Promise of Tomorrow

by Moore, S. Dionne

  “Even when he doesn’t show up to take you out? How many times has he broken promises to you? Ten? Twenty? Seems a terrible foundation on which to build a marriage.”

  She felt his presence as he drew nearer, and she stiffened when he touched her elbow.

  “Why not give me a chance?”

  “Because—” Words died in her mind, and she struggled for a coherent reply. “Robert, please. Leave me alone.”

  “I’d treat you with the respect you deserve.”

  His presence disturbed her less than his words. First Mary, now him, expressing the exact fears she tortured herself with daily.

  “I love you, Alaina.” Robert’s words slipped over her shoulder. “You’ll be much happier with me.”

  She twisted the knob and eased the door open.

  Robert, his words coming fast now, desperate, seemed to struggle for something to sway her.

  “Besides, there’s something about Jack you don’t know.”

  “What would that be, Whitfield?”

  Alaina gasped. Jack stood there, clearly having overheard Robert’s last comment. His scowl smoldered, his blue eyes the color of an angry winter sky. She looked between the two men, afraid of the fire their sparks of anger might ignite.

  Robert ignored Jack and slanted her a look. “I believe I’ll leave that for you to figure out for yourself. I’ve quite apparently worn out my welcome. But please, Alaina, know that you have my deepest sympathy should you choose to marry him.”

  Her gaze flew to Jack’s. She put a hand to his sleeve in silent supplication. Beneath her hand, his muscles relaxed.

  Robert pressed his way forward. Jack moved aside and then followed the man’s path down the steps. Alaina pulled Jack inside. “Your timing is perfect,” she quipped to ease the tension.

  “This time.”

  She saw the stress leave his expression in slow degrees as his eyes roved her face and hair.

  “What did he have to say?”

  “He was interested in finding out about our engagement.” She hesitated, embarrassed to admit her own indiscretion. “Mary apparently told him that you didn’t show up yesterday.”

  The recrimination she expected to see in his eyes didn’t appear. Instead, Jack’s face melted into a look of chagrin. He opened his arms wide. She nestled against him, his breath warm against her hair, the faint smell of lye soap drifting up from his clothes.

  “I telegraphed to South Fork but knew you wouldn’t get the message up here unless you happened to go down with the Hensleys for dinner or something. I’m sorry I didn’t show up.”

  She closed her eyes. “Again.”

  He gave a solemn nod. “Yes. Again. Mr. Fulton called me to his office quite unexpectedly.”

  She brushed coal ash from the train off his sleeve. It smeared and clung. “You have ash all over you.”

  “Um,” he mumbled against her hair.

  Her mind jumped back and forth between her need to apologize and her pique at Jack’s certainty that an apology was always going to be enough. She drew in a deep breath and swallowed, her words flowing on her exhale. “I should apologize as well. As much as I love Mary, she talks too much and tells Robert everything.”

  Jack drew away but held on to her hand. He glanced toward the stairs. “You’re done for the evening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s take a walk before I head back.”

  “What made you take the train?”

  His eyes searched hers. “I knew I needed to get here to make up for yesterday.” His finger traced the ridge of her knuckles. “I wanted to be here.”

  She felt her tension dissipate at his tender touch. “I have good news. The Hensleys are leaving next Wednesday and won’t be back for a month.”

  “A month?”

  “A whole month,” she said. “I can start planning our wedding.”

  Jack blinked, the ghost of a frown pulled on his lips.

  “Jack?”

  “I’ll have to test my new theory. I’m really hoping this time it will work. I could have enough money for us to buy a decent home.”

  “I don’t mind living in Cambria City.”

  “I mind.” He released her hand.

  Alaina watched as he turned his back and crossed to the parlor doorway, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. This core of determination she often felt in his character was the root cause for his driving himself, she was sure. But other than his oft-told story of being raised by a poor mother after his father left them, she never could glimpse the reason why he was so adamant they not live in Cambria City. He might have been raised poor, but so had she. At first she thought Jack’s reasons were based on pride, but Jack never condescended to any of his friends who lived in the small city where employees of Cambria Iron Works rented homes. To remind him she didn’t mind being poor would be wasted words. So she waited.

