Against a Brightening Sky (2 page)

That made me uneasy. I whispered charms, telling them to move on and forbidding them to haunt me or mine. All but two of the ghosts did as I'd ordered. A middle-aged man dressed in a formal coat and a slim young woman in a crimson gown resisted, but I won in the end.

I relaxed once they'd gone, determined to enjoy our outing. We hadn't had a free day to spend with Sadie and Jack Fitzgerald in far too long. Sadie and I had been best friends since childhood, and ours was a friendship that had endured through both the best and worst of times. Jack and Gabe had been partners since they joined the police force nearly fifteen years before. They'd grown close as brothers. Time with Sadie and Jack was always well spent.

March weather was often unpredictable, but we'd gotten lucky. A cool breeze blew off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, but the sun was warm and bright in a cerulean sky. Thick gray fog sealed the mouth of the Bay but showed no sign of moving inland. Flocks of ducks formed giant vees and raced toward the wetlands lining the Bay shore, while gulls and terns wheeled in thick, dark spirals, their keening cries echoing so that I heard them from blocks away.

“Isn't this a glorious day, Dee? I knew the fog would stay away until dark.” Sadie set two-year-old Connor atop Jack's shoulders, her face flushed and blue eyes bright with excitement. Blond curls bubbled out from beneath her stylish cloche hat and framed her face, accenting her already considerable charm. Her shawl-collared dress was the latest fashion, made in chocolate silk and broken at the waist with tiny pleats. Bell-shaped skirts ended at her ankles. The day was warm, but she'd tossed a honey-colored mink shawl over her shoulders.

Half the fun of going anywhere with Sadie was watching heads turn as she passed by, a game her husband enjoyed as much as the rest of us. Most of our amusement stemmed from knowing those who judged Sadie solely on her looks vastly underestimated her. Given the opportunity, she never hesitated to set them straight.

“It's an absolutely perfect day.” I sidestepped the ghost of a prince kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk, head bowed to receive a crown. “Not a trace of fog anywhere. I'm so glad we could watch the parade together.”

“Oh, so am I, Dee.” Sadie brushed a hand over her son's cheek, and her bright smile dimmed a little. “I just hope the crowd and the parade noise don't frighten Connor. He cries so easily when we're downtown.”

Sadie didn't see the world as I did, but I suspected that her son did. Connor was wild eyed and flushed, trying to look everywhere at once. Not telling my dearest friend that her baby boy watched ghosts was a guilty secret that weighed on me; one I couldn't keep much longer. Since early infancy, he'd had that telltale stare Gabe said I adopted when ghosts were present. I couldn't deny that Connor watched unseen things in the corner of the room rather than the people around him. Not when I saw spirits in those same corners.

Dora and I had half hoped Connor might grow out of it, but as time went on, I became convinced that wasn't the case. The question had become when to tell Sadie, not if we'd be forced to.

At least I'd be there to help Connor and teach him how to protect himself. Slim consolation for his mother, but that was all I had to offer.

I reached up and brushed the hair back from little Connor's face. His hair was red and curly like his father's, but the curls were fine and soft like Sadie's, his eyes the same shade of blue as his mother's. Stella was the miniature of her mother through and through, including the ability to charm the moon from the sky. I could never firmly decide who Connor resembled most, but many days I thought it was his grandmother Esther. “I'll take him for a walk if he starts to cry. That way Stella can enjoy the parade and you needn't worry. Where are we meeting Sam?”

“Near Lotta's fountain and the Palace Hotel.” Gabe picked Stella up, making it easier for us to move along the increasingly crowded sidewalk. She looped an arm around his neck and rested her cheek against his. “Sam said he'd be at the corner on the Palace side of the street. We won't be able to miss him that way. The parade turns right there, so it's the perfect place to watch. Sam and Miss Mills are going to save a spot on the curb for us.”

Sadie's eyes lit up at the mention of Sam Butler in connection with a woman's name. Time and motherhood hadn't dulled her matchmaker instincts. If anything, fewer opportunities made her more eager. “Miss Mills? I didn't know Sam was courting anyone. Why didn't you tell me, Jack? We could have had them come to supper.”

