Into the Whirlwind (12 page)

The newsboy strode on, and Mollie scrutinized the paper. “Look here,” she said excitedly. “They have a column announcing
the names of people who have been reported lost. I wonder if Sophie’s name is here.”

Zack scanned the page. Sure enough, two columns of names had been printed: one of people who were missing, and the other of children who had been found and where they could be located. Sophie’s name was not on the list, but doubtless that list was going to swell into the hundreds, perhaps thousands, within the next day or two.

“I’ll need to report Sophie,” Mollie said, “but Canal Street is so far, and I need to find food and water first.”

“Mollie, come home with me now,” he said. “The fire didn’t jump the river, and that means I’ve got a home with plenty of food and fresh water. Come home with me.”

But Mollie still stared at the newssheet as though it were Scripture handed down from on high. “Look at this! It says here that the Judson Furniture Factory has been burned out, but they are setting up at a warehouse on Wentworth Avenue, and employees may report to work on Wednesday morning, 9 a.m.” She clasped the sheet of paper to her chest and looked out at the distance, the weak light of the morning shining in her face. “Just think!” she said on a trembling breath. “If the train with my equipment made it out of the city on time, there is no reason I can’t swing right back into action, too. The Judson family will be making furniture again at this time tomorrow morning.
This time tomorrow morning
that company is going to be making furniture! Can you believe it?”

Zack didn’t know if she was the bravest or most foolish woman in all of Chicago. In the wake of the fire, demand for furniture would be fierce, but for pricey diamond-encrusted pocket watches? Still, he would be a monster if he said anything to dim the hope blooming on Mollie’s face. Her smile was a gleaming flash of white in her soot-stained face. She had
just been clobbered with a cataclysmic tragedy, and rather than whining about what she had lost, her practical little brain was already working double time to repair the damage.

She was magnificent. She could literally walk through fire and emerge stronger than before. He cupped Mollie’s face between his palms and tilted it to look up at him. Her face was dirty and her eyes red from grit—and Zack knew he looked no better—but she was precious to him and he wanted her to know that.

“Mollie, I’m coming back for you. Don’t leave the church. I need to be able to find you again.”

She dropped her gaze but made no move to shrug away from his hands as he held her face. “The satchels with your parents’ papers,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure they get them back.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” he said. “I’ll be coming back because I meant what I said last night. About my . . . inconvenient feelings for you. They haven’t gone away.” Such familiarity on a public street in the middle of the morning was shocking, but none of the rules applied anymore. He leaned over and kissed her mouth, holding her face between his palms. She made no move to push him away, and he kissed each of her cheeks, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You taste like soot, woman.”

She laughed, and he impulsively swept her up into a bear hug. To his amazement, she returned his embrace, wrapping her arms around the top of his back. She felt custom-made to fit perfectly against him. They were alive, and they were going to survive, and someday soon they would thrive again. With Hartman’s a smoking rubble, Zack was probably out of a job, but he still had his brain and a strong back. If nothing else, there would be plenty of manual labor needing to be done in the coming months.

“We’re going to be okay, Mollie,” he whispered in her ear.
Her arms tightened around him, and he didn’t want this moment to end. “I’m coming back for you.”

And within his embrace, he felt her nod in agreement. They had just been through the worst two days imaginable, but Zack’s heart soared.

8

T
he next few days would be etched in Mollie’s memory as a curious blend of exhaustion and euphoria. Upon returning to the church, she met Sandra Rutter, the woman who had been crying in the darkness the previous evening. Waddling through the rubble with her hand protecting her protruding belly, it was obvious Sandra had good cause to be terrified. “I am about a week overdue,” she told Mollie. “This is my first baby, and I’ve been a little tense, even before the fire.”

At least Sandra had somewhere to go. Her husband had already set off to see if he could find a way to get to Lexington, where Sandra had family.

