“Mom has been sick,” Monica said.
“There are many sick people and many deaths.”
Kim sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, knitting a sweater.
“Mom, Grandma’s here.”
“Who?” She stood up.
They hugged, cried, and spoke in a language Monica, but for an occasional word, didn’t understand.
“Sit down Grandma,” Monica said while moving a chair near the couch for herself.
The old woman sat at Kim’s side.
Monica’s mother asked, “How did you find me?”
“A young man from our tribe saw you and told me. I went to Ft. Vancouver. A kind doctor told me how to get here. The streets are empty.”
“Lots of sickness.”
“Much death among our people. Before, more than one-hundred in our clan. Now eleven.”
Kim sucked in her breath, then asked, “My father, sister, and brother?”
“Gone.”
“Your sisters and brothers?”
She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Many think the whites have poisoned us.”
Kim said, “The whites are ill as well.”
“They brought this sickness and are evil.”
“There are good whites,” Kim said. “My business is with white people. Monica studies with a white family every day after school. A white boy is taking care of Monica and me.”
The old woman engaged in a deep sigh, pushed her hands into her lap, and asked in a shaky voice, “Kimimela, my heart is heavy to add a burden to your life, but my body is weak with age and I no longer have a place to live.”
“Of course. You stay with us.”
Grandma bowed her head. “Thank you, Daughter.” She glanced at Monica then back to Kimimela. “One day one of your children or grandchildren will do the same for you.”
“Grandma,” Monica asked, “what’s your name?”
Grandma said a word that Monica couldn’t say. The old woman and Kimimela laughed at Monica’s attempts to pronounce it.
“The whites can’t say it either so like them, you may call me Susan.”
“Mom, you’re breathing hard,” Monica said. She turned to her grandmother. “Mother needs to rest.”
“Yes. Rest and heal.” She patted her daughter’s shoulder and smiled at Monica. “My beautiful granddaughter.”
William entered the room with a load of kindling. He kneeled in front of the fire place and poked the fire.
Monica said, “William, I want to introduce my grandmother.”
He rocked back onto his feet and approached.
“Kimimela son?” she asked.
“No…cousin,” Monica responded with a sly grin.
The old woman appeared confused.
“I’ll get my brothers.”
“How about some warm tea?” William offered.
“Warm. My old bones could use warm,” the old woman said.
* * *
Four weeks after the flu epidemic ended, Andrew watched as Daire put Jack and Angela to bed.
They returned to the parlor. “Daire, I appreciate you living here and taking care of the children and me.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for entertaining Angela while I helped Jack with his lessons.”
“She’s a doll.” He became quiet for a moment, then said, “I’d like to discuss a more permanent arrangement.”
“I’ll help you raise Jack as a Jew but Angela and I will remain Catholic. You and I can marry in a civil ceremony to keep the family together.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“Yes. Sweet Angela’s been dependent on me since her mother died and Jack is a constant and joyous reminder of Kathleen.”
“Do you want to remain in your own room?”
“It’s only four weeks since my sister died so at least until we’re married.”
He nodded.
Daire smiled an rested her hand on his arm. “Give me some time. I know men have needs. Believe it or not, so do women.”
With reluctance in his voice, Andrew said, “Your sister and I didn’t do well…” He nodded to the bedroom.
“I know but I’m not my sister.” She smiled. “You definitely put a star in my constellation.”
“A star in your…?” He laughed. “It’s a great relief knowing you’ll be here.”
“We continue to take care of each other and who knows—we might become more than married housemates.”
Chapter Twenty-One: Noah Katzoff
Sixteen-year-old William read while seated on the front porch of his parent’s home on a warm late spring day. He sniffed the air.
“Burning wood,” he mumbled
He walked into the middle of the street and turned toward the center of town. A column of black smoke rose into the air. The fire bell clanged.
“That’s near the orphanage.”
His feet dug into the soil covered street while accelerating to a full sprint.
Gazing out the front windows of the dress shop, Monica saw him running past. She headed out the door, hoisted her skirt with one hand and ran after him. Approaching the burning buildings, they heard children crying and screaming. The building adjacent to the orphanage had flames pouring out of its roof. Smoke curled out of the second floor windows of the childrens’ home. Men running to the scene organized a bucket brigade as directed by the volunteer firefighters.
One of the firemen, identified by his red shirt, ran out of the orphanage carrying three small children. He was unsteady on his feet while gagging and coughing.
“Let me have them,” William yelled over the cracks and pops of the burning wood.
“Get the children away from the buildings,” the fireman said in-between rasping coughs and gasps for clean air. “More structures are likely to catch fire. You stay out here and keep the kids together. I’m going back for more.”
