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Minutes before midnight, December 31, 1924
Only his nose was visible. She reached out the feather she had extracted from her pillow and ran it under his nose. He batted at it in his sleep, one hand venturing out from under his cot’s covers, then he rolled over onto his side, facing her.
“Psst, Dence, wake up.” Modesty poked him in the chest for good measure. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Go ‘way, I’m sleeping,” murmured Credence.
“You’re awake enough to talk to me.”
Her older brother snored faintly, his breath visible in the chilly air. Screwing up her face in irritation, she decided it was time to bring in the big guns. She pulled the covers off his face and put her cold hands on his nice warm neck.
“Christ!” he reacted, sitting straight up in bed and smacking away her hands.
“Blasphemy. Be quiet or Ma’ll hear us,” said Modesty, putting her hands back into her armpits. They were cold, Credence was right about that.
“Modesty, what did you do, go swim in the harbor? Your hands are ice.”
“So let me warm them up.”
“You better be glad you’re my favorite sister,” he said, and lifted the covers so she could slip in for a late-night confabulation.
He hissed as she put her cold feet on his calves. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Stars.”
“What, like Mary Pickford and Valentino? Or someone from Music Box Review that opened this month?”
“No silly, the other kind. You know, the Big Dipper and ‘Rion and that M or W one…”
“Cassiopeia.”
“Yeah. Those stars, the ones in the skies, not out in California.”
“What about them?” Credence didn’t understand why Modesty had a thing for astronomy. He had pointed out a few constellations on clear nights when the street lights didn’t drown them out and told her some stories about the Greek gods as they were coming home on winter nights from leaf-letting for Mary Lou’s church services.
Modesty loved non-biblical stories, but knew enough to hide her interest from their foster mother. She drew pictures of star ladies with star tiaras and wispy Milky Way floaty draperies for dresses. On a few of her sketches, she added big white wings so she could excuse them as pictures of angels if anyone asked.
“There’s gonna be a total solar eclipse next month. I want to see it, you need to take me.”
“Maybe when you’re older, that sounds like a fun thing to do.”
“I won’t live that long!”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Modesty.”
She opened her eyes wide. “I’m not, it’s the truth. The last one was in 1478 way before Columbus and there won’t be another total solar eclipse visible from New York City until 2079. And I’m not Methuselah.”
“What about a partial one?”
“The next one is in 1932. Who knows where we’ll all be. Pleeeeease, Credence. It sounds so amazing, like something biblical.”
“Well, that’s how we’ll try to sell it to Mary Lou, then. Now happy new year and go back to sleep, okay?”
“You’re the best!” she cried before shushing herself and threw her arms in a hug around him. “I promise, I’ll be really good so no one gets beaten on my account.”
January 2, 1925
“Modesty even memorized verses about eclipses. Surely being allowed to see an actual eclipse would underline the biblical nature of the event even in our modern world for us.”
Credence made his point and then, sensible to Mary Lou’s moods, he waited.
She looked up from writing her latest brimstone screed of a sermon and looked over at Modesty, who stood without fidgeting, for once, her eyes downcast, the very model of child who was seen and not heard.
“Go ahead, then. Let’s hear them.”
Modesty took a deep breath. “In the Old Testament there’s Isaiah 13:10: For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof shall not give their light: the sun shall be darkened in his going forth, and the moon shall not cause her light to shine.” And Ezekiel 32:7 and Joel 2:10 are the same thing: “And when I shall put thee out, I will cover the heaven, and make the stars thereof dark; I will cover the sun with a cloud, and the moon shall not give her light.”
“Good girl, Modesty. And what about you Credence? What about the New Testament?” she asked, turning on the young man in the somber dark clothes.
Credence gulped. “M-Matthew 24:29, “But immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from the sky, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”
“That’s right. That’s what we’re in now, the Tribulation of Those days. The Great War was just the start of it, mark my words.” She thought a few moments. “You won’t miss handing out leaflets or a service going to see this, will you?”
“No, ma’am, it’s in the early morning on a Saturday,” said Credence respectfully.
“All right. You two can go see an eclipse. Chastity can go too, if she wants.”
Chastity definitely did not want. “Get up on a cold January day to see a lousy shadow on the sun? No thank you, I’d rather stay indoors where it’s warm.”
“You’ll be sor-reeee,” said Modesty in a sing-song voice. She delighted in annoying their pious sister who tried to imitate Mary Lou whenever possible.
“You’ll be freeee-zing, and I won’t send a flask of coffee with you two either,” retorted the teenager.
Credence asked Ted, who was the newsboy on the corner across from his at 42nd and 5th to save him articles he saw about the eclipse and other astronomy events for Modesty. He might have fibbed and indicated that Chastity was also interested in stars. Ted had seen her a time or two with Credence and had a bit of a crush on her.
Thus, a series of grubby articles made their way to Credence in the early weeks of January 1925 leading up to the eclipse. Modesty read eagerly about the watchers who would track where exactly in Manhattan the edge of the eclipse totality began* and about scientists in Buffalo and Ithaca and Boston who were timing the event precisely to figure out the speed of light.
Credence found a ripped-out ad from an unnamed paper which advertised an Eclipse watch party on the Great Hill of Central Park. “Astrology Students from Ilvermorney and similar Learned Academies are cordially invited to this family event for all ages.” He showed it to Modesty, who laughed. “They typed astrology where it should have said astronomy.”
