Promise of Tomorrow

by Moore, S. Dionne

  “You’re here for the children?” She neither opened the door in invitation nor slammed it in his face.

  He exhaled. “I thought Alaina might walk with me for a bit.”

  Charlotte stared back over her shoulder, then retreated enough for him to see Alaina crossing the room as she worked to untie her apron. He didn’t miss the warning glance Alaina gave her mother. For her part, Mrs. Morrison seemed resigned, more than angered, by Jack’s arrival.

  “I’ll ready the children and meet you outside,” Alaina directed him. She yanked the apron over her head and brushed back a few tendrils of hair that had pulled loose.

  He retreated a step and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  It only took a few minutes before she appeared with the children. She had changed from her work dress into her best blue, worn patches evident around the elbows and cuffs. How he wanted to purchase an entire new wardrobe for her for a wedding gift. Alaina’s eyes would shine with excitement and delight over the materials. She could have all the ruffles and frills, bustles and trains she wanted.

  The children ran straight to the maple tree and began to give chase. When Alaina came level with him on the last step, he captured her hand in his. The coolness of her skin sent a spark of awareness through him.

  “I have good news. I turned in the papers to Mr. Fulton today.”

  They turned when Missy squealed. Sam jumped out at his sister again, and Missy screamed with fright.

  Alaina laughed, her eyes on the children, but Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. When she caught his gaze, something flared in the depths of her burgundy-brown eyes. “They’re as happy to play as I am to hear your good news. We can set a date.”

  “Mr. Fulton said I should know by the end of the month, and I’m sure the announcement about the promotion will be soon. We’ll set a date after I know more. We’ll be financially secure.”

  The spark in her eyes lost its luster. “Of course. We’ll wait.”

  Jack released a frustrated breath at the flat tone in her voice.

  Missy chose that moment to barrel into Alaina. The child pressed her face into the folds of Alaina’s skirts. Missy remained there only a few seconds before beckoned by her brother to play chase again.

  Alaina watched the children circle the maple. “I think Mother is actually enjoying their presence,” she murmured. “You should have seen the way she carried on with them before you arrived.”

  “Perhaps grandchildren will endear her to me if nothing else will.” Jack tried to keep his tone light.

  Alaina gasped and glanced at him, then away. Fire flamed in her cheeks.

  Maybe he was playing the fool thinking he could wait to marry Alaina. She often said how content she would be to be poor. . . . But when his mind skittered to the leaky roof and mice in his sad shack to his mother’s final days, surrounded by dirt and filth and wearing rags, he knew he would have to bide his time. He lifted his face to the sun and tried to reabsorb the lightheartedness he’d felt upon arrival. “Why don’t we go for a picnic in the mountains?”

  “A picnic?” Missy, closest to them, stopped so fast she slipped on the rain-soaked grass.

  Sam stooped to help her up. “A picnic?” But his expression was anxious.

  Jack didn’t understand Sam’s reaction and lifted an eyebrow at Alaina.

  Alaina held his gaze. “Isn’t there somewhere else we should go?”

  He caught the direction of her thoughts and gave Sam’s hair a tousle. “Sure. We’ll eat, and then we’ll go by and see your papa. How’s that sound?”

  But Sam didn’t respond. He stared off into the distance. Missy drew closer to her brother.

  “I think we should save the picnic for later,” Alaina suggested. They’re worried, she mouthed to him.

  Jack acquiesced. “To the hospital then.”

  ❧

  When they arrived, they were told Frank was sleeping and they could not visit. A nurse did tell Jack that Frank’s fever had broken. A good sign, she had assured them.

  Missy and Sam sagged in disappointment at not being able to see their father.

  Alaina hoped the picnic would put a sparkle back into their eyes.

  Jack, seeming to sense the importance of diverting Missy and Sam’s attention, grabbed their hands and began chattering about visiting the grocer to buy candy. “But first. . .” Jack’s hand snaked out and tousled Sam’s hair. He withdrew and, quick as a wink, lunged back into a boxer’s crouch, hands fisted.

