Rescuing the Heiress (12 page)

“Yes.”

When she raised tear-filled eyes to him, sighed and took a step closer, he gave in and opened his arms to embrace her.

Tess slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.

There they stood, out in the open in full view of what was left of San Francisco, and Michael didn't care a whit what anyone else thought. The only thing he really dreaded was the next few moments when he knew he'd have to force himself to leave her. How could he act nonchalant when he was dying inside at the mere thought of it?

Tess seemed to sense his emotional withdrawal because she leaned away enough to look up at him. “What will you do now? You said your station was destroyed. Where will you go to work?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Michael replied. “I was on my way to find Chief Sullivan and get new orders for Station #4 when Annie waylaid me. He's a good man. If anyone can coordinate this fight and win it, Dennis Sullivan can.”

“I saw a lot of water running down the streets,” Tess said. “Will there be enough left in the main lines to put out the fires?”

“I don't know.” Michael gazed into her lovely face, ignoring the smudges on her cheeks and the tangles in her flyaway hair.

Sadly, he understood far more about what was happening than Tess did. He might never see her again. Might never have another chance to bend lower and kiss her.

Even if she slapped his face for taking such liberties it would be worth it to try, he decided. Then if he had to enter eternity this very day, he could do so remembering the sweet taste of her lips.

He gently threaded his fingers through her long hair and cradled the back of her head. She was staring at him as if she yearned for what he was about to do. At least he thought so.

Slowly, as if handling fragile porcelain, Michael canted his head to the side and felt her arms tightening around his waist.

The brush of her warm, soft lips against his sent a shock wave through him like lightning arcing over the bay during a violent storm. His emotions became the ocean waves, his heart the pounding surf.

He sensed Tess rising on tiptoe to prolong their kiss, deepening and intensifying it until they were both left breathless.

When he finally set her away by grasping her shoulders, he could tell that she was every bit as staggered, as overcome with emotion, as he was. “I'm…”

Tess reached up and pressed her fingertips over his
mouth to silence him. “Don't spoil it by saying you're sorry, Michael. Please don't.”

He kissed the fingers caressing his lips then grasped her wrist and placed a second kiss in her palm before closing her hand. “There. Keep that one for whenever you feel lonely.”

“I am always lonely when you're not with me,” Tess said, unshed tears glistening.

Afraid to reply for fear he might disgrace himself by weeping openly, he put an arm around her shoulders and ushered her closer to where the horse waited.

He bunched the reins before handing them to her. “There was quite a gathering of refugees in Union Square but I think it would be wiser for you to press on as far as Golden Gate Park to be farther from danger. Wait for me there. I'll find you.”

“When?” Tess whispered. “How soon?”

“I don't know.”

Placing one more quick kiss on her lips, he whirled and loped off, dreading the incontrovertible fact that his life might be required of him that very day and he might never again lay eyes on the woman he loved.

He already ached for her, for the precious moment they had just shared and for the days and years that lay ahead. If God took him in the line of duty, how would she cope with that loss? For that matter if something happened to Tess while he was otherwise occupied fighting fires or taking part in rescue operations, how could he ever forgive himself?

His eyes burned. His throat was raw. With tears
coursing down his cheeks and clouds of smothering smoke making him cough and gasp for air, he increased his pace.

At that instant, he wasn't sure whether he was running toward his duty or away from the overwhelming urge to give in and return to Tess while he still could.

I
f Tess had not kept thinking about Michael and their all-too-brief kiss, she might have found it harder to cope with the sights and sounds and smells surrounding her.

Seated in the buggy, Annie and Rose clung to each other while Tess led the horse carefully, slowly through the ruins of the city and headed toward the enormous, rectangular park that lay between Fulton Street and Lincoln Way.

A pall still hung over the populace, although many people seemed to be snapping out of it. Here and there she actually heard laughter and spied children running and playing despite what had occurred. Youngsters were the most resilient survivors, of course, because they didn't truly comprehend the enormity of such a widespread disaster.

Tess could understand the intense emotional conflict the adults were experiencing. Part of her wanted to break down and sob while another part urged her to smile and perhaps even celebrate life.

