by Jae
“Carrying biscuits,” Giuliana said with a hint of a smile, as if adding, Isn’t it obvious?
“You don’t need to do that. You’re no longer our servant, you know?”
“I know. But your mother asked me to help with the breakfast.”
“Asked?” Kate quirked an eyebrow. Since when did her mother ask for anything? Demanding was more her style.
Giuliana’s smile grew. “Well…”
Kate took the basket from her and set it down on a small table in the hall. “Breakfast can wait. Let’s get you patched up.” Not waiting for Giuliana’s reply, she pulled her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Once the door clicked shut behind them, her determination waned. She had never before taken care of anyone’s wounds, and she didn’t want to hurt Giuliana, who had already been through so much today. Darn. She should have gotten Lucy to clean Giuliana’s cuts, but then again, the doctor had been busy dealing with much more life-threatening injuries.
“Are you all right?” Giuliana touched Kate’s forearm while studying her closely.
The touch sent tingles through Kate’s body. Caught between wanting to escape and wanting to lean closer, she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. I just…I’m afraid I won’t make the best nurse.”
“Better than Biddy,” Giuliana muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. You will be a very good nurse. Much better than Turi. When I got hurt last, my brother gave me a cloth and said not to bleed all over the fishes.”
That made Kate laugh, and the tension in her shoulders receded a bit. “I’ll try to do better than that.” She led Giuliana over to her dresser, pressed her down onto the chair, and pulled her around to face her.
The cut on Giuliana’s forehead had stopped bleeding, but the skin all around it was already starting to take on a bluish tint. “How did that happen?”
“I think it was a stone from the roof. They fell down on me like rain.”
The blood rushed from Kate’s head. A vivid memory of the dead man she’d seen, crushed by falling bricks, washed over her. That could have easily been Giuliana. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and willed her fingers not to tremble as she grabbed a clean rag and soaked it with iodine tincture. “Ready? It will burn a little.”
Lips a tight line, Giuliana nodded.
Hesitantly, Kate brought the rag closer to her forehead. She lifted her other hand, laid it along Giuliana’s cheek and jaw, and tilted her head a little to get a better angle.
Giuliana went very still.
Was it because of the touch to her face or because she was preparing herself for the pain? Kate shook off the thought. Why should Giuliana react to her touch? If she held her breath, it was only because she knew the iodine would burn.
Carefully, she dabbed at the cut with the soaked rag.
“Ahi,” Giuliana murmured but didn’t flinch back.
“I’ll be done in a second,” Kate whispered. Her voice sounded hoarse in her own ears. She pressed the cloth to the wound once more, making sure no dirt remained in the cut.
“We should not do this so often,” Giuliana said with a slight smile.
“Hmm?”
“You taking care of my hurts.”
“Oh. Right. Your ankle.” Somehow, that seemed as if it had happened a long time ago even though only three weeks had passed since then. Kate straightened. “There. All done. Now the cut on your hand.” She held out her hand for Giuliana to lay hers into.
Instead of putting her hand in Kate’s, Giuliana trailed one fingertip over Kate’s palm. “You already fixed yours, yes?”
The touch, as light as it was, sent a wave of heat through the rest of Kate’s body. Quickly, she pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. “Um, yes. Just a few splinters and scratches. Now let’s see yours.”
Without further hesitation, Giuliana put her hand into Kate’s.
An inch-long cut marred the fleshy part of her palm toward her thumb.
Kate probed the skin around it gently with her fingertips. Thankfully, the cut didn’t seem very deep, as if Giuliana had flinched back from whatever had pierced her skin in time to prevent a more serious injury. Kate soaked a clean corner of the cloth with the tincture and then dabbed at the wound.
Giuliana flinched a little, but her hand remained in Kate’s, warm and trusting.
Kate’s gaze flickered to Giuliana’s face repeatedly to make sure the pain wasn’t too bad. Finally, she lowered her hand with the cloth. “Anywhere else?”
