Forbidden Fire (36 page)

Word had already come in from Oakland that William Randolph Hearst, the great native-born San Franciscan now living in the east, had sent out early morning editorials minimizing the damage and change to the city.

He would definitely be changing his editorials in his New York and Chicago newspapers. When the San Francisco
Examiner
started up print again, there would be nothing left to minimize.

There was terror in the streets, but there was also the greatest heroism.

Ian, so tired that he didn't even feel it any more, just kept on working. He moved along with the fire wagon, his pick thrown over his shoulder, traveling from site to site, wherever he was needed. Bobby had come back to him with messages. Marissa was fine, safely in the hospital. Bobby had ridden to the house on Nob Hill, and Theo and the Kwans and Jimmy and Mary O'Brien were fine. The house had stood well, and none of the animals had been injured.

Darrin was still with Marissa, and a Dr. Spencer had said that she would suffer no aftereffects. It was really just a bump on the head.

Bobby rode back, and Ian felt at ease.

Until he heard that the fire had come licking dangerously close to the hospital. Then he knew that he had to hurry. He felt desperate to reach Marissa.

He was afraid he might lose her forever.

By then, they were into the second day of the fire. Marines had been ordered in, and orders came down that the crew had to break for a few hours of sleep at the very least.

Ian didn't sleep.

He left the others and hurried through the streets to the hospital. He'd had a perfectly good horse, he reminded himself. He'd given the bay away, and now he'd have given everything to have him back.

He started to run, feeling that he wouldn't make it in time.

He didn't. The last wagon was drawing away as he reached the hospital.

The first lick of fire was touching the roof.

Ahead, Ian saw a man on foot, following the wagon. Ian raced after the man.

“Wait! Where have the patients gone? Where are they being taken?”

The man stopped and turned to him. He looked as weary and worn as Ian felt.

“They've all gone, sir. They've all gone.”

“Yes, I know, but where?”

“The Golden Gate Park. They're setting up the hospital and more. There will be tents for those left homeless, and food lines.” He paused for a minute, looking at Ian. “Hope you find who you're looking for, sir. I sure do.”

“Thank you,” Ian said. “I'll find her.”

Exhausted, he started walking toward the park.

He just wanted to see her face.

The hospital had almost been cleared when Marissa ran into Dr. Spencer in the hallway.

“I heard you were up and about, Mrs. Tremayne.” He caught hold of her and led her beneath one of the lamps, inspecting her eyes. “Well, it seems that you look all right. Are you still dizzy? Nauseated?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine, really.”

He sighed. “There's nothing much I could do about it if you weren't. Too many broken bones and bleeders and burn victims. Still, you ought to be taking it easy during the next few days.”

“I—I need something to do,” she told him.

“All right, then. I've got a broken ankle left down in the ward. A society belle, and I haven't the medical staff to deal with her. The ankle is splinted and set. She'll have to hobble along. She's the last to be moved except for a few of the critical patients, and I need to get her down to the wagon as quickly as possible. We're out of crutches, and we haven't a spare person to try to fashion anything makeshift at the moment. Want to take her on?”

Marissa nodded, and Dr. Spencer pointed down the hall. “Left door. You're on your own.”

She wasn't exactly on her own. Darrin, her little shadow, was waiting for her even as she spoke to Dr. Spencer. Marissa grimaced to him as the doctor walked on to tend to his more serious patients. Then she started down the hall to the ward.

A woman was sitting propped up on the bed. She was clad in day clothes, with her dove-gray skirt split so that the ankle could be attended to properly.

She looked at Marissa as Marissa walked into the room, and then both women froze.

“You!” Grace Leroux whispered.

From down the hall came a scream. “The fire! My God, it's caught the roof.”

“Hurry! It's catching fast.”

Marissa saw the fear that flicked through the other woman's eyes. She clenched her jaw and walked into the room, Darrin following her.

