Into the Whirlwind (13 page)

Word spread quickly to the people in nearby buildings about Mrs. Rutter’s condition. They brought over pots of water, clean toweling, and a kerosene lantern. Mollie had been praying for
the emergence of a physician, but Andrew Buchanan, dentist and pillow maker, was the best they could do.

And Mrs. Rutter was terrified. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she wept. “I’m going to die in the dirt with my baby.” Nothing Mollie said consoled the woman, but this sort of fear was dangerous. Mrs. Rutter was surrendering to the waves of despair that engulfed her and the pain that was tearing her in two.

Her husband appeared just as the sun was going down, proudly holding aloft two tickets to Lexington. “We can leave first thing in the morning!” he proclaimed as he burst into the church. Sandra, her face bathed with perspiration in the cool autumn evening, turned her head toward her husband with all the anguish in the world in her eyes. “Too late, my darling man,” she said before dissolving into tears.

Mr. Rutter’s face went white. “I see,” he said softly.

He knelt beside his wife, taking the cloth from Mollie’s hand. “We can do this,” he murmured softly. “I don’t know why these tragedies have befallen us so quickly, but the Lord has not abandoned us, and He will see us through this night.” As he stroked his wife’s brow with the damp cloth, the tension eased from her face.

Everyone in the church stayed awake as Mrs. Rutter labored through the night. She lay propped against her husband’s chest as he rocked her gently, hour after hour. “The Lord is beside us tonight,” he said. He pressed his cheek against his wife’s hair and murmured the words softly. “Can you feel him, Sandra? He is walking alongside you and bathing you and our baby with the light of His love. Undying, unending love. ”

Within the circle of the kerosene lantern, it seemed such an intimate thing to witness, but there was no room for privacy or embarrassment. Mollie was mesmerized. Such an abundance of loving care Mr. Rutter showered onto his wife.

It made her wish Zack were there. How strange that ever since his bold declaration of his feelings, she could not stop thinking about him. The crisis of the fire had forged them together in a common mission, but the longing she felt for him was based on more than that. For the first time she was able to see him as a man. A bold, confident man who was protective of those within his care. He was loving toward his parents and had accompanied her into a literal firestorm. He had been very decent to Sophie, even though the girl was a holy terror. The fire burned away the trappings and revealed the true character of a man, and her instincts told her that Zack Kazmarek was a good one. In proper time, they would untangle the mess the deed had caused, but for now she desperately craved his comfort. His humor and his strength. Watching the way Mr. Rutter tended his wife made her miss Zack even more.

Poor Andrew Buchanan looked as white and limp as a sheet of wet paper, but he stood bravely ready to assist as Mrs. Rutter’s time drew near. Three hours past midnight, the squalling cries of a baby boy broke the stillness of the night.

“Hello, baby Joshua,” Sandra said on a shaky breath as the dentist placed the infant in her arms. In the coming hours, everyone in the church stepped forward to admire the red-faced baby. People taking shelter in nearby buildings had been listening as well and came to offer their best wishes upon hearing the cries of the infant.

Mollie rejoined Frank where he leaned against the side of the wall. A wistful smile hovered on his face. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed,” he said simply.

Mollie nodded. “Me too.”

9

M
ollie would never forget the joy that surged through her when Zack Kazmarek came striding through the ruined streets toward the church. He had come back!

It had been three days since he had left on that cold morning outside the church, and she wondered if his impassioned words were motivated only by the overheated emotions the crisis had aroused. But here he was, carrying a sack of food and wearing a grin that made her weak in the knees. With his rugged work clothes and chipped-tooth grin, he was the handsomest man in the world. His enthusiastic bear hug ought to have cracked her ribs but only made her laugh instead.

Within an hour they were arguing like two cats in a gunnysack.

“I can’t believe you are trying to get that watch company back in operation before you have a decent place to sleep,” he growled as he helped her set up a tent inside the nave of the church.

The city had distributed the army surplus tents to the homeless, and they were springing up like mushrooms throughout the burned district. Five tents had been allotted to the refugees taking shelter in the church. They were setting them up within the church walls to take advantage of the protection from the wind.

Mollie unfolded the scratchy wool fabric to assess its size. “I can’t rest easy until I find a space to lease for my company,” she said. “I can practically
hear
the spaces for lease getting snapped up, like locusts pouncing on the few scraps of grain left in the fields.”

After reading the newssheets, the magnitude of her problem had become starkly clear. The fire had burned a four-mile path along Lake Michigan that was almost a mile wide. More than a hundred thousand people had been left homeless, and half the businesses in the city had been burned out. People lucky enough to have survived the flames were leasing whatever available space they owned. Basements, attic space, spare bedrooms, even hallways were being offered to those looking for shelter or to reopen a business.

Zack squatted down to stretch the fabric tight. “You won’t even know if you have the materials to go back into business until you go to Evanston to see if the train made it out of the city in time.”

It was true. All of her watchmaking equipment had been loaded onto the train that night. Either it had survived or it hadn’t, but she couldn’t afford the time to travel to Evanston to find out. Her time was best spent finding a clean, well-lit place where she could swing back into business, and desperate people were snapping up those few remaining spaces with each passing hour. How many times had she explained that to Zack? Of course, he had an ulterior motive for wanting her to track down that train.

“If you are so desperate to secure your parents’ belongings, feel free to go hunt them down yourself.”

Zack dropped the tent pole, although it looked as if he’d rather snap it in half over his knee. “I
can’t
leave Chicago now,” he said. “Hartman’s store burned to the ground and is teetering
on the edge of financial disaster unless I can figure out a way to force the insurance companies to make good on our claims.”