  The boy responded to the fun immediately and let out a flailing, sloppy right hook that Jack easily blocked.

  Alaina watched the fun with amusement.

  Missy rolled her eyes and planted her little hands on nonexistent hips. “I’m hungry.”

  Jack dove in toward Sam and caught the boy around his waist. He raised the boy over his shoulder and winked at Alaina. “Well, now that Sam is out of the way, I guess there’ll be more for us to eat. Right, Missy?”

  Sam squawked and began to kick his feet in protest.

  Jack laughed and let the boy slide to the ground.

  Nothing could hide the shine of joy in Sam’s eyes, and Alaina was reminded, again, how much she loved Jack’s fun side. If only she could lift the burden of his need for the promotion or to make the invention that would line his pockets with the money he so desperately wanted to lavish on her. No matter how many times she stated her contentment, it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  Alaina combed her fingers through Sam’s mussed hair, but the boy grimaced and pulled back.

  “Best let her spiff you up, Sam. Women like to do that sort of thing.”

  Alaina cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” She let her gaze slide over Jack’s hair. A sudden longing to straighten the lock flopped on his forehead brought immediate heat to her cheeks.

  He noticed. “Do I need spiffing?”

  She raised her chin. “I’m sure you do, but I’ll not be the one doing it.”

  Jack leaned in close to her ear. “A shame. I’ll make sure not to be spiffed when we marry. Then you can spend the day getting me straightened out.”

  She gasped and felt the receding heat of her previous blush flare back full force. But she couldn’t quite quell the tingle of excitement his outrageous comment stirred. To be his wife. Her heart raced with the thrill of it.

  Her gaze caught his and held. She felt herself wrapped in the warmth of his blue eyes. A small smile crooked the corners of his mouth. His hand closed over her forearm and slipped down to cradle hers. When he lowered his head a fraction, she tilted her head back even more. The touch of his lips brought a sigh to her throat.

  “Yuck!”

  Alaina’s eyes flew open.

  Jack’s face, so close to hers, split into a huge grin, and he turned toward a disgruntled Sam. “Oh yes, little man, you should try it sometime,” Jack admonished Sam with a playful swipe at the boy’s shoulder.

  “When you’re much older,” Alaina added, sending a warning look at Jack.

  Jack’s head jerked back, and he released a stream of hearty laughter.

  Alaina stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “Jack Kelly, you’re incorrigible.”

  He brushed the hair from his forehead and shrugged. “Got to teach him what courting a beautiful woman is all about.”

  Missy pulled on Jack’s free hand. “Momma used to do that to Papa. It makes me miss her.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you sad, Missy.” He squinted up at the sky. “Why don’t we get to picnicking before it rains again?”

  Fifteen

  Taking Alaina out always filled Jack with great satisfaction. They visited the grocer, and he dipped into his hoarded fund of coins to purchase candy for the children and apples, cheese, and a bit of bread for everyone.

  He watched how Alaina interacted with others they met along the walk to the hill, both strangers and friends, and never failed to find himself endeared to her all the more for her kindness and gentleness of spirit. He found himself wondering how
Charlotte Morrison could raise a child with a temperament so contrary to her own. But he knew life’s disappointments had dealt a blow to Charlotte that had shaped the person she’d become. Frank had been right. He must keep that in mind, though sometimes it was hard. Even harder to comprehend was the idea that Alaina might suffer a disappointment because of him. End up poor and miserable. He clenched his jaw. Not if he could help it.

  When they settled the blanket on the ground, she spread out the meager meal, and Jack felt hot shame. There should be more food. More candy for the children. Alaina should have better clothes. . . .

  She sent him a questioning look from her place next to young Missy, and Jack felt the sudden pressure of time being wasted. Perhaps he should go over his notes again. Though he’d turned his theory over to Mr. Fulton, he couldn’t keep at bay the nagging fear that he’d forgotten something. By the slant of the sun, he knew he had little time left in the day to review his plans before his shift started. He swept to his feet, threw his apple core far out into the tall grass, and stretched.

