Where Trains Collide

by Amber Stokes

  They didn’t talk about the future, and Trisha wasn’t sure if she was relieved or sad. She couldn’t deny that it was nice to simply take one step after another without stressing about the track stretching long and uncertain in front of her. For this time, it was good to enjoy the sights, fill her lungs with air fresh from the coast, and admire the gift she clutched by thin stems.

  ***

  They had a late lunch at Olive Garden in Eugene, followed by a stop at Barnes and Noble, where Trisha and Paul wandered down the aisle of travel books, sharing the places they most wanted to visit and determining new states and countries to add to their lists. Trisha enjoyed each moment—except for the ones when she couldn’t stop herself from checking the time on her phone.

  No music blared from the speakers in Paul’s car as he finally drove her to the train station. They didn’t say much to each other while he concentrated on his driving and she tried her best not to cry by composing a blog post on Sweet Creek Falls in her mind. It helped distract her until Paul parked the car. He sat still and stared at the steering wheel beneath his hands.

  “These last couple days passed so quickly,” Trisha murmured into the silence.

  Paul nodded, then lifted his gaze to hers. “Babe…”

  “Yes?” She tried to smile, to give him some encouragement, but it came out too flimsy and fragile.

  “I know how much I hurt you before. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

  She rubbed her thumb across her knuckles, her vision blurring with tears. Was he rejecting her again?

  “I also don’t want to distract you from school or figuring things out. But I can’t stand the thought of having this second chance with you and ignoring it or throwing it away. Do you think…maybe we could write each other?” He dropped his hands to his legs and rubbed his palms over his jeans.

  She sniffed and tilted her head. “Write each other?”

  “Yeah. This has been such a short time to get reacquainted, but maybe writing or emailing—or whatever—will help us find our way back to each other. I’d like to try, if you would.”

  This time, her smile rose the way it should, even though her lips trembled slightly. “I’d like that too.”

  His shoulders lowered as they had when she’d offered forgiveness last night, like the weight of dread falling away. He placed his hand, palm up, in the empty space between them, and she rested her own hand in his. For a moment, they simply sat there, hoping, wishing. When a train whistle called out from somewhere down the track, Paul raised her fingers to his lips and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles.

  They stepped out of the car, and Paul helped her unload her pink suitcase from the trunk while she held the leaf bouquet he had given her earlier. A chill wind rushed past, causing Trisha to pull her lavender-gray coat tighter around her and tie the sash.

  Paul followed her into the station, where she retrieved her ticket. He sat with her as she waited for the boarding announcement, and she didn’t have the will or heart to tell him she’d be okay if he left. She wanted to store up this feeling of his warm, protective presence beside her.

  They exchanged their new contact information before the announcement came. Then he walked with her out to the track behind the station. As other passengers got in line, Trisha turned to Paul, trying to draw strength from the comforting warmth of his gaze.

  “It will be all right.” He pulled her into his arms, and she nestled into his light blue jacket, the leaves held tight in her hands as she clasped him close. She took a deep breath, praying silently—not for answers, but for the peace of God’s presence she’d felt singing hymns beneath the lighthouse.

  Maybe answers wouldn’t make sense to her now. Maybe she needed to trust God more. Maybe she needed to journey farther down the trail before she could see where He was leading her. She never would have expected finding Paul on this trip, after all. But what had started out as awful had led to forgiveness and hope. God would lead her true beyond this weekend. She believed it, enough to step back and smile without fear.

  “Thank you, Paul Bunyan—for everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Babe. Have a safe trip, and I’ll write to you soon.”

  He gave her one quick kiss on the cheek, and the sweetness of it lingered as she headed to the end of the line and the train that would take her forward.

  Ever forward.

  Epilogue

  Dear Paul,

  I miss you, and it’s only been an hour since I last saw you. I could be reading my bird book or preparing a blog post on Sweet Creek Falls, but I wanted to spend this twilight time writing to you.

  How different this is from being on the train just yesterday morning! Then, I was wishing I hadn’t run into you. (Is it terrible to admit that?) All I wanted was to meet up with Samantha and hope that somehow I’d be able to figure out my future.

