all surprised by Clara's demand. Fortunately, throughout the courtship, they had such fun together as a threesome Matthew came to look forward to his visits with the two women, and thought the three of them living together was not an unreasonable request.

Ten days after he finished the house Clara and Matthew were married and, along with Margaret, moved into their new home. As was the custom Matthew carried Clara over the threshold, but was taken aback when she insisted he do the same with Margaret. Bewildered he nonetheless complied, not wanting to upset his new wife on her big day.

In short order, because of the Moore's philanthropy, they became important social and political leaders in the small but growing community, and as the town grew so did their influence and standing. In not so many years, just as Matthew had foreseen, having a home on Moore Street in Palm Grove was akin to having a Park Avenue address in New York City.

The trio led a long, healthy, loving, and prosperous life, living happily for sixty years in the house Matthew built. During all that time Margaret never dated much less married, but given the familiarity and intense devotion the three of them shared, neither did she miss having a man of her own. Some of the town folk thought it a shame a fine looking woman such as Margaret lived her life as a spinster, her whole life revolving around that of her cousin and husband. What they never realized though was how much a part of Clara and Matthew's life Margaret really was.

From time to time for five, six months at a stretch during the first seven of the sixty years they lived together, Margaret would not participate in the many social gatherings held at the Moore house, nor be seen outside the house. During Margaret's absences, Clara would appear to be pregnant and half the time she really was.

Some gossips mistakenly thought the reason the younger woman disappeared during Clara's pregnancies was that she was heartbroken at the thought of never having a child of her own. Other folks said Margaret disappeared because she was a recluse, the less kind said it was because she was a mad woman. Had the truth been known, there would have been a real scandal for the nosy parkers to chatter about. Given the moral standards of the era, during the times of her disappearances Margaret was protecting her cousins and husband's, as well as her own reputation. In that day and age reputation, image, and stature were everything. Yet, in spite of that, Margaret felt no shame and had no regret, then or ever at how she chose to live her life.

Six children were born in the home, four boys, and two girls. The boys went away to college and the girls to finishing school. All of the children married and raised fine families of their own and remained living in the area. Although none of the children had the political influence their parents and aunt had enjoyed, they nonetheless led successful and fulfilled lives.

During one summer late in life, Clara gathered at the home on Moore Street her granddaughters and nieces so she could talk with them one by one. Although she never mentioned anything about it to her husband or cousin, a few weeks before the 'gathering' she'd been visited by a presence, one she couldn't explain or define, but neither did she fear it. To Clara, the presence was almost like a living being, not at all like a ghost or some other sort of unpleasant apparition, but something, someone she felt comfortable having around her.

Without Clara being conscious of it, it had been the Presence who had compelled her to call her granddaughters and nieces together. At first, Clara wasn't sure why she needed to talk with them, and why only the females, but that is what she did. The conversations she had with each of the girls, who ranged in age from seven to nineteen was not specific, but just about this and that. As they spoke, Clara studied each young lady, looked into her eyes, listened to how she spoke, and took in her mannerisms. Only one of the girls struck a note in Clara and that was her thirteen-year-old granddaughter Mamie. There was something about the way the girl talked and carried herself, something Clara had seen in Mamie's eyes that made her understand instantly and with incontrovertible clarity why she'd had these conversations.

Within a heartbeat or two of selecting Mamie the Presence said, seemingly inside Clara's head, "You have chosen well Clara. Mamie is the one who will follow." After that day, Clara never again heard or felt the Presence even though it would always be by her side.

The next day Clara told Matthew what she wanted when she died, and he never questioned her as to why. Somehow, tacitly he understood.

After that whenever they were together, Clara asked Mamie to sit or walk with her and they talked for hours on end. Clara taught Mamie about the house her grandfather had built, about the family, their history, the part they played in the city's development and about love and relationships. The one thing she never mentioned though, fearful Mamie would think her insane, was anything about the Presence that had visited her that summer.

Two and a half years later Margaret died, followed four months after by Clara. Matthew was heartbroken, some said devastated by each woman's passing. He received sympathy and well wishes from the town folk, but nothing could make him forget the two women with which he'd spent his life. After they were gone, Matthew felt lost, empty, and had no zest left for living, becoming almost a hermit in his own home. If it weren't for his children and grandchildren, especially Mamie, Matthew would have become a total shut-in never seeing anyone.