She straightened, rubbing her aching back. “We are in perfect agreement,” she said. “Absolute, blinding, perfect agreement. I’m staying here to find rental space, and you can go file your insurance claims.” Although she would prefer he stayed and helped her find rental space. It would be nice to have a man she could lean on, if only for a few hours. Hartman’s might be teetering on the edge, but the 57th had already plunged over, and she needed to climb out of the hole they’d fallen into.

Besides, she rather liked being with Zack. Just knowing this strong, courageous man cared for her was wildly flattering, and he was becoming more attractive to her by the moment. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore. He was a man who had risked his life to save her and walked across three miles of burned-out wasteland to see her.

Two hands settled on her shoulders, and Zack tugged her toward him. He placed a kiss on her forehead before whispering into her ear. “I wish we were in blinding agreement about where you should live. You should be under my roof, woman.”

A shiver raced down her arms, and she hid her smile against the clean white cotton of his shirt. When he was near, the air felt charged with contagious energy, making her feel more alive.

“I don’t like it when grown-ups hug each other,” Sophie said from the corner of the church. “It’s icky.”

Mollie stepped back a pace. As disagreeable as Sophie’s tone was, the girl was correct. This church sheltered a dozen people, and she should not subject them to the sight of her snuggling up to Zack. The Rutters and their new baby would be leaving on tomorrow’s train, but the rest of them would be living in these humble tents for weeks, maybe months.

“Let’s go outside so I can say good-bye properly,” Zack said.

There was no privacy on the street either. With most of the buildings collapsed into mounds of rubble, there was no shadowy corner to withdraw to, so Zack stood with her on the crumbling steps of the church, cradling her face in his big, strong palms. “I don’t know when I can come back,” he said. “The second you get tired of living in a smelly old surplus tent, I want you to come across town to my house.”

Mollie nodded and stepped closer. How safe she felt standing within the circle of his arms and laying her head against his chest, where she could hear the strong beating of his heart. “I heard it the first time you offered,” she said with a smile in her voice. “And the fifth, and the tenth.”

He pinched her cheek. “Such a clever lass. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Why didn’t she just leave with him? When she glanced over at the church, she saw Sophie reading the daily newssheet to Frank while Dr. Buchanan played a game of dice with the lumber merchant. “I’m not sure I can explain it,” Mollie said, “but I feel bonded to these people. I can’t leave to go live in the lap of luxury while they are all stranded here.”

“You can sleep in my root cellar if it would make you feel better.”

A burst of laughter escaped her lips, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. She was falling for this man with each passing minute. “Zack,” she said firmly. “I am staying here. Go file your insurance claims.”

Was it her imagination, or did the landscape seem bleaker after Zack left? After fetching a bucket of water for Mrs. Rutter, Mollie was about to set off on her quest to find rental space when a familiar voice echoed down the street.

“Alas, fair Mollie!” Ulysses called out. “Through fire and rain, through the storms of despair, we have at last come full circle!”

Mollie’s head shot up. The world’s two best gold engravers were walking toward her. “Ulysses!”

Hobbling on a crutch, Ulysses headed toward her with his wife, Alice, and Declan McNabb walking alongside him. Frank recognized the voice too and rose to greet the trio.

A grin split Ulysses’s face as he increased his pace. He clapped Frank on the back, then embraced Mollie. “I feel like Theseus wading through streets of the devastated labyrinth to find the solace of friends in the wilderness.”

“How did you know we were here?” Mollie asked in amazement.

Alice held up a newssheet. “We saw an advertisement you placed about a lost girl living with you. We’ve been taking shelter in the cellar of our house, but it’s hard for a one-legged man to get in and out of a cellar. We figured it would be better to come join you folks at the church, if there is room.”

Mollie glanced at the pair. Alice’s silk Japanese scarf was draped around her shoulders, but it was filthy and dotted with scorch marks. They were both carrying bulging pillowcases. Mollie’s heart sank. “You lost everything, then?”

A sheen of tears pooled in Alice’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “Everything. But we escaped with our lives, and we found Declan the next morning.”

Mollie glanced over at Declan, whose eyes were haunted while the side of his face kept twitching. The war had destroyed this man’s nerves, and the trauma of the fire must have awakened all the old terrors. Thank goodness Alice had found him.

Alice had not stopped speaking. “We told Gunner about you, and he’ll probably be coming too.”

“Come inside and let me show you around our castle,” Mollie joked, placing an arm around Alice to lead her inside.

Mollie’s quick glance around the church confirmed there
would be enough tent space for the newcomers, but her heart was sinking. Even as she was barely keeping her body and spirit together, remnants of the 57th were beginning to gather around her. She would need to find a way to get this company back in action, and soon.

Too many people depended upon her to fail.

Before the fire, Zack’s office had boasted an oriental rug and a hand-carved antique desk of black walnut. Today, he worked on a pine door stretched on top of two sawhorses in the corner of a Chinese laundry. Amidst the kettles of steaming water, indoor drying racks, and the caustic scent of lye, the laundry was an unconventional place to do business, but nothing was ordinary about life in Chicago after the fire.

The door banged open, and Louis Hartman strode in. “Status update,” he barked before coughing from the lungful of detergent and steam. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief. “Of all the places . . . couldn’t you have found one that didn’t reek of lye?”

Zack smiled and rose from the overturned apple crate he’d been using as a seat. “It beats the smell of soot.”

Lines of exhaustion were carved onto Hartman’s unshaven face. Like the homes of many of Chicago’s millionaires, Hartman’s mansion had been reduced to a pile of smoldering ash. Today, it was easy to see Louis’s working-class roots as he wore scuffed boots and a simple cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up instead of a starched collar and a gold watch chain.