by Mary Daheim
“Fascinating,” Judith said. “Are we late for breakfast?”
Roy shook his head. “The call for the nine-thirty sitting will be announced shortly. You have plenty of time. I’ll make up your room while you’re gone.”
Judith had finished her makeup when Renie came out of the shower. “Did I hear you chatting up somebody?”
“Roy. He was explaining why the train…” She stared at her cousin. “You’re dressed. What did you do, take a shower with your clothes on?”
“Of course.” Renie looked in the mirror over the sink as she applied a light touch of foundation. “You think I want to be naked when my body is found?”
“You’re nutty enough to do it,” Judith said.
Renie swiftly wielded her mascara wand, added lipstick, and ran a brush through her short hair. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
There was no waiting line for the dining car, though only a few tables were vacant. “All clear,” Renie said before a waiter motioned for them to be seated. “No red Pepper hair, no Wayne Whoozits.”
The cousins had the table to themselves. After making their breakfast choices, they sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the mountain scenery as the train cruised along the outer edges of the park.
“I’ve never been to Glacier,” Judith said. “Dan and I couldn’t afford pleasure trips. If his mother hadn’t paid our way to Arizona, we’d never have seen her. She refused to go anywhere that wasn’t sunny and warm. Dan’s grandma lived closer to us, but our last visit was sabotaged by the 1980 Mount St. Helens volcano eruption. We were forced to turn back just twenty miles from her home.”
“I forget the fun you never had,” Renie remarked. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have recommended Glacier to Dan. Being four hundred pounds, he wasn’t the outdoor type. In fact, Bill and I had our own problems. If you hike in Glacier, you take along bells to warn off the bears. Gallons of insect repellent don’t faze the park’s bugs. The deerflies were bigger than our kids. We stayed in so-called rustic cabins—translate that as old shacks with no air-conditioning. Spectacular scenery, of course, including the Going-to-the-Sun Road unless you get behind an RV from Minnesota with a driver who’s never traversed anything steeper than Loring Hill in Minneapolis. But the lakes and glaciers and meadows are worth it, even for us spoiled Pacific Northwesterners. It’s been twenty years since we made the trip, so I—” Renie stopped.
“Are you listening? You’re staring like a zombie.”
Judith shook herself. “What? Sorry. I thought I recognized someone.”
“Who?”
“A young woman. Maybe she’s from Heraldsgate Hill. So many rich young techies have moved into the neighborhood.”
Renie nodded. “Our dirty little blue-collar secret leaked out after Bill and I bought our house forty years ago. Back then we could afford a view and a double lot. Sometimes when I’m on the avenue, I feel like a dinosaur. Condos, apartments, high-end restaurants, and chichi shops are everywhere.”
“Don’t remind me, especially after last summer’s debacle with Herself and her ill-fated condo venture.” Judith glimpsed a trio of deer grazing in a meadow as yet untouched by snow. “Did you see that?” she asked Renie.
“What?”
“The deer. They seem so tame. They didn’t even look at the train.”
“Their habitat may be shrinking,” Renie said. “Remember last winter when a cougar wandered onto a school playground by the city limits? And a bear showed up at an Eastside car lot? I wouldn’t want to haggle over price with him.”
The waiter arrived with Judith’s cheese omelet, sausages, hash brown potatoes, orange juice, and toast. Renie had ordered pancakes, bacon, eggs, and apple juice. Both cousins focused not only on their food, but on the alpine scenery. No one joined them, and by the time they finished their meal, they’d made a brief stop in the small town of Browning.
Renie pointed to a sign for East Glacier. “From October to April, the only stop for this side of the park is here. We’re very close to the Canadian border, where Glacier becomes Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta.”
Judith laughed. “Did you memorize all this before we left?”
“No,” Renie said, indignant. “I like geography. It drives Bill nuts when we travel. He’d ignore me if I told him we were going over Niagara Falls in a barrel.”
“I appreciate it,” Judith said, starting to get up. “Is that an elk?”