A nun stumbled out carrying a baby in one arm and pulling a young boy. Two coughing, gagging children walked behind her, holding tight to her skirt. Her hair was singed, her face streaked with black, and her habit smoldered in places. The sound of a window exploding caused the children to shriek. The high pitched noise added an exclamation point to the crackling sound of the fire as it consumed the wooden structures.
“Give me the baby,” Monica called out. She took the tiny one and placed his head against her shoulder. He repeatedly coughed; each accompanied by a puff of smoke. His entire body convulsed with each attempt to clear his lungs.
“This is Noah Katzoff; six-months-old and a good boy,” the nun said patting his back. She turned to her young charges. “Follow this girl away from the fire,” Before re-entering the building, she pushed aside the fireman who beseeched her to remain outside.
David and his workers from the warehouse rushed past and joined the bucket brigade.
“Here comes the fire pump!” a voice in the crowd yelled. Pulled by a team of six horses, the heavy pump slowed them to an exhausted rapid walk despite their driver’s entreaties to move faster. The equines arrived covered in sweat and breathing heavily.
“Poor things pulled that monster from over two-miles away,” someone said while passing a bucket to the man next to him.
Men stretched out the pump’s hoses which led to the river while a team of men moved the long handles of the mechanical pump. Two firemen guided the stream which barely made it into the second story windows. As the men at the pump tired, others from the bucket brigade took their place. One fireman threw buckets of water on the horses to cool them.
William ferried numerous little ones to an area up the street. Drs. Beckham and Young examined the children and a few adults.
Monica clung tight to Noah who emitted pitiful cries in between coughing fits. She noticed his saliva was filled with black specks.
Dr. Beckham examined him. “Run your finger around the inside of his mouth to get as much of that stuff out as possible. Don’t let him swallow it if you can.” He examined child after ch
ild and bandaged their burns. “William, as soon as you get the children away from the fire I’m going to need help.”
A screaming boy ran out with pants and shirt on fire. Three of the volunteers drenched him with water. William pealed the child’s pants off and discovered some of the material embedded in ugly looking burns. The acrid scent of his burned flesh added to the smell of the burning buildings.
“He’s stopped breathing,” William said. Dr. Young checked the boy and shook his head. William carried him to where other bodies were being collected and covered with blankets.
A second nun came out of the building with two toddlers. Handing them to William, she turned to re-enter the burning structure. Two fireman restrained her.
“There are more children inside,” she pleaded while trying to push through their restraint.
“It’s too dangerous now,” a fireman beseeched her. “The injured children who’ve survived will need you.”
The Sister reluctantly allowed herself to be guided away; her body wracked with sobs.
William approached Monica with a toddler in each arm.
“The front wall’s coming down,” a terrified voice yelled.
William turned away from the buildings and pulled the two children close. He arched his body over them as debris flew past him. Firemen ran to the horses to steady them after the loud noise.
He checked the youngsters. They weren’t hurt but cried and trembled. One of them pointed. Monica was flat on her back, twisting and moaning, while Noah cried at her side. A nasty three-inch-gash just below the baby’s hairline bled profusely.
William kneeled at Noah’s side. Monica sat up, holding her head with both hands. “Ouch that hurt. Something hit me.”
He brought the edges of Noah’s laceration together then screamed for Dr. Beckham.
The doctor examined the wound, opened his medical bag and handed William a needle and thread.
The fifteen-year-old’s eyes widened. “I’ll keep it closed until you…”
“Damn it! Close that laceration or he bleeds to death. Your choice.”
William steeled himself. “How far apart?”
“Same as the newborn.”
Monica moaned and asked, “What happened? What’s going on? How’s the baby?”
“I have to close this. Keep him still.”
She put him on her lap then steadied Noah’s head with one hand and kept his hands from interfering with the other. The little one screamed anew with each needle insertion.
“Done,” William said with a sigh.
Dr. Beckham approached and examined his work. “Get a bandage from the Sister and cover his wound, then see Dr. Young. He has more for you to do.”
Monica cradled Noah against her and patted his back. The little one cried loud sobs. She said, “It’s over, it’s over. You’re going to get better now.”
* * *
Kim and Victor Anchote arrived at the scene. He joined the bucket brigade.
Kim watched kneeling Monica who still held Noah while William sutured a gash in a toddler’s leg. “What happened? Poor little one. Is he alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” Dr. Beckham shouted over the sound of the children who screamed due to their burns.
“Momma, hold the baby. I feel dizzy. William, help me sit over there.”
William assisted her to her feet. He kept an arm around her while they moved to the wood planked sidewalk. Dr. Young yelled for William.
“I’m needed.”
William walked away but looked back over his shoulder at Monica. She gave him a proud smile.
Kim said, “I should get you and this little one home.”
“Not yet. Who’s watching the twins?”
“Grandmother.”
Tiny Noah began a violent series of coughs. His entire body convulsed with each.
Monica cleared his mouth and wiped his chin. “Go ahead without me. I want to sit here and watch my future husband repair children.”