The city distributed a few supplies for clearing rubble, and Mollie used a shovel to clear away broken glass and the charred remnants of the church pews, shoveling until blisters were worn into the palms of her hands. Clearing the church had been an instinctive reaction. All signs indicated that she was going to be homeless for a good long while, and the church was as good a place as any to seek shelter. When Mollie was too exhausted to heft another load, she sat beside Frank and read him every line of the newssheet. Sophie leaned against her, disappointed her name was not among the children listed as missing. “Perhaps
your parents didn’t know newspapers were publishing the names of lost children,” Mollie said. “We’ll keep checking every issue.”

One of the other refugees in the church was Andrew Buchanan, a dentist with the widest handlebar mustache Mollie had ever seen. The dentist found a broom and swept a portion of the nave clear before setting out his dental equipment. He propped a sign outside the church offering dental services. “People still need work on a bad tooth, even after a fire,” he said.

When no one showed up for Dr. Buchanan’s dental services, he cheerfully joined them in lugging boulders into the piles that were forming on the street. As the afternoon wore on, the fifteen people working inside the church had cleared the worst of the rubble away. They divided the area up into living spaces, with Dr. Buchanan taking the east side of the nave and Sandra Rutter asking for a spot beside Mollie and Frank. “Just until my husband returns with train tickets to Lexington,” she said as she gingerly lowered herself to the ground.

Ralph Coulter was a lumber dealer who’d managed to watch his only ship sail safely out of port while the fire raged, although he had been unable to rescue his storage facility. He asked for a spot near the front of the church. “I can put a sign out and take orders from there. People will be in need of lumber,” he said.

Throughout the work, a curious sense of exhilaration filled Mollie. Never had she made friends as quickly as she did with the other refugees while they cleared the church. Her back ached, the blisters on her feet were getting worse, and it was hard to ignore the hunger pangs, but everyone was determined to get this church cleared and remain in good spirits while they did it. Perhaps tomorrow they would start enumerating their losses, but for today, it felt right to laugh as they made the open-air church into a makeshift home.

Sometime during the afternoon, a wagon laden with bread
and apples lumbered down the street. Mollie set the shovel down and gestured to Sophie. “Come on. Let’s get in line for something to eat. You can help me carry things back.”

“You go get it,” Sophie said. “I’m too tired to go.” The little girl remained perched atop a mound of rocks that had been piled against the wall of the church.

“Then I’m sure you’ll be too tired to eat what I bring back,” Mollie snapped. She had no experience with children, but surely this child was extraordinary in her insolence.

The dentist was far more even-tempered. He twisted the curl of his handlebar mustache with a broad smile on his face. “Not to worry, little Miss Sophie,” he said amiably. “We’ll turn your portion over to Mrs. Rutter for the baby to eat.”

The outrage clouding Sophie’s face was comical. “That baby can’t eat yet! It’s still in Mrs. Rutter’s tummy and doesn’t deserve to eat anything.” Her tirade bounced off the walls of the church, causing everyone’s head to swivel in her direction. Mollie took a step toward the girl.

“Everyone in this church has been working for hours except you,” she said. “Even Frank has helped, and he is blind. The men have all been doing hard manual labor while you’ve braided your hair a dozen times. Now, hop down and help me carry the food back to the church.”

Sophie’s lower lip jutted in mutiny as she scrambled down to follow Mollie. There was a huge cluster of people gathering around the wagon, but it was amazing how orderly people were as they awaited their turn.

A big, brassy red-headed woman in the bed of the wagon handed out the food. She had a hearty smile and radiated energy as she handed over sack after sack of apples and bread to the weary, soot-stained refugees.

“You look too clean to have been in the fire,” Sophie told her.

The woman smiled. “Clever girl,” she said. “I am from Milwaukee.” Mollie’s brows shot up in amazement, but the woman had not quit speaking. “I came with my husband, who is a Milwaukee firefighter. On Sunday night, the mayor of Chicago sent telegrams to all the surrounding cities, asking for help. We loaded our fire engines on a train and got here Monday night. The fire was still burning, but there was nothing we could do without the water pumps working. At least we can help pass out food today.”

