by Leisha Kelly
Leah’s words were steady, her face was set. She even smiled as she spoke to her daughter and said the sort of things that make perfect sense to put a child at ease when her mother is going away. But Marigold knew as well as I did that something else was afoot. At the train station, she drew me aside again.
“Josiah. I know I ask an awful lot of you. And this time you might think it’s just too much. Upon my honor, it was just a curious accident that you both ended up at the Kurchers’ at the same time. I didn’t try to do that. And I’m not trying to put you together now. But – ”
She glanced over at Leah, standing stiff beside Mr. Abraham, one hand still holding Eliza’s hand, the other white-knuckled around a rail.
“What? What on earth is going on?”
“You don’t have to be anywhere else today, do you?”
“No. You can’t be asking – ”
“Josiah, you’re allowed to ride the train free because of your job. I was hoping she’d be better and that I wouldn’t have to ask any more of you. But couldn’t you go as far as St. Louis? Then take the return and be back tonight. See her that far for me, could you, please? I’m just not sure she’s going to manage very well alone.”
“Why? Is she sick?”
“No. Not really.”
“Then what’s wrong? It’s a straight ride to St. Louis. No changes until then. And she made the trip on the way out here.”
“Thank the good Lord for that miracle of grace.”
I could hear the train in the distance now. Leah seemed to tip for a moment toward the rail, but she steadied herself again.
“There’s something wrong with her, isn’t there?” My heart was heavy with the thought. She was young. Beautiful. With a beautiful fatherless daughter.
“Not in the usual manner,” Marigold admitted. “You’ll see. You’ll understand soon enough. Only please agree for now, Josiah. For that little girl’s sake over there. And hurry up about it. Before the train gets in sight.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. But she persuaded me, like always. Somehow, for some reason, this was very important to her. She’d call it a ministry later. She’d say I was the tool of God again. I didn’t care about any of that. But I did care about little Eliza being afraid. And somehow I knew that it wouldn’t be so bad if I did what Marigold asked.
“I think I need to ride to St. Louis today,” I announced when Marigold and I rejoined the others. “Hope you won’t mind having me along on the same train.”
Leah looked confused for a moment, glancing first at me, and then at Marigold. I thought she might protest. She did not seem pleased. And yet she nodded her head placidly, accepting.
“Are you gonna see my grandpa too?” Eliza asked with wonder.
“No. I’ve got other business. I’ll just be on the same train for part of the trip.”
“That’s good,” Eliza decided. “I don’t think my mommy likes trains. But you know everything about them. So you can help if she needs anything.”
“Oh, it’s not far,” I said glibly. “Can’t imagine what she’d need from me.”
Leah looked long at me this time but didn’t say anything. The knuckles of her one hand were still wrapped white around that railing. Then the train whistle blew shrill and loud, and she closed her eyes. I don’t know why I felt she might pass out. Marigold hadn’t told me what was wrong, but Leah seemed suddenly frail to me, utterly weak and broken. I put my arm behind her just to steady her, hoping she wouldn’t be offended at me. I didn’t want her to fall.
The good-byes were short and sweet because the train never lingered long in Andersonville. Leah smiled and waved for her daughter, at the same time fumbling to put one foot in front of the other on the metal steps. Finally we were onboard and she plopped into the nearest seat.
“What’s wrong?”
She ignored me completely, looking out the window and waving for her daughter, a smile still on her face. Only when we began to move did the façade begin to crumble. I knew the moment when she could no longer see Eliza, because her face fell, her shoulders sagged, and she came apart in a mess of tears.
I had no idea what to do now. Joe Pesh, the weekend porter, was checking for tickets. He didn’t bother looking at my worker’s paper. He just pointed at Leah, surmising that we must be together. But I didn’t know where her ticket was, and she was way beyond us in her sobs, so I asked him to come back in a while if he would. Of course he gave me a strange look.
Marigold had no idea what she’d asked of me. I’d not live this down in a long time. The men I worked with would all soon know that their fire man had hopped a train on Saturday with a hopelessly crying woman.
I sat beside her. “Leah. Don’t mean to bother you, but the porter’ll be back in about two minutes. He’ll want to see your ticket.”
At first I didn’t think she’d heard me. But she fumbled with her bag and couldn’t seem to open it, so I reached to help her. Our hands touched for a moment, and she pulled away. I realized she was shaking.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “S-side p-pocket.”
She seemed barely able to catch her breath. But she’d given me permission after a fashion, so I searched through the bag’s side pocket and found the needed ticket. Then, so the porter wouldn’t have to come back this way and see her like this again, I got up and took it to him.
He checked the ticket and gave me a wry smile. “She seems just thrilled to be traveling with you, champ.”
“Shut up. I’m just doing a favor seeing her as far as St. Louis. She’s ailing.”
I left him and his stupid grin behind me and returned to Leah, not sure if I should sit beside her again or not. She was leaning against the wall looking scared and tiny, her crying stilled a little, though the tears were still wet on her cheeks. I stood in the aisle with my hand on the back of a seat, wondering what to do.
