Twice Upon a Train

by K A Moll

  “You’ll hate my place,” Willow responded.

  “No,” Keegan corrected. “I’ll love it because it’s yours.”

  “And you don’t like indoor pets. You’ll hate Ripple.”

  “I don’t dislike them; I’ve simply never had one. Ripple and I will be fine.”

  “And you’ll hate not having a safe place to park your car.”

  “It has an alarm. Trust me; we’re all good.” Keegan’s eyes widened, making a face. “Stop worrying. You worry too much.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Willow responded, a soft chuckle escaping as the moment unexpectedly became lighter. “I worry too much? Good God, you have the worrying market cornered. The closer we get to home, the more tormented you seem when you close your eyes.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry. I mention it because it worries me, that’s all. The meager amount of sleep you get can’t be good for your health.”

  “It’s not. But I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing helps.”

  “Being away helped.”

  “For a while.”

  “Counseling might help.”

  “I know, but—”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Nicole asked, resting her head against the passenger car window, mesmerized by the New York City skyline.

  “What? The silhouette of Manhattan?” Willow responded, her mouth slack. “God, no.”

  “I know you hate the city. But that aside, you don’t think it’s beautiful from this distance?”

  “No, not at all,” Willow answered. “Distance doesn’t change what it is— crowded, noisy, dirty, smelly, and crime-ridden. Oh, and getting around takes forever, and my cat can’t go outside. As a city, it has no redeeming qualities.”

  “I don’t understand how you could live here your whole life and hate it that much.”

  “And, I don’t understand how you could live here your whole life and love it.”

  Nicole peered over her glasses at Keegan. “And, how about you, Dr. Wade, are you a hater or a lover of our fine city?”

  “I neither hate it nor love it,” Keegan responded, taking the question more seriously than it was intended. “It’s where I live and work. But that said, I can’t imagine living here for a lifetime.”

  “Oh, come on,” Nicole persisted, “you’re a doctor with money to spend, you have to love something about New York City—the Broadway shows, the incredible dining, the best clothing stores in the world—something.”

  “I love Willow,” Keegan responded with a tender smile, “and I love her New York accent. I love the way she speaks fast, drops a consonant now and then.”

  The conductor announced their arrival at Penn Station.

  The chuffing, so familiar, fell silent.

  The passengers moved about the car with their luggage in tow.

  Humphrey extended his hand. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

  “For me too,” Keegan responded, shaking it with warm eye contact. “If you’re ever at the hospital, look me up, we’ll have coffee.”

  Humphrey beamed. “I’ll do just that. Thank you for the invitation.” He glanced at Hilda, then back at Keegan. “She has lots of appointments coming up, so I’m sure I’ll have some downtime.” Before he stepped off, he reached out, sandwiching Willow’s hand between his. “Thanks for the talk, young lady. You helped more than you’ll ever know.”

  “I’m glad,” Willow responded with a genuine smile. “You take care of yourself.”

  “I certainly will,” he answered, his eyes twinkling when they met Hilda’s. “Got me a new lease on life.”

  Hilda beamed with pleasure, catching Keegan’s eye as she stepped onto the platform. “Now, I’m not looking for a trauma, you understand, but if I ever have one, I’m gonna look you up. You’re a fine doctor. And I would imagine a fine surgeon. Not just anyone would’ve figured out my problem was those darned fiber supplements as fast as you did.”

  “Glad I could help,” Keegan responded. “You take care, Mrs. Pilister.” She collected their luggage, leading the way through Penn Station, frequently stopping for Nicole to rest. “Good, there’s a bench,” she said, setting the luggage on its wheels outside the recently renovated main entrance. “You sit tight, and we’ll get the cars.”

  Nicole lifted an eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”

  Keegan cocked her head, puzzled by her response. “You’re parked on west 34th, right? So, that’s close to where I parked. I’ll just walk Willow to your car, walk down to mine, and then follow her back to pick you up.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Willow asked, emerging from the building with an iced tea in hand.

  “I was just telling Nikki that I’d walk you to her car, get mine, and follow you back to pick her up.”

  “And the first of what will probably be many things that I failed to mention has been discovered. I don’t drive, Keegs.”

  Keegan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t drive?”

  Willow shook her head. “I don’t drive.”

  “You don’t drive because you don’t care to drive? Or you don’t drive because you don’t have a driver’s license?”

  “Both, actually,” Willow responded.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Nicole interjected. “I’ll take a cab to get it. You and Willow can go on to her place. Problem solved.”

  “No driving for at least thirty days,” Keegan responded with firm eye contact.

  “Well, shit,” Nicole snarled quietly.

  “We talked about this,” Keegan responded. “You have to give your body time to heal. Steering, shifting gears, even pressing the accelerator are activities that could potentially disrupt that process. And God forbid, you’d have to hit the brakes quickly to avoid an accident. That could pop your sutures.”

  Nicole sighed. “I may as well be in treatment.”

