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more firewood.” She turned back to the kettle and began mov-
ing the clean sheets to the rinse water.
When she turned back around, Judith was gone. Kenzie let
out a sigh of relief. She didn’t want to discuss Micah and risk
thoughts and feelings coming to the surface that she’d just have
to explain away later. She cared about his well-being, of course.
But nothing more. Nothing.
Kenzie glanced toward the warehouse. It wasn’t much to look
at. The exterior was in bad need of a paint job, but Patrick had
made sure the structure was sound. He had also arranged to
add a few more windows, for which Kenzie was very grateful.
The small private rooms that they had arranged for themselves
had been dark and cramped when she’d first been shown the
warehouse.
Camri had insisted that each of the rooms have a window.
“Even if we use them for nothing more than offices,” she had
told her brother and fiancé, “we’re going to want the extra
light.”
Kenzie smiled at the memory. Camri was good at getting what
she wanted, and the windows had served them well. Life would
have been much worse if they’d all had to take up residence in
one of the relief camps. Tent life was not at all appealing, and
neither was the idea of living under the army’s thumb. Although
at the moment, it seemed the entire city was obliged to do the
military’s bidding.
Once she had transferred the clean sheets to the rinse water,
Kenzie put new dirty sheets into the soapy water. Sheets were
a small luxury that Camri had decided on when planning for
the warehouse to become a home for women and children who
were down on their luck. She had thought it would add a homey
touch to the simple cots. Kenzie admitted that it did, but it also
added extra work. Especially since Camri had decided that
sheets needed to be washed once a week. She had no doubt
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read somewhere that this was the optimum schedule for the best
hygiene. Camri was college educated and seemed to have a vast
amount of knowledge about many things. Kenzie admired her
genius, although at times she found Camri more than a little
exasperating.
A shriek of laughter drew her attention as a group of chil-
dren ran around the corner of the warehouse. Three little girls
pursued a scruffy dog. The brown-and-white mongrel held a
ball in its mouth and apparently was winning a game of keep-
away. Kenzie couldn’t help but smile. In the midst of disaster,
it was nice to see such happiness.
With her work done, Kenzie decided to grab a quick bite to
eat. She made her way to the opposite side of the warehouse,
where their outdoor dining and kitchen had been arranged.
“Miss Gifford,” a woman called from where she sat at one
of the tables.
Kenzie went to her. “Yes, Mrs. Clark?”
The gray-haired woman held up a bowl of oatmeal and gave
her a grandmotherly smile. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”
Her kindness touched Kenzie. She took the bowl and smiled.
“Thank you. I wanted to get the first batch of sheets washed.”
“Well, you needn’t worry with anything else.” Mrs. Clark
rose from the bench. “Gladys and I will take it in hand.”
Kenzie put the bowl of cereal on the table, then reached out
to help the old woman up. The long trestle tables and benches
suited the feeding of a great many people but were difficult for
the elderly to manage.
“Thank you, dear. Now you sit down and eat. You’re far
too skinny.”
It was useless to argue. Kenzie gave a nod. “I just put the
last of the sheets in the wash water. You may need to add some
more soap.”
Mrs. Clark cackled. “Now ain’t that something? A sweet
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young girl like you tellin’ the likes of me how to wash clothes.
Been washin’ them since I was able to walk. My ma saw noth-
ing good to be gained in idleness.”
Mrs. Andrews appeared from inside the warehouse. She was
a short, stocky woman whose piercing blue eyes missed noth-
ing. “I’m ready to tend to the laundry with you, Minnie. I had
to speak to Penelope. She has her little granddaughters with
her today. It seems their mama and papa are working to clean
bricks. Anyway, I told her it was probably best if she helped
with something else and we managed the laundry.”
“Good idea, Gladys. I wouldn’t want those little ones around
the fire.” Mrs. Clark nodded her approval. They continued chat-
ting about the matter as they left Kenzie to her breakfast.
The oatmeal tasted bland. At least it wasn’t smoky. Kenzie
sprinkled a bit of sugar onto the cereal and dug in. Milk and
cream were luxuries they couldn’t afford, even when they could
be found, so Kenzie did her best to swallow the thick porridge
without it. She fondly recalled breakfast at Caleb’s house, where
his housekeeper, Mrs. Wong, would fix bacon and eggs, biscuits
and gravy, and even the occasional pot of oatmeal. The differ-
ence between her cereal and this, however, was like night and
day. Mrs. Wong put cinnamon and other spices in her oatmeal,
as well as a generous helping of raisins and cream.
“I’ve been going over the books since five, and they still prove
only one thing,” Camri said, joining Kenzie. She put a cup of
coffee in front of Kenzie.
“What’s that?” Kenzie continued eating.
Camri frowned. “Coffee, of course.”
“No, I meant what do the books prove?”
“Oh, that. We need more supplies. We have fifty-seven people,
not counting ourselves and Judith, and of course Caleb and
Patrick.” She shook her head, and her hastily pinned hair threat-
ened to come undone. Camri began fussing with the hairpins.
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Micah. He’s heard nothing. Neither have the Fishers. I heard him
speaking with Pastor Fisher last night. It would seem Micah’s
doing a great deal of work away from the hospitals.”
