Promise of Tomorrow (11 page)

Twenty

The long ride up from Johnstown had accomplished a diversion, though he couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about or getting on and off the train. He recalled the crash of the raging Little Conemaugh River that followed the trail fourteen miles up from Johnstown to the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. When he disembarked in South Fork and found a horse, he rode straight up to the dam.

Frank's words had spooked him. All the talk of the dam breaking. Yet it looked firm and solid and unyielding to him as he sat astride the horse. He spent an hour riding by the spillway stream and remembering the picnic he and Alaina had taken beside the beautiful fall of water. And at the crest of the dam, where the water lay a mere four feet from the top, he recalled the proposal. The sun in her hair. The smile that lifted his spirits and set his heart into a gallop.

Every memory they'd shared seemed to rip at him until he felt heavy and realized the light was fading from the sky. He finally kicked the horse into a gallop and took the short trip back down to South Fork.

There he had the horse looked after and crossed to a small restaurant, where he ordered the special and listened to the people talk about the rain. As he speared a chunk of roast and lifted it to his lips, he knew he needed rest and wondered if he would be able to sleep at all. He stared down at his nearly full plate and felt the food he had eaten ball up in his stomach. He pushed the plate away and scrubbed a hand over his hair and down his neck.

An older man entered the restaurant and, seeing the vacant chair across from Jack, headed straight for it. Tom Hennesey was a talker who often hauled club members up to the lake, including Alaina, which was how they'd come to know each other. Jack inclined his head as the man straddled the chair, then laid a hand on the seat and pulled it closer to the table. “Hear Johnstown's a swimming hole.”

Jack couldn't help but grin at the man's choice of words. “Saw a rowboat going down a street on the west side.”

Tom spit out a laugh. “You'd think old Johnstown would learn a thing or two 'bout being in a floodplain. Guess they liken themselves as ducks. Me, I'm getting myself to higher ground. If any more rain's a-coming, you won't see me swimming for my life. Nope. I'll be standing atop the mountain laughing.”

“You think it's going to break?”

“You know these mountains, son. Thunder gusts happen all the time. And this weather”—he scratched at his chest—“been all over the place this month. Makes my bones weary and worries my mind something fierce.”

Jack pushed his plate in the man's direction. “I'm done if you want to finish off what's there.”

Tom guffawed, one gnarled hand clamping the edge of the dish and pulling it his way. “Don't mind if I do. Shame to see good food go to waste.” His eyes traced over Jack's face from beneath bushy brows. “You so lovesick you can't eat? Heading up to see your girl?”

A knot swelled in Jack's throat. “She's not up there. Her family pulled out early.”

“Seems strange. What you doing up here then?”

Jack's conscience pulled at him. His tongue held the explanation as if the saying of it would somehow dispel his sense of unreality. After all, Alaina could change her mind. He really had meant that the time away would be good for her. For them. But despite his conviction, the thought did little to ease the pain.

Tom stopped chewing and craned his neck, eyes more alert than Jack wanted. Jack scraped his chair back just as Tom handed down his verdict. “You got yourself girl trouble.”

Jack tried to shake off the comment.

But Tom waved him to stay put. “Got a thing or two to tell you about women. Now don't look that way. I ain't spilling anything I shouldn't be. Was married myself once. She died a few years back of the diptheria that swept through here in '79. You'd've been too young to remember much of it. Lot of children died, but got me real shook when my wife came down sick.” Tom's brows beetled, and he tore off a corner of a biscuit and sopped up the juice from the roast before popping it into his mouth. “She was my life.”

Jack edged his seat closer. “You mean your wife?”

“Nope. Said it just like I meant it. She was my life. Took real good care of each other. When she died, I thought I'd 'bout near shrivel up and blow away.” Tom paused long enough to tear off another piece of biscuit.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Tom's head snapped up. “So's you can make good and sure to listen to what it is she's trying to tell you.”

“Trying to tell me. . .?”

“Woman doesn't free a man up unless she's got rock-solid good reason. I've met your girl. She's a good one. Good heart. Gentle. Not hard to see that, even for an old one like me. Reminded me of my Rebecca. That's the kind of woman a man needs most.” Tom paused. It seemed the man was working up to something else.

