Beyond the Ashes

by Karen Barnett

  Gerald turned to the young widow and tipped his hat. “Mrs. Marshall, have you had the pleasure of riding one of San Francisco’s famous cable cars?”

  Her countenance brightened, her lips parting. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Perfect. The cable line is running again, as of a few days ago.” Gerald turned to Robert. “You and Abby take my car over to the hospital and meet with Mrs. Meier. I’ll escort Mrs. Marshall to the house and help her get settled into Abby’s room.”

  Robert huffed. “The cable car would take—”

  “Robert,” Mrs. Marshall grasped his sleeve, “I would prefer to take the cable car if it isn’t an inconvenience for Dr. Larkspur.”

  Gerald’s chest swelled. He’d called that one exactly right. Maybe there was hope for him, yet.

  Robert pulled off his derby and scratched his head. “Well, if you’re certain.”

  She smiled, looking from her brother to Gerald and back, cheeks pink. “I am. I don’t want your work to suffer during my visit.”

  Gerald presented his arm to Mrs. Marshall, rewarded by a smile and the touch of her hand.

  Robert raked fingers through his dark hair. With a shrug, he assisted Abby up into a seat. “I’ll retrieve your trunk and bring it to the house when we’re done at the hospital.”

  Perhaps Robert’s ability to understand the female species didn’t apply to his own sister. Gerald studied the graceful curve of Mrs. Marshall’s fingers resting against his coat sleeve. And perhaps having one more woman under his roof wouldn’t be such a bother after all. It might be entertaining to watch her keep Robert on his toes.

  * * *

  Ruby gripped Dr. Larkspur’s arm as they strode down the sidewalk. She hoped she hadn’t given the man the wrong impression. She stopped in her tracks. “Robert and Abby took my luggage.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  “Otto’s still in his basket. He doesn’t much like Robert.”

  The man chuckled. “How dangerous could the dog be if it’s small enough to fit in a picnic basket?” He paused, his voice lowering. “I assume you don’t approve of automobiles?”

  Ruby bit her lip. Did this man miss nothing? “Actually, I’ve never ridden in one. And I don’t want to. Not now. Not ever.” First, she falls apart on the ferry dock, and then she runs from the vehicle like a frightened child—what must he think of her? Ruby tugged at her lace collar. “Of course, I could if I wanted to. I’m not afraid of them.” She cast a quick glance at his face.

  The corner of his mouth curved upward. “If you say so.”

  “I’m not.” A wave of heat crept up her back.

  “Of course.”

  She cleared her throat. “Or rather, I wouldn’t be, if I could be in the driver’s seat.”

  Dr. Larkspur stopped, his brows nearly disappearing under the brim of his hat. “You can’t be serious. You want to drive my automobile?”

  “Not yours in particular.” The intense blue of his eyes sent a tingle across her skin. “I’m sure it sounds outlandish. I just thought if I were driving, it might not be so fearsome.” Ruby thrust her shoulders back. “Things we can’t control are frightening. Things that control us are truly terrifying. But things we control are—” she lifted her hands, palms up, “­—well, if you shrink from them, I suppose you don’t have much faith in yourself.”

  Dr. Larkspur rubbed a hand across his chin. “I suppose there’s truth to what you say. And yet, I think you might be missing a part of the puzzle.”

  “What?”

  “We’re never really in control.”

  She laughed, the sound bubbling from deep in her chest. “Are you a philosopher?”

  He smiled. “Hardly. But I am an observer of life. One who just rode out a major earthquake.” Dr. Larkspur rubbed a finger across his chin while he spoke.

  An endearing gesture. She remembered the feel of Charlie’s face—the bristly stubble when he rose in the morning, the freshly shaven silkiness of his cheek against hers when he kissed her goodbye. She pulled her gaze away and blinked rapidly.

  “In my field, I’ve learned there are few events over which we have power. People become ill. They attempt to regain some authority over their bodies by coming to me. I do what I can,” he cast his eyes downward, “but too often it’s out of my hands. I can do everything right and still lose the patient.” Dr. Larkspur pressed his lips into a thin line. “You can’t always be the one in charge, Mrs. Marshall.”

