Redeemed From the Ashes—Chapter 5—Still Hurting Souls

The beginning of this story starts here: https://steemit.com/book/@leahlindeman/redeemed-from-the-ashes-chapter-1 

The previous chapter can be found here: https://steemit.com/book/@leahlindeman/redeemed-from-the-ashes-chapter-4-the-death-of-yesterday

The rich man in his castle,

The poor man at his gate.

God made them, high or lowly,

And order’d their estate.

Mrs. Alexander

Chapter 5

    “I shall miss you, Evelyn. What will I do without you? You always fetch those darn clean bandages for me.” Betsie tried to compose herself in public view by sniffling away the rebellious tears continuing to threaten to spill over her weak lids. She bit her lip hard and laid her right palm over her heart.     

    “And I you.”     

    “Where will you go? Are you going to see family?”     

    “Yes, I’ll first try to find my mother in Dartmouth to see if she is well. I’ve heard some of Dartmouth suffered from the blast. Which parts, I don’t know. Then after I find my mother I shall look for my husband, even though…he may be dead.”     

    “I hope he isn’t.”    

     “Thank you. I hold to the same hope.” Evelyn gave Betsie a large embrace.     

    All her life did she only have a handful of good friends. She never was part of a posse or a close group of gossips. She preferred to keep to her own company than indulge in public outings.  But Betsie…she was the closest friend she had ever had even though Betsie was twenty years her senior.    

     “Now, I’ll go see Mr. Cox and bid him farewell before I take my leave.”    

     “All right.”     

    Evelyn waved goodbye and then a minute later entered Mr. Cox’s room. “Mr. Cox, how are you today?”       

   “Oh, I’m getting better day after day. Although sometimes, I wish I could jump out of this cot and run back home to the comfort I love. But then I don’t even know if my home is still standing. It probably isn’t. I don’t know what I’ll do once I’m released. And you…you are doing just that today, aren’t you? You’re leaving me today?”     

    “I’ll come back. I promise. I need to see if my mother is all right, and I must try to find my husband. I hope it won’t be difficult to find a new home. There must be some committee in charge of aiding those who have no place to sleep.”     

    “Yes, I’m sure there is. Well, now I’ll have to fend for myself with you gone and Betsie having no one to restrain her…feisty personality. You know how stubborn the woman is.”     

    “Ha, I know. How will you be able to stand it for more than a few days? I’m sure she’ll drive you mad.” Evelyn’s chuckles were intermingled with choking runaway tears.     

    “I’m praying for you, dear girl.”     

    “During our time of getting to know one another…I know I haven’t voiced any of my own personal beliefs or lack thereof— truly I cannot see what good your prayers will do but thank you.” Evelyn displaced her hand from his and kissed his brow. “Goodbye.”

***

    Exiting the hospital, every step she took seemed as lead, the earth not able to bear the tremendous weight of her uncertainties. A strangeness invaded her body as she noted the way people milled about; their faces couldn’t hide the hurt they had suffered. Would she be able to hail any familiar-looking neighbours, no matter how little she had known them? Or was this populace a new class of breed, one that had been raised overnight to shun the past and push toward a brighter future?    

     What is there left to live for?     

    That was all she needed, to find him. But first she had to see her mother, to see to her present state. She owed the woman who had raised her that much.     

    The coaches and tram services had returned to the streets. Presently, she cared not to be transported by anything nor to share the means of it with any stranger; instead, she decided to walk down to the harbour, which had been rebuilt and was again receiving incoming ships. She wanted to see whether a ferrying service had been established so that she could cross the channel to the other side. As she neared the docks, men were hauling goods off the ships. They shouted commands to each other, and she could faintly hear the merry seamen’s tunes along the breeze. A ship whistled its leave as it was expertly maneuvered away from the docks and out into the channel. The ferry, two hundred feet away from her, was just about to leave.    

     I must make it. There’s no time to lose.     

    With no decorum, she dashed to the ferry’s dock and planted her toes upon the edge. “Sir, sir, please let me board.”     

    “All right. Come on in.” He waved his hand briskly, beckoning her to hurry. After he examined all his equipment was set and all his passengers were safely on board, they sprung from the dock’s hold and out into the open sea. Multitudes of fish scattered from the ferry’s bottom as it chopped through the waves. Evelyn sidled along the edge of the ferry to lean over the railing to drink in the sea air, embracing its crisp savour from the salt, flavouring the deep.     

    What will Mother think when she sees me? Does she think I’m dead? Will she even let me into her home? I haven’t visited her since I wrote her saying Carl and I wouldn’t take any more money from her.    

     Discouraged by her tumultuous thoughts, she turned around and observed the other people on deck. A mother with a small child of about four years huddled together to ward off the wind’s chill. They fondly gazed at another child’s knitted sweater to which the present child clung. Perhaps it had belonged to an older brother or sister. An older man had his arm around a young woman who sobbed her tears onto his chest. And an old woman grimly stared out into the abyss, shaking her head back and forth. The captain of the boat was moving through the small mass of still hurting souls, seeming to want to assure himself all his passengers were at least physically well.    

     “And how are you, Missy?” he asked.     

    “As well as can be, sir.”    

     “The slight rocking motion doesn’t disturb you?”     

    “No, I happen to enjoy it.”     

    “Good, I enjoy hearing of another hearty spirit who enjoys the sea’s waters as much as I do. Yes, well, I better be moving on.” With a quick nod of his head, he cast a glance back to his position and returned post haste.         Evelyn continued to watch him for several minutes. He seemed to have brought his own company aboard the ferry. The man (she assumed) was covered from head to toe in a deep ocean blue cloak shielding the calm grey light from his eyes. His back was bent, the crinkled planes a harsh contrast to the gossamer clouds lazily drifting in the background. The old seafarer exchanged a few words with his esoteric company, patted his back, and returned to his duties.    

