by R. E. Hunter
“Where are we going?”
“Exploring. I’m going train crazy.”
My dress—let’s just call her Vera, since she’s pretty much a third passenger on this trip with us and most women can appreciate her creator—and I follow Brett through the train cars until we reach the observation lounge.
A knowing grin tips his lips as he sees my eyes widen in surprise. I may not have many positive things to say about cross-country train travel, but the sightseer lounge is the exception. The car is lined with wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a completely panoramic view of the snow-covered countryside.
A shimmering frost has formed on the window edges, and between that and the muted Christmas music playing in the background, it could easily be mistaken for the Polar Express.
Santa, is that you?
Anyway, Brett, Vera, and I find a few comfortable chairs and start enjoying the scenery.
Iowa’s rolling hills stretch out in front of us, the powder-white snow on the ground and snowflakes floating on the wind making it a picture-perfect winter wonderland.
Brett nudges me, and I turn to find him beaming like a kid on Christmas. “Pretty cool, huh?”
I nod and return the smile. “Pretty cool.”
For just a second, I let my guard down, put my worries aside and take in the moment. The car is filled with travelers from all over the country. Families sit playing card games, writers tap away on their keyboards, and some people, like Brett and I, simply stare out the window and daydream. A part of the country I’d never have any other excuse to see flies by, and I just enjoy the beauty of it.
“Excuse me,” a deep, baritone voice interrupts my moment.
I look up at the owner of the voice and find James Dean. Well, James Dean if he had lived a good, long life and aged incredibly well. His salt-and-pepper hair is neat and meticulously styled, and he wears faded blue jeans, a well-worn leather jacket, and a kind smile.
“Sorry to bother you and your friend here,” he says, nodding to Vera. I like him already. “But do you mind if I take this seat?”
I glance around and notice that the car is nearly full. I lay Vera across Brett’s lap and mine, and he sits. His leather jacket shifts and I notice a clerical collar peeking out of his shirt. A priest? A priest in jeans and a leather jacket?
“Oh! I’m sorry, Father.” I suddenly have a strong desire to cross myself.
As if he knows exactly what’s in my brain, Brett nudges me, and whispers, “Get a grip, Maxwell.”
“Quite all right. I appreciate the seat,” says our holy new friend. He eyes Vera carefully. “With the way you’re guarding that garment bag, I’m guessing you might just have a very important event coming up?”
I nod, adding shyly, “Our wedding.”
Brett reaches forward and offers his hand. “Hiya, Father. I’m Brett, this is my fiancé, Morgan. We’re getting married this Friday in Tahoe.”
The priest’s mouth curves into a smile. “Father David, please. Congratulations, and God bless you both. I don’t meet many couples about to marry on a long train trip like this.”
“I don’t meet many leather jacket-wearing priests,” I blurt out.
Brett’s eyes go wide, and Father David lets out a good-natured chuckle as I shrink into my seat and try not to cringe at my own big mouth.
“I’d imagine you don’t.” He lowers his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “I like to dress down a bit when I’m on my own time.” Then he winks. A leather jacket-wearing, winking priest. Did I mention I like him?
“Personally, I like the look,” I compliment his clothing choice. “And we’re traveling coast-to-coast two days before our wedding because it was Brett’s one thing. I couldn’t say no.”
“She tried,” Brett piped in. I elbow him in the side and smile sweetly at Father David, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment I know is rapidly spreading across my face.
“Ah, the one thing.” Father David nods his head knowingly.
“You know about the one thing?” Brett and I say in near unison.
“Mine was a Niagara Falls honeymoon,” he answers conspiratorially, turning his attention on Brett. “You picked a good one, son.”
“But then you became a priest …” My heart constricts in my chest as I remember the only way a married man can enter the priesthood.
Father David smiles sadly. “When cancer took my Nancy, I knew there was no one else for me. We’d lived a wonderful life together, made a beautiful family. I couldn’t imagine ever sharing that with anyone else. So I decided to dedicate my life to God. I went to seminary and took my vows.”
We chat for a while longer, sharing stories and laughs until he leaves us for the dining car. Brett and I decide to walk the cars and stretch our legs a bit more before dinner. But when we pass our room, Brett pulls me inside and insists we check a few more items off of his bucket list. He has me pressed up against the glass in a very compromising position before I can object. Not that I would. I realize somewhere along the way, I’ve actually started having fun.
7
Every bride has her moment. Even the most laidback, easy-going bride will lose her shit at least once. I like to pretend sometimes that I’m laidback and easy-going, but that would be a slight exaggeration. I’ve had a few moments already, if I’m being honest. But that’s neither here nor there.
After a particularly satisfying romp in our little room, Brett and I decide to be social and brave the dining car. After all, if we’re going to be stuck in this toaster on rails for at least another day, we might as well have the whole train experience. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m going with it.
We enter the car, which is lined with tables on both sides. Windows stretch the length of each wall, and although the sun has already set, flashes of dark, snowy countryside pass by outside and make for a nice, cozy atmosphere. After this trip, I’m considering writing a travel guide. The wonders of train travel.
