Shaken to the Core (48 page)

The ferryman hesitated and squinted at the piece of paper.

The people behind them pressed forward, shoving Kate and nearly making her fall at the feet of the deckhand.

Giuliana’s grip on her elbow held her upright. Instead of glaring over her shoulder, Kate kept her attention on the deckhand. “This is important.” She imitated the tone she’d heard her father use when he spoke on the telephone with business partners or city officials. “If you delay us, you could get into trouble.”

“Get on, then. But keep that thing out of the way.” The deckhand waved them through.

Not waiting for him to change his mind, Kate hurried across the gangplank, tightly holding on to Giuliana and the carrying case.

* * *

For some reason, Kate had expected Oakland to have escaped the earthquake completely unharmed. But as they stepped off the train that had taken them into town from the ferry dock, the first thing she saw were fallen chimneys and piles of bricks on the sidewalks.

At least no fires had ravaged this city, so Kate suspected that the tents that had been set up in every park housed refugees from San Francisco. In front of every church they passed, long lines of people waited for a piece of bread or a bowl of soup.

How could a city the size of Oakland house and feed thousands of refugees?

But Kate didn’t intend to stay around to find out. She marched straight to Eighth Street, where the joint newspaper had been printed last Thursday.

“There!” Kate pointed to a building at the corner of Franklin Street. “That’s the
Oakland Tribune.”

At the front door, they paused and faced each other.

“Do you want me to wait or go with you?” Giuliana asked.

Kate hesitated. She would have loved for Giuliana to come in with her and support her all the way to Mr. Fulton’s desk, but that would only confirm the editor’s preconceived notion that women weren’t tough enough to be out on the streets and take photographs of more than fashion and baking contests. “I think I’ll have to do this alone.”

Giuliana gave her a quick hug and looked left and right before brushing her lips over Kate’s cheek in a tender kiss. “For good luck.”

Kate waited a moment for the flush on her face to recede, then she took a fortifying breath and climbed the three steps to the entrance. One last glance back and a touch to her cheek, where she could still feel Giuliana’s lips, and the heavy oak door fell closed behind her.

* * *

It would probably take a while for Kate to return, so Giuliana sat on the top step and rubbed her aching ankle. She kept her gaze on her shoes and didn’t allow her gaze—or her attention—to stray, as if Kate’s success depended on Giuliana sending her positive thoughts.

As a child, she’d secretly smiled about her grandmother’s superstitions, but at a time like this, it might be better not to take any chances.

The front door opened.

Giuliana moved to the side, expecting to see a businessman or a newsboy leaving the building.

Instead, Kate descended the three steps, the carrying case in her hand.

Oh no.
That couldn’t be good. It had been less than three minutes since Kate had headed into the building. Had the
Call’
s
editor dismissed her without even looking at Kate’s photographs? “What happened?” she asked, already wishing she wouldn’t need to hear the answer.

“The
Call
isn’t here anymore,” Kate said.

“Did they go back to San Francisco?”

Kate shook her head. “No. They moved to the plant of the
Oakland Enquirer
on Tenth Street, just two or three blocks from here.”

Well, at least all wasn’t lost, even though it meant that poor Kate would have to go through the whole procedure all over again. She looked pale and stretched to the limit already, but she squared her shoulders and set out toward Tenth Street.

Giuliana followed. At least there was one good thing about this complication: she’d get to give Kate another good-luck kiss.

* * *

If Kate had thought she’d been nervous heading into the
Oakland Tribune
plant, it was nothing compared to how she felt when she stepped into the
Enquirer
building. She was stretched taught like a rope holding up a ton of weight.

Her fingers went numb from gripping the carrying case so tightly. With trembling knees, she climbed the stairs to the newspaper’s offices.

Frosted glass covered the top half of the door. She tried to peek inside but could make out only shapes. The tapping sounds of reporters typing up their stories drifted through the door.

She inhaled deeply, held her breath for as long as she could, and then blew it out. Not allowing herself to hesitate another second, she knocked on the opaque glass.