Never quite the same after they died, Matthew outlived both women by half a decade. Then, according to Clara's wishes, he left the property he'd so lovingly built, maintained, and shared with his two loves to his granddaughter Mamie.

Chapter 2

Unusually for the time, Mamie lived alone in the house for a couple of years before her sister Mary moved in with her. A little more than a year later, after making it perfectly clear they would live in the house her grandfather built, and that Mary would continue to live with them too, Mamie married Harvey Barr.

Mary was a beautiful woman with tremendous grace and poise. Many of the locals thought it a tragedy she never married. It wasn't that she didn't have suitors, she had many, but Mary was satisfied with the life she was leading with her sister and husband.

Harvey was an executive on the regional railroad. Despite the economic depression the country was in the midst of, Harvey's income, along with the Moore girls' trust funds and some other investments, afforded the three of them a very nice lifestyle. The trio also enjoyed a robust social life with a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. What's more, thanks to their grandmother Clara and great Aunt Margaret's efforts, Mamie and Mary maintained in the community the standing of social mavens. In the steadily growing community, by example, and with no conscious effort, they set the standards of style and décor, the goal to which many other residents of Palm Grove aspired. Even though they felt somewhat duty bound to continue, Mamie and Mary also honestly wanted to keep up the civic, social, and charitable responsibilities their predecessors had been involved with so dedicatedly. Moreover, not unlike during the Moores' time, an invitation to a party at the Barrs' meant you'd reached the very pinnacle of high society, and such an invitation was very much sought after.

Six more children were born in the home, three boys, and three girls. All went to college, each coming back to Palm Grove after to settle down. The boys went on to have successful careers, two starting new businesses in town and one taking over running the family farm, much of which had been sold off over the years as the town grew. The girls all married local men, men who in their own right were successful. While comfortable financially, none of the children were as well to do as their parents or grandparents had been, nor did they have the political influence the family once enjoyed.

One more thing they had in abundance was a large, happy, and close-knit family, with one exception. Mamie and Mary had an older sister, Mabel, who refused to have any kind of relationship with her siblings. Ever since Mary moved into the house on Moore Street, Mabel, very aware of what was going on in that house, had had issues with the life her two younger sisters were living. The estrangement from their older sister, because they had always been so close, had been very hard and emotionally draining on the pair. To their credit, even though Mabel turned her back and a deaf ear on them, her sisters never stopped their efforts to reconcile with her.

For forty-seven years Mamie, Mary, and Harvey lived together and were very happy. Sadly that all came to a tragic and sudden end one rainy afternoon when on a drive back from Tallahassee, Harvey and Mary died together in a car accident, run off the road by a truck driver during a terrible rainstorm. Heartbroken, Mamie lived alone in the house for the next twenty years.

It wouldn't be until after Mary died that Mabel would come around. Unfortunately, it had taken a tragedy for her to realize how much she had missed by shutting her siblings out of her life. Mabel's attitude turned completely around and she embraced Mamie, at first because of their shared grief, then with the regret of what the estrangement had cost in terms of her relationship with her sisters and finally, regardless of the actions she had so hard-heartedly taken, with the love she'd never truly forsaken for them. For the rest of her life Mabel spent as much time as she could with Mamie trying to make up for the precious time she'd lost.

About ten years before she passed away, Mamie was visited by the same presence that had called on Clara so many years earlier. As it had done with Clara, the Presence compelled Mamie to gather all her young female relations to her home and speak with them. Just as Clara hadn't, Mamie didn't at first quite understand why she was doing this, but once her choice was made everything became instantly crystal clear. After spending time with each girl, Mamie selected her great niece Susan, the daughter of Mabel's youngest daughter Linda, as the one who would get the house on Moore Street when she was gone.

Just as it had when Clara chose Mamie, the Presence confirmed the selection saying, "You have chosen well Mamie. Susan is the one who will follow." Never again would Mamie feel the warm, comfortable, and soothing presence of her visitor, even though the Presence would always be with her.

The next day Mamie went to her lawyer and amended her will to reflect the decision she'd made. Now she had to teach Susan the things her grandmother had taught her, and more too. She simply HAD to impart upon Susan the sum total of her life experience. Even though Susan and Mamie spent a lot of time together before the 'selection', they would spend a great deal more time together afterwards.

