Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash

by Tammy Pasterick

  “At least for a time,” Mr. McGowan said. “I think it’s a step in the right direction.”

  Mr. Rankin continued, “My time at US Steel is winding down, but gentlemen, as relatively young managers, you need to realize that talk of collective bargaining among the workers will not go away anytime soon. If we are to keep the unions out, we must do some things to appease our workforce. Compromises must be made. We have to show the workers that the company has a conscience.”

  Henry watched as his host stood up and walked over to the window. “It’s getting late, gentlemen. We should join the ladies in the parlor. Mr. Archer, the last train back to Riverton will be leaving soon. Can my valet give you a ride to the station?”

  “I’ll take him,” Mr. McGowan said. “I love driving my new automobile.”

  “You’re still staying the night, aren’t you, Francis? We can shoot squirrels after breakfast,” Mr. Rankin said, winking at his friend. “Maybe even during breakfast if we eat outside on the patio.”

  “That’s an offer I cannot refuse.” Mr. McGowan chuckled.

  In the parlor, the guests thanked Mr. and Mrs. Rankin for a wonderful evening before departing. Henry noticed that Miss Girard was no longer present. As he started for the front door with Mr. McGowan, Mrs. Rankin called after him.

  “Mr. Archer, my cousin was sorry she could not stay up to say goodbye, but she did want you to know that she enjoyed your company. Perhaps you would like to join us next weekend for a picnic.”

  Henry was surprised by the invitation, but wondered if a closer acquaintance with Miss Girard and the Rankins could prove advantageous. Perhaps they would provide him with new social connections in New York. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Rankin,” Henry said with a smile.

  “Splendid. We’ll see you next Saturday at noon.”

  As Henry fingered the black leather upholstery in Mr. McGowan’s brand-new Ford Model T, he felt a twinge of jealousy. “I had hoped to purchase an automobile soon, but I guess there’s no need now that I’ll be returning to New York.”

  “In what part of the city will you be living, Mr. Archer?”

  “I’m hoping to find an apartment in Lower Manhattan near the Empire Building. I’ll be staying with my aunt in Brooklyn while I’m conducting my search.”

  “So you’re a Brooklyn boy!”

  “I am. My parents died when I was very young. My aunt and uncle raised me not far from Prospect Park.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the older man said sympathetically.

  Henry studied Mr. McGowan, who looked very content in the driver’s seat of his new car. He was a thin, athletic-looking man with a kind face and a pleasant demeanor. Henry liked him.

  “Mr. McGowan, what can you tell me about Miss Girard? I have a feeling she hasn’t met too many men from Brooklyn.”

  “I doubt it.” He chuckled. “She’s an heiress. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Covington railroad empire.”

  Henry was astonished that his hunch had been correct. He had never been in the same room with anyone so wealthy. “What’s she doing in Pittsburgh?”

  “I think she’s trying to find a husband. Mrs. Rankin has been playing matchmaker for her all spring.”

  “Surely someone of her background would have men lined up outside the door.” Henry immediately thought of her unsightly facial hair and deep voice, both likely deterrents.

  “You would think. I believe she’s had a rather difficult year. There were some unpleasant circumstances.”

  “Such as?”

  Mr. McGowan hesitated. He seemed to be considering something, or just focusing on the road ahead, which was difficult to see in the dark even with the headlamps. “I don’t know all the details, Mr. Archer. What I do know is that she seemed quite taken with you.”

  “I enjoyed our conversation, but …”

  Mr. McGowan smirked. “I know what you’re thinking. Her face is … disappointing. No matter. With a fortune like hers, someone will be willing to overlook it. She simply hasn’t found him yet.”

  Fourteen

  SOFIE

  RIVERTON, JUNE 11, 1910

  “Papa! You finally made it!” Sofie shouted joyfully as she ran toward her father in the musty basement of St. Michael’s Roman Catholic Church. He had just completed his Saturday shift at the mill, but had gone home to wash up and change clothing. His black suit, reserved for Sundays and special occasions, was freshly pressed and made him look rather distinguished. A passerby on the street would never guess he was a mill worker.

