It Happened at the Fair (24 page)

The shovels stopped. Those hauling rubble paused. All movement suspended as the chief climbed over hills and vales to reach Cullen’s side.

When he did, Cullen pointed.

The chief’s drooping mustache looked as if a frozen frown had been painted on his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m so sorry,” Cullen rasped, tears streaking his cheeks.

The chief looked at him. “What’s your name, son?”

“Cullen McNamara. I work in the booth next to John Ransom.”

“Are you the one with the automatic sprinkler?”

Cullen blinked. “Yes, sir.”

The chief nodded. “John went on and on about that thing. I’ve been meaning to go over and see it. I just haven’t had the time.”

Cullen had no words. He had no idea John had mentioned him or his exhibit. Looking away, he swiped his nose with his sleeve.

The chief placed a steadying hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “There’s no need for you to do this.”

“Please, sir. I want to help.”

After a brief hesitation, he nodded, then turned to the ambulance corps and signaled for them to bring a stretcher.

Fifteen minutes later, another body was found. More turned up at frequent intervals until eight more were recovered. When nightfall came, the chief called a halt to all work and was met with protest.

“It’s too dangerous,” he said. “I’ll not risk any more injury. We need to wait until it’s light.”

Much of the volunteer help tapered off after that day, but Cullen reported to the disaster site at first light morning after morning. He’d been working from can-see to can’t-see his entire life, much of that time with closed airways and swollen eyes. He figured that pretty well qualified him for the job.

“Don’t you have an exhibit to man?” the chief had asked. “Seems to me after a big fire like this, you’d garner a lot of interest in that sprinkler of yours.”

Whether the chief was right or not, Cullen would never know, because for now, he knew the support these men needed. As much as he’d wanted to help with the mill fire, he couldn’t fathom having to wonder if the bones he uncovered were those of his beloved mother. Yet in a way, that’s what these men had been asked to do, and he wouldn’t leave it to them alone. It was his one opportunity to pay tribute to those who had done this task for him so many years ago. If it meant a missed opportunity in Machinery Hall, so be it.

Still, the task was the most difficult he’d ever faced. Yet as is often the case, an unexpected blessing came with it. He became close to a fraternity of men who risked their lives every day for people they’d never met and would likely never see again. And though Cullen wasn’t one of them, they welcomed him into their brotherhood nonetheless.

“Della, Hilda, and Maxine held exhibitor passes, yet they stood in line and purchased daily admission tickets to the fair.”

ROLLING CHAIR

CHAPTER

25

Della, Hilda, and Maxine held exhibitor passes, yet they stood in line and purchased daily admission tickets to the fair, for today had been designated as a memorial for the men who perished in the fire. As part of Firemen’s Sunday, all receipts at the gates were to be added to an ongoing relief fund for the families of the victims.

ADMISSION TICKET

Della had reverted to touring the fair with her coworkers ever since Cullen began volunteering at the disaster site. She wondered if the men would take a break from their labors today or if they’d continue to work. Either way, Cullen had not made any attempt to take up his lessons again. He’d slipped a note under her door saying he didn’t know how long cleanup would take and he’d let her know when they were finished.

“Was there anything in particular you two planned to see?” Della asked, the constant clicking of the turnstile sounding like a watchman’s rattle.

Hilda consulted her notes, her body listing from side to side, her ankles swollen from all the touring she’d done over the past couple of months. Her white hair and labored steps reminded Della of how old her friend was. Funny, but Della had never thought of Hilda as old. But then she’d never done much socializing with her either. Not here, nor at home.

“I believe we’d agreed to eat at the Roof Garden in the Woman’s Building, didn’t we?” Hilda tucked her notes back into her reticule. “A large percentage of their proceeds today are to be added to the relief fund.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Maxine agreed, her black hair carefully tucked inside an old-fashioned snood.

Della cleared her throat. “If it’s all right, I’d like to stop by one of the firehouses and pay my respects. Do we have time to work that in, do you think?”

Maxine shrugged, her black gown stark against her fair skin. “It’s too early for supper just yet, so what if we do that first? Do you know where one is?”

“There are several,” Della answered. “But I’d like to go to the one by the Government Building.”

“What’s so special about that one?” Hilda asked.

