Phantoms In Philadelphia by Amalie Vantana Read Free Book Online Page B

tittered,
“We are not alone, my dear.”
    Richard looked around until his dot-like eyes
narrowed in on us, his black, bushy eyebrows snapping together. I
felt Jack stiffen, so I laid an admonishing hand on his arm.
    “Richard, I would like to present you to my
children, my son John and my daughter Elizabeth.”
    Richard Hamilton executed a grand bow, and as he
rose, he met our eyes when he said, “It is a pleasure to make your
acquaintance. Your mother has spoken of you much.”
    I must play my part.
    I curtseyed as Jack bowed; then Jack was the first
to speak. “The pleasure is all ours, sir. To meet one who has
brought back a smile into my mother’s eyes is a treat indeed.”
    Mother coughed, warning Jack to step warily, but
said nothing as she led Richard to the sofa. I moved to sit in a
chair by the fire, and Jack stood behind my chair resting his arms
on the back. I watched Richard’s every move, for every movement had
a meaning. Speaking with the hands could mean agitation and
nervousness. Shifting in one’s chair could mean a desire to flee.
My eyes moved to Richard’s hands. His middle finger on his left
hand had a callused bump, from writing no doubt, which meant that
he was left-handed.
    My father had said I have the gift of observation,
as he had. It was one of the reasons why I was made the leader. I
could see everything and find a way to make it work in my
favor.
    “What has brought you to Philadelphia, sir?” Jack
asked with interest sparking his words.
    Being left-handed, I watched to see which way his
eyes looked. For a left-handed person to look left while speaking,
they were remembering something, and to look right meant they were
creating something in their mind, often a lie.
    “I am searching for a house. I have considered
expanding my business to Philadelphia for some time and now,” he
looked at my mother with appreciation in his dark eyes, “I have
reason.”
    “What is your stand on slavery?” I asked, watching
as Richard’s eyes darted to his right then down, which could mean
that he was creating the reply that he believed I wanted to
hear.
    He met my eyes as he said, “Why, I am opposed.” He
turned an amused gaze to my mother. “I see that your daughter has
your zeal for politics.”
    “Elizabeth has a brilliant mind and is a great
advocate of freedom for all men, but she is not political.”
    Richard turned his eyes upon Jack, asking, “And does
young John have a political zeal?”
    “Decidedly not,” Jack said, disgust dripping from
his voice. “My tastes are much more refined.”
    “Were you not a soldier?” Richard asked, and for a
moment I thought I saw a look of more than curiosity, but then he
glanced at me, smiling, and I was not sure. I would acknowledge
that he had all the appearances of a good man, but appearances
could be deceiving; look at us.
    “I was,” Jack replied without emotion.
    “Jack served in Baltimore, but he does not like to
speak of it,” Mother explained.
    I felt Jack shift behind me. “War changes a man. It
is why I am considering entering the church.”
    “The church?” There was a blank glaze to Richard’s
eyes, as if what Jack had said was spoken in a different
language.
    “My mentor the Reverend Gideon Reid has been
tutoring me in all forms of literature and says that I would do
well there. Tell me, have you read Cowper? Gideon dotes upon
Cowper.”
    “A clergyman would prefer the words of a spiritual
man,” said Richard, clearly uncomfortable. He turned to my mother,
but Jack spoke in a reverent tone.
    “Fierce passions discompose the mind, as tempests
vex the sea, but calm, content and peace we find, when, Lord, we
turn to thee.”
    An uncomfortable silence followed. I covered my
mouth with two fingers as I leaned against the arm of my chair,
trying to keep from laughing. Mother shot Jack a glance that said
she was not at all amused.
    Richard stood awkwardly. “Well, my dearest heart, I
must away. I only stopped because I saw