Forbidden Fire (37 page)

“Lilli, I'll remember that you were always there for me. A beautiful heart in a beautiful person. But I won't need to remember anything, Lilli. This is your city, just like it is mine. You're going to pull through. I'm telling you—you're going to pull through. And we're going to walk arm in arm down the waterfront again. We're going to watch the ships, and buy shrimp from the peddlers, and tea in the garden. Do you hear me, Lilli?”

She squeezed his hand. “You're a good man, Ian,” she said. “I always loved you so. But she loves you, too. You know that.”

“Does she, Lilli? It's what she says. How can you tell?”

“It's in her eyes, Ian. You'll walk on the waterfront with your wife, Ian. Not with me.”

“We'll all live to see it grow again, Lilli.”

She didn't answer him. Her hand no longer squeezed his. He leaned close to her. He could still hear the soft beating of her heart.

“The morphine,” Jake said.

Ian nodded.

“If there's any change, Mr. Tremayne,” he said, “I'll come find you.”

“Thank you, Jake,” Ian said.

Wearily, he rose. He was on his way out of the tent when he nearly plowed into one of the doctors. The haggard-looking man paused, watching him.

“You're Tremayne, Ian Tremayne. Not that there's much likeness now, but I've seen your picture in the paper often enough with your buildings and your political stands. They should have listened to you and Sullivan. The quake didn't destroy the city—the fire did.”

“So it seems,” Ian murmured. He was anxious to get back to Marissa. “Doctor, er—”

“Spencer. Adam Spencer. I saw your wife this morning.”

Ian's interest was renewed. “They assured me that she was fine. Is there something I don't know?”

Spencer smiled. “I'm not really sure.”

“What's wrong with her? If the bump was not a bad one, why did you let her up? Why is she—”

“Mr. Tremayne, please. The bump was not bad. And a garrison of soldiers couldn't keep her down once she determined she wanted to be up. But she should watch out for herself.”

“Why is that?”

“Unless I miss my guess, sir, your wife is about two months pregnant.”

Ian stumbled, as if he had been struck.

“You didn't know, I see,” Spencer murmured. “I'm sorry, she surely wanted to tell you herself. Well, she might not have done so. And I'm sure she's still up. She has such an affinity for those children. Maybe it's for the best that I told you. The both of you need some sleep. I hear you've been trying to save the entire city. It can't be done. Get some sleep, Mr. Tremayne. And see that your wife gets some, too.”

Ian nodded, numbed, elated, stunned, all in one. And frightened. He couldn't bear to lose her.

And he knew what the risks were. He'd already lost one wife and child.

“Thanks,” he told Spencer, and he turned and strode through the barrack-like tents that flourished like spring flowers in the once green park.

He got lost once, turning into a large tent where a number of the elderly had been brought. He realized that he was exhausted. He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. He started out again.

Marissa. He wanted to throttle her. Shake her and throttle her. She was pushing too hard.

And he wanted to hold her. He wanted to crush her against him and hold her forever.

He was too tired to throttle or kiss her, he realized, but he kept on going, searching for her.

“Ian!”

He paused, aware that he had headed in the right direction this time because Theo was standing before him. “Ian, 'tis glad I am to see you back. I've managed a few extra blankets, and I've bound two of those army cots together in the rear of the tent—I know she won't leave the children, you see. But there's room for you both to get some rest, and that you must do. You look like hell, boy, if you don't mind me saying so.”

“Thanks,” Ian murmured dryly. “What about you? Where are you going?”

“Oh, I'll be here. There's just a shortage of cots at the moment. I've got the lad, Darrin, set up with blankets inside, and I'll join him. Him and me, we aren't so used to anything too comfortable, you know?”

“Theo, you're not a young man—”

“And don't you go making me an old one. I know you'll fix me up nice and fancy again soon enough. The ground's good enough for me tonight.” His voice grew gruff. “I don't want that niece of mine on the ground, and you're the only one's going to get her to sleep tonight on a cot.”

Ian smiled and clapped Theo on the back. Then he ducked into the tent.

