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the absence of my best friend, I begged to be placed in a position somewhere, anywhere that would fill my days with work and drive away the loneliness. Less than a week later my employment began in the household of Lady Beatrix Miller. Little did I know I was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. She was a young, beautiful, spoiled brat. She had married a man fifteen years her senior who had even more money than her overindulgent father. Lord Miller cared little how much of his money Lady Beatrix spent, as long as she fulfilled her purpose of being his hostess for grand affairs and a vessel to produce an heir. The marriage was cold and loveless and suited them both perfectly. I started out as scullery help, but soon worked my way up the servant ladder. For the past ten years, I have worked as lady’s-maid to Lady Beatrix. She is haughty and cruel, and assumed my lot in life must go along with being stupid and unlearned, but I read and write far better than she does. She was born with enough money to never work a day in her life. Why is it that people who do nothing to earn their keep, look down their noses on those that do?”

It pleased Tillie to see that she had not been mistaken, underneath Vivienne’s docile nature and small stature was a bucket load of spunk.

Vivienne’s voice changed once again, smoothly reverting back to that of strong confidence as she continued. “I married John seven years ago and two years later, Jonah, our son was born. He is rambunctious and loud and is the light of my life.” She took a deep breath to relieve the catch that had tightened her throat.

“John is a full-fledged baker now,” she continued. “He and Jonah will join me in New York in a few months.”

“I feel as if a miracle dropped out of the sky to bring me here. I was going through my daily duties, which for three days included being available to Mrs. Polly Franklin, a guest of Lady Beatrix, who was visiting from America. Mrs. Franklin turned out to be both lovely in spirit and face, and gave me my dearest heart’s desire.”

“On the third morning of Miss. Polly’s visit (I was graciously told to call her Miss. Polly), she summoned me to her suite of rooms and closed the door. I was apprehensive, thinking I was to be reprimanded for a miss-step, but instead, she asked me to please sit with her on the dainty pale green settee at the foot of the ornately carved canopy bed. She took my hand in hers, and asked about John and Jonah, and had we ever considered leaving England for America? I tried to speak, but nothing came out. It was like asking a starving man if he would like a loaf of bread.”

“I started to cry, afraid to believe that what I wanted most for my family might truly be a possibility. I explained that we had saved every spare penny towards that end and were getting close to the passage fare, but we would have no money to live on until we found positions. Miss Polly smiled and patted my hand and said I had misunderstood, she was not asking a casual question -- she would like me to consider being her Abigail. With a mischievous smile she said she was sure she would never be invited back to the Miller’s after stealing me away, although the thought was unspoken, neither of us felt it a great loss.”

“I was beside myself and felt I might faint. She gave me a hug and said we could talk more that afternoon, and work out the arrangements. I felt like I was floating a foot off the ground for the rest of the day. I held my secret close to my heart, not wanting to share it with anyone except John and Jonah.”

“That afternoon, Miss Polly had everything in order. She had checked the schedule of the ships sailing to America, and wanted me to leave for New York on the thirtieth of November, however, she understood I needed to repeat her offer to John. She felt it best if I came for a short time in order to settle in, before John and Jonah joined me. She explained that America was very different than Britain, and if I found myself unhappy, she would gladly provide a return ticket.”

“I burst through the door that evening and ran straight into John’s arms, but when I tried to tell him the news the tears started flowing and I muddled my words. After frightening him and Jonah near to death, I finally got control of my emotions and explained. I had never seen John cry, until that night. I don’t think either of us slept a wink.”

“The next day I had a ticket in my hand and a bit of spending money in my pocket to get me to America.” Vivienne turned toward Tillie for effect, “Do you know Miss Polly actually apologized for giving me a third class ticket, explaining that no second class cabins were available? I told her I would happily shovel coal all the way across the Atlantic Ocean if that would get me to America.”

“So, there you have it,” Vivienne finished as she returned to her back, “The tale of my life story, and I feel better for the sharing.”

Vivienne heard the bunk creak slightly as Tillie turned from her side to her back and whispered, “Sweet dreams, Vivienne, you have made sure I will have a few myself.”

