Out of the Ruins

by Karen Barnett

  Robert paused, gazing down the long cobblestone street and looking oddly refreshed after their harrowing ordeal.

  Abby, on the other hand, was still a sweaty mess. She twisted her hair into a loose knot, tucked it under her hat, and reset the hatpins. As soon as she released her grip, several locks slipped free and tumbled about her ears. With a sigh, she tucked the hair behind her ears. “What happened back there? With the baby? What did you do?”

  A smile crossed his face. “One of the professors at med school lectured about early-term births. Most don’t survive, but he said if you rubbed the baby’s chest hard with a towel, clear the throat, and blow air into its mouth . . . well, it got him breathing. It was amazing, wasn’t it?” He shuddered and looked up at the sky. “He never mentioned how terrifying it would be.”

  Abby glanced downward, breathing a sigh of relief. Of course. Robert did it—not God. Robert was the hero. The fact Harriet and Lillian were praying was coincidental. If God cared about what people wanted—what they prayed for—her sister would still be here.

  Or else God just doesn’t listen to me. Didn’t Aunt Mae write the same thing in her journal? A dark cloud pressed around her.

  Robert smiled, his brown eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. “You surprised me back there. For a moment, I thought you were going to walk away. Thank you for your help.”

  “I wanted to walk away. Run, in fact.” Warmth rushed to Abby’s cheeks.

  Robert offered his arm, his eyes crinkling. “You did a wonderful job. You kept her calm and focused.”

  She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “You were amazing. I love watching you work.” As soon as the words dropped from her lips, she felt like crawling under the cobblestones. Stupid girl. You should have stopped while you were ahead.

  Robert laughed, squeezing her wrist. “When I first spoke with Lillian, I nearly panicked. I kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I’m accustomed to having Gerald or one of the hospital doctors to fall back on—for a moment I was afraid I’d forgotten everything I’d learned.”

  Abby cocked her head, considering his confession. “But you looked so calm, as if you’d delivered countless babies.”

  “Actually, it was my first.”

  She gasped and choked back a laugh. “Really?” She glanced down at her hand, resting against Robert’s sleeve, her eyes drawn to the tiny scar on her finger. Remembering Robert’s gentle touch while he worked, a ripple of nerves started at her hairline and prickled down her back.

  Robert pushed his hat to the back on his head. “So, you’ve been on your own since yesterday afternoon? Did you spend the night at the park?”

  “No. I spent the night at a church with a group of Chinese women.”

  His eyebrows shot upwards, nearly disappearing under his hat. “You what?” He stopped in his tracks, looking her full in the face. “Chinese?”

  She paused, taken aback at the dramatic change in his countenance. “Yes. Do you remember the Chinese woman we met at the hospital? And the missionary with the little girl? I encountered them on the street and they invited me to join them. They had evacuated, also. We stayed at a church on Van Ness.”

  “Abby.” Robert furrowed his brow. “You should be more careful.”

  “What? Why?” Her back tensed.

  He cast his eyes downward, a line pinching between his eyes. A long moment passed before he replied. “You’re new to the city, so you wouldn’t understand.” Robert eyes darkened. “I’ve spent time in Chinatown with Gerald. Those people live by their own laws. Chinatown is full of gambling, opium dens, prostitution, and all kinds of horrors.”

  “Those people?” Abby choked on the distasteful words. Was this the same person who just blew breath into a stillborn baby?

  Robert glanced around, lowering his voice before continuing. “People around here don’t like them. And they certainly don’t trust them. People will look down on you if you spend time around the Chinese.”

  Abby released his arm and took a step back. Kum Yong’s vow of friendship still rang in her heart. “Why should I care what people think?”

  “Have you been to Chinatown?” He stepped closer, eyes piercing. “The conditions are atrocious.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I knew I should have stayed with you. What will your parents think?”

  A lump grew in her throat. “I think they would say not to judge a book by its cover. You can’t muddle all people together.” She balled her hands into fists.

