FIRE AND FOG (31 page)

"Have you ever thought of nursing? There's ways to earn a little
salary and get your training at the same time, and right now we
need more nurses. I could help get you started."

I smiled wanly. "I do not think I would make a very good nurse,
but thanks all the same."

Again a silence fell. I stopped in the midst of my
bandage-rolling, thinking of Michael. Wondering if I were soon to
make the greatest mistake of my life-and God knew, I had made some
big ones already.

"Mrs. Bartlett, have you ever heard of Carmel-by-the-Sea?"

"Carmel-by-the-Sea . . . sounds familiar. I know: that
photographer, that Mr. Genthe who was taking all the pictures after
the quake, that's where he went. I read it in the newspaper.
Carmel's down south of here, I think. Why do you ask?"

"Because Michael wanted me to go there with him."

"Hmmm." She peered at me, eyes twinkling among their many folds.
"So that's how it is. No wonder things didn't work out between you
and young Dr. Tyler."

"Hah!" I tried to laugh but it fell flat. "I was very angry with
both of them for a while, but now I have no feelings of any kind at
all, for anyone. Too much has happened. I have neither the energy
nor the will to start over; I am quite hopeless. Carmel does sound
interesting, but I cannot go anywhere except back to Boston. I'll
tell Michael so the next time I see him. Whenever that may be-he
seems to have given up on me, and I can't say I blame him. I
haven't seen Michael in at least a week."

"Hmmm," said Bartlett.

I returned to my folding, muttering, "I must write to
Father."

Two days later I heard a voice calling from outside my tent:
"Fremont? May I come in?"

Though it was midday, I was lying on my cot with an arm flung
across my eyes. The book I could not concentrate enough to read
slid off my stomach as I sat up. The voice sounded like Michael's.
"Come in," I said.

Michael ducked through the tent flap, smiling broadly. "I have a
surprise for you."

He stepped aside, and the most extraordinary hat appeared in the
tent flap, a large-brimmed creation all covered in blue flowers and
green feathers and swathed in bluish-green veiling. The owner of
the hat emerged, raised her face, and my spirits lifted for the
first time in many, many days.

"Oh, Meiling," I said, hastening to embrace her, "I am so very
glad to see you!"

"And I you, Fremont," she said.

"You are quite the elegant lady," said I, stepping back to
survey her dress, which matched the veiling on the hat. The
ensemble was not one we had bought on our shopping trip; it looked
far more expensive.

Michael cleared his throat. "Um, I will leave you two to visit
while I go out and scare up some refreshment for us."

"As long as you do not scare it too badly," I said.

He winked at me, grinning. "I see you have rediscovered your
sense of humor at last," he quipped, departing.

Meiling and I sat next to each other on the cot while she told
me her news. She had received her acceptance from Stanford. The
university was still closed for earthquake repairs but would reopen
in September, at which time she would matriculate.

"My other good news is that my intermediary has sold the pearls,
and they brought an even better price than I had hoped."

"That accounts for the excellence of your outfit. It is new, I
presume."

"Yes. I adore Western clothing, and I think it looks quite well
on me, don't you?"

I laughed. She even sounded different, and while I somewhat
missed the old Meiling, she was so obviously happy that I could not
much lament the change. "Yes, you look wonderful."

"Fremont, I hope you do not mind. I asked Mr. Archer to meet the
train and bring me here to see you. I feel safe traveling through
the city in his company."

"That, I completely understand. How could you think I would
mind? I am delighted to see you."

"He told me something of what happened. Real Ninjas! You are a
heroine, Fremont."

I shook my head. "I do not feel much like a heroine, but thank
you for saying so."

Meiling opened her very fashionable reticule. "I have brought
you something. It is a cheque from the bank for your share of the
pearls."

I started to shake my head again, but stopped mid-shake as a
stern expression came into Meiling's eyes.

"You will please not argue. You will dishonor me, Fremont Jones,
if you do not accept this small offering of gratitude. I have a new
life now, which would not have been possible without your help, and
so I have a debt to you that I am in honor bound to discharge.
Truly, my soul cannot rest until you take it."

"If you put it that way . . ."I said slowly, taking the cheque.
I unfolded it and saw the amount. My eyes grew wide. "Meiling,
surely this is too much!"

"It is merely what I received for the pearls I offered but you
would not take at the time. I always planned to give you the money,
when I had it, instead. You accept it, yes?"

"Yes," I nodded, somewhat stunned. I put my arm around my friend
and my head on her shoulder, saying again, "Yes.
Thank
you!"

Michael returned at that moment, carrying a tray with a pitcher
of iced tea and three glasses. Space being somewhat cramped, he set
it on the dirt floor and took the chair. His eyes twinkled. "A
reunion of good friends is cause for celebration. Tea, Fremont?
Meiling?"

We had a joyous celebration indeed. I suggested that we continue
with an early supper at a restaurant, but Meiling declined. "I am
uncomfortable in San Francisco, and anyway, it is nearly time for
my train back to Palo Alto."

We said our farewells, and I promised to visit her soon. My
heart was singing: I would not have to return to Boston after all!
Meiling's generosity had made all the difference.

Meiling preceded Michael from the tent. As he ducked, I plucked
at his sleeve. "Michael, would you come back here after taking
Meiling to the train? I should like you to tell me more about
Carmel-by-the-Sea."

He arched his black eyebrows, smiled, and said, "That would give
me the greatest pleasure."

I stood outside my tent, waving Michael and Meiling out of
sight. After many bleak days and nights I could feel again, and
what I felt was love.