“But he’s alive?” Kenzie tried not to sound overly worried.
“He was, but there have been so many buildings collapsing
and people killed. No one has seen Micah since the earthquake,
and you know very well that the fires have been deadlier. Caleb’s
terribly worried. I am too. Caleb said that one of the newspapers
mentioned a doctor being killed a couple of days ago—they
had found an unconscious man pinned in one of the buildings
that hadn’t burned. Apparently the doctor went to help, and
he and the others were killed when the building collapsed. It
didn’t mention his identity.”
Kenzie knew it was senseless to pretend she didn’t care. Micah
was just the sort to rush into an unsafe building to save a life.
“I’ve been praying for him and for Cousin George.”
Camri nodded. “Poor Mr. Lake. I hope he managed to get to
safety. Caleb was going to speak to the soldiers in charge of that
area and see if they’d heard anything. They’ve started posting
notes at the relief camps. Someone came up with the idea to
create a board where people could tack up the names of those
they’re looking for. We should probably send someone to put
up your cousin’s name. Micah’s too. Oh, and then check with
the people handling . . . the dead.”
Kenzie’s throat constricted. She hated to think of her cousin
dead, even though the odds were good that he was. But to con-
sider Micah dead was almost more than she could bear. It wasn’t
because she had special feelings for him, but she hated to think
of someone so talented being killed. At least, that was what
she kept telling herself.
“I’ll go. I’ll write up notes that we’re looking for George and
Micah and post them on the relief camp boards.”
Camri seemed to consider this for a moment. “I suppose
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that would be good, but let’s wait until Caleb and Patrick get
back from their meeting. They should be back anytime, and
they might have word.”
Kenzie pushed her unfinished oatmeal aside. “I’ll go write
up the notes.”
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fall in love with him. She had lost her heart once. She wasn’t
going to be fool enough to do it again.
“I think we should make a place where we can receive and
inventory the supplies,” Caleb continued.
“I figure the dining tables are perfectly situated,” Camri said,
glancing toward their outdoor dining room.
“Generally I’d agree with you, but I saw Mrs. Wong, and she
said it was going to rain this afternoon.” Like the others, Kenzie
marveled at Caleb’s former housekeeper’s ability to forecast
the weather.
“How are the Wongs? I wish they could have stayed with
us,” Camri replied.
“They’re well. They’re helping their friends and family.
Chinatown was completely burned to the ground. The Chinese
have lost most everything, and now the Board of Supervisors
wants to move Chinatown out south of Golden Gate Park, well
away from the city. The land where Chinatown used to sit is
being coveted, I’m afraid.”
“That’s completely against the law, isn’t it?” Camri asked.
“It depends. The law these days is pretty much being inter-
preted as we go. The army acts as though they’re in charge,
although martial law hasn’t been declared. I suppose we should
be grateful for the order they helped bring, but they are also seen
as the reason so much of the city burned. Most of the people
handling dynamite for the backfires had no idea what they were
doing. They caused more harm than good.”
Judith looped her arm through his. “But they were doing
their best. We have to remember that. I’m sure they feel ter-
rible about it.”
“For sure that’s possible,” Patrick jumped in with his Irish
brogue. “But I’m thinkin’ they enjoy bossin’ folks around.”
“Not to mention they’ve been given approval to shoot looters
and miscreants on sight.”
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instructed one of the soldiers to boil. Seeing the water was ready,
Micah took out his instruments and dropped them into the pot.
Cleaning anything was difficult, but he still did his best to keep
some semblance of order and procedure. It was a well-known
fact that proper sanitation was absolutely necessary, yet many
doctors paid it little heed. Here, in a building that had once
manufactured shoes, Micah was fairly certain sterilization was
never a top concern.
“Doctor, we need you over here,” a nurse called.
Micah quickly retrieved a clean towel and fished the tools of
his trade from the water. He wrapped the cloth around the wet
instruments and pushed the bundle into his bag.
“What’s the situation?” he asked, joining the nurse, who
stood over a man caked in blood, soot, and all manner of filth.
“They just brought him in. They found him buried in the
rubble. He suffered a severe blow to the head. It crushed the
back of his skull. There was a great deal of blood loss. His
breathing is shallow, and his pulse very weak.” She met Micah’s
gaze. “He’s not responding to any stimulus.”
Micah pried open one eyelid and then the other. The pupils
were fixed and dilated. He took a pencil from his pocket and
pressed it against the base of the man’s index fingernail. There
was no movement, no attempt to fight against his action. Micah
did a few additional tests, looking for any kind of response
whatsoever, but there was none.
“We can’t help him. Have him moved to the waiting room.”
The waiting room signaled the hopelessness of the man’s
condition. It wasn’t a place where patients waited to be seen—it
was where they waited to die. In the hours just after the earth-
quake, Micah had seen men and women lined up side by side
with nothing more than the floor beneath them—all in various
stages of dying. At least now they had the ability to give the
poor soul a blanket to lie on.
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He shook his head and gazed out across the large factory
floor. Every inch of space was being utilized in some capacity,
but it was such an inadequate arrangement.
