Where We Belong by Lynn Austin

Author:Lynn Austin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;FIC042030;FIC014000;FIC026000
ISBN: 9781493412181
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Flora stared at the mound of ash and bricks that was once her home. It was unrecognizable, apart from the crumbling chimney in their former drawing room. “I expected our house to be gone,” she said, “but seeing this is still a terrible shock.” She searched the pockets of her scorched skirt in vain for a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

“So much loss,” Edmund said, his arm around her shoulder. “But at least we’re all safe.”

He had flagged down an empty freight wagon late Tuesday afternoon when they were certain the fire was out and paid the driver handsomely to take them home. The devastation they passed along the way was incomprehensible—miles and miles of burned-out homes and businesses and churches. Only one arched wall of the Great Central Depot remained standing. The entire city had been destroyed with only charred remains of walls and chimney stacks rising above the rubble. Even the trees had been reduced to charcoal. Chicago’s bewildered citizens milled around in the still-smoking ruins, searching for even the smallest remnant of their past. Flora didn’t have the heart to drive through the city center where Father’s office had once been; she knew from viewing the gutted buildings in the distance that it was gone, too.

“All Father’s business investments,” she lamented. “All those properties that he owned—that we owned—are gone!”

“Were they insured?” Edmund asked.

“Some were. And we still own the land. I suppose we could rebuild and start all over again. It’s just too overwhelming to think about right now.”

Their neighborhood, all the way to the lakeshore, was a scene of desolation. The piles of furniture that her neighbors had dragged to safety still lined the waterfront, but where would the furniture go? Everyone’s home had been lost.

“Let’s look for the things we buried in the backyard.” Becky said. Flora followed her as she picked her way through the fallen bricks and charred beams that filled the driveway. The kitchen wall had fallen in, and she could see the twisted, melted remains of the cast iron cookstove. Flora knew she needed to rise above her shock and despair and figure out how they would eat, where they would live. Their only clothes were the filthy, raggedy ones they’d been wearing since Sunday night, pocked with burn holes. The soles of her shoes, ruined and threadbare from walking, were about to separate from the uppers. Why hadn’t she at least packed a change of clothing?

Flora surveyed the remains of the carriage house and Rufus’ apartment. Where would he live? Where would they board their horses? So many questions and no answers.

Becky found the mound of dirt where their only remaining possessions lay buried, but their shovel no longer had a wooden handle, and the melted, misshapen blade was useless for digging. “So much for that,” Becky said, tossing the blade on the ground again. “I suppose there’s no place to store our belongings even if we could dig them up. We may as well leave them buried for now.

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