Charlotte waved a hand in dismissal of her concern. “I’m paid well to have these gowns done quickly. The money is worth the long hours.” She stretched her neck from side to side, her eyes flicking toward the entrance that led to the front of the store. “Now how did those two come to be here?”
“Jack brought them over.” Her mother’s lips curved down into a frown, and Alaina hastened to continue. “Cambria had an accident today. Frank’s in the hospital.”
Charlotte’s face drained of color. “Oh no.”
“The children need a place to stay, so Jack thought I could watch them during the day while he’s at work.”
Her mother’s mouth tightened. “Did he think to ask first?”
“It happened so suddenly—”
Charlotte’s eyes flashed. “Stop it, Alaina. Stop defending him. I can’t stand to see you hurt by him.”
The door behind Alaina creaked open, and she knew without looking that it was Jack.
“Good evening, Mrs. Morrison.”
Charlotte tilted her head in acknowledgment of Jack’s greeting, but her lips remained pressed into a grim line.
Alaina nodded toward the front of the store. “Why don’t you check on the children, Jack?”
Charlotte resumed her seat and repositioned the material around her legs. “I’ve got to get this dress finished.”
Jack remained glued to the spot. “Since I have to work, I wanted to know if it would be all right for Sam and Missy to spend the day with Alaina. There was a bad accident today. Frank got hit real bad.”
Charlotte jammed her needle into the material and pulled through the other side. “So Alaina tells me. But it’s not my decision. It’s up to Alaina.”
“Mother, Jack’s trying to be polite.”
“I would consider it polite if he didn’t bother me with questions that don’t need my answer.”
Jack flinched. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your hostility, Mrs. Morrison, but whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
Charlotte’s head shot up. “Just like you’re sorry for all those times you haven’t shown up to take Alaina on a picnic, or roller-skating, or for a stroll? That kind of sorry is a word with no meaning.”
A muscle jumped in Jack’s jaw. “I can understand how you must feel that way, but I assure you, Mrs. Morrison, that I work very hard only in hopes of providing for Alaina in a way befitting to the woman I hope to marry.” He turned toward Alaina, as if seeking some measure of support.
It was there on her tongue to assure her mother that she understood and didn’t hold it against Jack, but it struck her that putting voice to such sentiments would be a lie. A lie she had perpetrated to give Jack peace, all the while allowing her own to slip away.
“You want to believe that, Jack Kelly. But I’ve been where Alaina is now. You cannot blame me for instilling in her a need for caution against marrying you, when you mistreat her as much as you do.”
Jack’s face flushed, and Alaina, afraid of drawing attention to themselves should Jack choose to continue the argument, grabbed his hand and tugged. “Let’s leave. Now.”
To her relief, Jack acknowledged her request with a stiff nod but turned once more toward her mother. “I know you are right in many ways, but I have seen the other side of poverty and know the strain it puts on a person’s mind. I want to avoid putting that kind of strain on my wife.”
Charlotte did not respond, though the quick stab at the material let Alaina know her mother had indeed heard.
❧
Jack called to Missy and Sam as he followed Alaina to the front of the store. The children bolted toward him and held up the candy sticks. Peppermint for both Missy and Sam. He smiled and feigned interest in their chatter, not hearing much more than the ring of first Alaina’s and then Charlotte’s verbal attacks.
The children sucked happily as they went up the big steps.
Jack held back. “I’ll wait here.”
Alaina followed the children upstairs. “I’ll settle them and be back down.”
Beside the big maple tree, Jack rehearsed what he would tell Alaina. It would cheer her to learn that he’d be turning in his final papers to Mr. Fulton soon, freeing him to spend more time with her and the children. It would put her fears to rest. And Charlotte’s.
The streetlamps flickered in the dark, and drops of rain forced Jack to take shelter under the maple’s spreading branches. No matter what he did, it never seemed right.
“Jack?”
When he faced her, she stood in the shadow of the branches. He captured her hand and turned her until the lamplight highlighted her expression. Strain and worry marked the areas around her eyes and mouth.
Shame washed over him, and his heart twisted for the pain Alaina’s eyes reflected. “I’ve made a mess of things.”
Alaina stayed silent, and her silence put a weight in his stomach. “I should have told your mother that I’d be turning in the papers to Mr. Fulton in only a few days. Then I’ll be done.”
“That is good news.” Her voice lacked conviction.
“It’ll mean we can spend more time together. It’s only that I’ve been so distracted by everything. You know how much it means to me to take good care of you, Alaina.”
“Jack. . .”
He barely heard her as the feeling that she was slipping away from him grew. Panic surged and he clasped her hand tighter, begging with his words as much as his heart for her to understand.
She pulled her hand away. “What happens when something else ‘distracts’ you? Is this why you’re so angry with your father? Did he do this to you?”
“He was an inventor, yes. But we can talk about him some other time.”
“No. No, Jack. I want you to tell me about your father.”
The gentle command slashed through his fears and stabbed coldness into his heart, and Jack understood, in that moment, both the depth of his bitterness toward Don Kelly and how much he needed to forgive his father. He gulped air. “He’s dead.”
