Alaina turned. “Momma, please.”
“Give my girl a chance. Some space. That’s all I ask.” Charlotte’s no-nonsense tone held a note of desperation.
Jack felt dumbstruck by her words and the strange reality of Alaina’s obvious decision to leave.
“The train is coming, Alaina,” Charlotte murmured and shrank back with Sam and Missy. “Don’t take long.”
❧
She was a coward. She knew that now, facing Jack, seeing the anguish on his face.
Her mother had encouraged her to leave as soon as possible, and now she understood why. When she sat to write a letter to Jack, her mother insisted she hurry and pack. When she had paused from work with the intention of asking Victor Heiser if he’d carry the letter to Jack, Charlotte waved the idea away. “You’ve no time for that. He’s had no time for you.” And she’d allowed her mother to have sway over her.
But now, facing Jack, she knew she should have sought him out as her heart had told her to. “I’ve got to go, Jack. I’ve got to see what’s out there for me.”
“The college?”
“Momma has always wanted me to go. To see for myself. You know that.”
“But what about us?”
Tears burned her eyes. Frustration mingled with love, but the frustration took firmer hold on her emotions. “Us?” She stared down at their joined hands and felt the well of all the forgotten plans and the excuses that followed. “I don’t know. There never seemed to be any us. Just you and your determination to get rich. To invent whatever it is you—”
“Is it so wrong to want more for you than what you have now?”
It was the same old argument. She knew she would never get him to see that she needed him more than she needed wealth, and for the first time she recognized that she could not change him. She could not alter his drive. Only God could do that.
Her mother had been right all along. Marrying a man with such fierce focus meant she would be ignored. Was being ignored. In his bid to become rich, he’d become as fierce as his father, not in temper but in attitude.
The train came pounding into the station, leaving them suspended in pained silence as the vibration and noise drowned out any attempts at words.
His thumb stroked along the back of her hand. His tender touch impaled her heart and brought a wave of fresh tears to her eyes. He became a distorted image. When she raised her free hand to wipe the wetness from her cheeks, Jack produced a handkerchief in a swift motion.
The train settled into place, and people began to churn into action around them.
Alaina couldn’t speak.
“Please don’t leave,” Jack whispered.
“I’ve got to do this.” She wanted to say, “For me,” but recognized how it seemed to reek of selfishness. Was she being selfish? Wasn’t he? Marriage meant unselfish commitment. Not this. She had to release him.
“I lost the promotion. Is that why you’re leaving?”
“No.”
“You didn’t know, then?”
Her lower lip trembled. “Robert told me.”
“We’ll make something work out.”
“Why didn’t you come over last night?”
“I did. You weren’t home. I thought you might be out with Robert.”
Stung by the veiled accusation, she caught her trembling lip between her teeth.
His free hand captured hers and he squeezed. “When you come back, we’ll set a date. I can still work at Cambria, and if my plans go through. . .” The words tumbled from him like the raging waters of the Little Conemaugh. “Maybe we’ll have enough money.”
She shook her head, and his hands squeezed harder.
His eyes pleaded. “A trip away will help settle your mind. It’ll be good for you to get away. They say distance makes love stronger.”
“I can’t—” Her voice caught on a sob. “Jack, please. Listen to me.”
“The plans will work, and I’ll have enough to marry you. We’ll set the date for the end of June. If Fulton doesn’t think the idea will take, then I’ll work on another.”
“Jack, listen!”
“All aboard!” the conductor called out.
“It’s time, Alaina.” Her mother hovered at her elbow like an anxious bird. “Your bag is aboard.”
“Mother, please.” Her tears fell freely now, and she faced Jack again.
His eyes held a wet sheen that beckoned her own tears.
Charlotte retreated as the conductor shouted out another call.
“I’ve tried, Jack.” She licked her lips and tasted salt. “I’ve tried, but I can’t do this. I can’t marry you.”
