Edgar was pleased to meet Emmeline. “Want to taste this batter? Do you think it needs more sugar?”
Emmeline obliged, and there was much laughter from the lodgers as everyone offered to help taste the batter.
You should be happy, too! Clara told herself sternly, surveying the scene. But her heart felt heavy. The Borden brothers were still out there somewhere, she knew, and their evil lay like a weight inside her that even Emmeline’s safe return could not banish. Humphrey sensed Clara’s dread and pressed close. She closed her fingers in his thick fur and was glad for his reassuring bulk against her as she left Emmeline chatting in the kitchen and went out into the yard to tell Mother there would be one more for dinner.
“That’s fine,” Mother said. “We always have room for one more.”
Edgar came out with the cake. He watched Mother check inside the brick oven. “Is it hot enough now, Mrs. Curfman?” he asked anxiously. “Shall I put the cake in to bake?”
“Feels mighty hot to me,” she said cheerfully. “Put it inside and mind that you don’t burn yourself. It should be ready by the time we finish our soup.” She picked up the basket of fried corn fritters and headed for the house. “Please bring the soup, Clara,” she called from the doorway. “We’re ready to eat.”
Edgar lifted the metal lid of his oven and peered inside. “I’m going to wait out here until this cake is done.”
“Fine—but don’t keep peeking at it,” Clara told him. “It’ll never bake if you keep letting cold air in!” She wrapped her hands in potholders to lift the heavy pot of soup and walked up the ramp. Just as she entered the dining room, she heard the front doorbell ring. Mother excused herself and went to the door.
Clara set the pot on a sturdy trivet in the center of the table. Always room for one more, thought Clara, ladling soup into Emmeline’s bowl. At least there was plenty of soup. As Clara moved around the table to serve Mr. Granger, she heard Mother’s exclamation of delight and a murmur of voices … And then there was Mother in the dining room doorway with a baby in her arms—Helen!—and Roseanna and Lucas Forrest close behind.
At the sight of the baby, a strange thing happened to Clara. All the courage she’d been showing since her escape from the Borden brothers deserted her. All the poise that her parents and the lodgers had admired since her return fell away. Her legs started shaking. The soup ladle sloshed back into the pot. She had to sit down in the nearest chair—Gideon’s empty chair.
Baby Helen’s face broke into a big smile. She reached out her arms to Clara. But Clara just sat staring at the baby, and her heart pounded like waves against Seal Rocks. An undertow seemed to be pulling at her again, pulling her into darkness. They’re still out there somewhere, she thought. She dug her fingernails into her palms.
“We tried to telephone you, but, of course, all the lines are still down,” Mr. Forrest said genially as he came into the dining room. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your meal, but the ferries are completely without schedules—and it took us much longer to get here from Oakland than we’d expected.”
Father rolled his chair away from the table to shake Lucas Forrest’s hand. “You are most welcome to join us,” he said. “Please come in and sit down.”
Mother stroked the baby’s smooth cheek. “Hello again, little one.”
Baby Helen was passed around to all who wanted to hold her and marvel at her lucky escape from death. They exclaimed over the speed at which the dark fuzz atop her head was growing back into soft wisps. They admired her pretty lace dress.
Clara had to leave the room for a minute to pull herself together. She stood in the hallway and pushed her dark thoughts away. Helen is fine. Everything is fine, she told herself
Chairs had been found for Lucas and Roseanna Forrest by the time Clara returned to the dining room. Mother was holding the baby again. Clara pulled over the stool from the sewing machine and sat at Mother’s side so that Gideon’s chair could remain empty—as Mother liked it.
“We are full of news,” Mr. Forrest began. “First of all, we are interviewing for a new nanny for Helen. So if you know of anyone who might like the position, please send her to us. Hattie and her no-good boyfriend have run off together—probably to Alaska.”
“I thought Hattie might be in jail,” Clara said quietly.
“Well, maybe she should be. But we didn’t press charges,” replied Mr. Forrest.
