Maria turned on her brother. “Benito stop. Conrad saved my life. That’s not the way to treat our guest. Louisa, some water for Mama.” Maria forced her mother to drink some water. “Have you seen Paulo? He went back to look for Rosa.” She threw the last remark over her shoulder at their brother, who was still glaring at Conrad.
“No, he hasn’t graced the door either. Who would have thought my sisters would bring such shame to our family? Paulo is bad enough but at least he’s Sicilian this one–Irish ain’t you?”
“American actually. Maria, I’ll go back to the factory and look for Rosa.” When she moved to go with him, he shook his head. “Stay here. Your mama needs you. I will be back soon.” He kissed her on the cheek regardless of her brother, and left before she could stop him.
Furious, Maria roasted her brother, “You jackass!” She had never used the term before, but it suited her brother. “What gives you the right to throw your weight around? That man saved my life. He came back into the fire and rescued me. You should be out there looking for our sister, our neighbors. There are hundreds, yes, hundreds of girls missing. Go. Get out now before I say something I regret.”
Benito gave her a dirty look before grabbing his hat. He banged the door shut behind him. Maria glared at the door for a few seconds as she tried not to cry with frustration and grief.
Maria turned to her younger sisters, who shrank back from her. They were used to Rosa’s tantrums, but Maria was usually the quiet one. “Louisa, Sophia, come here and give me a hug.”
“Phew - you need a bath, you smell rotten,” Sophia grumbled but Louisa just clung to her. She hugged both before giving them chores to do. “Louisa, you go check on our neighbors. See who has some food prepared and borrow some. Mama will pay them back tomorrow, won’t you, Mama?”
Her mother uttered something unintelligible from the table where she remained sobbing. If only Papa was here. But it was best he wasn’t. Poor gentle Papa would have blamed himself for bringing his girls to a city that let them burn.
All night they waited, joined by some of their neighbors who were also missing family members. The men toured the hospitals and the morgues; the women stayed home saying rosaries. The priest came to sit with them, but Maria couldn’t face him. She went to sit on the doorstep for a while, but the need to do something grew stronger. She returned to the apartment. “Mama, I have to go to the hospital. Maybe there is some way I can help. I am going out of my mind sitting here doing nothing.”
Her mama’s look chilled her blood. “We are praying, Maria.”
Praying. That hadn’t kept Rosa safe, had it? “Yes, but I need to do something practical. I need to be active. I can’t sit anymore.”
Her mother looked like she would argue, but decided against it.
“Be careful, Maria. I can’t lose you.” The “too” hung in the air. Maria grabbed her coat, kissed her sleepy sisters on the hair telling them to go to bed and then left the house. One neighbor said she would walk with her. She couldn’t talk and was glad the woman felt the same way. As they walked, more joined them en route to the hospitals and morgues. Maybe she should check the morgues, but she couldn’t face that. It was almost like admitting Rosa was dead. She pictured her sister as she had been at lunch, her eyes lit up chatting about Paulo and their plans for the future. So full of life. She had to be okay.
Chapter 34
At the hospital, Maria found Frieda, her friend, almost asleep on her feet. Her apron had blood and soot stains on it, her hair tumbled from its bun, and her eyes spoke volumes about the sights she’d seen.
“Maria! Patrick told me you were safe, thank goodness. I was so worried. And Rosa?”
Maria gave a slight shake of her head. “What can I do to help? I have to do something. The time is passing so slowly. Benito, Conrad, and others are out looking for her. I can’t sit waiting. I need to help. I need to stop thinking, stop seeing...” She spoke fast, trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway.
Frieda put her arms around her, escorting her to an area dispensing tea and coffee. She gave Maria a hot tea with lots of sugar. Maria grimaced at the taste, but Frieda insisted it was good for shock.
“You could translate for us. We have so many Italians waiting for answers on their loved ones. Some nurses are trying to help, but they would be better with patients. Can you do that?”
