NOTE: Where you see "...." inserted within a sentence or between sentences, the author has removed certain words from the excerpt that might give away key parts of the story.
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While the positive changes inside the Madison house had been welcomed, they were short-lived. Soon after the baptism, Jonathon once again began to distance himself from his family and his new child, for reasons neither Amelia nor Mimi could explain. They both presented a strong front, however, and did their best to move through their responsibilities without appearing too concerned.
By lunchtime on Wednesday, April 18, 1906, they had returned from their morning walk in Washington Park across the street…
… “Let’s invite Louise and the baby over for lunch next week,” Amelia suggested, locking the carriage brake before leaving it on the front porch. “We’ve been visiting with her for weeks now in the park, and I think she would be a great friend for you.”
“That’s a wonderful idea! And who knows? Cinnamon and Angela might turn out to be friends too.”
They had no idea.
Around half past three that same afternoon, the front chime rang. Drake had gone home for the day, and everyone else was sleeping, so Irene peered through the sidelight. She was surprised to see Bradley Price standing on the front porch, and she opened the door without hesitation.
“Hello, Irene. Please forgive me for calling unannounced, but we’ve had news over the wireless and I need to speak with Mrs. McClinty—Amelia, that is.”
He looked terribly grim, and even in the crisp afternoon air, beads of perspiration were popping out across his forehead and above his upper lip.
“Both the misses are resting, sir, while the baby sleeps. I’m sorry you’ve come all this way. You’re welcome to wait, or perhaps there’s a message you’d like to leave for them.”
“How much longer before they awaken?”
“I’m not certain. That’s generally up to the baby.”
“Yes, of course. I think I’ll wait, then.”
“Please make yourself comfortable in the parlor. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“There’s also some brandy on the server.”
“Frankly, that does sound like a better option.”
“Help yourself, then. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything else.”
After pouring a large shot into one of the snifters on the tray, he took a deep sip, letting the spirit bite, then burn, then warm and calm him. He’d been studying the array of family mementos on the fireplace mantle for only a few minutes when he heard Mimi’s voice in the hallway.
“Irene, was that someone ringing our bell?”
“Yes, ma'am. It was Mr. Price from the newspaper. He’s waiting for you in the parlor.”
A moment later she appeared in the doorway, her sable hair free from its customary bun and spilling over her shoulders. A pink, floor-length house gown with long sleeves and a high collar covered her body, and a white crocheted shawl was demurely wrapped around her back and arms. Instead of shoes, she appeared to be wearing beige woolen stockings, which stretched upward to some unknown point beneath the gown. On her cheeks was the natural blush of having just awakened, and in her arms, wrapped in a yellow knitted blanket, was her new baby.
God help me get quickly beyond the delivery of this news, he thought, and then out the door.
“Mr. Price, how good to see you. Have we forgotten an appointment?”
Clearly she was not expecting company, but she graciously welcomed him, hoping he would overlook her dreadful appearance.
“No, I’m afraid I’ve come on my own without notice. Please forgive the intrusion, but telegraphs have been arriving since late morning with news that I thought you should know. Miss Amelia, in particular, should be informed.”
“She’s still sleeping, but if you’d like to tell me, I’ll see that she receives the message right away.”
He sat down on the sofa, placed his brandy on the table in front of him and dropped his head into his hands.
“I’m sorry. I’m really not sure what to do, or what to say. Maybe I should not have come.”
Recognizing his distress and suddenly feeling alarmed, she excused herself for a minute.
“I’ll be right back. Irene can watch Cinnamon while we talk.”
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“What’s wrong, Mr. Price?” she asked upon her return, facing him as she sat in Amelia’s favorite chair.
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he produced a folded sheet of paper and handed it to her.
“This came by telegraph earlier today,” he said. “It’s probably the best way to begin.”
From the Publisher of The Daily News
San Francisco, Wednesday, April 18, 1906
KILLER EARTHQUAKE STRUCK CITY AT 5:13 A.M.
City left in ruins. Loss of life enormous. Exact numbers of dead and injured unknown. Hundreds already at Mechanics’ Pavilion which is being used as a morgue and hospital.
Fires rage through downtown and neighborhoods causing further destruction and impairing rescue. More temblors continue to strike.
Newspaper offices demolished. Relocating operations to Oakland for issues beginning tomorrow. Updates will follow whenever possible.
Mimi laid the paper in her lap, her face now void of color, her eyes clouded.
“My brother-in-law,” she whispered, “his wife, their young son—they all live there.”
“I know. That’s why I came. I wanted to tell you before we print the news. Our front page will be covered with the story this evening.”
“Amelia will be frantic. How can we find out if Peter and his family are all right?”
“From what I’ve been able to learn, we may have to wait several days. Apparently, the city is in complete chaos, and until the fires are controlled, there won’t be any way of getting reliable information.”
“Dear God! This is unimaginable!”
“Well, good afternoon, Mr. Price.” Amelia’s cheerful voice was entering the room far too soon. “To what might we owe the pleasure of your visit?” she continued, expecting that a baby gift was in the offing. When no one replied, she sat down on the sofa. “For heaven’s sake! Why do you both look so ghastly?”
“I’m afraid,” Mimi began, coughing lightly to buy herself a few extra seconds, “that something horrible has happened.”
After studying their faces for a moment, Amelia repositioned herself against the sofa cushion and gripped her hands tightly together.
“It’s Jonathon, isn’t it? There’s been an accident at the mill.”
“No. Jonathon’s quite fine, I think. Here,” she said, handing the teletype across the coffee table. “Mr. Price brought this to help us understand.”
Just at that moment, Jonathon burst through the front door. Seeing the trio in the parlor, he seemed unconcerned about the presence of Mr. Price and focused his attention instead on his mother.
“Have you heard the news?”
“Not yet,” Amelia answered. “But that’s obviously the direction you’re all heading. Please, Jonathon, come in here and join us.” …