  Robert frowned. “These are desperate times. You must be careful. People will be quick to take advantage.” His bushy eyebrows lowered, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “I know you are a country girl, Abby, but you can’t trust everyone.”

  Every muscle in her body bunched together, any ideas of rekindling a romance with this man going up in smoke. She tried to bite her tongue, but by the time the words reached her mouth, all control was lost. She surged forward, meeting Robert toe to toe.

  “I am not some naïve child. You don’t have to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  He took a protective step backward, eyes widening.

  Abby refused his escape, matching him step for step. “Those women seem to know more about God than you ever will. And they were kind enough to take me in—a country girl, as you say. Do they sound like desperate people who can’t be trusted?” She reached out and grabbed his shirt to keep him from moving back. “You will never say those words to me again, you hear? Never.”

  Robert glanced down at the hand clutching his blood-stained shirt. “Abby—” he stopped short, lips parted. The color drained from his face. “I didn’t mean—I—I was just concerned.”

  She shoved hard against his chest as he stepped back. “Don’t bother.”

  Pressing a hand against her hat to settle it on her hair, Abby stomped off, a sudden ache settling in her stomach. Robert had lit a fuse with his words and she needed to escape before he encountered the flying shrapnel of her temper.

  “Abby, wait!” His footfalls pounded the cobblestones, echoing off the wall of houses. “Wait!”

  She quickened her pace, sending her skirt flapping against her ankles and the air searing in her lungs.

  “Don’t go off by yourself. Please.” His fingers caught her sleeve.

  She whirled, her hand colliding with Robert’s wrist and knocking it away. “Don’t touch me.” Didn’t he understand his one touch would break her into a thousand pieces? A gulping sob rent her chest, the street closing in around her—the tall houses looming like hungry vultures.

  He stepped back. “I’m sorry. I won’t.” Robert raised his arms, holding them palms forward.

  She gulped in air, each breath wheezing in her chest.

  “It’s okay.” His voice lowered. “Everything will be fine.”

  The kindness in his eyes sent shivers racing through Abby. She covered her face, striving to maintain command over the crushing flood of emotions.

  “No!” The sob stung her throat. “It’s not! It’s not okay. It will never be okay, don’t you understand?” Abby wrenched the hat from her head, hatpins dragging through her hair. The tresses fell about her face, shielding her from Robert’s eyes.

  Robert stood frozen, his head cocked to one side, as if the odd angle could provide insight into her strange behavior.

  What am I doing? What is wrong with me?

  “I know. You’re right. It’s not okay. It’s horrible. All of this . . . ” Robert gestured to the street, “is terrifying. But, I don’t understand—”

  “I’m not talking about the earthquake.” Abby trembled, the tremors dancing deep into her soul. “She’s gone. She’s never coming back. I’m alone.”

  His mouth opened and closed. “I know.” Robert took a step closer, slowly stretching his hand toward Abby, like one would to a frightened horse.

  She stumbled backward. “Don’t.” If he touches me . . .

  Robert nodded, standing an arm’s length away, hand outstr
etched.

  Abby dropped the hat to the ground and drew her arms up over her face, stepping in a slow circle as if struggling in a whirlpool. She gulped in air to fill her lungs, but it refused to satisfy, the ache in her chest expanding until it consumed her. The edges of her vision blurred and a loud buzzing filled her ears.

  Robert leapt forward, grabbing Abby’s arms as she toppled. He pulled her back against his chest. Her body trembled against him as her muscles slackened, but she didn’t seem to lose consciousness, her sobs cutting through the warm afternoon air. He lowered them both to the ground.

  “Shh.” He guided her head back against his shoulder, the lilac scent of her hair mingling with the smoky air. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking about my words. It was foolish.”

  She shuddered, her fingers digging into the flesh on his arm.

  He pressed his forehead against the back of her head. Her pain tore at his heart.