No one opened the door or called for her to enter. Hadn’t they heard the knock over the noise of the typewriters?

Kate tapped on the glass with a little more force. The pane rattled loudly.

“What the hell…?” a voice boomed. Then the door was wrenched open, and Mr. Fulton loomed over her, his large body filling the doorframe and blocking out the sight of the newsroom behind him.

A wave of nausea swept over Kate. Every instinct told her to turn and run, but she stood her ground. This was her one and only chance to secure her future. If she couldn’t face Mr. Fulton, she didn’t deserve to have Giuliana in her life. “Good day, Mr. Fulton. I trust you made it through the disaster without harm to your person or your family.”

The angry flush on his broad face faded a little. “I don’t have a family, but as you can see, I’m fine.” His tone was gruff. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Kathryn Winthrop. We talked last month about a possible position as a staff photographer.” Well, she had talked about it while he had stared at her in disbelief.

He took the cigar out of his mouth and twirled one end of his handlebar mustache as if that would help jog his memory. “Oh, right,” he said after a moment. “You’re that girl.”

“I’m not a girl, Mr. Fulton.” Kate made her voice as firm as possible. “I’m a photographer. And I brought you a bunch of photographs that you don’t want to miss out on. Could we step into your office for a moment so you can take a look at them?”

Ash rained down on the landing as he waved his hand. “It’s not that I don’t admire your persistence, Miss…”

“Winthrop.”

He nodded but didn’t repeat her name, as if he’d already forgotten it again. “I haven’t changed my mind about female photographers. Quite the opposite, in fact. These are dangerous times. One of our photographers had his camera destroyed and was nearly shot by soldiers, just for doing his job. Another was badly burned when he tried to photograph the conflagration South of the Slot. A woman could—and should—never take photographs under these circumstances. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

Before Kate could reply, he stepped back and started to close the door between them.

Kate jumped forward.

The door hit her in the arm. Pain flared through her, but she didn’t step back, nor did she let go of her carrying case.

“Give me just one minute. I swear you won’t regret it.”

“One minute.” He pointed the ash tip of his cigar at her. “Then you will never bother me again.”

Kate tilted her head in silent agreement.

He opened the door farther and waved her in.

The
Oakland Enquirer
was a much smaller paper than the
San Francisco Call
. The entire office at the
Call’s
disposal consisted of only one large room. Mr. Fulton marched toward a desk in the middle of the newsroom.

As Kate followed him in, several reporters glanced up from their work and gave her curious looks.

“Mind your own business, boys,” Mr. Fulton said. It sounded almost affectionate, as if he were chiding a couple of unruly children. He pulled out his desk chair and indicated for Kate to sit in it while he perched on the corner of his desk. The poor piece of furniture gave a pitiful groan but managed to carry his weight. “So, show me those pictures.”

Kate gingerly sat, placed the carrying case on her lap, and opened it. Trying hard to keep her hands steady, she pulled out her stack of photographs. At the last moment, she remembered to hold back the photographs of Giuliana and North Beach before the disaster and placed the rest of the photographs and their glass-plate negatives on the desk in front of him.

Mr. Fulton looked through them one by one. The glowing tip of his cigar bathed his face in an orange light as he took a long drag. When he had viewed the last photograph, he puffed out a ring of smoke and studied her for what seemed like the longest minute of Kate’s life.

Fingers knotted together on her lap, Kate somehow managed not to fidget. She met his gaze with her head held up high.

“You took those photographs?” He gave them a gentle tap.

Kate nodded.

“How?” Mr. Fulton asked.

“With a Century Grand shooting glass-plate negatives, sir.”

He cracked the first smile she’d seen from him. “No, I mean, how did you manage not to have the soldiers take the camera away from you?”

Kate decided not to tell him that they nearly had. “The soldiers made the same mistake you did, sir.” She bit her lip and prayed that her frank words wouldn’t make him angry.

But he just flicked a bit of ash from the cigar tip and studied her calmly. “Which is?”

“You underestimate women. You don’t think they make good photographers. The soldiers never suspected either.”