  “I guess so,” Keegan answered, smiling gently. “Okay, so here’s the new plan,” she continued, her voice lifting. “I’ll drive you home in your car, take a taxi back to get mine, then pick you up on my way to the hospital in the morning.”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into signing into that program.”

  “Trust me; it’s just what you need; you’ll be fine.”

  *

  Located in midtown Manhattan, the area around Penn Station was safe enough during the day, but the evening and night hours were a different story. “Look at all the homeless people,” Willow commented, noticing a large gathering. “It’s sad that so many have to call the streets home.”

  “It is sad,” Keegan responded, nodding toward the building on the corner. “I’m pretty sure that church serves at least one balanced meal to them every day.”

  “Good for them,” Willow said. “Unfortunately, that’s a drop in the bucket. As a society, we need to do so much more than we do. We need to fund more programs, open more shelters, provide better access to health care.”

  “Yes, we do,” Keegan agreed, thinking what a good social worker she’d be. When Willow reached for her hand, she slid it into her pocket. “Not here,” she said quietly. “There are places that we can be ourselves and places where being ourselves isn’t safe.”

  Willow shook her head, her upper lip curling. “I hate this city.”

  “It’s not just this city or cities in general; it’s small towns too.”

  “We held hands in Utah,” Willow pointed out.

  “Yes,” Keegan answered, “and it was in the morning before the businesses were open. The streets were deserted.”

  “I think it’s different there. It felt different.”

  “Maybe so, I don’t know. But what I do know is that in today's climate, it’s not wise to take chances.”

  Willow fell silent, watching her feet move down the sidewalk. When she spoke, her tone harbored outrage. “So, we just hide in our closet?”

  “No, of course not,” Ke
egan said quietly. “But we do need to be aware of our surroundings. And we need to make smart decisions in the interest of safety.” When ‘walk’ flashed, they crossed a busy intersection. “We have to face the fact that hate crimes are a reality. I’d like to think things are getting better, but they’re not. We need to be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” She navigated the gate, entering the secured west 34th parking lot. “So, which one is hers?”

  Willow nodded toward an orange Corvette convertible. “That one.”

  “Oooh, nice car,” Keegan responded, trailing her fingers along the body of what she knew to be the newest model of the Stingray. “I considered this one but ended up buying a Jaguar. It’s got all-wheel drive and handles better on wet pavement.” She opened the passenger door for Willow, walked around, and dropped in under the steering wheel. “Gotta love a seven-speed manual on the floor.” When she started the engine, she closed her eyes. “And would you listen to that V8 purr like a kitten.”

  Willow shook her head, smiling. “Purrs like a kitten. HaHaHa! Roars like a lion is more like it.”

  *

  Keegan rumbled down the ramp to the lowest level of Nicole’s building, parking in a space with her name on the wall. Distinctly modern, the building was located on a prominent corner in a neighborhood similar to her own.

  “Leave the luggage,” Nicole instructed, accepting her assistance in exiting the car. “I’ll send the doorman down for it. He can bring mine up and hold yours at the door.” As they stepped through the lobby, a taxi let Willow out in the circle drive. She joined them and they rode a shiny elevator to the eighty-seventh floor. Nicole’s condo had three-thousand square feet of living space with white carpet, black ceramic tile, and a panoramic view of Central Park and the Hudson.

  “Breathtaking view,” Keegan said, stepping closer to the floor to ceiling window.

  “A view that she paid royally for,” Willow commented, wishing she hadn’t spoken.

  Keegan reached for her hand, threading their fingers together, and walking over to touch the keys of the shiny baby grand piano. “Do you play?” she asked.

  Nicole shook her head. “I always thought I’d take lessons, but never got around to it.”

  “She bought it because her color scheme is black and white,” Willow said. “And I must admit, it does go well with the white carpet.”

  Nicole’s eyes narrowed, meeting hers.

  Keegan glanced at her watch. “Well, I suppose we should head on down.” Their taxi was to arrive in thirty minutes, and twenty had passed. “Pick you up at seven?”

  Nicole nodded. “Seven’s good.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Keegan opened the rear door for Willow, sliding in beside her. “West 34th, the valet lot just down from Penn Station.”

  “You got it,” the cabbie responded, whipping into traffic. He proceeded to share his entire family history, details about his misguided business venture in New Jersey, and too much information about his impulsive Las Vegas wedding. “Let’s see,” he said, meeting Keegan’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m pretty good at this.” He squinted. “I’d say you’re a doctor, a specialist of some kind.”

  Keegan shook her head. “I don’t know how you guys do that.”

  “After a while, it comes easy. I started driving in the seventies during the checker cab era,” the guy answered. “I rack up seventy-thousand miles each year, taking all kinds of people here and there.”

  Keegan nodded, turning her attention to Willow. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly. “Because at Nikki’s, you seemed like something was bothering you.”

  Willow smiled thinly, her gaze drifting out the window. “I’m okay.”

