Promise of Tomorrow (15 page)

Thirty

June 8, 1889

Jack pushed himself to sit up. His head didn't pound like it used to, and his vision had cleared, but he still felt fuzzy. Probably from not eating and from lying around for so many days. He made up his mind that he would walk out of the hospital that day.

Across from him, Sam slept on despite the usual noise. The noise. He'd be glad to go to sleep and not be awakened by groans or grunts or the usual hospital cacophony. With great effort, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and hesitated. His world spun, then settled.

“Taking off?”

Jack tried to focus on the person at the end of his bed.
Frank.
“If they're putting you in here, I am.”

“Well, they're not.” Frank spread his arms. “And no more crutches.”

“Wonderful. Now help me off this bed and out that door.”

Frank's chuckle reached Jack's ears. “You think that's wise? Doctors might have something to say about it.”

“They won't miss me, and I'm sure they could use the space.”

Jack tensed his muscles to push himself up, but Frank's hand clamped down on his shoulder. “You're an idiot, Kelly. You've not been vertical in almost seven days, and you're going to try to just walk out of here. You'll be on the floor so fast you'll—”

Jack tried to shrug his friend's hand off his shoulder and push forward, but whatever Frank was, he wasn't weak.

“You should at least wait for Alaina.”

Which Jack translated to mean,
“Maybe she'll say something to penetrate that thick skull.”
He chuckled and relaxed. “You win. I'll behave.”

“Good. Now, before she gets here—”

“You going to lecture me again about treating her badly? Because I can tell you that being flat on my back, seeing all the destruction, surviving, has taught me a lot. I've been a fool.”

Frank pounded his shoulder, though not with his usual force. “You sure have, and I'm glad you've jerked to your senses. But that wasn't what I was going to say.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh, brother.

“I heard someone say there's quite a few people up in Brownstown who haven't registered. I'm headed up there to see if Charlotte might be among them.”

Jack hoped for Alaina's sake that she was. Though he and Charlotte seemed at odds, with Alaina caught in the middle, Jack didn't wish anything bad on her, for her sake as well as for Alaina's. Losing her mother would break Alaina's heart.

Though he'd never given much thought to Charlotte's disapproval of him, he saw now what Frank had tried to tell him months ago. People's lives mold their beliefs, just as his father's continual failings and living in poverty had molded his need to succeed. . .to be rich. Even to the exclusion of loving Alaina as he should. God had showed him so much in such a short span of time.

❧

The crude shelter creaked and groaned with the breezes. Alaina pulled her hair back into a low bun to mask the need for a good hair-washing. She stretched and tried to work the soreness from muscles not used to sleeping on hard surfaces. Oh, to soak in a nice tub of water. She'd give anything for the luxury.

As she crossed from Prospect Hill into Johnstown, Alaina's spirits rose. The townspeople, with a lot of help from outsiders, worked hard to remove debris and build temporary housing. Clara Barton had arrived on the fifth of June, and already hotels were being built under her direction, along with Red Cross tents to serve as hospitals. Still, even with the progress brought by relief efforts, the townspeople seemed cloaked in melancholia.
Time heals all
.

She rounded the edge of the temporary hospital as nurses and doctors were readying people for transfer to the Red Cross tents. Down the row, she could see Frank standing beside Jack. Relief tweaked at her mind to see Jack sitting up, yet the sight also became tinged with worry when she recognized the stubborn set of Jack's jaw and the hand Frank had on his shoulder.

As she closed in on the two, she overheard Frank's intentions of going up to Brownstown to search for her mother. She detoured to Sam's bed and found him sound asleep. She pulled the blanket up higher on the boy's chest and smoothed the chestnut hair back from his smooth brow.

Frank caught sight of her first. “Just telling this brute he needed to lay himself down before he slid off onto the floor. He's got it into his head that he can just hop to his feet and walk out of here.”

“He's a bully.” Jack reached up to grasp her hand. “You'll protect me though, won't you?”

The warmth of his hand sent her heart into a canter. “I'll protect you.” She sent a wink to Frank then scowled at Jack. “Now lie down and be a good patient.”

Jack groaned and squeezed her hand. “Yes, ma'am. Somehow it's sweeter coming from you.”

