Promise of Tomorrow

by Moore, S. Dionne

His voice came to her sounding small and scared. “I want my pa.”

  Alaina pulled the boy closer just as Missy burst into tears. The creak of the boards let her know Charlotte was coming to offer some assistance. They shared a look over the little girl’s head. Alaina’s mother touched Missy’s shoulder. The child spun around and flung herself into Charlotte’s arms, rocking the older woman off balance. Regaining her position, Charlotte pulled the child close and stroked her hair.

  Alaina couldn’t deny the children their need to see their father. If Jack showed up on the doorstep in the next few minutes, he could come along, but waiting for him, never knowing if he would forget or not, was not an option with Sam and Missy so obviously upset.

  Alaina stood tall and stabbed a glance out the window. At least the rain had let up. She hated the idea of wading through the water standing in the streets from the constant downpours, but she had no choice. “Missy, Sam, let’s get you bundled up and over to see your father.”

  Missy rubbed at her eyes and straightened in Charlotte’s arms. “Really?”

  Sam jumped to his feet. It was as if a great load had lifted from the boy’s shoulders. “Will Jack come, too?”

  “I don’t know.” Would this be what it was like to be married to Jack? He wouldn’t come home to his family, always placing work above her? She might be able to endure the slights, as she had in the past, but for her to knowingly subject any children they might have together to the same thing seemed irresponsible. Or maybe she wasn’t being fair to him. She hugged herself, not knowing what to think or feel. A shiver quaked through her.

  “Alaina? Are you catching a chill?”

  It had been easy to discount her mother’s worries. Perhaps too easy. Her mother’s expression was pinched with concern. For her.

  “I’m fine, just. . .” She pressed her lips together as they began to form the words she knew would put sunshine on her mother’s face. Words she was afraid to say because it meant part of a dream was dying. She drew in a slow breath. “When we get back, I’ll help you with that dress. Then I’ll cut out a new one—”

  Her voice faltered the slightest bit. She braced herself mentally and met her mother’s direct gaze. “Maybe I can have it done before I make the trip to Pittsburgh.”

  Seventeen

  Something sour churned Jack’s gut at the dark windows and silence that met his many knocks on the door of Alaina’s home. He feared Robert had already arrived to sweep Alaina away to some theater show and dinner, regaling her with stories of his new promotion and—

  Jack heaved a sigh and shook his head. Alaina loved him. He loved her. Still, he had hoped to tell her the news himself, to wrest from her the promise that she would wait and to hear the words he so needed to believe—I love you.

  Instead he turned and slogged his way back through the flooded streets. Water funneled and poured, his already wet shoes becoming saturated. He stopped long enough to stare up at the spire of the Presbyterian church, its stone face cold yet solid.

  With nothing left to do but wander the streets, an idea that did not appeal to him in the least, Jack meandered back toward Cambria City. The evening stretched before him, long and dark. Robert’s face, a smirk on his lips, loomed in Jack’s mind. Taunting.

  When he arrived at his house, he emptied the tin mug of its collection of water and set it back in place. At the small table, he glanced over the notes he’d made while writing his report on the dam and the theory he’d turned in to Fulton. They seemed nothing more than dry, cold facts. Sadness gripped Jack. For all the work he had put into his theory and the report on the dam, in trying to prove himself a good worker to Fulton, success meant nothing if he did not have Alaina by his side.

  ❧

  To Alaina’s way of thinking, Frank looked worse than the previous day. He appeared unfocused and acknowledged the children with wan joy. If Sam and Missy noticed their pa’s decline, they didn’t express their dismay.

  Worry nibbled at the edges of Alaina’s mind. What if Frank didn’t live? She could hardly leave the children in an orphanage. Jack would know Frank’s wishes and whether he had relatives or not, but gazing upon the sweet faces as they clung to their father’s hands, she knew her own heart would struggle at the idea of saying good-bye.

  “When are you coming home?” Missy asked.

  Frank turned his head on the pillow, his face flushed.

