Forbidden Love (16 page)

She scanned the article again. So the Amalgamated Association would have its annual convention in
Pittsburgh
several weeks from now. That might be a good time to visit the city . . . and if only she could, to see Owen.

* * *

Days later, while Lisa was writing a letter to her cousin in
Philadelphia
, Mary entered the room with a pile of freshly-laundered clothes. She stumbled as she went about her task, her eyes red from weeping.

Lisa looked up in surprise. "Why, Mary, what's wrong? Are you ill?"

Setting the pile of clothes on top of the dresser, Mary brushed her hand across her eyes. "Oh, ma'am, my brother works at the mill in
Homestead--
"

Homestead
!

"--and there's talk of a strike there. Ma'am, I'm that worried about my brother. He belongs to the Amalgamated, and if that Frick
don't
give the steelworkers what they want . . ." Her voice trembled, and she stopped to take a breath. "If that Frick
don't
give in to the workers, then the union will strike, and Frank will be out of a job."

Lisa thought quickly, aiming for a sense of fairness, yet not wanting to increase the maid's agitation. "Mary, are you sure the union's demands are justified?"

"Ma'am?"

"Do you think they are right in their demands?"

"Yes,
indade
, ma'am!
Those men work such long hours for such little pay, and it's hard work, too . . . all that heat and steel dust . . . And oh, ma'am, I don't know what's
gonna
happen." With quick, jerky movements, she started opening drawers and putting clothes away, as if afraid she'd said too much.

"I know it's easier said than done, but try not to worry. I 'm sure the union and the company can come to some agreement," Lisa said, hoping to inject encouragement in her voice, although she doubted her words.

"
Mebbe
."

After the maid had left, Lisa sat at her desk for countless minutes, giving careful consideration to Mary's worries. Anything that affected the union touched Owen, and she wondered if she'd been unfair in her previous arguments against the Amalgamated.

Countless minutes later, she resumed her letter, scarcely able to concentrate when she could think only of Owen. She realized how much he wanted to go to the university and become a civil engineer, but if the union struck, he wouldn't be earning any money. If he lost his job, what would happen to him?
And his dream?

Chapter Eleven

Lisa's heart raced as she fingered her amber necklace, giving herself one final look in the cheval mirror. Ever since she'd read in the
Pittsburgh Times
about the Amalgamated convention, she thought only of seeing Owen again. Today was the day! A frown replaced the smile as she smoothed her hand down the front of her sepia linen dress with its black
soutache
on the bodice and shoulders. For the first time in her life, she wished she were beautiful, everything Owen could possibly want in a woman.

But will I see him today?
she
asked herself for the hundredth time. She pushed that nagging thought aside, refusing to admit the possibility of failure. Reluctant to deprive him of any benefit he'd gain from the convention, she timed her departure from home to see him in the late afternoon. She hoped with all her heart he'd still be at the hotel.

This one day, she'd forget she was a married lady from Shadyside, that Owen was a steelworker. She'd pretend he was a prosperous businessman and lived in the grandest mansion for miles around, that they were to wed soon.

Lisa touched the necklace again--for courage, perhaps--and admired the way the lustrous brown beads caught the brilliant sunlight that poured through the bedroom window. Surely she looked her best! She stuck a diamond pin through her straw hat and gathered her things together, then left for the city.

* * *

Nodding to other steelworkers he recognized, Owen found an empty chair in the hotel's crowded meeting room, amidst a multitude of voices swelling in the room as the men conferred among
themselves
and waited for this afternoon session to begin. These Amalgamated men had come, not only from the boroughs near
Pittsburgh
, but as far away as Chicago and
Gary
,
Indiana
, to show their support for the local
Homestead
lodges. And that's just as well, Owen reflected, because the skilled workers would need all the support they could get. More and more, it looked as if a strike was inevitable.

As much as union problems troubled him, he couldn't drive Lisa from his mind, she of the radiant brown hair and gentle voice, those honeyed lips he longed to kiss again and again. To have her beside him, here, now . . . Giving himself a mental shake, Owen forced himself to listen to the speaker.

One of the local union leaders, James Fitzgerald, stood in front of the assembly. "Why have we all gathered here today?" he asked rhetorically. "Is there anyone here who does not understand the wage question? We must strive for what is rightfully ours. We must let Henry Clay Frick know that we will not give in, that we will not surrender--"

Loud applause interrupted his speech, and he waited for the noise to subside.

Owen contemplated the possibility of a strike, yet such persistent images of Lisa taunted him that everything else vanished from his mind, until only Lisa remained. How he wanted her near him, longed to hold her in his arms, ached to press her body close. He recalled their last time together, the kisses they’d shared,
the
warmth of her soft breast beneath his hand. He sighed deeply. He must forget this lady, this unattainable woman so far out of reach.

With the words of the speech echoing faintly in his brain, he opened his eyes and strained to bring his mind back to the present.

"Today is Sunday," Fitzgerald was saying, "and we'd all like to be home with our families, but we are here today . . ."