“Let's see what the doctor says before you try anything heroic. I do think it's a good idea that you sit up more often.”

“I want to get out of here and help out.”

“Making sure you're strong enough not to fall down face-first would help everyone out a lot,” Frank inserted.

Jack glared at Frank.

Alaina laughed. “You two are worse than Missy and Sam.”

“I heard that.”

Everyone's attention went to the bed next to Jack, where a sleepy-eyed Sam watched the group. Frank went to his son and hugged him. The two fell into quiet chatter that swelled Alaina's heart. She didn't think she could have borne losing Sam or Missy.

“Am I that easily dismissed?”

She laughed down at Jack. “No.”

He raised her hand to his chest.

“Not at all.”

“Tell me what you've been up to. What it's really like out there.”

The warm feeling melted away. “Why don't you concentrate on getting better?”

His thumb caressed her knuckles. “I hear so much. Bits and pieces. I'm stronger now though, and I want to know what I can do to help. How bad is it?”

Her lip quivered, and she willed herself not to cry. All this time and she'd not given herself much chance to grieve, not that she'd had much time with all the work to be done. But now, looking into Jack's soft blue eyes, the core of self-control crumbled, and she choked on a sob.

Thirty-one

Jack saw the warning signals that tears were impending and pushed himself up. He reached to pull her into his embrace, grateful the dizziness had eased. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and absorbed her emotions. It must have been very bad. Having seen the great swell of water and having fought its current for so long, he should have known, yet he had somehow held hope.

Sam's eyes were round with concern, and Jack gave the boy a smile of reassurance to erase the worry from both Sam and Frank's minds.

Eventually, Alaina pulled back. “I shouldn't be crying. Some have lost everyone in their families.”

Jack pressed his finger to her lips. “Worry for your mother is mixed in with those tears.” He stroked the hair from her face. “Besides, I'm hanging on to you as much as you're hanging on to me. I admit the world is still a little shaky.”

She pressed a hand against his chest. “Lie down. I don't want you to—”

He caught her wrist. “I'm fine, Alaina. I promise.”

“But if you make yourself sick, they might—”

“Shh. Listen to me.” His words were taut with urgency. “I want to get out of here. Walk with me a bit so I can get my strength up.”

She stared into his eyes, and he saw the silent plea in the brown depths. “It's not something you want to see. Johnstown is. . .gone.”

“I've already seen some of it, though it was blurry.” He wanted her to understand. “I need to feel a part of what's going on out there.”

She didn't protest as he slid to the edge of the bed and let his feet dangle and then touch the floor. As soon as his feet made contact, needles of pain shot into his ankles, and he froze his expression so Alaina would not pick up on the pain the effort generated.

When it finally dissipated, he got to his feet. The room spun and dipped. Despite his best efforts, his weakness was evident because Alaina was there in a second, helping to support him. Jack inhaled deeply and let his breath out in a measured exhale.

“Jack, are you sure this is a good idea?”

He pasted on a smile. “If I fall down, just cover me with a blanket.”

“How's your head feel?”

“Better than it has.” He didn't mention the fact that it throbbed terribly now that he was upright.

At Alaina's insistence, he took small steps, knowing her eyes were glued to his face for any sign of weakness.

Lord, help me to do this so she can stop worrying about me.

When they finally reached the entry, Jack prompted Alaina to keep going. “I'm doing pretty good. Let's get outside.” As soon as he emerged into the sunshine, a myriad of odors assaulted his nostrils and almost drove him to his knees.

Alaina immediately jumped into action and directed him toward an empty crate. “Sit.”

“It's terrible,” he murmured.

“It's worse up on the hills. What you see down here are mostly visitors who have come in to help. Up on the hill where I've been helping, that's where the people—the survivors—are. They're like lost souls, hollow and empty. Some just stare, others cry, but all of them are afraid, constantly searching for those they lost.”

“I want to see more.” His mind went to Robert. It felt like such a dream. He would never forget Robert's face or the terror of being pulled by an unseen current.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes, I'm sure. And there's something else I need to tell you.”