Renie leaned over to look past her cousin and glimpsed the elk drinking out of a meandering stream. “Wow—those are some antlers.”
“I wish I had my camera,” Judith said, following Renie into the aisle. “I should’ve put it in my carry-on instead of in my big suitcase.”
“I’ll get it from the baggage area,” Renie said as they exited the car.
“Thanks,” Judith said. “The camera’s in a side pocket.”
The cousins parted company by their room. The beds had been put away in their absence. Judith opened the newspaper that had been delivered earlier, but decided the scenery was more enjoyable than the daily dose of bad news. They’d crossed the Continental Divide. The landscape was changing as the mountainous terrain sloped downward. Glaciers, meadows, and lakes were left behind. At the edge of the Great Plains, Judith gazed at great swaths of farmland that merged into distant buttes on the far horizon. After a few miles she was surprised to see oil wells. She had forgotten Montana’s deposits of oil and gas.
“It looks like Texas,” she told Renie when her cousin returned.
“A real change after Glacier,” Renie said, handing over the camera case. “The Cut Bank stop is about ten minutes—”
Judith interrupted her cousin. “This isn’t my camera.”
“What?” Renie looked puzzled. “It was in your suitcase. Did you bring more than one?”
“No,” Judith replied. “It’s not my camera case, either.”
“It was in the pocket you described. How many cameras do you have?”
“Two. Mine’s an older model,” Judith explained. “I gave Joe a digital camera for Christmas, but it isn’t this one.”
Renie sat down. “Could it belong to Mike and Kristin?”
“Maybe. I can’t recall if they intended to take pictures of the parade.”
Renie shrugged. “They might’ve.” She studied the camera closely. “Top-of-the-line. I’ve been on shoots with pros who use these. They cost several grand. Would Mike pay that much to photograph his kids dressed as cardboard boxes?”
“I doubt it, unless the forest service provides cameras for rangers.”
“Call Mike at the next stop,” Renie suggested. “If he lost this camera, he’ll be frantic.” She checked her watch. “We’ll get to Shelby in less than an hour.”
“I can’t use my cell phone on the train?”
“Poor or even no signals in these wide-open spaces.” Renie grinned. “Otherwise, my mother would’ve called me ten times since we left town.”
Judith nodded. Aunt Deb refused to believe that the umbilical cord between mother and daughter had ever been severed. “How hard was it to tell your mother you were leaving town for so long?”
“I tried something different this time,” Renie said. “I told her Bill and I were going on a ’round-the-world cruise and we wouldn’t be back until February. Naturally, she pitched a fit. The next day I let her know that the trip had been shortened by a month or so due to schedule changes. After another day or two, I said we’d decided to take a train trip across Canada for six weeks so we could be home for Christmas. Finally, on Friday I told her we couldn’t afford to take such a leisurely vacation, but by a stroke of luck Bill had been asked to speak at a conference in Boston and we’d be gone only a couple of weeks. She was so relieved that she stopped moaning and groaning.”
“I lucked out,” Judith said. “My mother surprised me by not making a fuss. Frankly, that worries me.”
Renie nodded. “That is odd. Is she feeling okay?”
“I think so,” Ju
dith said. “She always perks up when Mike’s family visits.” She glanced outside. “We’re stopping. Can I get off to call Mike without going through the lower level in our car?”
“This is Cut Bank. You won’t have time. Wait for Shelby. We’ll go out through the other sleeper on our way to lunch. That’ll save you extra steps.”
“Did you bring a camera?” Judith asked.
Renie shook her head. “Cameras are as bad as…clocks. Why do you think I hire photographers for my graphic design business?”
Cut Bank was yet another small town. Judith marveled at the vastness of the land—and the absence of inhabitants along the train’s route. Less than fifteen minutes after the brief stop at the depot, the train slowed down again. “What’s happening?” she asked. “We don’t have a stop around here, do we?”
“No,” Renie replied. “Maybe there’s something on the tracks.” Judith shuddered. “I hope it’s not a body.”
