Beyond the Ashes Read online

  “Six, if you count my mother.”

  A stone the size of Gibraltar settled in Gerald’s stomach. Complications, indeed.

  “Abby was confident you’d approve. I told her I was less certain.” Robert stood and strode toward the doorway. “Oh, and maybe a few cousins, too. Did I mention them?” He grimaced before ducking out the door.

  Gerald dropped his face into his hands.

  12

  Ruby covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief as the stench of latrines overcame her senses. The homeless camp stretched across the park, up the hill and out of sight—a sea of identical green wooden shanties set out in a perfect grid, like a battalion of battle-worn soldiers on a well-trampled parade ground. The countless stories from the Evening Bee came to life before her eyes. Ruby’s heart jumped.

  “The facility was built by the army.” Abby gestured to the structures. “They’ve brought some order to the chaos.”

  “So I see.” Ruby lowered the cloth and tried not to wrinkle her nose. “Five months have passed since the earthquake. How many still live here?”

  “Countless families. Thousands fled during the original disaster, but the men returned to work in the reconstruction effort and their loved ones followed. Much of the early rebuilding has taken place in the financial district and, of course, homes for the well-to-do. There’s still nowhere for these people to go.” Abby strode between the clapboard shacks with ease, nodding at women gathered in small groups and pausing as bands of children raced across their path, shrieking voices raised in play.

  Ruby hoisted the hem of her skirt out of the mud and struggled to keep pace. If she got turned around in this labyrinth, she’d never find her way home. “What are we here to do?”

  “Whatever is necessary.” Abby cast a smile over her shoulder as she stepped up onto a wooden boardwalk. “We hand out food, clothes, blankets. The Red Cross organizes the relief supplies, and we try to keep order.”

  Ruby glanced about at the unkempt children and the women working to maintain some type of households in this grime. The place reeked of need and desperation. Ruby nearly collided with Abby’s back when the young woman halted at the end of a lengthy row of shacks. The open area beckoned them out into the sunshine, the brown grass flattened into the mire. A Red Cross flag fluttered in the breeze above a large tent, the fragrance of hot food wafting from the canvas flaps. A restless crowd milled about outside.

  “Here we are.” Abby took a deep breath and smiled. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

  The odd assortment of fragrances stung Ruby’s sinuses, and she brushed her nose with a handkerchief. The ammonia-scented hospital seemed a million miles from this outdoor arena. “Splendid.”

  Abby’s lips pursed. “I know it probably appears quite shocking, but you should have seen the park during the fires. People camped everywhere, belongings strewn about, children crying.”

  A thorn pricked Ruby’s heart. She’d heard some of Robert and Abby’s stories about the terror of those days—who was she to judge? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun. This is what brought me to San Francisco.” She smoothed a hand across her white hospital apron. “What shall we do first?”

  “Ah, you’re here, then!” A male voice boomed through the yard. A tall, muscular fellow strode from the tent, a grin beaming from his pleasant face. “Good to see you again, Miss Abby. And who might this be?”

  Abby smiled and looped her hand through Ruby’s elbow, guiding her forward. “Patrick, this is Dr. King’s sister—soon to be mine, too, I suppose.”

  A glimmer danced in the man’s eyes. “Well, it’s an honor, Miss King. Patrick Allison, at your service.” He pulled off his round derby, his red hair catching the sunlight. “You look like a lass from home. Are you Irish, perchance?”

  Mr. Allison’s brogue tickled Ruby’s ears. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Allison. And it’s Mrs. Marshall. I’m not from Ireland, I’m afraid, though one of my grandmothers emigrated from Dublin as a child.”

  Patrick hooked his thumbs inside the armholes of his pin-striped vest. “Disappointed on two counts—married and only a touch of the Irish. More’s the pity. I apologize, Mrs. Marshall. I shouldn’t have assumed you were single, like our sweet Abigail.”

  Abby laughed. “Not for much longer. Robert and I will wed in November.”

  The man’s grin widened. “Cause for celebration.” He grinned, turning to the milling crowd. “Our own Miss Fischer is about to be married! What do you think, folks? Shall we hoist a bowl of stew in her honor?”

  Ruby’s heart lifted as the onlookers cheered. She saw no comfortable way to correct Abby’s friend about her own status.