“You look barely able to stand, Fisher,” a gruff voice said
behind him.
Micah turned to find one of the older surgeons. He had
been called out of retirement to help treat the vast number of
wounded.
“Better just prop me up against a wall and bring the patients
to me, then,” Micah replied with a grin. He rubbed his face,
frowning at the thick growth of stubble. He’d given up the idea
of growing a beard when his mother asked if it was possible for
him to be clean-shaven for Easter. Had that only been a week
ago last Sunday?
“Son, you’ll do no one any good if you can’t think clearly.
I’m ordering you out of here. Don’t make me get someone to
remove you. Go home, or go wherever you can, so long as it’s
away from here. Take a hot bath and sleep for as long as you
need and come back rested. After that, you can work another
week without decent rest or meals.”
Micah nodded. He knew the older man was right, but he
hated to walk away from such urgent need. “It’s just so hard
to leave.”
The gruff old surgeon touched Micah’s shoulder. “Son, I
know exactly how you feel, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned,
it’s that rest and proper nourishment are vital to clear think-
ing. Many of these souls are going to die, which is despairing,
but you’d feel a great degree worse if you were the cause of it.
Now go.”
“I will. I need to let my folks know I’m alive, anyway.” Micah
suppressed a yawn. “I’ll be back here or elsewhere as soon as
I have some sleep.”
Walking from the factory, Micah felt his legs grow heavier
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head as his father reached out to steady him. “I’m all right. I
just need to rest a bit.”
Without a word, his father took him in hand as he had often
done when Micah was a small boy. His father handed Micah’s
medical bag to his mother, then pulled him through the house
and past all the chaos. At the end of the hall, he opened the
door to Micah’s room and ushered him inside. Micah sank
onto the edge of his bed, and for a moment it escaped him as
to what he should do next.
His father helped him from his coat, then pushed Micah
back toward the pillow. “Lie down, son.”
Micah nodded, eased back onto the bed, and closed his eyes.
He could feel his father undoing the laces of his shoes and pull-
ing them from his feet, but after that, nothing.
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him. We might even be able to get back his family home. Mayor
Schmitz said he would check into it.”
Kenzie knew without being told what was coming next.
“With everything in order, we told the girls to set the wedding
date,” Caleb finished, putting his arm around Judith.
Camri leaned into Patrick’s hold. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It is.” Kenzie forced a smile. “It truly is. I’ll be glad to help
you with the plans.”
Camri gave Kenzie’s hand a squeeze. “And one day we’ll do
the same for you.”
Kenzie didn’t want to tell her friend that she didn’t believe
that day would ever come. Instead she gave a little nod. Before
Camri could say anything else and cause more unintended pain,
Kenzie spoke up. “I posted the notes about Cousin George and
Dr. Fisher.”
“What’s that?” Caleb asked.
Camri nodded and let go of Kenzie’s hand. “We heard
about the board being put up at the relief camp so people
could post notes about their missing loved ones. We thought
we’d put up notices that we’re trying to find George Lake
and Micah.”
“That was a good idea, but I wish you hadn’t gone by your-
self,” Caleb said, fixing Kenzie with a stern look. “It’s not safe
out there.”
Kenzie knew the dangers well enough. “We felt we had to
do what we could. And now I’m back.” She shrugged. “And
no worse for the trip.”
“Well, next time you want to do something like that, let me
or Patrick know, and we’ll go with you or arrange for someone
else to do so.”
Kenzie nodded, knowing it was senseless to argue. To her
relief, a young soldier entered the warehouse.
“Who’s in charge here?” he called out.
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moved closer and bent until they were almost nose to nose. He
countered her commands with a few of his own. They were
a feisty couple, to be sure. Kenzie had never once argued like
that with Arthur. Of course, she fought like that with Micah
all the time. Micah Fisher was possibly the most obstinate man
she’d ever known.
How she longed to see him—just to know he was all right.
And then, as if he knew what she were thinking, Micah ap-
peared at the door of the warehouse. He was drenched from the
rain and filthy from what had no doubt been hours of tending
patients. His dark blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the room.
The look on his face was determined.
Kenzie’s gaze locked on him. She was unable to look away.
Her heart beat faster, and she dropped her brush. Caleb and
Camri spied Micah and rushed to his side. Judith gave a squeal
of delight and came from where she’d been helping make up
the cots. They all crowded around him, everyone talking at the
same time. Micah nodded and even commented, but still he
searched until his eyes met Kenzie’s. She watched as his stern
expression changed. The corners of his mouth lifted in that
smile he often got when dealing with her. Without warning,
he stepped past his friends and marched across the warehouse
like a man on a mission.
What was he doing? Kenzie thought about standing but wasn’t
sure her legs would support her. No matter how hard she tried,
she couldn’t look away. She watched Micah move toward her
and then felt her breath catch in her throat as he reached down
to take hold of her. He drew her to her feet without so much as
a word and then pulled her tightly to him. Kenzie could only
look up in wonder, which made it easy for Micah to complete his
next move. With one hand still holding her fast, he put his other
hand to the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was unlike anything Kenzie had ever experienced.
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