  “I wish you could’ve seen the wedding ceremony. Jenny looked lovely. She wore the most beautiful wreath, and her veil trailed down to the floor.”

  “Aren’t the bride and groom still here?” Papa asked, sounding confused.

  “They are, but the old ladies already did the čepčenie ceremony.” Sofie had watched in awe as they’d removed the fragile veil and replaced it with a white kerchief. “Jenny still looks beautiful, but that veil …”

  “One day you will wear such a veil at your own wedding, zlatíčko.”

  Sofie blushed as her father kissed her on the forehead.

  “Your new blue dress brings out the color in your eyes,” he added. “You look very pretty.”

  “Thanks, Papa. Did you see the elm tree across the street? Father Figlar said it was struck by lightning during last night’s storm.”

  “How could I miss it? That storm was a little frightening, wasn’t it? Lukas was tossing and turning all night.”

  “At least it’s not so hot now. The church basement is still damp from all that rain though. Father Figlar had a bunch of the boys mop up the puddles near the walls.”

  “A little rainwater won’t ruin the celebration. Why don’t you take me to your mother and aunt? Where are they sitting?”

  “They’re in that corner with the Radovics.” Sofie pointed to a poorly lit area on the other side of the room. “The babas saved some holubky and pirohy for you and the others coming from the mill. There are still lots of cookies left, but you’d better hurry. Pole and Lukas have been playing cards near the cookie table all night. They’re filling their pockets with them.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “And Mama … she’s had a good bit of whiskey.”

  A sly smile formed on Papa’s lips. “She should be in the mood for a dance then.”

  Sofie gave her father a confused look.

  Papa laughed. “Weddings and whiskey always put people in the mood for romance.”

  Sofie led her father over to the table where her mother and aunt were seated with her friend Marie’s parents. She watched as her father greeted everyone in Slovak and complimented the ladies on how beautifully they were dressed. Sofie was struck yet again by her mother’s elegant appearance. Next to the bride, she was the loveliest woman in the room in her ivory lace gown. Mama had claimed she’d borrowed the delicate dress from a woman who lived in Mr. Archer’s neighborhood, but Sofie was skeptical. She could not imagine why anyone would part with such an expensive garment even for just one evening. Nevertheless, Mama looked stunning with her curled blonde hair arranged at the nape of her neck in a loose chignon. Sofie was surprised by how proud she was of her mother’s beauty. She wondered if she would ever look as pretty.

  Sofie sat down next to her father and watched him devour a half-dozen holubky while listening to Mihal Radovic detail his plans to relocate his family somewhere up north. Sofie tried hard to follow the conversation, but unfortunately, her Slovak wasn’t good enough to follow such rapid speech. Growing bored, she got up and ventured over to the cookie table. It was tradition for the neighborhood babas to bake cookies for all the church’s weddings since no one could afford the luxury of a wedding cake. As Sofie surveyed what was left of the delicious treats, she tripped over her brother and Pole, who were playing Hearts on the floor.

  “Hey, Sof! Wanna play?” Pole asked.

  “I’m getting Papa some cookies. I can’t believe the babas haven’t kicked y
ou two out of here.” She narrowed her eyes. “Of all the places to play cards! You couldn’t be more obvious.”

  Pole laughed as Lukas shoved a few apricot koláče into his mouth.

  “Where did Peter and Paul go?” Sofie asked.

  “They’re outside with Marie catchin’ lightning bugs. I’m going soon. You wanna come?” Pole looked up hopefully.

  “Maybe in a few minutes. I want Papa to have some of these walnut koláče before they’re all gone.”

  Sofie went back to the table where her parents were sitting with Aunt Anna. Mr. and Mrs. Radovic were dancing a polka to a lively tune played by a small group of musicians on accordions and violins. Just as Sofie placed the plate of desserts in front of her father, he stood up and took her hand.

  “May I have a dance with the prettiest girl in the room?”

  Sofie smiled as her father whisked her over to the dance floor. They joined the ring of cheerful dancers who were stepping and hopping in circles with their partners. Sofie let her father lead and tried not to get dizzy as he whirled her around the room. She was surprised he still had so much energy at the end of a workday. The tempo of the music was fast, and Sofie struggled to keep up.