❧

Alaina listened as Jack talked. At first she had thought he'd simply felt a need to ease his own mind about the nightmare he'd endured, but then his tone changed, and he visibly tensed.

He talked of his ride through Johnstown on his simple plank of wood, being twisted by the ebb and flow of the water and pounded against objects in his way. He paused for breath.

She touched his cheek. “You can tell me the rest later. It's all over with, Jack. You're safe.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and his breathing became ragged. When he pressed her hand against his cheek, it was with greater force than necessary. “You don't understand, Alaina. It was terrible. And there was someone I tried to save. I tried to get him to jump—” His voice broke, and his free hand clenched into a fist. “I never understood what you meant by
‘people mean more than things'
until I saw him.”

She froze, mesmerized by the power of his emotion.

“It all came to me. The job, the inventions. Forgetting you. Saving people—” His jaw clenched, and a storm of emotion darkened his eyes.

“Because you couldn't do anything?”

“No. Because I could, would have, but the pull of the water was too strong. I felt like a rag doll being pulled apart and tossed. I called to him to jump, but he sneered at me. He was afraid. I could hear his fear. Taste it.”

Alaina's mind shuffled through a list of people whom Jack considered friends. “One of the men at Cambria?”

“No.” His face contorted. “No. Robert. I was trying to save Robert.”

Alaina sat stunned. She turned her hand in his and twined them.

“He wouldn't listen. The house moved and it. . .it
twisted.
My head hurt so much, but I knew I had to get Robert off that roof.”

Her heart lifted as she began to understand what it was Jack was trying to tell her.

“It sucked me away from him and I—I don't know. I think I yelled at him one more time to jump, but it was gone. He was gone.” He released her hand and covered his face. “I floated for a long time, and all I could think was that I'd been so wrong. So dumb. Selfish.” He lowered his hands, his red, swollen eyes searching hers. “I knew, then, how much Frank was right.”

“Frank?”

For the first time, the semblance of a smile curved Jack's lips. “Yes. He told me I was an idiot. That I was treating you badly. I kept defending myself and everything that I was doing, thinking that was somehow more important. Having money. . .” He lifted his eyes to the devastation. “I see it now.”

“Oh, Jack.”

He turned to her and cupped her face. “Can you forgive me? For all those times I put riches ahead of your heart?”

“You thought what you were doing was right.”

Jack pressed a finger against her lips. “Don't defend me. I hurt you. Not once, not twice, but again and again and again. So determined to have money that I never once listened to what you told me so often. You didn't want to be rich.”

She pressed her hand against his. “I still don't.”

“Then marry me, Alaina. Marry me, and this time I'll get it right.”

Thirty-two

June 9, 1889

After another good night's sleep, Jack accompanied Alaina to the clearinghouse again. They scoured the names for any sign of Charlotte Morrison, but still no one had registered by that name.

Alaina closed her eyes in defeat.

“You left directions where you're staying. Frank'll find you. Give the rescue workers and Frank some more time,” Jack murmured.

He was right, of course. She'd made sure a nurse at the temporary hospital and one at the Red Cross hospital knew where to find her, but days had passed, and she was more worried than ever that Frank had lost heart because the news wasn't good.

And then there was Jack's proposal. He had recognized her hesitation and been sensitive to her reasoning in waiting for news of her mother. But his actions went a long way toward proving his sincerity. He sought her out every morning to check on her, then went off to work at the bridge to help clean up the terrible mass of wreckage.

If only she could say “yes” and feel clear, but she didn't.

“You've got that look again,” Jack said softly, his eyes shining their concern. “I told you, Alaina, I'll wait for you. You're right to want news of your mother.”

She sighed. “It seems so wrong to feel happy in times like these.”

Jack's gaze drifted toward the wreckage at the bridge and over to Cambria Iron. She saw his Adam's apple bob and knew he understood.

Even almost a week since the tragedy, there was still so much grief and chaos. Fear of disease ran rampant. The stench in the air was almost unbearable. So many people had come in from other areas of the country that familiar faces were too few and far between.

Unless you went to the morgue or hospital.

Alaina patted Jack's arm. “I need to check on Sam, then get over to the tent.”

Jack nodded and touched her cheek briefly. “You know where I'll be.”

