Beyond the Ashes

by Karen Barnett

  Mae smiled. “Where do you think?” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the backyard.

  “Well, since I can’t see the gown, I suppose I’ll go see the bride-to-be.” Robert grinned and headed for the door.

  Ruby fit her shears back into the sewing basket, nestling the pincushion among the scraps of leftover silk. Try as she might, she couldn’t prevent her gaze from returning to Gerald. It seemed her stubborn heart was determined to move forward, whether or not she felt ready.

  He leaned on one of the end chairs. “I don’t imagine I should follow him, somehow.”

  “A wise choice, dear. Young couples need their space.” Mae handed Ruby the lace bundle, her gaze jumping from Ruby’s face to her son’s. “In fact, I think it’s high time I go as well. I must start dinner.”

  Warmth rushed to Ruby’s cheeks. “Would you like any help?”

  “No, no, dear. You have your hands full.” She grinned at her son as she hurried past, her skirt rustling through the narrow doorway.

  Gerald ran a hand over the back of his neck as the room fell silent. “Was it just me, or did that sound a little pointed?”

  Ruby’s hands trembled as she gathered the lace into her basket. “Perhaps.” Now she’d decided to face her fears, she found herself at a loss. How did one express her desires to a man? She’d never faced this with Charlie. He’d just always been there, waiting. She glanced up from her sewing supplies, stunned to see Gerald’s penetrating gaze upon her. Her mind raced, but her mouth refused to speak.

  “I think I’ll take a short walk before supper.” He withdrew a step, his eyes questioning.

  Otto stood and shook himself, hurrying over to Gerald’s feet.

  Ruby struggled to swallow, blocked by a lump in her throat. “I . . .” Say it—“I’d like to join you.” Her knees quivered. As much as they were shaking, she wouldn’t make it around the block. He’d be forced to carry her home. Her palms grew damp. “I’d better get started on this.” She hoisted the basket to her hip. “Would you mind taking Otto with you?”

  He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

  The dog whined, looking up at Ruby with brown eyes. After a long moment, he turned and scampered after Gerald.

  Ruby closed her eyes. She’d conquered her fear of automobiles by getting behind the wheel. Maybe she needed a few lessons in love. She’d corner Abby this evening.

  * * *

  Gerald rubbed two fingers against his rough chin. He’d thought for a moment . . . No, don’t be ridiculous. Her attention centered on her sewing project—not on him. He buttoned his jacket and headed down the hall to retrieve his hat. A change of scenery would help him mull over Robert’s concerns.

  The dog’s toenails scrabbled against the wood floor as it followed at Gerald’s heels.

  Gerald retrieved his derby and slipped the lead around the dog’s stocky neck, pausing to rub its soft ears before heading out the front door. He usually preferred to exit through the back and walk down the alley, but with Robert and Abby making moon-eyes at each other, he wasn’t sure he could stand the envy eating at his insides.

  He closed the gate and paced down the street, turning toward town. He’d honor the request not to go to the hospital today, but he hadn’t agreed to stay at home either. Cold fingers wrapped around his heart. Since when did he feel uncomfortable in his own house?

  He ran a hand across his vest front, twiddling the silver buttons between his finger and thumb. The discussion with Robert continued to bounce around in his thoughts. Every reason his friend had flung at him was valid. Gerald had no business pursuing Ruby. What had he told Robert all those months ago about love and professional decorum? He’d been such a pillar of wisdom before a certain redhead walked into his life. Now he was ready to cast every bit of his worldly knowledge to the wind. If God wanted him to be with Ruby, He’d clear the way. And if He didn’t . . .

  The dachshund tugged at the leash and whined. Gerald shook himself and picked up the pace. He wasn’t prepared to entertain such an outcome. He turned on O’Farrell Street and headed downtown. The pounding of hammers rang through the air, like a relentless army of woodpeckers. He paused before the skeleton of a new office building and watched as a group of men unloaded a wagon filled with bricks. It never failed to astonish him how fast builders were assembling these structures. Just a few months ago, this part of the city had been a smoldering ruin.