Owen shifted his position on the hard-backed chair, imagining Lisa as his wife and several children to give them joy. If only he'd met her ages ago . . . before her marriage to
Enright
. He pictured her and their children in a fine brick home with a fireplace in every room

and
many servants, so that Lisa would never have to work. His thoughts soared as he envisioned taking Lisa to bed, making fierce love with her.

He moved restlessly in his chair, resolved to evict these painful fantasies from his mind. Only in his daydreams would she share his bed, and more than anything in this life, he yearned to make those dreams come true.

Enthusiastic clapping and shouts of encouragement for the union resounded in the room, punctuated with catcalls against Frick and Carnegie. Owen joined in the applause, telling himself he must keep his thoughts on the union as he filed from the room with the others.

* * *

Lisa looked everywhere in the hotel lobby, wondering how she could ever find Owen among all these dark-suited men. What if he isn't here?
she
agonized, biting her bottom lip.
Please let me see him today
. She observed other women in the spacious room, and even an occasional child scampering about, but she didn't see the one person she'd come to meet.

Dear God, had she made this trip for nothing? All around her, she heard cheers for
Homestead
and jeers for Frick and Carnegie. The voices echoed from wall to wall, so many it seemed as if thousands of people had collected in the lobby.

"Just let Frick try to reduce our wages," one steelworker bellowed, "just let him try it. Why, we'll shut down the mill so fast, it'll make your head spin."

"You tell '
em
!" another worker answered. "We're not
gonna
let Frick push us around.
To hell with Frick!"

Lisa eased her way among the potted ferns and marble columns, turning her head this way and that, her eyes burning from the cigar smoke that clouded the air. Dryness parched her mouth. Her heart plummeted as she realized the futility of her trip. Catching the sidelong glances of the men, she managed a smile and adjusted the angle of her hat. A lump formed in her throat. She must admit defeat, go on home and--

And there he was at a far corner of the lobby, in the center of a group of steelworkers. Her heart raced faster, faster, faster, until she had to grasp a plant stand, fearful she'd faint with joy. Even from where she stood, she observed the dark lock of hair that always fell across his forehead. His face, now tanned from the summer sun, revealed the gravity with which he viewed union concerns and typified the solemnity he brought to every matter that touched him. No casual indifference from this man!

What would he think when he saw her? With a mental shrug, she refused to worry about it. She was with him now, or would be soon, and nothing else mattered. As she gathered her courage, her throat went dry and her hands shook as she headed in his direction. . . .

For Owen, the day's proceedings had been predictable, no surprises here. As anyone would've guessed, every discussion concerned a possible strike at
Homestead
. Could a strike be averted?
the
men around him wanted to know. Was there a chance that Frick and Carnegie might give in to the workers? And if the local union did strike, how long could the men hold out against the company?

"Gentlemen," Owen said as he glanced from one man to the next, "we intend to hold out until hell freezes over, if necessary. Don't ever think we'll give in to the comp--"

Lisa! He blinked his eyes, unable to believe this lovely vision. His heart lurched. What in God's name was she doing in the hotel? Lisa, who meant more to him than anything or anyone else in the world, and she was here!

"Will you excuse me, gentlemen?" he said with a slight bow as he exited the group, ignoring stunned looks. His heart pounded as he made his way toward her, and he didn't care if the other men saw him as a lovesick fool.

As Lisa watched him approach, their eyes met, the rest of the world locked out. She couldn't move, not one step. She could only stare as he wove his way among the clusters of men in this vast room, a look of single-minded purpose on his face. In no time, he covered the space between them and arrived at a marble column to take her gloved hand in his. She saw the warmth in his gray eyes, all her doubts vanishing.

"Lisa . . ."

"Owen . . ."

They both began talking at once,
then
laughed at their foolishness.

"You, first."
He smiled as he released her gloved hand.

"I . . . I was
downtown,
and . . ." She shrugged and made a helpless little gesture. What a brazen hussy he must think her.

"And?"

"And I . . ." She shook her head and started again, speaking with determination. "I won't pretend that it's a coincidence that I happened to be here at this time. You wouldn't believe me, would you?" She saw him slowly shake his head, and she continued, her voice assuming a desperate note. "I read about your convention in the newspaper, and I . . . wanted to see you," she said, her breath catching in her throat.

She should never have doubted him. Bending his head close to hers, he touched her elbow, sending a rush of heat throughout her body. "Let's go someplace where we can be alone." He placed his hand under her elbow to lead her past the crowd in the lobby. "I want you all to myself."

"I'd like that too, but don't you have more meetings this afternoon?"

Owen flicked his fingers. "We've finished with most of the important meetings. There's only one remaining, and Hugh O'Donnell and the other union men can fill me in on that later. Besides," he said with a look that erased every apprehension from her mind, "you mean more to me than any convention."

Resting her hand in the crook of his elbow, Lisa absorbed his body warmth, the absolute joy in his nearness. He led her away from the press of people as he greeted other workers, observing the startled glances of the men.