His chest rose sharply, and he pulled her into his arms, where the scent of his damp shirt filled her nostrils and made her close her eyes against the desire to take back what she’d just said.
“Alaina, don’t leave me,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t leave me.”
“People are more important than things, Jack.”
“You are important to me.”
“When you think of me.”
“But I do, Alaina. All the time. I do it for—”
She couldn’t bear to hear him say it yet again. She wrenched herself from his grasp just as the conductor gave his last warning and the train whistle rent the air.
Jack reached to grab one of her hands, but she took a retreating step out of his reach. She took another step, shaking her head, unable to meet her mother’s gaze, only able to see the rawness of emotion slashing sorrow into the angles of Jack’s face.
She pressed a hand to her mouth and finally turned toward the train to run the final steps. The train started forward as she slid into her seat, alternately waving to her mother and grieving over the slumped shoulders and bowed head of the man she still loved. Her breath fogged the glass, and she resisted the urge to write the words “I’m so sorry, Jack” in the dew, but she felt them deep in her heart and soul.
Nineteen
“You’re a fool, Jack Kelly. A young, arrogant fool.”
Jack sluiced a hand over his wet head and glared at his friend. “I came for some measure of comfort, and I get condemnation?”
Frank sat up in bed, propped by no fewer than four pillows, and pursed his lips. “Being near death helps give one new insight. You’ve treated that girl like a new hat. You don’t give it the time of day unless it’s a special holiday. Then you’re glad to wear it.”
He bit back the angry defense of his actions and said the words that had echoed through his mind ever since Alaina had disappeared onto the train. “I loved her.”
He had wandered for hours, barely acknowledging the greetings from store owners and the barber. Not even the jokes about the high water or the sight of a man in a boat paddling down one road freed him from the chains of his remorse and grief. He loved her.
“Aye, boy-o, you loved her. As much as a pigheaded scrap of a man can love anyone.”
His head snapped up. “You—”
Frank raised his hand and poked a finger into Jack’s chest. Even from the hospital bed, Jack felt the sheer strength of the man in that one gesture. And something else. He saw the fury. “Wake up! How many times did you promise her you’d see her and not show up?”
Jack firmed his jaw. “She knew I had to work on my plans and—”
“How long you been feeding yourself that line, boy? How long you been ignoring what’s important? Where’s your faith, man? God Himself tells us to love a woman more than we love ourselves.”
“I know that verse. It’s for the married.”
“And you were planning on treating her good only then?”
“You know what I mean.”
Frank rose up. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? You ignored her in favor of gain, and now you’ve lost everything.”
With great effort, Jack stamped back the tirade of words that perched on his tongue.
Frank must have seen his struggle, only he didn’t hold back. “Your money will keep you warm. But will it g
ive you the companionship and love that a woman can give? Wake up, Jack!”
“I can see”—he sucked in a ragged breath—“that I made a mistake seeking you out. I thought you might help bolster a fella in his time of need.”
“You thought I’d give you sympathy and soothe your pride. Pride isn’t meant to be soothed, boy. It’s meant to be repented of.”
“I grew up poor, Frank. Remember? No one could ever be more humbled by that than me.”
“It’s become a pride to you to gain riches and overcome your past. You want what you didn’t think you had as a boy and what you now think is owed you.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck, and Jack caught the wince of pain that the simple movement caused him. “How many times has Alaina told you she doesn’t need to be the wife of a rich man?”
Jack froze. Had he talked to Alaina? He ran his fingers along the rim of his damp hat, regarding the roughness of the material.
Alaina’s face filled his mind. Her pleading words echoed to him. “I don’t need to be rich, Jack.” He pounded his hat back on his head and spun. “I’ll leave you to your own company then.”
“Jack.”
He spun around as Frank relaxed back, deep into the pillows, and closed his eyes. “Do us all a favor and keep your eye on that dam. Heard there’s more rain on the way. That thing’s not going to hold forever.”
