Eastland Page 6

  The murmur of those French prayers was like hearing a favorite childhood song again. Memories flooded my mind of happier times. Sitting on Papa’s lap during Mass. Mama at the range stirring soup, a ladle in one hand, a strand of Rosary beads in the other. My fifth birthday and my first Rosary, a gift from Papa.

  As I approached, Mama stood. “Ma petite!” She threw open her arms.

  I dropped my umbrella and wrapped myself around her. I let my head rest upon her bosom, something I hadn’t done since Papa’s funeral. We held that embrace for only a few precious moments, but it was enough to give me strength. I gave her one last squeeze and managed somehow to let go.

  Mama took my hand in hers, the Rosary beads pressing into my knuckles.

  “This will be very hard. You must go, chérie?”

  “I have to find Mae. But Mama, I never explained what happened this morning. Why I left without telling you.”

  “First, our friends.” She glanced at the VandeKipps’ empty home. “You and I will talk later.”

  From down the street, a horse neighed as a hackney cab pulled up to the curb. The chestnut horse stopped and whinnied again, bobbing its reddish-brown head as if to say hello. The driver, Salvatore, the Kozneckis’ favorite, hopped down from his high perch in the front of his cab.

  “Easy now, Lucille.” He rubbed the mare’s nose. Lucille nuzzled his hand. Salvatore patted her back and opened the carriage door.

  Karel stepped out. “Thank you, Sal.”

  Karel had changed out of his torn and river-stained clothes into a tan sack coat with a chocolate-brown waistcoat vest. His freshly washed hair was not hidden under a boater, but draped about his face like a frame. He looked like a masterpiece. I found myself gasping at the very sight of him.

  “Dee! I never got a chance to speak with you. There were so many people at my house.” He flung out his arms as though he wanted to hug me but then saw Mama and dropped his hands. “Mrs. Pageau.” He tipped his head to her. “It’s good—”

  She seized him by the shoulder. “How can I sank you for saving my Delia?” She rose up on her toes, and then in a quite uncharacteristic gesture for my shy mother, she kissed his forehead. “Your sister …” Mama’s voice cracked. “My sympathies. For Mama and Papa too.”

  “No need for sympathies,” I said. “Mae is fine.”

  Salvatore cleared his throat. Mama and Karel both stared at me.

  “She is! And we’ll find her!”

  “I pray you’re right, Dee.” Karel turned to look at Mama but reached back with his hand and gave my fingers a secret squeeze. “Good evening, Madame.”

  “Take care.” Mama cried openly now. “Godspeed.” She kissed both my cheeks, her hot tears singeing my skin. I gave her one last hug before leaving her to continue her prayer vigil.

  I scrutinized Karel. “Are you up to this after all you’ve been through today?”

  “I should be asking you that question.” He touched my arm. “I want you to come with me, but I’m worried for you. I don’t know what we’ll find. This may be too much.”

  “With you by my side, I know I’ll be fine.”

  Karel put his arms out again. I slipped into them. The fit was perfection.

  “Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Salvatore tipped his top hat to me and opened the carriage door. All too soon, Karel released me. I sighed as I scooped up my umbrella and climbed inside. Karel settled himself beside me.

  “We’re not taking the streetcars?” As soon as my words hit the air, I winced. I sounded like such a peasant, but I’d never ridden in a hackney cab before.

  “No more streetcars. Father said we’d been through enough hell for one day.”

  I said a silent “bless you” to Mr. Koznecki for his generosity as Lucille nickered and trotted away.

  This horse and buggy ride wasn’t as smooth as the trip I’d taken in that stylish black coupe. With each bump and bounce of the carriage on the muddy streets, I felt the prick of coiled springs through the worn, red leather seat. The interior was every bit as muggy as the motorcar’s had been. But our carriage had one important difference—the dank stink of wet horse.

  Karel snuggled closer, and I caught the scent of his ginger aftershave. Not Brach’s chocolate, but still, dangerously delicious. I inhaled deeply, purging my senses of the horsey smell.