“Um…” Giuliana curled her newly cleaned hand into a fist and hid both hands in her lap. “Only very small cuts on my knees. You do not need—”
“Show me,” Kate said before she could think about it. After all, even tiny little cuts could get infected, right?
Giuliana hesitated but then pulled up the skirt and rolled down her stockings, revealing her shapely legs.
All right. You wanted to patch up her knees; now do it. Kate gave herself a mental shove. You might want to start by looking at them. This wasn’t a stolen glance at another woman’s legs. She was looking for strictly medical reasons. At least that was what she told herself as she slowly lowered her gaze.
Tiny cuts covered both of Giuliana’s knees, as if she had crawled over glass shards or pieces of wood. Shallow scrapes and scratches marred her shins, and in some places, the skin was still an angry red where the fire had burned through her dress.
Kate needed to take a closer look to make sure there were no glass or wood splinters in the small cuts, so she knelt in front of Giuliana, bent, and leaned closer, holding on to one of her legs to keep her balance.
The electric lightbulbs in the chandelier flickered once and then went out.
With the windows and the curtains firmly closed to help keep out the smoke and dust, the room was pitched into darkness.
Kate’s heart leaped in her chest. She was breathing much too fast—not from fear, she realized after a moment, but from being so close to Giuliana. The darkness robbed her of sight but increased the acuteness of her other senses. She was much too aware of how soft Giuliana’s skin was beneath her fingertips.
Giuliana wasn’t exactly helping. She gripped Kate’s shoulders with both hands and pulled her closer, into the V of her thighs.
Kate started to tremble. Or was it Giuliana trembling against her?
After a few seconds, she became aware of Giuliana mumbling something in Sicilian. She was sure it wasn’t Oh, that feels nice, because Giuliana sounded scared. Instantly, Kate tried to move back. She hadn’t meant to scare Giuliana with her unnatural desires.
But Giuliana clutched her even closer.
What was going on? Kate hesitantly laid her hands on Giuliana’s back and rubbed soothing circles. “Are you…scared of the dark?”
Giuliana nodded against her. “When the house fell on me, it was very dark. No light. I thought I die.”
Oh Lord. And here she was, having impure thoughts! Kate felt like the worst human being that had ever graced this earth. She cradled Giuliana against her, rocking her softly. “You made it out. Nothing is going to hurt you now.”
Giuliana relaxed in her arms, her body warm and pliant against Kate’s. “I—”
A sharp rap at the door made them jump apart. Kate handed Giuliana the iodine-soaked rag and quickly stood from her kneeling position.
Light filtered into the room, revealing Biddy, who stood in the doorway. Her brow furrowed, and she looked from Giuliana to Kate and back.
Kate busied herself by stoppering the bottle of iodine and putting it away. “What is it, Obedience?” She hoped Biddy couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice or the thumping of her heart.
“The Bakers just arrived. Your mother wants you to come down for breakfast.”
“We’ll be right there,” Kate said.
Biddy stared at her, looking as if she wanted to challenge the we, but then she ducked her head and retreated.
“Leave the door open,” Kate called before Biddy could close it
. She didn’t want the darkness to scare Giuliana again.
As the stairs creaked beneath Biddy’s retreating steps, Kate blew out a breath.
Giuliana looked just as shaken—probably from having to relive the scariest moment of her life, not because they had almost been caught in an embrace.
“Do you want me to…?” She pointed at the rag she had handed Giuliana.
“I can do this.” Giuliana dabbed the iodine over the cuts on her knees and the scrapes on her shins. This time, she didn’t flinch even though Kate knew the tincture had to burn.
When Giuliana was done, Kate handed her an ointment for her burns and looked away until Giuliana pulled the hem of her dress back down.
“All good,” Giuliana announced.
Kate resisted the urge to lightly grasp her elbow and lead her to the door. “Come on,” she said instead. “Let’s go have breakfast.”
* * *
With every step toward the morning room, Giuliana’s tension grew. She couldn’t just follow Kate in and sit at the Winthrops’ table. “Kate,” she whispered right before they reached the door. “I cannot eat breakfast with you. I do not belong, and everyone will know this.”