They decided to join this group of sky-watchers, even though they’d need to catch a very early train uptown to be there when the eclipse began just before 8 in the morning. The mayor was planning to view the event from the steps of City Hall, the New York Times reported.
“Do you think we should get some dark glasses? They say it’s not safe to look directly at the sun, even during an eclipse,” he wondered aloud to Modesty. He’d heard some vendors hawking them, “Save your eyes for 10 cents! View the eclipse in comfort and safety.”
“Do you have a spare dime? I don’t,” she retorted.
“Okay, we’ll just have to squint or look indirectly,” said Credence, still a bit worried.
Then he worried about the weather. In the days before the eclipse, winter gales lashed the city and some of the coldest weather moved in. Overnight the mercury was due to drop to near zero and then reach a balmy 9* above zero for the morning eclipse. “How are we going to stay warm enough? We’ll be exposed to the wind, even if there is a crowd around us.”
“I am going,” said Modesty, setting her jaw firmly. “And if you don’t take me, I’ll go alone, you know I will.”
Credence sighed deeply. He knew how strong willed she was when she wanted something. She was worse than water dripping on a stone, wearing it down. And so, bundled in multiple layers of tops, bottoms and sweaters and hats and several pairs of socks over their feet stuffed in boots, Credence and Modesty headed off on their adventure. Modesty’s mittened hands played with the fringe on the maroon woolly scarf Chastity forced on her at the last minute.
Chastity then had shoved her mittens over Credence’s threadbare gloves and hissed at him. “Don’t lose her, don’t get frostbite and if you two die from the cold, I’ll never forgive you for leaving me alone with Mary Lou.”
“You have a pleasant day too, Chaz,” said Modesty sarcastically as she pulled Credence out the door into the horribly frigid dawn.
They stamped their feet to keep circulation going as they waited for the uptown train. Credence could feel his nose hairs freeze as he re-wrapped the scarf so only Modesty’s eyes were visible. She danced a jig in the slightly less Arctic train as it made its way northward along the elevated line to their stop at 103rd Street.
They clattered down the long stairs and turned to head to Central Park when Modesty shrieked, “Dence, pick it up!” and pointed at a quarter lying in the gutter. “Now we can get our smoked glasses!” she said with satisfaction and turned them toward a news vendor who was hawking glasses and had two pairs left.
To their surprise when they arrived at The Great Hill there were a lot of people there, of all ages and from all over the world judging from what could be seen of their faces. Many people wore odd pointed hats and thick scarves, many with similar colors and chevrons on them. Many had large capital I letters knitted into hats or the backs of gloves. A lot of them seemed under-dressed for the bitterly cold weather and unbothered by it.
“It’s going to be the cat’s pajamas!” cried out a young blonde flapper in a violently pink coat. “I’m so glad you came with me, Tina.”
“Thank my boss, he wanted me here as eyes on the ground,” said her companion, a dark-haired woman with an alert expression, indicating the older gentleman standing some distance away, conversing with a tall dark-skinned lady with an elegant fur turban and an auburn-haired man who held her gloved hand solicitously.
Credence sneezed violently and Modesty started to shiver a little since they were no longer moving. The very top leftmost sliver of the sun was hidden. It was a very clear day, with no snow.
“Oh, nargles, sweetie, you’re cold. Here, borrow my muff, I put on some good long lasting warming charms,” said the pink clad woman to Modesty. She took off her pale pink cashmere scarf and threw it around Credence’s neck. He sneezed again, this time from the Chanel No. 5 wafting into his sinuses. Strangely, it seemed to warm not just his neck, but his entire body.
He leaned over to whisper to Modesty, “are you warm all over too?”
She nodded enthusiastically and turned her gaze back to the sky. For nearly three minutes at 9:11 a.m. the sky was dark with the eclipse. The early morning was like twilight, then night. A ring of light appeared to the impressed “ooohs” of the crowd. Gradually the moon shifted and the shadow uncovered the sun, ending at 10:29.
“Far more impressive than the partial one I saw as a nipper in 1806,” an elderly gentleman standing several feet away, said to his companion in the voice of someone near-deaf.
Credence stared at the man’s purple fez and grey beard reaching nearly to his waist. He couldn’t have heard that right, that would make the man over 120 years old. A real Methuselah.
“Credence, give the pink lady back her scarf,” said Modesty, passing back the muff with her thanks.
“Thank you so much. I don’t know what you did, but your clothes kept us warm,” Credence said to the blonde.
“That was almost like magic!” said Modesty with her usual enthusiasm. “How did you do that?”
The blonde woman and the dark hair woman named Tina looked at each other in alarm. “Shit, they’re no-majs,” said Tina.
“Shards, or clueless squibs,” said the other.
They both pulled out wands and pointed them at the confused Barebones staring at them.
“Obliviate.”
“I remember the eclipse and not being cold somehow, but do you remember anything between the end of the eclipse and being on the Elevated heading home? Was there a lady in pink or did I dream that?” asked Modesty as they walked the final block back to their home.
Credence rubbed his head. It ached and his memory seemed fuzzy.
“No, I don’t remember how we got to the train either. Did you have a good time?”
“Oh yes! Thanks to you we had a once in a lifetime experience.”
“But wasn’t there a man who said—” Credence shook his head. No, that couldn’t be right.
He must have dreamed something about an old sky watcher talking about seeing two eclipses over a century apart.