“Come on. We've got to get you out of here,” Marissa told the woman. And to her surprise, Grace started to laugh. There was something very near hysteria in the sound. “You're going to help me? I don't believe it. Don't you know that this place could incinerate at any minute?”

“Yes, I know, so let's hurry.”

“Oh, aren't you just so kind!”

“Grace, let's go,” Marissa urged.

And then the woman was quiet. “You're really going to help save me, after everything?”

“You spread rumors about me, Grace. That's not exactly murder.”

Grace kept looking at her. It was Darrin who spoke. “Don't you understand?” he said softly. “Grace is the one who set you up. She paid those men to kidnap you, to take you to Chinatown. To sell you across the ocean.”

Marissa inhaled sharply. Staring at Grace, she knew it was the truth.

“So what now, Mrs. Tremayne?” Grace mocked softly. “Are you still so willing to save me?”

Marissa took hold of her arm and pulled her up. “Yes, I hate the stench of burning flesh. Now, for the love of God, can we go?”

Darrin supported one shoulder, Marissa the other. It was very slow going, but she and Darrin eventually got Grace down the stairs and into the wagon.

Dr. Spencer came riding up to the wagon then. “Get in with the patients, Mrs. Tremayne—” he nodded to Darrin “—son.”

“I don't think that there's room—” Marissa began.

“You're still my patient. Get in.” He rode up close to her. “You're a reckless young woman, Mrs. Tremayne. Brave. But do you really want to risk the child you're carrying?”

She felt a flush cover her cheeks. Darrin had heard the man. She didn't know who else had. And she didn't know if it mattered or not. They were living in disaster. Who would even remember the doctor's words?

And she didn't know if Ian would come back so she could try to tell him herself.

Without a word, she crawled into the wagon.

But when they reached the park, she discovered she couldn't dwell on any of her own worries. People were streaming in from all over the city. Food lines were set up, and they needed people to man them. Children were running around, lost and terrified. There were minor injuries that need attending to.

Help was on the way. A train was coming in from the east laden with doctors and nurses. They would come soon.

But for the moment, she was needed.

Even Nob Hill had been threatened. The great mansions were catching on fire. A new worry awoke in her as she feared for Uncle Theo, Mary and Jimmy. She had to believe that they would get out all right.

Marissa found the woman in charge of the food lines. The heavy-bosomed matron had no difficulty putting her straight to work. She and Darrin were assigned the lost children.

Marissa immediately began to make plates for them, and bind up little injuries, and try to make them believe that everything would soon be all right.

She was holding one little toddler when she looked up to see Bobby. He was staring at her, as pleased as could be. “Found your uncle, Mrs. Tremayne. And the Chinese folks and your friends down the hill. And the horses are going to be all right, well, I think they are, they were confiscated by the city. Better than burning up for nothing, right? Anyway—”

He stepped back, and there was Theo. She leaped up with a glad cry and hugged and kissed him. Theo was fine; his eyes were bright. He was ready for this new battle. He took the toddler from her while she went to see Mary.

Mary was already ill. Rounded now with her baby, but pale, she was lying on an army cot in one of the little tents. Pale and beautiful. Marissa felt her heart go out to her friend.

Mary cried out when she saw her, trying to rise to embrace her. Marissa hurried to her side and sank down beside her. “Oh, Mary, I'm so glad to see you safe—”

“And you! Bobby told us you'd been hurt, and we were so worried, but here you are.”

“We've survived it, Mary. And we're going to keep surviving.”

“You're so strong. Always so strong. I don't know what I would have done without you through the years.”

Marissa looked at Mary and smiled wryly. “Me! Oh, Mary, you've always been the one with the optimism, certain that things would work!”

“The weak one. So useless now.”

“Mary! You're not useless. You're about to have a baby. Very soon. Oh, Mary! Strength isn't in anything that we can or can't do. It's in the heart! And you've the strength of a tiger, I promise you.”

Mary smiled, her lashes low, not quite believing Marissa, but not about to argue with her. Marissa told her to sleep, that she needed to get back to the children.

