The Nature of Fragile Things

By Susan Meissner

April 18, 1906: A massive earthquake rocks San Francisco just before daybreak, igniting a devouring inferno. Lives are lost, lives are shattered, but some rise from the ashes forever changed.

Sophie Whalen is a young Irish immigrant so desperate to get out of a New York tenement that she answers a mail-order bride ad and agrees to marry a man she knows nothing about. San Francisco widower Martin Hocking proves to be as aloof as he is mesmerizingly handsome. Sophie quickly develops deep affection for Kat, Martin's silent five-year-old daughter, but Martin's odd behavior leaves her with the uneasy feeling that something about her newfound situation isn't right.

Then one early-spring evening, a stranger at the door sets in motion a transforming chain of events. Sophie discovers hidden ties to two other women. The first, pretty and pregnant, is standing on her doorstep. The second is hundreds of miles away in the American Southwest, grieving the loss of everything she once loved.

The fates of these three women intertwine on the eve of the devastating earthquake, thrusting them onto a perilous journey that will test their resiliency and resolve and, ultimately, their belief that love can overcome fear.

From the acclaimed author of The Last Year of the War and As Bright as Heaven comes a gripping novel about the bonds of friendship and mother love, and the power of female solidarity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
• Release date: Feb 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9780451492203

Susan Meissner

Susan Meissner is a USA TODAY bestselling author with more than three-quarters of a million books in print in eighteen languages. Her novels have been named to numerous "best of" lists, including Publishers Weekly, Booklist, Goodreads, and Real Simple magazine. A former newspaper editor, Susan attended Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego and lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their yellow Lab, Winston. When she's not writing, Susan loves long walks, good coffee, and reading bedtime stories to her grandchildren. Visit her online at susanmeissnerauthor.com; Instagram: @susanmeissnerauthor; Twitter: @SusanMeissner; Facebook: @susan.meissner; and Pinterest: @SusanMeissner.

Book preview

1

INTERVIEW WITH MRS. SOPHIE HOCKING

CONDUCTED BY AMBROSE LOGAN, U.S. MARSHAL

CASE NUMBER 069308

Official transcript

San Francisco, CA

November 6, 1906

QUESTION: Thank you again for coming. Could you please state your full name, age, birth date, and the city where you were born, for the record?

ANSWER: Sophie Whalen Hocking. August 24, 1884. Donaghadee, County Down, Ireland. I’m twenty-two.

QUESTION: Whalen is your maiden name, correct?

ANSWER: It is.

QUESTION: Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve a few questions for the record, since you and I have not had an opportunity to speak before now. You emigrated from Ireland to the United States in 1903 and spent your first two years in this country in Lower Manhattan, New York City. Is that correct?

ANSWER: Yes. Nearly the first two years. Not quite that.

QUESTION: So you were nineteen when you emigrated?

ANSWER: Yes. So why is it you and I have not spoken before? Has the other detective moved away?

QUESTION: No, Detective Morris is still on the case. I was brought in only recently. I’m a U.S. marshal.

ANSWER: I don’t know what that is, sir.

QUESTION: United States marshals serve at the federal level of law enforcement rather than local.

ANSWER: Oh. So . . . so you are also a detective, then?

QUESTION: I investigate federal crimes, yes. May we continue?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: Can you confirm for me that you married one Martin Hocking on March 10, 1905, at the courthouse here in San Francisco?

ANSWER: Yes. Yes, I did. Do you have news of my husband? Is that why you’ve called me in?

QUESTION: Possibly. Again, for the record, did you report your husband, Martin Hocking, missing six weeks after the earthquake that occurred on April 18 of this year?

ANSWER: I did, yes.

QUESTION: Can you tell me why you waited six weeks to notify the police that your husband was missing?

ANSWER: He travels for his job. I didn’t know for sure he was missing at first.

QUESTION: You’ve stated previously you fled your home on Polk Street with your stepdaughter, Katharine Hocking, in the minutes following the earthquake. Is that correct?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: And the house on Polk Street was still standing when you left?

ANSWER: It . . . everything was broken and shattered inside, and the chimney had fallen off, but, yes, it was still standing.

QUESTION: And when you returned six weeks later was it still standing then?

ANSWER: I told the police before. It had burned. Every house on the street had burned. Every house in our neighborhood burned. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but do you not know what happened in this city? Have you not looked around?

QUESTION: I assure you, I’m not here to mock the loss of your home, Mrs. Hocking. I am only establishing the facts for the record. My record. I apologize for asking questions you have already answered. But I must ask them. You returned to your home six weeks after the earthquake and found it had burned? There was nothing left of it?

ANSWER: Nothing but ashes.

QUESTION: And you would have no way of knowing if Mr. Hocking returned to the house after the earthquake but before it burned?

ANSWER: How could I? I was not there.

QUESTION: Yes. Now, if we may go back to the day of the earthquake. You have said that you and Katharine found your way to the refugee camp at Golden Gate Park when the fires began. Do I have that right?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: And during your four days at the refugee camp you didn’t hear from your husband, correct? He did not join you there?

ANSWER: No. As I said before, he was away on a business trip. He travels for a living.

QUESTION: So, to be clear, your husband left on his business trip before the earthquake and you have had no contact with him since?

ANSWER: I have not. Have you come by some new information about where he is? I think I have a right to know.

QUESTION: I believe I have come upon some new information, yes. But I’m not sure if this new intelligence aligns with what we know already. That is why I need to revisit some of the details you provided from the initial investigation into his disappearance, to see if what I’ve recently learned is consistent with the previously reported details. May we continue?

ANSWER: If this will assist you in finding my husband, then of course.

QUESTION: Thank you. Now, for the record, then, you married Martin Hocking the same day you met him, is that correct?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: And can you tell me why you did that?

ANSWER: Why I did what?

QUESTION: Married Mr. Hocking the same day you met him.

ANSWER: It is not against the law to marry someone you’ve just met, is it?

QUESTION: Indeed, it is not. I am curious, you see.

ANSWER: I married Martin because he asked me.