A lump filled Mollie’s throat as she accepted a bag of apples. “Thank you for coming from so far away. It means a lot to us.”

“Fire crews came from Indianapolis and St. Louis too,” the redheaded woman said. “People from all over the country are sending help. Don’t you fret, ma’am. This city will be back up on her feet in no time.”

Returning to the church, Mollie sat with Frank and Sophie on the front steps to devour the apples and some of the bread. From here she could see dozens of people scrambling through the streets. Already piles of tumbled-down bricks and granite block were being mounded up in order to clear the streets. Rumor had it the city was going to send in wagons to collect the rubble and dump it into Lake Michigan. For years there had been talk of filling in a portion of the harbor, and it looked like that rubble would be put to good use.

“It makes sense,” Frank said. “I only wish I could do more to help.”

Mollie swallowed. For a man of Frank’s pride, the previous day of being led about by the hand had been a bitter pill. Even now, there was little Frank could do other than try to stay out of the way as the debris was cleared. No matter how brilliant his mind, the only skill that was desperately needed right now was a strong back and a pair of hands that could hoist away rubble.

“I expect there will be plenty of legal work soon,” Mollie said. “Everyone in the city will need to file insurance claims, but how can they even prove that they had a policy? Or document what they have lost?”

Frank straightened a bit. Even though his pale gray eyes were useless, Mollie could see every flicker of emotion as he weighed the problem. “Good point, Mollie-girl. I expect a bunch of insurance companies will go under because of this. And lining up to make a claim against a bankrupt insurance company is something that will require the expertise of an attorney.”

Mollie’s mouth went dry. Her building and equipment were fully insured with the Old Chicago Insurance Company, but that company did business with hundreds of companies in Chicago. If everyone filed a claim at once, it would bankrupt her insurance company. She tried to keep the despair from her voice. “Yes, I expect there will be plenty of legal work soon.”

“What did I hear about that dentist putting a sign outside the church advertising his services? Perhaps I should do the same.”

“I can find out where he got the paint and make a sign for you.”

When Frank smiled, it transformed his entire face. “Free legal advice,” he said. “It is important that everyone knows it is free. I wouldn’t feel right taking money when I’ll be living off charity for the next few weeks.” He took a large bite of his apple and had a hard time chewing because he was smiling so broadly. Within the space of sixty seconds, the prospect of having something useful to do had transformed Frank from a broken cripple into a man with a mission.

There was a commotion from behind them as Andrew Buchanan came bursting out of the church, his face pale beneath the soot. “Come quickly, Mollie! Mrs. Rutter’s water has broken.”

The dentist looked terrified as he wrung his hands, and
Mollie realized with sickening clarity that she was the only other adult woman taking shelter in the church. She swallowed hard and shot to her feet. “Sophie, help Frank get back inside,” she said as she hurried to follow Dr. Buchanan. The light was starting to dwindle inside the walls of the church, but Sandra Rutter was sitting on the steps of the chancel, her face white with fear.

Mollie rushed to her side, placing her arm around Sandra’s back. The woman was trembling like a frightened mouse. “Is it true?” Mollie whispered. “Your water has broken?”

Sandra was so tense she was barely able to nod. Her husband had not yet returned from his quest to find train tickets out of town. Not that Mrs. Rutter could travel at this point. This baby was going to be delivered in a burned-out church, and there was no help for it. The dentist hovered nearby, and Mollie glanced over to where he had laid his dental equipment on a clean towel. “I think you probably have the most medical training of anyone here,” she said.

“I’ve never delivered a baby! Until eighteen months ago, I made pillows for a living!”

“Where did you get your dental degree?” Mollie asked.

“The Ohio College of Dental Surgery,” he said weakly.

Mollie walked over to the area where the dentist had laid out his equipment in preparation for his nonexistent customers. She picked up a towel and a bar of soap and slapped them into his hand.

“Make them proud,” she said firmly.