The baby cried again. Matt clenched his fists and tried to hold on to his patience. The infant wasn’t the only irritation, either. A little girl, five or so, was standing on the seat in front of his, staring at him.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Scrooge.”
“My name’s Kate.”
“Shouldn’t you be sitting down, Kate?” he asked pointedly, hoping the kid’s mother heard him and took action. She didn’t.
“It’s going to be Christmas tomorrow,” she said, ignoring his question.
“So I hear.” He attempted to look busy, too busy to be bothered.
The kid didn’t take the hint.
“Santa Claus is coming to Grandma’s house.”
“Wonderful.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to stare?”
“No.” The kid flashed him an easy smile. “I can read.”
“Good for you.”
“Do you want me to read you How the Grinch Stole Christmas? It’s my favorite book.”
“No.”
An elderly black couple sat across the aisle from him. The woman scowled disapprovingly, her censure at his attitude toward the kid obvious. “Why don’t you read to her?” Matt suggested, motioning to the woman. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You’re working?” shrieked Kate-the-pest.
“Yes,” came his curt reply, “or trying to.” He couldn’t get any blunter than that.
“Can I read you my story?” Kate asked the biddy across the aisle from him. Matt flashed the old woman a grin. Served her right. Let her deal with the kid. All Matt wanted was a few moments’ peace and quiet while he mulled over what was going to happen once he got home.
Some kind of commotion went on in front of him. The little girl whimpered, and he felt a sense of righteousness. Kate’s mother had apparently put her foot down when the kid tried to climb out of her seat. Good, now maybe she’d leave him and everyone else alone. If he’d been smart he would have pretended he was asleep like the man sitting next to him.
“Mom said I have to stay in my seat,” Kate said, tears glistening as she peered over the cushion at him. All he could see was her watery blue eyes and the top of her head with a fancy red bow.
Matt ignored her.
“Santa’s going to bring me a—”
“Listen, kid, I don’t care what Santa’s bringing you. I’ve got work to do and I don’t have time to chat with you. Now kindly turn around and stop bothering me.”
Kate frowned at him, then plunked herself back in her seat and started crying.
Several people condemned him with their eyes, not that it concerned Matt. If they wanted to entertain the kid, fine, but he wanted no part of it. He had more important things on his mind than what Santa was bringing a spoiled little brat with no manners.
The train had been stopped for about five minutes. “Where are we now?” Kelly asked, gently rocking Brittany in her arms. The baby had fussed the entire time they’d been on the train. Nothing Kelly did calmed her. She wasn’t hungry; her diaper was clean. Kelly wondered if she might be teething. A mother was supposed to know these things, but Kelly could only speculate.
It helped that the train was becoming less crowded. With the storm, people seemed to be short-tempered and impatient. The guy who looked like a salesman was the worst; in fact, he was downright rude. She felt sorry for Kate and her mother. Kelly appreciated what it must be like traveling alone with a youngster. She’d never be able to do this without Nick. Frankly, she didn’t know how anyone could travel with a baby and no one to help. An infant required so much stuff. It took hours just to organize and pack it all.
“According to the sign, we’re in Abbott, New Hampshire,” Nick informed her.
Kelly glanced out the window, through the still-falling snow. “Oh, Nick, look! This is one of those old-fashioned stations.” The redbrick depot had a raised platform with several benches tucked protectively against the side, shielded from the snow by the roof’s overhang. A ticket window faced the tracks and another window with many small panes looked into the waiting room.
“Hmm,” Nick said, not showing any real interest.
“It’s so quaint.”
He didn’t comment.
“I didn’t know they had any of these depots left anymore. Do you think we could get off and look around a bit?”
She captured his attention with that. “You’re joking, right?”
“We wouldn’t have to take everything with us.”
“The baby shouldn’t be out in the cold.”
Her enthusiasm faded. “Of course…she shouldn’t.”
The conductor walked down the center aisle and nodded pleasantly in Kelly’s direction.
“That’s a lovely old depot,” she said.
“One of the last original stations in Rutherford County,” he said with a glint of pride. “Built around 1880. Real pretty inside, too, with a potbellied stove and hardwood benches. They don’t make ’em like this anymore.”
“They sure don’t,” Kelly said, smiling.
“Shouldn’t we be pulling out soon?” the man in the navy uniform asked, glancing at his watch.
“Anytime now,” the conductor promised. “Nothing to worry about on this fine day. Snow or no snow, we’re going to get you folks to Boston.”
Three
“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
“I t’s been twenty minutes,” Len said, straining to see what had caused the delay. Cupping his face with his hands, he pressed against the window and squinted at the station. The snow had grown heavier and nearly obliterated the building from view. The train had been sitting outside the depot in Abbott twice as long as it had at any previous stop. Apparently the powers-that-be didn’t fully grasp the time constraints he and several other passengers were under to reach Logan International. Too much was at stake if he missed his flight.
“I’m sure everything will be all right,” Cathy assured him, but he noticed that she was knitting at a frantic pace. She jerked hard on the yarn a couple of times, then had to stop and rework stitches, apparently because of a mistake.