“You might have a point there.” Mr. Fulton put his half-smoked cigar out in an overflowing ash tray. “How much do you want for the exclusive rights to these photographs?”

Kate could see where this was going. She faced him firmly. “I don’t just want to sell the photographs. I want a position as a staff photographer. If you hire me, I’ll sell you the photographs. And I’ll take even more for you.”

He shook his head. “Impossible. They’re not letting anyone enter the city. You won’t be able to get back.”

She pulled the Red Cross pass out of her coat pocket and showed it to him with a smile.

Fulton squinted at the paper. “What makes you think we’re hiring?”

“Well, you said one of your photographers was badly burned, so you need someone to replace him.”

“You’re not gonna hire a woman photographer, are you, boss?” one of the reporters called over.

The only female journalist in the room threw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

“Shut up,” Mr. Fulton said without looking away from Kate. He leaned his elbow on his thigh and tapped his knuckles against his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t be able to pay you more than our cub reporters—fifteen dollars a week.”

It was less than the weekly allowance Kate got from her father, but she knew Giuliana lived on a third of that. “That sounds all right.” Kate tried to sound nonchalant even though she could barely contain her excitement.

“Don’t make me regret it, Miss Winthrop.”

So he knew her name after all. “I won’t.”

“All right. It’s worth a try. We’ll probably relocate back to San Francisco within a week or two. Until then, just keep your eyes open and your camera ready.” He reached for the photographs on his desk.

Kate quickly put her hand on top.

A frown made his eyebrows meet over his eyes. “You said if I hired you, you’d give me the photographs.”

Kate kept her hand on the stack of images and refused to look away. “I said I’d
sell
you the photographs.” She imitated the tone her father used in business negotiations. “So, make me an offer.”

“Gosh, girl. I’m starting to realize how you managed to take all these photographs and not have them taken away.” He shook his head at her, but she had a feeling his mustache hid a tiny smile. “All right. Never let it be said that I didn’t keep my word.” He fished a coin from the inside pocket of his vest and pressed it into Kate’s hand.

She looked at the coin on her palm. It was a shiny golden double eagle. That would allow them to rent a cabin for almost a year. Kate tried to hide her large grin but didn’t quite manage.

Mr. Fulton pushed up from the corner of his desk and made a shooing motion. “Now let me get some work done. This newspaper isn’t going to write itself.”

Kate grabbed her carrying case, which now held just her camera and the pictures of North Beach, jumped up, and vacated his chair. “No, sir. Of course not. Thank you.” She strode toward the door with a bounce in her step and the coin in her hand.

As she walked past the female reporter, the woman smiled at her.

Kate grinned back. She felt like spinning, skipping, and dancing the entire way to the door. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy, maybe with the exception of when she’d found Giuliana beneath the rubble of the collapsed boardinghouse. Somehow she managed to make it outside and close the frosted-glass door before letting out a whoop.

Answering laughter drifted through the door, but Kate was too happy to mind.

She raced down the stairs, taking two steps at once in an entirely unladylike fashion, wrenched open the front door, and jumped directly into Giuliana’s arms. “He gave me a job! And he even paid me for the photographs.”

Even though Giuliana was shorter, she managed to twirl Kate once, carrying case and all. “I knew it! You are so good, he cannot say no.”

Kate hadn’t been so sure, but she appreciated Giuliana’s trust in her. When her feet touched the ground again, she stood looking at Giuliana and combed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Lord, how much she wanted to kiss her now or at least hold her like this forever.

“What happens now? Do we stay in Oakland?” Giuliana asked.

“No. Everything newsworthy is happening in San Francisco right now. The newspaper wants me to stay there and keep an eye out for anything worthy of a photograph.”

“Good. San Francisco is home.”

“Is it? Even now that it’s in ruins?” Kate watched her carefully for any sign that Giuliana was still a bit homesick and would one day want to return to Sicily or go to New York, where she could earn more money.

“Yes,” Giuliana said as if she didn’t even have to think about it. “It is where you are, no?”