by Megan Besing
She turned and stared at him.
Had she read his mind?
After several long moments, she gathered the children and headed in his direction. If he wanted to speak with her, now was the time.
He tipped his hat in greeting. “Hello.”
She smiled at him. “Children, say hello to Mr. John. He saved the train.”
Heat crept up his neck at her words. “It wasn’t me. Took a whole town.” Time to change the subject. “Saw you go into the telegraph office earlier. Not bad news, I hope?”
She glanced at the young ones. “Eli, take your brother and sister to the train. Thomas will help you board.” She watched while the three complied. “I made a difficult decision today.”
Having made his own hard choice, he commiserated with her. “That can be quite draining.”
“I was traveling to California to—to meet someone. I sent a telegram saying my plans had changed.”
His heart leaped in his chest. Now was his chance to tell her. But he couldn’t. Until he received a response, he was still engaged. “I see why you are distressed.”
“Did you send a telegram to your wife?”
“She’s dead.”
Her hand flew to her throat. “I’m so sorry. Thomas said he was praying for your children.”
“I’m engaged to be married. Which is as binding as a marriage.”
A tiny flicker of some expression—hope? Delight?—vanished at his words.
The whistle blew, piercing his thoughts, and he nodded toward the train. “Your carriage awaits you, Miss Mary.”
His fingers itched to offer his hand, but he held back. Touching her now might convince his heart to pursue their relationship before he was truly free.
As for him, he would tuck his heart into his pocket, even as he prayed she could see inside him and feel the same for him as he felt for her.
Mary trailed the children into the dining car, searching for a table for four. Or at least for three. Cassie and Trevor could share the space of an adult, but Eli insisted on his own chair. Because of the delays in travel due to the weather, the snow, and the passengers’ illness, the engineer had approved the opening of the dining car for every meal at no charge.
Which was one thing she didn’t have to worry about. Feeding three growing children was hard enough when food was plenty and a kitchen was available. Keeping them filled on stale biscuits and day-old sandwiches would have been next to impossible.
Cassie spotted Mr. John and toddled toward him, holding out her hands to be picked up and cuddled. Mary smiled at the picture. He clearly enjoyed being around small children, and Cassie wasn’t shy with anybody. He scooped the child onto his lap and bounced her several times, laughing at the child’s cooing.
Then he looked up and saw her. He froze as he stared at her. His jaw clenched and unclenched, then he set Cassie down.
Cassie, oblivious to what just happened, returned. Mary scooped her up and hugged her close, studying John over the top of the child’s head. He glanced at her then returned to his breakfast and his dining companions.
What was wrong with the man?
His news about his engagement dashed any hopes about a future with him. What did he think of her, breaking her own engagement?
And why did he speak words of love into her ear? Probably the stress of the situation. After all, why would he have any feelings for her? They barely knew each other.
She pointed to a table in the corner. “Over there, children.”
They clambered into a U-shaped booth, and she perched on a chair on the outside, feeling like a warden keeping the prisoners contained.
The waiter set their soup before them, and Mary pushed the bowl toward Trevor. “You eat first. Make sure it’s not too hot.”
The boy dug in, slurping up spoonfuls, dribbling some down the front of his shirt, much the worse for wear given the five days on the train. Mary sighed. She had no facilities to wash and dry clothes and had given up trying to keep the children’s clothes clean. She swiped their hands and faces several times a day with a damp handkerchief, planning to discard the dingy gray linen once she handed them over to their uncle.
Once again, the thought of leaving them created a hole in her heart. What would she do now that she didn’t have to go to Heartbreak? Stay in Bakersfield? Work until she earned enough to continue to the ocean? It would be nice to see the Pacific. Dip her toes into the water.
Trevor pushed the empty bowl away. He swiped his hand across his mouth. “Sorry, Miss Mary. I was so hungry I ate it all.”
Mary smiled. “That’s okay. I wasn’t really hungry.”
The truth was, her stomach grumbled constantly from lack of food, and her dress hung loose in areas it hadn’t when she boarded the train.
When the waiter brought the sandwiches, however, she took her half and passed the plate to Trevor. “Chicken salad. My favorite.”
Eli looked up from his own half sandwich. “You said yesterday that egg salad was your favorite.”
Trevor giggled. “And the day before, roast beef was the best of all.”
Mary smiled at them in turn then took a bite, savoring the creamy filling. It had been a long time since her sparse breakfast of tea and toast. “They’re all my favorite.”
A shadow fell across the table, and she looked up. A man in a dark suit, somewhat wrinkled and dusty, stood beside her.
She set her sandwich down. “Can I help you?”
“A few of us are finding the miles tedious, and we were talking about setting up a Bible study of sorts. Nothing fancy. Just a group of us asking questions, breaking up the time a little. John suggested perhaps you’d like to join us?”
Mary twisted in her seat and looked toward Mr. John. Although indirect, it was the first interaction they’d had in two days. “I’d like that. I’ll have more questions than answers, I’m afraid.”