“Sam's not courting her, sweetheart.” Jack and Gabe traded looks, but Gabe's amused expression made it clear Jack was on his own. “They're friends. Colleagues, I guess you could say. She's new in town and Sam's making an effort to introduce her to people.”

“Colleagues?” Sadie appeared thoroughly unconvinced. Now that she had the scent of a possible romance in her nose, she'd not let go. She'd pointed out more than once that her matchmaking had worked with me and Gabe. Sadie lived in hope of another success. “Is Miss Mills a reporter as well? I've read that some of the more progressive papers do have women on their staffs.”

I felt sorry for Sam. Samuel Clemens Butler was young, a successful reporter for
The Call,
and romantically unattached, and thus the perfect candidate for Sadie's efforts. We'd all been friends since he came to San Francisco a little over two years ago and helped Gabe with a case, but poor Sam had no idea what was in store for him.

Attempts to sidetrack Sadie usually failed, but I felt honor bound to try. “Libby Mills is a social worker. The
Examiner
has run several articles about her. Miss Mills negotiates with local businesses to provide respectable employment for soldier's widows at decent wages. It's quite noble work from what I've read, and she's gotten good results. I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

The words “social worker” must have summoned visions of an older woman with ample bosoms and frumpy clothes. Sadie's smile dimmed ever so slightly, but she put a good face on things. “Perhaps I can persuade a few friends to host a luncheon or an afternoon reception for Miss Mills. Introducing her to San Francisco society is bound to do her cause a world of good. I could even ask Katherine to include Miss Mills in the garden party she's hosting next week. She's always looking for a new charity to support.”

The corners of Jack's mouth twitched, but he kept a straight face. “That's a marvelous idea, sweetheart. My dear stepmother loves to throw money around in public. She has an image to maintain, after all.”

Sadie laughed and slipped an arm around his waist. “What you really mean is giving money to charity eases her guilt. Katherine would never admit to that, but we both know it's true. If Miss Mills's people benefit, well, that's all to the good, as far as I'm concerned. I'll ring Katherine this evening.”

Lotta's fountain came into view. All the people of San Francisco knew the fountain built by Lotta Crabtree, her gift to the city. Most had a story to tell. The brass fountain with its tall, ornate central column, lion's-head spouts, and griffin-guarded basins survived both the 1906 quake and the fire that swept away all the surrounding buildings. People used the fountain as a rallying point in the aftermath, a place to leave messages and post lists of who'd survived and who had died. Esther had brought Sadie and me to the fountain to hear opera soprano Luisa Tetrazzini sing on Christmas Eve of 1910.

Survivors of the quake still gathered around Lotta's fountain each April 18 to sing hymns and remember. Not that anyone would ever forget.

Sam was easy to spot. I'd always thought of him as tall and lanky, but today he stood inches above the people around him. His straw boater hat and the thin pinstripes in his ash-gray suit made him appear taller still, especially in comparison to the tiny woman holding his arm.

Libby Mills was much younger than I'd imagined, and her clothes far from frumpy, edging dangerously close to being fashionable. Her green dress had a square neckline, a large lace collar that covered her shoulders, and a pleated skirt that ended scandalously far above her ankles. She wore her hair loose, and soft black waves rippled over her shoulders and down her back.

My father always referred to small, pretty women as doll-like, but I'd never pin that label on Miss Mills. I could see strength and determination in her stance, even from a distance, and she watched everything with a keen eye. If she missed much, I'd be greatly surprised. She laughed easily at Sam's remarks, revealing dimples in an open, friendly face.

I glanced at Sadie, wondering if she'd seen them too. Her utterly blissful smile told the story. I'd no hope of saving Sam from her meddling. He'd have to save himself.

Sam saw us and waved. “Gabe, Jack, over here.”

Police officers had already halted traffic for the parade. We crossed the street quickly and filled the space Sam had saved on the curb. Cheery music carried from around the corner, a sign the first band would be here before long.

Sam made the introductions. “Libby, you already know Gabe and Jack. These are their wives, Delia Ryan and Sadie Fitzgerald. It's a mystery to me why such smart women put up with these two scoundrels. Delia and Sadie, this is Miss Libby Mills. Go easy on her, Sadie.”