  The cabbie leaned to one side, glancing at her, and then at Keegan. “She your girlfriend?” he asked. When Keegan didn’t immediately answer, he kept talking. “She is, I can tell.” He went on to say that it didn’t bother him, that he was used to it, even had one in the family. When he pulled over, he rested his arm on the back of the seat. “That’ll be thirty-eight-sixty.”

  “Keep the change,” Keegan responded, handing him three twenties. Collecting their luggage, she led the way across the lot, presenting her parking ticket to a woman with ‘valet’ on her breast pocket.

  “It’s on deck nine,” she responded, “so it’ll be a few minutes.”

  “That’s fine,” Keegan said, again turning her attention to Willow. “And you’re sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m fine,” Willow responded, her lower lip quivering.

  Keegan touched the small of her back, her tone softening. “I don’t think so.” She looked up, seeing her car speed down the ramp.

  “And, here she is,” the valet announced, readjusting the driver’s seat before getting out. “You two have a good night.”

  Keegan folded a fifty, placing it in her palm. “You too,” she responded.

  “I was expecting a Jaguar,” Willow said, fastening her seatbelt.

  “It’s at home,” Keegan answered. “I thought this one might be less tempting to vandals.” The black BMW sedan was luxurious and yet not flashy.

  “I hope that holds true tonight,” Willow said, her voice fading to no more than a hushed whisper.

  “Is that it? Is that what’s wrong? That we’re staying at your place tonight?”

  Willow bit her lip, a tear trembling on her eyelid. “I just know you’re gonna hate it.”

  Keegan reached across, squeezing her hand. “Aww, sweetie, we’ve been through this a dozen times; I’m not going to hate it. I could never hate something that was yours.”

  “Nikki wouldn’t stay at my place, not even if you paid her to do it. Oh, I suppose she would if I was really sick or something, but she wouldn’t want to. And, if she did, she’d never park her fancy car on my street.”

  “You think we’re that much alike? You think that I’m going to be the same way as she is? That’s what’s worrying you?”

  “No,” Willow answered, her voice breaking. “I’m worried that because you’re so kind-hearted, you won’t be enough like her, that you’ll do what you hate. I’m worried that, hate it or not, you’ll stay with me. I’m worried that, risky or not, you’ll park your fancy car on my street. I’m worried that we won’t be able to straddle worlds that are so different. But most importantly, I’m worried that off of the train, we won’t make it.”

  “I’m not sure what to say,” Keegan responded, her voice becoming low and nostalgic, “other than to remind you of our history.” She took a soft breath, allowing it to escape. “We fell in love on a steam train, a steam train of all places. Could there be a more romantic setting for lovers to meet?”

  “Not in my book.”

  “And, almost twenty-six years later,” she continued, “on a steam train, our paths cross again, and we get a second shot at love. What’s the chance of that?”

  “I’d say next to none.”

  “Exactly,” Keegan responded. “And, after that many years, we managed to pick up where we left off. You’re single. I’m single. We even live in the same city.” She held her gaze tenderly. “So, the things that you’re worried about, they’re just not things that you need to worry about. Sure, we come from different worlds. But you need to remember that we’ve always come from different worlds. And twice, against the odds, fate has brought us together.”

  “Soul mates,” Willow said softly.

  “Yes, soul mates,” Keegan responded, turning the corner, and driving under streetlamps unable to penetrate the darkness. She circled the block, circled again, and parked in front of Willow’s building; a brick three-story with graffiti defacing its walls. “Okay, so before we go in, I need to hold you,” she cooed, gathering Willow into her arms, and kissing her. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you too.”

  A lamp switched off in a lower level apartment.

  A curtain parted.

  A trashcan rolled to the sidewalk, propelled by a gust of wind.
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  In the distance, a siren wailed.

  Keegan checked her surroundings before getting out and again before she collected their luggage from the trunk. Then, she locked the doors and set the alarm.

  “I need to pick up Ripple before we go up,” Willow said, climbing crumbly steps to the narrow front porch.

  “Of course, you do,” Keegan responded with a thin smile.

  “My building super kept him for me while I was gone. But she’s not really a cat person, and I hate to put her out any longer than I have to.” She pointed to the lower apartment, the one where the lamp had switched off, and the curtain had parted. “She lives in this one.” She knocked with a particular rhythm, pausing, and repeating it once. “Phyllis, it’s Willow.” She turned, speaking to Keegan. “After dark, she’ll only answer if you knock with this pattern.” She knocked again. “She’s in her seventies, got the wits scared out of her last year when a couple of hoodlums robbed her at gunpoint.”

  “I’ll bet she did,” Keegan said, sucking in a breath of second hand-smoky air.

  “We used to have a buzzer-intercom system. It stopped working last year.”

  “It needs to be repaired or replaced.”

  “That’s never gonna happen. Slumlords don’t spend a penny that they don’t have to spend.”

  The door opened a crack, then wider. “Expected you earlier,” the woman with unblinking brown eyes greeted. She leaned forward on her cane, surveying Keegan in good bigot fashion.

  “I’m sorry,” Willow said, explaining the situation with Nikki, and telling her that having to go back for the car, and taking her home had been the reason for her lateness.