Abby pulled back, heart thudding. God. She’s talking about God. Abby pressed her fingers to her lips. “I don’t want Him. I want you.”
Cecelia’s eyes glistened. “Don’t you see? Why can’t you see? Open your eyes!”
“Come back with me.” Abby reached for her sister.
Cecelia took a step further back. “God is not taking me away, Abby. You are the one wandering. Don’t you see? I will always be with you. God will always be with you. But every time we get close, you wander off again.” Tears shone on her cheeks. “You have to stop running.”
Abby pushed hands up into her hair. “How has He helped me? He didn’t heal you. And then the earthquake and the fires—all those people dying. He hasn’t helped anyone.”
Cecelia placed a cooling hand on Abby’s hot, sweaty face. “He loves you more than you can imagine.”
Abby held still, the frantic beating of her heart slowing under Cecelia’s touch.
“God took every step with you today and every day. He knew when you were at the end of your strength and He led you to Kum Yong and Miss Cameron. He sent Robert, Harriet, Lillian, and tiny Sparrow. You have never walked alone. You have never been far from His thoughts. He is calling you now. Don’t you hear Him?”
“But what about you?” Abby placed her hands atop her sister’s. “I don’t want any of those other people. I want you. Why did He take you away from me?”
Some kind of secret delight hid in her smile. “I can’t tell you why. There are some things you will have to wait to learn. But trust me.” Her smile widened as she leaned close, breathing the words into Abby’s ear. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
Abby opened her eyes in the darkness as the knife clattered to the floor.
“You have to stop running.”
Her chest ached. She sat up and gulped a breath of air, fighting tears. Abby lowered her head, staring at her knees. She had kept her vow for so long, it was difficult to know where to begin. “I am angry at you.” The words tumbled out, her voice quavering. “You shouldn’t have taken her away. It would have been easier on Mama and Papa and Davy if you’d taken me.”
The tension grew and her throat squeezed. Abby pushed against her chest, trying to force her heart to stop racing. “I don’t want to be the one left behind. Do you understand? I don’t want to be alone.”
A wave of warmth tickled her face and her breathing slowed. Abby leaned her head back against the wall, tears sliding down her cheeks. “If you are here . . . ” She pressed her fists against her eyes until colored spots floated in the blackness. “If you care enough to be here with me . . . ”
Abby took a deep breath, the pressure in her chest easing. “I guess Cecelia might be right. Maybe I’m not really alone.”
Abby lowered her hands to her knees, palms open. She gazed up toward the ceiling. “I don’t know if I can trust You, completely, God.” A sense of calm tiptoed into her heart. “But, I’m glad You’re here.”
A tiny sprig of joy took root. Abby’s tears flowed freely, like a summer shower washing the clouds after a long drought.
“Thank you for not leaving me.” Abby reached down and touched the journal, sitting beside the basket. It’s what Aunt Mae was trying to show me.
Sparrow slept peacefully, one tiny arm cupped around the side of her head.
Abby stretched her arms and leaned side to side, loosening stiff back muscles. She pulled herself to her knees before clambering to her feet.
At the front of the store, a glowing light drew her attention.
Abby swallowed, hard.
Flames.
43
3:15 a.m.
W hat a waste of time.” Robert ran his fingers across his bristly chin. “The policeman barely took any notes. How does he expect to find her?”
“I don’t believe he does.” Gerald sighed, folding the medical kit under his arm. “Half of the city’s population is probably missing right now.”
Robert squeezed the broken necklace in his fist, the warm metal a tangible memento of Abby’s presence. If only it could lead him to her.
She never took it off—she’d told him so. Why then was it in the bottom-feeder’s grasp? A chill washed over him like the glow from the X-ray tubes. The memory of the man’s jagged wound put his teeth on edge. What must he have done to make her lash out like that?
Robert’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t let his mind go there.
Where was she now?
Her parting words echoed in his ears. You said you wouldn’t leave me. Robert balled the chain in his palm. If something horrible had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
Gerald scanned the shadows of the park. “We can search the grounds again, but in this darkness, we could walk right past and never see her, if she’s even here at all.”