  “Where to first, Mr. Karel?” Salvatore asked over his shoulder.

  “Iroquois Memorial Hospital on Market Street.” Karel heaved a sigh. “Wish we were going somewhere else. Anywhere but there.”

  Me too. Anywhere with Karel would be divine, but I had to check myself. This wasn’t a date. This was a mission. There would be time for fanciful thoughts later when Mae was home.

  “Karel.” I put my hand on top of his. “I never got the chance to thank you.”

  I never had the opportunity to thank anyone properly. The nurse, the unnamed family who had driven me home, Lars Nielsen and his turquoise eyes. They’d all been strangers who had gone out of their way to assist me. I would never see any of them again.

  What was my problem? Why the self-pity when Karel was here with me now? Time to set things right between us.

  “You were there for me today. Without you, I would have drowned.”

  A vision of the redhead in the lacy, yellow frock plummeting to her death flashed before me. I winced.

  “I couldn’t let you die.” He clasped my fingers in his warm hand. I felt safer than I had all day. “There wasn’t any question. You were coming over that railing with me.”

  “I hope you know I’d do the same for you.”

  He smiled. “Of course, I know.”

  “Good.” I hesitated, not wanting to ruin this moment, but something, someone, was along on this ride with us. “If only we’d had the time to get to her.” A sob pressed against my chest. I started to cry. Karel pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to me.

  “What could we have done differently, Dee? It all happened so fast. You know that. There wasn’t time to get downstairs.” He shook his head as though he was trying to convince himself as well as me. “And what if we had made it to the salon? Could we have even reached her in time? You saw all those people.”

  I thought about the dance floor overflowing with passengers. Mae and Johnny pressed into a corner.

  “And what if we had all been together in the salon? We probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. We’d all be dead.”

  “Maybe there was nothing else we could have done.” Except maybe to have died with her, so she wouldn’t have been alone and terrified. “It’s only that you and I, well, we had each other.”

  “Mae had Johnny. And I’m glad. It brings me comfort to know she didn’t face that horror on her own.” Karel took my other hand and pressed them both together in his. “We can only hope Mae never knew what hit her.”

  “You’re talking like she’s already dead!”

  “Dee, be reasonable.”

  I slid my hands out from under his. “I won’t believe that. Not without proof. ’Til then, we have to have hope.”

  Karel sank back against the seat, looking deflated. “All I know is that we survived. We’re here, and we have a chance for a life.” He let out an anguished sigh. “I never appreciated all that I had. The advantages, the money, a younger sister.” His striking face twisted with regret.

  I ached to make him feel better. But how? What could ease the agony of this night?

  “I was supposed to be watching her today. But she wanted to dance. I didn’t, so I left her below deck.”

  “I abandoned her, too.” To find you. What kind of friend did something like that?

  “You weren’t responsible for her. I was.”

  “You thought you left her safe and sound in the salon. How could you have known what might happen?”

  His eyes widened. “Your mother’s premonition! I should have listened to her. Stayed home with Mae.”

  “Mae would never have agreed to
that. She had a mind of her own. We both know that.”

  He stared out the cab, nodding. “Mae used to tease me about being selfish. Who’s going to keep me in line now?”

  “Mae will still be around to do the job. You’ll see. We’ll find her. But it sounds to me like you might be learning how to keep yourself in check.”

  “We’re getting close,” Salvatore announced. I glanced outside.

  The darkening Chicago streets were jammed with traffic,much as they had been this morning along the dock. Men bicycled in and around cars. Horse carts loaded with people clomped alongside other hackney cabs for hire. Women and children navigated the busy sidewalks. Streetcars bulged with passengers, many of whom packed the steps, both front and back.

  “Where’s everyone going?” But in truth, I already knew the answer. The traffic went only one direction.

  Downtown.

  “To the riverfront,” said Salvatore, confirming my suspicions. “To see the Eastland.”