  He stared into the parlor for several minutes before he returned to her and raised her left hand so their hands touched, palm to palm. His gaze commanded her attention. “I have to do this, Alaina. For me.”

  Five

  Johnstown, May 15, 1889

  Alaina slipped into her mother’s room, drawn by the snuffling snores and the promise of momentary peace her mother’s slumber afforded. Charlotte Morrison slept on her back, hair bundled severely into a long braid. Smoothed by sleep, the etched frown lines could not lend her mother the perpetual sour look.

  She debated whether to waken her mother and announce her presence. Tired from the day and the hustle of packing the Hensleys off, Alaina decided to wait. She had sent word last week that she would be home tonight. Apparently her mother had forgotten. She blinked back the burn of tears that threatened and released a sigh of pent-up frustration. She skimmed her mother’s left hand and saw the slight, unnatural curl of the fingers grown sore from constant needlework.

  Oh, Mother.

  Alaina ran a gentle finger over her mother’s hand and felt the roughness of skin chafed by the yards of material she measured out and sewed every day. “You work so hard,” she whispered. Her mother’s body flinched, and Alaina withdrew from the room on catlike feet and shut the door. She began to rehearse how to best tell her mother the news of her engagement.

  Sleep eluded her. She wished Jack could have seen her home, but his shift at Cambria ended too late. He would stay later than the rest to work on his research and test his latest idea. Alaina raised her head and pounded the pillow. She shuddered and pulled the blanket tighter to her chin. Tears burned behind her eyelids.

  Confusion and doubt returned to further torment her exhausted mind. And, beneath it all, the conviction that Robert would never treat their relationship so lightly. He had pursued her to the extreme, but she often wondered if he did so more to anger Jack than out of affection for her.

  Robert’s face floated through her memory, the way he had watched her as she’d begun to swing open the Hensleys’ front door in an effort to hasten his exit. A knot tightened in her stomach. She pressed her hand there and swallowed against the ill feeling.

  Something else, too. Something he’d said. . .

  Alaina swept back her covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her mind churned to bring to full light what hid in the shadows.

  There’s something about Jack you don’t know. . . .

  That was it! But what had Robert meant?

  Alaina walked to the window. Next door, a fine home made of brick stood bathed in the light of the full moon. Jack often flung his hand in the direction of that house and repeated his promise that he would buy her one someday. “When I’ve made my pile.”

  She shivered when a draft of cold air rushed through the room and forced her to take refuge under her blankets. Finally, sleep came.

  When she next opened her eyes, her mother’s frown greeted her.

  ❧

  “He’s got it out for you, Jack,” Big Frank Mills huffed as he shoveled manganese into the ladle full of iron ore. “Watch yourself.”r />
  Jack sucked air into his tortured lungs and kept shoveling. Lathered in sweat, he gritted his teeth against the oppressive ache in muscles that begged him to stop. His reply never formed on his dry tongue, as the two men strained together to finish the job. Big Frank finally broke the pace. Jack didn’t notice. His arms pumped hard.

  “Easy. That’s enough,” Frank huffed. When Jack stopped, Big Frank passed him a cup of water. “Drink. Then drink again. You’ll collapse in this heat.”

  “Look at you. You’re not even sweating.”

  Frank guffawed and pulled off his thin-soled shoe. Water dripped out in a thin stream. “I reckon I’m all sweated out.”

  Jack leaned on his shovel and tipped the cup. He drained the contents and held it out for a refill. Frank tilted the bucket until Jack’s cup overflowed onto the floor. “What did you mean earlier?”

  Frank swiped his hand across his mouth and then ran his saturated handkerchief across his brow. “Our shift is almost over. You going to stay and experiment?”

  “Not tonight.” Jack let the shovel fall to the floor, relieved to see the greaser moving down the line. “Buddy’s on his way to oil the machinery.”