  “Quite a sight, isn’t it?” A familiar voice drew Gerald’s attention. Patrick Allison strode up the street toward him. “Dr. Larkspur, right?” The man shoved back a brown derby and grinned, light dancing in his green eyes.

  Otto strained against the lead, craning his neck to sniff the newcomer.

  “Yes.” Gerald shook the reverend’s hand. “And you’re Reverend Allison, Abby’s friend from the camps.”

  “Patrick—call me Patrick, please. I apologize for not introducing myself back at the Presidio, but it seemed more important to focus on calming Johnson and getting him out of your way.”

  Gerald tugged Otto back. “Yes, I appreciated your help with the situation.”

  Patrick glanced over the building site. “I came to check on some of my neighbors. The boss here has been hiring men as fast as I can send them down.”

  “It’s good news. Maybe if we get them all working, the camps will empty out.”

  Patrick tipped his head back, gazing up at the ten-story structure, new windows glinting in the late afternoon sun. “As long as there’s a place to go. Housing’s as much of a problem as the jobs.”

  Gerald ran a hand along the lapel of his coat. “I’m disturbed about sanitation issues in those camps. We could end up with a major disease outbreak if people remain in such squalor.”

  The reverend shrugged, the shoulders of his brown jacket bouncing. “It’s better conditions than many parts of the world. Or even some of the bigger cities. And the military is cracking down on cleanliness—at least in the camps they maintain. But if you have any suggestions for improvements, I’d be willing to help.”

  “I’m most concerned about Golden Gate Park and some of the smaller sites.”

  The clergyman folded his arms. “Red Cross is doing what they can, but I’m certain your expertise would be welcome. I could meet you over at Golden Gate on Monday if you’d like to look around. I have a few folks who would appreciate a medical visit, if you could spare the time.”

  Gerald contemplated the workload at the hospital. “I could come in the afternoon. Say two o’clock?”

  A grin sprouted on the man’s face, and he took a step closer. “Thank you.” He grasped Gerald’s hand and shook it with strength more akin to a bricklayer than a man of the cloth.

  Gerald winced and tucked his hand into his pocket, fighting an urge to glance at his palm. Checking the status of the lesion had become an obsession.

  Patrick clapped Gerald on the arm. “And will you be bringing your lovely nurse? Did she tell you about our visit to the Cliff House? I’ve never had as mesmerizing a dining companion.”

  “Mrs. Marshall? You dined with Ruby?” Gerald’s chest tightened.

  “Your cousin, Miss Fischer, invited me. I didn’t think she’d agree to see me alone.” He leaned his head toward Gerald and hitched his brow up a quarter inch. “But I’ve got young Abby putting in a kind word for me.”

  A rock wedged in Gerald’s gut. He jerked back a step, overwhelmed by the urge to put some distance between this man and himself. “Mrs. Marshall is terribly busy.” His voice lowered to a near growl on the last two words. “I don’t believe she has much interest in social calls.”

  Patrick’s smile didn’t waver. “Doesn’t hurt to ask, though. I’m certain she has plenty of demands on her time. I couldn’t resist putting my bid in, if you know what I’m saying.”

  All too well. “I should return home.”

  Patrick glanced at the group of men cleaning up the worksite for the evening. “It must be nearly supper time.”

  This
is your cue. Run. Gerald balled his fist, hidden in his pocket. He took two steps, and the dog jumped to its feet, tail wagging. “Reverend,” Gerald swallowed, pushing down the internal argument raging in his gut, “why don’t you come eat with us? We’ve got a houseful, but my mother always makes a copious amount of food.”

  “It wouldn’t be proper to drop in unexpected on the ladies. But thanks for the offer. And please, call me Patrick.”

  A weight lifted from Gerald’s shoulders. At least he’d done the right thing. “If you’re certain.”

  “I don’t wish to be any trouble. I’ll just head back to the camp and see what I’ve got in the cabin.”

  Gerald’s mouth dried. “You’re staying in one of those shacks? Doesn’t the church provide you with housing?”

  Otto plopped back to the ground with a huff.

  Patrick hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “There were two ministers at our church before the fires. It took quite a load of dynamite to bring the old building down. The firefighters told us it was necessary to protect the big homes on Van Ness.” He tipped back his derby, his jaw twitching. “The elders—the same men who own those homes—they informed me they’d be keeping the senior pastor, only.”