The dining attendant shows us to our table. Brett and I sit down and settle in, and I set Vera down on the seat beside me. My dress needs her space. It’s important that she not be cramped anymore than she already is in that terrible garment bag. I would take her out and let her breathe if I weren’t so superstitious about Brett seeing her before the wedding.
I look across the aisle and immediately break into a fit of giggles. Brett glances at the table of nuns, and his lips curve into a knowing smirk. Once again I feel the irrational need to cross myself. First, Father David, and now this. Leave it to me, the girl who just had her tits pressed against the panoramic window while getting railed by her fiancé, to make friends with the holiest people on the train. That’s just how I roll. I wonder if there’s any holy water on this train.
Four people are meant for each table in the dining car. It’s not a very large space, so strangers are seated together, and that’s where the fun and socializing comes in. At least in theory. No one has been seated with us yet, so Brett and I smile at the sisters and strike up friendly conversation. I struggle to keep it appropriate when all I really want to do is try to force a divine love connection and ask Sister Mary if she’s seen the sweet and handsome Father David.
I’m vaguely aware of the dining attendant approaching our table, and I hear Brett’s voice in the background laced with warning as he says, “Sir, I would caution you not to do that.”
And then all hell breaks loose.
And by all hell breaking loose, I mean the car attendant moves to pick up Vera with the intention of seating another couple at our table, and I go straight up ninja on him.
I can’t say I’m particularly proud of myself, but in a desperate attempt to save Vera from the evil clutches of the dining attendant, I let out a strangled cry and dive for the dress, ripping it from his hands and terrifying our would-be table mates. I clutch Vera against my chest, breathing heavily and staring at the attendant with wild eyes.
Brett looks between us and shakes his head. “I tr
ied to warn you, dude.”
The man is visibly shaken and stares at me in shock.
I look to the nametag pinned to his jacket and spread the sweetest smile I can manage across my face. “I apologize, Vincent. Can I call you Vincent? But I’m stuck on this train, a train that is now delayed, for who knows how long, trying to get to my wedding, in two days. I’ve left my wedding shoes at home and this garment bag, holding my couture wedding gown, is all I have left to hold on to.”
Brett coughs loudly as if to say “What about me?” and I quiet him with a look.
“The doors to our sleeper cars don’t lock, and I can’t risk her being stolen out of our room,” I continue. “So I’m asking you, Vincent, is there any way that you can make an exception and leave Vera to her own seat so that she doesn’t get ruffled any further?”
Being that Vincent doesn’t know that Vera is just a clever name for the brand of my dress, I’m sure he thinks I’ve completely lost my mind, but I’m going with it.
For some reason that only God knows, literally, the nuns are impressed with my heroics and intercede on my behalf, convincing Vincent to let Vera be. It pays to have friends in holy places.
Brett, Vera, and I are eventually given a single tablemate named Monica, who fits right in with our rowdy crowd. Monica is somewhere in her mid-forties and every attendant knows her by name. She travels the rails often, but nobody seems to know why, and she doesn’t like to give up her destination.
Seated behind us are Jill, Kevin, and their small son, Ryan, who, thankfully did not arrive in time to see me hulk out on our poor server, and they’re seated with a man named Marty, who seems to be Amtrak’s unofficial tour guide.
Marty narrates our trip as we head out of Iowa and into Nebraska’s great plains.
“Nebraska was once called ‘The Great American Desert.’ Marlon Brando was born here, the state insect is the honeybee, and it is home to the world’s largest porch swing. It seats twenty-five people!”
We all nod enthusiastically at our new friend as he continues his colorful commentary in the background.
You learn pretty quickly the types of people who ride trains. You have the regulars, some who keep to themselves and some who are entirely crazy and possibly unstable. I would put both Monica and Marty into this category since between them they seem to have braved this at least a dozen times. That makes them both crazy and unstable in my eyes. Then you have the first timers. Jill and her family are train virgins, enjoying their trip despite the cramped sleeper car. Then Brett and I fall into the final category—the once-in-a-lifetimers. Brett is here for the experience. I’m here for him. But it will never be happening again.
After dinner, our group, including Vera, makes our way to the lounge car for a nightcap. There, we’re joined by Father David and a friend he’d made named Jonah, who is a writer in Amtrak’s residency program – whatever that is. I’m finally able to work my matchmaking skills on Father David and Sister Mary. And by matchmaking, I mean I introduced them and walked away giggling. Maybe they’ll fall madly in love and denounce their vows, giving up the holy cloth to be together. Probably not, but I mention it to Jonah in case he needs material for his next book.
8
I’m startled from sleep by the conductor’s thick voice. I squint my eyes open and find our compartment pitch black. Brett rolls over, his heavy arm pinning me against the mattress. I curl into him, and I’m lost again in the fog of sleep. There was something important the conductor was saying. Delay? Snow and ice?
I stretch out, slowly waking up, and realize Brett isn’t beside me. Turning and reaching for him, I hit nothing but mattress. I peek through cracked eyelids and find Brett sitting stiffly in the recliner, the tiniest sliver of light shining in through the curtained windows.
“What time is it?” I groan.
