MONDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 9, 1871
- At Lincoln Park -
It seemed to Justin that the whole world was burning. Now they were on the north side of the city, and still the whirlwinds shot the flames up to the sky, twisting and boiling.
“We should have gone to the lakeshore,” Mother complained. “We’d be safe at the waterside.”
“No, ma’am.” A gentleman who was trudging along nearby spoke up. “Some of the city folks crossed over the river and went down to Michigan Avenue and the lakeshore. They’re all trapped down there.”
“Then we should have gone to the prairie—to Grandpa’s,” Justin said.
“Most everyone from the north side is already up there. But anyone on this side of the city can only cross the river at the Twelfth Street Bridge now. There’s no other way.”
“So we’d be heading back into the fire if we headed for the prairie,” Father said.
They entered the park from the south entrance. “There must be thousands of people here,” Justin said in awe. “Where should we go?”
“There’s a line,” Father said, pointing. “Perhaps there’s water over there.”
They reached a fountain where water was still running. Several policemen guarded it and provided tin pails for those who had no way to collect the precious resource.
Ticktock cried when she saw the running water. “You can’t water animals from this fountain,” the police officer told him. Justin filled a pail, drank from it eagerly, and then filled it to the brim again before leaving the line.
Justin and his family moved away, each carrying a pail of water. “Over here,” Father suggested, finding an empty spot on the grass. Once there, Claire opened up her pillowcase and pulled out a folded sheet that had been hand-embroidered with blue forget-me-nots and daisies. “This is a gift from Randy’s mother,” she said. “She worked on it all summer.” Claire unfolded the sheet and spread it on the dry grass. “It’ll be put to good use right now. We’ll claim our spot with it—and we’ll all sit down and rest at last.”
“First I’m going to give Ticktock a drink.” Justin set the pail in front of his goat and watched as she lapped up the water eagerly. “You’ve been such a good little kid,” Justin said. “You haven’t complained, and you’ve kept up with me all the way.”
“She is a sweet thing,” Mother agreed as she sat wearily on a corner of the sheet. “And you’ve taken good care of her, Justin.”
Claire spoke up. “I only wish I could have saved Mew. I can’t bear to think of her in that fire. She was just a baby—too small to fend for herself.” Her eyes filled up and she turned away.
“Some things had to be sacrificed,” Father said, heaving a sigh. “I have to admit I was foolish to even consider going back to the shop. Our lives are worth more than all the jewels in the world.” He sat close to Mother and put his arm around her. “This is the most difficult time we’ve been through as a family. We may have to start all over, but …”
Mother put her head on Father’s shoulder. “At least we’re still alive and together.”
“And if we could withstand this fire, we can withstand anything!” Charlie said.
“How are your hands now, son?” Father asked Charlie.
“I washed them. Wish we had something to put on the sores.”
“Once the blisters break, they can become infected,” Mother said. “If that driver would only bring our belongings! I have clean clothing in there that we could use for your hands.”
“From what I’ve been hearing, I doubt if we’ll ever see our things again,” Father said. “Men with wagons are charging to cart things for a price—and then they go around the corner and dump them. Then they start over with another poor sucker.”
“I have clean cloth for Charlie’s hands,” Claire offered. She opened her bundle of wedding linens and handed her mother a pillowcase. “Tear it up and use it for bandages.”
“Oh, no, Claire,” Charlie objected. “It’s for your trousseau.”
Claire hugged her brother. “Haven’t we learned that things don’t matter?”
Father stood up and glanced at the line for water. “The police are sending people away. I wonder why?” The family watched as Father went to the fountain and talked with the officers there. He came back, shaking his head. “The water works burned down and the water can’t be pumped. I don’t know how much worse it can get.”
“It’s almost dawn. And the fire’s still roaring over there.” Mother nodded toward the west. “If only the wind would stop.”
“If only it would rain,” Charlie said.
Mother sighed and ripped the pretty pillowcase into strips. “Come on, son, let’s protect your wounds.”
When they were finished, Charlie laughed and held up both hands, which were fringed with embroidery. “I’m sure I have the prettiest bandages around.”
Now that dawn was breaking, they looked around for familiar faces.
“Look who’s coming this way!” Father exclaimed. “It’s Dr. Anderson!”
The doctor waved hello as he approached the family. “So glad to see you made it!”
He glanced at Charlie’s hands. “I do have my medical bag here if you need anything.”
“Broken blisters—I’ll be all right,” Charlie said. “I’m sure there are other folks who need your help more than I do.”
“This fire is a tragedy beyond belief. There are wounded folks out there not far from this park.” Dr. Anderson gestured to the flames that were shooting up into the sky. “It’s raging beyond control, and it’s next to impossible to get in there to save anyone.”
“I hear the cemetery is full. And they’re still pouring into this place.” Father looked toward the south entrance. “Why, that little girl … she looks familiar.”
Justin followed his father’s gaze. A child in tattered clothing staggered into the park. Her face was stained with soot, and her eyes stared ahead as if she was in a daze. She struggled with what seemed to be a heavy bag and she kept the other hand in a front pocket.
“Is that … Poppy?” Justin asked.
Claire jumped up. “Yes! Yes! That’s my apron she’s wearing! Of course it’s Poppy!”
“Poppy! Poppy!” Justin called. “It is you!”
Poppy looked around aimlessly.
“Oh, Poppy, darling,” Claire called as she and her brother raced toward her. “Oh, thank you, God. Thank you!”
“Poppy, Poppy,” Justin sobbed and tears dripped down his face.
Poppy’s legs buckled under her, but not before Claire caught her in her arms.
Claire held her close and covered Poppy’s sooty face with kisses. “Our little Poppy,” she whispered.