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to go down with the Hensleys for dinner or something. I’m sorry I didn’t show up.”
    She closed her eyes. “Again.”
    He gave a solemn nod. “Yes. Again. Mr. Fulton called me to his office quite unexpectedly.”
    She brushed coal ash from the train off his sleeve. It smeared and clung. “You have ash all over you.”
    â€œUm,” he mumbled against her hair.
    Her mind jumped back and forth between her need to apologize and her pique at Jack’s certainty that an apology was always going to be enough. She drew in a deep breath and swallowed, her words flowing on her exhale. “I should apologize as well. As much as I love Mary, she talks too much and tells Robert everything.”
    Jack drew away but held on to her hand. He glanced toward the stairs. “You’re done for the evening?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œLet’s take a walk before I head back.”
    â€œWhat made you take the train?”
    His eyes searched hers. “I knew I needed to get here to make up for yesterday.” His finger traced the ridge of her knuckles. “I wanted to be here.”
    She felt her tension dissipate at his tender touch. “I have good news. The Hensleys are leaving next Wednesday and won’t be back for a month.”
    â€œA month?”
    â€œA whole month,” she said. “I can start planning our wedding.”
    Jack blinked, the ghost of a frown pulled on his lips.
    â€œJack?”
    â€œI’ll have to test my new theory. I’m really hoping this time it will work. I could have enough money for us to buy a decent home.”
    â€œI don’t mind living in Cambria City.”
    â€œ I mind.” He released her hand.
    Alaina watched as he turned his back and crossed to the parlor doorway, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. This core of determination she often felt in his character was the root cause for his driving himself, she was sure. But other than his oft-told story of being raised by a poor mother after his father left them, she never could glimpse the reason why he was so adamant they not live in Cambria City. He might have been raised poor, but so had she. At first she thought Jack’s reasons were based on pride, but Jack never condescended to any of his friends who lived in the small city where employees of Cambria Iron Works rented homes. To remind him she didn’t mind being poor would be wasted words. So she waited.
    He stared into the parlor for several minutes before he returned to her and raised her left hand so their hands touched, palm to palm. His gaze commanded her attention. “I have to do this, Alaina. For me.”

Five
    Johnstown, May 15, 1889
    Alaina slipped into her mother’s room, drawn by the snuffling snores and the promise of momentary peace her mother’s slumber afforded. Charlotte Morrison slept on her back, hair bundled severely into a long braid. Smoothed by sleep, the etched frown lines could not lend her mother the perpetual sour look.
    She debated whether to waken her mother and announce her presence. Tired from the day and the hustle of packing the Hensleys off, Alaina decided to wait. She had sent word last week that she would be home tonight. Apparently her mother had forgotten. She blinked back the burn of tears that threatened and released a sigh of pent-up frustration. She skimmed her mother’s left hand and saw the slight, unnatural curl of the fingers grown sore from constant needlework.
    Oh, Mother.
    Alaina ran a gentle finger over her mother’s hand and felt the roughness of skin chafed by the yards of material she measured out and sewed every day. “You work so hard,” she whispered. Her mother’s body flinched, and Alaina withdrew from the room on catlike feet and shut the door. She began to rehearse how to best tell her mother the news of her engagement.
    Sleep eluded her. She wished Jack could have seen her home, but his shift at Cambria ended too