After the incident with Gerald, her time with Dee seemed like it had happened days before. Ruby stretched and rose. She must put the gloves away properly before she could relax. She tucked them into the top drawer of the bureau and retrieved the porcelain-handled shoe hook from its wooden box. “Dee’s struggled for so long. I ache for her.” She made quick work of the buttons, freeing her feet from the stiff boots.
“I remember how I felt when Cecelia took her last turn. I had convinced myself the X-rays would cure her.” Abby closed her book and laid it on the desk.
Ruby rubbed the bottom of her foot, the arches aching from the day’s walk. “Robert’s work must be a constant reminder for you.”
Abby fiddled with the buttons on her sleeve. “It’s important—his calling. He may not have saved my sister, but he may save someone else’s. And I know Cecelia is safe in God’s arms.”
Ruby rubbed a polishing cloth over her boots as Otto padded across the floor to his cushion and plopped down with a sigh.
Abby folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “I spoke with Patrick today.” The change in topic seemed to bring a new confidence to Abby’s voice. “He talked about the incident at the Presidio. He says you were quite brave.”
Ruby’s stomach tightened, the reverend’s kind words pricking at her conscience. “He was the hero. He walked in and took control of the situation in a manner I never expected.”
The younger woman leaned an elbow on the desk and lowered her chin to her palm. “People listen to him. He’s gained much respect among the city’s disenfranchised. I’m certain my cousin was relieved to see him take charge.”
Ruby closed the wardrobe and glanced at her dusty frock in the mirror. An afternoon of wandering the streets had left her tired and mussed. What she needed was a hot bath. “I’m sure Gerald could have handled the incident.”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t view him as the heroic type.”
A burning sensation tickled Ruby’s throat. “He spends days on end working with dying patients—what could be more heroic?”
The young woman blushed. “I meant no disrespect. Kindness and empathy is what originally drew me to your brother as well. But Gerald isn’t one to take risks. He’s careful and pragmatic, not given to rash decisions.”
Ruby kept her gaze lowered. If only she knew.
“Robert received a letter from your mother today. Apparently, only she and one of your sisters will be coming to the wedding.”
Ruby sank down on the bed, bath forgotten. “Which sister?”
“Elizabeth.”
The youngest. Of course. Elizabeth would never miss a wedding. Or a chance to stir up trouble.
“Do you . . .” Abby bit her lower lip. “Do you think they’ll approve of me?”
Ruby sighed. In reality, Abby had more in common with Elizabeth and Mother than Ruby did. “They’ll adore you.” Elizabeth—always determined to right society’s wrongs—would be instantly drawn to Abby’s unconventional sense of style. They’ll be thick as thieves in no time, much to Robert’s dismay. And it would leave Ruby on the outside. As usual. Ruby moved to the dressing table and began removing pins from her pompadour frame. “Have you decided on a gown for the big day?”
Abby frowned. “No. Mama keeps showing me pattern books, but every dress seems so frivolous, considering what we’ve all been through.”
A quiver raced through Ruby. She’d designed Miriam’s dress and two for her sisters. “Let me help. We’ll go downtown tomorrow and look at styles. I saw some lovely ensembles in the new shop windows. Wait until you set eyes on them—it’ll inspire you.” Her imagination sparked with thoughts of ribbons and carved ivory buttons.
Abby’s face paled. “Perhaps . . .”
“It’ll be fun. You’ll see.” Ruby turned back to the looking glass and ran the boar-bristle brush through her hair, the day taking shape in her mind. Sure, she’d sworn off weddings, but dressing the bride could be rewarding. Two women on the town perusing elegant silks and fine Irish lace and maybe enjoying lunch at one of the new hotels—it sounded like an ideal day. Besides, Abby needed her guidance. Ruby’s spirits lifted. Best of all—she’d stay far away from Gerald Larkspur.
* * *
Gerald sat up in bed, a faint glimmer of a moonlight shining through the crack in the curtains. What had disturbed him? A jangling ring broke the stillness, and the dog barked in response. Gerald jumped up and lurched out into the hallway in his pajamas, the floor icy against his bare feet.