There were many unfortunate souls who could not rejoice in their circumstances the way she and her companions could, and those people were to be pitied. However, even the worst losses couldn't negate the thankfulness of personal endurance and survival. To deny being grateful for that would be like questioning God's sovereignty.

There was a newly built decorative stone wall around the northeast corner of Golden Gate Park. Bypassing that, Tess worked her way into the park proper and stopped the buggy beneath the arching branches of a slim eucalyptus.

Quite a few larger, more substantial trees, such as cypress and pines, had actually been toppled by the quake, making her glad she hadn't been parked under any of them then. Nor would she take such a chance with those that remained upright—or with the monuments honoring President Garfield, Francis Scott Key and others.

Tying the reins loosely around the trunk of the sapling, she gave the trusty horse a pat and returned to her passengers.

“I think we'd better use the buggy to stake out our space,” Tess said, “before so many others arrive that we're all jammed in together and have no privacy.” Studying the gathering multitude and fearing the worst, she pressed her lips together.

“Will we be safe here?” Annie asked as she jumped to the ground and reached back with Tess to assist her mother.

“I think so. If there are too many more shocks we can always move over to the tennis courts. Since we have no idea how long we'll have to stay here, I think grass will make the best carpet.”

“What about finding a doctor for Mama?” the maid asked.

“I'll see to that. You two stay here and guard our supplies while I scout around.”

“Alone?” Annie's eyes widened. “You can't just go wandering off by yourself. What would your papa say?”

“Hopefully, he'd realize that I have a brain of my own and know how to use it,” Tess replied, managing a smile. Now that they were ensconced among survivors and no longer had to keep looking upon the death and mayhem that lay beyond the boundaries of the park, she was feeling a definite sense of relief.

Little wonder that sounds of happy conversation and more playful children were so prevalent here, Tess thought. Although this situation was no cause for celebration it was, nonetheless, plenty of reason to give thanks. They were alive and well. And many thousands of other citizens were sharing that blessing, as well.

Given the alternative, it was perfectly natural to be joyous. After all, the worst was probably over and as soon as the firemen doused the fires they could all begin to restore life as it had been mere hours before.

Looking around her, Tess was struck by the uplifting sense of camaraderie and shared experience. Praise be to God they had found and rescued Annie's mother
and knew that Michael's was safe and sound atop Nob Hill.

Other than Michael, whom she would always worry about no matter what, that left only her father to cause her a bit of concern. It was foolish to worry much about her father. Gerald Clark knew most of the important men in town as well as in state government, thanks to his financial status. If he had a problem, he could always call upon the mayor or even the troops that were stationed at the Presidio.

But Michael? Now that was a different story. Pausing, Tess scanned her surroundings, shaded her eyes and peered into the distance. Little smoke was visible to the north where the sea entered the bay. The Pacific shore lay down the hill, directly to the west, and the bulk of the bay was east, past the city proper.

What's left of the city, that is,
she reflected, once again lamenting the terrible loss of life.

Papa would be more concerned with damage to property, of course, and she could see marvelous chances for him to eventually put some of his money to good use rebuilding the city he loved.

They could even open their home to refugees the way he'd suggested, she added, pondering possible ways to provide hot meals without endangering the house by lighting cooking fires before the chimneys were properly inspected.

Dodging wagons and pedestrians, Tess quickened her steps. She would first check the nearby clubhouse to see if there was medical assistance available inside. If not,
perhaps someone there would be able to direct her to a doctor for Rose.

Thinking of the older woman's narrow escape made bile rise in Tess's throat. If they had been a few minutes later, Annie's mother would surely have burned to death in the splintered ruins of her home.

“And if I hadn't listened to Michael and let him use
his
horse, we would probably have arrived too late to save the poor woman.”

That sobering thought settled in Tess's heart and mind like a boulder. Michael again. Always Michael.

A sudden yearning to be with the gallant fireman filled her so thoroughly she felt dizzy. A nearby slatted wooden bench offered temporary respite and she quickly availed herself of it.

Seated with her elbows on her knees, her hands pressed over her face, she closed her eyes and began to pray for the man she loved, focusing more than she'd ever thought possible and shedding silent tears for the life she feared they might never have a chance to share.