  “What? Why would any sane person want to see that?”

  “The public craves disaster. Don’t understand it myself, but the more tragic, the more intriguing. And this catastrophe has it all. Death, destruction, melodrama. What more could people want?”

  I couldn’t imagine. For me, the Eastland held no fascination beyond that of finding Mae. I never wanted to set foot on a boat again.

  “I heard from another cabbie there might be as many as half a million spectators. Coppers sure will have their hands full this weekend.” Salvatore pulled back on the reins. Lucille slowed. “We’re about two blocks from Iroquois Memorial. With all this traffic, it’ll be rough going.”

  “Then let us out here, Sal. We’ll walk the rest of the way.” Karel paused and looked at me. “That is, if Dee doesn’t mind a little rain. Sidewalks are too crowded to open an umbrella. If only you still had your hat.”

  My beige hat, the one that had complemented my cocoa eyes. That was what Mae had said only this morning. Now the hat was in the Chicago River along with …

  “I don’t care about the weather! Let’s go find Mae.”

  “You heard the lady, Sal. Why don’t you meet us at the rear entrance of the hospital? We’ll check for my sister and then come look for you. If she’s there, I’ll send you home. If she’s not there, it’s on to the next hospital.”

  It took a full five minutes for our cab to reach the curb.

  “Good luck, miss.” Salvatore took my hand and helped me down. “Hope you find Miss Koznecki. Alive.”

  He’d said that last word under his breath, but I’d heard. Our driver had lost faith. But I still clung to my tiny remnant of hope. I also hung tightly onto Karel’s arm as a couple brushed rudely past us.

  “Heard the majority of bodies were found rushing the grand staircase,” said the woman, her voice breathy with excitement. “They’re still bringing ’em up. Maybe some dead will still be on the dock.”

  “Rumor has it that the tugboat pulled the Eastland over,” said the man. “But I also heard that a rush of passengers toward the riverside railings tipped the ship.”

  Three teenage boys nearly bowled us over. “Some of the women lost their dresses in all the struggling,” one of them sniggered.

  “Naked women?”

  “Let’s get a move on!” The three sped off.

  “Sorry you had to hear that, Dee.” Karel walked faster, pulling me along beside him until two elderly gentlemen got in our way.

  “According to reports in the evening edition,” one said, holding up his Chicago Daily Tribune, “bell divers found all manner of carnage in the hull. Bodies mutilated beyond recognition by falling debris.”

  “They’re saying that two women were crushed to death,” the other added, “when the bar’s refrigerator broke loose.”

  I could almost hear that first explosive crash. The sound of glass shattering.

  I tugged at Karel’s arm, rushing him along even faster until we’d finally made it through the hospital doors and into the lobby. I leaned on the wall to catch my breath.

  Iroquois Memorial was in chaos. Stretchers with wounded victims were scattered about the main entrance and lined up in the corridors. Doctors barked orders. Nurses hustled to comply. Red Cross volunteers in red sashes darted about trying to calm hysterical families.

  “I heard they took my son here,” one man bellowed. “Take me to him! Please!”

  “Wait your turn!” barked another man. “I’ve been here an hour.”

  “Gentlemen, please.” The Red Cross worker looked flustered and exhausted. “Everyone will be helped. You must be patient and stay in line.”

  I hurried to get behind the man with the missing son. If his boy really had been brought here, then maybe Mae was here too.

  Karel got in line beside me. “Could be a very long night.”

  No problem. Mae was worth the wait.

  11

  Around eight-thirty Saturday night, we reached third from the front of a very loosely formed line. A table had been set up in the lobby of Iroquois Memorial Hospital with a banner that read Red Cross Aid Station. A middle-aged woman, her strawberryblonde hair beginning to show signs of gray, stepped up to the table.

  “We’re looking for our daughter,” the woman said to the volunteer. “Kathleen O’Hara.”

  “Is she here?” An elderly man hobbled up to the table. “Is our Katy here?” The man looked old enough to be the middle-aged woman’s father, but clearly he was her husband.