Ruby stood outside his door, her white wrapper whispering around her ankles. “Was that the telephone?” The bell jangled again.
He hurried past, the little dog following at his heels. Tromping down the dark stairs, he swept the receiver off the switch hook before it woke anyone else. Gerald sank into the chair and pulled the candlestick telephone close. “Dr. Larkspur speaking, how can I be of assistance?” The words rasped in his throat.
“Gerald, it’s Robert.”
Gerald rubbed a hand across his eyes, the earpiece cool against his palm. “What time is it? Are you still at the hospital?” He squinted at the clock on the mantle, but the room was too dark.
“Dee Feinstein’s heart is weakening. I don’t think she’s going to last until morning.”
Gerald slumped back in the seat, lowering his arm until the receiver bumped his chest. Not again.
His partner’s tinny voice wafted upward from the cone-shaped device. “She’s asking for you.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Gerald returned the telephone to the desk, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He jumped as Ruby’s warm fingers touched his arm.
She clutched her dressing gown about the neck with one hand. “Is it Dee?”
He managed a nod. “I need to go.”
“Would you like me to come?”
Gerald closed his fingers over hers, her touch undoing him. The momentary sweetness of the afternoon kiss rushed back. If only. He ached to pull her close and bury his face in her hair. He pushed up to his feet. “No. Get some sleep. There’s nothing more you can do.”
20
Gerald finished securing the new tire before standing and brushing dirt from his trouser leg. He resisted the temptation to chuck the shredded one into the gutter and instead dropped the strips of black rubber onto the floorboards beneath the rear seat. Flat tires always occurred at the times of greatest inconvenience. He rubbed his hands together, freeing the last bits of grit and gravel from his palms and rolling his shirtsleeves back in place.
Climbing behind the wheel, he glanced around the dark, empty street. In an hour or two, milk wagons and delivery trucks would be making the rounds, but for now the neighborhood remained deserted. He revved the engine, eliciting a popping cough from the motor before it wheezed and lunged forward. The vehicle’s symptoms persisted. If it were a patient, he’d suspect pertussis. Gerald ran a hand across his dry eyes. Perhaps the contraption needed oil. Did petroleum work like cough syrup for an engine?
There was a good reason he worked with the human body rather than machines—he preferred a patient who could tell him what hurt. The same problem kept him far away from the inner workings of the X-ray apparatus.
Gerald drove six more blocks and parked across the street from Lane Hospital, the building still in the renovation process. He shut off the engine, ignoring the faint hiss coming from under the hood, as if the motor sighed in relief. You may rest, but you’d better still be working when I’m ready to leave.
He glanced both directions before loping across the cobblestones and charging up the marble steps two at a time. He pulled open the double doors, the familiar hospital scent washing over him. Gerald nodded to the duty nurse as he hurried toward the ward without bothering to stop at his office.
Robert entered the hall, his white coat wrinkled. “There you are. What took you so long?”
Gerald yanked off his hat. “Don’t ask. What’s her condition?”
“A little
better than when I called. Her fever seems to be abating, but her pulse is weakening. Respiration is labored, so I administered epinephrine. It seemed to help.”
“If the fever’s fallen, there might still be a chance.”
Robert pinned him with a dark stare. “I know what you would say if our positions were reversed.”
“Let’s just see her through the night.” Gerald set his jaw. He wasn’t ready to let this patient slip away without a fight. Even if it were a battle he couldn’t win.
Robert pulled a watch from his coat pocket. “It’s morning. But I’ll let you assess the situation.”
Gerald opened the door, scanning the ward. Most of the patients slept, gentle sighs and snores filling the shadow-filled room. He followed the sound of ragged breathing to Dee’s bed, close to the window. A gossamer curtain separated the room from the dark night, not unlike the fine threads tying his patient to the world.
She turned toward him, the bedside lamp reflecting off her dilated pupils. “You made it, Doc.”
He laid his fingers over hers. “I could say the same of you, Miss Feinstein . . . Dee. When Dr. King telephoned, I was afraid you wouldn’t wait for me.”
The corners of her mouth tightened in an almost imperceptible smile. “Was feeling a bit low. Thought the Lord was ready for me.”