Susan simply adored the old lady. Ever since she could remember, Susan knew she loved the old woman dearly, missed her terribly when they were apart, and felt they'd always had some sort of special...connection. Their closeness only grew as they spent even more time together after 'the conversation' that summer. She cherished any time they spent together and realized early on there was a lot she could learn from her great aunt, if she just took the time to listen, which she did intently. During their many talks, Mamie educated Susan about the family, the house, how it came to be built, the Moore's place in local history, and about love and relationships. Mamie, like Clara never made mention of the Presence to Susan, afraid of what the girl would think.

Aunt Mamie was more like a grandmother to her then her own grandma was. Grandma Mabel was so different from her great aunt. At least to Susan Grandma Mabel wasn't mean or unkind, but she had such a dour attitude and wasn't what you'd call a very warm person. Family rumor had it that for a very long time Mabel did not see or speak with either of her younger sisters very often, at least not until after her sister Mary died. Susan wasn't sure why there was a rift between them; it was just something that was never talked about. One time during their many talks, Susan asked about it, and for the first time ever got only a vague answer from Aunt Mamie.

Aunt Mamie on the other hand was always cheerful, happy, and upbeat, but there was also a palpable undertone of sadness about her. Several times Susan caught Mamie staring off into the distance lost in thought. Family members said, and Susan agreed Mamie missed Uncle Harvey and her sisters. Susan thought missing them was understandable because Mamie had outlived her husband and younger sister by twenty years, and her older sister by six. Her great aunt shared so many wonderful and happy stories about Uncle Harvey and Aunt Mary, there was no doubt of her love for the two of them. She'd also shared that she regretted her sister Mabel couldn't come to terms with, and accept the lives her younger sisters had chosen until it was too late. When Susan asked what she meant, Aunt Mamie just looked at her, smiled and told her one day she would understand when the time came.

It was a sad day for the family, but especially for Susan when Mamie passed away. Her passing wasn't unexpected, she was after all an old woman, but Susan knew she had lost someone very special. She was soothed in the thought her great aunt hadn't suffered, grateful Mamie went peacefully in her sleep.

A short probate period passed before the will was read to the gathered successors by Mamie's executor, Cornelius T. Peabody. He'd been Mamie's lawyer and friend for nearly fifty years and had a slow, plodding manner of reading that drove the less patient hopeful inheritors crazy. Near the end of the will's reading Peabody got to Susan's bequest, and in spite of having been told by Mamie on numerous occasions, she was genuinely surprised when she found indeed her great aunt had left her the house on Moore Street.

Meanwhile the Presence patiently waited.

Chapter 3

Just before ten o'clock at night, Susan Richards turned her car into the drive of the house her great-great-grandfather Matthew had built. The old house was hers now, had been for the past two years, and she loved living in such an old and distinctive home. Matthew Moore's dream of so many years before had been fully realized. Since the time the house was built, the neighborhood had always been a nice place to live. At first, it had been an upper class neighborhood catering to the very rich, and even now was made up of middle to upper middle class people. Even though, as everyone knows, there's always that one neighbor who doesn't, most everyone cared about their property and kept things up, making it a very nice and choice place to live still. Best of all, in the past five or six years younger couples had begun buying the old properties and restoring them. With all the children in the neighborhood again, the area was experiencing a rebirth as it were.

Tonight Susan was just too exhausted to think about any of that as she dragged herself out of her car and walked towards the front porch. Susan's exhaustion was understandable because tonight was the twelfth in a row she'd gotten home late, having started each day rolling out of bed at the ungodly hour of four o'clock.

Susan was a certified lighting engineer and designer who worked with architects, interior designers, builders, and homeowners, helping them get the most out of their lighting systems. Lately she'd been working two projects as lead designer and it was keeping her hopping. There was the new hotel and casino being built at West Palm Grove, and she was designing the lighting for the exterior and the primary access road. The theme of the enterprise was a tropical South Sea paradise, and the owners wanted plenty of neon, lighted fountains, and spotlights on certain architectural highlights. They wanted the boulevard leading up to the property lighted, but didn't want traditional streetlights, so that was a bit of a challenge but nothing she couldn't handle. Overall, the project was pretty straightforward but took a good deal of time and coordination to manage.