Cracks in the Sidewalk(92)

“This will be piping hot in no time,” she said. “It’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“I don’t think so,” Louise replied, looking like someone about to throw up what they hadn’t yet eaten. She turned and headed back to the bedroom.

Claire followed her. “You’ve got to eat something. You’ve got to keep your strength up. If you don’t eat—”

Louise waved Claire off with a flutter of her hand and climbed back into bed.

In the past two years Claire had become an expert at distinguishing fever from flushed, and she could tell the seriousness of a person’s sickness with little more than a glance. She placed her hand on Louise’s forehead and gasped.

“You’re burning up! You’ve got to get to the hospital!”

Louise protested, but by the time Claire stopped to listen an ambulance was already on its way.

When the medics loaded Louise into the ambulance Claire climbed in with her, and when they wheeled her into the emergency room Claire tagged along. Other than a sister in Minnesota, Louise had no one. She needed a friend, and Claire decided to be that friend.

She sat beside Louise throughout the day. She followed when they readied a room and moved Louise to an upstairs ward, and when Louise asked her if she would take care of teaching Sunday school for another week or two, Claire said yes.

Claire didn’t leave the hospital until nearly eight o’clock that evening. The sky had gone dark and icy cold while sleet drizzled. She thought of telephoning Charlie to pick her up, but she didn’t want to drag him out on a night such as this so she took a taxi. The ride usually took fifteen minutes at most, but when the taxi driver got to her street he stopped. Whirling lights from police cars and fire engines set the entire block ablaze, and the street was cordoned off.

“I’m gonna have to let you off here,” the driver said.

Claire thought of Charlie. She handed the driver a twenty dollar bill, jumped from the car, and began running down the street. No, her heart screamed, no, not Charlie, please, God, not Charlie! Then from a distance she spotted him huddled with a group of neighbors, all of them shaking their heads mournfully.

“What’s happened?” she exclaimed, running toward them.

Charlie pointed toward Louise’s house—now little more than a blackened shell.

An image of the soup pot sitting on the stove flashed through Claire’s mind and she fainted.





When Claire came to she lay on her sofa, but the image returned and she began to cry. “What have I done?” she moaned.

“You?” Charlie said, looking bewildered.

Claire explained how she was responsible for the fire, how she’d set the soup on to heat then forgotten to take it off the stove, how she carelessly left the potholders atop the stove and how—

“You’re not to blame,” Charlie interrupted.

“I know you’re trying to be kind, but the truth is—”

“No, I mean, you’re really not to blame. The furnace exploded, and that’s what started the fire.”

“The furnace?”

“No doubt about it. Everyone on the street heard the explosion. We all came running out and Harry called the fire department right away, but the house was gone before they got here.”

“It was the furnace?”

“Yes,” Charlie answered. “It was old, and with the weather as cold as it’s been Louise probably had it turned up high.”

“You’re positive it was the furnace? The soup had nothing to do with it?”

“Absolutely nothing! In fact, you probably saved Louise’s life by getting her out of the house before it happened.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief, then began worrying about where Louise would live once she came home from the hospital. With her house in ashes, there was no place unless…

Claire looked at Charlie and said, “Louise can live here. We’ve got that empty bedroom upstairs. It’s the perfect solution.

“I’ve no objection, but she might not want—”

“She doesn’t have family; where else can she go?”

“Doesn’t she have a sister?”

“In Minnesota! If it’s this cold here, can you imagine how cold it is there?”

~

The next morning Claire returned to the hospital with a heavy heart. It had fallen upon her to be the bearer of bad tidings. She found Louise sitting up in bed.

“You look a lot better.” Claire forced cheerfulness into her voice.

“I feel a lot better,” Louise replied. “And I have you to thank.”

“Nonsense. What are friends for?”

Claire knew she had to tell her about the fire. “We’re friends,” she said, “and friends do whatever they can to help one another.”

Louise smiled and gave Claire’s hand an affectionate pat.

“For example, if my house were to burn down tomorrow, I just know you’d insist that Charlie and I come and live with you—and we would.”

Louise laughed. “Then you’d be two fools. That drafty old house is a terrible place to live. It’s cold all the time, and the windows rattle every time a breeze passes by. Soon as I can sell the place, me and Clovis are gonna get us a nice little house in Florida. We’ve done decided.”