by Natalie Dean
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that.” She giggled, and the sound brought him a surprising amount of joy. “I just needed to escape from inside. To be…here. Among the stars.” She gripped the railing and looked up and into the night.
That, he could understand. It was his turn to be sleeping, but while Boomer had no trouble snoring away in their compartment under the watchful eye of Tom, Simon could not find enough peace to truly rest.
“That sounds about right. Same for me.” Mostly. He cringed at the half truth. While he hadn’t known this place existed, he had seen Greta slip from her compartment and had followed her. Part of him said that it was to make sure she was safe on the train alone at night, and the other part of him admitted the truth was that she fascinated him.
Yet, here and now, he did feel the peace he’d longed for. The elusive peace that sent him following a pretty woman. He could console himself with the reality that he was technically off duty, but if he gained no rest, it could be said that he was shirking his responsibilities.
“You are very far away in your thoughts,” she observed, bringing him back to the present. To this moment with her.
“That I am,” he said, trying to hide his smile but failing miserably.
“Would you care to share them? I find that, sometimes, confiding in someone else—whether it’s worry or happiness—can be helpful.”
He certainly couldn’t share the full weight of his thoughts with her, neither about Boomer nor about how beautiful or lovely he found her.
“Perhaps that was forward of me to suggest,” she quickly added, likely noting his conflicting expression.
“It’s not that, trust me. I’d like to share my thoughts with you, Greta,” he said just because he liked saying her name, “but some of them would unnecessarily burden you.” Like the fact that he couldn’t wait to get Boomer off this train full of civilians and into a sturdy jail cell.
“I understand.”
But she couldn’t, there was no way she could without him offering something to her. “I will say, however,” he continued, happy to see her upturned face with an expression of hope on it, “that you have made me think of my grandmother.”
She laughed, quickly trying to cover her humor with her hand.
“Perhaps that didn’t come out quite right,” he said, fumbling with his words. “I just mean that you’re a lot like her.”
“I remind you of your grandmother?”
There was that teasing humor again, and he instantly realized his folly. He’d just compared her to his grandmother!
“No, no, not like that. I mean…she was German, and you are and…” he fumbled for more words that he couldn’t seem to make fit in the right places.
“It’s all right, Simon,” she said, lightly resting her hand on his forearm before yanking it back as if realizing how intimate and familiar the gesture was. “I understand.”
“You have the same sense of humor she did. And of course the accent,” he said, still trying to dig his way out of the hole of words he’d thrown himself into.
“Please, do not fret. I am not offended.”
“That’s good. That’s the last thing I would want to do. Honest.”
They stood there for another moment, and he felt himself falling—not physically though mentally, and perhaps even emotionally, for the woman in front of him. She made him nervous and uncomfortable, and yet bold and excited in ways he’d never before experienced. He kept thinking back to other women he’d interacted with, and it had never been like this. They had never enticed him in the way she did.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.
She looked through the window next to them, the hallway still deserted. “Perhaps I should be going. It is late.”
He felt the smack of disappointment.
“Then again,” she said, shrugging, “my traveling companions are loudly sound asleep.”
He laughed. “I know what that is like as well.”
“I suppose I could tell you that I once dreamed of becoming a baker,” she admitted. His look of surprise must have shown—for she rushed to explain. “I know. It’s a foolish dream for a woman, and especially one who was not born into a family of bakers, but I’ve always loved bread and—”
“Stop,” he said. This time it was his turn to reach out and touch her lightly on the upper arm. The warmth of her skin beneath her cotton dress made him very aware of just how close they were standing. “I don’t want you to think I thought that was foolish. I’m not sure what my face said.” He wrinkled up his nose. “It often says things I don’t mean.”
She laughed, which was his intended purpose, and allowed him to explain.
“I think that is the most wonderful dream. I love baked goods. You should follow your dream—and perhaps share a roll with me? Or a strudel?”
This time her laugh lit up the warm night around them with the sound of tinkling bells. She shook her head, and he wondered if she thought him bold and too forthright in assuming that he would be around to taste her creations.
“It would be wonderful,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s something I haven’t thought of in years. At least not until this moment.”
Her gaze held his and felt the connection there. The desire welling up from inside of him that made him want to reach out and pull her against him. To feel her so close that he forgot where one of them began and the other ended. To press his lips to hers and—
“I really must be going.” She slid the door open and the rushing wind filled the hall. “It was nice talking with you, Simon.”
He blinked, as she disappeared down the hall.
She’d felt it too. The thing that raced back and forth between them. A type of current or…something that connected them. If she’d felt even the tiniest bit of the emotions he had, it explained her abrupt exit.
What would come of those feelings? He was transporting a criminal to a town he didn’t live in, and she clearly was going somewhere with someone for some purpose. So many unknown details, and here he was, wishing he could spend a few more minutes in her presence.