Len saw that he wasn’t the only one who seemed concerned. The cranky businessman got out of his seat and walked to the end of the compartment. He leaned over to peer out the window at the rear of the train car, as if that would tell him something he didn’t already know.
“Someone’s coming,” he announced in a voice that said he wasn’t going to be easily pacified. He wanted answers, and so did Len. Under normal circumstances Len was a patient man, but this was Christmas Eve and he had an engagement ring in his pocket.
The wind howled and snow blew into the compartment as the elderly conductor opened the door. He stepped quickly inside, then made his way to the front. “Folks, if I could have your attention a moment…”
Even before the man spoke, Len’s gut told him it wasn’t good news.
“We’ve got a problem on the line ahead.”
“What kind of problem?” the sales rep demanded.
“Track’s out.”
A chorus of mumbles and raised voices followed.
The conductor raised his hands and the passengers fell silent. “We’re doing the best we can.”
“How long will it take to get it fixed?” The shout came from a long-haired guy at the front of the car. With his leather headband and fringed jacket, he resembled an overgrown hippie. He sat with a woman whose appearance complemented his—straight center-parted hair that reached the middle of her back and a long flower-sprigged dress under her heavy coat.
The conductor’s face revealed doubt. “Couple of hours, possibly longer. Can’t really say for sure.”
“Hours!” Len exploded.
“We have a plane to catch,” the young father cried, his anger spilling into outrage.
“The airlines arranged for us to be on the train for this?” the businessman shouted, not bothering to disguise his disgust. “We were bette
r off waiting out the storm in Bangor.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Does this podunk town have a car-rental agency?” someone asked. Len couldn’t see who.
“Not right here. There’s one in town, but with the storm, I’d strongly recommend none of you…”
Len didn’t stick around to hear the rest. As best he could figure, he was less than sixty miles from Boston. If he could rent a car, there was a chance he might still make it to the airport on time. Moving faster than he would’ve thought possible, Len reached for his bag and raced off the train.
The moment he jumped onto the depot platform, a sudden blast of cold jolted him. He hunched his shoulders and kept his face down as he struggled against the icy wind to open the door. Not surprisingly, the inside of the depot was as quaint as the outside, with long rows of hardwood benches and a potbellied stove.
The stationmaster looked up as people started to flood inside. Apparently he handled the sale of tickets and whatever was available to buy—a few snack items, magazines, postcards and such. Three phones were positioned against the far wall. One bore an Out of Order sign.
A long, straggling line had already formed in front of the two working phones. Len counted ten people ahead of him and figured he had a fair chance of getting a vehicle until he remembered a friend telling him you needed to be twenty-five to rent one. His hopes sagged yet again. He was a year too young. Discouraged, he dropped out of line.
His nerves twisting, he sat on a hard wooden bench away from the others. It was hopeless. Useless to try. Even if the train had arrived anywhere close to its scheduled time, there was no guarantee he’d actually have a seat on the plane. Because of the storm, the airline had tried to get him on another flight leaving four hours later. But he was flying standby, which meant the only way he would get on board was if someone didn’t show.
The reservation clerk had been understanding and claimed it wasn’t as unlikely as it sounded. According to her, there were generally one or two seats available and he was at the top of the list. It had all sounded promising—and now this.
Cathy Norris sat down on the bench next to him. “I guess I should call my daughter,” she said.
Len didn’t know if she was speaking to him or not. “I suppose I should phone home, too.”
The line for the phones had dwindled to five people. Len rejoined the group and impatiently waited his turn. It seemed to take forever before he was finally able to use the phone. He thought about contacting his parents, but he’d already spoken to them once that day.
Placing the charges on a calling card, he dialed Amy’s number and prayed she was at home.
“Hello.”
His relief at the sound of her soft drawl was enough to make him want to weep. “Hello, Amy Sue.”
“Len?” Her voice rose with happy excitement. “Where are you?” Not giving him time to answer, she continued, “Your mother phoned earlier and said your flight had been canceled. Are you in Boston?”
“Abbott, New Hampshire.”
“New Hampshire? Len, for mercy’s sake, what are you doing there?”
“I wish I knew. The airline put us on a train.”
“Your mother told me about the storm and how they closed the airport and everything,” she said. He was distracted by the people lining up behind him, but her voice sounded…sad, almost as if she knew in advance what he was about to tell her.
“There’s something wrong with the tracks. It’s going to take a couple of hours to repair, so there’s no telling what time I’ll get to Boston.”
“Oh, Len.” Her voice was more breath than sound. “You’re not going to make it home for Christmas, are you?”
He opened his mouth to insist otherwise, but the truth was, he no longer knew. “I want to, but…”
He could feel Amy’s disappointment vibrate through the telephone wire. It was agony to be so far away and not able to hold her. “I’ll do whatever I can to get to the airport on time, but there’s no guarantee. You know I’d do anything to be with you right now, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Amy?” Talking with a lineup of people waiting to use the phone was a little inhibiting.