QUESTION: You had answered a newspaper advertisement that he’d placed in the New York Times? For a wife and mother. He had advertised that he was a widower with a young child. Do I have that right?

ANSWER: Yes.

QUESTION: And then you traveled to San Francisco from New York to marry Mr. Hocking, even though the two of you had not yet met?

ANSWER: I did.

QUESTION: Because?

ANSWER: Because, what?

QUESTION: Mrs. Hocking, are you declining to tell me why you married a man you’d only just met?

ANSWER: I am not declining, sir. I married him because I wanted to.

2

March 1905

The sun is dissolving like an enchantment as I stand at the ferry railing and look out on the San Francisco horizon. The day will end jubilant. Jubilant. This is the word I chose this morning from Da’s book of words, and I’ve been keen to use it since breakfast. My father wrote that jubilant means you feel as though you finally possess everything you’ve always wanted, you are that happy. I like the way the word rolls off my tongue when I say it. I want to believe the day will end on a jubilant note. I am counting on it.

Most of the ferry’s passengers aren’t on the deck watching the golden sun fold itself into the western rim of the sky. They are seated inside, out of the bracing wind, but I don’t want to be tucked indoors after six long days on a train.

I close my eyes as the heady fragrance of the ocean transports me as if in a dream to Gram’s cottage in Donaghadee above the slate Irish Sea. I can see the house in my mind’s eye just as it was when I was young, back when life was simple. I can see Gram making me a cup of sugar tea in her kitchen while a harbor breeze tickles the lace curtains she made from her wedding dress, two days after marrying my Anglican grandfather. On the kitchen table are shortbread cookies arranged on the daisy plate, and still warm from the oven. She is humming an old Gaelic tune. . . .

But no.

I’ve spent too many hours pondering what I wouldn’t do to go back in time to Gram’s kitchen, what I’d be willing to give up. What I’d be willing to give. I open my eyes to behold again the nearness of the San Francisco docks.

Backward glances are of no use to me now.

I move away from the railing to the shelter of an overhang and tuck loose strands of hair back into place. I don’t want to step off the ferry looking like a street urchin. Not today.

I look down at my skirt to see how bad the wrinkles are. Not too noticeable in the day’s diminishing light. My journey from New York to California took place on a second-class seat, not in a private sleeping car, hence the creases. I’d not expected anything different, as Martin Hocking had written that he is in good financial standing, not that he is rich. That he has means of any amount is miracle enough. I would have ridden in the baggage car all the way to get out of the umbrella factory and the tenement, and especially away from young Irishwomen just like me who reminded me too frequently of what I left back home.

If my mother could see me now, she’d no doubt put me on the first train back to New York. But then, Mam doesn’t know how bad it was. I didn’t want to worry her, so she doesn’t know that the room I was subletting with four flatmates was no bigger than a kitchen pantry and that a single spigot in the back alley provided the only water to drink, bathe, and cook with for the entire building. She doesn’t know everyone dumped their chamber pots out their windows because there were no indoor toilets—despite city ordinances requiring them—and that the stink of human waste hung on the air like a drape. The tenement wasn’t a place to come home to at the end of the workday. It was just a shared room with sagging mattresses, a place where dreams for a better life could unravel faster than your threadbare clothes, and where girls like me from Belfast and Armagh and Derry and other Irish towns laid their heads at night.

I had a neighbor lady in Chicago when I was growing up who was from Ireland, a woman seated across from me said hours earlier, as our train chuffed through the Nevada desert. She came to America as a young girl during that terrible time when there was nothing to eat in Ireland and nothing would grow. That was years ago. I wasn’t even born yet, so that was long before you were alive. She told me it was something awful, that time. Whole families starved to death. The woman shook her head in pity.

There isn’t a soul back home who hasn’t heard of those long years of scarcity. Everyone in County Down called that time the Great Famine. Gram, who defiantly spoke Gaelic until her dying breath, called it An Gorta Mór. The Great Hunger, as if to say it wasn’t the lack of food that is remembered but how that stretch of years made people feel. Ravenous and empty and wanting.

Yes. I’ve been told ’twas a terrible time, I replied.

The woman then asked if I’d immigrated to America with my whole family.

I thought of Mason, my brother who came to America first and sponsored me, and who is now living somewhere in Canada with a woman he fell in love with. No. Just me.

You came all by yourself? the woman said. I think that’s very brave. And you’re so young!

I smiled at this because some days I feel as though I’ve already lived several lifetimes and others as though I haven’t lived any kind of life at all, that I’m still waiting for it to start. Or waiting for it to start over.

I answered I was twenty, nearly twenty-one.

What lovely cheekbones you have, and such beautiful black hair, the woman continued. I didn’t know Irish had black hair. I thought you were all redheads and blonds and auburns.

And then the woman asked what was bringing me all the way from New York to San Francisco.

So many reasons. I gave her the easy one. I’m getting married.

The woman offered me her congratulations and asked what my future husband’s name was. As she did so, I realized I was itching to have someone older and wiser tell me I was making a sensible choice, an understandable one, considering how hard and complicated the world is.

His name is Mr. Martin Hocking. Would you like to see his picture?

The woman smiled and nodded.

I reached into my handbag and pulled out the photograph Martin had mailed to me. He was dressed in a vested pinstripe suit, his wavy hair gelled into place and his trimmed mustache partly covering his lips. He wore a fixed, charismatic gaze that I’d gotten lost in every time I looked at it. I’d had the photograph for less than two weeks but I knew its every inch.

My, oh my! But he is handsome, the woman said. Such striking eyes. He looks like he could see into your very soul.

He’s . . . he’s a widower, newly arrived to San Francisco from Los Angeles. He has a little girl named Katharine. He calls her Kat. She’s only five. Her mother died of consumption and the child has had a rough time of it.

Oh, how sad! Aren’t you a dear to take on the role of mother and wife all at once. The woman reached for my arm and laid her hand gently across it in astonishment, empathy, and maybe even admiration. And then she wished upon me every happiness and excused herself to find a porter to get a cup of tea.