The man smiled. “That’s fine. I’m a preacher heading for Sacramento. You can keep me in practice for my new flock. Shall we say in an hour?”
“Fine.”
She went back to finishing her sandwich, but her mind was miles ahead. She would be in the same car, sitting in a small group, sharing the Bible. She hadn’t opened the book since her Sunday school days and wasn’t certain she remembered much of what she’d learned then.
But Mr. John would be there.
Indeed, he’d suggested she be there.
She hesitated. Did he want her company?
Or did he simply assume she needed schooling in the Bible?
While he waited for the other passengers to join him in the dining car for the Bible study, John stared at the door, willing Miss Mary to walk through. To smile at him. To—to what?
What had he been thinking to suggest the preacher ask Miss Mary to join them? Would she misconstrue his intentions?
Speaking of which, what were his intentions?
Footsteps approached, and he held his breath.
When the door opened to reveal the preacher, he exhaled.
Maybe she wouldn’t come.
Maybe she’d changed her mind.
After all, she’d changed her mind about meeting someone in California. Surely a decision not to attend a Bible study wasn’t nearly so great.
The preacher sat across from him. “Good to see you showed up. Particularly since it was your idea.”
John had no response for the man.
The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him answer.
For the doors had opened again.
And the woman of his thoughts walked through.
She sat beside the preacher. “So sorry I’m late.”
The older man patted her arm. “I just got here myself.”
John swiped damp palms on his thighs. “And I’ve only been here a minute or so.”
Which wasn’t entirely true.
He’d sat, waiting for her, about forty minutes. Hoping against hope she might appear early. Perhaps they’d have a little time together. Alone.
He chided himself for thinking of being alone with her. Those were not gentlemanly thoughts toward a woman he wasn’t married to.
“The children were a little more unruly than usual. They didn’t like me leaving them. Reminded them of their mother’s illness and passing, I suppose.”
The preacher opened his Bible. “I can see where that might be the case.”
She smiled at John. “But when I told them I was going to learn about God, they settled down on the promise I would share with them on my return.”
The preacher nodded. “Then we should start.”
For the next hour, John struggled to keep his mind on the story of how Nicodemus came to Jesus at night and asked about being born again. But hearing the preacher explain the passage now, John realized he needed this born-again experience to complete his relationship with Christ.
The preacher closed his Bible. “Any other questions?”
John nodded. “How do I get what Nicodemus wanted?”
Miss Mary giggled. “I was going to ask the same thing.”
The preacher grinned. “Well, that was quick.”
John shook his head. “God has been working on me this entire train ride.”
Miss Mary wrung her hands together. “Me also.”
“Then let’s join hands and pray.” The preacher set his Bible down and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, thank You for these young people who are listening to Your voice. Hear them now, Lord, as they silently confess their sin to You and express their need for Your saving grace.”
The preacher continued, but John heard nothing except the crashing thunder of his heart as he held Miss Mary’s hand.
He wasn’t sure he could explain it, but something had changed in their relationship.
And regardless of whether she was the woman for him, one thing was certain: they were now brother and sister in the Lord.
Chapter 9
Mary peered through the window as the train rounded another bend on its way toward Bakersfield. Another couple of hours and she would be at her final destination.
No. Her next destination.
She’d not stay here long. As soon as she had enough money to buy a ticket, she’d leave.
When the train stopped for lunch at Barstow, her first order of business—after getting the children something to eat—was to check at the telegraph office. There was no response from Mr. Stewart.
She checked on the children in the seat next to hers, but they dozed, their tummies full and their minds exhausted with the monotony of the train. Mary glanced up when the door at the end of the car opened and Thomas stepped through.
He tossed her one of his signature smiles. “Good morning, miss. Gettin’ nearer by the mile.” He quirked his chin toward her charges. “ ’Spect you’ll be missin’ these little ones.”
Her eyes misted, and a lump grew in her throat. “I will.”
Thomas studied her a long moment. “Yes, miss, I ’spect it’s occupied your thoughts a great deal.” He patted her shoulder. “Came to tell you the preacher is having one more Bible study in the dining car before we reach Bakersfield in about two hours. Thought you might like to join them.”
Her first inclination was to demur and stay away from the man who occupied her thoughts, but her hunger for the Word of God overrode her hurting heart. If the preacher was correct, only God could ease her heartache and fill her with all she needed. Thinking Mr. John—or any other man, for that matter—could be everything she needed was unfair and unrighteous.
She pressed the wrinkles from her skirt and checked her reflection in the window. “Am I presentable?”
The conductor grinned. “Yes’m, you is always presentable.”
He offered her a hand, which she accepted, and she stood. “Thank you, Thomas. I shall miss you.”
“Aw, Miss Mary, you can come visit me anytime. You know where to find me.”
She shuddered. “After this adventure, I may find another way to travel. Perhaps someday we will be able to fly like the birds.”
He chuckled. “Not until we get our angel wings, Miss Mary.”