“He comes from a wealthy family. Surely they will chose a wife from a wealthy family.”
“Look at him. Just like the doctors. Repairing child after child. He truly has a doctor’s hands.”
“You said he didn’t wish to study medicine.”
“Like you’ve told me many times, we don’t know His plans for us.”
A nun handed Monica a bottle for Noah.
Two hours later, the fire was out; three buildings reduced to smoldering ash plus piles of brick and stone where the fireplaces and chimneys once stood. A few fireman walked around pouring water on any remaining hotspots. Dr. Beckham shook William’s hand and Dr. Young slapped him on the shoulder. Their reluctant assistant grinned sheepishly then approached Monica and her mom.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“It hurts.”
“Dr. Beckham asked if you could watch the baby for a few days.”
“I will,” Monica said. “William, we’re going home. Please walk next to me. You can steady me if I become dizzy.”
Kim raised an eyebrow at her daughter then turned to William. “Many badly injured?”
“A number of dead including one of the nuns.”
“The children?”
“Some weren’t breathing and had no heartbeat when I checked them. Half the children I worked on will be okay but the others will need lots of time to heal. Many sustained awful burns and lacerations. I lost count of how many sutures I put in.”
Kim said, “You put your ear to a thing, then pressed the other end to the children’s chest.”
“Dr. Young taught me to check for heart and breathing sounds.”
In front of the dress shop, Monica tripped and stumbled into William who quickly wrapped his arms around her torso to support her.
“Are you dizzy again?”
“Yes. I may have tripped over something.”
“Let’s get you inside,” he said.
He helped her to the residence and onto their couch. “I better get back; they’ll need help with cleanup.”
Monica gave him a radiant smile. “Thank you, William.”
“Sure. Dr. Beckham said he’ll want to see the baby in a week.”
“I’ll remember.”
Kim watched the door close behind him. She turned to her daughter and wagged a finger. “That was a cheap trick.”
In an innocent tone, Monica replied, “What was?”
“I may not have much book learning but one thing I know for certain. My daughter is as sure footed as a mountain goat.”
“I felt his arms around me today. Who knows when that might happen again.”
“He’s white. You’re not.”
“I’m half white.”
“He’s …”
“Jewish,” Monica said.
“I fear you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
Monica leaned back, cuddled Noah against her, and closed her eyes. “William and I rescued children today.”
“Get a blanket to wrap the child.”
She folded a blanket and placed Noah on it. He cried. Monica picked him up and the crying subsided. Placing him back on the blanket he cried again.
Kim said, “He’s scared, poor thing. Keep holding him. Noah doesn’t know us yet but if we hold him and talk to him he’ll feel secure.”
Chapter Twenty-Two: William’s Choice
Five hours later, William stopped by the dress shop. “Dr. Beckham wants to know how the baby was doing; he said the coughing should be subsiding.”
“It’s slowed considerably,” Kim said. “He’s scared but no other injuries,” She held out the baby. “Would you mind holding Noah while we get some chores done?”
“Hi little guy.” He put him against his chest and patted his back while walking around the room. “You can hold your head up pretty well for such a tiny person.” He received a brief smile with a cheery vocalization. The little one rubbed his nose against William’s shoulder then, after a deep cough, turned to rest his forehead against his neck.
“Look at them,” Kim whispered to her daughter. “The baby felt secure the moment William held him.”
Monica grinned and whispered, “As did I.”
Kim asked, “William, how did you manage when you dealt with…”
“Children who died?”
“Yes.”
“I kind of put them out of my mind and concentrated on the next patient…can I call them patients? I’m not a doctor.” He slowly shook his head. “A few died while I worked on them. They’re faces will haunt me. One little boy, covered in burns, grabbed my arm. His eye’s pleaded for relief but there was little I could do.” He patted Noah for a while. “I felt pain in the pit of my stomach when I saw how many bodies were lined up. So sad we couldn’t save more.”
“You saved many of them,” Kim said.
“I assisted Drs. Young and Beckham and followed their orders. That’s all.”
* * *
“I can run real faster than everybody and jump real higher than everybody,” a three-year-old said demonstrating a mighty three-year-old leap.
With the little one, Dr. Beckham, David, Monica and William sat on the Kaplan’s front porch.
“Billy,” Dr. Beckham said, “would you mind showing us your scars.”
The three-year-old pulled up his pant leg.
“These are scars where a doctor fixed me here and here.” He pointed at his knee and ankle.
Dr. Beckham turned to William with raised eyebrows. “Your handiwork.”
“Lucky hands. That’s all.”
The doctor said, “Besides incredible hands you have an excellent mind. Father McMahon said you’re one of the best Latin and German students he’s ever taught. That’s indicative of a superb intellect and we haven’t even discussed your mathematical prowess.”
The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific Page 12