  Missy helped Alaina gather the remaining scraps of bread. She showed Missy how to tear the pieces into smaller bits and then scatter them for the birds. The child watched in wide-eyed wonder as a single cardinal floated down and hopped closer and closer, his bright little eyes on a good-sized crumb.

  Jack couldn’t help but smile at the child’s delight.

  Alaina sidled close and whispered, “I’m worried about Sam.”

  The boy was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d he go?” Jack asked.

  She pointed to the edge of the woods, where Jack caught a glimpse of Sam’s dark head among a thicket of tall grass. “I think he’s worried about his father.”

  Jack rubbed his forehead. He could well understand the boy’s concern and felt the claw of doubt scratch at his own mind when he considered Frank’s condition. “I’ll go talk to him, but I have to get back to town.” He caught Alaina’s gaze. “I can’t stop this feeling that I overlooked something in my notes.”

  He held his breath, hoping for her understanding. A sharp chill shot through him when Alaina, instead, turned away, back ramrod straight. He reached out a hand to turn her toward him but let it drop back to his side when his tongue found no words to console.

  He stepped around her and focused on retrieving Sam, but every footfall fanned the embers of his anger. Why couldn’t she understand? Didn’t his time with her this afternoon show how much he cared? The tender kiss and the smoky look in her eyes had seemed so full of promise for their future. Yet every time he mentioned the project, it seemed to build a wall between them.

  When Jack reached the spot where he’d last seen Sam, he stopped and squinted into the tall grass. The boy sat far away from his original location, feet dangling just above the shorter grass under the fallen log upon which he had perched.

  “Sam? It’s time to go. We’ve got to head back to town.”

  Sam didn’t raise his face, though a curt nod of his head acknowledged he’d heard. He slipped off the log, feet dragging with every step.

  When he got within reach, Jack pulled the boy close. He pressed the back of Sam’s head against his side and swallowed hard over the knot of emotion swelling in his own throat. Under his hand, he felt the first shudder of the boy’s narrow shoulders. He knelt in the tall grass to get eye level with Sam. “You’re afraid for your father?”

  A small, quiet sob shook the boy’s chest. “Will he—” Sam sucked in a shuddering breath. “Will he go away like Momma?”

  How much Jack wished he could give the boy solid reassurance, but he understood the extent of Frank’s injuries and knew the days ahead would play heavily on whether or not Sam’s father would recover. Yet Sam wanted someone to tell him no. To drive away the merciless bats of fear beating their wings against his fragile peace of mind.

  Jack dragged in a deep breath and grasped the boy’s heaving shoulders. “I don’t know, Sam. I do know that your father is badly hurt but that he’s strong and wants to live so he can take care of you and Missy.”

  “He said Momma dying was for the best. Does God think taking him will be for the best, too?”

  Jack’s eyes squeezed shut at the rawness of that question. He pulled Sam into his embrace and spread his hand on the boy’s small back, while the memory of himself as a young boy being embraced by his father after a fall washed over him. Jack swallowed hard and, for the first time, let himself grieve for that part of his father that he’d loved and trusted.

  Sam tugged on his sleeve. “Are you sad about Papa?”

  Jack ran the back of his hand across the wetness on his cheeks. “Yes. Very. He is my friend, Sam. A very good friend.”

  Sixteen

  May 29, 1889

  “Well, Jack-o, guess you’ll have to get used to calling me ‘sir’ now.” Robert Whitfield’s triumphant expression came into sharp focus.

  Jack’s spine stiffened. Rage began a slow boil.

  The promotion.

  After all the grunt work he’d done for Fulton. . .all his plans and hopes dashed.

  “No worries, though.” Robert bared his teeth. “I’ll be a good shift manager. The boss has a lot of confidence in me. More than in others.”

  Jack saw the bait dangled before him. Robert clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder, outwardly looking like a friendly gesture, but Jack felt the unnecessary pressure and schooled his features not to show any pain.

  “I’ll look forward to working as your boss. But I warn you now. . .I don’t tolerate those who don’t do their jobs.”