  “I want her back . . . ” Abby buried her face against his arm and wept. “God took her, I want her back.”

  “I know.” He rubbed her back, ignoring the strange looks cast in their direction from passersby. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. “You’ve already been through so much—”

  “I—I think I’m going to be sick,” she interrupted, panting.

  He chuckled, his speech forgotten. “Go ahead, if it will make you feel better.”

  Abby sobbed, hiccupped, and laughed, all in one breath. “I don’t think so somehow.”

  Robert shifted his weight and pulled her closer, leaning her weight against his chest. “Put your head down low and take some deep breaths.”

  She obliged, folding herself forward and pressing her face down toward her knees, as her breathing slowed. She lifted a wrist and pressed it against her dripping nose.

  Robert pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. Winding his fingers through her lush chestnut hair, he lifted it off the back of her neck, hoping the cool air would ease her nausea. He shivered as the soft strands spilled through his fingertips.

  She turned and stared up at him, her long lashes damp with tears, gold flecks glistening in her brown eyes.

  His medical training dropped away, the beautiful woman in his arms consuming every thought, the wonder of the moment making the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. “Feeling better?”

  She stared over his shoulder and Robert followed her gaze. Rolling clouds of smoke billowed into the gray sky above the tops of the nearby houses.

  Abby shivered and drew in a deep breath. She closed her eyes and lowered her head back to his shoulder. “No. Not just yet.”

  36

  3:00 p.m.

  Even with her eyes closed, life pressed back in, dragging Abby back to reality. Voices, rattles, hooves—the sounds of the city pointed an accusing finger at the odd picture of two people sitting huddled on the ground in the midst of chaos. A rumble rippled through the ground, the earth trembling.

  Abby turned her head so she could gaze up at Robert’s unshaven face, shadows haunting his brown eyes. She had no desire to push out of his secure arms, but he wouldn’t want to sit here forever. Untangling her arms from his, she scooted away and reached for her hat.

  A woman walked by, glancing down at them with a raised eyebrow.

  Robert stood, brushed off his pants, and held out his hand.

  She allowed him to hoist her to her feet, his hand grasping hers a moment longer than necessary. Abby straightened her skirt, discreetly tugging at her corset. Even though she hadn’t tightened it since the earthquake, its edges dug into her ribs, stiff and confining.

  “Ready?” Robert’s voice was gentle, as if speaking to a frightened child.

  Abby nodded, keeping her eyes low. When would she learn some self-control? If he thought she was a naïve country girl before, what must he think now?

  Shuffling along beside Robert, Abby lost count of the blocks as they continued toward Gerald’s neighborhood.

  Every few minutes, Robert glanced her way. “Do you need to rest?”

  She shook her head, trying to imagine Robert’s thoughts. One minute I’m friendly and the next minute I’m shouting at him. To top it off, I practically swoon in his arms. She’d behaved like a character in her sister’s dime novel romances. Except for the shouting part.

  As they crested the hill on Haight, Robert halted, jarring Abby out of her self-critical trance. In the distance, charred buildings stood gaunt against the gray sky, like the bones of a creature left to rot in the desert. “I never dreamed the fires would make it this distance.” He pointed to the east. “Look, so far up Market Street. Unbelievable.”

  Abby lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “What about Gerald’s house? Is it gone, too?”

  He grabbed her hand, picking up the pace. “I hope not.”

  Abby trotted to keep up as they hurried through the cracked streets. Wind picked up ashes and swirled them down the road, skipping across the cobbles like autumn leaves.

  “I can’t believe this.” The gloom of the surroundings colored Robert’s voice. “I knew of the fires, but . . . we were so busy—I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten.”

  After about a mile of walking, Robert paused, giving Abby a chance to catch her breath.

  She plunked down on a pile of fallen blocks, reaching down to run a finger around her sore ankle. A keening cry caught her attention, like the sound of a kitten mewling for its mother. She turned, the faint sound teasing her ears.

