I wasn’t sure if I would find the courage to ask Sam my questions, but he was the only one who might answer them.
The viewing lasted for several hours. Just before sunset, Sam and Paddy laid Bess’s body into a simple pine coffin, and we proceeded to the North Beach Cemetery, though calling it a cemetery was a courtesy. There were few headstones, and the graves, some still fresh, were dug at odd angles and in haphazard places at the base of Telegraph Hill near Sansome Street. It looked more like a scrapyard where discarded items had been thrown among the graves.
I walked behind the mourners, holding Johnnie and Hazel’s hands until we came to a freshly dug grave in the corner of the cemetery.
Sam and Paddy, with the help of a few others I didn’t know, lowered Bess’s coffin into the ground.
There were at least fifty men standing around the burial plot, their heads lowered and their faces somber. They took off their hats as Sam stepped forward while a gentle breeze blew from the bay.
Tears gathered in Sam’s eyes, and he took a moment to compose himself as he swallowed and let out a ragged breath. It was humbling to watch a strong, masculine man openly mourn. He wasn’t being stoic or detached, but he was showing his emotion with vulnerability and honesty.
“Elizabeth Preston Kendal, Bess, was the finest woman I’ve ever known,” he said. “Her short life was marked with tragedy and pain, but she was strong and brave and good.” He paused again and looked at Johnnie, who was still holding my hand. Sam’s gaze lifted to mine briefly, and I saw appreciation in their depths before he continued. “Bess leaves behind a son, Johnnie Kendal, and countless friends here and in London. She professed her faith in Christ, though she struggled to believe in God’s goodness after—” His voice broke, and he looked down at the ground for several moments, collecting his emotions. “It is my deepest prayer that she made peace with God before she left this world and that she is at home with Him in heaven at this very moment. I know, despite her suffering, God loved her, just as He loves us. And I believe there was a purpose in her pain. Perhaps she didn’t get to see it in the land of the living, but God’s work is never in vain, and there will be redemption for her faithfulness.
“But for us, who are left to grieve, I pray we can take comfort in the prophet Isaiah’s words, that God would give us ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’; that we might be called ‘trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.’”
I was surprised at his sincere words. They warmed my heart in unexpected ways and upended more of my preconceived ideas about Sam Kendal. Who was this man before me? His sheer size, scarred appearance, and complicated past told one story, yet his faith-filled words and love for his family told another.
After saying a prayer, he walked over to Johnnie and took him to the grave to throw dirt onto the coffin. Then he lifted the boy into his arms and strode away from the cemetery without a backward glance.
Darkness had fallen on San Francisco, and with it, the sounds of Sydney Town increased in volume. The gambling hall next door was especially loud as I helped Johnnie, Hazel, and Father into bed that night.
“I can sleep on the pallet,” Father said as I pulled a blanket over the children on the floor next to the bed. “It isn’t right that I’m in this massive bed and the rest of you are sleeping on the floor.”
I had cleaned the room after Bess’s funeral and changed the bedding, then Paddy helped me bring Father downstairs so I could keep a better eye on him. Hazel had insisted that she sleep next to Johnnie on the floor to keep him company so he wouldn’t be afraid, and I would take the other pallet on the opposite side of the small room. It would be crowded, but it offered a bit more privacy and safety for the four of us.
“I won’t hear of it,” I told him. “You need to get better, and the only way to do that is to be comfortable and rest.”
He mumbled under his breath, though I knew he didn’t have enough strength to put up a real fight.
Johnnie looked at me with his big brown eyes, and my heart broke all over again. Not only had he lost his mother, but he had no way of communicating his pain or fear. I laid my hand on his cheek, like I had done earlier, and smiled at him. “Did your mama pray for you at night?”
He didn’t speak or nod his head, but I saw the truth in his eyes. He’d had a praying mama.
“I’ll say a blessing for you and Hazel,” I told him. “‘The Lordbless thee—”
“Wait,” Hazel said as she took Johnnie’s hand in hers. “He needs me to hold his hand. It makes us feel better.”
I smiled to myself and nodded, then started over. “‘The Lordbless thee, and keep thee: the Lordmake his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lordlift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’”
“Can I pray for a kitty?” Hazel asked as they stared up at me. “Will God give one to me if I ask Him, Ally?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“You can ask God for anything you’d like,” I finally said. “But it’s up to Him to decide what is best for you.”
“He’ll give me a kitty if it’s best for me?”
“Yes.”
“A kitty would be very good for me,” she said with a grin, as if it was a done deal. “And for Johnnie. I’ll tell God that tonight.”
I longed to give her the desire of her heart, but things were so uncertain.
After kissing their foreheads and saying good night to Father, I picked up the lantern and took a deep breath.
Sam had been in the kitchen when I took the children to bed, and I half hoped he’d still be there. I needed to understand this man who had asked me to work for him, and I wanted to discuss the terms of our agreement. I still hoped and prayed Father would get well enough to go to the goldfields, but in the meantime, I had to work for Sam.
Yet, I was terrified just thinking about it.