  Her throat tightened as she studied the man’s drawn expression. He must have a grief story of his own.

  A shadow passed over his face as he shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes you have to trust someone else to drive the car.”

  4

  The mahogany-paneled dining room echoed with the sounds of voices and the clatter of silverware. Gerald leaned back in his chair and gazed around the table. Five years ago, when he’d bought this house, he’d hoped to fill it with family. He’d dreamed of an adoring wife and a collection of bright-eyed children. Instead he got his mother, his cousin and her family, his best friend, and his friend’s widowed sister. Even so, warmth crept into his chest as he enjoyed the presence of the people he loved. The beautiful guest added an extra sweetness to the blend.

  His mother lowered a chicken-laden platter to the tablecloth. Gerald took a deep whiff as fragrant steam rose from the serving dishes, the scents of roasting meat mingling with rosemary and cornbread. His stomach grumbled in response.

  Gerald’s cousin, Clara Fischer, added a dish of creamed peas before taking her place next to her husband, Herman. She smiled as her daughter Abby helped four-year-old Davy draw his seat up to the table.

  A German accent colored Herman’s words. “Clara, Aunt Mae—everything smells wonderful.”

  Clara smiled as she touched her husband’s shoulder, the evening light glinting off her blonde hair.

  Gerald pulled his gaze away. Every time he noticed Clara’s resemblance to Cecelia—her daughter, Abby’s older sister—a new thorn embedded in his heart. The family had come to San Francisco last year seeking treatment for Cecelia’s leukemia. She’d improved under his and Robert’s care, but the cancer had been far too advanced. She passed away a few months before the big quake.

  Losing a patient was always difficult—losing a member of his own family left a scar on his soul.

  Robert cleared his throat. “Yes, you’ve outdone yourselves. Dinner looks delicious.”

  At least one good thing came out of our tragedy. Robert and Abby. What a perfect combination.

  “Gerald, would you ask the blessing for our meal?” His mother sat in a chair at the corner of the table, between him and Abby, and reached for their hands.

  Gerald nodded, clasping her palm and extending his other hand to Mrs. Marshall.

  Her crystal blue eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away as his fingers settled over hers.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” He squeezed her small hand. “It’s a family tradition.”

  “Of course.” Her fingers were icy cold.

  Gerald nodded and bowed his head, forcing his eyes closed, trying to direct his mind away from the gentle touch of her skin against his own. “Father, we thank You for this glorious day and for Your many blessings, especially another guest at our table. Lord, bless this food and the loving hands which prepared it. Amen.”

  Ruby tugged her hand free, a flush brightening her cheeks all the way to the tip of her nose.

  His mother’s silvery brows drew low over her eyes. “Gerald, what’s this on your palm?”

  His throat tightened as he pulled away from her grip. “It’s nothing, Mother, just a burn from the machinery.”

  She frowned, lines deepening around her mouth. “Another? Or the same burn you had last month? Hasn’t it healed?”

  Gerald pulled his arms under the table. The glow of being head of a large household fizzled under the scrutiny of an overanxious mother. Suddenly, he felt about eight years old. “I’m the doctor here, remember?”

/>   “And sometimes doctors are so busy caring for others, they neglect themselves.” She reached for the platter of chicken and passed it to him.

  Robert placed a spoonful of vegetables on his plate. “Do you want me to look at it, Gerald?”

  “It’s nothing.” He lifted the platter from his mother’s grip, grasping the dish from underneath to obscure his palm from her inquisitive gaze.

  Clara placed a piece of buttered cornbread on her young son’s plate, smiling as little Davy licked his lips. “Ruby, it was brave of you to travel all the way to San Francisco by yourself at such a time. Was your mother concerned for your safety?”

  The young woman took a sip from her water glass. “She was concerned, but I assured her Robert would be here to greet me.”

  Abby, sitting on the child’s far side, placed a napkin on Davy’s lap. “We’re glad you decided to come. Robert’s spoken so lovingly of his sisters.”

  Ruby glanced at her brother with a smile. “We’ve missed him very much. Even though he wrote us after the disaster, it was a relief to actually set eyes on him. His letters had been a bit vague.” Her eyes darted toward Abby.

