She nodded, looking wise beyond her years. “We’re going to spend Christmas with my grandma Gibson in Boston.”
“Kate.” A frazzled young woman approached the little girl. “I hope you weren’t bothering this lady.”
“Not at all,” Cathy assured her.
“My grandma said Santa was coming tonight and bringing me lots of presents.” Kate’s sweet face lit up with excitement. “Santa’ll still come, won’t he, even if the train is late?”
“Of course he will,” the child’s mother told her in a tone that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d reassured her daughter.
“He’ll find us even in the storm?”
“He has Rudolph’s nose to guide his sleigh, remember?”
Kate nodded.
Cathy let her knitting rest in her lap.
“Can I read to you?” the youngster asked, her eyes huge. “Please?”
“Why, I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.” Cathy could, but it was clear the restless child needed something to take her mind off the situation, and she was happy to listen. Having grandchildren, she could well appreciate the difficulty of keeping a five-year-old entertained in conditions such as these.
Kate raced for her backpack and returned a moment later with her precious book.
“Thank you,” Kate’s mother whispered. “I’m Elise Jones.”
“Hello, Elise. Cathy Norris.”
Kate scooted onto the bench between Cathy and her mother and eagerly opened the book. She placed her finger on the first word and started reading aloud with a fluency that suggested this was a much-read and much-loved story.
Cathy smiled down on the little girl. Soon all this frustration and delay would be over. Mr. Kemper would come out from behind his desk and announce that the tracks had been repaired and they’d be on their way. In a few hours she’d be with Madeline and her family, all of this behind her. Somehow, listening to Kate read soothed her, made her feel that today’s problems were tolerable. Inconvenient but definitely tolerable.
Kate’s voice slowly faded and her eyes closed. She slumped over, her head against Cathy’s side. Seconds later the book slipped from her lap and onto the floor.
“Oh, thank heaven, she’s going to take a nap, after all,” Elise whispered, getting carefully to her feet. She lifted Kate’s small legs onto the bench and tucked a spare sweater beneath her head.
“Children can be quite a handful,” Cathy murmured, remembering the first time she and Ron had watched their two granddaughters for an entire day while Madeline and Brian attended an investment workshop. The kids had been picked up by four that afternoon, but she and Ron went to bed before eight o’clock, exhausted.
“Being a single mother is no piece of cake,” Elise told her. “When Greg and I divorced, I didn’t have a clue what would happen. Then he lost his job and had to manage on his unemployment check. He just started working again—but he’s so far behind on everything. Now he’s having trouble making the child-support payments on time, which only complicates things.” Embarrassed, she looked away as if she regretted what she’d said. “We wouldn’t have Christmas if it wasn’t for my mother. I certainly can’t afford gifts this year.”
The pain that flashed in the younger woman’s eyes couldn’t be hidden. Cathy realized that, in many ways, Elise’s divorce had been as devastating as a death. Feeling a kinship with her, she reached over and squeezed her hand.
Elise recovered quickly, then said with forced enthusiasm, “I’ve always wanted to know how to knit.”
“Would you like me to teach you?” Cathy asked, seizing upon the idea. She’d successfully taught her own three daughters and carried an extra set of needles in her knitting bag. Now was ideal, seeing as they had nothing but time on their hands and Kate was sleeping.
“Now?” Elise asked, flustered. “I mean, I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much trouble?”
“Of course not. I’ve found knitting calms my nerves, especially these past few months since my husband died.”
“I’m sorry about your husband,” Elise said, real sympathy in her voice.
“Yes, I am, too. I miss him dreadfully.” With a sense of purpose Cathy reached for her spare needles. “Would you like to start now?”
Elise nodded. “Why not?”
Cathy pulled out a ball of yarn. “Then let me show you how to cast on stitches. It isn’t the least bit difficult.”