He needed to pull his mind from the clouds and face the reality that they would part ways and never see each other again. That was the way of things, and that was how it had to be.
No amount of wishing would change that reality.
Chapter 6
Greta felt Simon’s gaze on her as she almost ran down the hall toward her compartment. She prayed he wouldn’t follow her because she was afraid of what she might give in to if he caught up with her.
She felt flushed and out of breath when she reached the compartment. After she slipped inside without disturbing Daniel and his mother, she sank into her seat and rested her head back against the cushion.
What had happened on the platform?
There had been something almost tangible between them. Something Greta had never experienced before, and something she was a little afraid of. Simon was unlike any man she’d ever met. He was handsome, funny, kind, and—best of all—obviously interested in getting to know her.
While it was nearly impossible to compare the two men, she couldn’t help but see obvious differences. Daniel wanted to use her. To have her around as his wife rather than to enter into a marriage with her. Daniel made jokes at her expense. He lorded his control over her. He—
She felt her blood pressure rise at the thoughts. Instead, she turned her mind to the handsome Simon Brown. He cared about her feelings. He asked her what she was thinking about. He listened to her and didn’t make fun of her accent. His grandmother was even German.
It was clear that she wasn’t alone in feeling their connection, but she’d also been the first to break it, and she had to be. Simon had no idea who Daniel was or the fact that she had agreed to marry him.
If only she could revoke that previous promise. Was it binding?
Daniel shifted in his sleep and began to snore even louder. Charming, she thought with dar
k cynicism.
Then she thought of her parents. They had married at a young age when her father inherited his farm after his parents died in a wagon accident. They had been young, but they’d been in love. She was certain that fact—in and of itself—had helped them subsist in the hard days that had followed their vows.
They had faced trial after trial, but had come out loving one another deeper than before. It’s what she’d always prayed for in a marriage. Something that could look like that of her parents’. But didn’t that require mutual respect of some degree? There was absolutely no way that Daniel respected her in any way, let alone saw her as an equal. She was merely a means to an end.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and fell asleep praying, wishing that the pain in her heart would ease but knowing that, if she were to marry Daniel, it would only increase.
* * *
The next morning Daniel woke Cynthia and Greta with a not-so-gentle shove and told them to hurry so that he could get to breakfast early. He claimed he was starving, but Greta wasn’t sure how that were possible since he’d eaten almost three portions the night before.
He rushed them down the hallway toward the dining car, and Greta found herself wishing that she’d seen Simon. Even from a distance it would help to take her mind off of her current situation if she could see his broad smile and dark, curly hair.
There was no sign of him when they entered and were shown to a table. She took a seat facing the door and tried to prepare herself for Daniel’s tradition of making her speak only to correct her pronunciations. It had become an entertaining pastime for him, one she deeply loathed, but she couldn’t seem to reason with him to get him to stop.
“Ah, let me find another word for you,” Daniel said, glee sparkling in his eyes.
How he could take such pleasure in making her feel embarrassed, she couldn’t be sure.
“Please, not now. I…I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“Oh come on, dearie,” he said, as he pushed her arm too hard for it to be playful. “It’s fun for me. That’s what matters.”
“Yes, do another,” Cynthia said.
Of course she would join his side, Greta thought.
“Here, try elephant.”
She paused, hearing him say the word and yet realizing she’d never heard her friend say it before. It was similar in German, she supposed, and instead, she simply tried to copy what he’d said.
“Elea-fant.” She looked up, biting her lip.
He burst into raucous laugher so loud that everyone in the car seemed to be looking their way.
“It’s really not that funny,” she whispered under her breath.
“What was that?” Daniel said, his attention snapping to her. “Speak up. I couldn’t hear you.” His eyes narrowed.
“I said,” she drew in a deep, fortifying breath, “it’s not that funny.”
“But I think it is. Don’t you think so, Mother?”
“Yes dear,” Cynthia said obediently. “Very funny.”
Greta opened her mouth to reply, but then Simon stepped into the dining car, and all her coherent thoughts vanished.
“Do you want to argue with me? You do, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
She was taken aback by the intensity in Daniel’s eyes. They drilled into her, and she leaned back. “I--I don’t…”
She wasn’t sure what to say.
“Exactly. You don’t know. You are here because of me. You’re in America because I paid for your trip here. Don’t forget that.” He was leaning across the table, staring at her with wild eyes, and she felt the small amount of breakfast she’d already eaten start to rise back up. She was going to be sick!
“Hey, back off.” The stern voice came from above them, and both Greta and Daniel turned to look up at Simon.
Daniel sputtered for a reply to Simon’s authoritative tone. “And j-just who are you?”
“I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Simon Brown, and when I see a man such as yourself, talking so harshly to a young woman as you were, I can’t help but step in.”
The words shocked Greta. He was a marshal? She’d heard stories of them in the West but had never expected to meet one. Now, looking up at him, standing tall with his shoulders back and the confidence of an authority figure, she could completely see him as a marshal.