“We have to do something.” Robert ground his jaw, returning the necklace to his pocket. “She may be in God’s hands, but I won’t feel comfortable until we know for certain she’s safe.”
3:25 a.m.
Abby froze in place. Flames licked at the front of the store and thick gray smoke crept along the floor. A gentle tremor rattled the building, sending light fixtures swinging. Abby scooped up Sparrow, pushing toward the back of the building.
A side door led down into a basement room. Abby clambered over fallen shelves, clambering through debris to put distance be-tween them and the smoke. “Sparrow, we have to get out of here.”
Fresh air poured in from a narrow, horizontal window high on the wall. Abby wrapped Sparrow in the towel and tucked her into the basket for safekeeping. Placing it on the floor, she gathered loose boxes and fallen shelves into a pile and scrambled up to the window. She pushed on the sill, but the window refused to budge more than an inch. Abby plucked a loose board from the wreckage, the tottering pile shifting beneath her feet. She smashed the window, splinters of glass flying out into the darkness. Stretching her hands through the gap, her fingers brushed a cold metal pipe. She wrapped her hand around it, trying to pull herself higher.
She’d never fit through the tiny opening. A snake-like wisp of smoke wove its way under the door. There isn’t much time. Sparrow’s mewling cry drew her attention. Abby glanced up at the window. Even if she couldn’t squeeze through, she could get the baby out.
She jumped down from the heap, kneeling beside the basket. Abby reached for the mother’s ring, but her fingers stalled on the empty spot at her throat where the chain normally rested. It’s gone. Her stomach tightened. “I’m sorry, Sparrow.”
She wrapped the blanket tightly around the baby and clambered back up to the window choosing footholds with care. Abby took a last look into the tiny, angry face. “Sparrow, God is watching over you.”
The baby howled in response.
Blinking away stinging tears, Abby eased the squirming bundle through the broken window and into the fresh air outside. The window sat at street level and Abby set her on the ground, pushing her as far away from the building as she could reach, hoping the blanket protected Sparrow from the broken glass.
“Help!” She pressed her face to the opening, rising on her tiptoes. “Help us! I’ve got a baby here!”
Sparrow’s weak cries wafted in through the open window, wrenching at Abby’s heart. Abby pressed herself against the wall, the cool night air filling her lungs. She stretched her fingers, caressing the soft blanket. She banged a fist against the wall. “Please, someone help!”
Abby pressed her forehead to the window frame, her breaths ragged in her chest. “Lord, keep her safe. I don’t care what happens to me, but take care of Sparrow.”
What do I do now? Just sit here and wait for the flames? She glanced back at the door, smoke seeping in through the cracks.
He walks with me.
Abby took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh outside air. With one last glance at the squirming bundle, she clambered to the floor. She gripped a handful of skirt, fingers trembling, and reached out for the door. Abby crawled u
p the stairs, keeping her head below the smoke.
Abby struggled to breathe in the murky air. She pushed through fallen shelving, coughing and choking. Burning debris crumbled from the ceiling, sparking as it crashed to the floor. An unexpected cool breeze brushed against her skin and Abby swiveled her head, searching for its source. Beyond the fearsome wall of flame, a dark opening gaped to one side.
Springing forward, Abby scrabbled past the flames, pushing past broken boxes. The cool air grew stronger, like a river cutting through the smoke-laden air. Choking and sputtering, Abby followed its path to an open doorway. Lunging through, she burst out onto the dark street.
The cool night breeze caressed her stinging face. An unfamiliar peace filled her soul and she turned to gaze at the burning building, so close to being her death.
A sharp voice snapped her from the trance. “Hey, girl, get away!” A man grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. “Are you crazy? Why were you just standing there?”
Abby spun around, not fully comprehending. She opened her mouth, but her numb mind refused to form words.
Sparrow. Abby twisted and broke free of his grip. Hurtling around the building and into the dark alley, she spotted the bundle, sitting near the back of the store.