Yes, Maria could do that. She went to the waiting area and soon was caught up helping families of other victims. Some knew their loved ones were in the hospital and waited for news. Others were hoping to find their wives and daughters. A few were waiting for a priest. All were grieving. Time passed a little faster.
Maria hurried back and forth. She loved being able to impart good news. The sign of a smile breaking through the worried faces lifted her spirits, but they were few. Other families had to deal with the fact their loved ones had lived until reaching hospital, only to lose their fight. She avoided the priests. They weren’t all like Father António, but they could have done more to help the strike. Maybe if the strikers had won, this wouldn’t have happened. The doors wouldn’t have been locked for starters. The fire buckets might have been full of water. The hoses may have worked. She didn’t want to think about that.
It was early morning before Conrad found her. She quailed at the look on his face, all hope gone. “Where?”
Conrad moved closer, taking her hands in his. Her whole body shook, a mixture of anger and grief. Some had survived, why hadn’t Rosa?
“Paulo identified her, he recognized her watch. He said he gave it to her as a gift.” He put a finger under her chin making her look up at him. “I’m so sorry, Maria. I’ll take you home.”
Recognized her watch? Her stomach churned. Rosa, her beautiful sister, had burned. She had to see for herself. Otherwise she wouldn’t believe Rosa was dead.
“Bring me to her.”
“No, Maria.” Conor spoke firmly. “You need to go home. Paulo won’t tell your mother. He has other people to find. His cousins or something.”
She didn’t want to face Mama. She didn’t want to be the one who broke her heart, not again. Mama had only just forgiven her for Papa dying. She’d never forgive her for leaving Rosa behind.
“Why didn’t I go back for her? Why didn’t you make me go back for her?” She beat his chest with her hands. “You should have looked for her, rescued her! She can’t be dead.”
Conrad held her as she railed against the news, throwing hurtful accusations at him.
“You never liked my sister. That’s why you left her behind, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, so sorry.” Conrad murmured repeatedly, holding her in a vice like grip. She glanced up and saw people staring at her. Their grim, shocked faces highlighting their grief. She wasn’t the only person to lose someone. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she composed herself. She had to be the strong one.
“Maria, please let me take you home. I know you’re angry with me and you have every right. I should have gone back in to find Rosa.”
She ignored his words. Actions spoke louder. He’d insisted she get to safety, even if that meant leaving Rosa behind. Rosa sat near the windows. All the girls working near her desk had died. Maria pushed those thoughts out of her head.
“Benito, does he know?” Not that her brother would volunteer to tell Mama.
“I haven’t seen him, but it is possible he is still down there. So many people, not just families but others. Rich people, all dressed up in their fancy clothes.”
Maria barely registered what he was saying, but she glanced up at his last remark.
“What do they want? They didn’t help us when we needed them to support us with the strike. If they had, maybe we wouldn’t be dealing with this now.”
Conrad shrugged. “I don’t know. Come on, you look as if you could sleep on your feet. Let someone else help. Rest and grieve.”
She wanted Rosa home, healthy and happy. She didn’t want to grieve. She’d done enough of that for Papa. Her sister with her dreams
of getting married and having a family. All gone.
Chapter 35
Frieda searched the wards looking for Patrick, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?
“Frieda, have you seen Patrick?” his father asked.
“No, Dr. Green. I assumed he was in surgery with you.”
A nurse passed by at that moment. “Dr. Green went down to the factory site some time ago.”
Frieda and Richard exchanged a look. Heart thumping, Frieda tried to breathe slowly. “Why would they need a doctor down there? I thought they had taken all the survivors to hospital.”
“They did, but it’s something to do with an elevator shaft. The firemen used water to put the fires out, but they didn’t know some people had tried to escape by jumping into the elevator shaft. Someone came to the hospital, a police officer asking for volunteers and Dr. Green, I mean Dr. Patrick Green rushed off.”
Frieda saw her concern mirrored on Richard’s face. He took her hand, “I can’t leave, I have too many patients. Theater is backed up right now.”
