CHAPTER THREE
“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
“It’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 better 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.
Matt watched Nick glance at his wife as he stepped forward. “That’s a good question. Should we think about getting a hotel room?” It went without saying that a young family would be far more comfortable in one. “And what’s available here?”
“There’s a hotel in town and a couple of motels that should have a few rooms left. I can call and they’ll send their shuttle vans for anyone who wants to be picked up. Same goes for the car rental agency. But—” Mr. Kemper rubbed the side of his jaw “—I can’t tell you what would be best. When the repairs are finished, the train’s pulling out. We won’t have time to call all over town and round people up. If you’re here, you go. If not, you’ll need to wait for the next train.”
Matt weighed his options and decided to wait it out. He was probably being too optimistic, but he’d rather take his chances at the depot. His choice wasn’t the popular one. The majority of those on the train decided to get hotel rooms. Within ten minutes, the depot had emptied, leaving twenty or so hardy souls willing to brave the rest of the afternoon.
“What about you two?” Matt asked Nick, glancing at the younger man’s wife and baby. He’d expected Nick to be among the first to seek more comfortable accommodations.
“Kelly thinks we should stay.”
“It could be a long hard afternoon,” Matt felt obliged to remind him. Later, when Nick and his wife changed their minds, there likely wouldn’t be any rooms left.
Matt’s gaze went to the telephones. He probably should phone Pam, but the prospect brought him no pleasure. He’d wait until he had a few more pertinent details. No use upsetting her this soon. She had four hours yet before she needed to know he wasn’t on his scheduled flight. In this instance ignorance was bliss.
* * *
“Mother... Oh dear, this isn’t working out the way I’d hoped.” Madeline’s distress rang over the wire.
Cathy’s thoughts echoed her daughter. She pressed the telephone to her ear. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“I have every right to worry,” Madeline snapped. “I should have come up there and gotten you myself.”
“Nonsense.” As far as Cathy was concerned, that would only have made matters worse. The last thing she wanted was to take her daughter away from her family on Christmas Eve.
“But Daddy would—” Madeline abruptly cut off the rest of what she was about to say.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re in the middle of a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. You’re stuck without family, alone in some train depot in a dinky town in New Hampshire. You are not fine, Mother.”
Alone. The word leaped out of her daughter’s mouth and hit Cathy hard. Hard enough that she took an involuntary step backward. Alone. That was how she’d felt since Ron’s death. It seemed as though she wandered from day to day without purpose, linked to no one, lost, confused. And consumed by a grief so painful it virtually incapacitated her. All she had was the promise that time would eventually ease this ache in her heart.
“The entire situation is horrible,” Madeline continued.
“What would you have me do? Scream and shout? Yell at the stationmaster who’s done nothing but be as helpful and kind as possible? Is that what you want?”
Her question was followed by Madeline’s soft unhappy sigh.
“I feel so incredibly guilty,” her daughter confessed after a moment.
“Why in heaven’s name should you feel anything of the sort?” It was ludicrous that Madeline was blaming herself for these unfortunate circumstances.
“But, Mother, you’re with strangers, instead of family, and I’d hoped—”
“Now stop,” Cathy said in her sternest voice. “None of this is your fault. In any case, I’m here in Abbott and perfectly content. I brought my knitting with me and there are plenty of others for company.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Madeline protested.
Cathy closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. “Do you honestly believe any Christmas will ever be the same for me without your father?”
“Oh, Mom.” Her daughter’s voice fell. “Don’t mention Daddy, please. It’s so hard without him.”
“But life goes on,” Cathy said, doing her best to sound brave and optimistic.
“I’d wanted to make everything better for you.”
“You have,” Cathy told her gently. “I couldn’t have stayed at the house alone. I’d rather be in this depot with strangers than spending Christmas with memories I’m not ready to face. And sometime tonight or tomorrow, I’ll be with all of you. Now let’s stop before we both embarrass ourselves.”
“You’ll phone as soon as the tracks are repaired?”
“The minute I hear, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Brian and I and the girls will come down to the depot for you.”
“Fine, sweetheart. Now don’t you worry, okay?”
Madeline hesitated, then whispered, “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too. Now promise me you won’t fret.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” After a few words of farewell, Cathy replaced the receiver and returned to her seat. The depot was warm, thanks to the small stove. Those who’d stayed had taken up residence on the hardwood benches. As Cathy reached for her knitting, she battled back a fresh wave of depression.
Madeline was right. It was a dreadful situation, being stuck in a train depot this day of all the days in the year. She glanced around at the others. They appeared just as miserable as she.
Could this really be Christmas?