  She and Abby followed Mr. Allison into the tent and took up stations behind the long table. A heavy-set woman stirred huge cast-iron kettles over a roaring fire, pausing to ladle a sizeable portion into a cook pot before handing it to Ruby.

  Ruby grasped the handle with a thin towel. Staggering under the weight, she managed to haul the container a few yards without sloshing its content on the ground. She eyed the table, wondering how she’d hoist the heavy load to its surface.

  “Here, allow me.” Patrick Allison stooped over and took the handle from Ruby, his large hand closing over hers.

  “Thank you.” She released her grip and stepped free.

  “I don’t believe soup would be an appropriate decoration for your lovely feet.”

  Ruby drew her toe tips under the edge of her skirt and reached for the ladle. A line of people waited, bowls in hand. As they handed small tickets to a woman waiting at the front of the line, Ruby gave the thick stew a quick stir.

  A boy stared up at her with sparkling blue eyes, a toothy grin brightening his smudged face.

  Warmth spread through Ruby’s chest as she watched him juggle a wooden tray, bracing it against his dirty shirtfront. Miriam would be proud. In this city, a sense of purpose called from every needy face, and Ruby’s long-dormant heart beat anew.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder to where the Irishman washed dishes, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, the linen fabric outlining the muscles of his biceps. He met her gaze with a grin and a quick wink.

  Abby balanced a basket of bread rolls on her hip and leaned close to Ruby’s ear. “The women here all think he’s a handsome devil. Not me, of course.” She cleared her throat.

  A devil indeed, Ruby hadn’t met a man as flirtatious since her school days. Ruby pressed her lips together. She forced her gaze back to the stew. “Mr. Allison seems quite friendly.” She couldn’t help comparing the charismatic fellow to Gerald Larkspur’s refined demeanor.

  Abby set a roll on a woman’s plate. “It’s Reverend Allison, actually, but he doesn’t like to draw attention to the fact. Patrick prefers to do his charity work on the sly.”

  Ruby paused, halting the dripping spoon in midair. “A minister? Are you serious?”

  “Is it so difficult to believe? Patrick’s down here at the camps nearly every day from dawn to dusk. If that doesn’t suggest a man of God, I’m not sure what does.”

  Vegetable-scented steam wafted up to warm Ruby’s cheeks. She glanced back at the gentleman with new eyes.

  He wiped his hands on a white dishcloth draped from his belt and made his way down the line, greeting the folks with cheerful words and welcoming smiles. Why hadn’t she spotted it right away? He resembled a shepherd tending to his flock. Or Jesus feeding the five thousand.

  Ruby turned back to Abby. “It’s not Father Allison? I thought most Irish were Catholic.”

  Abby shrugged. “Little surprises me in this city anymore. There are people of many nationalities and creeds in this camp.” A corner of her mouth lifted. “If you promise not to tell Robert, I’ll introduce you to my Chinese friend, Kum Yong. But she doesn’t live here.”

  Ruby cocked her head. “Why keep it from Robert?”

  A shadow dropped over the Abby’s face, and her gaze lowered to the basket of bread. “He doesn’t approve of me spending ti
me with the Chinese mission girls.” She glanced back at Ruby from under long lashes. “I was going to ask you if you knew why he had such strong feelings about the Chinese. It’s the one area in which we disagree.”

  Ruby stirred the pot, the ladle sending the broth and vegetables swirling like her thoughts. “I can’t imagine. Our father was adamant about treating all patients—all people—equally. I’m surprised Robert would speak otherwise.”

  Abby sighed. “I know he and Gerald sometimes treat Chinese patients. Perhaps I should ask Gerald about it. Kum Yong is a good friend. I don’t understand why Robert doesn’t approve.”

  Ruby continued spooning helpings into the waiting bowls. “Maybe I need to have a word with my brother.”

  “Oh, no, please don’t. I wouldn’t want him to think we’re forming ranks against him.”

  Patrick appeared at Ruby’s elbow with a second batch of hearty stew. He lowered the kettle into place with a grunt and cast a glowing smile at her, his gaze capturing hers for a moment.