❧
As the train picked up speed, Alaina struggled against the burn in her throat and the even worse hole where her heart had been. She rested her forehead against the window and prayed for strength and wisdom. . .and Jack. Always for Jack.
Releasing him had been the hardest thing. On so many levels she knew it was the answer, the right thing to do, but the pain consumed her like fire.
The conductor asked for her ticket just as the tears began staining her cheeks all over again. His kindly face smiled down at her. “If there’s anything you need, ma’am. . .”
“Thank you,” she croaked out, but the show of sympathy unraveled what little composure she’d managed to hold on to. Turning back to the window, she buried her face in her hands and let loose the torrent in a series of soft sobs that made her grateful the train didn’t travel with a full car of passengers.
She seemed to move in a haze, partially aware of her mother’s sister meeting her and the ride to the small, but richly furnished home. Her aunt’s stream of chatter, so contrary to her mother’s quiet nature, relieved her of the need to keep a constant dialogue going, and though sunshine spilled down in Pittsburgh, Alaina felt grateful for the warmth of the new, heavy dress material.
When her Aunt Joanne, or Aunt Jo as she preferred, took her on a hackney ride up Eighth Street to the college, the immenseness of the building overwhelmed her senses.
“I’m so excited to have you move here and attend,” her aunt chattered on. “You’ve kept up your studies? Knowing your mother, I’m sure you have.” The older woman twisted on her seat and shaded her eyes to squint at the building. A deep sigh escaped her. “Oh, how lovely. Brings a thrill to my heart every time I think of women in higher education. We’ll give those men something to think about, right, dear?”
Her aunt seldom required a response, and Alaina allowed her to continue the one-sided conversation. She needed to say something. Wanted to say quite a lot, really, but not about college or Latin or anything else related to life outside of Johnstown. It felt too much like acknowledging a life without Jack.
Oh, God, what have I done? Am I in Your will now, here, or in Johnstown?
Twenty
The long ride up from Johnstown had accomplished a diversion, though he couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking about or getting on and off the train. He recalled the crash of the raging Little Conemaugh River that followed the trail fourteen miles up from Johnstown to the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. When he disembarked in South Fork and found a horse, he rode straight up to the dam.
Frank’s words had spooked him. All the talk of the dam breaking. Yet it looked firm and solid and unyielding to him as he sat astride the horse. He spent an hour riding by the spillway stream and remembering the picnic he and Alaina had taken beside the beautiful fall of water. And at the crest of the dam, where the water lay a mere four feet from the top, he recalled the proposal. The sun in her hair. The smile that lifted his spirits and set his heart into a gallop.
Every memory they’d shared seemed to rip at him until he felt heavy and realized the light was fading from the sky. He finally kicked the horse into a gallop and took the short trip back down to South Fork.
There he had the horse looked after and crossed to a small restaurant, where he ordered the special and listened to the people talk about the rain. As he speared a chunk of roast and lifted it to his lips, he knew he needed rest and wondered if he would be able to sleep at all. He stared down at his nearly full plate and felt the food he had eaten ball up in his stomach. He pushed the plate away and scrubbed a hand over his hair and down his neck.
An older man entered the restaurant and, seeing the vacant chair across from Jack, headed straight for it. Tom Hennesey was a talker who often hauled club members up to the lake, including Alaina, which was how they’d come to know each other. Jack inclined his head as the man straddled the chair, then laid a hand on the seat and pulled it closer to the table. “Hear Johnstown’s a swimming hole.”
Jack couldn’t help but grin at the man’s choice of words. “Saw a rowboat going down a street on the west side.”
Tom spit out a laugh. “You’d think old Johnstown would learn a thing or two ’bout being in a floodplain. Guess they liken themselves as ducks. Me, I’m getting myself to higher ground. If any more rain’s a-coming, you won’t see me swimming for my life. Nope. I’ll be standing atop the mountain laughing.”
