A Promise for Tomorrow (28 page)

“Well, it doesn’t get managed by me, either,” Virginia said. Then without giving it much thought, she downed the contents of her glass. “Hampton runs things quite well without my help.”

“I very much doubt that.” Seeing they were getting nowhere, Margaret nodded her head toward the letter. “Who is that from?”

“Carolina. It’s for the family,” Virginia said, as if she felt the need to explain why she was reading the missive.

“And what has she to say?”

Virginia shrugged again. “Her perfect life is a little less perfect because she’s chosen to move to the Allegheny wilderness. But no doubt she’ll have everyone civilized and set in proper order before summer.”

Margaret chuckled. “Yes, I suppose she might at that. Why don’t you tell me about it, or read it to me if you like.”

“Well,” Virginia began, glancing back down to the letter, “the tunnel that James is working on is well under way. They are having trouble with some of the laborers. Irish laborers.” She looked up at Margaret as if to emphasize this latter bit of news. “They had a spell of fighting and such, but it seems to be under control for the time.” She looked back down at the paper. “Carolina says the house they live in is quite primitive compared to what they had in Baltimore or here at Oakbridge. They arrived to find it with dirt floors, but James has since arranged for wood planking, and when the freight routes aren’t quite so muddy, they intend to have a proper floor put in.”

“How are the children?” Margaret asked, trying to picture the scene in Greigsville.

“They are all well. Victoria is now thirteen, and Carolina says she has her eye on some young man there. Carolina thinks she is much too young to consider such things but admits that with few women in the area and Victoria being such a beauty, the attention was bound to be there, even if her interest were not stirred.”

“Probably very true,” Margaret said, smiling to herself. She could well imagine Carolina’s concerns.

“Brenton and Jordana are well. Carolina says it is a full-time job just trying to school the three of them, but plans are already under way to build a school. Victoria has little interest in studious work, while Brenton—” she paused to read a passage from the paper—“ ‘Brenton is ever his father’s son. He strives to learn all manner of subjects and even asked to be taken to the tunnel site so he could learn about black-powder blasting.’ ”

Margaret grew teary eyed at the thought of the grandchildren she’d not yet had the privilege to know. Virginia stopped abruptly, an expression of grave concern on her face.

Margaret waved her handkerchief. “I’m fine, honestly I am. I’m just a bit sad for the time I’ve lost. So many children have come into this family while I continued to mourn the passing of my two.” She wiped at her eyes and smiled. “I’ve a great deal to make up for.”

“Maybe I should pour you a drink,” Virginia offered.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Margaret replied, realizing that this was how Virginia dealt with her problems. “I suppose I am just now coming to see how much time I wasted on things of little importance. When I was young, I worried about what society thought of me, and of whether or not I was involving myself in just the right causes, for the proper amount of time and effort.”

Virginia looked at her as though her words made little or no sense, so Margaret continued. “When Mary and Penny died it was simply too much for me to deal with. I withdrew into my own world in order to protect myself from the pain. Much as you drink your sherry to ease your own pain.”

Virginia flushed but didn’t deny her mother’s words. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the letter on her lap, as if looking at her mother would require her to deal with the truth of the matter.

“Virginia,” Margaret whispered her name and reached out to touch her daughter’s hand, “I cannot express to you how sorry I am for the time we’ve lost. I feel if only I had been stronger, I might never have fallen apart and been forced to desert my still-living children.”

“How can you say that?” said Virginia. “You were the best mother we could have had. It wasn’t your fault things happened as they did. You were—are—a good Christian woman. You worshiped regularly at church, helped the poor, arranged charities for the orphans. Why, you even prayed with us nightly when we were small children. God should have protected you better.”

“God can be blamed no more than I should blame myself. Things happen as they will. But even if I shouldn’t take the blame, I do feel regret—I just can’t help it. I had completely missed the importance of living on more than pretense and deeds.”

“I don’t understand.”