Marissa was just tucking the baby into a makeshift crib. He walked over to her and touched her shoulder. She turned, startled.

“You've done what you can for the little ones tonight, Marissa. They'll need you again in the morning. Come on, now. You've cared for these babies, now give a care to our own.”

Her eyes opened wide. She was surprised that he knew, but he intended to offer no explanations that night, and she was too weary to start demanding them. Indeed, she didn't say a word.

“Marissa, we need some sleep,” he said firmly. He caught her hand and led her to the bed that Theo had made for them.

She was as grime-covered as he. As disheveled, her glorious hair blackened with soot and ash. Tonight none of it mattered.

He swept her up, laid her down and sank beside her. And setting his arm around her, he pulled her against his chest, holding her close.

And there they both slept.

When Marissa woke, she was alone. It was very early, still dark. It must have been about five o'clock. It was almost three days since the quake had struck.

There was activity all around her. The children were up and awake. Darrin was playing with the baby, and Uncle Theo and Bobby were handing out pieces of bread.

Ian was nowhere to be seen.

“He's gone out, Marissa,” Uncle Theo said, stopping by her side with a bucket of milk. “They've fixed one of the main water pipes—there's some water again.”

Even as he spoke, they heard a thunderous explosion, muted by distance, but still painfully clear.

“They're still dynamiting.”

“Dynamite and cannons. They're trying to save the docks. If they can do that, well, then, maybe it will be over,” Uncle Theo said. The city had burned for three days, Marissa thought. What could be left?

“Come on, lass. We need to get these little ones fed. They're going to be ferried over to Oakland this afternoon.”

She smiled, because she could tell he wanted her to. Inside she felt a wall of misery building. San Francisco was nearly gone. These poor children would be lost.

And after she had helped to get something into them, she learned from Bobby how bad matters really were. Some of the streets were empty now. The magnificent Palace Hotel had burned, despite all the planning and care that had gone into it. Great mansions on Nob Hill had burned. The fire-fighters, too busy to deal with those already lost, had been told to cast the deceased into the flames of the burning buildings.

The Barbary Coast had burned, along with its Dead Man's Alley, Murder Point and Bull Run Alley.

Some thought it for the best.

There was a fear of the rats. Doctors were warning people that they could be looking toward an epidemic of bubonic plague.

But until the fire was put out, that had to be the primary concern.

Within an hour, the children were all off on the ferry, except for the baby. Marissa had decided to keep her until her parents could claim her. She was so very little. And she had finally offered Marissa a tenuous smile, and that smile had nearly broken Marissa's heart. Dr. Spencer had seen to it that she had proper milk for the little girl, whom she had decided to call Francesca.

There were many births there, in the open air, and at the hospital barracks at the Presidio, she heard. And many parents were naming their children after the circumstances, names as wild as Golden Gate, San Francisco and Presidio.

Francesca, the feminine of the saint after which the city had been named, did not seem so bad.

Darrin was with her. Darrin still wouldn't leave her, and Marissa was glad of it. She didn't know what the future would bring, but she wanted the boy to be loved and cared for. Surely, Ian would allow her to bring Darrin home.

If they had a home.

She was vaguely wondering about the fate of their house when Darrin returned from a trip for milk. “Marissa,” he told her, accustomed at last to using her given name, “the lady from the, er—from the Barbary Coast is here. The one who helped find you. And she was hurt awful bad.”

“Lilli?” Marissa said, startled.

Darrin took the baby and showed Marissa the way. She hurried to the tent. One of the newly arrived nurses pointed her toward a cot in the rear, and she hurried toward it.

Then she froze, for the cot was empty.

“Oh, my God!” The cry of horror escaped her in a whisper. Lilli was dead.

Lilli might have been the best friend she had in San Francisco.

Then someone touched her shoulder, and she turned. It was a gnarled, ugly man, but he had interesting eyes. “You're Mrs. Tremayne.”

“Yes. Yes, I was—looking for Lilli.”

“The doctor is seeing to her, changing her bandage.”