I wanted the woman to ask how I met Martin so that I could gauge her response, but even after she came back with her cup, she didn’t ask. While she was off to look for the porter, I imagined how I would’ve replied. I withdraw the photograph now from my handbag and remind myself of that answer as the pier grows ever nearer.

I’ve not met him yet, I would’ve said to the woman. I answered his newspaper advertisement. He was looking for a new wife for himself and a new mother for his little girl. He didn’t want a woman from San Francisco. He wanted someone from the East, where he is from. Someone who doesn’t need coddling. Someone who is ready to step into his late wife’s role without fanfare. I wrote to him and told him I didn’t need coddling. I wanted what he could offer me—a nice and cozy home, someone to care for, a child to love.

The woman, surely wide-eyed, might’ve replied, But . . . but what if you are unhappy with him? What if he is unkind to you?

And I would’ve told her that this is what I’d contemplated the longest in my tenement room before I left it, while rats scurried back and forth in the hall, while babies cried and men drank their sorrows and women wailed theirs, while the couple in the room above banged the walls while they fought and the couple in the room below banged the walls while they pleasured each other, and while my stomach clenched in hunger and I shivered in the damp.

It can’t be worse than what I’ve already known, I would’ve said. Besides. He doesn’t look like someone who would hurt people, does he?

I look at the portrait now, at this visage of a man who looks as near to perfection as a man could.

Would the woman have tried to talk me out of what I am about to do? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Half of my flatmates thought I was crazy, and the other half were jealous I’d found the advertisement and they hadn’t. Mam does not know what I will do when I get off this boat, and I’m not writing her of it until it’s already done.

Even after I finally tell her how miserable the tenement was, Mam will still want to know what possessed me to marry a man I don’t know. This was not the plan when I left Ireland to come to America. This was not what she’d wanted for me when she helped me pack my one travel bag. I had pondered what answer to give to that question, too. I’d already started the letter I would send to my mother.

I want a home, I’d written in broad terms, so that if another reads the letter—perhaps one of my two older brothers still in Ireland—they, too, will understand. I want what I had when I was a little girl. A warm house and clean clothes and food in the pantry. I want to sing lullabies and mend torn rompers and make jam and cakes and hot cocoa, like you did. And I want to have someone to share it all with. I just want what you had, back when you had it.

But what above love? my mother will want to know, because even though Da has been gone for too many years, Mam still loves him. She still feels like she is married to him.

What about love?

What about it?

The ferry is closing in on its slip, easing its way to the dock and the men who stand ready to tie up its moorings. Beyond the ferry building, the spread of the city beyond looks like an aspiring snip of Manhattan, with towers and multistoried structures lifting themselves skyward. The sun is beginning to dip below the buildings, casting a rosy glow that tinges everything with haloed light. The passengers in the main cabin behind me are already making their way downstairs to queue up to disembark.

I slip Martin’s photograph back inside my handbag and straighten my hat. It was Mam’s years ago, and made from the prettiest blue velvet and satin trim, both of which still hint at their original luster. Even slightly out of style, the hat pairs nicely with my dove gray shirtwaist, the only good dress I own, and I’d written Martin that I’d be wearing it. I reach for the travel bag resting at my feet.

Every step toward the ramp to the pier is taking me farther away from who I am and closer to who I am going to be. As I step off the ship and join the throngs moving toward the ferry building, I look to see if Martin Hocking is outside it studying the crowd of passengers, searching for me. Is his little girl with him? Is Kat wearing a pretty little frock to meet her new mother?

I don’t see him in the sea of faces awaiting the arrival of passengers. Maybe he is waiting inside.

Dusk is descending like a veil and the electric lamps surrounding the ferry building are hissing as they come to life. The crowd starts to thin.

And then I see him. Martin Hocking is standing just outside the entrance, in a pool of amber light cast by a lamp above him. His gaze is beyond me and to the right of where I stand. Even from many feet away I can see he is as stunning as his portrait. Not merely handsome, but beautiful. He wears a coffee brown suit and polished black shoes. His hair, as golden brown as toast, is perfectly in place. He’s tall, nearly six feet, I’d wager. He is not overly muscular and yet he has strength in his arms and torso, I can see that. He looks like royalty, like a Greek god.

And those eyes.

My seatmate was right. Martin Hocking’s eyes look like they could peer into my very soul.

Time seems to stand still as niggling questions that I’ve ignored for days again needle me. Why does such a man want a mail-order bride the likes of me? This man could probably court any woman in San Francisco looking the way he does. He wrote to me that his desire to secure a new wife was for practical purposes—he needs a mother for his daughter—but also because he needs to be viewed as a fortunate businessman rather than a pathetic widower and father. Appearances matter when you work for a life insurance company and interact with their wealthy clients. And yet why send away to the East for someone, a stranger no less, and why choose a bride as uncultured as myself? And why doesn’t he want the intrigue of romance? I know why I’m not keen to wait for it, but why isn’t he?

Unless he is so grieved over the loss of his first wife that he can’t imagine ever loving another. Unless he wants companionship and hot meals and a clean house but not romance. Not love.

Perhaps Martin Hocking wants—more than anything else—a Cinderella of a girl precisely like me, with no family, no background, and the simplest of desires. After all, what do I bring to this arrangement except my willingness? My emptiness? My gorta mór—my great hunger for everything Martin already has and which for me has been so elusive—a secure home, a child to love, food and clothes and a bed that doesn’t smell of poverty.

If this is true, I am practically perfect for him.

And then he turns his head in my direction. Our eyes meet. Martin’s closed mouth curves into a relieved, welcoming smile, and it’s almost as if he’d indeed read my thoughts.

Yes, that half smile seems to say. You are exactly what I wanted.

I step forward.

3

Martin Hocking is alone.

I hadn’t realized how much I wanted his daughter to be waiting there with him until it is clear she isn’t. Perhaps Martin had asked Kat if she wanted to accompany him and she’d said no. Or maybe he’d asked and she’d said nothing. Martin had written me that his daughter had withdrawn into near silence following the death of her mother, speaking only an occasional word here and there. Maybe he’d invited her to come along and gotten no response at all.

