Ruby hovered behind her chair, the rich smells of the evening meal no longer tempting her appetite.
Mae carried in one last dish. “Patrick, why don’t you take this seat? My niece Clara and her husband are away this week. It will just be the six of us. Where’s Robert?”
“I’m here.” Robert hurried in, crossing to Abby’s side and placing a peck on her cheek in greeting. “But I need to rush off right after the meal. I’m on rounds this evening.” He beamed at the newcomer. “Patrick, how nice of you to join us.”
Gerald joined the group, his face unreadable.
Ruby’s throat tightened. Did he know of Abby’s matchmaking? Had he invited Patrick here on purpose?
Everyone took seats around the table. Patrick beamed, gazing at the variety of dishes spread on the tablecloth. “Mrs. Larkspur, I haven’t seen a bounty this magnificent since before the quake.”
Mae smiled. “We share what we can with those less fortunate, but with two doctors under this roof, I feel it’s important to ensure they are well fed.”
Gerald whipped the napkin out from under his silverware and tucked the cloth into his lap. “My mother is one of the best cooks in San Francisco. She even hosted Mrs. Leland Stanford, once.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Mae blushed. “Jane came seeking extra funds for the university. We all tried to do our part.”
Patrick accepted a steaming bowl of creamed corn from Abby. “Mrs. Stanford—raising money? I thought the Stanfords were richer than Solomon.”
Ruby ran a finger around the edge of her water glass, the conversation fading into the background of her mind. Gerald’s eyes remained fixed on his plate, as if the topic caused him discomfort. Or was it the guest?
Mae refilled Patrick’s glass. “Perhaps. But after her Leland passed away, there was some kerfuffle with the estate—probate and so forth. She feared they might lose the school. Matters were settled a few years later.”
“I believe the Stanford mansion burned in the fires, along with the rest of Nob Hill.” The Irishman took a bite of the chicken. “There’s one interesting turn from the disaster. Rich and poor walked side by side during those terrifying days. We still have a few well-to-do folks in the camps. Some lost everything.”
Gerald poked a fork into his salad. “Thankfully, the city’s on the mend.”
Robert passed around a basket of rolls. “And looking better all the time. I think it will be quite the showcase, once everything is rebuilt.”
Patrick handed the bread to Ruby, catching her eye. “Yes, the city grows more lovely every day.”
Her fingers closed over the edge of the wicker bowl, and she darted a glance at Gerald.
The doctor scooped food into his mouth as if he’d not eaten for months. The man had kissed her just a few weeks before, and now he couldn’t be bothered to meet her eyes. She claimed a roll before passing the basket back to Mae. Ruby swallowed and offered a hesitant smile to Patrick. “How are things in the camps this week? Is the situation improving?”
“Day by day, yes. The government cut off rations for many of the able-bodied men and women, so most folks are working. I imagine they’ll close completely by early next year. There’s plenty of jobs to be had, just few places to call home.”
Abby turned to Ruby. “Margie from the Ladies’ Aid showed me the new sewing center at the Golden Gate Camp. The women are supplied with machines and material. They’re busy stitching garments to replace what’s been lost.”
Ruby straightened in her seat. “What a wonderful idea.”
Patrick leaned toward her. “I’d be pleased to give you a tour. Dr. Larkspur is stopping by Monday to see to a few of my friends. Perhaps you’d like to join us.”
She faced Gerald. “I thought you had a board meeting.”
His gaze flickered for a moment, but he continued pushing food around his plate. “Meeting’s in the morning. I’ll go to the camp in the afternoon. You don’t need to come along. I can handle things on my own.”
Heat seared her throat. Not only did he refuse to meet her eyes, now he’d toss her aside as a nurse as well? She turned to Patrick and lifted her chin. “I’ll accompany Dr. Larkspur. If he doesn’t require my assistance with patients, I’d be honored if you would show me the sewing facilities.”
A smile spread across the minister’s face. “Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.”
