Chapter 1

Just boarded. Departing soon. She you tomorrow! Daisy Close added an emoji of a train and an excited smiley then pressed send on the text to Maia. Tucking her phone away, she glanced out the window at the busy platform, and then pulled out her well-worn copy of Jane Eyre. An actual paperback book. For a minute she just flipped the pages, savoring the feel of them along her thumb. For a woman who worked with books—editing novels for a living—it was a rare occasion to pick up a paperback and read for pleasure. She was going to have to get some work done during the 36-hour train trip to Seattle to visit her old college roommate. But for a few moments at least, she planned to indulge in one of her all-time favorites.

The coach car of the train was much roomier than coach on an airplane, with only two seats on each side of the aisle and the ability to recline almost completely flat. Taking a long train ride had always been on her unofficial bucket list and here she was, about to depart. For now, the seat next to her was empty, but in the next five minutes, or at any of the twenty or so stops along the way, that could change.

Overhead announcements echoed through the car, but Daisy was already getting lost in her book. She was vaguely aware of the other passengers as they filed down the aisle stashing luggage and filling in seats. With a gentle lurch, the train started rolling. If it hadn’t been for the initial movement and the view of the Los Angeles Union Station passing outside, she wouldn’t know they were moving. The train was much smoother than she expected. And the most serendipitous aspect of the whole thing, she had the row to herself. Nearly every seat in the car was filled and she had two seats for her little old self. Even more room to spread out.

“Wanna let me squeeze past,” said a man at her shoulder.

And just like that, Daisy’s luck was shattered. She never should have gotten her hopes up so soon.

Returning her seat to the upright position, Daisy stood and moved into the aisle, facing forward to avoid seeing the guy who would be her neighbor. With any luck he’d be handsome, strong, and have nothing to do for the next 36 hours other than discuss the classics with her.

She turned to see her new boyfriend and saw … something else completely.  The man was 30-ish, maybe five years older than her, but that was where the compatibility ended. He was unshaven—not sporting a little stubble, which she didn’t like anyway, but downright scruffy. It had probably been as long since he shaved as it had since he’d brushed his hair. And probably longer since he washed his shirt, judging by the food stains on it. Even with the wide aisles and spacious accommodations, he was going to have a hard time squeezing between the seats. Daisy wondered if his girth would spill over and fill part of her seat.

He grunted at her as he lifted one of his backpacks on to her seat and, completely blocking the aisle, started sorting the contents. Daisy couldn’t tell what he was saying. She could only assume he was prepping his bags to put one in the overhead storage and keep one at his seat with him.

So much for her travel boyfriend. Keeping things positive, she imagined a backstory for him. He had probably spent the last year sequestered in a … leper colony? Did they still have those? Sure, why not? And now he was taking some well-deserved time off for himself. That sounded right.

Daisy smiled at him, and took inventory of the rest of the car as her seatmate repacked his belongings. She picked up a rank odor—tofu or blue cheese maybe—and looked around to see which of the other passengers had brought stinky food with them. The coach ticket did not include any meals, so most of the people in her car would be eating food they’d packed along with them.

The people around Daisy were intent on their phones and tablets and naps. No one had food out.

Oh no. That wasn’t food. The smell was being emitted by the man she was about to spend a day and a half with. Her stomach turned over at the image of remnants of rotting flesh from the imaginary leper colony.

Sometimes her active imagination was a curse. How quickly her dream vacation had been chopped up, shoved into the disposal, and blended into a million slimy pieces.

Daisy turned her back on her failed boyfriend and saw the door from the next car slide open.

At the far end of the car, her real travel boyfriend was stepping through the door. Tall, clean cut, bold bearing, and as handsome as Mr. Rochester was plain. Why couldn’t that guy get stuck next to her? Judging by his perfectly cut suit—on a body she couldn’t see much of, but appeared to be perfectly proportioned—he wasn’t riding in the cheap coach seats. Daisy’s eyes started fluttering like some silly girl before she got them under control.