  Alaina worried the fever was ravaging his body faster than the wound.

  “They had me up just before you got here, Missy. Wore me out. But I’m gettin’ stronger.”

  His words brought a measure of relief. If he’d walked around, that explained his flushed face and the exhaustion. Alaina caught her mother’s gesture and followed the flick of her hand that indicated a cane leaning against the wall. “What a beautiful cane, Frank. Did you make it?”

  He blinked his eyes, and a slow smile curved his mouth. “One of the fellas carved it for himself when he got in an accident. He gave it to me yesterday before he left.”

  Missy grabbed up the cane and began to swing it around. Charlotte shook her head, and Missy set it back against the wall.

  “You’re feeling stronger then?” Alaina asked.

  “Still have a bit of fever, but doctor says the wounds are healing well.”

  Missy resumed her post next to her father as he admonished them to be good and motioned the children, one by one, to lean in for a kiss.

  Alaina made feeble attempts to converse with the children on the way home. Water in the streets made it necessary for her to carry Missy, while Sam clung to her mother’s hand. The children appeared relieved by their visit and happier in spirit, splashing in puddles and laughing.

  Though they grimaced at having to change out of their wet clothes, Alaina’s promise of something hot to drink motivated them. Charlotte helped Sam peel off his sodden trousers as Alaina knelt to help Missy undress and pull a nightgown over her head, then ran a towel over her saturated locks to absorb excess water.

  “Of all the times not to have hot cocoa,” Charlotte fretted.

  “Can I have tea?” Missy chirped. “And honey?”

  Sam slipped onto the bench and swung his legs. Missy scampered over to her brother, damp hair already forming ringlets that framed her face.

  Alaina pulled on the drenched fabric of her skirt to loosen her legs so she could stand. “I’ll get the honey.”

  “Regular little angels.” Charlotte smiled at the children. “You go change, Alaina. I’ll get them their tea.”

  Grateful to be free of the saturated dress, Alaina pulled on a dry winter gown of worn brown wool to stave off further chill and hung her wet clothes over a metal tub to drip dry. She paused to stare out her window, unable to see much for the rain and darkening skies but well aware that her heart felt as dark and heavy as the fabric she’d just hung up. Having made the decision to sew a new dress locked her into going to Pittsburgh. Her mother would not let her back down from her promise now.

  When she returned to the small kitchen, the first things she noticed were the drooping heads of both Sam and Missy.

  She shared a smile with her mother, who mouthed, “Bedtime.”

  Alaina pressed a hand against Missy’s back. “Why don’t I tuck you two in for the night?”

  “Are you going to read us a story?” Missy asked.

  “Not tonight. I don’t think you could stay awake to hear it all.”

  Missy pooched her lip but said no more.

  Sam slid off his chair and followed without protest. It took very little time to settle the two into the makeshift bed and say prayers. Missy dropped off sometime during Sam’s prayer for their father and that the rains would stop, and then he stretched out beside his sister.

  “I love you, Alaina,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

  “I love you, too, Sam. Sleep well.”

  Missy stirred, sighed, and curled closer to her brother’s side. Their heads were close together.

  Alaina pu
lled the blanket up around their shoulders and cast another glance outside, her mind suddenly full of the many times she’d heard the rumor of the Lake Conemaugh Dam bursting open. Her mother never seemed bothered by the prospect, but Alaina knew if it did happen things would be bad for Johnstown. It nibbled at her that she couldn’t leave her mother here, alone, with that threat looming large. Only the knowledge that her mother would discount the notion of the dam bursting flushed the idea from her mind.

  She sighed. A dull headache gathered strength behind her eyes, and she rubbed the spot to ease the pressure.

  “Alaina?” She turned to see the outline of her mother in the doorway. “There’s got to be an inch of mud in the store, so I promised Mr. Heiser I’d clean it up this evening.”

  She nodded and swiped her hands down the skirt of her dress. “Why don’t you let me do it?”