“You think it’s going to break?”
“You know these mountains, son. Thunder gusts happen all the time. And this weather”—he scratched at his chest—“been all over the place this month. Makes my bones weary and worries my mind something fierce.”
Jack pushed his plate in the man’s direction. “I’m done if you want to finish off what’s there.”
Tom guffawed, one gnarled hand clamping the edge of the dish and pulling it his way. “Don’t mind if I do. Shame to see good food go to waste.” His eyes traced over Jack’s face from beneath bushy brows. “You so lovesick you can’t eat? Heading up to see your girl?”
A knot swelled in Jack’s throat. “She’s not up there. Her family pulled out early.”
“Seems strange. What you doing up here then?”
Jack’s conscience pulled at him. His tongue held the explanation as if the saying of it would somehow dispel his sense of unreality. After all, Alaina could change her mind. He really had meant that the time away would be good for her. For them. But despite his conviction, the thought did little to ease the pain.
Tom stopped chewing and craned his neck, eyes more alert than Jack wanted. Jack scraped his chair back just as Tom handed down his verdict. “You got yourself girl trouble.”
Jack tried to shake off the comment.
But Tom waved him to stay put. “Got a thing or two to tell you about women. Now don’t look that way. I ain’t spilling anything I shouldn’t be. Was married myself once. She died a few years back of the diptheria that swept through here in ’79. You’d’ve been too young to remember much of it. Lot of children died, but got me real shook when my wife came down sick.” Tom’s brows beetled, and he tore off a corner of a biscuit and sopped up the juice from the roast before popping it into his mouth. “She was my life.”
Jack edged his seat closer. “You mean your wife?”
“Nope. Said it just like I meant it. She was my life. Took real good care of each other. When she died, I thought I’d ’bout near shrivel up and blow away.” Tom paused long enough to tear off another piece of biscuit.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Tom’s head snapped up. “So’s you can make good and
sure to listen to what it is she’s trying to tell you.”
“Trying to tell me. . .?”
“Woman doesn’t free a man up unless she’s got rock-solid good reason. I’ve met your girl. She’s a good one. Good heart. Gentle. Not hard to see that, even for an old one like me. Reminded me of my Rebecca. That’s the kind of woman a man needs most.” Tom paused. It seemed the man was working up to something else.
Already Jack had been surprised by the man’s talk. Most men joked and lamented being married, especially as the family grew. One of the reasons Jack wanted so much to be free from poverty before marrying. So many men had struggled to put food on the table, working twelve-hour shifts, six days a week. It wearied him to think of struggling like that the rest of his life.
“What about the kind of man a woman wants?” The words slipped out. Embarrassed by the question, Jack moved to rise.
“Reckon a woman’s wants aren’t so much different from a man’s. Someone to share life with. To love on and be loved by. All the other stuff is just leaves on the tree.”
Pain swelled in Jack’s heart as he stared down at the man and allowed the words to sink in. They chipped at him. Could it be that his need to make a comfortable living was more for him than Alaina? She’d told him so often enough. He wondered how it would feel to live with her as husband and wife and struggle as the other men struggled. Jack swiped a hand over his damp hair. “I need to go.”
“Go?” Tom chuckled. “Where you planning on going this time of night? You needing a place to stay, I reckon you can bunk at my place.”
❧
Dear Jack. . .
Those were the only words Alaina had managed to write in the hour since she’d retired to her room. She had escaped after convincing her Aunt Jo that her quietness stemmed from nothing more than exhaustion. Truer words she would never speak.
She cradled her head in the palm of her hand and stared at the paper and those two words. Tomorrow she would begin a tour of the college and look into requirements and tuition needs.
Her aunt had promised, many times, to help along those lines. “Regis left me quite comfortable, and I made a vow to your mother that I would help if you chose to attend. Your being here would be company for me, too. You might even meet some nice young man during your time here.”
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