  Gerald searched the man’s face. My house was spared. Two blocks from Van Ness.

  Patrick cleared his throat, glancing at the men removing the last of the bricks from the wagon. “I’ve got my own flock now. Ones who need more than a fancy building.” His brows drew down, casting deep shadows around his eyes. “I decided it would be best to live amongst the people I serve.”

  A cool breeze swept down the cobblestone street, a crumpled newspaper bouncing along with the dead leaves. Gerald sighed. “You must come to dinner. Abby would never forgive me if I let you return to the camp without a decent meal.”

  “I eat fine, Doc. Half the time, those Red Cross ladies are hand delivering soup to my door. I keep telling them I require no special treatment.”

  Gerald grasped the man’s shoulder. “Come along. I won’t accept no for an answer.” I wish I could.

  “If you insist.” A grin lit Patrick’s face. “And will Mrs. Marshall be joining us?”

  Gerald blew air out between his teeth. “I imagine so.”

  * * *

  The smell of roasting chicken and fresh-baked rolls permeated the farthest reaches of the house. Ruby turned from her discussion with Abby and hung the pinned-together skirt in the wardrobe, careful to brush out any wrinkles.

  Abby plopped down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve changed your mind, then?”

  Ruby lifted her sewing basket to the shelf. “I’m trying to keep myself open to the possibilities. But if I decide I’m ready to begin seeing someone, I need to know what to say—how to act. Charlie and I had been acquaintances since we were children. I never had to pretend with him.”

  Abby’s brow wrinkled. “You shouldn’t have to pretend with anyone.”

  Ruby closed the cabinet and strode to the dressing table, intent on fixing her hair before supper. Gerald wouldn’t give her a second glance if she looked like yesterday’s weed pile. “I don’t mean ‘pretend,’ exactly. I wish to be interesting, entertaining. Not make a fool of myself.”

  A smile spread across Abby’s freckled face. “Then you’re speaking to the wrong person. I’m the queen of fools. I’ve never known what to say to anyone, much less to a man.”

  Ruby stared into the mirror, catching Abby’s reflection over her own shoulder. “You do fine with Robert.”

  The young woman blushed. “I didn’t do well at first—I lived in a perpetual state of tongue-tiedness.”

  Ruby reached for the hair oil and dribbled a few drops into her palms. “When did it change?”

  Abby clutched a book to her chest. “It took a while. Eventually we’d both embarrassed ourselves enough times, and we got past the silliness.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I also learned he loved me as I already was—not for who I was trying to be.”

  Ruby ran the oil through her curls, smoothing the loose ones back into place, and teasing the style to new heights, eyeing the Gibson Girl portrait she’d propped up against her powder bowl. Gerald had already seen her worst. Maybe it was time to show him her best.

  Abby kicked back onto the bed and flipped open her book. “I think Robert is free this weekend. Perhaps he and Patrick could escort us to the new art exhibit.”

  Ruby froze, her hands buried in her hair. Patrick? Her stomach dropped. Her mind had been so focused on Gerald, she’d completely forgotten about Patrick’s request. She pulled her fingers free, knocking the pompadour frame askew. “Let’s not rush, Abby. I—I just wanted to ask your opinion. I didn’t mean to suggest I was prepared to begin entertaining callers.”

  Abby spoke from behind the covers of the book. “My opinion is—you’re ready. And Patrick is perfect for you.”

  Ruby stared at her reflection, the curls springing up like the fur of a frightened alley cat. “Please, don’t say anything to encourage him.”

  “I won’t. But it won’t stop me from encouraging you.”

  28

  Gerald glanced around the hall, conscious of Patrick lingering in the doorway behind him. “Come on in. Let me take your hat.”

  Patrick swept off his derby and clutched it to his stomach. “Are you sure the family won’t mind me showing up like this?”

  “Positive. They’ll be delighted.” Gerald ignored the heaviness in his chest at the thought of Ruby greeting the eager Irishman.

  The dog rushed up the stairs, likely in search of Ruby. Gerald wished he could follow.