  Herman ran a hand over his whiskers. “Your Robert has been a wonderful help to our family. First, with Cecelia,” his voice faltered, “and then with meine Abigail during the earthquake. He has earned a place of honor in this family. Even if Abby hadn’t accepted his proposal.”

  Abby smiled and ducked her head, freckled cheeks glowing.

  Clara reached over and squeezed Robert’s arm before turning to Ruby. “I know your family has missed him, but Herman and I already think of him as our son.”

  Gerald swiped a second helping of mashed potatoes, wincing as the serving spoon brushed against his sore hand. He gripped the silver handle with his fingertips, guiding the steaming food to his plate. How long had it been since he’d seared himself with the X-ray machine? Two months? Three? His mother was right—it should have healed long before now. The sound of laughter echoed off the walls, scattering Gerald’s thoughts. He frowned, attempting to concentrate on Robert’s story. His friend held the table enthralled.

  “She insisted the X-rays had improved her skin. She sidled right up to me. ‘Dr. King, don’t you think I look beautiful?’” Robert shook his head. “I thought you were exaggerating, Gerald. But every time I see her, she flutters her eyelashes a little more. She’s starting to make me nervous.”

  Mrs. Pembroke. Of course. “I’ve been telling you for months, Robert. She’s clearly sweet on you.” Gerald leaned toward his cousin. “You should keep a close eye on this one, Abby. She might steal him from you.”

  Abby’s laugh made his heart swell. Her sister’s death had taken a toll. It’s good to see Abby smile again.

  Ruby’s nose wrinkled. “Robert, have you informed this woman you are engaged to be married?”

  Gerald finished chewing, the buttered cornbread practically melting in his mouth. “I don’t think she cares.”

  “Perhaps you should insist she see Dr. Larkspur, instead.”

  Gerald snorted. “Oh, no you don’t. I was more than happy to turn her attentions over to Robert. I’ve dealt with her for five years now. I think it’s his turn.”

  Ruby’s intense stare caught him off guard. Gerald swiped the napkin across his chin in case he’d somehow smeared crumbs on his face.

  “But if she’s your patient, why don’t you speak to her about this inappropriate behavior?”

  “She’s not my patient anymore. She requested Robert.” Gerald nodded toward her brother.

  “What exactly am I supposed to say?” Robert smirked, leaning back in his chair.

  Ruby tucked a loose curl into place, sending an onyx earbob swinging. “You could politely inform her you’re not interested in her advances. It would be the most respectful way to handle the lady’s feelings. It is discourteous to allow this young woman to continue and for you two to make sport of it behind her back.”

  Gerald fought to keep the smile from his face. He pointed an authoritative finger toward his partner. “You heard your sister, Robert. You’d best inform the ‘young lady’ her amorous attentions are unseemly.”

  Ruby’s glance darted between the two men. “I recognize Robert’s mischievous expression. What am I missing here?”

  Gerald’s mother huffed, setting her fork on her plate. “You boys are insufferable.” She leaned toward Ruby. “Mrs. Pembroke is ninety, if she’s a day. Honestly. One would think you’d have a little more respect for your patients. And your elders.”

  “Mother, if you could see the way she behaves, you would understand.”

  His mother touched her silver hair and frowned. “Ruby is correct in accusing you of being disrespectful.”

  Gerald sobered. “You’re right, of course.” He glared at his friend. “You will show Mrs. Pembroke the ultimate respect, Robert. Even when she’s trying to steal a kiss in the exam room.”

  Ruby gasped. “She didn’t. Now you’re just being ridiculous!”

  He reached for the water glass. “Nope. It’s the God’s-honest truth. Isn’t it Robert?”

  Robert rubbed a hand through his hair. “Yes, well, sort of.”

  She twisted in her seat to stare at her brother. “But, why would she?”

  He took another forkful of mashed potatoes and shrugged his shoulders. “Overwhelmed by my staggering good looks?”

  The room dissolved into laughter. Even Ruby smiled, rolling her eyes at her brother’s attempt at humor.