Renie shot her cousin a disgusted look. “You’d be delighted if it was. It’s happened at least twice in broad daylight on my train travels—a spectacular way to commit suicide while screwing up everybody else as a farewell gesture.”
“You really are heartless,” Judith said.
“No, I’m not.” Renie paused. “Well…sometimes. I’m also realistic.”
The train came to a full stop. Except for more oil rigs and some scattered buildings in the distance, Judith couldn’t see anything unusual. She was silent for at least a couple of minutes. Renie had picked up her copy of the Doris Kearns Goodwin book on Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. “Should we ask Roy what’s going on?” Judith asked.
Renie didn’t look up. “No.”
“I’ll go check the other side of the train,” Judith murmured.
“Fine. Bye.”
When Judith opened the door, she heard voices in the corridor beyond the stairwell. She recognized one of the speakers as Jim Downey. A quick glance through the window on the opposite side of the train revealed nothing of interest. Judith walked past the stairwell and saw the Downeys talking to a young Asian couple she hadn’t yet seen.
“Anyone know why we stopped?” she asked the foursome.
“Hi, Judith,” Sharon said. “These folks think we’re waiting for a freight to go by. They’re old hands at train travel.”
“My cousin wasn’t concerned,” Judith said.
The younger woman nodded. “Freight trains still have right-of-way. Frankly, they should change that. Passengers have connections to make and people meeting them. A brief delay won’t spoil food or create panic if new cars are an hour late getting to the dealership.”
Jim nodded. “Judith, meet Matt and Laurie Chan from St. Paul.”
Judith shook hands with the Chans. “I haven’t ridden on a train in ages,” she confessed. “I forgot how much fun it is to meet new people when you’re traveling. On an airplane you can’t mingle with anyone other than your seatmates.” Judith turned to Sharon. “Are Matt and Laurie cardplayers? Maybe they could join us tonight after dinner.”
The Chans shook their heads. “Matt’s obsessed with video games,” Laurie said. “The only card game I ever played was Old Maid. Is it still called that? Or did they change it to SWF to be politically correct?”
“Hey,” Matt said, “what’s with the W? How about us?”
Laurie playfully punched her husband’s upper arm. “You’re right. How about an update called Dysfunctional Families?”
“Speaking of functioning,” Jim said, “has anybody seen Roy in the past half hour? Our sound system’s not working. We turned the call light on, but he hasn’t responded.”
Judith and the Chans shook their heads. “Maybe he’s on a break after putting the beds away,” Laurie said.
“He’s very conscientious,” Sharon said. “He’ll show up.” Judith murmured an excuse and headed back to her own compartment. She realized that she still hadn’t seen the Kloppenburgs or the passengers in the adjacent roomette who’d boarded after midnight.
“We’re probably waiting for a freight train,” she informed Renie upon entering their compartment.
“So I figured.” Renie put her book aside. “We’ll be late getting to Shelby.”
Ten minutes later, the freight rumbled along. Judith gazed at what seemed like an endless passage of every color and type of flatcars, refrigerator cars, ore cars, and closed freight cars. As the train disappeared, she heard voices in the corridor. She got up and moved to the door she’d left open.
“What now?” Renie asked.
“Why aren’t we moving?”
“It takes a while,” Renie replied. “Maybe the crew went out for cigarettes.”
The flippant response didn’t satisfy Judith. She went into the corridor, where the conductor was talking to a couple in Western outfits. The woman had curly blond hair under her ten-gallon hat; the man was also fair-haired, judging from the long sideburns Judith could see under his matching hat. “I’ll see to it,” Mr. Peterson said. “We’ve had some electrical problems in this car today.”
“Thanks,” the man responded as the train began to move again. The couple turned around and nodded at Judith as they moved past her to the end of the car. “Excuse me,” she called to the conductor.
He looked up from a small handheld electronic device. “Yes?”
“Are they the Johnsons? Or is it Johnston?” Judith asked, noting that the Western-clad couple had gone into the last compartment.