  As the polka changed over to a waltz, Papa led Sofie back to the table. “May I have a dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?” he asked Mama.

  “Of course,” she replied with a wink.

  Sofie watched her mother and father waltz to a slow tune played by a violin. She studied them closely, admiring how lovely they looked together. As they gazed affectionately at each other, Sofie tried to remember the last time she had seen them look so happy. They were acting like a married couple. She suddenly felt confused and turned to Aunt Anna, who was the only person left at the table.

  “What’s gotten into them?” Sofie asked.

  “People always get sentimental at weddings. It reminds them of when they were young and in love. And there’s also the whiskey.”

  “Must be powerful stuff. I’ve never seen Mama look at Papa like that.”

  Aunt Anna laughed. “You know, Sofie, when your parents first came to Riverton, they were the couple everyone envied. They were so devoted to each other.”

  “What changed?”

  “Life. Living in the shadow of the mill. Your parents have worked too hard for too long and have little to show for it. They’re exhausted.” Aunt Anna sighed. “Maybe even disappointed.”

  “I know Mama’s disappointed. She doesn’t like having a family.”

  “That’s not true. She loves you and Lukas. She’s just not very good at showing it.” Sofie’s aunt bit into a cookie, chewing slowly. “She’s too consumed with her own troubles.”

  “Mama’s been sad for as long as I can remember. She’s been better lately, but sometimes she barely says a word to me for days.” Sofie’s lip quivered.

  Aunt Anna pulled her niece close and kissed her on the forehead. She tilted Sofie’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You are a wonderful little girl. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a daughter. But your mama’s suffering is so great that she can’t see the good in her life.” Aunt Anna shook her head. “Sometimes I’m not sure it’s entirely her fault.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never seen a person struggle the way your mama does. Her dark moods are always getting in the way of her happiness. It was especially difficult after you and Lukas were born.”

  “How so?”

  “She was gloomy and somber when she should’ve been overjoyed.”

  “I knew she didn’t want us.” Sofie huffed, crossing her arms.

  “Of course, she did. I’m simply making the point that your mother’s sadness might be more complicated than we realize.”

  “They’re almost ready to do the bridal dance,” Papa said, startling Sofie. “Why don’t you find Pole and the other boys and see if they’d like to dance with Jenny?”

  “Pole doesn’t dance.”

  “He’d better learn if he wants to impress the girls.”

  Just as Sofie was about to head outside to find Pole, he snuck up behind her and tickled her ear with a feather.

  “You’re just in time for the bridal dance,” Papa said to him. “The line is long, but you can dance with Sofie while you’re waiting.”

  “We’ll be the only kids on the dance floor,” Sofie whined. “And Pole doesn’t even know any steps.”

  “Sure, I do!” he said defensively.

  Sofie crossed her arms. “Really? When did you learn how to dance?”

  “There’s always an accordion playin’ at the boarding house on the weekends. I might’ve picked up a few steps.”

  “There you go,” Papa said, pushing Sofie and Pole onto the dance floor. “Have fun. It’s not every weekend you get to attend a wedding.”

  Sofie rolled her eyes as Pole took her hand and led her to the other side of the dance floor, away from the bridal dance. The band was playing a fast polka. She tried to hide her embarrassment as Pole put one hand across her back and suspended the other in the air. Her cheeks were growing hot.

  “You goin’ to take my hand or not?” he asked, smirking. “I won’t bite.”

  “I might.” Sofie growled in the lowest voice she could muster, but she and Pole wound up laughing at her pitiful attempt at sounding like a mountain lion. “Don’t even think of stepping on my toes,” she warned him.

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Pole grabbed Sofie’s hand and whirled her around the dance floor at a dizzying pace. She was pleasantly surprised that he had a good sense of rhythm. He knew quite a few steps, but she helped him add more to his repertoire. They danced through two fast polkas, joking and laughing when they tripped over each other’s feet.

  “See, Sof. I’m not that bad.”