Alaina flattened her hand against his until their palms met. He watched as she traced the outline of his knuckles with her fingers.
The motion soothed him. Seconds stretched into minutes and Jack grew calmer, more clearheaded.
When she finally met his gaze, her smile was beatific and gentle. “He hurt you.”
He closed his eyes as the emotion welled up again, threatening to drown him.
“Tell me, Jack.”
With a hard exhale, he made up his mind. Riding the crest of his anger and frustration, grief and sorrow, he told Alaina about his father. And his mother. The farm. The drinking. The lack of money. His father’s death. . .
“He was sick?” she asked.
Jack pressed his lips together to stop the trembling.
“Jack?” She moved in close to him and peered up into his face.
He could not look away from those eyes. Didn’t want to.
“How did your father die?”
He struggled to draw air into his lungs. “Mama found him.” He closed his eyes against the image that greeted them that morning in the barn. His mother had been out before him, then had come racing back to get him, eyes wild. Hair mussed. Out of breath.
Jack took a step away from Alaina. Then another. Until his back touched the tall maple tree.
“Oh, Jack,” he heard Alaina’s words through a haze of pain and anguish.
In his mind he saw again the flash of light against the blade of the knife as it winked before he cut through the rope that held the weight of his father’s body.
God, help me.
Jack’s legs went weak, and he felt himself plunging downward, his shirt catching on the rough bark of the maple.
And Alaina was there beside him. Holding him tight.
“He hung himself, Lainey. He. . .”
Her hand stroked his head as the tears streamed down his face.
Thirteen
May 23, 1889
In the weak morning light filtering
through her window, Alaina felt the pull of a thousand emotions. She lay as still as possible, praying the children wouldn’t wake so she might have time to sort through her feelings before helping them get dressed for the day. She focused on a spot on the ceiling and sank into prayer, laying all her struggles at God’s feet. Silent tears slipped from her eyes as she reviewed everything that had occurred in the last few days and the terrible secret Jack had revealed. She prayed God would heal his heart.
Learning of Don Kelly’s death had left her breathless with hurt for Jack. Her admiration of him had gone up a notch, just as the knowledge of all that he’d faced as an orphan had sketched a greater empathy for him in her heart. It had cost him so much to share with her his private shame, for she knew that his father’s suicide had been a wrenching grief that wouldn’t heal.
When Jack’s tears had finally stopped, she had helped him to his feet and scrambled for something to say, but Sam had chosen that moment to open the door and holler down for her. She’d been torn then, wanting to give Jack the reassurance he so needed, but the sound of Missy’s crying forced her to choose.
Jack’s gentle shove and his whispered, “I’ve got to get back anyway,” had helped.
She’d hesitated long enough to rise on her toes and touch her lips to his cheek before rushing up the steps, saddened to see the slump of his shoulders as his steps took him away from her.
That had been two days ago.
She worried over his extended absence yet knew instinctively that he would drive himself to finish his work for Mr. Fulton until it was completed. But it wasn’t fair to Missy and Sam. They were growing restless and worried about their father.
She couldn’t help but see that it was one more time when people meant less to Jack than his drive to have money. Now, though, she understood the basis for his drive to succeed. On one hand, she still felt slighted by him, but on the other, she understood how growing up poor and watching his father lose everything, drink by drink, had scarred him.
Alaina wanted so much for God to give her peace about her relationship with Jack. His approval. It seemed like all opposition had been unleashed on them since their engagement. An involuntary shiver made her teeth click. She wiped the moisture from her face and tried to dissolve the gripping knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. More than God’s direct answer, she feared His silence.
Sam stirred and bounced to his feet, balled fists working at the sleep in his eyes.
Alaina had to smile at his display of enthusiasm for the day. “Good morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?”
He blinked around the room, his gaze settling on her. He gave her a solemn nod and poked at Missy. The girl grunted. Her hair spilled out behind her along the pillow next to Alaina. By the looks of the curls, it would take quite a while to get the tangles worked free.
Within minutes, Missy, too, bounded to her feet and began a stream of chatter as she dressed.
“Missy, stand still so I can button you,” Alaina admonished the girl.
“I have to go out,” Sam said. “Now.”
Freed from Alaina’s ministrations, Missy reached to snap Sam’s suspenders into place. “I’m ready.”
Alaina showed the children from her room and pulled on her day dress. They made short work of the trip to the outhouse and reentered to find her mother working on breakfast. Alaina leaned in to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek.
“Miss Alaina,” Missy popped around her elbow. “Sam has dirt all around.”
“Well, it sounds like Sam needs to wash up. Let me get some water heated.”
“I can take care of myself!” Sam stormed at his sister. “Stop bossing, Missy.”
Alaina silenced Missy’s reply, “Let’s try not to fight.” She put Missy to work setting the table as the water heated.
Charlotte served up the oatmeal with a grim smile for each of the children and a kiss on the top of Alaina’s head.
“I want some syrup,” Missy declared.
Alaina fetched the can and allowed each a spoonful of brown sugar and a dollop of syrup. The soothing scent of the maple and the velvet texture of the oatmeal soothed Alaina and helped her focus.
“Why hasn’t Jack told us about Daddy?” Missy asked.
