Promise of Tomorrow

by Moore, S. Dionne

  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 si
lence 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.”

  Twenty-two

  Jack heaved the pickax. His muscles bunched as he pulled it to his shoulder and swung downward again with every bit of strength he could muster. The tight group of men around him worked like a machine, each man’s cuts with pickax or shovel in perfect synchronization with the next man’s. But Jack knew, even as his swing came down seconds before that of the man across from him, that it would never work.

  “It’s no use. We can’t cut through,” someone shouted through the rain.

  Jack’s hands slipped on the wet handle, and he adjusted his grip before raising the tool for another plunge into the rocky slope. He flipped the pickax to the side with the point midswing, but even the point did little more than make an inch-deep indentation.

  “Clear out! Clear out! It’s going over.” The tight ball of men working on carving out another spillway to relieve the pressure of the water building behind the dam scattered.

  Jack raised his head to see a sheen of water eat away at the dirt and rock that had been thrown up in the middle of the dam to increase its height.

  “Jack!” Tom yanked on his sleeve and got him moving. When the two men stopped on the far end of the dam, the water had begun the slide over the top and dropped in a silvery sheet. “It’s soaked through and won’t hold much longer,” Tom hollered.

  Jack jerked. “Warn them!”

  Tom’s hand held him firm. “It’s been done. The line from here isn’t working yet. They sent someone down to South Fork.”

  Jack’s mind churned. “I need to get to Johnstown.”

  Tom faced him, the man’s hands clenching his shoulders with a strength Jack would have never guessed him to possess. “Word is, roads are washed out. If you go out now, you could get caught in it.”

  Even as Tom’s words penetrated, the water sluicing over the dam grew in volume, like an insatiable beast that had tasted the sweetness of liberty and wanted more.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  Tom shook his head. “It’s no use. They sent another boy down to South Fork just minutes ago and another man went to clear his family out. I let them have our horses.”

  Tension grew in Jack’s stomach, clenching it hard and churning the cold pancake he’d eaten into acid.

  ❧

  “It seems to me you were rushed to get out of there. He is no doubt devastated and confused, perhaps even angry.”

  Alaina stared out the window at the street and recognized the train depot. “Auntie, I thought we were headed back to the college.”

  Aunt Jo’s eyes twinkled. “So you thought. If I were Alaina, I thought to myself, I’d want to head back to Johnstown as soon as possible and talk to my young man.”

  “But if I leave, Momma will be so unhappy.”

  Aunt Jo’s chin tilted to a stubborn angle. “Leave Charlotte to me.” The carriage pulled up in front of the station, and her aunt waited for the driver to offer his hand before descending. “Have your say with Jack and bring him and your mother with you back here.” Her eyes sparkled. “That will give me a chance to help your mother see reason. Maybe she’ll even swallow her stubborn pride and move back here to live with me like I’ve offered a thousand times.”

  Excitement and nervousness clawed at Alaina as s
he crossed the station and perused the length of the train.

  “Looks like Mr. Pitcairn is traveling today.” Aunt Jo’s long finger pointed. “That’s his private car right there. Oh, but they’re calling for boarding. Have a nice trip and come back whether Jack sees the light or not. Pittsburgh has some quite handsome single young men.”

  Alaina waved to her aunt until the woman faded to a speck and the train’s momentum made looking back a stomach-churning experience. Ash from the engine flew through the window and smeared on Alaina’s dress when she brushed at it. She pushed the window up and settled in to work out what she would say, both to her mother and to Jack.

  Jack.

  An urgency to pray gripped her. Pray for whom? For Jack? Her heartbeat picked up speed, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes, but her mind blanked. Lord? Her mind filled with the view of the valley from the Lake Conemaugh Dam. Lord, have mercy. I don’t know what this means, but protect Momma and Jack, Frank and—

  A raindrop splashed through an open window onto her hand, and Alaina wiped it away as a sickening dread filled her. Rain. The dam. All the rumors of the dam breaking and the water sweeping through the valley. Dread choked her throat. She prayed fervently for what seemed like hours and then raised her head to see the landscape blurred by gray rain. In places she glimpsed the high water pooling in lowlands. And all the time, she breathed the same prayer, the urgency not lessening, but her own fear growing until the tension in her body churned an ache in her head.

  Twenty-three

  Jack kept the horse at a gallop as much as possible during the fourteen-mile ride down to Johnstown from South Fork. The animal he’d borrowed in South Fork seemed game for the journey and displayed fine spirit despite the drizzle, raging water, and washed-out roads.

  At places along the route, Jack had to stop and pick his way over a washout, but the horse never hesitated when Jack dug his heels deep in the animal’s sides. Just as the valley came into view and the terrain flattened, the horse’s strides became more sure, but a deep-throated rumble brought Jack’s attention around. He spurred the animal, sure he knew what danger caused the sound. The water would have cut through by now.