Shaken to the Core (46 page)

Kate experimentally moved her hand. The small bandage didn’t slip off, and neither did it hinder her movements. “Thank you. I think I’ll go back to my potatoes now.” Her gaze on Giuliana, she lingered, longing for a moment alone.

Giuliana looked just as reluctant to let her go. “Be careful, yes?”

“I’m peeling potatoes, not going off to war.” At Giuliana’s pointed gaze at her thumb, she sighed. “All right. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Giuliana squeezed her uninjured hand and then let go.

Kate turned toward Lucy.
“Can I pick her up when my shift at the food station ends?” Why did she suddenly feel like a suitor asking a lady’s father for permission to take his daughter out for a Sunday stroll?

“Sure. And now get out of my hospital.”

“Your
hospital?”

“Out!” Lucy nudged her toward the exit.

Laughing, Kate walked away. Before she ducked beneath the flap, she sent a quick glance back and found Giuliana watching her. That gaze, so full of tenderness, made her feel warm all over. Maybe cutting herself wasn’t so bad after all.

* * *

When Kate returned to the hospital a few hours later, Giuliana was glad to see her. After being on her feet for hours, rushing from patient to patient, her ankle was a little swollen and the muscles in her back and arms ached.

She glanced at Kate’s hands to make sure she hadn’t cut herself again.

No new cuts, but the small bandage on her thumb was wet and smudged. She’d have to take it off when they returned home. Kate hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She looked as if she had single-handedly peeled potatoes for each of the thousands of refugees in the camp.

Spontaneously, she pulled Kate to a stop next to the hospital tent and hugged her. “I am proud of you,” she whispered in her ear.

Kate willingly returned the embrace. “For not cutting myself again?”

Giuliana laughed. “That also. Because you helped the people when you did not have to.”

A drop splashed onto her nose.

What was that? She hadn’t sweated that much during her shift in the hospital, had she? She reached up, wiped off the liquid, and looked at her wet fingertips.

Another drop landed on her cheek. Dark spots formed on the canvas of the hospital tent.

Giuliana stepped back from their embrace and peeked up. Was it possible…?

Before she could even finish the thought, the sky opened up. A sheet of rain poured down on them.

Giuliana spread out her hands to the sides, catching some raindrops in her palms, and let out an incredulous laugh. Now that the fires were out and most of the city lay in ruins it was raining.

Kate frowned up at the sky. “We could have used the darn rain three days ago, not now!”

But complaining was no use. Together, they ran through the quickly forming mud toward their tent.

The other women had hurried back to the tent too, seeking shelter inside.

Several of them gathered by the open flap and looked outside while one pulled at the rope that moved the piece of canvas at the top of the tent, sealing off the smoke hole.

Giuliana and Kate sat side by side, their shoulders touching in the crowded space in front of the entrance, and watched the rain fall.

It showed no sign of letting up. A steady drizzle tapped out a soothing rhythm on the tent canvas. Being trapped in a crowded, smelly tent while the rain lashed down on the trampled grass should have felt miserable. Instead, with Kate’s warmth against her side, it didn’t feel that way at all.

She leaned a little more heavily against Kate’s shoulder.

Kate turned her head, and they traded secret smiles.

“Girls,” Mrs. Kohler called.

When Giuliana turned, the old woman pointed to the other side of the tent, her free hand pressed to her mouth.

Giuliana stood, holding on to Kate’s shoulder so she wouldn’t stumble—and just because she enjoyed the way it felt to touch her. She walked over to the other side of the tent. After a few steps, her shoe came down into a puddle of mud and water. She jerked it back. “Kate! The rain is in the tent!”

Kate and several of the other women joined her. They stared up at the canvas, but no rain was dripping down from there. The water must have come in beneath the tent walls.

“We need to dig a…” Giuliana waved her hand, searching for the right word in English.

“A trench?” Kate supplied.

Giuliana nodded. That was what they had done at home sometimes, when the rain had come down in torrents, forming lakes around their old house. “Do we have a shovel?”

One of the women rummaged through her bundle and held up a silver soup ladle. “How about this?”

It would have to do. Giuliana moved toward the woman to accept the improvised tool.