“I--I’m sorry, Marshal, but this woman is my wife and…”
Greta flushed so deeply she was sure she’d turned the same color as the carpet in their compartment. They were not married yet, and she was shocked that Daniel would even say that. His mother didn’t correct him, of course, and by the time she was aware of the conversation again, Simon nodded once, sent her an enigmatic look, and then left.
“You--you just said,” she swallowed trying to form her words. “You lied to him.”
“What? You’re almost my wife—for all intents and purposes you are. You are also under my care, and I will not have some other man stepping in to correct me in my business.”
She shot up from the table. One glance at the front of the car let her know that Simon had already left. With one last hesitant look at Daniel, she rushed from the car. Not only was she mortified, she wanted to be as far from her intended as possible.
* * *
Simon felt shame pierce him like a hot poker. How had he not known she was marred? Not even that, why hadn’t he asked her? Because he’d assumed she would tell him of something like that.
He pounded down the hallways back toward his compartment, where Tom waited with Boomer. He had to get back; he’d only gone to the dining car for extra coffee—something he’d also forgotten in his rush to get out of there. He couldn’t go back now though.
He felt like a complete idiot. How could she—?
He halted, mostly due to the passengers bottlenecked in front of him, but also because of his own thoughts. Had Greta simply seen their encounters as just that? Chance meetings that were nothing more than harmless conversation between two people?
Or, worse yet, had she so abruptly left the other night because she felt guilty? That she had felt something as he had, but needed to get away because she was married? If she’d only said something.
He groaned, and the woman in front of him turned around to give him a piercing stare. He didn’t care though. Let people look at him, he was a blind fool. He’d allowed his fascination with the beautiful woman to lead him down a path that could have been very dangerous for them both.
The clog of people cleared, and he made his way down the last hallway to their compartment. He paused outside the door, taking in deep breaths. The compartment across the way was empty. He knew that much since there was no alternative route to get back to it from the dining car.
What would happen now? If he saw her again? They could accidentally cross paths in the hallway and then what? What would he say? What could he say? He never should have allowed his thoughts to become distracted as they had by her. He was on a mission, and he’d allowed a distraction like Greta to get past his defenses. It was shameful on many levels, but he knew better now. It wouldn’t happen again.
“’Bout time you got back,” Boomer said. His gruff tone grated on Simon’s nerves. “Hey, where’s my coffee?”
“I forgot it.” Simon flung himself into his chair under the penetrating stare of Tom. His look asked, What is going on? But he had the decency not to say it out loud.
“I’ll go back…in a bit.”
“Who’s there you don’t want to run into?” Boomer said. His gaze sharpened. “That girl you were ogling yesterday?”
Simon took a deep breath in through his nose to keep himself calm as much as to keep himself from throwing a punch at the criminal. “I wasn’t—nor have I ever—ogled anyone. And it’s none of your business.”
Boomer chuckled, the sound like shaken rocks in a tin can. He knew. Simon wasn’t sure how, or how much, but Boomer knew about Greta, and that fact alone made Simon’s blood run cold.
Chapter 7
It was la
te, much too late for Greta’s liking, but she couldn’t sleep. All she could see when she closed her eyes was the look of shock on Simon’s face when Daniel said she was his wife. A boldfaced lie, and yet she hadn’t had the sense to contradict him.
She’d gone over and over the situation in her mind’s eye, thinking of things she could have done or words she could have said, but it came down to the fact that she hadn’t had the boldness she needed at the right time.
Daniel shifted in his sleep in the seat across from her and his snoring increased. Always snoring! It was a miracle he could continue to sleep with the sound and that Cynthia could sleep as well. Then again, she was almost as loud as he was. Weren’t they a pair?
Quietly, making sure not to wake them, she slipped into the hallway. It was becoming a bit of a ritual for her, and she found that she didn’t mind losing sleep to do it, not that she could sleep anyways. There was plenty of time during the day to catch a few minutes of rest in the observation car or in their private compartment when Daniel was playing cards with the other men.
Her footsteps hardly made any sound, as she headed directly to the back of the train and ‘their spot’ as she’d started to think of it. She wondered if he would be there; she hoped he would be there. Was it too much to ask that Simon would have the same idea as she? That he’d want to talk with her, or perhaps that he couldn’t sleep either and had sought out solace with the night sky and rushing wind?
She slid the door open and stepped out, bracing herself against one of the support poles and looking up. The night sky was as beautiful as ever. A constant in her life when everything else was spiraling out of control. To look up and see the stars, only slightly different than the ones she’d seen in Germany, reminded her that no matter where she was, the nighttime would always come and the stars would always be there.
The warm air circulated around her, and she felt comforted in a way only nature could do. It was the vastness of the natural world around her that reminded her most of Father God, and she wanted to be close to him in this moment. To lean into Him with his infinite wisdom for this situation as well as so many others in her life.