“Johnston,” Mr. Peterson replied. “Is your sound system working?”
“We haven’t checked,” Judith said. “Should we?”
He smiled. “Only if you want to hear announcements or a spiel about the points of interest along this route. Oh—music, too.”
Judith smiled back. “My cousin has taken this train several times, so she knows about the territory. The last time I traveled on the Empire Builder was on our way to New York almost forty years ago. We wanted to spend a few days there before we sailed to Europe.”
Mr. Peterson nodded. “You have your own travel guide. Excuse me, Mrs. Flynn, but I have to see what we can do about our electrical problem. Apparently it’s only in this car.”
“Of course.” Judith entered the compartment.
“Well?” Renie said, looking up from her book. “How many people just became your new best friends?”
“Test the sound system,” Judith said. “It may not be working.”
“Neither am I.” Renie resumed reading.
“I’ll check it,” Judith said. She braced herself on the chair arm, leaning to reach the controls. “Nothing. I should let Mr. Peterson know.”
Renie glanced up from her book. “Mr. Peterson?”
“The conductor.” She sat down hastily as the train began moving at a much faster clip. “We must be trying to make up time.”
“It can be done.” Renie looked at her watch.
“I saw the Johnstons,” Judith said. “They’re next to the Kloppenburgs.”
“Good for them. Excuse me, Pearl Harbor just got bombed.” Renie continued reading.
Judith sighed. It was a relief not to have to cope with everyday crises and problems. She needed a break from routine. She was seeing parts of the country that she’d either never seen before or couldn’t remember. No one—except Renie, of course—could make demands, criticize, argue, or otherwise ruffle her feathers. It was so peaceful on the train. So quiet. So…
Judith grimaced. Am I nuts? she wondered. Do I need chaos? Am I missing the often stressful ebb and flow of an ordinary day at the B&B?
Renie again looked up from her book. “Now what?”
Judith feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“I know that look.” Renie closed her book. “I’ve seen it since you were five. It’s the I-don’t-want-to-be-here-but-I-have-to-pretend-I-do look. The first time I saw it was during Mass when we were kids. You couldn’t sit still, you climbed up on the kneelers, you kept bugging me, and once you literally flew out of the
pew and ended up in the center aisle while Father O’Reilly was giving his sermon. You still haven’t outgrown it.”
Judith was indignant. “That’s unfair. I like going to Mass. It restores me. I need the peace and the grace of the sacraments. I haven’t fidgeted in church since I was ten.”
“Try sixteen.” Renie’s was bemused. “You thrive on activity. After your hip surgery, Joe told me he might have to handcuff you to the sofa.”
“I don’t like being waited on,” Judith asserted. “I feel helpless, and it makes me feel guilty when—”
A tap on the door interrupted her. Renie held up a hand. “Sit and stay,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
Judith saw Mr. Peterson in the corridor. “Mrs. Jones?” he said warily.
“Yes?” Renie sounded benign.
Apparently overcoming his fear that Renie might be still be in a combative mood, he smiled in Judith’s direction. “Have either of you seen your attendant, Roy, in the past hour or two?”
“Not since before breakfast,” Judith said.
“Oh.” Mr. Peterson’s voice was faint. “Is your sound system working?”
“No,” Judith replied. “I meant to tell you,” she added, with a reproachful glance at Renie, “but I was delayed.”
The conductor nodded. “We’re looking into it. If you see Roy, would you ask him to contact me?”
“Sure,” Renie said, looking as if she was about to close the door.
Judith got to her feet. “Sir?”
“Yes?” Mr. Peterson’s smile was forced.
“When do we get to Shelby? I need to use my cell.”
“Ten minutes,” he replied. “We’ve made up time. It’s a fairly brief stop, so stay by the train.”
“I will,” Judith said. “Thanks.”
Renie slid the door closed. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” Judith was still standing, bracing herself on the sink. “It seems like we just finished breakfast.”