Welcome to San Francisco, Sophie, Martin says as soon as he is close to me. His voice is a little deeper than I’d imagined, a little softer. He doesn’t seem nervous, not even a little. And he called me Sophie, not Miss Whalen. My first name fell off his lips as though we’ve known each other for years. He takes my hand and clasps it like we are old school chums.

Thank you, I say, and then, in an attempt to match his relaxed tone, I add, Martin.

He lets go of my hand. I’m glad you’re here, he says, without visible emotion, and yet he doesn’t sound insincere. He sounds satisfied, relieved perhaps that I didn’t change my mind.

Yes, I’m happy to be here as well.

He reaches for my travel bag. Do you have a trunk that needs to be sent along to the house?

I own nothing else and my cheeks warm a degree. I don’t.

But Martin doesn’t seem concerned or amazed that the entirety of my worldly possessions fits into a single travel bag and the handbag I am clutching. We’ve only a few minutes before the courthouse closes, and they are expecting us. He speaks the words as though we might merely miss the opening lines of a play if we don’t hurry. We leave the dock and enter the expansive and busy ferry building. We walk through quickly to the street entrance on the other side.

Delicate wisps of fog are just starting to swirl down upon the city, gauzy as gray silk and so very much like the approach of evening on the northern coast of Ireland. The street bustles with end-of-workday activity. A few automobiles sputter and cough as dozens of horse-drawn carriages and delivery wagons skirt them without much notice or fear. A streetcar full of riders rattles past.

I’ve a carriage for us just here. Martin leads us to an ebony-hued buggy hitched to an even blacker horse that waits curbside. The driver opens the door for me and I step inside. Martin climbs in to sit across from me.

As the carriage begins to move, he asks if my travel was acceptable.

Yes, thank you. It was.

He nods.

Is Kat waiting for us to return after . . . after our errand? I ask.

Yes.

And then, because I must, I ask Martin if he has changed his mind about anything we’d agreed upon in our previous correspondence.

I have not, he replies. Have you?

No.

Then we’re settled.

Yes.

And then, since we are apparently all set, Martin casts his gaze out the carriage window.

I had expected nervous conversation in the carriage or a string of questions politely thrown in my direction or perhaps a steady stream of information from him about his daughter or maybe even his dead wife. But Martin doesn’t speak as the carriage makes its way to the courthouse. Perhaps he is shy around women? Or maybe he is choosing to mask any nervousness with silence, just as I am. Some minutes later the carriage comes to a stop.

You can leave your travel bag, Martin says as he reaches for the handle. The driver is going to wait. Martin steps out and then assists me. The combined courthouse and city hall looms in front of us like an opulent palace, with great columns of carved marble and a sparkling dome that is half-blanketed in light mist and twilight.

Inside, we walk swiftly through the echoing foyer and toward the offices of the justice of the peace, the heels of my shoes clicking on the marble flooring.

We enter a courtroom where another civil ceremony appears to have just concluded. The black-robed judge, graying and portly, is shuffling papers behind his tall desk, and at a table next to him a woman in a dark blue dress is showing the newlywed couple’s witnesses where to sign the certificate of marriage. A photographer is taking a portrait of the bride and groom. The bride is wearing a canary yellow shirtwaist, and her new husband a gray suit the color of thunderclouds. The two of them look like sunshine and rain, but they are beaming—joyful and clearly in love. A trio of lilies rests in the crook of the woman’s arm.

Next couple, please? The clerk of the court—a lean, bespectacled man—looks past the freshly married couple to where we stand. Mr. Hocking and Miss Whalen?

Yes, we’re here. Martin reaches for my hand and leads me forward to stand in front of the justice’s immense oaken desk.

Stand right here, the clerk says. If you have rings, get them ready. The judge will address you in just a moment.

Thank you, Martin replies, without a hint of uneasiness.

No witnesses of your own? the clerk asks in a bored tone.

No. It’s just us.

The man turns to the woman in the blue dress. I’ll need you to stay and be a witness for this last one, Mrs. Farriday.

The woman nods as she gathers back her fountain pens and the document from the previous two witnesses. The happy couple in yellow and gray walk away arm in arm.

The photographer turns to Martin. I’ll take your photograph, as well, if you’d like, sir. I do nice work. Only a dollar for a nice portrait for your mantel. And I’ll set you up for a set of cabinet photographs for giving away. Only two dollars for a dozen.

No, thank you, Martin replies, not even looking at the man.

But I want a photograph of my wedding day. I want Mam to see this refined gentleman I am marrying, and how content I look on his arm. I want her to believe it will be different for me this time. I want to believe it, too.

I touch Martin’s arm. Please, may we have him take a photograph?

Martin swivels to face me.

I would like one for my mother. And one for us. Shouldn’t we have one for us? And maybe one for your parents back east?

He considers this for several seconds and then turns to the photographer. We won’t need a dozen. Just two. One for the mantel and one for her mother.

Martin hands the photographer the money and gives him an address. He then fishes out of his pants pocket two gold rings. The smaller one is set with a tiny glittering sapphire. He hands the larger one, a plain gold band, to me. It is smooth and warm in my palm.

And then the clerk is in front of us, telling us the judge is ready. The vows are simple and short. In a matter of mere breaths, it seems, the judge is finished and the rings are exchanged. The judge pronounces us married and then he stands and bids us good night.

There is no kiss to seal our vows. Our words did that, and the certificate will bear witness that we indeed said them.

I am led to a long table, handed a fountain pen, and told where to sign my name. Martin signs next, followed by the woman in the blue dress and the clerk. The judge, gone now, has already signed it.

All right, then, the photographer says to us. If you’ll just turn toward me, folks. Sir, if you’ll just slip one hand into your pocket there.

Martin and I stand as directed and the photographer takes the shot in a burst of bright light from his flash lamp.

The clerk and Mrs. Farriday are leaving by another door, and the photographer is hoisting his camera and flash pole on his shoulder and heading out of the emptying courtroom. I look down at the ring on my finger. Under the amber light of the ceiling lamps, Martin’s little sapphire sparkles like a tiny moonlit ocean.