  His mother approached from the kitchen. “Supper will be on the table in a heartbeat. I’m just dishing out the vegetables.” Her eyes widened at the sight of their guest. She quickly undid the strings of her soiled apron.

  “Mother, I hope you don’t mind, but I ran into a . . . a friend.” He settled a hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is—”

  “Goodness, Gerald, I know who he is. Patrick Allison—the hero of the refugee camps. The women from the Ladies’ Aid never cease singing his praises.” She ran quick fingers across her hair and collar. “We’re honored to welcome you to our home, Reverend Allison.” Her cheeks pinked.

  Was his mother primping? Gerald tilted his head, his jaw falling open.

  “Mrs. Larkspur.” Patrick smiled and accepted her offered hand. “I apologize for dropping in unannounced. Your son is quite generous.”

  “Nonsense.” Gerald’s mother frowned. “I’d have been vexed with him if he didn’t invite you. I always cook plenty. With all the work you’ve done on behalf of this city, I would never forgive myself if I knew you were going hungry.”

  Patrick laughed and patted his vest front. “I rarely go without. Your Ladies’ Aid always ensures I’m well cared for.” He glanced around the hall. “Fine home, Dr. Larkspur.”

  Gerald jerked back to attention. “Thank you. Come in, come in. Sorry to leave you standing in the entry.” He waved Patrick through to the parlor as his mother rushed back to the kitchen, chirruping like an excited hen.

  The front room, which had always seemed conservative, suddenly felt opulent and overdone. Gerald gestured for the clergyman to sit. “I am saddened to hear of your situation. I assumed the church took better care of their shepherds.”

  Patrick claimed a seat by the window. “Best thing to ever happen to me. I was far too comfortable being a junior minister for a large congregation. It’s a simple matter to lose track of the Great Commission when you’re feeding off the fat of the land.”

  Gerald glanced about at the plush furniture and heavy draperies, the comfort tangling his spirits like a snare. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Voices sounded on the stairs. Gerald held his breath. Would Ruby be pleased to see Patrick?

  His cousin arrived first, Abby’s smile bringing new energy to the room. “Patrick! What are you doing here? We were just speaking of you!”

  Ruby’s face appe
ared over Abby’s left shoulder, her mouth falling open as blooming circles of pink rose in each cheek.

  Patrick sprang to his feet. “Abby, Mrs. Marshall, what a treat to see you both again.”

  Abby grabbed Ruby’s elbow and pulled her into the parlor. “Isn’t it wonderful, Ruby?”

  Ruby smiled. “Yes, of course.”

  Gerald shook off the sense of cold fingers creeping up his spine. Ruby could make her own decisions. She’d made her position painfully clear. “Abby, Ruby, would you entertain our guest for a moment? I need to check on a few things before supper.” He nodded to Patrick. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “You’re leaving me in fine company, Doctor. I’ll be perfectly content.”

  I can imagine. Gerald strode out of the room, hurrying down the hall to his study and closing the door behind him. He sank into the swivel chair with a groan. “God, what are you doing?” He turned to face out the window. The light hung low in the sky, the days growing shorter as winter approached. Birds flitted through the shrubs, as if concerned time was somehow running out.

  Gerald let his head fall forward, the image of Ruby’s excited flush filling his mind. She’d said she wasn’t ready to move on from the loss of her husband. Perhaps it had been a convenient excuse until the right man came along. He lifted his hands and pressed them against his temples. He’d been foolish to think she’d be interested in him. She was his partner’s sister and a houseguest. Nothing more.

  The sound of laughter crept in under the door.

  Father, give me the grace to survive this meal.

  * * *

  Ruby led the way to the table, the sensation of a hundred tiny needles prickling across her skin. Just as she’d always suspected, God had a bizarre sense of humor. As soon as she decided to speak to Gerald about her deepening feelings, God cast an unwelcomed suitor in her path. No matter how attractive Patrick Allison might be, her heart didn’t thrum like an automobile engine when he entered the room.

  Mae had already arranged heaping platters of food, adding a bouquet of late-blooming roses, and exchanged the everyday napkins for a batch of finer quality.