* * *
Gerald’s chair squeaked as he pushed it back, the walls crushing in against him. “If everyone will excuse me, I think I’ll refill the water carafe.”
His mother glanced up, a fork dangling in her grip. “I can do it.”
“Sit, Mother. You’ve been cooking all afternoon. I believe I can handle this.” He marched from the room, his thigh catching the corner of the table and setting the glasses rattling.
The kitchen door swung closed behind him, and Gerald took several deep breaths to clear his head. He leaned against the counter and rubbed the sore spot on his leg. Clearly God was getting a hold of his desires, but he hadn’t expected it to come in such a painful manner.
The door opened, Ruby’s recognizable footfalls breaking the stillness. She strode to his side. “How dare you embarrass me like this. You don’t need me?” Her voice cracked. “Or is it because you’ve lost interest, you no longer want my services as a nurse?”
Gerald dropped the pitcher into the sink and spun around to face her. “Lost interest? Are you mad?” He jerked his head toward the dining room. “I’m not the one escorting you to fancy meals at the Cliff House or walks along the shore—apparently I’m only useful for providing a roof over your head and teaching you to drive.”
Ruby clutched the empty breadbasket to her midsection. “The Cliff House? You can blame your cousin for that.” She slapped the container on the counter and hooked her hands on her hips. “Are you accusing me of seeing Patrick behind your back? I’m not sure it’s any of your concern.”
Gerald glanced toward the door, the distant murmuring voices falling silent. He set his jaw before returning his attention to the spitfire in front of him, her nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge. If they were going to have this discussion, they required privacy. He grasped her arm and steered her out the back door, their feet pounding down the steps into the dark garden.
She yanked her hand free. “Let me go. What do you think you’re doing? You have a guest—or have you forgotten?”
“I wish I could.” He blew out air through clenched teeth. “And I’m not accusing you of anything. If you desire to see Patrick Allison, I won’t stand in your way. He’s obviously a better man than I— dedicating his life to serving the poor while I wallow here in comfort.”
Creases formed on either side of Ruby’s mouth as the corners of her lips turned downward. “Better—what are you talking about?” Her voice shook. “There could never be a better man than you.”
Her words hit him like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
She tipped her head back for a moment, as if staring up at the first stars twinkling in the night sky. Ruby lowered her chin, her pale blue eyes filling with tears. “You are the most wonderful, most handsome, most—remarkable man I have ever known. How could you think for a heartbeat I would choose Patrick over you?”
The garden seemed to spin as the crisp night air sent chills racing across his arms. “What do you mean?”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “Don’t make me say it. I’m afraid my heart would unravel into a pile of loose thread.”
Gerald grasped Ruby’s elbows and pulled her close, his heart pounding. He ran a thumb across her cheek, pushing away the lone droplet. “Ruby, I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, so this time I’ll ask—may I kiss you?”
She circled her arms behind his back, the warmth radiating into his spine. “Yes. Please. Now.”
He bent down and pressed his mouth to hers, blood humming in his veins like the Crookes tube at full power. When their lips separated, he kept his cheek p
ressed to hers, relishing the rose-scented fragrance of her hair. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for a second chance to do that.”
Her gentle breath tickled his skin. “I’m glad you’ve been patient. I know I haven’t made it easy.”
He cupped a hand under her jaw. “You have no idea. But I would have waited a lifetime for a kiss so sweet.”
“I’d rather spend a lifetime enjoying those kisses.”
Gerald pulled her close and claimed another. Nuzzling along her temple, he whispered in her ear. “If I have any say in it—”
“Ahem.” Robert’s voice sounded from the porch. “I think you two may have forgotten something. There’s a fairly decent view of the garden from the dining room windows.”
Ruby gasped and ducked behind Gerald.
Amusement colored her brother’s voice. “Any chance you’ll be joining us for dessert?”
Gerald turned his back to the house. “In a moment, Robert.” He waited until the door clicked shut, the sound of distant laughter turning his stomach.
Ruby buried her face in his shoulder. “How mortifying.”