Already Jack had been surprised by the man's talk. Most men joked and lamented being married, especially as the family grew. One of the reasons Jack wanted so much to be free from poverty before marrying. So many men had struggled to put food on the table, working twelve-hour shifts, six days a week. It wearied him to think of struggling like that the rest of his life.

“What about the kind of man a woman wants?” The words slipped out. Embarrassed by the question, Jack moved to rise.

“Reckon a woman's wants aren't so much different from a man's. Someone to share life with. To love on and be loved by. All the other stuff is just leaves on the tree.”

Pain swelled in Jack's heart as he stared down at the man and allowed the words to sink in. They chipped at him. Could it be that his need to make a comfortable living was more for him than Alaina? She'd told him so often enough. He wondered how it would feel to live with her as husband and wife and struggle as the other men struggled. Jack swiped a hand over his damp hair. “I need to go.”

“Go?” Tom chuckled. “Where you planning on going this time of night? You needing a place to stay, I reckon you can bunk at my place.”

❧

Dear Jack. . .

Those were the only words Alaina had managed to write in the hour since she'd retired to her room. She had escaped after convincing her Aunt Jo that her quietness stemmed from nothing more than exhaustion. Truer words she would never speak.

She cradled her head in the palm of her hand and stared at the paper and those two words. Tomorrow she would begin a tour of the college and look into requirements and tuition needs.

Her aunt had promised, many times, to help along those lines. “Regis left me quite comfortable, and I made a vow to your mother that I would help if you chose to attend. Your being here would be company for me, too. You might even meet some nice young man during your time here.”

If she had suspected her mother and her aunt had been in close communication, that statement assured her of it. She could just imagine her mother's long dissertation to her aunt about Jack's perceived inadequacies.

Alaina squeezed her eyes shut.
I don't want to be here, God. I want to be back in Johnstown. With Jack.

But she knew Jack needed to see her in a different light. Breaking the engagement had been the right thing to do. She felt it deep in her spirit, even if the shadow in Jack's blue eyes drained her of joy.

How can I cause such hurt yet know I'm right in my decision?

The question brought the story of Christ to her mind. And Abraham and Isaac. Also, the widow who sacrificed not just her life but the life of her only son for a man she didn't know. Of God's sacrifice in watching His only Son suffer and die. Such pain. Beauty for ashes.

Instead of continuing the letter, she slipped the sheet of paper from the surface and crumpled it into a tight ball as a tear splashed onto the surface of the small writing desk.

Twenty-one

May 31, 1889

Jack woke with a rush of anxiousness that left him with a dull headache. A form moved through the shadows. Disoriented, he sprang to his feet.

He heard the strike of a match, and a sudden flare of light brought Tom's face into clear view.

Jack relaxed.

“You hear that?” Tom asked.

That's when he understood why he'd awoken so quickly. “Rain.”

“That's not rain, son. That's the worst mess of water rushing down from the sky that I've ever heard. We just might find ourselves riding down this mountain on a mud slide.” Tom brought the lantern to the table close to the one small window on the front of his house.

Jack narrowed his eyes to see outside, but nothing except the glint of light off a sheet of water met his vision. The deluge sounded like a live thing trying to crush the house flat. “We should check on things,” Jack spat. “Make sure everyone is safe.”

Tom considered a moment and then shook his head. “It's eleven thirty. Decent folk are sound asleep. This might not last long anyhow. You know how quick the storms can be through here.” He lifted the chimney and blew out the light. “Best get some rest. Tomorrow might be a long day.”

Jack lay back down on the hard floor and pulled the thin blanket over his shoulders. Sleep wouldn't come. Instead, his mind labored under the idea of what it would be like to lose Alaina. She might never return. The idea left him hollow and scared, and for the first time, Jack knew no amount of money was worth being alone.

Through the night he lay awake reviewing the string of events, missed dates, broken promises, and Alaina's adamant, “I don't need to be rich,” over and over. And every moment was underscored by Frank's observations of his selfishness and pride. His friend's words bruised him.

He swallowed and rolled to his side, then punched at the rolled-up blanket he used as a pillow. The threadbare blanket encompassed everything he felt about being poor. It made him feel fragile and weak. Vulnerable.