  The Red Cross worker ran her eyes down the roster and then flipped the page. “No O’Hara.” She looked up. “I’m sorry.”

  “Check again! Please!” The elderly man tapped the list in the volunteer’s hand. “Katy O’Hara. Twenty years old. Red hair. Wearing …” He looked to his wife.

  “A yellow dress trimmed in lace ruffles. Katy bought it at the Boston Store special for the picnic.”

  A shriek escaped my lips.

  “What’s the matter, Dee?”

  “I know what happened to their daughter. You know too. Remember the redhead in that lacy, yellow dress?”

  Karel’s eyes grew wide. “You mean the one …?”

  I nodded.

  “Excuse me,” the volunteer called to us. “Do you two know something about Kathleen O’Hara?”

  “I’m not sure.” I crept around the man in front of me. “Their daughter might have been on the Eastland with us.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord!” Mrs. O’Hara cried. “Then she’s safe! Our Katy’s safe!”

  “My friend.” I nodded toward Karel. “Tried to save her. But she slipped from his grasp and plunged—”

  “No!” Mrs. O’Hara crumpled against the table. The volunteer leapt up and placed her arms around the distressed woman.

  “We’ll find someone who can accompany you and your husband to the morgue. Come with me now. I’ll get you some water.” The volunteer led Mrs. O’Hara down the hall. Another Red Cross worker rushed forward to help poor Mr. O’Hara.

  I trudged back into line. After the man in front of us was taken to his son’s room, we got our turn.

  “I’m looking for my sister,” Karel said to the replacement volunteer. “Mae Koznecki. Blonde hair. Seventeen years old.”

  I held my breath as the volunteer ran her finger down the pages of her roster.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t see her name on our patient list.” She gave Karel a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps she’s at Franklin Emergency. If she’s not there …” The volunteer hesitated a moment. “A central morgue has been set up at the Second Regiment Armory. Curtis Street and Washington Boulevard.”

  “How about any unidentified females?” Karel implored. “Any without names on that list?”

  “What was your sister wearing?”

  “A lilac-colored linen suit,” I answered for him.

  “Rules out one woman. She was all in white. That leaves two young women not yet identified.”

  Karel nearly lunged across the table. “Let me see them! Please, ma
’am. Please.”

  The Red Cross worker stood. “Then follow me.” She marched down the corridor.

  I started after her. Karel grabbed my arm.

  “I should go alone, Dee.”

  I’d opened my mouth to protest, when I remembered the reports of those bell divers.

  Bodies mutilated beyond recognition.

  “I’ll wait here.”

  But I couldn’t sit. So I paced the lobby for what felt like forever until at last, Karel returned.

  I flew at him. “Well? What did you find?”

  He just shook his head.

  “Maybe Mae made it home.” I was groping for even a scrap of hope. “Why don’t you call your father?” Mae might even answer. Tease us for being so worried. “Please, Karel, call your father.”

  I half-dragged, half-pushed him toward the candlestick phone at the end of the table. I seized the receiver. “May we?” I asked the newest volunteer. She nodded. “What’s the number, Karel?” I had to ask, since I’d never made a call to Mae before.

  “Cicero 3152.”

  I repeated the number to the operator. When the telephone rang, I thrust the receiver at Karel.

  “Hello!” Mr. Koznecki shouted from the other end. “That you, Mae?”

  Karel put the receiver to his ear. “No, Father. It’s me.”

  Karel listened for a moment and then asked, “So, she’s not there?” Another hesitation and then, “No, not at Iroquois. We’re on our way to Franklin Emergency. We’ll check in later.”

  A sob came through the receiver as Karel hung up.

  As prearranged, Salvatore and Lucille met us at the rear entrance of the hospital. Our driver took one look at Karel’s fallen face and removed his top hat.

  “We may yet find her, Mr. Karel.” But Salvatore’s tone revealed his true feelings.