“We could run away, right now. Disappear into the night and never face them.” At the moment, he could think of nothing he desired more.
She lifted her chin, staring into his eyes. “At least Patrick knows where he stands.”
Gerald chuckled. “Yes—in there. And I’m standing out here with the beautiful woman.” He bent down to claim a final kiss, no longer caring who watched.
29
Ruby guided the silk under the presser foot, using the toes of her shoes to rock the treadle like a seesaw. The whirring needle matched rhythm with the precipitous beat of her heart. She pressed her lips tight to prevent the silly smile plaguing her all morning.
Nothing had changed. So, she kissed Gerald. What difference did it make? She shook her head in defiance. Her spirit didn’t seem to understand—it pranced and sang like a girl in a field of wildflowers.
As she reached the edge of the fabric, she grasped the balance wheel to stop the needle, carefully turning the fabric and lining up the next row of stitches. Seamstress work made sense. Cutting, pinning, stitching—creating something new with practiced hands. She could do the same with the blossoming relationship. She just needed to guide and direct her emotions—ensure they didn’t wander off-course or become hopelessly tangled like an out-of-control bobbin thread.
What happened with Charlie wouldn’t repeat itself.
Ruby slowed the rhythm, eyeing the even line of stitches. If only everything in her life could be so ordered.
Abby’s voice sounded from behind her. “It’s beautiful.”
Ruby lifted her head. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Her friend peered over her shoulder. “You’ve been working for hours. I don’t know how you can stay at it so long.”
Ruby placed her feet on the floor and stretched her stiff back muscles. “I get weary, but then I imagine finishing just one more piece and I can’t help myself.”
“It’s how I am with a book.”
“And I with your aunt’s molasses cookies.” Ruby snipped a loose thread and held the skirt up. “I think this is coming along nicely. I’ll be able to add the bodice tomorrow.”
Abby ran her hand along the smooth fabric. “It’s lovely, Ruby. You are talented.”
“Every woman should have a beautiful dress for her wedding.” Ruby bundled the skirt into her sewing basket.
Abby sat down in the wingback chair. “Did you?”
Ruby gazed at the silk. “Yes. I made it myself. Acres of satin, ruffles, bows, and sleeves so wide I could barely fit through the door. Ridiculous.” Her gaze wandered over the elegant lace spread across the sewing chest. “I was young. I thought I needed such frivolity, somehow.”
The young woman smiled. “You are so much like my sister. She would have wanted such a dress, too.”
“Somewhere along the line, I discovered marriage isn’t about the dress. It’s about the people. Their future together.” The image of a handsome doctor sprang to her thoughts. Could they reach such a point? Ruby blushed. One kiss and her thoughts rushed to matrimony. Well, a few kisses.
Abby slid forward and perched on the seat’s edge. “The future has been on my mind of late.”
Ruby eyed the young woman’s pensive face. “I can imagine it might.”
Abby pursed her lips, tucking her chin toward her chest. “I don’t think one should go into marriage with secrets.” Her friend jumped up from the seat and paced around the chair, stopping to brace herself against its high back.
Ruby’s throat tightened. Her brother’s fiancée seemed innocent enough—what kind of mysteries could she harbor? “Abby, if there’s something wrong, perhaps you should discuss it with Robert. I don’t want to come between you.”
“It’s difficult. I’m certain he wouldn’t approve.”
Ruby set the basket on the floor and rose, stepping to Abby’s side. “My brother is quite reasonable. What could be so loathsome?”
Abby moved away, crossing to the window and gazing down at the street. “I’ve gone against his wishes. I’m not accustomed to receiving directions—demands.” Her fingers curled into her palms, her voice rising. “In fact, if he continues, I’m not certain . . . I’m not . . .” She choked off her words, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.
A chill swept through Ruby. “What are you talking about? What kind of demands?” Her mind rushed to all sorts of uncomfortable places.
Abby faced Ruby, blinking hard. “I told you about Kum Yong, my Chinese friend. Months ago, Robert forbade me to visit her. We quarreled about it but never came to a resolution. Since then we’ve avoided the topic.”