Night has fallen soft and ghostly when we emerge from the courthouse. Swaths of denser fog now hug the streetlamps and obscure the sky like a never-ending bridal train. We climb back into the waiting carriage.

Martin is again quiet as we ride. The silence doesn’t seem to fit the occasion, even one as unusual as ours. I clear my throat. Thank you for allowing that photographer to take our portrait.

Martin turns his gaze from the window to look at me. You’re welcome.

So . . . are you sure you don’t want to send a photograph back home to your parents as well? I am wondering if he, like me, is hesitant to inform his family of what he’s just done. When he doesn’t answer me, I add, I understand if you’re anxious about telling your parents. I . . . I actually feel the same way about telling my mam.

He hesitates a moment. My parents died when I was little, he finally replies, his tone betraying nothing of what it might’ve felt like to say those words to me. I was raised by an aunt and uncle back east. We’re not close.

My heart instantly aches a little for him. I’m so sorry.

It’s all right, he says easily. I don’t remember my parents.

Still, I’m sure it was very difficult for you losing your parents so young like that. How did it happen?

They were coming home from an event in the city but were caught in a blizzard no one knew was coming. They lost their way and froze to death in their carriage.

Oh, Martin.

That was a long time ago. I don’t think about it anymore.

I wonder if this man has spent his whole lifetime telling himself it was just a small thing that he grew up without his mother and father. How does someone school himself to believe losing parents at such a young age doesn’t matter? I can’t imagine it. I lost my father when I was sixteen and it was nearly my undoing. I wait a moment to see if Martin will query me about my own parents.

My mam likely won’t approve, I say when he doesn’t. I’m not sure what my father would’ve thought. I turn my head to look out the window. I see only mist and other carriages and the hulking shapes of buildings in the undulating fog. He probably would’ve said it was imprudent or preposterous, what I’ve just done. My da liked using fancy words. He collected them in a book like some people collect old coins. He wanted to go to university and become a professor, but there was no money for that. He became a roofer just like his father had been. But he taught himself what he could on his own. He was always borrowing books from the rich people in the village who had libraries. He’d read the books out loud to me and my brothers, and he’d find so many words he wanted to remember. He wrote them in a little ledger. He fell from a roof a few years ago. He never woke up from the fall and died a few days later. He was such a gentle soul. I turn to face Martin, my

Reviews for The Nature of Fragile Things

[rmarcin-630843 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In 1905, Sophie Whalen, an Irish immigrant, travels from NYC to San Francisco to marry Martin Hocking, a widower with a 5 year-old daughter, Kat. They marry immediately and she is taken to their new home. Sophie realizes that Kat is withdrawn and needs clothing, but Martin doesn't seem to notice, which Sophie believes is due to his grief. Martin travels often for work. Sophie adores Kat and works to draw her out. When a stranger comes to the door one evening, Sophie's world is upended. Then, the earthquake of 1906 hits and the city is in disarray.
I really enjoyed how Meissner wrote this time period and the characters.

[cbl_tn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Young Irish immigrant Sophie has agreed to become the mail order bride of California widower Martin Hocking and mother to his small daughter, Kat. After her mother’s death, Kat stopped speaking. Under Sophie’s care, Kat slowly emerges from her shell. Everything changes the day of the San Francisco earthquake in 1906. Whatever happens from this point on, Sophie is determined to protect the child she’s come to love as her own daughter.

I wanted to like this book more than I did. The story is well-paced and the relationships between Sophie, her friends, and Kat are beautifully depicted. The audio narrator’s delivery is outstanding. However, the plot hinges on some glaring inaccuracies. First of all, Martin is repeatedly referred to as a polygamist when the correct term for his behavior is bigamist. Secondly, Sophie finds documents in Martin’s desk that she keeps as proof of his identity theft and his bigamy, and the U.S. marshal who interviews Sophie about Martin’s disappearance reveals that he has the same kind of documents proving her real identity. These documents include birth or death certificates for people who were born in and who died in the 19th century. Birth and death certificates are a twentieth-century development. Most states were just beginning to issue them at the time that this book is set.

[carriewuj · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Solid historical fiction from a not WWII era. Sophie Whalen is an Irish immigrant and after a couple miserable years in NYC, answers a mail-order bride ad that brings her out to San Francisco and Martin Hocking, who needs a wife to care for his 5-year-old daughter, Kat and keep up respectable appearances. His good looks sweeten the deal, as well as the well-appointed home he has. While it isn't instant love or even attraction, Sophie settles into her new life, and is smitten with Kat and comfortable with enough food and warmth for the first time in her grown-up life. All seems well until the reader notices the dates - leading up to the massive 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Part of the story is told in police interview - Martin goes missing in the disaster and Sophie has not tried urgently to find him - and the reasons why slowly unfold - both to her and to the reader. On the eve of the earthquake - which no one knows is coming - a woman shows up at Sophie's door looking for her own husband who she believes is employed by Martin. What the two discover and the dark places that leads them is the tension and drama that makes up the compelling 2/3 remaining of the book. It definitely messes with the idea of victim and aggressor and who fits which definition. The destruction of the city may just be the fortuitous re-start that Sophie needs. A few things come together a little too conveniently, but the story never devolved into that annoying formulaic result, in part because Sophie is such a well-written character, and the author has a knack for keeping information just out of reach, and keeping an ominous cloud just overhead.

[vintagebeckie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

My book club chose The Nature of Fragile Things by Susan Meissner as our April selection. This twisting novel full of secrets and deceptions features a point in time that triggers all things hidden to come to light. The San Francisco earthquake of 1906 was a devastating natural disaster that is hard to wrap a mind around. The setting had to be daunting — the details that needed to be searched through and chosen to best depict the magnitude of the event. Meissner did a great job of putting the reader in the middle of the terror of the first moments and the determination needed to survive and rebuild. If the novel was just about the earthquake, Meissner would have done a creditable job. However, she weaves a story of three very different women brought together in unbelievable circumstances. And I’m, not talking about the earthquake. The first person, present tense narrator ( which is done extremely well) is Sophie Whalen, a recent immigrant from Ireland who comes to California for a new start. She seems to get everything she dreamed of until the night before the quake. As one of our members said, the book gets exciting from that point! I don’t want to share any spoilers — the book is rich in surprises you don’t see coming — so I’ll just say that the tangled stories of the three women kept me furiously turning the pages. There are themes of female friendships, mother love, and incomplete justice. I can’t recommend this book enough! Enjoy the historical context, the intertwining mystery, and the thought-provoking storyline. I look forward to our discussion of this book — it will definitely make for a great conversation.