Len had trouble not watching the clock. They’d been in Abbott a total of four hours, with no further word regarding their situation. The stationmaster, Clayton Kemper, had turned out to be a kindhearted soul. He’d made a fresh pot of coffee and offered it to anyone who wanted a cup, free of charge.
Len had declined. Stressed as he was, the last thing he needed was caffeine. Plenty of others took advantage of Kemper’s generosity, though. They were a motley group, Len noted. The widow, dressed in her gray wool coat with her knitting and her sad but friendly smile. The divorced mother and her little girl. The grumpy sales rep. The young couple with the baby, the hippie and his wife, the elderly black couple plus an assortment of others.
Kemper walked by with the coffeepot on a tray. “You sure I can’t interest you in a cup, young man?”
“I’m sure.”
“I found a deck of cards. How about that?”
Len nodded eagerly. “That’d be great.” Cards would be a welcome way to pass the time. He sometimes played solitaire and enjoyed two or three different versions of the game. At the mention of cards, the sales rep, who sat close by, looked up from his laptop. Maybe Len could talk two or three of the others into a game of pinochle or poker.
“You play pinochle?” he asked Matt.
“And canasta, hearts, bridge—whatever you want.”
“I wouldn’t mind playing,” Nick volunteered.
“Come to think of it, I’ve got an old card table in the back room,” Kemper said when he returned with the cards. “And a couple of chairs, too, if you need ’em. I should have thought of this earlier. You folks must be bored out of your minds.”
A fourth man joined them, and with a little rearranging they soon had the table set up. That was followed by the sound of cards being shuffled and the occasional scrape of a chair as they settled down to a friendly game of pinochle.
Kelly Berry’s arms ached from holding the baby. The carrier seat was still on the train, and she hadn’t asked Nick to bring it in. He’d already gone outside once and seemed reluctant to venture into the storm again. Besides, he was busy playing cards.
Kelly wondered, not for the first time, if they’d ever adjust to parenthood. The whole experience was so…different from what she’d expected. Desperately longing for a child of their own, they’d dreamed and hungered to the point that Kelly felt their marriage would be incomplete without a family. Now, after three months with a fussy, colicky infant, she was ready to admit her spirits were the lowest they’d been in years.
She’d always believed a baby would bring her and Nick closer together. The baby would be a living symbol of their love and commitment to each other, the culmination of their marriage. Instead, Brittany seemed to have driven a wedge between them. Not long ago their world had revolved entirely around each other; these days, it revolved around Brittany. Caring for the baby demanded all their energy, all their time.
Her arms tightened around her daughter, and a surge of love filled her heart. She and Nick felt overwhelmed because this was so new, Kelly told herself. In a few months everything would be easier—for both of them. While confident of Nick’s love, Kelly knew he found it difficult to deal with the changes that had come into their marriage since the adoption.
“Would you like me to hold the baby for a while?” The older woman sat down next to her. “I’m Cathy Norris. You must be exhausted.”
“Kelly Berry.” She hesitated. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Cathy said, taking the sleeping infant from her arms. She gazed down at Brittany and smiled. “She
’s certainly beautiful, and her little red outfit is delightful.”
“Thank you,” Kelly said, truly grateful. She’d enjoyed dressing Brittany for the holiday season. She could’ve spent a fortune if Nick had let her, but her ever-practical husband had been the voice of reason. Not that he wasn’t guilty of spoiling their daughter.
With an ease that Kelly envied, Cathy Norris held Brittany against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back. Brittany shifted her head to one side and her tiny mouth made small sucking sounds. Once more Kelly’s heart stirred with love.
She felt someone’s gaze and glanced up to find Nick watching her. When he realized he had her attention, he smiled. His eyes softened as he looked at their daughter. They would be all right, Kelly thought. This was their dream; it was just that after waiting and planning all these years, they hadn’t been quite as ready for the reality as they’d assumed.
Clayton Kemper walked out of the station and returned almost immediately, a shovel in his hand. “Good news!” he shouted.