  “We might as well head home then.” Big Frank tilted the bucket and let the water run down his oversized head and shoulders. His teeth gleamed in the flashes of light from the open-hearth furnaces in front of them. “Next shift will have to fill their own bucket.”

  Jack drained his cup. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  Big Frank lumbered away and gestured for Jack to follow. They emerged into the night air and allowed the breeze to cool their bodies.

  “Who’s got it out for me, Big Frank?”

  Frank swerved his large head in Jack’s direction. “You sure have a nose for trouble.”

  Jack hesitated. He chose his next words carefully. “You’ve probably heard that Alaina and I are engaged.”

  The Scot shook his head and delivered a gut-shaking slap on Jack’s back. “Hadn’t heard. Congratulations.”

  “Robert was the first to know.”

  “He’s after you, boy,” Frank said. “He sure had a hornet chasing him before you got here. Had a couple of the fellas askin’ how it was you could be late and the boss didn’t notice and did they want that in their new shift manager?”

  “He’s jealous.”

  Big Frank’s hand sluiced water from his hair. “Old Mike told Robert to shut his trap and get out.”

  “I was only late by a couple of minutes. I woke up later than I wanted.” A twinge of conscience pinched in Jack’s gut. He should have guessed his tardiness would allow Robert the fodder he needed to make a case against him. “Mike knows Robert’s trouble.”

  Frank’s eyes were grave. “You need to remember something, though. Old Mike is almost done. He’s as good as gone. If Robert can cause a big enough stink among the younger men, Fulton might not consider you for Mike’s job just because the guys don’t like you.” He stroked a hand down his jaw. “I wouldn’t put it past Robert and his cronies to cause an accident to put you out of the way for a while.”

  Accidents, Jack knew, occurred hourly, more toward the end of the twelve-hour shifts than the beginning. Carelessness ran rampant when the men grew weary. If Robert were to go so far as to do such a thing, he would have a lot of opportunities to pull it off.

  Jack’s eyes went to the ragged scar along Big Frank’s forearm. A piece of slag had hit him and burned. The Scot had been lucky he had been a good distance away from the flying slag, or its velocity could have penetrated and killed him.

  “That’s part of the reason I want to make these ideas of mine work. We need a better way of doing this, Frank. Safer. The Bessemer is just the beginning.” He clenched his fist. “I’ll be on my guard for Robert’s tricks.”

  Big Frank’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “And I’ll be praying for you. Why don’t you and Alaina come over for supper one evening? Missy and Sam would love to see you.”

  “I’ll tell her,” he said, though he knew he needed every spare moment to tweak his plans. Success was so close. It seemed to him the shape was the problem. The Bessemer’s oval shape worked so well.

  A flash of inspiration ran through his head as Jack raised his face to the evening sky. Mentally he reviewed the details of the new idea. Excitement coursed through him and renewed his strength. He would put the idea to the test as soon as his shift was over. Alaina wouldn’t be home from South Fork. . . .

  Jack ran a hand over his wet hair when he recalled the Hensleys’ premature departure and Alaina’s expected arrival in Johnstown last evening. His frustration grew. He needed to act on his new design as soon as possible, but Alaina would expect him, too.

  Frank turned to head back inside and Jack followed. “You two going to tell her mama about your engagement?”

  Jack’s step faltered. “Why, yes. Sure. We’ll let everyone know.”

  “Her mama’s not going to be happy.”

  What energy Jack had felt moments before seemed to leak from him. “We’re prepared for that.”

  Frank shouldered his cloth bag, and they left the building’s stifling heat and constant noise. Big Frank chuckled. “You’re not going to believe this, but Mrs. Morrison is a good woman deep down. A parent wants what they think is best for their child, even if they don’t go about it the way they should. Mrs. Morrison’s had her share of hurts, and sometimes you have to look beyond a person’s hurt to see their heart. I’ll be praying for you.”

  Six

  Clumps of oatmeal stuck in Alaina’s throat with every bite. She finally gave up, shoved her bowl back, and pressed her palms together on the scarred wooden kitchen table, determined not to allow her mother’s silence to continue. “Will you need my help today?”