Highly Recommended.

Great for Book Clubs.

Audience: Adults.

(I purchased the ebook from Amazon. All opinions expressed are mine alone.)

[booklover1801 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

In 1903, nineteen-year-old Sophie Whalen arrives in America and for nearly two years lives in Lower Manhattan in filthy and overcrowded conditions. In 1905, she answers a newspaper advertisement for a mail-order bride. When the arrangements are finalized, she moves to San Francisco and marries a man she has never met, Martin Hocking, the father of a five-year-old girl named Kat. In some ways, Sophie has bettered herself, since she now has decent food to eat, a nice bed in which to sleep, money for new clothing and, best of all, a child to care for. In other ways, however, she has jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Martin is aloof and enigmatic, Kat barely speaks a word, and on April 18, 1906, an earthquake levels a substantial portion of the city.

Susan Meissner's "The Nature of Fragile Things" is an engrossing and well-researched novel that is cleverly constructed and evocatively narrated by Sophie, a sensitive and courageous heroine. In her native Ireland, she had been emotionally and physically scarred by a series of tragic events. Therefore, she is wiser in the ways of the world than most individuals her age. However, her past experiences did not fully prepare her for life with a deceitful husband.

The complex plot involves secrets that are hidden and later revealed. In addition to riveting scenes of intrigue and suspense, Meissner effectively underscores the vulnerability of lower-class females in the early twentieth century. It is heartwarming to observe women in distress making sacrifices for one another during tough times. The dialogue rings true, and the author's evocative descriptive passages add to the book's power. It is a pleasure to root for the good-hearted and resilient Sophie who, despite having endured so much heartache, retains her ability to love. This imaginative and poignant tale will resonate with fans of beleaguered but stalwart heroines who, after being brought down by circumstances not of their own making, pick themselves up and continue to pursue their dreams.

[jillhannah-910468 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is such a wonderful story of a woman (Sophie) who has been dealt a handful of tragedies in life, yet continues to do all she can for a better life.
When she answers the call for a mail-order bride of sorts, it pulls her out of a destitute situation and into a beautiful home where she wants for nothing, other than love from her new husband.
Sophie becomes endeared to his young, quiet daughter, and they form a bond. The author paints realistic characters and settings, dropping the reader into San Francisco in 1906, and the tragic earthquake. It's just one of the many obstacles Sophie must work through to hang on to the family she's come to love, and the family that's created from deceit by her husband.
I loved learning more about the famous earthquake and enjoyed the journey of Sophie's fight and perseverance to create a new life for herself and those she loves.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this great historical read!

[maydacat_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Sophie is a young Irish immigrant, eager to get out of New York. She answers an ad for a mail order bride, and moves to San Francisco to become the wife of a widower, Martin, and the mother to his young child. There is no love or even affection between husband and wife, but Sophie soon comes to love the child, Kat. One evening, while Martin is away on a business trip, a woman shows up, seeking information about her husband, who was doing a favor for Martin. A chance look around Sophie’s house is the beginning of a startling chain of events that will tie these two women together, and lead them to a third woman, unknown to either of them. In the midst of this personal turmoil, an even bigger disaster is about to happen: the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. This complex and well executed novel is a gripping account of the disaster superimposed over the heart wrenching deceit that was forced on these women. The characters come to life on the page, living in a real disaster as they cope with their shattered lives. The novel illustrates that true friendships can be born out of adversity, and that love can be the catalyst behind acts of bravery. And not all acts of bravery would stand up in a court of law. This well written novel is highly recommended

[bookofsecrets · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

THE NATURE OF FRAGILE THINGS is a wonderful and absorbing story of survival, friendship, and motherhood. Set during the time of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, this work of historical fiction weaves together a bit of mystery and an emotional family drama with characters I won’t soon forget.

Sophie is an Irish immigrant who answers a mail-order bride ad placed by a man in San Francisco. It seems like widower Martin Hocking can provide her with the life she craves — a comfortable home far away from the slums in New York City, and a child to raise named Kat, the young daughter of Martin and his deceased wife.

Sophie’s relationship with her new husband is odd, and sometimes his behavior is unusual, but she has security and a family, and that’s what matters. That is, until a very pregnant woman named Belinda shows up at her house the night before the great earthquake. The lives Sophie, Kat, and Belinda have known are about to come crashing down figuratively & literally!

I won’t go further into the plot, but just know that if you’re a fan of 20th century historical fiction, I highly recommend THE NATURE OF FRAGILE THINGS. Susan Meissner is a gifted story teller who creates complicated characters readers will understand and enjoy. — ?????

“It is the nature of the earth to shift. It is the nature of fragile things to break. It is the nature of fire to burn.”

Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[kristelh_15 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Reason Read: read for LHBC
This is second book by the author that I have read. She writes historical fiction and this is set in San Francisco during the earthquake of 1906 and involves the lives of four females; 3 adult women and one child and portrays "friendship, mother love and power of female solidarity". I rate it a B-.

[janismack · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I liked this book. The main character was endearing and the setting of the San Francisco earthquake made the whole story interesting. Recommended.

[cassprout · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent story! A wonderful telling of the big earthquake in San Francisco but mostly a delightful read. Finally, a main female character who is not weak despite living in a time when women were still second-class citizens.

[castlelass · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Protagonist Sophie, an Irish immigrant, is living in the slums of New York in 1905 when she answers an ad for a mail order bride, which requires moving to California. Recent widower Martin Hocking tells her he wants a wife to take care of his five-year-old daughter and to keep up his image for work. During the early part of their marriage, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake hits.