Margaret thought for a moment. “I suppose it is difficult to put into words. I wanted everyone to think well of me, and so I did the things I thought would bring me praise and admiration. I worked hard to make my ‘goodness,’ if that’s what we should call it, apparent. I wanted people to see me as the perfect wife and mother— the perfect hostess and social matron. These things became more important than simple faith in God.”

“But you no longer think they are?” Virginia asked, surprised.

“No, Virginia dear, I don’t.” Margaret smiled.

But Virginia was bewildered. “I still don’t understand. You don’t think it matters at all what people think?”

“Yes, I suppose to some extent it does, but that cannot be the basis for a firm foundation of faith. I lost sight of what was important. I may have even lost sight of God. And there were times that I did as I pleased, knowing full well I was being willful. There were even times I opposed your father, although I knew him to be right.

I thought I knew what was right, but when troubled times came, my foundation crumbled. Much like yours has.”

Virginia grimaced and stiffened. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Yes, you probably are,” Margaret agreed. “But I do worry about what the sherry might do to you.”

“I only use it to calm me.”

“But it doesn’t calm you. Not really. I can’t see where it has benefited you at all. You are worn out and exhausted. You look to have aged at least ten years beyond your time, and although I’ve been home for just over three weeks, I have yet to see you smile.”

“I don’t have anything to smile about. I have a horrible marriage, three bratty children, and another child on the way. I live here as a virtual prisoner of my husband’s will, and frankly I don’t understand why God has done this thing to me.”

Margaret eyed her intently. “Why God has done this? How do you suppose this is something God has done? Did you or did you not choose to elope with Hampton Cabot without your father’s consent?”

Virginia tried to mask her pain. “Go ahead and blame me. Everyone else does.”

“I’m not trying to blame you for anything, but neither do I want you to blame God for something that you clearly took out of His hands.”

“You can’t take anything out of God’s hands,” Virginia retorted haughtily. “He is God, after all.”

“Yes, but He has also given us the free will to either choose or reject Him and His ways. Just as your father and I tried to raise you to hold a certain set of standards as truth, we also realize that you will pick and choose what you will. All we could do was set that standard before you. You had the free will to decide whether or not those standards were acceptable to you.”

“Marrying Hampton seemed the right thing at the time,” Virginia offered weakly.

“Did it really?”

Virginia lowered her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“All right. If that’s what you truly want.” Margaret got up to go, then changed her mind and sat down beside Virginia on the lounge. “I only want you to know how very much I love you. The mistakes of the past are unimportant when it comes to how much I care about you and your happiness.”

At this, Virginia looked up. Her eyes overflowed with tears. “You needn’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve it.”

Margaret opened her arms to pull Virginia into her embrace. Her daughter stiffened and tried to pull away, but Margaret held her fast. “I love you, Virginia.” At this, Virginia broke down and sobbed.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore. I just don’t want to live.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Margaret soothed. “I had much the same feelings once.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Virginia said, pulling away. “You don’t know what it’s like—what I’m going through.”

“I may not know all of the details, but I recognize the pain.” Margaret reached up and touched Virginia tenderly. “You may not believe this, but I swear to you that it is true. Your peace will come when you take your focus off of all that is wrong and painful to you and put it back on God. He longs to ease your miseries, Virginia. You can count on His love to be real and true and faithful, even when mankind fails you.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Virginia said, trying to wipe her tears. “But I’ve listened to religious discussions all of my life. It didn’t keep you from having troubles.”

“I didn’t say it would. The Bible tells us that in this world we will have trouble,” Margaret replied. “But it also adds that we can be of good cheer because God has already overcome for us.”

“But troubles will still come, is that it?”

“Most likely.”

Virginia shook her head. “Sounds like something people use to comfort themselves when the bad times come. ‘Oh, God is with you—take heart.’ But still you suffer and still the heartaches come. Mother, I wish I could have your faith, but I’ve seen too much. I know too much now to go back to that naïve little girl I used to be.”

Margaret’s heart ached for her child. If only she could find a way to help her see the truth. “I will pray for you, my darling. And perhaps you can pray, too.”