The guy, her new boyfriend, was scanning the train car as if he was playing Where’s Waldo. The grin on his lips seemed to say, Life is good. His eyes slid over the contents of the car without stopping on anything … until they caught on Daisy’s eyes, where he paused like a sprinkler reaching the end of its swivel.

We met on a train. When I looked into his eyes, everyone else on the train evaporated like mist. The aisle was a mile long, but as we stood still, locked in a gaze, the magnetism between us brought us speeding together as the distance shrunk in an instant. He put his hands on my shoulders and—

Her boyfriend pulled his gaze away, continuing his scan of the compartment and giving Daisy whiplash.

Sometimes she wrote little snippets of her life—okay, snippets of the fantasy she wished was her life—inside her head, and she’d been way too deep in that one. It came from editing multiple novels every week, analyzing the love story, the setting, the prose, and overall the romanticism of it all. This perfect specimen of a man walking through the door just when her other travel boyfriend had gone up in smoke had caught her way off guard and she found herself catching her breath.

Daisy checked behind her and saw that her former boyfriend had set up a yard sale on her seat. She wasn’t getting in any time soon, so she turned back to the more pleasant view.

Apparently her new boyfriend had finished looking for whatever he was seeking and had stepped aside. A woman and a little girl stepped out from behind him and started up the aisle.

A little family.

Well, that was low of her. She’d never claimed a guy who was with his family as her imaginary boyfriend before.

The poised, perfect woman led the way up the aisle and Daisy looked for somewhere she could curl up and die from shame, but there was nowhere but the aisle to do so. Daisy just waited and tried to keep her blush down as the family walked up the aisle toward her.

The wife carried herself with an air of confidence, and was as perfectly put-together as the man. Straight, dark hair, makeup so flawless it looked like she’d been born with it, and grace that seemed inhuman on a moving train.  A large Hermes bag hung on her shoulder.

In romance novels, a scene when a future romantic couple met for the first time was called a meet cute. And now Daisy was face-to-face with the woman after she’d imaginarily meet-cuted her husband right in front of her.

“Hi,” said Daisy, angling her body to hide her blush and also allow the woman to see past her to the roadblock.

The woman smiled back and said, “Hello.” Oh, a British accent. So both of these people were ideal specimens.

From behind the mom, a cute little towheaded girl leaned out and said, “Hi, what’s your name?”

“Daisy Close. What’s yours?”

The girl was tiny enough to squeeze past her mom and step up to Daisy. She was maybe five years old. With a crooked finger, she summoned Daisy down to her level.

The darling little girl reminded Daisy of a straight-haired Shirley Temple. She bent down to come face to face with her.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Close. I’m Pasha,” whispered the girl. “I’m not s’pose to say that too loud though.”

“That’s a very pretty name,” said Daisy quietly, wondering why the girl didn’t have a British accent.

Pasha was missing a front tooth, so she spoke with a bit of a lisp. “My real name’s Appassionata.”

That sounded familiar and it only took Daisy a second to place it. “Is that from something called Li’l Abner?”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s what my mommy told me!”

“Guess what,” said Daisy conspiratorially. “My real name’s Daisy Mae. That’s from Li’l Abner too.”

Pasha’s eyes lit up like she was talking to a Disney princess. “That means we’re like sisters! I always wanted a sister.”

That was super sweet, but Daisy had mixed feelings about her own sister. “Well now you have one. And so you should call me Daisy.”

Pasha’s parents were quiet, allowing their daughter to make new friends while they waited for Daisy’s seat to clear so she could clear the aisle. Mom just looked down patiently. Dad watched much more intently as if he was worried Daisy meant his daughter harm, but every two seconds or so his eyes darted to another part of the car.

Daisy wondered what his hurry was. Everyone on the train was relaxed and ready for a long, laid-back trip, but this guy had a hard time standing still and waiting for the aisle to open.

Behind Daisy, her seatmate started having a coughing fit. For about half a minute he coughed into a paper napkin. Maybe it was a tuberculosis sanatorium where he’d been living and volunteering for the last twelve months. When he was done coughing, he appeared out of breath and a little sweaty.