Alaina gestured for the girl to eat and shook her head. “Jack has to work, just like your father would have to work if he were feeling better.”
Missy scooped up another spoonful and aimed it at her mouth, but one more question slipped out. “Will Daddy lose his job? Mark Rosenfelt’s daddy lost his job after he hurt his hand.”
“I don’t know, Missy. Why don’t we make it a matter of prayer?”
Charlotte remained quiet through the meal but spoke up as Missy scraped the last of the oatmeal from her bowl. “Why don’t you help me, Sam, while Miss Alaina helps Missy get cleaned up?”
The boy nodded and shoveled in the last bite.
Alaina smiled her gratitude at her mother and took Missy to her room. She brushed the gnarls out of the long, wheat-colored hair and braided it to prevent further tangles.
“My mother used to do the same thing.” Missy yawned into her hand.
Alaina’s fingers stilled. It was too easy to forget how much grief Missy and Sam had already experienced in their young lives. She closed her eyes and forced away the last vestiges of her own melancholy, remembering an oft-stated phrase of her old Sunday school teacher.
“Those who too often look inward, seldom look upward.”
No matter the problems she might have, Sam and Missy needed her full attention.
❧
Jack stopped at his place long enough to clean up before heading over to Alaina’s. They had reason to celebrate. He’d pulled a lot of long hours between his job, working to prove his theory, and checking on Frank, but his burden had lifted considerably when he’d passed his plans to Mr. Fulton during a break in his shift.
Clarence Fulton had stroked his face as he read over the papers, and when he’d raised his eyes to Jack’s, his smile had been huge. “I think you’re on to something. Let me pass these up to someone who would know more about such things, and we’ll get back to you.” Clarence squinted at the calendar on his desk. “We should hear something back by the end of the month, I’d say. How does that sound?”
Elation had carried Jack through the rest of the long, hot shift and all the way home. As he splashed water onto his face to soothe his hot skin, he felt buoyed by thoughts of the time he would get to spend with Alaina. And Sam and Missy, of course. He combed his hair in the small mirror over his shaving stand, noting his need for a trim, then snapped his suspenders into place.
When he arrived at the dispensary to check on Frank’s condition, the edge of his happiness faded somewhat. Frank’s skin was flushed with fever.
When Frank saw Jack, he waved him over. “Miss the mites. They behaving themselves?”
Jack grinned. “Hello to you, too.”
Frank grunted. “You have any idea what it’s like lying flat on your back like this?”
“I wish I did.”
Frank frowned. “Don’t talk foolish.”
Jack hitched his chair closer to the edge of Frank’s bedside. “I see you’re not feeling well.”
“Doc says the fever could kill me or make me better. Sobering words.” Frank’s jaw worked, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m all Sam and Missy have, Jack.”
“You’ll pull through this. Only the good die young.”
His friend scowled. “Then you’ll surely outlive me by a few centuries.”
Jack laughed.
The levity shattered Frank’s scowl and seemed to improve his temperament. “I really appreciate Alaina watching Missy and Sam for me.”
“You know how much she loves children.”
Frank threw off his thin blanket. “You’d better make that woman yours soon, or someone else is liable to claim her.”
Jack clamped his hands together. “Sooner rather than later, I’m hoping. If I get this promotion,
we’ll be set.”
“Promotion or not. . .” Frank’s brows lowered. “Why you looking so smug?”
“Congratulate me. I just turned in the papers stating my theory to Mr. Fulton. I’m on to something, Frank. It’s really going to work.”
Instead of words of praise, Frank gave him a hard look. “You’re not listening to me, boy. Get your head off invention. Lying here’s made me think about a whole lot. You included. And I’m telling you, you’d be better off with Alaina than with anything a promotion or that invention will get you.” Frank shifted and winced, his face losing some color, his voice roughened from pain. “Be glad when the burns heal up and these ribs let me draw in a decent breath.”
“I’ll bring Missy and Sam by. They’ll be glad to see you.”
“How long’s it been since you saw them?”
Frank’s question brought a surge of anger. “A while. I had some work to do and—”
“Tell them I miss them and I love them.”
Jack could see the tension in Frank’s face and body and knew his friend must be in a great deal more pain than he allowed others to see, but it didn’t give him a right to try and tell him what to do.
Frank grimaced. “Even Alaina?”
“Alaina what?”
“Tell her you love her. Daily, Jack. Time’s too short.”
Jack winced at the sharp edge of rebuke in Frank’s tone.
“She’s too precious to be ignored.”
“I don’t ignore her.”
Frank’s eyes burned into his. “You mean, you don’t think you do.”
Fourteen
Jack bounded up the steps to Alaina’s. Laughter spilled through the closed door, putting a smile on his lips. He almost hated to knock and interrupt the flow of joy. A high-pitched squeal rent the air, followed by another, and he imagined Alaina chasing Sam and Missy, as he had witnessed her play with the Hensley children so many times. Longing to be a part of the scene, he knocked, and the door opened to reveal the wide smile of Charlotte Morrison. “Mrs. Morrison,” he nodded and held his breath as he watched her smile wither and her eyes lose the luster of joy.
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