  “If we work together, it’ll go faster.” Her mother’s gaze slipped to the window behind Alaina. “Seems this rain will never stop.”

  “I was just thinking of that dam.”

  “It makes me glad we’re not on the ground floor,” Charlotte responded. She took a step closer to the doorway and paused. “Alaina, there’s something I need to say to you.”

  The words glued Alaina to the spot. She braced for a verbal assault.

  But her mother’s expression softened. “I want you to understand why I’m so”—Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut—“so hard on you.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I just don’t want you to have to struggle. To have your heart broken by a man who can’t keep his promises. Jack is so like your father.”

  “Why didn’t you go West, too?” The question slipped out before Alaina gave it thought. In all the years since her father had left, she’d never ventured to ask, afraid of the response. She opened her mouth to apologize and take back the words.

  Charlotte flinched but recovered quickly. Tears gathered in her eyes.

  Alaina reached to offer some measure of comfort. When her mother turned and left the room, she followed, as if drawn by an invisible cord.

  Her mother sat at the kitchen table and gestured for her to sit as well. “It’s good that you ask, though the telling isn’t easy.” She pressed her lips together as great tears welled.

  “Momma, you don’t have—”

  Charlotte gave her head a firm shake. “No. It’s a question that needs answering. One that God has Himself been asking me. You see, your father did ask me.” She clamped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t want to go. It was hard for me to think of leaving Johnstown. He wouldn’t budge either and told me he’d go ahead and send for us when he got settled.”

  “So he didn’t abandon us?” Shock rolled over Alaina.

  Her mother didn’t respond for a long time as she sobbed into her hands.

  The part of Alaina that wanted to comfort her mother dried up and blew away. Anger reared its ugly head. “How could you let me believe all these years that he left without ever looking back? He wanted us to go with him.”

  Charlotte nodded and smeared back the tears with the back of her hand. “I didn’t realize you thought that. When he wrote letters, he never asked me again. I guess I took that as his way of saying he didn’t want us.”

  That statement cut through Alaina’s anger. She could understand her mother’s reasoning. “Why did he stop writing?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I wish I knew. Between him not asking for us to join him and not writing, I’ve allowed myself to become”—she stared at the scarred tabletop—“bitter.”

  It made sense now. Her mother going back to church. The softening. Her reactions to Jack. Her bitterness. “But one thing you must understand, Momma, is that Jack is not Father. He wants to provide for me and make sure we’re well taken care of.”

  “But that’s no excuse for the way he forgets you.”

  Alaina nodded. “Yes, I know, but you’ve got to see him apart from Father. He’s his own man.”

  Her mother stared at her for several minutes. “Yes, you’re right. I’ve known that. Deep down inside, I’ve known that, but I still say you should be cautious. No man should treat you as Jack has.” Charlotte reached out and laid a hand on Alaina’s arm. “I have a surprise for you. I’ve been sewing dresses for you from scraps and leftover yardage my customers didn’t care about.”

  “You have?”

  “I saw the way you looked at him. At Jack. And I knew you would want to marry. I didn’t want you to start out in rags. And I always hoped you might change your mind and go to college. To Pittsburgh. So I’ve got two dresses for you in my room.”

  Alaina understood the pleading in her mother’s eyes and knew that she was being asked a question. She swallowed. “I’ll try them on.”

  “Good, we can get you on the train west tomorrow morning.” With that her mother left the room.

  Alaina’s head whirled with the generosity and suddenness of the gift, but something else, too—for the opportunity to see a side of her mother that she’d never seen before and for the knowledge that her father had not abandoned them. That was the most important of all the gifts she’d received.

  Eighteen

  May 30, 1889

  Jack breathed in the taste of freedom. Memorial Day meant a holiday. It meant festivities and banners and a nice tribute to the veterans of the Civil War. As he emerged from his shack and waved a hand at his landlady, who was busy herding her grandchildren indoors, he rubbed at the spot above his eyes where a dull ache had started to build after his restless night.

