The Strange Case of Baby H (15 page)

“Oh, daughter,” Father murmured, reaching out to stroke Clara's cheek. “To think I sent you out into the hands of such brutal men.”

“But she escaped,” Edgar reminded everyone.

“She saved herself,” the policeman said. “
And
she saved the baby. It was the bravest rescue I have ever seen.”

Father beamed, but Mother's eyes glazed as she stared at her daughter. “My own baby,” she whispered. “You could so easily have been lost …”

Father reached out and gripped Mother's hand. “My dear.” His voice was firm, comforting. “Our Clara is safe.”

“But how could you risk it?” wept Mother, and Clara knew the question was as much for Father as it was for her. “After all we've already suffered?”

Clara reached for Mother's other hand, and the three of them sat there in the parlor, linked together for the first time since Gideon's death. “Baby Helen was nearly lost, too,” Clara said. “I couldn't let that happen, could I?”

“If Clara
hadn't
tried to save the baby,” added Father quietly, “she would have felt guilty for the rest of her life. And living each day wracked with the knowledge that you might have done something differently but didn't—” He hesitated, then raised his wife's hand to his lips and kissed it. “Believe me, that is no way to live. I am very proud of our daughter.”

“Oh, so am I,” whispered Mother. “So am I.”

As words of praise washed over her, Clara snuggled deeper into her blankets. She could not stop shivering—not from cold now, but from fatigue, and from the certainty that she would never feel safe again. The Borden brothers were out there somewhere in the world, and that knowledge was a stone in the pit of her belly.

They got away
, she thought desolately.
They'll kidnap somebody else sometime, in some other place
. Clara's belly clenched at the thought.

The policemen prepared to leave. “We still have work to do,” the deputy said, as if he had read Clara's mind.

During the week that followed, the sound of hammers rang out through Clara's neighborhood as people boarded up broken windows and mended collapsed fences. Families moved back indoors, though cooking still had to take place out in the yards or streets; until the gas mains were repaired, it would not be safe to light stoves. All over San Francisco, relief crews were working to clear the rubble of fallen buildings, erect shelters for the thousands still homeless, and bury the dead. From all over the world, help was coming by train and boat in the form of food, water, clothing, household goods, and medical supplies.

Two days after the fires were out, the Hansen family left for Oakland, taking the Grissingers along with them. Mrs. Hansen's brother had sent word that he would house them all until their own homes were rebuilt. The Wheeler sisters found to their delight that their home had not burned to the ground after all, though looters had made off with a good deal of the contents. Miss Chandler announced she would be leaving San Francisco for good, taking her piano-teaching talent north to Seattle. “People aren't going to be thinking about paying for extras like piano lessons around San Francisco anytime soon,” she told Mother and Father. “Everything is changed now.”

Everything felt changed to Clara, too, but for different reasons. At night she lay awake, hearing in every creak of the house a footstep, seeing in every shadow a revolver—aimed at her. When she did sleep, she dreamed of hiding from Sid and Herman Borden.

A happier change was in the air for Peggy DuBois and Hiram Stokes, who now, on the fifth afternoon since Clara's daring rescue, announced they planned to marry. They would like Clara to be their bridesmaid! They hoped to remain at the boardinghouse, however, until they could find a home of their own.

Clara smiled with pleasure and told them she would love to be a bridesmaid. Mr. Midgard and Mr. Granger made jokes about how roomy the boardinghouse would be with only the two of them left as lodgers.

“And me,” Edgar piped up softly. “Don't forget me.”

“Of course no one is forgetting you,” Mother said.

“How could we forget the boy who has built us a real oven?” And then Mother decided that she would bake a special cake in the brick oven Edgar had constructed just that morning in the backyard. They would celebrate Clara's safe return and the end of the fires, and also, now, the betrothal. After so many days of gloom and fear, Clara found the cheerful bustle in the house a pleasant change.

She mixed a batter of flour, sugar, the last of the tinned milk, and eggs from the neighbors' chickens. A knock at the front door sent her hurrying down the hallway. There on the step stood Emmeline. The two girls threw their arms around each other. “Come in!” cried Clara. “Oh, Emmy, I'm so glad to see you!”

“Such a lot has happened since we last saw each other,” said Emmeline. Her family, she explained, had been visiting Emmeline's grandmother in Oakland when the quake hit—and of course they stayed on until word came that the fires were out in San Francisco. “We didn't know what we'd find when we came back,” Emmeline told Clara. “We are so fortunate that we still have our house—and everything's still in it. But our school is gone—did you hear? And the cinedrome, too. But you—Clara, what is this I've been hearing about a kidnapping? All the neighborhood is talking! You must tell me everything.”

“I will,” Clara promised. “Stay for dinner, why don't you. It won't be fancy, but Mother has made plenty of fritters and barley soup, and we're even trying our hand at a cake in our new brick oven.” She led her friend into the kitchen and introduced her to Edgar and the lodgers.

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 up 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.”