Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters)

by Lena Dooley Nelson

  When he released her, he pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the streaks from her face. “I hope you find what you need while you’re with Agatha. I think she’ll be good for you.”

  A sob escaped from Maggie’s throat, and Daddy pressed the large cotton square into her hands. “You need this more than I do.”

  She dabbed her eyes, trying to erase the evidence of her weeping. She looked toward the railroad car. Charles stood at the bottom step near the conductor.

  Daddy walked with her to where the conductor stood and handed the man the tickets.

  Charles offered his hand to help Georgia onto the train. When she stood on the small platform outside the door of the car, he reached toward Maggie. She slipped her hand into his and allowed him to lift her aboard. Soon all three were clustered on the small platform with their punched tickets in their hands.

  “Aaalll aboooard!” The conductor’s voice rang out before he swung himself up onto the platform too.

  More screeching of metal and hissing of steam accompanied the slow, jerky movement as the magnificent machine chugged forward. Maggie clung to the railing trying to maintain her balance. The train moved faster and faster, accompanied by the incessant clacking as the engine pulled them away from the station, away from her family, and away from her home.

  The conductor opened the door and ushered them inside. Maggie walked down the length of the car, keeping pace with her parents as they walked alongside the train as far as they could on the platform. All three waved the whole time. When Maggie could no longer see her parents, she dropped her hand. Why had she insisted on leaving them? Already she missed their comforting presence.

  “We can sit here.” Charles stood beside her, indicating two bench seats upholstered in worn red velvet and facing each other.

  Georgia moved out of the aisle, then turned back. “Do you want to sit by the window, Maggie, or would you prefer the aisle seat?”

  Maggie didn’t remember the trip from Oregon City; all she had seen was Seattle and that one trip to Portland. Now they were going halfway across the vast continent. She didn’t want to miss a single thing on the journey.

  “I’d like to sit by the window.” Maggie eased onto the bench with the thin padding. This would probably become uncomfortable before long.

  Charles sat across from her. “This is a sleeping car. For the night, this area will be changed into upper and lower sleeping berths.”

  He must have known what she was thinking. Then his words sunk in. She glanced around the car. Although it wasn’t full, by any means, there were several people sharing the space. A family with two young children. A scruffy old man and two other men who appeared to be traveling salesmen. Another couple huddled close together, ignoring everyone else. Quite a motley crew.

  “We’re supposed to sleep with these strangers?” Maggie hoped none of them heard her.

  Georgia laughed. “These berths have privacy curtains. You and I can probably share a berth, and Charles can take the other one.”

  That’s a relief. “But where will we change clothes?”

  Georgia leaned close and whispered. “There are necessary rooms at the ends of the cars. You can go there to change, or we can just don our bedclothes inside the berth. On previous trips I’ve done it both ways.”

  As the train traveled inland, Maggie enjoyed seeing the various landscapes that slid past the windows. Lush grasslands, high mountain peaks, streams, forests, wildlife. Soon the car became stuffy as the sun rose higher in the sky.

  “Can we open these windows?” Maggie fanned herself with her hand.

  “I’ll do it if you’re sure you want me to.” Charles stood and reached for the latch. “The only thing is, when the windows are open, soot often comes into the car. See the film it’s forming on the outside of the glass?”

  Georgia fingered her buttons. “Maybe we could just remove our jackets. We’d be more comfortable that way.”

  Maggie was willing to try anything to get some relief. She slipped her arms out of her fitted spencer. The space felt cooler with just her long-sleeve dimity blouse tucked into her suit skirt.

  Georgia pulled the picnic basket from under their seat. “Is anyone besides me hungry?”

  Charles dropped back onto his bench. “I could do with some food about now. What do we have?”

  “Knowing Mrs. Jorgensen, probably enough to feed an army.” Maggie lifted the hinged lid and enticing aromas of roast beef and something spicy permeated the air around them.

  She looked up and noticed that the people sitting near them glanced longingly toward the food. She lowered her voice. “We can’t eat in front of these people. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”

  Georgia made a quick scan of the car. “There are less than a dozen people, counting us. Maybe some of them have been on the train for quite a while. Do you think we have enough to share?”

  Maggie nodded. “But what will we do for food after it’s all gone?”

  Charles raked his long fingers through his hair. “The train will have to stop to take on fuel and water. Usually we can buy food where it stops. Besides, some of this will spoil before we can eat all of it.”

  “Then let’s divide what we have.” Maggie lifted the tea towel covering the food.

  A large mound of sandwiches lay beneath, along with apples and cookies. Plenty to share with everyone, even the conductor if he came through their car. She put the tea towel on the seat beside Georgia and unloaded enough food for the three of them.

  “Charles, will you help me distribute this?”

  He grinned at her. “At your service, ma’am.” He gave a low bow from the waist.

  “Don’t go getting all highfalutin on me.” Maggie moved into the aisle and walked to the end of the car.

  Charles followed her, carrying the basket. As they moved back down the aisle, she asked each passenger if he or she would like something to eat. All but one of them accepted the food. Each time she handed a sandwich, an apple, and a cookie to someone, her heart expanded a tiny bit more.