“I’ll get in touch with your parents and let them know,” she whispered, and her voice broke.
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything,” he said. Then, despite a dozen people eavesdropping on his conversation, he added, “I love you, Amy.”
Unfortunately the line was already dead.
He should phone home, Matt decided, and even waited his turn in the long line that formed outside the telephone booth. He was three people away when he suddenly changed his mind. He had no idea why; then again, maybe he did.
It went without saying that Pam would be furious. He could hear her lambaste him now, and frankly, he wasn’t in the mood for it.
He crossed to one of the vacant benches and sat down. These old seats might look picturesque, but they were a far sight from being comfortable. He shifted his position a number of times, crossed and uncrossed his legs.
As bad luck would have it, the couple with the baby sat directly opposite him. Matt didn’t understand it. He seemed to attract the very people who irritated him most. Thankfully the infant was peacefully asleep in her mother’s arms.
Matt studied the baby, remembering his own children at that age and how happy he and Pam had been in the early years of their marriage. That time seemed distant now. His dissatisfaction with his job didn’t help. He felt as if he was struggling against everything that should make life good—his family, his marriage, his work. As if he stood waist-deep in the middle of a fast-flowing stream, fighting the current.
His wife had no comprehension of the stress he experienced day in and day out. According to her, he went out of his way to make her life miserable. Lately all she did was complain. If he went on the road, she complained; if he was home, she found fault with that, too.
The thought had come to him more than once these past few days that maybe they’d be better off living apart. He hadn’t voiced it, but it was there in the back of his mind. Unhappy as she was, Pam must be entertaining these same thoughts. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d honestly enjoyed each other’s company.
Restless now, he stood and walked about. The depot had filled up, and there wasn’t room enough for everyone to sit. The stationmaster was on the phone, and Matt watched the old man’s facial expressions, hoping to get a hint of what was happening.
The man removed his black hat, frowned, then nodded. Matt couldn’t read anything into that. He waited until the old guy had replaced the receiver. No announcement. Apparently there wasn’t anything new to report. Matt checked his watch and groaned.
Thinking he might be more comfortable back on the train, he hurried outside, rushing through the bone-chilling wind and snow to the security of the train itself. The conductor and other staff had disappeared, Matt didn’t know where. Probably all snug in the comfort of some friend’s home. Not so for the passengers. The wind and snow nearly blinded him. He wasn’t on board more than twenty minutes when the young father hurried inside and reached for a diaper bag tucked under the seat.
“Your first kid?” Matt asked, bored and miserable. A few minutes of conversation might help pass the time. The answer was fairly obvious. He was no expert when it came to infants, but it was clear to him that this couple was far too high-strung about parenthood. To his way of thinking, once these two relaxed, their baby would, too.
The man nodded, then sat down abruptly. “I had no idea it would be like this.”
“Nothing’s the same after you have kids,” Matt said. The train, now that it’d shut down, wasn’t heated, and the piercing cold had quickly permeated the interior.
“Do you have kids?”
“Two,” Matt said, and despite his mood, he grinned. “Matt McHugh.” He held out his hand.
“Nick Berry.”
“This isn’t exactly how I expected
to spend Christmas Eve.”
“Me, neither,” Nick said. He lifted his shoulders and rubbed his bare hands. “If it was up to me, we’d never have left Bangor, but Kelly’s parents haven’t seen the baby yet.”
Matt grunted in understanding.
“I’d better get back inside,” Nick said. “Kelly’s waiting.”
“I might as well go in with you.” It was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to stay on the train much longer. He’d come for peace and quiet and found it not worth the price of having to sit alone in the cold. The temperature wasn’t the only source of discomfort; he didn’t like the turn his thoughts had taken. He didn’t want a divorce, but he could see that was the direction he and Pam were headed.
Matt and Nick sprinted back into the depot just as the stationmaster walked to the center of the room. Nick rejoined his wife and handed her the diaper bag.
“Folks,” the old man said, raising his arms to attract their attention. “My name’s Clayton Kemper and I’m here to give you as much information as I can about the situation.”
“How much longer is this going to take?” the long-haired guy demanded.
“Yeah,” someone else shouted. “When do we get out of here?”
“Now, folks, that’s something I can’t predict. The problem involves more than the storm. The tracks are out.”
His words were followed by low dissatisfied murmurs.
“I realize you’re anxious to be on your way, seeing it’s Christmas Eve and all. But no one can tell us just how long it’ll be before the repairs are finished. Our first estimate was two hours, but the repair crew ran into difficulties.”
The murmurs rose in volume. “We need answers,” Matt said loudly, his fists clenched. “Some of us are booked on flights.”
Clayton Kemper held up his hands. “I’m sorry, folks, I really am, but like I said before, there’s just no way of predicting this sort of thing. It could be another hour…or it could be till morning.”
“Morning!” The grumbling erupted into a flurry of angry shouts.
“What about hotel rooms?” an older man asked, placing a protective arm around the woman beside him.