“She always took good care of Helen,” his wife hastened to explain. “And I do believe she never meant for our daughter to be put into danger. She told us she had no idea of the kidnapping scheme until the Borden brothers were pointing a revolver at her—and I believed her.”
“We have only ever heard Hattie’s account of the kidnapping,” Mother said. “Please do tell us your story.”
Mr. and Mrs. Forrest exchanged a troubled glance. “It’s still painful to talk about,” Mr. Forrest said. “But of course you must know all the details.” And everyone listened eagerly, sipping soup, as Lucas Forrest told his tale.
He and his wife had been guests of the Plumsteads when the earthquake hit. They were all lucky to escape safely moments before the mansion collapsed. Panicked, Lucas and Roseanna were desperate to get home to their baby in Oakland, so they left the Plumsteads and their Nob Hill neighbors to fight the oncoming fire and headed straight for the ferry building.
Mrs. Forrest put her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Tell them about Caruso!” she interrupted.
Mr. Forrest smiled. “Enrico Caruso, the famous tenor we had seen at the opera the night before the quake, was making a scene at the ferry! He was demanding to be taken away from this ‘Godforsaken city’ ahead of everyone else. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ he kept shouting importantly, but no one cared. We were ahead of him in line for the ferry when he came pushing past us, roaring that he had sung for kings and presidents! The ferry operator yelled at him, ‘Well, go ahead, then, if you’re so famous—SING!’”
The Curfmans and the lodgers laughed.
“And Caruso sang,” Mrs. Forrest continued. “He stood right there and belted out songs from Carmen. So they let him on the ferry and he sang the whole way to Oakland.”
Mr. Forrest shook his head. “I’m afraid we didn’t appreciate the honor. All we could think about was getting home to Helen. It took ages to get to our house—Oakland is also badly damaged. When we finally arrived, we were so grateful to be among the fortunate whose houses were still standing. But—”
“But there was no sign of Helen!” cried Mrs. Forrest. “Our housekeeper said she’d seen Hattie and the baby heading for the ferry to San Francisco on Tuesday afternoon and thought she was bringing Helen over to stay with us at the Plumsteads’. When we heard this, we feared both Helen and Hattie had been killed in the quake.” She cast a tender glance at her daughter, who sat happily on Mother’s lap. “We never for a moment imagined she’d been kidnapped …”
Mrs. Forrest’s voice trailed off, but her husband resumed their account. “We paid a man to take us back to San Francisco in his sailboat, though he insisted we were mad to return. But we needed to post notices that Helen was missing. We stayed with the Plumsteads in Golden Gate Park so that we could search day and night.”
Mrs. Forrest’s voice rose in agitation. “The next thing we knew, a ransom note had been slipped under the front door of our house in the dead of night! Our housekeeper notified the police, who then came to the park to alert us. As you can imagine, we were beside ourselves. And of course you know the rest of the story.”
“But perhaps they don’t, dear,” Mr. Forrest said. “Because our most important news is some we wanted to bring you ourselves, before the police stop by to tell you. They sent word to us only this morning that the Borden brothers have been found.”
Clara’s mouth grew dry. She licked her lips.
“As they tried to flee that awful night, their boat was dashed on the rocks and sank. Their accomplices—two sailors who may not even have known what the brothers were u
p to—drowned, poor things. The Borden brothers tried to swim to shore, but Sid didn’t make it. He drowned just beyond Seal Rocks, and his body washed ashore. Herman Borden made it to land but was arrested before he got himself dried off. He’s on his way to prison now.”
Clara felt as if a choking noose around her neck had been cut free. She took a deep breath and tried to feel compassion for Sid’s death and Herman’s capture, but all she really felt was gladness. They deserved whatever they got, she believed. And now they would not be able to hurt anyone else, ever again.
She reached over and lifted Helen from Mother’s arms. “Little one,” she whispered. “Now we are truly safe.”
“Our Helen is alive because of you, Clara.” Mrs. Forrest’s voice trembled. “We have no words to thank you enough. You have our eternal gratitude.”