She glanced at the full waiting room. She shouldn’t leave either, but Patrick had run into danger. What if anything happened to him?
A nurse’s voice broke into her thoughts, “Dr. Klunsberg, another ambulance has just pulled up.”
Frieda rushed to help, followed by Richard. The ambulance doors were open.
“Could do with some help in here.”
Patrick’s voice. Frieda rushed to assist. She climbed in, her heart failing at the sight in front of her. Patrick looked awful, his face streaked with soot, his eyes bloodshot.
“Frieda, it’s Leonie. Blood pressure is too low, can barely take it. Come on Leonie, don’t give up now. We got you out of there. Fight. You’re so brave, jumping into the elevator shaft. Carrie and your brothers will be so proud.”
Patrick kept talking to Leonie as Frieda and Richard helped to steady her trolley as they walked into the hospital. Patrick gave Richard a lowdown of injuries he found.
“Probably missed some, Dad. The light was rather dim. She’s soaked, but as far as I can see there’s no external bleeding. Not anything more serious than a couple of cuts and bruises and a gash on her forehead. There may be internal bleeding; her pulse is erratic and blood pressure dropping.”
“Patrick, stand down, lad. We’ll take it from here. You go wash up, get some clothes and some food.”
“But Dad --”
Frieda pulled Patrick’s hand. “Let your dad do his thing. She couldn’t be in better hands.” She stared after the trolley wheeling Leonie away, stamping down her urge to scream in frustration. It was all so unfair. None of the workers deserved to die or be injured. Leonie couldn’t die too. She just couldn’t. She blew through her mouth trying to stop the tears.
Patrick clasped Frieda’s hand and pulled her to him, to the cheers of those surrounding them. She felt him shuddering in her arms; he was crying. She held him until his body stopped shaking, not wanting to expose him to ridicule. There were still some who would look down on men who cried in public.
“You’re in shock, Patrick. Drink this.” She handed him a hot drink prepared by a nurse. “You need to have a bath and go to bed. Go on now. You’re exhausted.”
Frieda wanted to follow Patrick, but she couldn’t be seen going into the staff quarters. It was one thing for them to embrace in a public hall, but she had her reputation to protect. She stared after him as he shuffled off, like a sleepwalker.
Leonie. She had to find out how she was, but a voice from behind stopped her.
“He’s a hero, that man of yours, ma’am.”
Frieda turned toward the voice. A fireman, almost covered in black apart from white streaks down his face and his red eyes, stared back at her.
“Are you hurt? Has a doctor seen you?” Frieda asked, moving closer as her eyes assessed him from head to toe. There was no obvious sign of injury, but with the amount of dirt, she couldn’t be sure.
The fireman held a hand up.
“I had to come and see if the girl made it. We didn’t even know she was down there. Could have drowned the poor little darling. We didn’t know how to move her, she was so weak. Your man, that doctor fella, he climbed down into the shaft and told us what to do. He’s a real hero.”
Frieda blushed at the fireman calling Patrick her man. She quickly recovered her composure.
“You are all heroes. I heard how your men went up toward the fire and broke down a door on the sixth floor, allowing some workers to escape. If it wasn’t for you and the men like you, more would have died.”
The fireman didn’t look like he agreed. “We all feel so helpless, ma’am. Angry, too. If that place had the sprinkler system we recommended, we’d have saved more. They didn’t even do regular fire drills and some survivors have told us how there was fabric lying about everywhere.”
Confused, Frieda was about to ask what he expected given it was a shirtwaist factory.
“I don’t mean the material those poor girls were working on. There was a mountain of waste material which hadn’t been collected. Some say the fire started on the eight floor yet most of those who died worked on the ninth. There are lots questions that need answering.” The man seemed to realize he was talking out of turn. The fire inspectors should investigate the cause before a fireman commented on it.
Frieda put her hand on his arm. “You are a hero. So are your men. You put your lives at risk to help those who needed you. When did you last eat? We have a small kitchen. I could put together a sandwich.”