“Not even seven yet.”
“What are you doing up?”
I take him in. His hands are clutched in front of him, and I watch the muscle in his cheek bounce as he tightens his jaw.
“We’re stuck.”
I shoot up from the mattress. “What?”
“We haven’t moved.”
I pull the curtains aside and squint out the window. “What do you mean, stuck? Where are we?”
Brett shrugs. “Somewhere called Holdrege, Nebraska. There’s a train stranded on the tracks ahead of us. They ran into a large snowdrift. We’ve been held at this station while they work to clear the tracks or find an alternate route.”
My stomach churns as my brain begins to run through all of the possible scenarios. “How long are we going to be here?”
“I don’t know, babe.”
I can barely look at his guilt-ridden face. I pull out the route map and check the times. “Brett. There’s at least another thirty hours from here to Reno. And that’s with no delays. We should’ve been halfway through Colorado by now!”
His voice is flat. “They’re saying if they can’t get things moving within the next five hours or so, they’ll bring in busses to transport the passengers.”
“To where?” I snap loudly.
“I don’t know, Morgan.” His voice is hard, cold. “Look,” he says, softening his tone. “I’m sorry, babe. I really am. I don’t know what their timeline is like or why this is happening to us. All we can do is just make the best of our time together and keep everyone updated with our situation. We’ll get there. Don’t worry.”
He reaches for me but I jerk away. “Don’t worry? This is my wedding, Brett!”
I watch as he cringes at my words. I know he feels guilty, but I don’t care. I’m not feeling very rational right now. The forgotten wedding shoes, the delays, the shitty nights of sleep, and toting my wedding dress around like the queen of all bridezillas have all caught up to me, and I need an outlet. I need something, or someone, to blame.
“We wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you, Brett.” I stand and kick the mattress. “You could’ve had anything for your one thing. I assumed I’d be giving you a free pass to motorboat some stripper’s plastic tatas in Vegas. But no, you choose a train trip!”
He rubs at the back of his neck, and I can see him trying to hold it together. But I keep pushing.
“All of the planning, all of the time I’ve spent on this, means nothing. Because I’m going to miss my own wedding.”
He pushes up from the chair and moves toward the door. “Our, Morgan.”
“What?”
He shakes his head, hurt radiating from his features as he turns to me. “It’s our wedding,” he says quietly. “Not yours. And at the end of the day, it’s a stupid fucking party.”
“It is not stupid,” I yell.
“Is it worth this?” He motions between us.
I can’t find the words to answer. I’m seething and I feel like I have no control over my own emotions. I know I’m hurting him, but I can’t shut it off.
“You think I don’t realize that we could be relaxing in Tahoe right now if we had just taken a plane? You think I don’t already feel like shit? It was a family tradition, yes, but I thought it would be a good way for us to take our minds off all of the stress of the wedding and just be together. I should’ve known you couldn’t handle something like this. Instead of it bringing us closer together, it’s just pulling us apart.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I call after him as he walks through the door.
He turns toward me, broad shoulders drooping. “What’s left after your big wedding, Morgan?”
The door bangs shut behind him, and I curl into a ball on the mattress. Tears soak the sheet beneath my cheek as I replay his words in my head. Then I think about what my mom said. The only thing you can’t get married without is Brett.
I know she’s right. I just can’t help but feel like this all could have gone so differently if we hadn’t set foot on this stupid train.
I pull out my phone and try my maid of honor. No answer.
This is a wedding emergency
if I’ve ever had one, so I switch to FaceTime and try to connect on a video call.
A mess of blonde waves and green eyes fill the screen. “Morgan? What on earth are you doing? Do you know what time it is?”
Her face drops as she notices mine, and she immediately changes course. “Are you crying? What happened? Are you okay?”
I choke on a sob and shake my head. “No. We’re delayed, stuck somewhere in Nebraska, and Brett and I just got into a huge fight.”
“You’re delayed? For how long?” Her tired eyes widen as she puts together the pieces. “Oh, my God!”
“We’ve been here since sometime in the middle of the night. There’s a train stuck on the tracks ahead of us. They don’t know when we’ll be moving again. And none of this would be happening right now if we hadn’t taken this stupid train trip.”
She bites her lip, looking sympathetic. “And I’m assuming you said something to that effect to your future hubby?”
I nod. “Guilty.”
Embry rolls her eyes at me and stifles a smile. “M, you know I love you. And I know how much time you’ve put into this. I know how much it means; I’ve been there with you every step of the way.”
“See?” I agree. “You get it.”
“I do.” She hesitates. “But none of this would mean anything without Brett to share it with. A wedding is an amazing celebration, but it’s a celebration of the marriage. And you kind of need Brett for that part.”
I shrug.
“Come on, Morgan,” she pushes. “I can see it all over your face. You don’t like fighting with him.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Do you honestly think Brett would have ever suggested this if he knew it would add more stress or cause you to possibly miss your wedding? He couldn’t have foreseen this.”
“I know, but still, it happened. And we wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t wanted this train trip so badly.”
“And you gave it to him, didn’t you? Because you love him, and you want him to be happy.”