She looked up at me, and I could still see the fear in her eyes.
“Tell me about the train wreck,” she said in a voice so soft I barely heard.
“Are you sure you want to hear that? Right now?”
She nodded, but tears clouded her eyes again.
“Um . . . a car was crossing the tracks, that’s all. They didn’t seem to see us comin’ and just pulled out in front of us. A train can’t stop fast, you know. No way for that. So the car got mangled pretty bad . . .”
I stopped, watching her eyes. “You don’t really need to hear this.”
She sniffed, fumbled with a hanky, and tried to wipe her eyes. “Two – two people died?”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess they were killed instant.”
She took a deep breath, and her shaking hands tried to close together around the twisted hanky. I thought she might say something about John’s death, or about what was making her seem so weak. But she didn’t. She only laid her head against the wall and closed her eyes.
Just then the engineer sounded the whistle, which was nothing to me, but Leah gasped and jumped like a wild beast was threatening. Her arms flew up to cover her face and head.
I sat beside her. “Are you all right?”
She didn’t move. She didn’t answer. Lord, what in the world is the matter with this woman?
Suddenly it hit me. I’d seen a three-year-old child act like this on the train once, thrown into a panic every time the whistle blew.
“It’s not really so bad.”
She lowered her arms and looked at me.
“I can’t say there’s nothing to be afraid of. Because trains can be scary, sure. I might be scared myself if I wasn’t so used to them, having to work on one and all. But if I’d never seen one, or if I dwelt too much in my head on things like that wreck – ”
She lowered her eyes, but I knew she was still listening.
“I’m just saying they can be scary. Sure. Especially . . .”
I stopped to take a breath. Could I really talk to her like this? What if I was making a huge mistake?
“Um . . . especially if you’ve lost somebody you love.”
She closed her eyes.
“But they’re not so bad, really. Nothing but a hunk of metal, if you get down to brass tacks. And there’s accidents with this kind of hunk of metal just like any other.”
She started crying, sobbing like a child, and I couldn’t help myself. I took her in my arms, glad the train wasn’t full and Joe Pesh wasn’t in our car. The fewer eyes to see this, the better.
“It’s all right to cry,” I told her. “Whatever the matter is. Sometimes you just got to, that’s all.”
I’d seen her stuffy and snippy, smudged with garden dirt, buried in apples, and fiery bossy for the sake of the Kurchers’ need. But I’d never expected to see her broken like this. I felt like crying too. I’d imagined her strong inside, healed already and moved on from the raw pain of grief. But here she was, showing me almost more than I could bear. Weak like me. Hurting like me. Right now, somehow, unable to cope with the world.
“Leah. It’s okay. Don’t feel bad for letting it show, all right? You’re human. Like me. Kinda busted up inside over losing the one you love. But it’s gonna be all right.”
I expected her to pull away. I could not have been more surprised that she didn’t. She sunk in my arms, like a child finding a haven, and I wondered if Marigold knew this was going to happen.
“Peace,” I said softly. “Lord, give her peace.”
My eyes filled with tears, recognizing those words from Marigold’s lips. More than once she’d said them. “Lord, give him peace.” And it had helped, even the times when I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that it could.
Finally, Leah was still. The shaking gone, the sobs erased. I thought she’d sit up then, to distance herself from me and act like this had never happened. But she didn’t move. Neither did I, for a long time, until I just couldn’t help wondering if she was really all right. Leaning close then I realized that she’d drifted into sleep.
It was a wonder, a marvel I could have never expected. I prayed that Joe Pesh would stay away and no one else would say a word to disturb her. And I sat as still as I could, afraid to move a muscle lest I wake her. For some reason I wanted her to sleep as long as possible, to stay just this way for the whole trip if the Lord willed it so I could hold her in my arms and know she was at peace.
I didn’t expect to feel the way I felt. Like this moment had been specially arranged and I was blessed just to be with this beautiful and strong woman in her need. It made me wonder if there could ever be something between us, despite my coarse and foolish behavior. Hopefully Leah wouldn’t be angry when she woke. I closed my eyes, thankful that I’d done what Marigold had told me to do.
Lord, you work in strange ways. You really surprised me here. And I can’t ask for nothing special. Just that you help her. Whatever the problem is, whatever started all this, you know. Let your peace run down inside her and never go away . . .
34
Leah
I woke to the sound of a train whistle again, but it seemed to not roar quite so loudly nor so threateningly as before. At first I was surprised to find Josiah’s arms around me, and then I remembered that he’d grabbed me and held me in my panic and tears. And instead of being afraid, I’d welcomed his touch, his reassuring strength.
But it wouldn’t be right to linger when the tears were gone. I lifted my head, I moved my arm, and he jolted a little. He must have fallen asleep too.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and sat up, scooting just enough away that we were no longer touching.
“Don’t be,” he said. “We all gotta cry.”
We sat in silence, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between us. I glanced out the train window. “Where are we?”
“Almost to St. Louis already. Makes a quick trip when you sleep through half of it.”