Gently, Kate gripped her arm and held her back. “Let me do it.”

Giuliana glanced to the tent’s open flap. Outside, the rain was still coming down hard. Whoever took over the trench digging would get soaked within a minute. “I do not mind.”

“Well, I mind. You’re no longer a maid, remember? You were limping earlier, and your hand still isn’t completely healed. So why not let me do it?”

Giuliana hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Kate gave her a subtle wink. “Contrary to popular belief, a high-society lady won’t melt into a puddle if she gets wet.”

Despite her worry about Kate catching a cold, Giuliana had to smile.

“Could you keep an eye on my carrying case?” Kate asked.

A warm glow spread through Giuliana’s chest. She knew what it meant for Kate to entrust her most-prized possession to someone else. “I keep it safe and dry.”

“I know.” Kate squeezed her arm before letting go. With the soup ladle in hand, she crossed the tent. Next to the opening, she paused and glanced back.

Giuliana gave her a nod and an encouraging smile.

Kate nodded back and then ducked beneath the flap. Within seconds, the torrents of rain seemed to swallow her.

* * *

Kate hunched her shoulders against the lashing rain dribbling down her shirtwaist collar and hurried through the mud toward the other side of the tent.

Large puddles of water had formed against the tent’s back wall.

She crouched down next to the tent stakes securing the canvas wall to the ground and began to dig.

Beneath a thin layer of earth, the ground in Golden Gate Park was mostly sand, so it wasn’t too hard to dig a narrow trench around the entire tent.

The cool wind whipped around her while she worked, driving the rain against her like sharp pinpricks. Cold water soaked her hair, dripped down her face, and made it hard to see in the dim light.

Lord, why did I volunteer for this?
But despite feeling miserable, she had to grin as she imagined what her parents would say if they could see her now, digging a trench with a silver soup ladle that might have been used to serve clam chowder in a fine mansion a week ago. For a moment, she stood in the rain and laughed.

At the side of the tent, where the ground ran slightly downhill, she dug a straight line away from their shelter so the water could run off. When she was done, she watched the puddle at the back of the tent drain. Her trench seemed to work.

Gripping the muddy soup ladle, she hastened toward the tent’s opening. Her shoes slipped on the wet grass. With a cry, she lost her balance and went down. Mud splashed. Water soaked the last dry spots on her already wet skirt, but at least she’d landed on her behind without breaking anything.

“What are you doing out here in this rain?” a voice shouted from a few yards away.

Kate looked up from where she sat in the mud.

Lucy stood in front of her. She was carrying the black leather bag that held her surgical instruments. Rivulets of rain dripped down her hair, turning it a darker shade of red. She shook the rain out of her eyes and squinted down at Kate.
“…sitting in a puddle of water with a…Is that a soup ladle?”

Oh, wonderful.
Of course Lucy would show up at the worst of all possible moments. As if Kate hadn’t already embarrassed herself enough by cutting her finger. “Yes,” she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She got up and shook grass and mud off her skirt. Not that it did much good. “I was digging a trench. And you? What are you doing out there in this weather?”

“Birthing a baby.” Lucy switched her doctor’s bag to her other hand. “Well, not me, personally. You know what I mean.”

“Kate?” Giuliana shouted from the entrance of the tent. “Are you there? Do you need help?”

Lucy looked at her with a smile. “You’d better get back, or she’ll come out looking for you.”

Kate had no doubt that Giuliana would do just that. “I’ll be right in,” she shouted before turning back to Lucy. Was there anyone waiting for her too, or would she spend the night all alone in her damp tent? “Do you want to come in? It isn’t the Palace Hotel, but at least it’s relatively dry in there, and you get used to the smell after a while.”

“Now that sounds tempting.” Lucy laughed. “No, thanks. I have to get back to the hospital. That wasn’t the only birth we’re expecting tonight. I think some of these babies waited to be born until the worst of the disaster was over.” She turned to go but then looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, before I forget…Giuliana mentioned that you want to sell your photographs to the newspaper.”

Kate sighed. “I would, if I could somehow make it to Oakland, where the
Call
set up office.”