Clara pressed her face against Helen’s fuzzy head and could not answer. Father and Mother were beaming across the table at each other.
“We know there’s nothing we can do to thank Clara adequately—but we’d like to try,” Mr. Forrest added, looking down the table at Father. “My wife attended Mills College, the women’s college over in Oakland, where her own father is a professor. And it would be our greatest honor to see Clara continue her education there someday. Her full tuition would be taken care of, of course.”
“Oh, my, we couldn’t accept such a gift!” exclaimed Father.
“Please, Mr. Curfman, you must let us do this,” said Mrs. Forrest gently. “Without Clara, our Helen would be dead. Can you imagine the pain of losing a child?” She shuddered.
Several of the lodgers cleared their throats uncomfortably.
Mother closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, we can.”
Mrs. Forrest glanced around the table, then hurriedly continued. “Anyway, we think of Clara now as one of our own family, and all the young ladies in our family go to Mills College!”
“Unless, of course, Clara would prefer to go to college elsewhere—” amended Mr. Forrest.
“Oh no,” said Clara. “Mills College would be lovely. Oh, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Forrest! Going to college has been one of my fondest dreams!”
Emmeline spoke up. “It’s true—Clara loves school—she wants to be a teacher. I daresay she’s the only one in our class who is sad that the school has burned down.”
Everyone joined in the laughter. Then the back door slammed and Edgar came in at last, carrying the cake. “It’s finally ready!” he cried, then stopped and looked at the Forrests in surprise. “Oh! I surely hope there will be enough to go around!”
Mother smiled at Edgar. “I’m sure there will be. But first, you need some supper yourself.” She ladled out a bowl of soup, and then hesitated a moment, looking around the table, before she passed the bowl down to Father at the other end. Clara held her breath as Father set the bowl at the only free place: Gideon’s place. Clara looked up in time to see Father and Mother exchange a long look, the sort of wordless conversation they used to have before the accident. Clara smiled to see it. Then Father touched the back of Gideon’s chair.
“Go on, Edgar,” Clara said quickly before Mother could change her mind. “Hurry, before your soup is cold. Sit down!”
Edgar, taking his place at the table, flashed a smile. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. “Old Sock.”
Old Sock?
Had Edgar really spoken—or had she imagined those words?
Maybe it doesn’t matter, Clara thought, kissing the top of Helen’s head. Here she was, sitting in a room full of people—some whom she’d known before the quake, some whom she’d met only because of the disaster. It was easy to imagine that Gideon was here with them, too. He would always be with her, she felt sure. The city lay in ruins, yet her own family felt less damaged now, after the quake. She wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but she looked over at Mother, then at Father, and was certain it had. And now there was Edgar. And the promise of college. Clara hugged Baby Helen. Who would have thought in a million years that so much could change in such a very short time?
“Clara,” Mother said briskly, interrupting Clara’s reverie. “Will you please clear the table, dear? And bring in plates for cake?”
Some things, of course, would never change. Not in a million years.
1906
GOING BACK IN TIME
LOOKING BACK: 1906
Clara’s story is fiction, but the massive earthquake that rocked San Francisco on April 18, 1906, really happened. The quake—caused by shifts in the earth miles below the surface—struck at 5:12 A.M. and created one of the worst disasters in United States history. Hundreds of buildings collapsed, gas mains broke, and fires spread swiftly, engulfing the city center. More than six square miles were reduced to rubble and ash, and over 3,000 people were killed. Many towns and villages were damaged in the earthquake, but only San Francisco was ravaged by fire.
Fires raged for three days and three nights. Fire Chief Dennis Sullivan died after his house collapsed, leaving no one in charge of the fire-fighting effort. Mansions burned as well as slums, and many people were separated from their families. Notices were tacked up all over town, and especially at the tent cities in Golden Gate Park, to help people reunite with loved ones.