“I – I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I understand. I have that problem sometimes.”
I stared out the window. Why in the world was I talking to him? Why especially was I longing to talk to him more? “I don’t think you really understand,” I began slowly. “Nightmares kept me from rest. A jumble of them this time, all about trains.”
I glanced at him. He was looking at me with a softness, almost sadness, in his eyes. “Do you have nightmares often?”
“Yes. Very often. And always about trains.”
“Since John died?”
“No. Way before then. Even before I was Eliza’s age. I don’t really remember not having them, except that it was better when I was with John. And so much worse since . . .”
He looked puzzled. “I can understand worse since. But do you know why all this started?”
I shook my head. Maybe there was no reason at all.
He let out a long sigh. “I’ve come to believe that whenever there’s deep pain, there’s a reason for it somewhere. Maybe the Lord will show you one of these days.”
“What if I don’t wish to know? Maybe that would just make things worse.”
But he disagreed. “There’s peace in knowing. I’ve seen panic before. Don’t seem to be nothing rational to it. But there’s a cause, there has to be. And when you get down to that, I’d betcha the panic’d go away.”
“When it happened when I was a child, my father would say I was just a whiny baby grabbing for attention.”
“Maybe he was hiding his head from the truth.”
I let the remark remain unanswered. He didn’t know my father or anything about this. I’d already told him too much. There was no point in any further words.
Before long, I saw the Mississippi River bridge and tensed, especially when the whistle blew again. To my surprise, Josiah took my arm, and that seemed to make it better. Soon we were arriving in the city, and I found myself reluctant for him to go.
“How soon is the train going back?” I asked a little nervously.
“I’ve got plenty of time. So if you’ll let me, I’m going to check when the train going south to Sugar Creek is leaving. I aim to see you safely on it. Do you think you’d be all right from there?”
I’d have to be. I couldn’t ask him to go with me any farther. It would make it impossible for him to board his connection back home. And it wouldn’t do for me to be showing up in my hometown with a strange man, anyhow. “Yes. I think I’ll be fine now.”
“Okay. Let me go see about your train.”
He escorted me to a seat in the station house and went to the counter to make sure they’d told him right in Andersonville when the next train would be headed south. It turned out I had a two-hour wait, which I didn’t relish in such close proximity to the tracks. But Josiah surprised me again by offering to buy me a meal at a restaurant just down the street.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Oh, come on. I need something to eat before I get on that train headin’ back. And I’d hate to leave a lady sitting here alone.”
“We’ve still got the bag of Marigold’s scones.”
“I thought since they made it this far, you oughta go on and take ’em to your father. Besides, I’ve got a taste for something hot right now. But like I said, I don’t wanna leave you alone.”
I watched his expression, wondering what he was thinking. “Then would you stay and wait here if I refused to go with you?”
“Yeah. I guess I would. And make Marigold feed me up extra when I get back.”
I took a deep breath. How should I react to this? His train would be arriving a few minutes after my own, but somehow I knew that he’d miss his train if he needed to, whatever the cost, to be here and make sure I got on mine safely. But Marigold didn’t require that of him. It was a choice he’d made for himself.
“I suppose we’d better walk to the restaurant then,” I told him lightly. “I wouldn’t want to put Marigold through all that work.”
He smiled. He took my arm again. It was a strange feeling. And though I didn’t feel nearly as shaky and weak as I had before, I let it be.
&
nbsp; 35
Leah
Josiah put me on the Sugar Creek train, even though it nearly made him late catching his own. I found it hard to reconcile in my mind what had happened.
Why had I let him get so close to me, or accepted Marigold’s notion that he come along at all? But how could I have managed if he hadn’t? I’d not had such a panic come over me since I was a child. I’d felt like I couldn’t even breathe, that the fear had a stranglehold over my body as well as my mind.
It wasn’t rational, just as he’d said. But whether there was any cause I might never know.
I didn’t come close to enjoying the final leg of my journey on the train, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be. The immensity of fear had seemed to melt away in Josiah’s arms. And it hadn’t returned.
Still I had my father to face. The little Sugar Creek station was even smaller than the one at Andersonville. Even in the daylight, there was no one around, and I had to walk a block and a half to the filling station to ask to use the phone. Father didn’t have a phone at the farm. But a neighbor did, and I’d already told him what day I would arrive. Rather than planning to wait at the station, Mr. Rafferty had said to call again when I got here, that he’d drive in and pick me up.
Maybe he’d thought I’d change my mind at the last minute. It really wasn’t far from the truth. I stood outside of Buck and Bill’s Gas and Service after the phone call, watching for Mr. Rafferty’s truck on the road running east out of town. I didn’t know if he’d told my father I was coming. I hadn’t told him to, nor told him not to. Either way, I couldn’t picture how Father would react to me finally showing up at home again.
Eldon Rafferty drove slow like he wasn’t used to maneuvering on the road in a motor vehicle. And maybe he wasn’t. The last I remembered he still drove a horse and wagon.