“You’re my guest. Biddy won’t dare say a word.”
“It is not only Biddy. Maybe it is better if I go.”
Kate whirled to face her. “No!” Her blue eyes reminded Giuliana of the sparks the fallen live wires had emitted. “Please…Stay.”
How could she say no to that? Giuliana sighed. “All right.”
Kate’s tense features softened. She gave Giuliana a nod before opening the door and guiding her into the morning room.
An older couple, two young women, and a man of about thirty had joined the Winthrops at the long mahogany table. The men stood as Kate and Giuliana entered.
Giuliana barely held herself back from curtsying as Kate introduced the Bakers.
“I didn’t know you had another guest,” George Baker, the oldest son of the family, said. His eyes glittered with interest as he studied Giuliana.
“We took in the poor dear because she lost her home in the earthquake,” Mrs. Winthrop said as if it had been entirely her idea. “Her house collapsed on itself. Can you imagine?”
The Baker women gasped.
George pulled out one of the high-backed chairs for Giuliana and indicated for her to sit next to him.
Giuliana hesitated. She would have preferred sitting next to Kate, but there was no way to politely decline, so she thanked the gentleman and gingerly settled between him and his sister at the table.
As soon as she was sitting, her gaze fell on the large bay windows facing southeast. Now it was Giuliana who gasped.
By now, the sun was rising higher in the sky, a blood-red ball of fire, nearly blotted out by massive columns of smoke that rose from several places. The plumes of smoke gathered high up in the sky, blocking out the daylight and making lamps necessary even though it was morning. The fires from below painted the smoke clouds in hues of pink, orange, lavender, and crimson.
“It’s almost beautiful, isn’t it?” said one of the Baker sisters between sips of orange juice, her pinky finger elegantly extended.
Beautiful? Giuliana stared at her. She doubted any of the people whose homes were burning thought of it that way. How could the Winthrops and the Bakers sit here and have breakfast while watching the city burn as if it were an event provided for their entertainment?
“Eat,” Kate whispered across the table to her, although Giuliana noticed that she had taken just a little oatmeal for herself. She kept glancing out the window at the columns of smoke.
Maybe Kate was right. Who knew where the next days would take her? This might be the last time in a week that she got a good meal.
A veritable feast had been laid out in front of her: rolls, toast and jams, buttermilk biscuits, eggs, strips of bacon, orange juice, and oatmeal with a pitcher of cream. Giuliana couldn’t help thinking that her entire family could have lived off all that food for a week. The scents wafting through the room made her stomach growl, but she was hesitant to help herself to any of the food. She couldn’t handle the silver cutlery as elegantly as the Winthrops and the Bakers. As soon as she started to eat, she’d give herself away as a working-class woman, embarrassing Kate and her parents.
“Try the biscuits, Giuliana,” Kate said, seemingly unconcerned. “They’re great with a little jam.”
Giuliana slid the smallest of the biscuits onto her plate and poured herself a bit of orange juice.
“Giuliana,” George Baker repeated. “That’s Italian, isn’t it?” Not waiting for her reply, he continued, “Are you related to the owner of the Fior d’Italia?”
How typical. Why did Americans always think all Italians were related to each other? She had never even set foot in the finest Italian restaurant in the city. Trying hard to hide her accent and imitate the educated diction and tone of the Winthrops, she said, “Not that I know.” She busied herself with her biscuit just so she wouldn’t have to say anything else, but she could sense his gaze on her.
“So your house collapsed? I didn’t know North Beach had been hit that hard,” George said.
Giuliana gave a noncommittal hum, content to let him believe she lived in the neighborhood where most Italians made their home in San Francisco, not in the poor area South of Market. She ducked her head, gaze firmly on her plate, hoping he’d stop peppering her with questions.
“Or do you live elsewhere in the city?”
“You haven’t, by any chance, been down in the financial district this morning, have you, George?” Mr. Winthrop asked, drawing the younger man’s attention away from Giuliana.