“Thanks lady, but I best get back to the lads. You look after that doctor of yours. He’s one of the good men.” The man hesitated, “Could you tell me if she will live?”
Her smile fell. “Leonie is very badly injured, so it’s too early to tell, but I can say she is in the best hands. Dr. Richard Green is one of the best doctors in New York as well as being a burns specialist. He is also the father of the doctor you met.”
The fireman raised a hand to his head and left before she remembered to ask his name or his firehouse. Frieda checked a couple of patients before she was free to check on Leonie’s prognosis.
Chapter 36
Frieda pushed the hair back from her eyes, blinking rapidly as she did so. She was beyond tired, but they had to keep going. There were so many casualties, not just those injured in the fire, but family members who’d collapsed or gone into shock on hearing of the loss of their loved ones. Leonie was still in theater, not a good sign, but Frieda couldn’t think about that. She had another patient to worry about, the young woman lying in the bed.
“Nurse, she’s woken up. Nurse.”
Frieda looked up as the nun called to her. She didn’t correct her. Most people didn’t like being treated by a trainee doctor, never mind a female one. She smiled at the girl in the bed, relieved to see her focusing normally.
“Good evening, Celia, how are you feeling?”
“I was just telling her it was a good job she protected her hands. What presence of mind for such a young lady.” The nun bustled off to see someone else, leaving Celia with a big grin on her face.
“It’s lovely to see you smiling, if rather surprising under the circumstances. Is the pain not bad?”
“I was just thinking about the nun. She is praising me for having presence of mind. Not that at all. I just paid off my fur muff, and I wasn’t leaving that behind, fire or no fire!”
Despite herself, Frieda giggled. Celia joined in. Patrick found them laughing.
“Ladies? Frieda?” He asked, the concerned look on his face making Frieda stop.
“Sorry Doctor, it was my fault. I made the nurse laugh. Don’t get cross with her.” Celia sat up straighter in the bed.
“I’ll try not to,” Patrick said, giving Frieda a sly wink. She had to turn away for fear of giggling again. What was wrong with her? It was neither the time nor the place.
Frieda sought refuge in her profession. “Celia has a broken arm and finger and a nasty gash on he
r head. Dr. Hamilton stitched that up. She was lucky. She jumped and slid down the center cable to floor five.”
Admiration lit up Patrick’s face. “You’re a brave young lady. So many of you were.”
Celia’s eyes clouded over. “Doc, can you give me anything for my dreams? I can’t get the sounds out of my head. Just something to tide me over.”
Patrick nodded. “A sleeping tonic will help you rest and give your head injury a chance to heal. Do you have family we should notify?”
“The nun said she will send someone round to tell them. Thanks Doc, you get on and see to someone else. Better yet, go home and rest. You look as tired as the nurse does. She should nurse you better.”
Patrick sent Frieda a look, sending the butterflies in her stomach dancing. “That sounds like a great idea. What do you think, nurse Frieda?”
Frieda walked away before he saw her scarlet face. She almost fell over a young man practically crawling along the corridor.
“Here, let me help you. Patrick, Dr. Green, help me, please.” Frieda shouted as she grasped the man under one shoulder.
The man said something in Yiddish. Frieda answered in German, and between the two of them she understood he was looking for his father. “I left him behind. I didn’t think it was serious. I can’t believe I came out without him. What type of son am I?” The man muttered repeatedly as Frieda and Patrick led him to a spare bed. There they pushed him onto it, Patrick examining him as Frieda removed his socks, what was left of them. The man wouldn’t lie still. He tried to get back up several times, shouting at Patrick when he tried to stop him. His shouts were joined by those of an older man who pushed Frieda out of the way as he threw himself at the bed. “Isodore! My son. My boy. You’re alive!
Both men sobbed, bringing tears to Frieda’s eyes.
Patrick took her arm and led her away. “They both seem relatively unscathed. Let them catch up. Someone else can check over them later. Come with me. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Orphan Train Disaster Page 12