“I can’t,” Virginia said, getting to her feet. “I can’t even begin to find the words.”

Margaret nodded. “When I was at the asylum, I was much the same way. I had a wonderful nurse who used to pray for me. She said it was like the story of the paralyzed man who didn’t have a way to get to Jesus, so his friends did it for him, lowering him through the roof. Do you remember that story?” Virginia nodded. “I will do that for you now. I will take you to Jesus in prayer.”

She got up to stand beside Virginia, then leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “It will get better.”

Virginia’s face contorted and the look seemed to say she wanted to believe her mother, but doubt and past experience left her hesitant.

“You’ll see,” Margaret assured her. “With God, all things are possible.”

26
The Strike

Carolina was the first to hear the pounding that signaled someone at the back door of the house. Groggily, she shook her husband and heard him moan in recognition of her touch.

“James, someone is knocking at the kitchen door.”

“Huh?”

She shook his shoulder again. “James, listen. Someone is raising quite a ruckus downstairs. Miriam is probably half out of her wits.”

“All right,” James replied, sleepily sitting up.

Carolina had already slipped from the warmth of her bed to don her robe. “Hurry, James. It must be very important if they’re waking us up before sunrise.”

By this time, James was starting to come fully awake. “It had better be important,” he muttered. “I feel like my head barely touched the pillow.”

They hurried downstairs and met Miriam coming upstairs to find them.

“Don’t know who’d be a-callin’ at this hour,” Miriam told James as he took the lighted lamp from her hands.

“Who is it?” James questioned before opening the door.

“Kiernan. Please hurry and let me in.”

James opened the door. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’d not have come if it weren’t important.” Kiernan took his cap off and twisted it nervously in his hands. “I had to warn ya.”

“Warn me of what?”

“There’s gonna be trouble at the tunnel today. Ya’d do best to stay here and let matters resolve themselves without interferin’.”

“What sort of trouble are we talking about?” James questioned.

Carolina felt her heart in her throat. Trouble had already reared its head on more than one occasion, but for the past month things had been peaceful, almost serene. After the November riots a few of the ringleaders had been caught and arrested. But others, including Red, had eluded arrest and, after a time, had returned to work. For the sake of the work, the bosses had been willing to let things slide. Moreover, they feared if they fired Red, all the other Connaughtmen, who made up the majority of the work force, would quit in protest, leaving construction seriously delayed.

Had they all been lulled into a false sense of security? The contractors had even declared that there was no longer a need for the armed guards hired to watch over the Kingwood Tunnel after the last November riots and had let them go. But now for Kiernan to feel the need to risk his own safety in order to warn James, Carolina knew the trouble must be serious, and it left her feeling weak in the knees. Without the armed patrolmen, they would be at the mercy of the Irish.

“Red said the men are gonna strike, but because a great many of the Corkians will be against the Connaughts in this matter, he’ll have to convince them.”

“In other words, he plans to beat them into submission, is that it?” James fairly growled the words.

“Ya know me brother well.”

“Well, it makes no sense to me that you people have to fight each other. At any rate, I’ll not stand idly by and watch work on the tunnel come to a standstill. We’ve got a railroad to build, and I’ll be hanged if I let Red O’Connor dictate the course of our plans.”

“He won’t like your interferin’,” Kiernan said quite seriously.

Carolina knew that he spoke the truth. She’d heard only too many horror stories about people who crossed Red O’Connor. Mostly she’d been made aware of the conflicts through other wives. Some had experienced his wrath firsthand when Red had beaten their husbands and threatened to burn down their shanties.

“Go on back, Kiernan,” James said. “I don’t want you getting yourself in trouble. No doubt Red would forget that you’re a Connaughtman, and his brother at that, if he found out you were warning me.”

“ ’Tis true enough,” Kiernan admitted, “but in a way, I’m just tryin’ to protect Red, as well. He’ll never see it for himself. Mebbe when he’s hangin’ from a noose he might understand, but I doubt it.”