  The fact that Robert had received his promotion burned in his mind. His anger flared and tasted hot on his tongue. After all he had done for Fulton, the man gave the position to Robert. Jack grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. Robert would continue to rub it in his face, he had no doubt, but he would have to take it. If he protested too loudly, Fulton just might fire him, and if he got fired, there would be no way he could ever afford to get married. Besides, he still had his plans.

  Jack opened his eyes. Fulton’s willingness to finance Jack’s foray into inventing a better method of turning iron ore into steel still meant he had confidence in Jack’s ability. And if the plans were accepted, it could mean a promotion to something far above Robert’s new position. The very idea made Jack want to laugh. Oh, to see the expression on Robert’s face then. And Alaina would be so proud of him.

  In his mind, he could see the twinkle of pride in Alaina’s dark eyes. He imagined her mane of hair, pulled back into ringlets, and her petite form gowned in the latest fashion. His heart pounded, and he lengthened his stride.

  As he passed over the Little Conemaugh, he took note of the swollen, raging waters and how the water rose far above its normal level. He stabbed a glance at the pouting sky and made a mental note to take the train up to South Fork and check on the dam for himself.

  Water stood knee-deep in some of the streets. He wondered what James Quinn of Foster and Quinn, a general store, thought of all the rain. He was one of the few citizens Jack knew who worried over the dam breaking.

  “Hallo!”

  Jack stopped in a deep puddle and waved as a hack pulled up beside him, the animal’s back dark with water and sweat. “Ben, doing the business today, right?”

  “Sure enough.” Ben halted his horse right beside Jack. “The ladies especially aren’t wanting to get their feet wet.”

  “I’d think on a day like this most would want to stay dry. The wet only adds to the chill in the bones.”

  “Ah, but there’s something about Memorial Day that lightens the spirit.” His grin turned knowing. “Steady stream heading to the depot. If you hop in, I’ll get you there before she leaves.”

  Jack studied his friend’s expression and wide grin and felt the first squeeze of dread. “Before she leaves?”

  Ben’s smile wilted. “Why, sure.” The man glanced over Jack’s shoulder and scratched his chin with the edge of the reins in his hands. “Took
her, her momma, and the children over there for the ten fifteen to Pittsburgh. Want a ride?”

  “Pittsburgh?” He tried to make sense of the news being dumped on him. Tried to understand why Alaina would be headed to Pittsburgh. Or maybe. . . “Her mother must be headed out to visit.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “From the chatter and the way she was dressed, Alaina’s the one traveling.”

  Jack took a giant step forward and swung himself into the hack. “Hurry then.” The jerk of forward motion slammed Jack against the seat. He closed his eyes, unable to understand Alaina’s trip to Pittsburgh or her lack of communication on the matter. What about Sam and Missy? He dared not jump to conclusions without talking to her.

  A church clock struck the hour of ten as the horse pulled up in front of the B&O station.

  Jack pressed a coin into Ben’s hand and spun toward the station. People lined the platform. A pile of trunks and boxes waited to be loaded.

  He scanned the crowds until his eyes focused on two familiar faces. Sam and Missy each held one of Charlotte Morrison’s hands. When Alaina’s mother caught his gaze, her lips pressed together.

  But the woman who stood up beside Missy, her back to him, hair pulled back in ringlets and wearing a gown of rich material cut in the latest style, was what set Jack’s heart to beating. It was as if the mental image he’d had of her on his walk to Johnstown had materialized.

  Alaina’s mother nodded his direction.

  Jack took a step closer.

  Alaina turned, her eyes solemn, but the soberness faded into something else as he drew nearer.

  He searched her face, the burgundy of her eyes, and tried to put meaning to the question he didn’t know how to form.

  “Jack.” She lifted a hand and he caught it and brought it to his chest.

  “Jack!” Missy’s mouth curved into a smile.

  He lifted his hand in a wave and forced a grin, all he could muster, then faced Alaina. “Ben told me you were here. Pittsburgh?”

  “She’s going to see the school like I’ve told her she should from the first,” Charlotte offered.