  Jack clenched his fists, hoping his glare would stab a hole in Robert’s cockiness. His thoughts splintered. How could he tell Alaina the news? He would never be able to afford marriage now. He would be forced to break their engagement. But how could he do that?

  Robert took a step back. “Since I get off before you, I’ll deliver the good news to Alaina. She’ll want to know, right?”

  Jack forced himself not to react as Robert gave his shoulder a pat and sauntered off. He had no doubt the man would be on Alaina’s doorstep within an hour, gloating, and he could do nothing about it.

  He worked fast and hard during his shift. Images of Robert arriving on Alaina’s doorstep haunted him. He picked up his pace and shoveled harder. Faster.

  “You’re gonna kill yourself, Jack.” He heard Frank’s voice in his head.

  Thoughts of his friend’s condition, of his inability to care for his family, helped bring perspective to Jack’s problems. At least he could still earn a wage. He was unharmed and strong, and he could still hope Mr. Fulton found his theory worthy.

  When the greaser came along to oil the machinery, Jack breathed in relief and made his way through the room to the outside. Rain sprinkled down on his face, cooling his body.

  More rain. Little Conemaugh bore none of a resemblance to its name now. It raged and slurped at the banks, barely containing its swelling girth. Jack considered what the constant rain was doing to the South Fork Dam. If the Little Conemaugh roared like this, the streams feeding into Lake Conemaugh would be swollen as well, in turn pushing the lake higher and higher toward the crest of the dam.

  Only a handful of people seemed worried about the structure. Too many years of crying wolf had cauterized most of Johnstown’s population’s ability to see the dam as a real threat.

  But the knowledge he’d gleaned in his research for Mr. Fulton weighed on him. His already exhausted limbs stiffened with fear. God, if that dam goes, we’re all dead.

  Losing Alaina would be devastating, whether losing her to Robert or to floodwaters. He couldn’t let either happen.

  When he opened the door to his room, a thin, steady stream of water cascaded from the roof. He emptied the smaller pot of its store of rainwater and placed a bigger pot underneath the growing hole in the roof.

  What he needed most was a bath. He smiled at the absurdity of taking a bath when all he needed to do was stand outside with a bar of soap to get the job done. But mirth fi
zzled when Robert’s leering grin popped into his head.

  ❧

  “You’d be happier with him.”

  Alaina pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. No matter what she did or said, her mother’s words kept pecking at her love for Jack. Robert’s visit, though short and to the point, hadn’t helped matters, and her mother overhearing Robert’s news that he’d received the promotion instead of Jack only added fuel to her argument.

  “Robert is the kind of man that will do something with his life. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose him to Mary. You can bet she has her eyes on him.”

  “Mary is my friend,” Alaina reminded her mother.

  “Friend or not. . .”

  Alaina felt the tension stretch along her nerves. She knew what her mother’s next attack would be.

  “At least go to Pittsburgh and look the college over. Give yourself some time away from here to clear your head.”

  Alaina let her hands fall to the table. “Meaning, away from Jack.”

  Charlotte’s lips tightened into a firm line, and she squinted harder at the needle poking through the hem of the gown she had been working on all evening. “Away from Jack is not a bad place to be.”

  “Why do you hate Jack so much?” There, she’d asked the question that had nagged at her for so long.

  Charlotte set aside her sewing, her expression stricken. “It’s not that I hate him, Alaina. Jack’s a nice young man. But why can’t you wait a while to marry? Consider going to college. If he wants to marry you, won’t he wait? Doesn’t he want what’s best for you?”

  Missy appeared at Alaina’s elbow, hair mussed and tears welling in her eyes. “Sam pulled my hair.”

  Welcoming the intrusion, Alaina went to where Sam sat on the floor rolling an empty spool back and forth between his hands. She sank to the floor, her skirt billowing out around her, and slipped an arm across Sam’s shoulders. “Why did you pull Missy’s hair?”

  She felt the rise and fall of Sam’s shoulders as he released a sigh. Missy sniffed.

  “Sam?”