She smiled at the tenderness in his eyes, and thankfulness washed through her that God had spared Jack. “I know.” She paused, then said, “I love you, Jack Kelly.”

❧

When Jack came to the tent for supper, he took a moment to watch Alaina, as he had watched her all those days ago at the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club.

She bent next to a small child and tried to coax a smile from the boy's solemn mouth. She plucked bread from the dishpan she carried and set it on the table. The boy nibbled on the edges and continued to watch Alaina as she talked, engaging the small group of children in some story or another.

His day had been long. The dynamite used to blow apart the debris at the bridge had done the job, but the mess had to be hauled away, long, muscle-aching work. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. To make things worse, his head still beat a dull throb against his skull, making every movement that much more painful.

But watching Alaina, he took comfort in her beauty and gentleness, her faith and the fervency with which she worked. Why hadn't he seen it before? She emptied herself to help other people and never expected much in return. She'd done it by loving him, even as he had shunned her.

When Alaina spotted him, she gave him bread, while another woman set a succulent slice of ham in front of him. Yet another lady arrived to ladle coffee into a tin cup.

He caught Alaina's eye. “You'll sit with me, right?”

“I can't. There are so many others who need—”

The woman ladling out the coffee nodded toward another girl. “Liz just came in. Take a break and talk to the nice young man.” Her eyes held a twinkle as she stared between Alaina and Jack. “It'll do us all some good to see that life goes on.”

Jack took his time eating, the background noise of hammers and axes, whistles and bells, and the crackling of the bonfires a constant reminder of the tragedy. Still, Jack was thankful for the noise and preferred to think of what it meant. Progress. Rebuilding.

He savored every bite and every minute he could be with Alaina. But no matter how comforted he felt in her presence, another harsh reality kept nibbling at him. What would he do? Cambria would be up and running again, he was sure, but did he want to stay here? It seemed right to start over. Fresh. Away from the misery. If Charlotte lived, they could take her with them. If not, it might be even greater wisdom for him to get Alaina away from here.

But where?

“Money is pouring in from all over to help Johnstown rebuild,” Alaina offered.

“So I've heard. They're paying the new men two dollars a day.”

Alaina shifted in her seat and poked a bite of ham with her fork. “What will it be like after all this? Will Johnstown be the same?”

“I think that's the question on everyone's mind. It's been on mine a lot.”

“Do you want to work for Cambria again?”

He thought of the promotion and of Robert's attitude when he got it over Jack. Where hot anger used to consume him at the thought of being passed over, and where once his anger spilled out on Robert, now there seemed nothing but a chasm, devoid of all feeling save one. Sorrow.

It dawned on him then that he didn't know the answers. No one did. But his faith would carry him through each day. One at a time.

“All I know right now is that I want to help. To see people rebuild and get back on their feet. From there, I'll let the Lord lead.”

His peripheral vision caught a familiar figure. He turned in time to see Frank duck into the tent and gaze around at the people. Jack raised his hand to indicate to his friend where they sat. He flicked a glance at Alaina and saw the instant strain tighten her lips.

The big man negotiated through the tables and dropped into a chair beside Jack.

“It's about time you showed your face. You've had Alaina worried.”

Frank grimaced and rubbed his leg. “It's been a long haul. I stopped to help some along the way, and it delayed me. When I got there, it took me a while to go 'round and see who of the Johnstown folk was there.” His eyes shifted to Alaina. Dark and piercing.

Jack tensed.

“I found your mother.”

Alaina gasped and closed her eyes.

Frank rushed on. “But it's not good, Alaina. She's. . .” The big man licked his lips and stabbed a panicked look at Jack.

Alaina opened her eyes. A question hung there.

“She doesn't remember anything, and she doesn't say much. It's like it stole something from her.”

Jack reached a hand out to clasp Alaina's, but she pushed to her feet, her face set. “I must go see her. Frank, you'll take me to her. Jack?”

It seemed to him in that moment that she would shatter completely.

“I'll take you there,” Frank promised.

Jack rose and rounded the end of the table. He stood close to Alaina and pressed her cold hands between his warm ones. “Seeing you will bring her back. I'm sure of it, sweetheart.”