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Daisy, touching his shoulder. He nodded so she pulled a bottle of water out of her carryon.

He rasped, “Thanks,” then cracked it open and started draining it.

The dad of the group was staring at Daisy, distracted from his inspection of the train car. Everyone else was looking at the man, probably wondering if he’d keel over. But not the hot dad. It was like he couldn’t believe Daisy was engaging with the man, but what else was she supposed to do? She could afford a few bucks to replace the bottled water and kindness didn’t cost anything.

Realizing he’d been staring, the dad went back to scanning everything. Daisy looked and saw her seatmate squeeze in front of her seat and plop down heavily into his own. He immediately claimed all of the armrest as well as part of her seat.

Good thing Daisy was slender and didn’t need all of her space. She was happy to give up what she wasn’t using. Daisy took her seat and said, “It was very nice to meet you, sister.”

“We’re going to see the last car, but they told me it has passengers in it. Is it still called a caboose?” The little girl was in no rush to move on.

Daisy leaned on the armrest by the aisle. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on a train before.”

“I ride trains all the time,” said Pasha. “Next week—”

“Pasha,” said her dad gently.

“Oh.” The girl obviously wasn’t supposed to say what she’d been about to say so she changed tracks. “I know everything about trains.”

“That’s good,” said Daisy. “Now I know who to ask when I have questions.”

“We’ll be right back after we find out if there’s a caboose on this train. You should come to the parlour car with us when we come back.”

Daisy had read about a lounge car and a Pacific Parlour car where people could hang out and get a better view of the beautiful scenery. But she was still a little fuzzy on exactly what amenities were available to coach passengers.

“Maybe,” said Daisy. “Ask me when you come back this way.”

“Okay. Bye, big sister.”

“Bye, little sister.”

Pasha went skipping up the aisle. Mom mouthed, thank you as she followed her. The dad paused momentarily and examined the seating arrangement in Daisy’s row. The guy in the next seat over was already busy with a movie on a tablet—no headphones—and a bag of chips, half of which appeared to be ending up in his facial hair and on his shirt. The dad looked like he was about to speak to Daisy, but  instead, just gave her a wink and a smile then snapped forward like he was pulled by an invisible leash attached to his family.

Daisy just stared at him, stunned. Was that a thank-you wink? Judging by the butterflies that took flight in her stomach, it sure didn’t feel like that. Daisy had no interest in flirting with a married man; she would never go there. But her body didn’t seem to be listening to her mind and her heart was beating like a bass drum.

Why couldn’t a hot, single guy wink at her like that? Unattached. Available. Oh well. Daisy sighed and went back to her book, leaning onto her armrest and encroaching into the aisle as the guy next to her was encroaching into her personal space.

It was going to be a long trip.

Before she had made it through an entire page, Pasha was tapping her on the arm.

“Hi, big sister.”

“You’re back already? Is it a caboose?”

Pasha sighed. In her cute little lisp she said, “It’s kinda confusing if you don’t know a lot about trains. Come with us to the parlour car and I’ll ‘splain it.”

The idea of sitting anywhere besides her assigned seat appealed to Daisy. But she didn’t trust the five-year old’s invitation that a coach passenger was really allowed up there. “Is it okay with your parents?”

Without looking up, Pasha said, “My parents said I can make friends on the train as long as I stay with Miss Dee and Cannon.”

Who? wondered Daisy. She looked up at the mom who picked up on her confusion.

In a confidential voice, the mom said, “We aren’t Miss Pasha’s parents. I’m Miss Dee, and this is Cannon.” Her refined English accent was straight out of a British Royalty movie.

The guy—who was not Dad—was leaning around Miss Dee. His smile had turned somewhat amused, but he didn’t speak. Wait, that meant … the wink …. Oh! Daisy gulped. So he was available on the boyfriend buffet again, and Daisy immediately claimed him as her new fake boyfriend again. 

Find The Peaceful Warrior .