  “You’re not that great either. I think my big toe is broken,” she teased.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m goin’ to have a nasty bruise on my shin tomorrow. You kicked me. More than once.”

  Suddenly, the tempo of the music changed. Sofie and Pole stopped moving and stared at each other, unsure of what to do.

  “This is a waltz,” she said. “Let’s get something to drink.”

  As she and Pole left the dance floor, Sofie caught a glimpse of her father, who was handing a few coins to a groomsman in exchange for a shot of whiskey and a dance with the bride. He winked at her and motioned for her to start dancing again. Sofie shook her head vigorously. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself during a waltz.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Marie and her family are moving at the end of the summer?” Pole asked Sofie as they arrived at the punch bowl. “Peter and Paul told me while we were playin’ cards. They seem excited.”

  “I’m not. And neither is Marie. We’re pretending it’s not happening.” Hot tears burned Sofie’s eyes.

  “Now, don’t cry.” Pole patted her back. “I know you’re going to miss Marie, but you can visit her, write letters.”

  “It’s not the same,” Sofie said, sniffling.

  “I know.” Pole brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “But it’s not the end of the world. You still have me,” he said, pointing to his chest. “What more could you ask for?”

  Sofie studied Pole, who was grinning proudly, apparently satisfied with himself. He was her best friend in the entire world. As much as she would miss Marie, losing Pole would be far worse. She couldn’t explain why, but her heart was certain of that truth.

  “We can spend more time at the fishin’ hole. And maybe you can help get me caught up with my Slovak. Sister Agnes will have to find someone else to smack with her ruler.”

  Sofie nodded, feeling her mood begin to lighten. “I’d like that. But you have to promise me that you’re not going to leave town, too.”

  “Now why would I leave a paradise like Riverton?” Pole chuckled. “We’ve got the biggest mill around with more smoke than we know what to do with.”

  Sofie giggled as she p
opped another cookie into her mouth.

  “First fishing pals and now dance partners. What next?” Papa asked as he approached from the dance floor.

  “I’m going to help Pole with his Slovak,” Sofie announced.

  “That’s a noble endeavor, zlatíčko, but it’ll have to wait,” Papa said. “We need to get home. I start the long turn in the morning.”

  “My pop does, too. I don’t know how anyone makes it through a twenty-four-hour shift at the mill.”

  “I pray you’ll never have to find out,” Papa said, ruffling Pole’s hair.

  As Sofie turned to leave with her father, she called over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow at the fishing hole.”

  Pole smiled and winked at her.

  As Sofie walked home with her family, gazing at the stars shining faintly through the smoky haze, she felt beyond content. She had never imagined the wedding would be so special. Seeing her parents look so happy on the dance floor had given her a newfound feeling of hope. Mama and Papa still cared for each other. It was such a relief.

  And as much as she dreaded losing Marie, she was looking forward to spending more time with Pole. Fishing along the banks of the river and playing Slovak teacher sounded like the perfect way to pass the summer, even if her student wouldn’t be the most enthusiastic. Sofie suddenly wondered whether her fishing pole would be a good substitute for Sister Agnes’s ruler.

  Fifteen

  HENRY

  PITTSBURGH, JUNE 18, 1910

  Orchids, lily pads, liriope. Henry had never seen so many exotic flowers and plants in all his life. Instead of returning to Shetland House for a picnic as Mrs. Rankin had suggested the previous week, she had sent him a telegram requesting that he meet her and Miss Girard at Phipps Conservatory in Schenley Park.

  He and Miss Girard had spent the entire Saturday morning shuffling through various themed exhibit rooms showcasing rare species of plants while Mrs. Rankin and her friend Mrs. Potter followed closely behind, serving as chaperones.

  Annuals, biennials, perennials—Henry had never given these terms any thought. What did he need to know about gardening? He had listened politely as Miss Girard led him through the conservatory, pointing out plant species she recognized. Henry feigned interest and complimented her on her impressive knowledge of the natural world. His performance must have been convincing because they’d spent almost an hour in the Cacti House staring at scorpion weed and southwestern prickly poppy.