  Ruby blushed, moving the ladle to the fresh pot. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Patrick claimed the empty container and moved away, his gray vest highlighting the width of his shoulders.

  Forcing her attention back to Abby’s problem, Ruby clucked her tongue. “Forming ranks? My dear, you must learn . . .” She gave Abby’s hand a quick squeeze. “It’s what sisters do.”

  * * *

  “Six sisters?” Dee giggled, a fresh bit of color rising to her pale cheeks. “You’re going to have your hands full.” Dappled sunlight from the tall window drifted across her bed.

  Gerald tucked the pencil into the pocket of his white lab coat. “Yes, well, I’m sure not all of them are coming. I imagine at least a few have other engagements.”

  The dark-haired woman shifted in the narrow bed. “Engagements—nice choice of words, Doctor. Perhaps we’ll see you engaged to one of these sisters before they all pack up and head home. You’ve been on the shelf too long if you ask me. It’s time you found a nice girl.” She patted his arm. “Must be lonely for a man like you to go home to an empty house every night.”

  Gerald snorted. “My house hasn’t been empty since the quake, Miss Feinstein. I’m fortunate if I can spend two minutes in my own company before I’m interrupted.”

  “How many times must I insist you call me Dee?” She pulled herself higher on the pillows. “And houseguests aren’t the same as a wife. What’s the old saying about fish and guests? They both stink after three days? Sort of like the cannery down at the pier.”

  “Then it’s surprising you can’t smell my house from here. Likely the King girls won’t want to stay after all.”

  “You’d better throw open a window or two. Air the place out.” Dee leaned back against the pillow and brushed a trembling hand across her brow.

  Gerald replaced the clipboard. He shouldn’t let her get so worked up, but her jokes brought him a flicker of hope. “I’ll do that. For now, you need to rest. We’ve got another treatment scheduled in a few hours.”

  She sighed. “I’d rather go sunbathing at the seaside than sit under your machine again. I know the X-rays work miracles, but it’s growing a bit tiresome.”

  “Let’s get you healthy, and I’ll escort you to the shore, myself.”

  A faint smile touched the woman’s pencil-thin lips. “No, I want you to take the lovely redheaded widow or one of her sisters. Ruby and Robert are both so handsome, it’s quite unfair to the rest of us. I’m certain one of the King girls would be an ideal bride for a lonely doctor.” She coughed, grimacing. “You make sure and woo one, you hear?”

  Gerald pushed away the thought of Ruby in a bathing costume. “They’ll be here to see their brother get married, not to snare a bachelor.”

  “Two birds, one stone. And what’s more romantic than a wedding?” She sucked in a short breath, wheezing like a Stanley Steamer. “Timing couldn’t be better.”

  13

  Ruby clamped her fingers on the edge of the wooden bench as the cable car rattled its way down the street toward Gerald’s house. She locked her knees, pushing the soles of her shoes against the floorboards to keep herself from swaying with each jolt. After a few weeks in the city, she was finally growing accustomed to the sensation.

  “We’ve only two blocks, and we must be ready to spring out. The car doesn’t pause but a moment.” Abby slid to the front of the seat, the breeze fluttering the wisps of brown hair along the sides of her face.

  Ruby adjusted a single hatpin, her own curls behaving for once, even after a second long day volunteering at the refugee camp. If Abby took a little more care, she wouldn’t have to contend with loose strands. Her brown locks would be lovely teased up into a Gibson Girl Psyche knot. Would she be willing to let me try it?

  A wave of homesickness rippled through Ruby’s heart. She never thought she’d miss helping her sisters style their hair. Elizabeth, especially, had the most beautiful blonde tresses. Ruby could still feel the silky strands slipping between her fingers. She pushed away the memory. Other than her family, Sacramento held nothing for her. San Francisco was the city of promise. The time had come to put down roots in this new place.

  Ruby grasped the brass pole for balance as the car slowed. “Where will you and Robert live once you are wed?”

  Abby stood and whisked into the aisle without even a wobble. “Robert’s looking into it. We’ve seen a few new homes built along Van Ness, not far from here. But the demand is high, as you might imagine. We may need to go farther afield.”