     After some time, the ferry approached the Dartmouth shore. As it did, excitement ruffled its way throughout the throng.     

    “Did you hear that one of the Mont Blanc’s gun barrels flew all the way to this side of the Narrows? It landed near Albro Lake. Have you been there before? I could show you the sight today if you like.” A young man wearing a large brown tweed coat accosted a pretty girl and her chaperone.     

    “Oh, yes, that would be very pleasant. Do you not think so Aunt Hilda?”     

    “A lake? We aren’t prepared for such an outing. Would you not rather book into our inn straight away?”     

    “Oh, no, please say yes. I wasn’t here when the explosion occurred. To see a piece of history, a part of the wreckage…And this young man seems quite amiable!”     

    You were lucky not to have been here. You might think differently if you had been.   

    Evelyn lumbered through the crowd, trying her best not to push through linked arms and bent together heads as it would be very rude and unladylike. After freeing herself, she instantly hailed a coach. “Please take me to the Nova Scotia Hospital on Pleasant Street.”     

    “Yes, miss.”     

    Once she arrived, she swung open the door, paid the man his fare, and walked briskly into the hospital only to stop shortly at the receptionist’s desk.     

    “Good day, what can I do for you?” A young woman with glasses perched atop her nose sat behind a desk with several papers neatly stacked in a corner and three pens loosely scattered about.     

    “Good day, I’m looking for a Mrs. Moore, a Jane Moore.”    

     Evelyn had decided to go to the local hospital first to see if her mother was or had been a recent patient. If she was, Evelyn wouldn’t be wasting time going to the house only to discover her mother wasn’t there.         

    “One moment, please.” Her head disappeared behind a stack of files. She took one out and scanned its contents. “No, I’m sorry. We don’t have a Jane Moore nor has she been admitted here for some time.”    

     “Oh, thank you. Thank you for your time…” Evelyn peered to the right of the desk to look at the receptionist’s name card, “ Lucy.”    

     “Have a good day.”     

    "Thank you.”     

    With a a burden lifted off her already cracked heart, a lighter step pervaded her walk. She decided to go to her mother’s house on foot since it was only but a twenty-five minute walk by foot from the hospital.    

     On this side of the Narrows, devastation had also come. However, it wasn’t as widespread as it was to be found in Halifax. The closer she approached her mother’s house on Hastings Drive, the sparser the damage.         The smell of fresh bread wafted along the street through a slightly open bakery window, reminding Evelyn of her restricting childhood. As a secret helper to the cook in her mother’s kitchen, she would slip out before her mother’s arousal from sleep to fetch the fresh bread for the day. The cook could have easily made her own homemade bread; but Evelyn’s mother had said, “Instead of wasting your time making bread, you can be doing other things. We can easily afford it from the bakery."    

     Evelyn cocked her head to the right to gaze longingly at the delectably displayed bread in the large shop window. She would quickly veer from her mission to step in, fill her tickled senses, and say hello to Mr. Longsworth, the shop owner.     

    Ding! Ding! The bell jostled back and forth signalling her entry into one of her favourite abodes. Entering, she found the store to be empty of shoppers and an owner. It was overflowing with all different kinds of breads, baguettes, croissants, and more. A shadow in the back room knocked over a large box. Somewhat fearful to identify another as the present owner and not dear Mr. Longsworth, she turned to leave. But as she did, she saw him entering with a load of tarts on a tray.     

    “Mr. Longsworth!” She clasped her hand over her mouth, horrified at her lack of propriety. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted, but I was…so overjoyed to see you again alive and well.”     

    He came around the counter and put his lean hands upon her shoulders. “There’s no need to apologize Evelyn. I’m glad to see you, dear girl.”    

     “Your family…?”     

    “My wife Florence is no more. The good Lord took her away after the explosion happened. She was on her way to the grocer when…” He rubbed his wrinkling hands over his eyes. “I still have little Matthew. He misses her an awful lot, but he has hope he’ll see her one day. And so do I.”    

     “I’m so sorry, Mr. Longsworth.”    

     “Thank you. I know I might sound somewhat insensitive, but I say this with confidence. Good will come out of this; I know, somehow. Tell me, what brings you out here?”    

     “I’m here to see to my mother’s health. I haven’t seen her for quite some time.”         

     “Ho, I would love to hear her comment if you said that within her hearing’s reach.”    

     “Yes, well, heaven and earth couldn’t escape her brutal honesty.”    

     “Would you like a-pound loaf of fresh bread, free of charge?”    

     “Bless you! Your generosity means a lot to me.”     

    He wrapped the loaf in parchment paper and tied it closed with a string. “And your husband?     

    “My husband…I don’t know where he is. I’ve been at Camp Hill Hospital for the last five weeks recovering from a severe burn. I saw him last the morning of the explosion. He must have been at work when it happened. He hasn’t come by…?”    

     “No, I’m sorry.”    

     The bell jingled several times announcing the arrival of more customers.     

    “Well, I must be going.” A little awkwardly, Evelyn stepped close and wrapped her arms around the lanky man.     

    “Thank you, Evelyn, for stopping by. God bless you!”     

    “Thank you.” As she was leaving, she brought the fresh bread up to her nose inhaling the glorious smell when she suddenly ran into the same heavily cloaked gentleman she saw on the ferry. Over his shoulder, she saw the captain of the ferry.     

    “Begging your pardon, miss,” the old sailor said.     

    “Pardon granted, good day.” She exited the bakery. “Now I can finally see to my mother.”