  Some of the people appeared to have been traveling a long time. A few wore clothing that was ragged and worn. Maggie treated each person with the same deference, and they thanked her profusely.

  Florence had been active in helping the poor in Seattle, but she never let Maggie go with her. This was a completely new experience, one Maggie would never forget. For the first time, she shared what she had and accepted the blessings spoken to her in return.

  After they finished their meal, Georgia packed away the remaining food and tucked the tea towel around it.

  During the afternoon, Maggie got tired and fell asleep with her head leaning against the window. When she awoke from her nap, her neck had a crick in it, and Georgia gently snored with her chin resting on her chest. She would probably also have a sore neck when she woke up.

  Maggie tried to rub the pain out of her neck and shoulder, but it didn’t work. Charles leaned toward her and told her to shift over to sit beside him, so they wouldn’t awaken Georgia. He had her turn with her back to him, and he rubbed until her pain left her. No one had ever done anything like that for her. She turned around to thank him and found his face very close to hers.

  He stared into her eyes, and she couldn’t look away. Some unseen force connected them in a way she didn’t understand. Her stomach tightened and her heart fluttered, but still she couldn’t break the visual contact. Finally, he blew out a deep breath and turned his attention out the window. She sat with her hands clasped until Georgia gave a soft snort that woke her up.

  Maggie moved back beside her, and they started a conversation.

  After several minutes, Georgia lifted her gaze toward Maggie’s curls. “You know, a funny thing happened before I left Portland.”

  “Really? What?” Maggie clasped her hands around her crossed knee.

  “I thought I saw you.” Georgia gave a short laugh. “I even followed the man and young woman until they went inside a sto
re. Her hair looked just like yours. Same color, same curls. She wore it pulled back with a ribbon like you used to when you were younger. But she looked to be the same age as you. She walked the same way you do. I thought maybe you and Flo had come to Portland to surprise me.”

  This was really interesting. Even Charles had turned from the window to listen.

  “So how did you find out it wasn’t me?”

  Georgia stared down the aisle toward where the conductor had entered the car. “She stopped to feel a silk scarf on the counter. Her skin looked a lot like yours only with a bit of a tan, like she had been out in the sun a lot. And her nose was covered with freckles.”

  Maggie giggled. “Mine would be too if I didn’t protect it.”

  “I’ve heard that sometimes people meet someone who has an uncanny resemblance to themselves.” Charles stared at Maggie. “Maybe this person is your double. Perhaps we could find her if we went to Portland.”

  “She might have come from anywhere. Right, Aunt Georgia?” Maggie would like to meet the woman, but that wasn’t very likely. My double? That would really be something, wouldn’t it?

  Chapter 9

  By the time the beautiful sunset spread across the sky behind the train and faded into twilight, Maggie was thoroughly exhausted. The thin padding of the train seat had all but disappeared, and her backside felt as if she were riding on a slab of rock. She stood and stretched to get the kinks out of her shoulders, then donned the spencer once again. Since the sun took the warmth with it, the railway car was now getting rather cool.

  “We still have a little food left in the basket.” Georgia pulled it from under the seat. “Perhaps we should finish eating all of it before anything spoils.”

  Maggie dropped back onto the bench, then wished she had one of the thick pillows from her bed back home to sit on. But more than that, she wished she had some inkling of what they’d find in Arkansas and if she could learn anything about her past from her grandmother. Was she on a futile journey? She hoped not.

  Georgia parceled out the remaining three sandwiches. Maggie sank her teeth into the roast beef between thick slices of buttered, hearty wheat bread. Charles reached into the basket for the three Mason jars half-full of water and handed one to each of the women before screwing the lid off his. The liquid was lukewarm from sitting on the hot train all day, but Maggie’s throat welcomed the fluid as an accompaniment to her sandwich.

  “This stuff tastes good, doesn’t it?” Georgia slowly chewed her first bite. “I’m going to savor it while I can. We probably won’t get good cooking like Mrs. Jorgensen’s every place we stop.”

  Soon Maggie had eaten all her sandwich. She picked up one of the last three apples. “I’m going to eat this and save the cookie for breakfast in case we don’t have anything else. Since they’re oatmeal raisin, it will almost be like eating the cooked cereal.”

  “It’ll probably taste better.” The face Charles made indicated to Maggie that he might not like hot oatmeal.

  Charles finished off his apple and held out his hand for Georgia’s and Maggie’s cores. He headed to the end of the car and went out on the little platform. When he came back in, the cores were gone. How easy it was to toss things away. Had her mother tossed her away like an unwanted apple core? The thought hurt more than she’d anticipated. She didn’t want to be just someone’s unwanted garbage.

  The conductor worked his way down the car, lighting the small lamps attached to the walls. Even though the light gave only a feeble yellow glow, Maggie welcomed the respite from total darkness. When the man finished that job, he started at one end of the railcar and folded out the berths where people were sitting. Several rows were empty, even the benches across the aisle from where Maggie, Georgia, and Charles sat.

  “You want to use one of the berths on this side too?” The conductor reached toward the latch holding the wooden contraption in place. “That way you won’t be so crowded.”

