The Christmas Train

by David Baldacci

  “Well, I suppose a girl envisions her parents being at her wedding. I mean, most brides I’ve known have been control freaks about their wedding, and it’s not like I feel helpless or anything. But, still, you imagine your father giving his little girl away and your mom telling you everything’s going to be okay. And, well, I don’t have any of that.”

  She suddenly burst into tears and sobbed for some time while Eleanor held her tightly. When she finally stopped, Julie wiped her eyes and looked embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a grown woman and I should be able to handle this, but I just feel so alone.”

  Eleanor brought her a damp washcloth to wipe her face.

  “You have every right to feel that way, and I guess I’ve been a pretty lousy maid of honor.”

  “Well, you were recruited at the last minute. You don’t even really know me.”

  “It shouldn’t matter. We’re both women. You’re going to be a bride tomorrow. That’s all I should need to know.”

  “Have you even been married?”

  “No,” said Eleanor quietly, “but I’ve thought about it a lot. Imagined every detail of it, down to the finger foods and flower displays. I don’t dream about it as much as I used to, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a simple matter of time. Years go by, the chances of it happening steadily diminish.”

  “Well, all you need is someone who loves you and you love him back.”

  Eleanor smiled when she actually felt like bawling harder than Julie just had. “Yep, that’s all you need.” She touched the garment bag Julie had set on the bed. “What’s this?”

  Julie looked embarrassed again. “It’s my wedding gown. I haven’t tried it on since I bought it. I thought maybe, you know.”

  “What a wonderful idea,” said Eleanor.

  “You sure you don’t mind? Like you said, it’s late and I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “Actually, I was tired, but now I’m not.”

  Eleanor helped Julie into her dress, a simple yet elegant outfit of cream white that fit perfectly. As she was about to place the veil on Julie’s head, Julie took it and put it on Eleanor. The two women stood side by side in front of the full-length mirror.

  “You look beautiful, Julie.”

  “So do you.”

  Julie started laughing hysterically and Eleanor finally joined her.

  Later, as Eleanor was about to pack up the gown and Julie was in the bathroom, Eleanor put the veil back on and held the gown up to her and looked in the mirror.

  “Ellie?”

  She looked over where the door to her compartment had slid open with the curves of the track and the acceleration of the Chief. It was Tom, staring at her. Her arms couldn’t move. She just stood there mutely covered by another woman’s wedding dress.

  “Ellie?” he said again as he stepped through the door.

  At that moment Julie came out of the bathroom and looked at each of them. “Sorry if I interrupted something,” she said.

  Eleanor lowered the gown, took the veil, and carefully packed it all away while Tom watched. She handed the garment bag to Julie, gave her a hug, and said with a smile, “Sleep hard, your whole life changes tomorrow morning. For the better.”

  Julie kissed her on the cheek, turned, and walked past Tom, who still stood there, looking as awkward as he did confused.

  “What do you want, Tom?”

  “You looked really beautiful in the dress, Ellie.”

  “It’s late, shouldn’t you be with Lelia?”

  “I don’t love Lelia!”

  “Well, she seems to love you. I assume you must have shown some affection, or made some comment or promise to her, because I find it hard to believe the woman would have flown all this way to ask you to marry her out of friendship or kindness. Frankly, she doesn’t strike me as the type.”

  “I’m telling you, our relationship was not like that.”

  “Really, so what was it like to make her come all this way?” She folded her arms across her chest and waited expectantly.

  “How do I know why she’d do something like that? She’s nuts.”

  “You’ve been seeing each other how long?”

  Tom sputtered, “About three years. But off and on.”

  “Off and on? Three years?”

  “Yes!”

  “And you expected her to be content with that?”

  He just looked at her blankly.

  Eleanor continued. “So she wanted to make a commitment but you didn’t. You were perfectly happy with popping in, popping out, sharing the good times not the bad, and going your solo way when you felt like it?”

  “It’s not like that, Ellie. I’m not like that anymore.”

  “Sure you’re not. You haven’t changed. Not a bit.”

  “It would be different. With the right woman.”

  Eleanor rubbed her temples. “Listen, we have a wedding to do tomorrow. Someone else’s wedding. I need some sleep.”

  “We can’t leave it like this.”

  “Oh yes we can, and we are.”

  He moved to take her in his arms but she firmly pushed him away. “We’ll do our duty tomorrow, we’ll get to LA, and we’ll go our separate ways. This time for good.”

  “Ellie!”

  “Goodbye, Tom.” She slid the door closed with finality.

  chapter twenty-six

  The dawn broke over the high plains of Colorado near the New Mexico border, but the sun was completely hidden by a vast sky of threatening clouds. The snow lay thickly over the ground, covering the ubiquitous sagebrush. Most folks assembled for an early breakfast, because word had spread rapidly about the upcoming nuptials. As the train neared La Junta, the excitement grew and virtually all the passengers and crew crowded into the lounge car such that there was barely enough room for the wedding procession, which consisted of the bride and groom, and a maid of honor and best man who never once looked at each other. Even though they walked in together arm-in-arm it was as though an invisible force separated them.