  Robert swallowed. “No, I think it was just a thank-you kiss—a peck on the cheek. I’d finally agreed to give her more of the liver medicine she swears by.” He pushed the food around his plate. “Of course, the stuff is primarily alcohol with a hint of opium. I hate giving it to her.”

  Abby added an extra spoonful of applesauce onto her little brother’s plate. “So why do you?”

  “Would you want to tell a ninety-year-old woman the medicine she’s been taking for forty-odd years is nothing but spirits? She believes it’s why she’s lived so long.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Maybe she’s right.” He smiled at Abby. “And it makes her happy.”

  Gerald snorted. “Really, really happy.”

  “Besides,” Robert continued. “It’s nice to have one content and relatively healthy patient—even if she is overly affectionate.”

  Gerald offered the dish of creamed peas to Ruby. “Focusing on research was your idea, Robert. I was satisfied treating fevers and broken bones. You couldn’t resist the glory of X-rays.”

  Ruby passed the dish on to her brother. “So, you two are primarily treating cancer patients now?”

  Robert nodded. “We still have a few of Gerald’s older patients, but we are trying to concentrate our efforts on research. And we’re making good progress, too. But it’s a long process.” He glanced about the table as his voice quieted. “We’ve lost several patients.”

  Abby lowered her gaze to her plate.

  Clara jumped to her feet and began clearing dishes. “I hope everyone saved room. I baked lemon pie for dessert.”

  As his mother and Abby rose to join her, Ruby slid her chair back.

  Gerald’s mother waved her away. “Sit still and enjoy your visit. Who would like coffee?”

  Gerald sighed, pushing away from the table. “I would love some, but I’m afraid I must head to the hospital.”

  His mother set a dish down with a clatter. “Gerald, no! At this hour?”

  “Healing doesn’t wait, Mother.” He dropped his napkin beside his plate.

  “I thought when you and Robert decided to focus on research, you would keep more regular hours.”

  “Someone forgot to inform our patients. One of us needs to check on Mr. Michaels, and I assumed Robert would be helping his sister get settled.”

  Clara reentered the room with a meringue-topped pie balanced in one hand, a pie server in the other.

  Gerald gripped the back of his chair. “I sure hate to miss dessert.” He raised
a brow at his cousin. “Perhaps you could save me a slice?”

  Clara smiled as she slipped a large serving of pie onto her husband’s plate. “Well, aren’t you fortunate? I baked two.”

  Gerald squeezed Clara’s shoulder as he walked past. “I knew I was making the right decision when I invited your family to stay.”

  Herman frowned, removing a pipe from his pocket and clamping it between his jaws. “It’s only until we find our own place. Don’t you be worrying about it.”

  “Who’s worried? When has a bachelor like me ever been this well fed? With Mother and Clara competing to see who can make the finest desserts, I’ve put on almost five pounds. I’m going to need a new belt soon.” Gerald tugged on his waistband.

  His mother entered the dining room with the coffeepot. “Sheer nonsense.” Her gray eyes sparked. “We aren’t competing.”

  “Of course not!” Clara echoed. “How can you say such a thing?”

  Gerald chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

  Ruby smiled as Clara handed her a dish with a sliver of pie. “This looks delicious, thank you, Mrs. Fischer.”

  Clara set the pie plate in the center of the table. “Please, Ruby, we’re going to be family, you must call us by our given names.”

  Gerald rubbed the back of his neck, remembering the patient waiting at the hospital. He forced himself out of the pleasant room, voices trailing after him into the hall.

  Was there anything better than a home overflowing with family?

  He glanced down at his hand, closing his fist over the open sore on his palm. Now, if only God would see about providing the adoring wife to go with it.

  * * *

  Ruby opened her eyes to the morning sun already pouring through the bedroom windows. She rolled to her back, glancing across at the other bed. It lay empty and already made up for the day. Ruby leaned back against the pillows, fighting the urge to pull the covers over her head.

  She threw an arm across her eyes as her thoughts galloped off. She had obviously misjudged the situation here in San Francisco. Robert seemed happy and content. He had a new family. He didn’t need her. Did I come here for him or for myself?