When she returned, she realized that her group was growing. Someone had handed Darrin a six-month-old child for her to tend to, so now her charges ran from that babe to a sweet fifteen-year-old girl who was doing her very best to be helpful. There were about thirty in all. And all of them frightened and missing their parents.

Marissa made sure that they were fed. She set about tending to their little wounds again. It was easier now. She and Darrin weren't alone. Bobby was there to do her bidding, and Jimmy split his time between seeing to his wife and helping her with the children.

And she had Uncle Theo, too, and between them they got the children settled down for some sleep, despite the fact that it was still daytime. And between them, they sat in the large tent allotted them all, and spun out fairy tales to take the children's minds off of the disaster.

Toward the end of the night, she looked up to see that a man was leaning against the post at the entrance. She stared harder and she realized that the tall, blackened creature was Ian.

Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and then seemed to fly. He was alive.

And he was watching her. She didn't know how long he had been standing there. She thought that it might have been awhile.

She almost cried out, almost leaped up and rushed to his arms. But she was suddenly afraid. Maybe his wife shouldn't be here. Maybe she was showing the circumstances of her birth, both she and Theo, so at home in such conditions.

He was alive, she told herself, and nothing else mattered.

But Ian didn't move, and she didn't move. She stared at the little girl tugging on her ragged skirt, and she finished her story with a faltering voice.

And then she rose. She tucked the little girl into a cot. “Your husband's come, Marissa,” Uncle Theo said. “I'll see to the rest. With Darrin, me fine lad. And then I'll be tucking him in, too. This has been way too much for a boy this one's age.”

“Thank you,” Marissa murmured. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and stared at Ian. They were a pair. He was black with soot from head to toe, his white shirt barely recognizable, his hands charred, his hair whitened with ash. And she was still in her blackened white, too, her skirt torn for bandages.

And then he walked slowly toward her. The blue of his eyes was startling against the darkness of his face.

“Ian!” she murmured awkwardly. She smoothed her hands down her skirt again. “I'm so glad that you're alive!” she whispered, and then she kept talking. Too swiftly, and defensively. “I shouldn't be here, I imagine. If you'd married a real lady, she wouldn't be among the bread lines and the waifs. I'm sorry, I—”

“Ian!” Jimmy burst into the tent. “Ian, can you come quick? We need some help.”

Chapter Nineteen

A
new wagonload of injured had just come in, and every available pair of hands was being put to use to carry the burned and wounded into the tents.

Doctors and nurses were arriving in the city now; medication had arrived from Oakland, and from every town close enough to render quick assistance.

Ian carefully lifted and carried men, women and children. He had just laid down a small child suffering from smoke inhalation when he looked up to see a familiar figure bent over a woman toward the rear of the tent.

For a moment he was puzzled. Then he realized that the man was Lilli's employee, the very questionable and homely Jake.

He felt a tinge of unease sweep down his spine, and he hurried along the row of cots to reach him.

As he had feared, Jake was bending over Lilli.

The stout, ugly man looked up and saw Ian. He seemed relieved, and quickly left his place at Lilli's bedside, motioning for Ian to sit. Ian hesitated, and the man said, “Please sir. It'd mean so much to her.”

Ian knelt down carefully by the cot and took Lilli's hand. He fought hard to keep from shuddering, thinking of the pain she must be suffering.

Half of her beautiful face had been hideously burned.

He curled his fingers around hers. She opened her eyes and saw him.

“Oh, Ian!” she whispered. She twisted to hide the disfigurement.

“Lilli, Lilli,” he murmured. “They're going to help you.” He glanced at Jake. “Have they given her something for the pain? I heard that they were very low yesterday on anesthetics—”

“She's had morphine. I saw to it,” Jake told him.

Thank God. She wasn't suffering. But something about Jake's voice told Ian that the man didn't think Lilli was going to make it.

“Ian …” It seemed very difficult for her to speak. “You shouldn't … have seen me so. You'll remember me like this.”