  My future still feels uncertain, but I guess I’m learning to be okay with that. I know that for now, the best thing is to continue the track I’m on. Get a degree and go from there. Who knows what will happen between now and then? Who knows where God will lead? I used to be scared of that question, and maybe I still am in some ways, but I feel reassured. I think our time by the lighthouse last night reminded me of the peace I’d been pushing away but has been waiting for me all along.

  Anyway, enough about me. I want to know all about you. Do you know your next step? Do you like living in Eugene? What’s it like being a dental hygienist? Why’d you choose that job? It feels like we’ve spent so much time apart, and there are so many things that might have changed. Is your favorite color still green, like mine? Do you still enjoy hiking? Do you have new hobbies now? What’s your church community like?

  I can’t wait to get to know you all over again. I never expected to anticipate that, but here we are. I’m grateful for second chances. I’m thankful we ran into each other. We were like two trains on seemingly separate tracks that turned out to be just one, finally colliding. I’m happy to be on the same track, Paul. I really am.

  Looking forward to hearing from you soon.

  Yours,

  Trisha

  Author’s Note

  I originally hoped to publish this story three years ago. I’m not sure if that would have been better, or if the life I’ve lived in the meantime somehow made the story what it needed to be. But for the readers I’ve kept waiting, please know I’m sorry for this long delay, and I’m grateful for your patience!

  Since the spring of 2015 (when I’d first hoped to publish Where Trains Collide), I stayed at the Heceta Lighthouse B and B twice. I also visited the lighthouse with a sweet and adventurous man named Josh in May 2016…and he proposed to me there about six months later. Seven months after that, we got married on the Oregon coast—about twenty minutes down the road, near the lovely town of Florence. The lighthouse holds a special part of my heart, and I’m so glad I could include it in this story! (If you ever get the chance to see it at night, I very highly recommend it.)

  As for this book’s premise, I had a time in college when I hopped on a train, like Trisha, stressed with my responsibilities and wanting so badly to do something spontaneous and get away. It was only a day trip, the whole time spent on a train or at a station, but it felt wonderful to have a little adventure and some space to write and think.

  It’s been both a struggle and a joy to take Trisha on her own journey, by train and beyond. Thank you for joining her for the ride! My hope is that this story’s destination somehow spoke to your heart, questions and all.

  Acknowledgments

  Lena Goldfinch, thank you so much for this beautiful cover! I love every design you’ve put together for me. This one has been waiting a long time for a complete story to go with it, and I’m glad for the inspiration and motivation it’s offered. And the encouragement you’ve given me has meant the world. Who knows how much longer I might have postponed this book’s publication without you cheering me on? I’m so very grateful.

  Rachelle Rea Cobb, thank
you for being my editor and friend. I’m happy to be working with you again and to have your polishing skills applied to my little story!

  Joanne Bischof, thank you for your feedback on early chapters and your faith in me and my writing. I’m grateful for your friendship and your own incredible words.

  My readers and blogging friends, thank you for your thoughts, your patience, and your many kindnesses as you’ve encouraged me and given my stories a place in your lives.

  Michelle Korgan (owner of Heceta Lighthouse Bed-and-Breakfast) and all the B and B staff, thank you for all you do to make sure visitors have a memorable and thoroughly enjoyable experience. I cherish the memories I’ve made during my visits!

  My parents and sister, thank you for always supporting me and being there for me through these changing seasons of living on my own, working in publishing, and getting married to the man of my dreams.

  Josh, thank you for turning my life upside down in the best possible way! I fell in love with your words first, and now I’m thrilled to be by your side as your wife. Thank you for supporting my dreams and loving me with such grace, even in those times when we can’t see where God will lead us next. I love our journey, and I love you with all my heart.

  About the Author

  Amber Holcomb (Stokes) is an indie author and freelance editor living below the majestic mountains of Montana with her adventurous husband. Previously, she worked in marketing for a Christian publisher for nearly three years. Her passion for books compelled her to earn a bachelor’s degree in English and now fuels her work with words in this new season of life.

  You can learn more about Amber’s books at www.SeasonsofaStory.blogspot.com.

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review online. Thank you!

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