The stitch of tension in Ruby’s neck loosened. Of course. “And you’ve seen her?”
Abby pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Not yet. The mission relocated to Oakland after the quake. But we’ve exchanged letters.”
Ruby ran a hand across her brown skirt, picking at some stray threads left behind by her afternoon’s work. “You and Robert live under the same roof. How did you manage to keep the correspondence a secret?”
“Kum Yong passed the letters through her minister. He delivered them to the camp kitchen.”
“This is silly. My brother shouldn’t choose your companions.”
“I agree.” Abby shrugged. “I don’t understand—he’s an angel about everything else. But Kum Yong is dear to me. I refuse to cast her off like so much discarded laundry.” She twisted the cuff on her sleeve. “Next week Miss Cameron is bringing one of the mission girls to testify in court, and Kum Yong will interpret. I won’t miss this opportunity to see her, if only for a few minutes.”
“Perhaps if he accompanied you, he’d see there’s nothing to fear.”
Abby’s face pinched. “If I tell him, we’ll end up arguing.”
“If you hide it and are discovered, it will result in a bigger quarrel. It’s not wise to leave a disagreement unsettled. They have a way of sneaking back to bite you.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Abby sank back into the waiting chair.
Ruby paced the floor. “I’ll speak to him. He’s always been the even-tempered one of the family.” She paused, hitching her chin in the air. “He had me for a sister, after all.”
Abby flew out of her seat and threw her arms around Ruby. “Thank you. I knew you could fix this.”
“I hope I can.” She glanced back at the sewing machine. I’d hate to be doing all this work for naught.
* * *
Gerald’s celluloid collar rubbed at his throat like a noose, the air heavy with the stench of Dawson’s Cuban cigar. Gerald glanced down at his folded hands and grimaced at the sweat dampening his gloves. They’ll think I’m a dandy. Better to suffer raised brows than expose his bandaged palm to the board. They didn’t need more reasons to question his research.
Emil leaned back against his seat at the far end of the
expansive table, the long silver hairs of his waxed mustache almost compensating for a nonexistent hairline.
He can’t wait to send me packing. Gerald swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, the fabric grazing his skin.
Robert fidgeted as the men rustled through the stacks of papers.
Emil cast a dismissive glance around the table as if the other board members were inconsequential. “Dr. Larkspur, I expect you understand why we are here.”
Gerald set his jaw. “We’re here because you summoned us, Dr. Dawson.”
“Three months have passed since our last meeting. I’ve kept a close eye on your reports, and my grave concerns have been verified.”
“Three months means little to a long-term research project.”
The man’s moustache twitched as his lips parted. He lifted a cigar from the polished ashtray and clamped it between his yellowed teeth. “How many patients have you lost now, Larkspur? Ten? Eleven?” A smile toyed at his lips.
A sour taste sprang to Gerald’s mouth. Dawson already knew the number. “Thirteen.”
Robert straightened his shoulders. “We prolonged their lives.”
Gerald shot his partner a warning glance.
The old doctor lifted a bushy brow, ready to pounce. “And what of your two remission patients?”
The trap had been set. No escape. “Twelve and thirteen.”
Silence descended on the room like a death shroud.
Dr. Lawrence leaned forward, his prematurely graying hair providing him a distinguished appearance, despite his young age. “My apologies, Dr. Larkspur, but I’ve heard rumors of ill effects from the treatment. Have you experienced any negative repercussions from the prolonged use of X-rays?”
Gerald tucked his hands under the table. “It’s laid out in the report, Dr. Lawrence. We’ve seen some minor burns, malaise, nausea, and so forth. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What of the newspaper accounts of Edison’s assistant, Clarence Dally? He died four years ago, after losing both arms to carcinoma. It’s said the cancer resulted from burns he’d sustained working with the X-ray equipment.” Lawrence reached for his water glass. “Edison abandoned all X-ray research. Have you addressed his safety concerns?”
Beyond the Ashes Page 20