“Oh! Oh, thank God! She's going to make it?”

Even as she spoke, a nurse came in, leading a heavily bandaged Lilli to her bed. Most of her face was swathed. Marissa hurried forward, nodding to the nurse. “Lilli, it's me, Marissa Tremayne. I'll help her,” she told the nurse.

The nurse was busy and glad to hand Lilli over to Marissa. “Marissa!” Lilli murmured softly. She touched her face. “You're here, and well. I'm glad for you. For you and Ian.”

“You're going to be fine, too, Lilli.”

She sat Lilli down on the cot. Lilli groped for something, and the ugly little man took her hand. “I'm going to live, yes. But I'm going to be horribly scarred.” She laughed softly. “And in my business … oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.”

“You haven't offended me, Lilli. I just feel that you—that you deserve better!” she said softly.

And Lilli laughed, squeezing her hand. “I'm going to get better, Marissa. Seems it took a fire and a dreadful burning to find out that Jake here loves me. And he's been saving every penny I ever paid him. He's going to marry me, and I'm going to set up regular housekeeping. Of course, we'll never have respectability. No one will ever call on me. San Franciscans have long memories. But I'm staying. I am a San Franciscan.”

“Oh, Lilli, I am so very glad!” Marissa said. “And someone will call on you. I will call on you.”

Very little of Lilli's mouth showed, but her smile was radiant. “I believe that you will. But I think that you should hurry back now. When I was being bandaged, I heard all kinds of shouting and excitement. I think they quelled the fire on the docks.” She was quiet, then added with exasperation, “Ian will be coming back.”

“You knew that he—went out?”

“He came to see me last night and this morning,” Lilli said. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Marissa! He loves you. He's just the kind of man who doesn't forget old friends, even when they are scarred and ruined and hideous.”

“Lilli, you'll never be hideous,” Marissa told her. She rose and very gently kissed the top of her head. She turned to Jake. “Congratulations!” she told him.

And then she hurried out.

People were shouting. Crying out, jumping up and down. A stranger suddenly swung his arms around her. “They beat it! They beat the fire! Seven-fifteen exactly, they say. They beat the fire from the piers around East Street, and beat it back to the area south of the Slot! Where it was born, lady, there it died! The fire is out!”

Stumbling, she hurried to the tent where she had spent the night.

And as Lilli had suspected, Ian was back.

His face was nearly as black as his pants and the boots that he wore, but he was talking to Uncle Theo and doing so animatedly. His teeth and eyes flashed handsomely against all the darkness around him.

Then he turned and saw her.

It was over, she thought. It was true. The fire had died, and it was really over. She lost all thoughts of inhibition, and she cried out and raced over to him.

She saw his brow shoot up and for a moment she was afraid. So afraid that he would not open up his arms to accept her. But he did. She flung herself against him, and she found herself lifted and held, held so very close.

And then he gently let her slide down against his body.

“It's out?” she whispered.

“Pray God it stays out,” he said.

She heard a motion behind her and turned to see that Jimmy and Mary were standing behind Theo with Darrin and little Francesca.

“I think that we should give these two a moment alone—” Mary began.

“Oh, no, no, no, wait, just wait a little minute,” Ian said. His arms remained around Marissa.

“I think you've all been wondering and waiting. All the time that I was gone … and then nothing seemed to matter while the fire burned. But as long as we're all gathered here now, we should discuss a few things.”

Jimmy cleared his throat. “We were guilty, Mr. Tremayne. Just as guilty as Marissa. More so. She'd have never done what she done if she hadn't loved Mary so much like a sister.”

“Yes, you are guilty,” Ian agreed flatly. “All of you. And you made me guilty of fraud, taking all that money. So here's what we're going to do.”

Marissa felt a cold chill sweep over her even as he held her. A fear as icy as the fire had been hot. She fought it desperately. Lilli had said that he loved her, and Lilli knew him well. And he had cared, she knew that he had cared. Last night he had insisted on holding her while she slept …

Last night he had known about the child.