A picture of her smiling face flashed into his mind and froze there.
Alaina.
She would laugh at the prospect of threadbare blankets and a leaky roof. It would become an adventure for her to figure out a way to make things better. Even the small apartment she shared with her mother lacked the dreariness he would expect from someone poor. Perhaps because Alaina and Charlotte took time to make it look cozy and warm.

Jack rolled to his back and blinked up at the thin ceiling, where the sound of rain had grown more vicious. Alaina radiated a peace and contentment he didn't have. It drew him to her and was one of the reasons he felt it so easy to break promises. He knew she would always be there. Loving. Kind. Content.

Well, she's not here now, Jack, old boy
.

While her faith had grown, his had shrunk. Frank was right, though it pained him to admit it. He'd become selfish. In his pursuit of what he wanted, what he thought was best for
them
, he'd tuned out Alaina.

A tug at his conscience shed light on his cluttered thoughts. He'd tuned out God as well. The balancing factor in his life. The One who never failed to show him how to love others first and himself last had faded into the background along with Alaina. No—he squeezed his eyes shut—no, he had shoved them into the background, rejecting them because he thought accepting them meant he would be forced to accept being poor. And humble. And vulnerable.

And because he'd been unable to forgive his father.

“People are more important than things.”

Could he forgive his father his weaknesses? Or would he allow his private bitterness against Don Kelly to destroy him? How could he forgive?

The dark night so many days ago when he'd agonized over his plans and Pastor's sermon, he recalled asking the same question. How could he choose to forgive? Except now he knew the answer. It was simply that: a choice.

He closed his eyes. It would not be easy, but it would be a start.

God, I've been so full of myself
, the prayer began, as he drew in a ragged breath and exhaled his confession.
So full of myself and so scared. . .

❧

“Get up! We gotta get out of here.”

Jack bolted upright at Tom's frantic voice. He stared out the window into gray light. Jack rubbed at his right temple, where a dull ache reminded him of his rough night, but the memory also brought something else, a peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. “What's going on? Is it still raining?”

Tom didn't answer but jabbed a finger at a skillet with a lone pancake. “Grab it and let's go. I wanna know about that dam. Water's running high all up and down South Fork. It must be at the crest of that dam, and I don't want to be anywhere near here when it goes.”

“I'll get the horses.”

“Already got them. Was out this morning and down to Stineman's supply.” Tom finally turned, his eyes tripping over Jack's face. “They was saying how everything was fine. That the dam was going to hold.”

“Who?”

“Boyer and the fella from the club. Beedwell, I think his name was.”

“You don't believe them?”

“All's I'm saying is, this weather isn't helping. Look at the Little Conemaugh. It's a raging beast.” Tom paused and pressed his lips together. “I've seen a lot of things that are unnatural, and I'm not much of a praying man, but I pray God have mercy on me today because if that dam goes. . .”

Tom dashed outside as Jack pulled on his shirt and leapt to follow before Tom left him behind. Their horses splashed up Railroad Street, where a small crowd clustered in front of George Stineman's general store.

“That's that Parke fella,” Jack heard Tom mumble. “If he's here, things must be bad.”

Before he could ask who the “Parke” fella was, Tom kicked his horse and took off up Lake Street toward the dam. Jack matched the pace but eased his horse some when he saw just how badly the road to South Fork had deteriorated because of the rain.

The road forked, and Tom swerved to the right where the trees parted. When the old man pulled his horse up tight, the animal almost sat down in the road. Jack came abreast of the slack-jawed man. He snapped his head to follow Tom's line of vision and felt dread shoot down his spine. A bunch of men, looking small from the distance, raced along the breast of the dam, seemingly at the command of a man on horseback.

“They're trying to raise the height of the dam.” Tom's words came hard and fast. “There's no way they'll have time. No way.”

Jack didn't wait to hear more. He nudged his horse hard toward the breast of the dam, shocked when he saw that the water was nearly level with the road.

Tom came up beside him and reached out his hand to grab the bridle of Jack's horse. “Don't go out there. It's too dangerous.”

❧

“Your heart isn't here, is it, dear?”