The tent cities were organized by the army, following orders from President Theodore Roosevelt. Over 250,000 people were homeless, and more than 100,000 of them lived for months in the park, standing in long lines at relief stations for free food, water, and clothing and sleeping in temporary shelters. Across the bay, residents of Oakland welcomed the refugees escaping San Francisco by ferry. Mills College sheltered many former students, as well as professors and their families. People all over America sent help by train and boat. They sent clothes and food, medical supplies, tents, and blankets—all desperately needed by suffering San Franciscans.
Out of the chaos came accounts of brave rescue and lucky escape. There was the baby, born at home just as the earthquake caused the house to sink below street level, sealing off the doors. The newborn and her mother were rescued by two boys who climbed through a window as the fire swept toward them. Another girl was carried to safety by her father—straight out of their attic window, which had dropped to street level!
After the fires were out, the fear of fire remained. For months after the quake, even families like the Curfmans, whose homes were still standing, had to cook outdoors. No one was allowed to light a stove until the gas mains and electric lines had been repaired and an inspector had declared that cooking indoors would be safe again. In many cases, this permission did not come for nine months after the quake! At first, people made do with campfires, but as time passed, they moved their cookstoves outside or built outdoor ovens. Some people even built rustic kitchen shacks around their ovens.
Although travel in the city was difficult because of the piles of rubble from collapsed buildings, some enterprising restaurant owners hung signboards advertising their fare and set up tables and chairs in the street for customers. The business district had been totally demolished, but grocers, bakers, and seamstresses opened temporary shops on street corners.
It was months before schools were rebuilt, and although some teachers tried to hold classes outdoors, most children did not return to school until September because they stayed home to help their families. People shared space for worship services until their synagogues and churches could be rebuilt. Almost every bank had burned, but some businessmen set up makeshift counters and loaned people money to rebuild their houses.
Enrico Caruso, the great opera singer who fled San Francisco after the quake, really did sing on his ferry passage to Oakland. He vowed he would never return to San Francisco, and he never did. But even if he had, concert halls, museums, art galleries, and hotels were not rebuilt for several years. People had more pressing matters to worry about.
As San Francisco pulled itself out of the wreckage, however, families started to enjoy whatever leisure activities were still available in their desolate
, charred city. The Sutro Baths and Cliff House were popular destinations both before and after the earthquake. Neither was badly damaged in the quake, although an early newspaper account that Clara might have read reported that Cliff House had toppled into the sea.
Cliff House was first built in 1856, of lumber salvaged from a ship wrecked on the cliffs below. Cliff House burned and was rebuilt several times, and in 1896 a man named Adolph Sutro bought the property. He had made his fortune mining silver and gold and later became mayor of San Francisco. He erected a huge, eight-story Cliff House that resembled a French chateau and opened it to the public. People enjoyed the fine food and dancing, the art galleries and musical events—and also, of course, the stunning views of the ocean, Seal Rocks, and the towering cliffs. Today, there are busy roads running through bustling neighborhoods straight from Golden Gate Park down to the ocean, but in 1906 Clara would have driven across sand dunes and scrub brush to reach Cliff House. Sutro’s beautiful Cliff House burned completely in 1907, a year after the earthquake.
The nearby swimming baths also were built by Adolph Sutro. The sprawling pavilion resembled a crystal palace, and people came from all around to rent suits and swim, play on the slides and trapezes, and leap from springboards into water tanks filled by the tides. In 1906, up to 25,000 people came daily, for a fee of 25 cents. The building was demolished in 1966, and today only ruins remain on the site, right at the edge of Ocean Beach.
Ocean Beach is not a place for swimmers because of the deadly riptide and unpredictable currents that still, all too often, sweep people to their deaths. Clara’s father’s steamship met its end on the treacherous rocks, which were the scene of more than 50 shipwrecks between 1850 and 1936. In the days before foghorns, ship captains listened for the loud barks of sea lions on Seal Rocks to guide them between the dangerous headlands of the Golden Gate channel.
The Strange Case of Baby H Page 11