“And now?” The tension in Gerald’s chest eased a stitch. His patients often had an accurate sense of when the fight was over.
She glanced down at her arm, to where Gerald’s hand rested. “Dr. King gave me a shot of something . . . helped a bit.” Her words, like dripping molasses, could not be rushed between the tortured inhalations.
Gerald hovered beside the bed, content to let Dee take her time. It was hers to spend.
She gazed up at him. “I’m inclined. Today or tomorrow.”
He lifted her hand and squeezed her fingers—the bluish cast of the woman’s nail beds drawing his eye. Cyanotic. He pushed his gaze back to her face. If only he didn’t know the truth. The tumors in her lungs no longer allowed oxygen to flow through her bloodstream in sufficient amounts. Robert’s injection could only provide temporary relief. And time. Like everything else we’ve done. “It’s in God’s hands.”
“Safe . . . in His hands.” Her fingers curled around his. “So why so scared?”
“Are you?” He searched her glassy eyes.
Dee struggled, finally pushing out a single word. “You.”
Gerald’s throat tightened. “Me? I’m not the one in the bed.”
Dee appeared smaller than when she’d first arrived, her dark eyes taking up a larger proportion of her face. She focused on Gerald, as if daring him to argue with a dying woman. “You . . .” she coughed, blinking twice before fixing her stare once more, “. . . might as well be.” Her pale lips hung open. “You’re afraid to live.”
He shifted his weight between his feet. “My job is to help others live.”
“Bah.” Dee closed her eyes.
“I should let you rest.”
Dee’s vice-grip tightened. “Love her.” Her lids fluttered open, gaze unfocused.
Ruby. Gerald’s chest squeezed as if Dee’s fingers clamped about his heart. He glanced over one shoulder, but his partner had left the ward. He turned back to his patient and bent close. “I tried, Dee. She doesn’t love me.” He set his jaw. “And why should she?”
Dee wheezed sharply, the air whistling in her chest.
Gerald slid both arms behind her back, lifting her to a sitting position until she could manage a deep breath. When it ended in a gasping laugh, he frowned. Had she slipped into a delirium?
Dee’s fingers grasped his neck, drawing him close until he could hear her whispered words. “She loves you. A woman knows her . . . competition.” Dee’s chuckle melted into a coughing spasm, jerking against Gerald’s arm. “But she’s been a dear friend.” Her eyes fell closed as her body relaxed.
Gerald remained motionless until he heard Dee’s respiration continue. He lowered her onto the pillows, bunching them so they propped her at a more comfortable angle. Gerald stared down at his patient—his friend—for a moment before collapsing into the bedside chair. He pressed both hands against his eyes and tried to pray. The words wouldn’t come.
* * *
Ruby and Abby sat in silence as the cable car bumped down the line. Ruby chewed her lip. If she hopped off at the next intersection, it would be five short blocks to the hospital. She could be at Dee’s side in a matter of minutes.
Why had Gerald told her to stay away? Dee was her friend as well.
Ruby stayed in her seat. Abby needed her help, too. Abby and Robert would make a fine picture—if someone took the girl in hand and made it happen. Ruby’s gaze lingered over Abby’s simple brown walking skirt and peach jacket. Such an elegant figure deserved a sophisticated wedding gown. At least the task at hand would serve as a distraction. “Have you thought any more about what you’d like?”
Abby tore her gaze from the street scene, lines bunching on her forehead. “I’ve thought a little about what I don’t want.”
Ruby frowned. At least it’s something. “What would that be?”
The cable car slowed to a stop and the women descended the narrow steps. As it rattled away, Abby turned to answer. “I don’t want ruffles. Or bows. Or any other frivolity.”
Ruby paused midstep. “It’s a wedding. Frivolity is expected.”
The young woman’s shoulders straightened. “I’m marrying your brother because I love him. Not to be dressed up like a china doll in a fancy frock and have everyone gape at me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having both. Is there?”
“No. Yes. Let’s just go.” Abby huffed, hurrying down the sidewalk in the direction of the dress shops.