 

For Michael, the trek to the fire station on Bush Street seemed to take forever. When he arrived and saw the pile of bricks from the collapsed chimney of the California Hotel lying atop the smashed firehouse, he gaped, then grabbed the arm of the nearest passing fireman and insisted on being informed of the station's status.

“There ain't no station, if that's what you're meanin'.”

“What about the chief engineer? Where's he?”

“On his way to the hospital, if any of 'em are still standing. Sullivan's quarters collapsed with him and his wife inside. She's okay but the chief fell all the way through to the basement and ended up scalded by a ruptured steam pipe from the boiler. He's alive but it don't look good.”

“Then who's in charge?”

“Beats me. Battalion Chief Walters said that we should just stand by till he decides what to do. He said he was gonna drive around and see what was going on if he could get his buggy through these streets. And I ain't seen hide nor hair of acting Chief Dougherty since before the quake.”

“What about survivors? Who's helping them?”

“Don't know. You volunteerin'?”

“Could be. I know where there's a spare horse and buggy we could use.” Michael hesitated and clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Will you be all right?”

“I ain't never gonna be all right again and that's a fact.” The dusty fireman shook his head and wiped his sooty eyes. “Maybe this is Armageddon.”

“I don't think so,” Michael said, “but time will tell. If we get more shakes, be sure you and the others are in the clear.” He eyed what was left of the once-thriving California Hotel. “There are still enough bricks hanging on up there to do plenty more harm if they fall.”

“Don't know that I care much at this point,” the young man said. “Seems unfair for the best chief we ever had to die right when we need him the most.”

“I thought you said he was still alive.”

“I did. But I saw the burns and I wouldn't wish sufferin' like that on my worst enemy. He ain't gonna make it. No way.”

“That's up to the Almighty,” Michael said.

Snorting, he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “This shouldn't of happened. No, sir.”

Michael had no ready rebuttal because he didn't understand, either. No one could. If the earth had trembled a few hours earlier he would have been the one tending to the horses and he might easily have been killed instead of poor O'Neill.

His breath caught. What if the quake had come while Tess was still at the opera? He hadn't seen the edifice himself but he'd heard that it was in shambles. The loss of life the evening before, when Caruso had been performing for a packed house, would have been catastrophic. Those who had not been killed outright would probably have been trampled to death by others who were trying to escape.

The notion that Tess could have been caught in that tempest of human agony cut him to the core.

“But she wasn't. She's safe,” he reminded himself firmly. “And I have work to do.”

His mind was spinning. Where to begin without proper leadership? Who was going to take over and manage the manpower and equipment the various departments had left? He didn't have the rank or authority to do so no matter how much he wished he could.

Until Battalion Chief Walters returned or acting Chief Dougherty instituted some kind of overall battle plan, it looked as if he was as much on his own as the gangs of men who were wandering the streets and stopping to pull survivors from the wreckage at random.

That was a worthy goal, at least for now, Michael decided. Speaking to the fireman he'd just encouraged, he explained, “Union Square is filled to overflowing. I'm going to go get a wagon and start hauling the injured and elderly over to Golden Gate Park. When Walters or Dougherty get here, tell them Company D only lost one man that we know of, but we have no usable equipment. We'll need a new assignment.”

“All right. If I see 'em I will. Who knows whether Walters'll even make it back?”

“He has to,” Michael insisted, looking into the distance and seeing clouds of billowing smoke and a telltale reddish glow. “If somebody doesn't take charge soon we could lose the whole city.”

The other man gave a guttural laugh. “If you ask me, she's already a goner. We got no communication, no alarm system, and half the hydrants are dry. Cisterns the same way. The ones that've got water are so full of garbage they're 'bout useless, or so I hear.”

“All we can do is make the best of whatever we have,” Michael said. “I'll stop by later and see if there's any plan of action yet.”

And in the meantime,
he told himself as he turned and started to jog toward the park,
I'll be able to check on Tess again when I commandeer her rig.

He knew there were plenty of other conveyances he could appropriate but he wasn't about to do so. No, sir. Not when this plan included seeing his beloved Tess once more.