  Robert sat beside her, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

  Abby tipped her head to the side, trying to locate the sound. “Do you hear that?”

  He turned, a question in his eyes, but she raised a finger to silence him. A distant explosion echoed. A man shouted encouragement to a sway-backed nag as it hauled an overloaded wagon down the road. Amidst it all, a faint whimpering cry rang out. Robert turned back, examining the wreckage of a nearby building.

  Abby jumped up and hurried toward the mound of bricks and wood. She grasped the closest board and flung it away. She clawed into the heap, pulling out stones and twisted pieces of metal.

  Robert’s long shadow fell across the pile. He strained against a large block. It shifted and slid to the ground, revealing a small dark opening.

  The cries stilled. Robert leaned back on his heels. “Abby . . .”

  “Hush!” she hissed.

  A long moment passed in silence. The other noises from the street faded as Abby crouched over the opening, placing her ear to the hole. “I hear something. It sounds . . .” She frowned. It sounded like the baby she’d held in her arms just a few hours ago. Pulling on a stone block, it sprang free into Abby’s hands and she stumbled, landing hard on her backside.

  Robert stared, transfixed down at the place where the block had rested.

  Abby clambered to her feet and hurried to his side. Dark stains marked the stones. Her stomach lurched.

  Robert crouched down and cleared away the neighboring chunks of brick revealing a hand and arm so coated in dust it looked statuesque. His gaze met Abby’s, his lips drawing back slightly from his teeth. Blowing out a long breath, he touched the wrist before withdrawing, shaking his head.

  A wave of sickness clutched at Abby’s midsection.

  Robert mopped a handkerchief across his forehead. “Are you going to be all right?”

  Abby swallowed hard and nodded, unable to remove her gaze from the unmoving hand. A simple gold band, coated in grime, adorned one of the fingers.

  The bleating cry rose again, louder now, tugging at Abby’s conscience. She reached for another chunk of stone. After moving a few more stones, the sounds increased in intensity and volume.

  Robert hefted a wooden beam, casting it off to the side, uncovering a tiny form cuddled next to the dead body.

  Abby gasped and reached out to touch the tender toes, the infant’s skin cool against her fingers. A yellow blanke
t covered the baby’s face and chest. Abby held her breath as she lifted the edge of the soft fabric.

  Bruised and speckled with dried blood, the tiny face scrunched up against the sudden light, mewling cries coming from a rounded mouth.

  Abby’s hand trembled as she stared down at the crying infant. How could something so small survive under this mess? Her arms ached to pick up the child and cradle it—warm it with her body. But, it looked so weak—what if it died in her arms? She glanced up at Robert. “Should I . . .”

  Robert reached down, his hands scraped and bleeding, and lifted the tiny form from its rocky bed. The baby flung its arms to the sides, sucking in shuddering breaths to fuel its cries. He ran his fingers over the torso and limbs, scrutinizing it with the eyes of a doctor before passing it to Abby.

  Her heart pounded as she grasped the child, pulling it close to her chest. The cries softened.

  Robert picked up the dirty blanket and shook it out before stepping close to Abby and helping her wrap it around the tiny form. “Now we’re even. We’ve both delivered a baby today.” His hand rested on the baby’s head, his eyes warm.

  After a few moments, the baby shoved its tiny fist into its mouth and began chewing on its fingers. Abby lowered her cheek to the soft head. “It’s so cold.” The little one’s chest rose and fell under a filthy gown of eyelet lace, fringed with pink ribbon.

  Davy’s face jumped into her mind. I am so glad I left him safe with Mama. She sighed, remembering how Aunt Mae claimed God was watching over them. Too bad He didn’t watch after this little one’s mother.

  Robert crouched over the dead body, running his hand down the lifeless wrist, his fingers closing around the gold ring.

  Abby’s stomach turned. “What are you doing? You can’t just—”

  “For the baby. She might want it someday. And maybe it will help us identify her.” He twisted it off, examining it before passing it to Abby.