  Her mother appeared startled at her words. “No. I’m all caught up. I was expecting another order from Mrs. Stephens, so I worked ahead.”

  A new silence grew between them. Alaina worked her spoon around the small bowl.

  “It’s good to have you home again,” Charlotte offered.

  Alaina smiled at her mother’s words, knowing that something unpleasant was coming. Her mother never offered loving words without tacking on a controversial issue.

  “Your aunt wants to know when to expect you in Pittsburgh. I wrote back that the end of May is likely. It’s a good time to look the college over.”

  Alaina forced herself not to release the pent-up sigh. Charlotte would take it as a show of anger. “I want to marry Jack, Mama.”

  Her mother’s eyes moved over her face, examining.

  Alaina placed her hands flat on the surface of the table. She braced herself for the flood of arguments her mother would rain down upon her. Jack was too young. She was too young. Jack was flighty and inconsistent. Jack’s job wasn’t good enough. They would struggle financially. And the one that all the others inevitably led up to—she needed to have a sound education before she married, so that if Jack, in his flighty inconsistency, left her alone, she would not live in poverty.

  History repeated.

  “I know how you feel.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over her mother’s graying hair. She softened her voice. “We want your blessing.”

  Charlotte Morrison’s dark eyes glinted. “If you marry him, you won’t have it.”

  Alaina’s stomach clenched. In her mental list, she had forgotten that particular argument. The Robert-is-a-better-choice one. “I can’t love a man I don’t respect.”

  “Then why are you engaged to Jack?”

  The gasp escaped before Alaina could steel herself. “How did you know?”

  “So he did propose. Mary’s mama said as much, but I didn’t want to believe that you wouldn’t tell me first. I knew something was up, though. I haven’t seen Robert as much lately. Poor boy must be working hard to get that promotion.”

  She wanted to point out that Robert came to the apartment to see her, and being that she was in South Fork, it made sense that her mo
ther wouldn’t see him here. But stating such a fact would be foolish and mistook as irreverence. “You think Robert is so perfect, but you don’t know him like I do, Mama.”

  Charlotte stood. Frown lines fanned out from her lips and creased her forehead. “You’re right, I don’t. But if Jack is as wonderful as you think he is, he won’t mind waiting for you to get your education first. And you, being the wonderfully obedient daughter you should be, will listen to your mother.”

  Stung at the verbal assault, Alaina lowered her face and squeezed her eyes shut. “He’s not like Daddy, Mother. Why do you have to compare my situation to yours? I know you work hard. I know we struggle. I’ve tried to help out as much as I can.”

  Her mother snatched up the bowls and set them on the edge of the dry sink. She squeezed behind Alaina to reach for her sewing apron and tied it on. “I don’t have time for this right now. Mrs. Fortney will be in this morning, and I have three dresses that need some finishing touches.” Without even so much as a good-bye, her mother slammed the door. Her steps clumped down the outside staircase that led to the back of the general store they lived above and where her mother worked.

  Alaina surveyed the small apartment. Besides the dirty dishes, table, and dry sink, the room held only a tattered rag rug and an array of the colorful aprons her mother used to cover her clothes as she sewed. She noted the neat rows of pins stuck all along the skirt of the aprons. Every single one had scads of small, snipped threads clinging to the coarse material.

  Two other rooms completed the apartment. Her mother’s room was only as big as the grocer’s pantry downstairs, and Alaina’s room even smaller. But she loved the sunshine that streaked through her window on summer days. She often felt her room the better choice of the two because it had such a luxury. She smiled. And it had a tree. An old oak tree whose branches reached out to scrape the window on windy nights. Or held the weight of a young man who came calling in the night, though Jack hadn’t made use of its thick limbs for many weeks.

  Alaina crossed to the window and lifted the sash. A gusty breeze swept the room clean of the musty air always present in the wooden building during the rainy season. She inhaled deeply, braced her hands on the windowsill, and listened to the church’s clock striking the hour. A layer of dark gray clouds promised more rain to come. Undaunted by the threat of a downpour, Alaina left the window open as she began to make beds and gather laundry.