Abby fell to her knees, lifting the baby with trembling hands. Sparrow squirmed in Abby’s arms, her face twisted into a mad howl, fists clenched. Abby touched her chin with a soot-smeared finger. “You are one lucky baby, you know?” She clutched Sparrow to her chest and swayed, turning in a tight circle. “I guess God does look after the sparrows. You and me, both.”
The morning sun peeked over the edge of the horizon, painting colors on the curtains of smoke draping the San Francisco sky. What was the verse Aunt Mae had quoted? Beauty for ashes. Abby cradled Sparrow in one arm, sending up whispers of thanks. God had gifted them with a brand-new day.
44
5:30 a.m.
Robert rolled over onto his stomach, his hand sliding across the yellow quilt. After two long hours of searching the park, Gerald had finally convinced him to wait until morning.
“Though, I must confess, you’re making me look like a lousy cousin.” He shook his head. “But you can’t make her appear out of the night by the sheer power of your will. She’s in God’s hands.”
As much as Robert hated admitting it, Gerald was right. Stumbling through the dark had brought them no closer to finding Abby or Clara.
And yet, lying here on the ground wasn’t much use either. Sleep was impossible. Robert dug his fingers into the corner of the quilt, wadding it into a knot. If God was trying to teach him something, somehow the lesson was lost on him.
Gerald shifted beside him, his shoulder bumping Robert’s. “Sorry.”
Robert exhaled, trying to release some of the tension growing in his chest. “I’m not sleeping anyway.”
His friend sat up, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Once dawn breaks, we’ll get started.”
Robert rested his head against his elbow, imagining Abby walking into his arms, a smile lighting up her coffee-colored eyes, but the scene blurred away into an image of her injured and alone, wandering flaming streets in terror. He pushed his brow against his forearm as steam built in his chest. If he waited much longer, he was bound to explode.
Robert knew Gerald would accuse him of trying to be the hero, but it had grown into much more. At this moment, he didn’t desire Abby’s adoration or gratitude. He needed her love, alone. His chest ached for it.
Gerald propped himself up on one elbow. “Would you like to pray with me?”
Robert rolled to his back. “Now? Here?” His stomach churned. He hadn’t prayed aloud since his father’s funeral.
His friend chuckled. “Can you think of a better place? I’m betting about half of the people here are praying.”
Pushing up to a sitting position, Robert glanced around with a yawn. “Looks to me like they’re sleeping.”
“Like you?”
A glow appeared in the eastern sky, the sun announcing its impending arrival. Robert shrugged. “We might as well.”
Gerald nodded before dipping his head and closing his eyes. He spoke in soft tones, entreating God for the safe deliverance of his cousins, wisdom for him and Robert as they searched, and comfort for the people of San Francisco.
Robert ran his damp palms over his trouser knees as Gerald finished speaking. His thoughts jumbled as emotions spilled from his heart, muddying his thinking. “God . . .” he paused and cleared his throat. He swept away his insecurity and tried to focus. “God, I don’t have the words for what I want to say. You know my heart. I want to rush to the rescue, but You have made it clear it isn’t my purpose. Every time I try to help, things seem to fall apart. So now, I’m turning Abby and her family over to Your keeping.”
A warm presence wrapped around Robert’s heart as the words flowed. “Protect them. Be their guard and protector . . .” his voice faltered. He cleared his throat a second time, taking a breath. “Lord, if I can be of help, please—show me the way.”
Gerald clapped a hand on his arm. “Amen.”
Robert opened his eyes, a new calm surrounding his soul. As he lifted his gaze, the sun burst over the horizon, light spilling out over the city.
6:30 a.m.
Abby retreated to the relative safety of Golden Gate Park. With all of the soldiers milling about the crowd, she doubted she’d see the thug from last night. A shudder tripped up her spine at the memory.
She found an open spot and sat down, legs folded to the side, her skirt tucked underneath. All around, families chattered, making preparations for the day.