Vivienne felt happy and relaxed, she easily slipped into a deep restful sleep.

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Vivienne bought pen and stationery with some of her spending money, and took time each day to write a few lines to John and Jonah. She described the ship, the people she had met, and the dolphins that would race beside the ship. They would fly through the air, then dive and disappear beneath the waves. After each session she would neatly fold the paper, and place it back in its folder. She planned to seal them together and post them on the last day aboard ship.

The mild weather held for the duration of the crossing, easing those who became seasick. Thankfully, none of the four friends suffered from that affliction. They spent their days on deck enjoying the fresh air, or in the large, well-appointed common room. They were fortunate to have a good number of talented musicians in third class. Some had brought violins and other small instruments that they joined with the piano provided by the ship. There were boisterous sing a-longs and carefree dancing, making the seven days pass very quickly.

The ship’s scheduled docking at the New York City pier would take place the following day. At two pm, on December seventh, Vivienne would walk off the ship and into her new life. Her emotions were changing by the minute, form excited to frightened, to content. She had no idea how to convince her eyes to close long enough to fall asleep. Leah and Evie were having the same difficulty, but the soothing rocking motion of the ship was like a sleeping potion. The gentle to and fro soon lulled all of them into a peaceful sleep.

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The next morning found the cabin filled with excited chatter, laughter, and what fragment of sunshine the porthole allowed into the room. It would be hours before they reached New York, but all the bags were neatly packed and ready for debarkation. Breakfast had, until today, been a leisurely time to talk of the day’s plans and relax, but this morning the girls constantly fidgeted and Vivienne couldn’t eat more than two bites. She checked the large round clock hanging on the far wall, it showed eight am, but they were not due to dock until two pm. Six hours! How were they to keep busy for six hours?

“Let’s walk,” she said as she abruptly stood up. They retoured all the places they had seen several times before, but the activity was helpful. As usual, Evie, held Vivienne’s hand, but today a little tighter. She looked up at Vivienne and pleaded, “You promise you will not forget us?” Vivienne realized her nervousness was affecting the girls. She stopped and squatted down to be eye level with Evie. “I will never forget you, and I will come see you as often as possible.” Evie smiled her relief and wrapped her arms around Vivienne in a big hug. Vivienne returned the hug and consciously forced her body to relax.

The question had released all of them from their case of the nerves. They decided to sit on deck and read for awhile. The girls had brought a large book of beautifully illustrated fairy tales. It had been a wonderful surprise to find out that not only could Vivienne read, but that she had a flair for the dramatic. She enjoyed bringing the characters to life, in fact, by the end of the story the group listening had grown from the four of them to a rather large crowd.

After an hour of walking and an hour of reading, the deck was full of passengers. Everyone began telling stories of where they were from and why they were going to America. Some spoke in broken English or no English at all, and looked to interpreters to explain. They laughed with some and cried with others, and were all startled when the lunch bell rang, unaware they had been sharing for two hours. Lunch was simple and short, but still took up another hour.

The four cabin mates rushed back up on deck, they could see New York harbor coming into view. They were still a long way out, but that didn’t stop them from racing downstairs to retrieve their belongings, and leave their little cabin for the last time.

Evie held Vivienne’s hand, slowly tightening her grip as New York grew closer and closer. Vivienne raised their locked hands up to kiss Evie’s, giving her a brilliant smile of reassurance.

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The docking was a slow arduous process, but the ramps were finally lowered, allowing a continuous stream of people to flow out of the massive ship. A beautiful woman, who looked more like a china doll than a living person, hurried up to the girls with tears flowing down her porcelain skin. The emerald green velvet cape she wore perfectly matched her eyes and added an extra glow to her golden blonde hair. It was apparent the girl’s dark hair had come from their father’s side of the family. Leah slid easily into her aunt’s arms, but Evie hesitated, not wanting to let go of Vivienne. With Evie in tow Vivienne took a step forward. She extended her free hand saying, “It’s so nice to meet you. I am Vivienne Taylor. I shared a cabin with your nieces and Tillie.”

“How nice to meet you, are you staying in New York?” The

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