A lively discussion involving banks, money, and earthquake damage in the financial district ensued.
Giuliana breathed a sigh of relief and quickly ate the biscuit, now that everyone’s attention wasn’t on her anymore.
Without warning, the floor beneath her started to shake. The delicate cups rattled in their saucers, and the good china and crystal glasses clinked on the table. Mrs. Winthrop and the Baker women screamed at the top of their lungs.
The lamp on the side table crashed to the floor and shattered. Coal oil or kerosene drenched the beautiful rug and ignited within seconds. A circle of flame shot up, quickly threatening to engulf the floor-length curtains.
Fire! Giuliana was on her feet before she was fully aware of jumping up. She grabbed the pitcher of orange juice from the table and dumped its contents onto the flames.
With a hissing sound, the fire went out. The aftershock stopped as quickly as it had begun.
Giuliana stared at the smoke that curled up from the rug. Her body started to tremble. Vivid images of the smoke drifting up from the wreckage of the boardinghouse flashed through her mind. Heat from the fire below her seemed to sear her feet.
The scraping of a chair over the floor brought her back to the present.
Mr. Winthrop rushed around the table and stomped on the smoldering remains of the rug. He wrenched open the window and unceremoniously threw the smoking, orange-juice-dripping rug into the garden. When he turned back around, he gave Giuliana a terse nod. “Good thinking, young lady.”
Lady…Either he was trying to keep up appearances in front of his guests, or he was truly grateful for her intervention. Giuliana slowly relaxed her death grip on the pitcher and tried to still the trembling of her fingers.
Now that their own home had been threatened by fire, the Winthrops seemed to have lost their appetite and no longer appeared to find the sight of the burning city all that beautiful.
Mr. Winthrop emptied his cup and folded his linen napkin. “I think I’d better drive down to the office and check if everything is in order.” He turned toward his wife. “I’ll stop at the bank on the way back and get our money. We’ve barely got a cent in the house, and who knows what will happen in the next few days.”
George nodded. “I think we should do the same,” he said to his father. “If the fir
efighters can’t stop the fires at Market Street…”
“You don’t think we have anything to fear, do you?” Mrs. Winthrop asked.
“Oh, no, don’t worry. Dennis Sullivan won’t let it come to that. He’s the best damn chief the fire department ever had.” George blushed beneath his thin mustache. “Sorry for the language, ladies, but it’s true. Nob Hill is safe.”
“I’ll go, then.” Mr. Winthrop strode to the door.
Kate jumped up. “Wait, Father. I’ll go with you.”
“Out of the question. You stay here and—”
“And sit around drinking tea while the city’s on fire?” Kate shook her head so wildly that a few strands came loose from her pompadour. “This is my chance.”
“Chance for what?” Mr. Winthrop asked.
Kate stopped halfway toward him and looked him in the eyes. “To help people…and to take photographs.”
Her father shook his head. “If you want to help people, stay at home and crotchet them a warm shawl or something. I won’t have you put yourself at risk for other people or for silly mementos.”
“It’s not about mementos,” Kate answered. “I want to see my photographs in the San Francisco Call. I want to be a newspaper photographer, Father.”
Both Winthrops groaned.
“We’ve talked about this, Kathryn,” her father said. “No daughter of mine needs to work for a living.”
“But I want to. I—”
“Not in front of our guests,” Mr. Winthrop said. “We’ll talk about it when I’m back.”
“It might be too late by then. I need to photograph the city now, before the fires are out.” Kate took two more steps toward her father and the door behind him. “I’m going, with or without you.”
Giuliana didn’t want to be left behind with just Mrs. Winthrop and Biddy, her biggest adversaries in the house. Her chair scraped across the floor as she jumped up and ran after Kate. “Can I come with you?”
A grunt of frustration escaped Mr. Winthrop.
His friend, Mr. Baker, laughed and patted him on the back. “You should marry her off, Cornelius.” He winked over at his son. “Once she has her own household to run, she won’t have time for such harebrained ideas.”