The plot of this book revolves around a number of mysteries. Martin may not be what he seems. Sophie is harboring her own secrets. A pregnant woman appears at Sophie’s door, creating more questions. We know from the early chapters that a US Marshall is interviewing Sophie about her husband.

For me, the star of the book is five-year-old Kat. She is traumatized by the death of her mother. When Sophie arrives, Kat will not speak, but Sophie gradually earns her confidence. I also enjoyed the depiction of female friendships. The portions on the earthquake seem historically accurate. The epilogue ties everything up a bit too neatly. I could have done without it, especially since it contains a major anachronism. The undercurrent of tension is well done, but the author seems to be trying to pack too much into a single book.

3.5

[eliz12_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I don't understand the raves for this. I gave it two stars because the beginning was interesting enough. But I could hardly drag myself through the remaining 3/4 of the story and I started skimming, and even that was almost more than I could take. (I felt I had to do this because an acquaintance gave it terrific reviews.) Really not for me.

[maryreinert · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Sophie is an immigrant girl from Ireland living in a filthy New York tenement when she answers an ad from a man in San Francisco looking for a wife to be a mother to his young daughter. She travels across the continent and is married immediately to Martin who treats her with respect but is very distant to her and to young Kat. The house, however, is lovely, and she is well provided for. Kat, who has not spoken for a long time, slowly warms up to Sophie and Sophie begins to think of her as her child.

When a pregnant woman shows up at her door, she learns that Martin has another wife and that Candice, the mother of Kat, is not dead as she has been told. Martin returns to the house just when the San Francisco earthquake occurs.

The earthquake provides much of the setting for the rest of the story as Sophie, Brenda (who gives birth), and Kat maneuver the earthquake and finally manage to get to a neighboring town where Brenda is running an inn.

During all this Sophie is also hiding a secret from her time in Ireland which isn't revealed until the very end. All in all the plot is very believable and the characters are likeable; the bond of female friendship is beautifully drawn. Good read.

[tsmom1219 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The story was predictable, the characters were flat, and the writing style wasn't my favorite. I did a lot of skimming.

[okies-600424 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a riveting story, and as an historical thriller, moves along nicely, But I felt I didn't learn enough about the lead characters - Sophie and Martin. How did Sophie become so brave and independent? to take charge of the post earthquake calamity, the discovery of Martin's duplicity, and to try to make right Martin's wrongs. Were Martin's dastardly deeds motivated simply by greed? or was he a sociopath? I didn't get close to knowing.

I have always been interested in that San Francisco earthquake and it is so fascinating to have it brought to life by doing San Francisco's famous free walking tours. Several of them touch on the event, and there is one completely on the earthquake.

And can't remember the name of the book, but I have read another novel that gave a lot more details about the earthquake - I think it was a popular book, so someone might remember the name?

I haven't read or heard of Susan Meissner before, but will read more.

[jacsun · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I didn't know what to expect from this book but heard good reviews. Once I picked it up, I couldn't put it down.

It's about a woman, Sophie, who crosses the Atlantic from Northern Ireland to start a new life in New York in the early 1900s with her brother, Mason. He meets a woman, moves to Canada and she is now alone and miserable.

Sophie is desperate for a better life and finds an ad from a man in San Francisco seeking to marry a woman to help raise his five-year-old daughter, Kat. He appears almost too perfect: handsome, successful as a traveling salesman, beautiful home in the downtown area and owner of a car. He lets her spend money on clothes, toys for their daughter and basically anything she needs. Life seems to be pretty darn perfect until she discovers that the man she has just married has a questionable past. Can she accept it and look the other way?

The author cleverly writes a plot that moves quickly that includes the San Francisco earthquake on April 18, 1906 with a grueling outlook. It is so vivid in my mind and makes me fear for what could happen again. There are plenty of hints of a marriage with misgivings but only when you get to end, the questions are answered.

It's on my list of favorites.

[dianekeenoy · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very well done historical fiction about the fates of three women during the earthquake of 1906 in San Francisco.

[nyiper · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I can't believe this the first book I have read by Meissner! I have so many more to look forward to now. What a fascinating tale so creatively tied into the California earthquake of 1906---so much history mixed in with a story that kept uncovering more and more layers! Truly, I read for hours and finished it in record time....very hard to put down!!!!

[gbelik_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A great story, set well in its historical moment.

[pdebolt_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In this historically interesting and intriguing novel set in 1905, Sophie Whalen is an Irish immigrant living in NYC in a crowded tenement when she reads about a widowed man with a small daughter wanting to marry a woman to provide a home for them in San Francisco. She sees a way out of her dreary existence, and immediately responds. When she arrives in San Francisco, they are immediately married and she then meets his daughter, Kat, and they all move into a nicely-appointed home. Martin Hocking is a traveling man with abundant secrets. By the time these secrets are exposed, Sophie is completely devoted to 5-year old Kat, who has selective mutism.

In 1906, the San Francisco earthquake devastates the entire city, and ends Sophie's life as she knew it. She leaves behind her home that contains a lethal secret, but takes with her documents incriminating Martin, along with her beloved Kat and another woman who fell under Martin's spell in his involved schemes to profit. The depth of deceptions by Martin Hocking are numerous and far-reaching. Sophie also has secrets of her own, which propelled her into a marriage of convenience. This novel contains actual events of the horrific earthquake and its aftermath in San Francisco.

[lisa2013_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I love that I started this book on 4/18/21 since that is the 115 year anniversary of the 1906 San Francisco great quake and fire and that event is part of this book’s story.

I loved the writing style.

It was a page-turner for me and hard to put down.

I loved the narrator/new wife & mother character and the character of the little girl Kat. I loved or (appropriately detested) many other characters.

This one surprised me. In went in an unexpected direction. I’m glad I knew as little as I did when I started the book. I loved the twists and turns from first page to last page.

There was a bit too much hinting of the mystery of Sophie’s background though I think that much of it is easily guessed.

I appreciated that in the author’s note and discussion questions at the end of the book she reveals that there will be major spoilers and suggests that the reader read the book first.