Alaina realized she'd been staring at the food on her plate, lulled into silence by her aunt's continuous chatter. “I'm sorry, Auntie. I guess I'm not that hungry after all.”

“I expect this has to do with that boy your mother is so desperate to get you away from.”

Alaina gasped. “She told you about Jack?”

“Of course. Charlotte tells me a great many of her fears. It's what sisters do, you know. Oh, for a while she never told me anything, mostly when I was married to Regis, but I believe that was because she was embarrassed. She felt that I was far above her socially. How absurd is that? It's not as if I'm better than her at all. She's my sister and I love her, but she loved your father. His silence has hurt her very badly.”

Alaina opened her mouth but could think of nothing to say.

“Your mother simply doesn't want to see you hurt like she was hurt.”

“Yes, I know. She told me about refusing to go West. Why didn't she go, Auntie?”

“Why, indeed. She's stubborn. Would rather nurse her wound to him than acknowledge the wound she inflicted.” Her aunt shoved her plate back. “Now I want to hear about this Jack fellow from you.”

“I—” Alaina gulped and locked her hands together under the table. “Jack wants what's best for us.” She expected her aunt to charge into the conversation to dispute that, but she remained silent. “He works for Cambria Iron but has a great mind for inventing. He keeps trying to come up with a better way to make iron into steel, but his ideas haven't worked so far.”

Her aunt nodded. “He is a decent sort?”

“He's a very hard worker.”

“Alaina”—her aunt's gaze became direct—“why do I sense a hesitancy in you regarding this young man?”

The young maid appeared to refill Alaina's juice glass. She crossed to fill Aunt Jo's glass as well.

“Thank you, Tia,” Aunt Jo said.

“My pleasure, ma'am.”

Aunt Jo sipped her juice and relaxed back in her chair. “I fear being alone has relaxed my manners. I'm not nearly so strict as other ladies, but then I don't really care to be.” She gave the young maid a kind smile that Tia returned before disappearing. “She wants to go to the college.”

Alaina tilted her head. “Tia?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “I agreed to pay her twice what other maids earn if she would promise to save half for the first year of tuition.”

Warmth for her aunt's kindness flooded through Alaina. How different her mother seemed from her Aunt Jo. But the thought shamed her when she remembered her mother's surprise and fingered the excellent material of her stylish new dress.

“Now, your young man. Your mother seems to worry ever so much about your marrying him. Too much, in my mind, but then I never had children to worry and fret over, so I'm sure I don't understand.”

Alaina ordered her thoughts before she spoke, relieved when her aunt didn't press her to hurry or distract her with more questions. She took a bite of the now-cold pancakes and a long swallow of the orange juice. “Jack is handsome and fun.” Her heart swelled at the thought of his antics, and she pressed the napkin to her lips to cover the smile.

“No need to go all prim and proper. I've been in love, too, and well know the giggling foolery of a smitten woman. Regis was a trickster, he was, and he made me laugh on many occasions when I would have cried. That is a priceless attribute.”

“Yes.” Alaina nodded. “He loves children and. . .and. . .” Words suddenly failed her, and she stared down at the congealed food on her plate.

“Then why are you here?”

Aunt Jo's soft question beckoned forth the only answer Alaina could give. “Because Momma wanted me to come so badly.”

“My sister is blind to your needs. In her effort to protect you, she is unable to see your love for this young man.”

“There is more to it, though, Aunt Jo. Sometimes Jack. . .forgets me.”

“Excuse me?”

Alaina put some steel in her voice. “I said, sometimes he forgets me.”

“I thought that's what I heard you say. But please, forgets you how?”

She explained about the missed dates and watched her aunt's expression for signs of disgust or outrage, as she often saw on her mother's face.

“It seems to me you have a young man who is hardworking and diligent. Not bad traits at all. But”—Aunt Jo let the silence grow—“I think there are some things he needs to realize. To start off, he needs to see what a treasure he has in you, that it's not in the hope of getting rich.”

“How will he see that?”

Aunt Jo's smile grew slowly. “That, my dear, is something the Good Lord will have to impress upon him. If the two of you are meant to be together, then nothing can separate you.”