She made her way to the dining car and joined the preacher, Mr. John, and another woman and two men gathered around a table. Despite the upheaval in her life and the turmoil in her heart, an unexplainable peace settled on her instantly, and she bowed her head to join the others in prayer.
The preacher was right. Where two or more gathered, God was in their midst.
And she needed Him more than ever if she was going to follow through on her plan to leave the only man she’d ever loved.
Despite his closed eyes and intent focus on the preacher’s words, John sensed the instant Miss Mary entered the car. He couldn’t see her, and she didn’t sit next to him, but he knew she was there.
He was attuned to her as though they’d been married for years.
Just as he’d been with Sophia. Knowing her thoughts before she spoke. Able to finish her sentences, and she, his.
The preacher said the “amen,” then John raised his head and opened his eyes.
And caught her staring at him.
His heart leaped, but when she looked away, his happiness escaped like a leaky balloon.
The preacher cleared his throat. “Today we’re going to talk about joy. Joy is not dependent on our circumstances, whereas happiness is. To be happy, a complicated set of parameters has to be in place. What makes me happy may not make you happy. Happiness is a lot like your sense of humor. You might think a situation is funny but somebody else doesn’t. Does that make sense?”
One of the men nodded. “Sure. It’s like me and my wife. She laughs at the silliest things, like one of the kids brings a few weeds into the house, but I think the kid should be doing his chores and not wasting time.”
The preacher nodded. “Exactly. But I bet you get a kick out of seeing a new calf born, while your wife doesn’t.”
“Sure. She knows we need the calves, but it doesn’t make her happy.”
John leaned forward. “So explain how happiness and joy are different, Preacher.”
The older man tapped his own chest. “Joy comes from within, while happiness comes from outside. Joy comes from knowing God is in control no matter what. You can have joy in the midst of a huge problem, like a mudslide, or a tornado, or a sickness.”
John sat back and thought about that. He’d surely lacked joy when Sophia got sick. All he could think about was her leaving him and their daughters, going somewhere better, and him left behind to hurt, to grieve, to wake up in a cold bed.
He shook his head. “I don’t see how knowing God is in control could give a body joy in bad times.”
The preacher studied him a long moment. “You lost your wife, didn’t you?”
John nodded. “Right. There was no joy in that.”
“But perhaps if you’d known God then like you know Him now, you could see how He was working in the midst of that struggle to bring about something good. Can you think of just one good thing that came out of that?”
Words to deny the preacher’s teaching flew to his tongue, but then he met Miss Mary’s eyes. Yes, something good had come from Sophia’s passing. He’d never have met Miss Mary otherwise. Never known he could love again. Never known he could look forward to a future with any kind of—of joy. “Yes.”
The preacher nodded. He glanced at each person around the table in turn. “No doubt you all can come up with the same answer.”
Each one nodded and agreed their outlook had changed in recent days.
Even Miss Mary.
But what had changed for her?
Did that smile on her lips have anything to do with him?
The train whistle blew, and Mary gathered her reticule and carpetbag. She turned to Eli, who urged the children down the aisle. “Sit down, Eli, until the train stops.”
“Miss Mary, getting these two anywhere is like herding cats.” He swatted Trevor’s backside. “Have you got your satchel? I told you to look after your own stuff.”
Trevor stopped and turned around, his bottom lip jutting out. “Don’t smack me, Eli. That hurts my feelings.” He rubbed at the back of his britches. “And my butt.”
Mary laughed. “No slapping. No hard words. Let’s sit until the train stops. We don’t want to fall and skin our knees.”
The three perched on one seat and waited, albeit not patiently. Elbows in ribs and whispered threats mingled with complaints proved what she’d known all along—as much as she loved them and thought them extra special, they were simply three ordinary children tired of this adventure and ready to move on to the next.
Much like herself. She was more than ready to be off this train. She’d find cheap housing for a few weeks and a job to pay enough for her to move on. Shouldn’t be difficult. She had many skills that should be in demand in the rugged West.
The train slowed and houses came into view on both sides of the track. The children pressed against the glass, now arguing over who should sit next to the window, over who saw what, and over which house was their uncle’s.
Mary smiled. What she wouldn’t give to have her future all planned out as they did. Or as Mr. John did. But she’d not heard him utter one word about love or special feelings for this woman. Perhaps love wasn’t so important for men. Maybe they could be satisfied so long as someone cooked and cleaned and raised the children for them.
After all, wasn’t that Mr. Stewart’s offer?
The train stopped amid the squealing of brakes and iron wheels on the rails. A great cloud of steam enveloped the train and the station but was soon carried off on the breeze. The children pushed past the other passengers, and Mary hurried to keep up with them.
Outside, Mr. John stood on the platform. He lowered each child to the wooden surface and then offered a hand to assist her. She hesitated, unsure whether she could risk her heart to one more assault, but his smile communicated simple help and nothing more.
She slipped her fingers into his and stepped down.
A young woman stepped out of the shadowy interior of the depot station, a toddler by one hand, a baby in her arms. Mr. John hurried to them, swung the toddler in the air then kissed the wee one. His fiancée was beautiful.