  They all agreed that would be best. One of Maggie’s worries taken care of. She’d been dreading sharing a berth with Georgia. She loved her aunt dearly, but Maggie was used to sleeping by herself. She had already decided she might not get much sleep on the train because of sharing such a narrow bed. Now the problem had disappeared. She wished her other problems would disappear just as easily.

  Georgia lifted her carpetbag up on the bench across from where they sat. “I’m going to just dress for bed while inside the berth.”

  “Me too.” Maggie didn’t even want to pull her nightdress out of her bag with all the prying eyes around them. She’d just wait until she was inside her sleeping area.

  Charles had been walking from one end of the car to the other, stretching his legs. After several passes by them, he stopped. “You two should take the bottom berths. It’ll be easier for me to climb into the upper one.”

  Georgia smiled up at him. “You’re just full of good suggestions, Charles. Thanks for helping us so much.”

  “Just paying for my keep.” He gave one if his signature bows, and the two women shared a laugh. “Always glad to help a pretty lady.”

  His gaze drifted toward Georgia when he said that. Was the silly man flirting with her aunt? Surely not.

  “Oh, go on with you.” Georgia waved him away. “At least you’re keeping our journey from becoming too boring.”

  Maggie wasn’t so sure she agreed with her aunt. The trip had lost its luster before the middle of the afternoon, and there were so many more days to go. But she did agree that Charles kept everything lively for them.

  “Do you know why we are going south before we can head east?” Charles rested one ankle on his other knee and leaned back.

  “Not really.” She wondered where he was going with this conversation.

  “Because the tracks lead us there.” He laughed.

  “That is so obvious.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you were going to tell us something important.” She glanced at Georgia who covered her smile with her fingertips.

  “I’m sure that someday, trains will crisscross this country in many directions.” Charles lowered his eyelids as if he were thinking hard. “But right now, there are only a few places where the rails have been laid across the mountains. And that’s where we have to go. The rails will lead us into Denver. Isn’t that right, Georgia?”

  Maggie noticed that his voice softened somehow when he said her aunt’s name. What is wrong with Charles? Didn’t he realize that Georgia was much too old for him? He needed to set his sights on someone closer to his own age. Like me.

  But Charles wouldn’t ever look at her as anything but the younger sister he never had. He hadn’t even noticed she’d grown up.

  “Yes, we always spent a night in a hotel in Denver on the trips back home.”

  “And who traveled with you, pretty lady?” Charles dropped his foot back to the floor and leaned both forearms on his thighs.

  Pink seeped into Georgia’s cheeks. “My husband.”

  Maggie had never seen such a look of consternation on Charles’s face in all the time she had known him.

  “I . . . I didn’t know you were married.” He had never stuttered before either.

  Georgia gazed at him for a moment before answering. “I’m not. I’m a widow.”

  He gulped, then smiled. “A very lovely widow at that.”

  Maggie wondered if she was going to have to put up with his flirting on the whole trip. What had come over her level-headed friend? Some chaperone he would be.

  He stared out the window as the train chugged across a tall bridge over a stream below. “I read something interesting the other day.”

  “And what was that?” She would welcome anything to take his mind off of flirting shamelessly with her aunt.

  “You know how all the rivers run toward the West Coast.” He pointed to the water flowing under them. “It’s not like that all over the United States. The Rocky Mountain Range has an area called the Continental Divide. All the rivers on the other side of that ridge run
toward the east, while all those on this side run toward the west.”

  “Did you know that, Aunt Georgia?” Maggie glanced at her aunt, who had been sitting silently for a while.

  “Actually, I did, but I had forgotten about it.”

  Maggie stared out the window. She hadn’t forgotten how she felt when Charles had helped rid her of the crick in her neck. When his fingers first touched her shoulders, tingles traveled up and down her spine. She welcomed the warmth of his hands and felt bereft when he removed them. Because he was such a gentleman, he didn’t let them linger overlong.

  She shook herself. She shouldn’t read anything more into his touch. Since he didn’t treat her any differently than he had before, she must be the only one who experienced something extra from the encounter. Clearly, she wasn’t the object of his interest. And she didn’t care. She really didn’t. At least, not much.

  After bidding her companions goodnight, Maggie set her carpetbag at the end of her berth away from the lumpy pillow, then sat on the bed, pulling her feet up and closing the curtains. The mattress was thicker than the padding on the seats, but not a lot. She tugged off her shoes and set them beside the bag. She gathered her nightdress, robe, and slippers from the luggage. As she had imagined, undressing and putting on her nightclothes wasn’t easy in the confined space. Dressing in a berth at the same time as her aunt would have been virtually impossible.

  After bumping her head more than once and bouncing around a little when the train went around a curve, Maggie finally had her clothes changed. She slid under the covers—a rough sheet and a scratchy blanket—far different from the luxurious covers on her bed at home. Deciding to make the best of it, she wadded the thin pillow under her head and tried to relax. During the daytime, she’d become accustomed to the unusual noises and movement of the train, but in her completely dark, solitary space, everything seemed magnified. She shifted around, trying to get comfortable, then clenched her eyes closed as tight as she could.