Abby laid the sleeping baby on her legs and closed her eyes. Sparrow squirmed, giving a quiet whimper. Lifting the baby, Abby cradled her, rocking back and forth. Sparrow gave two soft mewling cries before falling silent. Abby remembered back to Davy’s plump baby cheeks and reached down to stroke Sparrow’s pale face. Babies were supposed to have round, rosy cheeks. Dark circles surrounded Sparrow’s sunken eyes.
Caressing her face with the tip of a finger, Abby gazed into the baby’s eyes. I cannot feed her. If I don’t find help, soon, she’ll die.
A woman sitting nearby stared at Abby with dark eyes. Abby continued gently rocking Sparrow.
The woman rose to her feet, walked the few steps to Abby’s side, and crouched silently on her heels. Her stained dress hung loose on round shoulders, the fine fabric speaking of a high position in society. Her stare wandered from Abby to the baby and she lifted a trembling hand and pressed it against her lips.
“Yes?” Abby managed to speak, the pressure of the woman’s silence weighing on her shoulders. She wrapped a protective arm around the child.
“Marta.” A well-dressed man called to her, speaking in a soft tone. “Come have something to eat.”
The woman remained crouched like a cat, staring at Abby and Sparrow.
Abby dug her heels into the ground and pushed back a few inches.
The man, clad in a rumpled suit, walked over and reached out a hand. “Come, Marta. Come away.” Dust gathered in the fine lines around his eyes and mouth.
Marta stood, brushed off her mauve skirt, and strode back to her own camp with only one backward glance. Her full lips turned downward and her chin trembled.
Abby pushed up to her feet, Sparrow nestled in her arms. She glanced around, pondering a move to a safer location without so many prying eyes. A morning chill hung low over the park. Balancing the baby against her shoulder, Abby rubbed her palms together. Her skin tingled as the hairs lifted along her arms. She glanced about, heart skipping a beat. Something feels . . .
Abby’s gaze returned to the odd woman, now sitting with her back turned. The black shirtwaist she wore emphasized the somber downturn of her shoulders, curved forward as if she cradled something in her arms. The man rested a hand on her knee, speaking so softly Abby couldn’t make out the words.
The couple made such a lovely image, Abby’s feet took two quick steps befor
e she jerked to a sudden stop.
The man glanced up at the sunrise, the light washing over his face, deepening the shadowed grooves in his forehead. He closed his eyes, falling to his knees in front of the woman and laying his head on her lap.
Abby couldn’t make out his words, but she sensed he was murmuring a prayer. The woman wept, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Eyes still closed, he lifted his head, reached both hands behind her back and pulled her into his arms and onto her knees, facing him.
They remained on their knees, crying and holding each other, the private moment exposed for the entire city to see. Other refugees stepped around their camp, politely averting their eyes, but Abby could not turn away. Sparrow squirmed, offering a faint, mewling cry.
Abby’s heart hammered as she felt a magnetic tug dragging her toward the couple. Go. She swallowed, her throat squeezing.
Straightening her shoulders, Abby managed the few steps over to the couple’s campsite.
The man glanced up, wiping the tears from his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet, keeping one protective hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“My name is Abby.” She bit her lip, a flush working up her neck. Why had she interrupted?
The man reached out a hand. “I am Micah Webster. This is my—”
“Is this your baby?” The woman’s dark eyes flickered between Abby and Sparrow.
Abby swayed, rocking Sparrow. “Well, no, but—”
“Your sibling?”
Sparrow’s eyes closed, blue veins visible through the paper-thin skin on her eyelids. Abby’s heart fluttered. What am I doing?
Mr. Webster placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “You’ll have to excuse our forward manner, Miss. We lost our infant daughter in the quake.” He wrapped an arm around Mrs. Webster. “She was killed when the chimney fell into the nursery.”
Mrs. Webster’s dark eyes filled with tears. “I should’ve kept her in our room.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby’s throat tightened. “My sister died, too.” She didn’t bother to mention it happened months before. It didn’t seem to matter.
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