Every head in the room shot up, every face alight with expectation, Kelly’s included. Some people were already on their feet, reaching for bags of colorfully wrapped gifts.
“The storm’s died down. It’s stopped snowing.”
“Does that mean we can get out of here any sooner?” Matt McHugh demanded.
“Well, it’s bound to help the repair crew.”
The happy anticipation sank to the pit of Kelly’s stomach. Oh, please, she prayed, don’t let us end up spending our first Christmas with Brittany stuck in a train depot. Don’t let this be our Christmas.
Chapter 5
“O Christmas Tree”
The news that the snow had stopped falling should have cheered Len Dawber, but it didn’t. Instead, his mood took an immediate dive. He’d figured that with the storm passing, the train would leave soon. It didn’t appear to be the case.
His interest in the card game died and he got up to give his seat to someone else, but no one seemed keen to play anymore. Before long, Nick Berry had the deck of cards and sat alone, flipping through them in a listless game of solitaire.
His frustration mounting, Len approached the counter. Clayton Kemper glanced up. “Can I get you anything?”
“How about some information?” Matt McHugh asked, moving to Len’s side. “We’ve been here six hours. There must be something you can tell us by now.” He clenched his fist and rested it on the counter. “You’ve got to realize how impossible this situation is for us.”
Kemper shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Isn’t there someone you could phone?” The plaintive voice of a woman came from behind them. Len looked over his shoulder and recognized the mother of the little boy, who still clung to her side.
“Find out what you can,” Matt insisted. “You owe us that much.”
“Surely there’s someone you can call,” the elderly black man said.
Tension filled the room as more people stood up and started walking about. The baby Cathy Norris held awoke suddenly and shattered the air with a piercing cry. Cathy tried to quiet the infant, but it did no good. The young mother couldn’t do any better. The baby’s cries clawed at already taut nerves.
“Kindly keep that baby quiet, would you?” Len wasn’t sure who’d said that; painful as the baby’s shrieking was, he felt a fleeting sympathy for the mother.
“Do something,” Nick snapped at his wife.
“I’m trying,” Kelly said, glaring back at him with a hurt look.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Nick said, and stalked outside, letting the door slam in his wake.
“We need information,” Len pressed Kemper again.
“At least give us an idea how much longer it could be,” Matt added. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”
Kemper was clearly at a loss and for an instant Len felt sympathy for him, too, but he felt even worse for himself. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks. He wanted it to be the most beautiful and romantic evening of his life. Instead, he’d probably be spending it in this train station somewhere in New Hampshire.
Kemper raised his hands to quiet the murmurs of discontent. “I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can find out.”
“You should have done that long before now,” Matt said irritably.
Len was in full agreement. This damned waiting had gone on long enough. The minute he had a definite answer, he’d call Amy again. Even if he didn’t have an answer, he was phoning Amy. He needed to hear the sound of her voice, needed to know this nightmare would soon be over and they’d be together—if not for Christmas, then soon.
Len returned to his seat and Matt followed him. “This isn’t exactly my idea of Christmas Eve,” the older man muttered, more to himself than his companion.
“I don’t think any of us could have anticipated this.”
It didn’t take Kemper long to connect with someone, Len noticed. The stationmaster was on the phone five minutes. He nodded once in a while, then scowled and wrote something down on a piece of paper. When he’d finished, he walked toward the potbellied stove.
Every eye in the room followed him. “Well,” he said, with a deep expressive sigh, “there really isn’t any news I can give you.”
“No news is good news?” Cathy suggested hopefully.
“No news is no news,” Matt McHugh returned tartly.
“You were talking to someone,” Len said. “They must’ve had something to say…?.”
“Only what I found out earlier, that the break in the line is more serious than was originally determined.”
“Isn’t there anything you can suggest? How long should we expect to wait? Give us your best estimate. Surely you’ve seen breakdowns like this before.” Len’s voice thinned with frustration. He noticed a number of people nodding as he spoke.