Gabe winked and I hid a smile. He'd warned Sam.

“Why, Sam, I don't know what you mean.” Sadie was positively beaming as she shook Libby's hand. “Pay no attention to him. I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Mills. And please, call me Sadie.”

“Only if you and Mrs. Ryan call me Libby. Sam's told me a lot about both of you.” Libby gave Sam a sideways glance. “All good things, I promise.”

I stuck my hand out in turn. “And please, Libby, call me Delia. Sam's a good man. I'd listen to him if I were you.”

The music grew louder as the parade came around the corner, cutting off further conversation. Gabe set Stella on the curb at his feet, giving her a clear view as well as room to dance and bounce to the music. The first band was followed by another, cars full of pretty girls tossing paper flowers to the crowd, and solemn-faced men carrying banners for aid societies and fellowship halls. Policemen marched in full dress uniforms, while men from local firehouses drove old horse-drawn fire wagons and tossed candy to children. People clapped and cheered when a group of dancers stopped at our corner. They gave a grand performance before moving on.

I kept an eye on Connor, looking for signs that the crowd and the ever-present ghosts had gotten to be too much for him. Jack bounced his son up and down in time to the music while Sadie rested a hand on Connor's back. So far, he seemed to be faring well, watching everything with excitement and not fear. I stayed close, just in case.

A new group of men came around the corner, carrying flags and a different kind of banner. Some of the men had hand-lettered cards stuck into their hatbands that read
BREAD OR REVOLUTION
. The cheering stopped, the crowd growing quiet and subdued. Sam scowled and wiped a hand over his mouth. “I didn't think he'd go through with it. Dominic Mullaney should have more sense.”

People booed loudly and a few shouted insults. I touched Gabe's arm. “What's wrong?”

He gestured toward the men marching past. “Mullaney and his crew are trying to organize labor unions on the docks. They've already started organizing waiters in the big hotels too. The business owners involved have done their best to turn people against the idea. Father Colm over at Saint Mary Magdalene was afraid there'd be trouble and tried to talk Mullaney out of marching in the parade. Father Colm was right. I just hope things don't get too far out of hand.”

The shouting grew louder, people in the crowd and the men who'd been marching taunting each other. Ghosts appeared amongst the marchers: men dressed in miners' gear with coal dust smeared across their faces, blacksmiths in leather aprons and longshoremen in sweat-soaked shirts, phantom boxes balanced on a shoulder. There were child ghosts as well, barefoot waifs holding spindles from textile mills or battered lunch buckets. The spirits' anger rolled through the crowd, feeding the growing rage of union organizers and spectators both.

Spirits of dead royalty shimmered into view, clustered near a group of the spectators along the curb. These ghosts were nervous, afraid. I tried to discover who in the crowd they haunted, but there were far too many people.

“I don't think it's safe for the children to stay here.” Gabe picked up Stella and handed her back to Sadie. He took his badge out of an inside pocket and pinned it to his coat. “Take them down the block and into the Palace, Dee, and stay as far from the front windows as you can. All the way to the back of the lobby would be best. Libby, I think you should go as well.”

“There used to be seating areas at the back. We'll go there.” I took Connor from Jack. He was shaking and crying, staring at the ghosts, and I'd no doubt their anger washed over him as it did me. I pulled Connor's head down to rest on my shoulder, doing what I could to wrap wards and protections around him. They must have done some good. I felt Connor sigh and relax against me. “Be careful, Gabe.”

He smiled and turned away, wading into the thick of the angry mob. Jack and Sam went with him. I met Sadie's eyes, knowing what I'd see. Fear for Jack struggled with the need to get her children far from danger. She couldn't protect all of them at once. Neither could I.

Libby was small but adept at making her way through crowds. She went ahead of Sadie and me, forcing openings to let us through, and going so far as to shove a large man who tried to block our way deliberately. I couldn't shake the sick feeling that something was very wrong here. Few people made an attempt to leave. Instead, men and women both pushed forward, faces eager, and scrabbled to get closer to the heart of the disturbance. I didn't understand why.