According to the soldiers in the park, anyone could leave the city, but no one could enter without a pass from the military or the Red Cross, so even if she could somehow get on a ferry with the carrying case, she wouldn
’t be allowed to return.

“Well, just keep peeling potatoes.”

“How’s that going to help me?”

“It means you’re a Red Cross volunteer.” Lucy grinned from ear to ear even though rain was dripping off her chin. “I could get you a special permit.”

For a moment, Kate stood as if struck by lightning. She didn
’t feel the cold or the rain anymore. An entirely unladylike whoop escaped her, but she didn’t care. She splashed through the mud toward Lucy and engulfed her in a hug. “If you ever need anything…anything at all from me, let me know.”

Lucy waved her away and pointed toward the tent. “Go and get dry.”

“Thank you, Lucy.” Kate rushed to the entrance. She couldn’t wait to tell Giuliana. Then she stopped.
Darn.
She had forgotten one vital thing. Her darkroom had burned along with the rest of the mansion. She might have found a way to get to Oakland, but without a place to develop her prints, she would have no photographs to show Mr. Fulton once she got there.

Shoulders slumping, she entered the tent.

* * *

Giuliana sat on the edge of a cot, carefully spooning broth into the mouth of a patient with two thickly bandaged hands. When he signaled to her that he
’d had enough, she put down the spoon and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“Thank you, dear. I feel as helpless as a newborn babe without the use of my hands.” He stared down at his bandaged limbs.

She gently patted his shoulder. “Do not worry. Dr. Sharpe said they heal well. How did you hurt the hands? Was it the fire?” The angry burns on his skin had looked like it.

“No. It was the darned earthquake.”

The earthquake? How could the tremors burn his hands? She gave him a quizzical look.

“I had just poured the acids to mix the stop bath when the quake started.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. “You burned the hands with a bath?” Even very hot water couldn’t do that much damage, could it?

The patient laughed. “Not just any bath. A stop bath. It’s for processing photographs. My brother and I own a photographic portrait studio, you see?”

Giuliana nearly spilled the rest of the broth as her hands started to shake. “Your house…was it destroyed from the earthquake?”

“No. We live in the Western Addition. Not much damage there, so my brother is getting ready to reopen our business.”

That meant they still had everything necessary to print pictures. Her hands clamped around the bowl, Giuliana sent him a pleading gaze. “My friend is a
fotografa
also. She makes very good pictures of the earthquake and the fires. But her room…the one without the light…it burned, and now she cannot make her pictures and sell them to…” She snapped her mouth shut, realizing she was babbling and her English was slipping. Two deep breaths and she tried again. “Do you think…if your tools are still good, can my friend use them to make her pictures? I will pay you.”

Quickly, she reached into the pouch around her waist and took out the four dollars she still had.

He put one of his bandaged hands on top of hers. “No.”

“No?” Giuliana averted her gaze so he wouldn’t see the tears that came to her eyes. They had been so close to finding the solution Kate longed for.

“No,” he repeated. “I don’t want your money. If your friend needs to use my equipment, I’ll lend it to her for free.”

She stared at him. “You will let her do this?”

“Sure, why not? One photographer should always help another, especially in times like these. Bring your friend over, and I’ll introduce her to my brother.”

Giuliana gave him a careful hug and pressed a kiss to his graying beard. “Thank you.”

Blinking, he pressed a bandaged palm to his cheek and then chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

CHAPTER 21

Haverstock Portrait Studio

Western Addition

San Francisco, California

April 23, 1906

Giuliana tried hard not to fidget while she stared at the closed door of the darkroom and then over to the golden clock on the mantle. Kate had been in there for close to an hour. She hoped that meant that all the glass plates were in good condition, so Kate had to develop a lot of photographs, and not that something had gone wrong.

Leaning back against the brocade chair, she tried to relax her shoulders, but the tension returned immediately. Even the luxurious surroundings didn’t help—quite the opposite. After sleeping outside or in a tent for four nights, being surrounded by walls felt strange, as did sitting at a linen-covered table. It made her a little uneasy to be in a building, surrounded by brick walls that could crash down on her, trap her, if another earthquake came.