  The wedding went off without any major glitches. A group of musicians Max had hired and who’d gotten on early that morning played the traditional “Wedding March” and other tunes. Kristobal filmed the entire event, and Max directed as best he could, with most people on the train not even knowing this was a Max Powers production of sorts. Tom and Eleanor did their respective parts though Tom, for one awkward moment, couldn’t find the ring and then for one even much more awkward moment seemed to be trying to place it on Eleanor’s finger instead of handing it to Steve. Then that was all straightened out and Tom was able to step back and quietly ponder various suicide opportunities that might come his way.

  The bride and groom kissed right as the train stopped at La Junta, and Julie raised her fist in the air and shouted, “Yes!”

  Normally, Pike’s Peak would be clearly visible at the stop, but not even that towering chunk of rock could be seen through the cloud cover. All throughout the ceremony Herrick Higgins had sat quietly in his corner and watched the vicious-looking sky.

  Everyone on board threw rice, and outside the window a group of mostly train personnel from the station did the same, the white kernels disappearing rapidly in the swirling snow.

  At La Junta the Chief also attached the third diesel engine to help it over the pass. As the train pulled out of the station, the crowd lining the track roared in appreciation at the “Just Married” sign that had been hung on the last car of the Chief and the strung tin cans rattling just below the sign. It was an enviable beginning to any marriage.

  Then the party on the train really started, highlighted by the enormous feast Max had also paid for. As people stuffed themselves and the official wedding photographer took photos, Roxanne came sweeping out in a flamboyant costume that was definitely not Amtrak standard issue. She was trailed by the LA Boys’ Center Choir, also dressed in their finest. The crowd grew quiet, the musicians stood ready, and Roxanne and the choir began to sing.
It was all a vast yet delicate thing of beauty. They sang classical songs, then the blues, then some hiphop, and next a string of tunes from Nat King Cole to Sinatra. Roxanne followed that up with a solo by urging Steve and Julie to “Think . . . Think . . .” and then belted out “Chain of Fools,” doing her best Aretha Franklin impersonation and next the queen of soul’s signature piece, “Respect.” The crowd was so into it by this time that people were standing and shouting out each letter with her: “R-E-S-P-E-C-T!” The woman’s voice was booming, and she was swirling around the floor in intricate dance steps with a grace and litheness that belied her great size. Sweat was streaming down her face and neck, and she seemed truly possessed by something heavenly as she shouted out a series of “Amen”s.

  Max could only sit back and smile. He ceremoniously tore up his script when Roxanne looked over at him, and then she pulled him up with her and they danced together, at which point everyone else joined in. While the Capitol Limited had probably seen such strutting before, this was probably a first for the Southwest Chief.

  Lelia pulled Tom over, but he managed to promptly pull himself away, citing nausea, which wasn’t altogether a falsehood. It had truly been a rough night for him, much of which had been spent in the communal bathroom giving back most of the alcohol he’d drank. Poor, deserted Lelia looked around and spotted Kristobal, who was packing away the video equipment.

  “Care to dance?” she asked the handsome young man. Kristobal looked up and his eyes perceptibly widened at her glamorous figure and attire. “You work for Mr. Powers, don’t you?” Kristobal nodded. “I’m Lelia Gibson.”

  His eyes widened further and he blurted out, “Lelia Gibson, the voice of Cuppy the Magic Beaver?”

  She was taken aback. “Why, yes. You know the show?”

  “Know the show? It was my favorite when I was a kid. My little brother still watches it. And all my nieces and nephews, it’s their number-one program. You’re terrific. I saw you at Mr. Powers’s party last night but I never heard your name. And I only knew you, well, by voice.”

  Lelia looked flustered. “You watched it as a child? My, I have been doing the show a long time, haven’t I?”

  Kristobal dropped all pretense of self-restraint or professional dignity, so overwhelmed was he. “And Sassy Squirrel and Freddy the Futon and Petey the Orange Pickle, they’re all classics. I cried during the episode when Petey was caught in the storm drain and all his color was washed out. The depth of emotion you gave him during that tragic scene. It took me weeks to get over it. Look, I don’t mean to gush, but I just can’t believe you’re on this train. Would it be asking too much for your autograph? My family is just not going to believe this. My little brother is going to freak.”

  “Why, certainly you can have my autograph, um . . .”

  “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Kristobal Goldman.” He gave her hand an enthusiastic shake that almost lifted petite Lelia right out of her outrageously expensive, open-toed three-inch heels.

  “I tell you what, Kristobal, I’ll autograph anything you want if you’ll dance with me.”