Ruby’s throat tightened. “No, wait.” She reached for Abby’s arm, slowing her to a stop. “I want to understand.”
Abby stared at the ground. People pushed past along the sidewalk, as if the world rushed in circles about them.
Ruby forced herself to wait while Abby gathered her words. In some ways, Robert’s fiancée reminded her of Miriam—slow to speak, but every word worth gold.
After a long moment, Abby’s eyes filled with tears. “My sister loved fashion. She dreamed of designing her own wedding trousseau.”
“Cecelia?”
Abby nodded and dug in her bag. “Why do I never have a handkerchief?”
Ruby drew one from its hiding place in her sleeve and held it out. “Don’t you think Cecelia would want you to look beautiful on your wedding day?”
The young woman’s chin trembled as she accepted the silk square and dabbed at her massive doe eyes. “She’d insist upon it. But I never dreamed I’d be marrying instead of her. Or without her. Did you know it’s been almost a year since she passed away? Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Ruby’s heart softened. She stepped close and wrapped an arm around Abby’s waist. “I don’t mean to take her place. I know what it is to miss someone you love.”
Abby’s face crumpled. “Of course you do. I’m being selfish and silly. This must be bringing up all sorts of memories for you, too.”
Ruby glanced at her shoe tips. Was it odd how seldom she’d thought of Charlie today? “It does, a little.” She squeezed Abby’s arm. “But I’d hoped our outing could be fun. A way for us to connect as . . .” Ruby paused—she’d intended to say ‘as sisters,’ but the word choice seemed callous in Abby’s present state of mind. “As friends.”
“I’d like that.” Abby wiped her eyes a second time. “And I apologize for my outburst. I’ve just been tied up in knots about all of this and didn’t have anyone to confide in.”
Ruby tugged on Abby’s wrist, moving in the direction of the shops. “I hope you will consider me your new confidante. Besides, Robert has ceased telling me anything. He shares all his concerns with your cousin these days. He doesn’t need his older sister’s advice.”
Abby hurried to keep pace. “He and
Gerald are close. I suppose it’s to be expected with the hours they spend together at the hospital.” She gave Ruby a sideways glance. “I’d rather thought you were growing fond of Gerald, as well.”
Ruby pushed down the flutters in her stomach. “He’s been kind to take me in. But there’s nothing of the sort you’re implying.” She stopped in front of the new storefront she’d spotted yesterday.
“Too bad. I’d hoped he might persuade you to stay.”
The plate glass window shimmered in the morning sun, the white dresses catching the light. “Stay?”
Abby frowned at the sign announcing, “Earthquake brides welcomed here.” She turned her eyes to the lace-bedecked bodices and skirts. “Robert feared you might return to Sacramento with your mother after the wedding.”
A surge of heat climbed Ruby’s spine. Were those her choices? Enter some arrangement with Gerald or go home to Sacramento? “He’s mistaken. I intend to continue here. Though I’ll need to make different living arrangements.” She pushed open the door and stepped into the quiet shop, intent on leaving all talk of Gerald Larkspur outside on the street. “Look at this white crepe. Isn’t it divine?”
Abby glanced around the room, her gaze skipping from one dress to another without pause. “Hmm.” She faced Ruby. “Then, I have a proposal for you.” Her eyes narrowed.
Ruby pursed her lips. Was Abby planning to take Ruby in after the wedding? Like a stray mutt? “The only proposal we should focus on now is which style you will wear on your wedding day.”
Abby turned back to the dresses and sighed as a store clerk hurried over. “I will agree to try on any and all gowns you suggest—under one condition.”
Ruby raised a brow. “Which is?”
The young woman crossed her arms, a smile brightening her freckled cheeks. “I choose where we take our noon meal. And with whom.”
21
Ruby hobbled out of Taylor’s Finery, her feet in utter revolt after the long morning of shopping. After three hours and five shops, she’d not succeeded in convincing her soon-to-be sister to choose a dress pattern, much less fabric or notions. She pressed a gloved hand to her grumbling stomach. “I suppose we could try the shop the seamstress recommended—the new one on Market Street.”
Beyond the Ashes Page 14