“Well,” Kemper said thoughtfully, “you’re right, I have seen plenty of breakdowns over the years. Each one’s different. But we’ve got a full crew working on this one, despite the fact that it’s Christmas Eve.”
“That’s encouraging, anyway,” Elise Jones said. “It isn’t like any of us planned to spend the holidays here, you know.”
“I know, I know.” Kemper looked out over the group and seemed to recognize that he wouldn’t be off the hook until he gave these people some kind of answer. “My best guess is sometime after midnight.”
“Midnight!” Matt shouted.
He wasn’t the only one who reacted with anger. But Len barely reacted at all; he felt as though the wind had been knocked clear out of him. Slowly he sank onto the bench and closed his eyes. He no longer knew if the airline could even get him a seat. Because of the snowstorm he’d missed his original flight. Because of the train’s delay, he hadn’t made the standby flight, either. Nor could he book another. Not until he could give the airline a time.
This felt like the worst day of his life.
Nick knew he was a fool, snapping at his wife in front of a room full of strangers and then stalking out of the train depot like a two-year-old having a tantrum. He’d caught the shocked look in Kelly’s eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior for him, but he’d just been feeling so…on edge. Then he’d lost control because someone had shouted at Kelly to keep Brittany quiet.
What upset him was that he’d been thinking the same thing himself. He wanted her to do something, anything, to stop Brittany’s crying. The baby had been contentedly asleep for a few hours, and he supposed he’d been lulled into a false sense of peace. Then she’d awakened, and it seemed that every ounce of composure he’d managed to scrape together had vanished.
He’d say one thing for his daughter. She had an incredible sense of timing. Why she’d pick that precise moment to start wailing, he’d never know. She was a fragile little thing, but obviously had the lungs of a tuba player.
It had felt as though everyone in the room was glaring at him and Kelly with malice, although in retrospect
, he thought his own frustrations had probably made him misread their reactions. Everything in life had come hard for Nick; why should fatherhood be any different? He’d been raised in a series of foster homes and the only reason he’d been able to go on with his schooling was because of a scholarship. He’d graduated while holding down two part-time jobs and now worked as a scientist for a pharmaceutical company. He’d met Kelly when they were both in college. He still considered it a miracle that this beautiful woman loved him. For years now, her love had been the constant in his life, his emotional anchor, his sanctuary.
The intense cold had soaked through his coat. He kicked at the snow, depressed and angry with himself. Kelly deserved a better husband, and Brittany sure as hell needed a more loving father.
He was about to go back inside the station when the door opened and Clayton Kemper walked out.
“You’re leaving?” Nick asked, shocked that the stationmaster would desert them at a time like this.
Clayton Kemper looked more than a little guilty. “My shift was over an hour ago and the missus is wanting me home.”
Talk about deserting the ship. “Someone else is coming, right?”
“Oh, sure. Don’t you worry. Someone’ll be by to check up on you folks, but it might not be for a while.” Having said that, he headed down the steps, then glanced back over his shoulder and called, “Merry Christmas.”
Nick stared at the man in disbelief. This had to be the worst Christmas of his entire life! Trapped with a cranky newborn and a wife who refused to see reason. If it’d been up to him, the three of them would at least have been in a motel room, comfortable and warm. But Kelly hadn’t wanted to leave the station, certain the repairs wouldn’t take long. Now it was too late. The guy with the long hair and his wife had already made inquiries. Apparently every hotel for miles around was full.
This optimistic bent of Kelly’s had always been a problem. He’d been ready to give up on the fertility clinic long before she agreed. The expense had been horrific, and he didn’t mean just the financial aspects. Emotionally Kelly was a wreck two weeks out of every month. Only when he was able to talk her into accepting their situation and applying to an adoption agency had she gotten off the emotional roller coaster.