Della hesitated. She hated to bring up Cullen. It had become a sore spot between her and Maxine. Her coworker felt Cullen was taking advantage of Della by not paying her, and, worse, Maxine had made some not-so-subtle admonishments about how late Della stayed out every night with a strange man. But then, anyone who stayed out past eight o’clock was “up to no good” by Maxine’s standard.

Still, she’d done nothing wrong. “One of the men who perished was a friend of the man I tutor,” Della answered. “His name was Mr. Ransom, and he was a member of the company that works out of that particular firehouse.”

Maxine flattened her lips. “Not your ‘pupil’ again.”

“Oh, hush.” Hilda tapped Maxine’s arm with her fan. “For heaven’s sake, he just might be our Della’s Prince Charming. Then what will you say to our girl after all the disagreeable things you’ve said about him?”

Della felt herself flush. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Maxine’s disapproval or Hilda’s romantic inclinations. Thank goodness they didn’t know Cullen was staying at Harvell House. Nor did they even know his name. He was an early riser and had long since left before she and the others even made it down to breakfast. And since she and Cullen were usually the last to arrive, her coworkers had never met him, nor had they made the connection between his name on the nightly list and hers.

Maxine lifted her chin. “Well, I for one am glad you’ve come to your senses about him and started spending your time with us. As you well know, I have disliked the way he abused your sense of goodwill. Imagine. All those lessons and not a dime to show for it.”

She sighed. She hadn’t told them why she and Cullen were taking a break, only that they were. “It’s only temporary. I plan to complete what we started in very short order.”

“Well, of course you will.” Hilda gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Maxine pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t. It’s unseemly.”

“Nonsense.” Hilda dabbed her neck with a black handkerchief. “It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

While the women continued to belabor the point, Della directed them toward Fire and Guard Station One. An afternoon thunderstorm had emptied the park and left the serene beauty of the fair beneath a somber pall. The gay banners above the White City’s domes hung limp at half-mast. Crepe dripped in drooping festoons across the buildings, emitting a less-than-pleasant odor.

Picking their way over mud as gray as paint and nearly as sticky, they skirted the lagoon. Deserted gondolas bobbed in protected nooks, their bronzed masters lolling under canopies and singing soft operatic tunes of their homeland. The occasional visitor strolled about statues and monuments as if wandering through a graveyard, their silence contagious. Even the poppies turned their weeping faces to the ground.

When they finally arrived at the firehouse, a brisk wind from the west flapped the crepe draped across its oversized door. Dark streamers hung on all the apparatus inside. A roughened helmet rested atop the hook-and-ladder’s seat, causing Della to miss a step as she wondered if it belonged to the man who’d tossed his helmet from the burning tower. The wagon’s horse gave a long blow, shaking black and white rosettes fastened to its harness.

The guard station held a mere fraction of the company, since most of its members had perished during the ordeal. She’d heard it was not uncommon for survivors of such tragedies to struggle with guilt for having survived when they were no more worthy than the fallen men. She wished she could take their pain and bear it herself, but the most she could do was pray for the men and offer her heartfelt sympathy.

A fireman approached. His cheeks were hollow, his brown hair flat, his eyes as black as the scarf tied over his fatigue uniform. “Thank you for coming.”

She swallowed. “I’m so sorry for your losses.”

His red-rimmed eyes took on a sheen. “Thank you.”

“The rain won’t stop people from coming.” Hilda patted his arm with affection.

As if affirming her pronouncement, the wind lapped up the remaining clouds, pushing them out over the lake. Sun burst through in splendid radiance, casting its rays on the White City.

They conversed for a few more minutes, offered their condolences to the other firemen, then dropped donations into a box.

The visit put an end to the gentle bickering between Hilda and Maxine and greatly curbed their usual bent for gossiping.

Within an hour, the turnstiles at every entrance brought in people by the pairs, then by tens, and finally by flocks until guests stacked up against the pay gates.

On the Wooded Island, drenched ducks came out from the protection of the bushes. Peacocks spread their feathers in the sun to dry.

After supper on the roof of the Woman’s Building, they made their way to the ruins of the Cold Storage Building. The dark mass lay in tangled confusion among the white temples around it, its high beauty of six days ago nothing more than a surreal memory. The smell of scorched timbers mixed with the aroma of rain.

Some men labored with shovels, others with gloved hands. Della scanned them, easily spotting Cullen, though he didn’t see her. She was somewhat surprised to see him in shirtsleeves and denims. He looked so different. Only once had she seen him without a jacket. But this was neither the time nor the place to ruminate about that.