Great historical fiction story and San Francisco story. Good story about motherhood, friendships, friends as family, lives reinvented, and survival. I loved it.

4-1/2 stars

I simultaneously read a Kindle e-edition book and Overdrive audiobook both borrowed from the library.

[wagner5sarah35 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The life of Sophie, an Irish mail order bride, is upended by the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Before the earthquake, Sophie is married to a secretive man and is the adoptive mother of a silent young girl. After, she starts to unravel the lies her husband told and discovers her marriage was never what she thought. This tale is fascinating, heartfelt, and deeply rooted in the history of the 1906 earthquake. It makes for a good escape and I loved the focus on female relationships and friendships rather than romance.

[beckyhaase · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

THE NATURE OF FRAGILE THINGS by Susan Meissner
The devastating San Francisco Earthquake is the backdrop for this tale of marriage, lies, love, desperation, hope, secrets, murder, and justice. Sophie, an Irish immigrant with secrets, answers an advertisement for a mail order bride and becomes mother to a silent 5-year-old as well as wife to a man who becomes more secretive each day.
The aftermath of the earthquake upends Sophie’s materially satisfying, though lonely and confusing, life. As her home is destroyed, she finds out one of her husband’s secrets. Sophie and Kat try to make a new life amid loss, fear, and more secrets.
Meissner’s ability to combine great research with actual events and wonderful characters into a thrilling tale reveals a devious and intriguing plot that is satisfying resolved. Lots here for a lively book group discussion.
5 of 5 stars

[khoyt-43756 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Once again Susan Meissner has written another heart-wrenching, heart-stopping historical novel that has managed to truly depict the events of the day, in this case, the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Through her marvelous characters who wrap you up in their situations and emotions, her remarkable descriptions of this tragic event, and the unexpected finale, Ms. Meissner puts one in that fateful time and place walking over the rubble and seeing the sights as they must have been experienced by the sufferers of the devastation. The story she folds into the mix is original as well as inventive. After reading one of her novels, I am always searching for words to express what I am feeling. However, I always come up short. I guess that is why she is the writer and I am the reader!

[bookczuk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Pandemic read. Online book club read set during the era of the 1906 earthquake. We are not always what we seem.

[jetangen4571 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

historical-novel, historical-places-events, historical-research, historical-setting, early-20th-century, family-dynamics, friendship, loss, love, Ireland, California*****

She came from Ireland to New York to get away, then went to San Francisco to get away, then left 'Frisco to get away. Along the way she acquired a mail order husband, a lovely but emotionally scarred step-daughter, and some very interesting friends. And the professional attention of a US Marshall. The characters are impressively portrayed and the descriptives are awesome. But the flow and emotional impact of the story is what will remain. Already bought the audio.
I requested and received a free temporary ebook copy from Berkley Publishing Group via NetGalley. Thank you!

[fredreeca · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Sophie has become a mail order bride. She could not take the tenements in NYC anymore. So, she answers the ad and moves to San Francisco. She meets and marries her new husband, Martin Hocking. He is a handsome man but he is very aloof. However, he has the sweetest little girl named Kat. Sophie begins to be very attached to Kat and when her relationship with this little girl is threatened, Sophie stops at nothing to protect her.

Sophie is a strong woman fallen on hard times. She takes a risk to change her stars. Little does she know that her husband is not who he says he is. She finds this out right before the earthquake changes her and Kat’s life.

Wow! This is a super good read. It is twisted, heartbreaking and intense all at the same time. I adored Sophie. She is a lady of integrity and strength. This is proven time and time again during this read.

This is a story you will not stop once you start. It is captivating and powerful! Grab your copy today!

I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.

[bettytaylor56 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

“It’s the nature of fragile things to break.” Three women, one child, one man. Who among them is fragile? Who will stand strong as the earth shifts at their feet? Uncovered secrets will destroy some, but others will emerge stronger than before the quake. Suspenseful, heartbreaking, perfectly paced, this story of strong female friendships, a mother’s love, and resilience will grab you and not let go until the shocking ending.

Susan Meissner takes us to the April 1906 earthquake that destroyed much of San Francisco. Sophie Hocking is devastated as she learns of the complexities of the lies from the man she married. Three women will find their lives suddenly intertwined. And Sophie has her own secrets that she prays will never be revealed.

Having spent a lot of time in San Francisco, I enjoyed the visit back to one of my favorite cities. My heart broke as little Kat had to deal with too much loss for a young child. I was so happy as Sophie began breaking through Kat’s silence, but then my breath was taken away as I realized that Kat could lose Sophie. This book evoked so many emotions in me, that it left me emotionally spent.

[kris_anderson-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Nature of Fragile Things by Susan Meissner transports readers to San Francisco, California in 1905 where Sophie Whalen has agreed to marry Martin Hocking. Sophie was living in New York after immigrating from Ireland when she saw Martin’s advertisement for a bride and mother for his daughter, Kat. They marry the day Sophie arrives in San Francisco, and she quickly adjusts to her new role. Martin travels for work leaving Kat and Sophie alone. One April evening, Sophie is surprised by the visitor. This woman sets in motion a chain of events that will change their lives and that of another woman with a connection to them. The next morning a devastating earthquake hits the San Francisco area forcing the women to flee. The Nature of Fragile Things is a well-written and crafted historical novel. The authors descriptive writings captured the time-period and events. She really captured the earthquake and its devastation with her word imagery. I could visualize the scenes and what our characters were experiencing. I could tell that Susan Meissner did her research for this book. The characters were developed and at the heart of the story. It was fascinating how it all tied together with the amazing “oh my goodness” moment near the end. I especially appreciated the epilogue that nicely wrapped up this fascinating tale. I do not want to say too much and ruin this captivating story for you. I have read all of Susan Meissner’s novels and I found this one better yet different from her other books (such as Lady in Waiting). The Nature of Fragile Things has secrets, love, lies, loss, friendships, betrayal, a mother’s love, and justice. Now we must wait another year for Susan Meissner’s next novel (sigh).