  An astonished Kristobal bowed deeply and off they went.

  While everyone was preoccupied at the wedding and party afterward, about twenty more compartments were robbed of various items, from watches and rings to bracelets and even Max’s pair of Bruno Maglis. Once more the thief made a clean getaway, although there was someone lurking in the corridor who might have seen something suspicious. Yet no alarm was given, and the thief quickly melded back into the partygoers. The bag of loot was bulging more than ever, and they still had a day remaining before their scheduled arrival into LA.

  During the night before the wedding the storm had settled over the border between Colorado and New Mexico. Virtually locked in place by a high-pressure system, the clouds were now so heavy with moisture that something had to give; and it did at about three o’clock in the morning, with the Chief still over eight hours away. The gauges used to measure snowfall were filled within an hour; the enormously strong instruments erected to quantify windspeed were toppled in thirty minutes. All commercial flights were instructed to give the area a wide berth and all nearby ski resorts were closed.

  The Raton Pass had endured five winter storms already, and the snow packed on the mountains was kept there by freezing temperatures and the weight of the snow itself. When the current storm finally came crashing down, two things happened: The temperatures actually rose a few degrees, and the new snow fell so heavily and so fast that it didn’t simply settle on top of the snow below, it hit and then slid, with more snow falling and tumbling right behind it. Thus tremendous momentum was built up in a very short time. By seven o’clock conditions were near whiteout. Then at nine-thirty, there was a sudden lull in the storm and the forecasters predicted the system had exhausted itself and would rapidly dissipate, with a change in the prevailing winds now directing the worst of it north and east.

  Someone once said to Mark Twain, upon the occasion of a sudden rain shower, that he hoped the storm would stop, whereupon Twain had replied that the odds were good because it always had. He’d also remarked that weather in general was very accommodating: If one didn’t like what it was doing at any given moment, all one had to do was wait a bit and the weather would change. Twain had never put much stock in weather predicting, no doubt sensibly concluding that the science of foretelling what Mother Nature intended was a sorry one at best and a fool’s gamble at worst.

  Well, some things hadn’t changed, because even with satellites and super Doppler radar and other state-of-the-art devices to help them, the meteorologists following the current storm did what meteorologists often do: They got it wrong. The blizzard had been merely resting. Now millions of tons of Pacific moisture and galelike winds were perfectly posed to add one to the history books.

  chapter twenty-seven

  Most of the wedding partygoers had dispersed by now, but Max and Misty, Kristobal and Lelia, and Herrick Higgins were all sitting in the lounge car. Tom and Eleanor had left separately right after Roxanne had finished singing, and they hadn’t been seen since. Roxanne had gone to take care of train business and get the choir settled back down after their hard work. Married now, Steve and Julie had been given an empty double deluxe in which to officially commence their honeymoon with, no doubt, considerable gusto.

  The Chief was now well past Trinidad, Colorado, and had its sights set squarely on the Raton Pass. Everyone watched as the train started its ascent. As the grade grew steeper, and the deep whine of the three engines grew louder, there was a creeping uneasiness among the passengers. The vast amounts of snow being pushed off the track by the lead engine’s plow could be seen at every curve. It was a wonder that the engineer could see at all with all that white flying around.

  Kristobal said, “Uh, what happens if one of the cars comes loose? Do we just go barreling down into the abyss?”

  Higgins replied, “No, the automatic braking system comes on and the car stops. Train technology has come a long way over the years.” He pointed out the window. “We’ll climb to 7,580 feet at the highest point.”

  “That’s pretty high,” said Kristobal.

  “Well, it’s not the highest track elevation in this country. That’s on the California Zephyr past Denver at a little over 9,200 feet. In South America — I forget which country — there’s a train track at an elevation so high they have to give out oxygen to the passengers. We go through a half-mile-long tunnel that runs under the pass, and once we get out of that we’re in New Mexico. We’ll descend down the eastern side of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and into Raton. Raton’s at an elevation of 6,666 feet, so while the descent is sharp, it’s not really that far.”

  Misty looked stricken, and she grabbed Max’s arm. “Did you say 6,666 feet?”

  Higgins looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Are you sure that’s the elevation? Exactly?”

  “Well, yes, ma’am. They measure those thing
s pretty precisely.”

  “Oh my God!” said Misty.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” asked Max.

  “Don’t you see, 6-6-6-6? It’s the worst possible combination of numbers, it’s even worse than a triple 6.”

  Max turned pale. “You’re right, the mark of the Devil, plus another 6. Totally bad karma.”

  “Is this really a problem?” asked a nervous-looking Kristobal.

  “In my line of business, it doesn’t get much worse,” said Misty emphatically. “Can we stop the train?”

  “Isn’t there a brake rope to pull, like in the movies?” asked Lelia. She was seated next to Kristobal and was anxiously clutching