Summer 1888 - Johnstown, Pennsylvania
Summer 1888 - Johnstown, PennsylvaniaHe was there, but she didn"t see him. Like a watermark on paper, it would have been so clear if she had looked, but her eyes were on the lake. Maggie MacLaren sat on a fence at the edge of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, like an indigenous specimen perched in repose. A young woman, barely nineteen, she wore comfortable brown shoes caked with dirt, a sensible gabardine skirt, and a crisp shirtwaist fastened at the neck with a cameo pin she had purchased from Woolworth’s. Honey brown curls hung untended over forehead and cheek as she gripped the rail with her fingers. Miles from the rumble of the iron mill below, she could see clearly enough to envision a life far from billowing smoke.
The windless surround