  Ruby pushed to her feet, her stomach lurching with the car’s movement. As the vehicle slowed, she lifted the hem of her walking skirt and followed Abby down the two narrow steps to the cobblestone street. Ruby darted a quick glance both directions, anxious to be out of the road before any automobiles or carriages rolled through. “So you are definitely staying in San Francisco?”

  Abby led the way through the sidewalk as the cable car rattled on down the hill. “Oh, yes. Robert’s work is here. I don’t enjoy the crush of the city, but since the disaster, the people here have become like family.”

  “Robert told me your family owns an orchard. Is it nearby?” Ruby frowned at the mud on her shoe tips.

  “The farm is in San Jose. Papa decided to sell the land after Cecelia passed away—in fact, he was there preparing the orchard for sale when the earthquake struck. It was terrifying being so far away and not knowing how he had fared. With everything that’s happened, he hasn’t been able to sell the property yet.”

  “I imagine he was quite frightened for you, as well.”

  “Your family must have been equally concerned for Robert.”

  The unwelcome memory washed over Ruby, a familiar knot reforming in her stomach. “We were sick with worry until his telegram arrived.”

  “I was with him when he sent it.” A tiny smile teased at Abby’s lips. “He’d just asked me to marry him.”

  Ruby stepped over some loose cobbles, still shifted from the quake. “I can’t believe the rascal never told us about you.”

  “I suppose he felt you’d already had enough of a shock.”

  Ruby’s heart warmed. Dismayed as she’d been to find her younger brother secretly engaged, this sweet young woman had wasted no time worming her way into Ruby’s affections. She could see why Robert was smitten. She wove her arm through Abby’s elbow as they walked. “Yes, but it would have been a pleasant shock. If I’d known he was taken care of, I might not have traipsed off to join him.”

  Abby’s brown eyes glowed. “Then I’m glad he maintained the secret. You’ve been a welcome addition. Robert is glad you’re here. And I haven’t seen Gerald smile so much in months. All of us, really.”

  Ruby swallowed, turning her gaze back to her soiled shoes. “Dr. Larkspur seems quite good-spirited. I don’t believe I can claim any of the credit.”

  Abby squeezed her arm. “Good-spirited, yes. But he’d been growing . . .” she scrunched her freckled nose, “a
bit melancholy. I think the research has wearied him. Since you arrived, he’s been smiling and laughing again. It does my heart good to see my cousin so cheery.” Her pace quickened, as if the idea gave an extra bounce to her step. “Perhaps the four of us could go out to dinner sometime. Get away from the rest of the family for an evening.”

  A weight descended on Ruby’s shoulders as Abby’s hints grew more pointed. She searched for a suitable diversion. “Tell me more about Reverend Allison. I’m perplexed as to why he acts like such a jokester when in reality he’s a man of God.”

  Abby reached for the gate, clicking open the path to Gerald’s home. “Patrick is a wit, that much is certain. But who’s to say a minister must be a dour-faced old man? If he has the joy of Christ in his heart, is it wrong for him to crack a smile?”

  Ruby pressed her lips together. “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be joyful. But he didn’t even introduce himself as a minster. It’s as if he’s ashamed of the fact.”

  As they approached the door, Otto’s excited bark sounded on the other side. Abby twisted the knob and the dog bounded out about her legs. “It’s the welcoming committee.” She smiled, reaching down to scratch the dog’s ears. Straightening, she turned to Ruby. “Patrick is quite sincere about his work. He feels he can reach people better if they know him as a man first—without all their preconceived suppositions about ministers. He spreads the gospel through serving their needs. He’s not there to preach. He’s living out God’s love.”

  Ruby followed Abby into the house, sinking down on one knee to greet her dog, smiling as the damp nose pressed into her hand. With a sigh, she swept Otto up into her arms and cuddled him to her chest. Why was she always so quick to judge people? Living out God’s love? All she’d seen were Patrick’s strong shoulders and his outgoing personality. A shiver ran through her. Besides, she had no business looking at a man in such a way—especially a man of the cloth. Next time she’d keep her gaze fixed on those she’d come to serve.

  * * *

  Gerald tapped his fingers on the desk. Ruby’s dog barked an alarm any time someone arrived or even walked past the house. With so many of them coming and going all day, they had little need for the turnkey doorbell. The women’s voices faded from the front hall.