Finding You in Time (Train Through Time Series)

by Bess McBride

  His dear love, Amanda. He closed his eyes and willed her to know that he was alive, that he had not left her yet again. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might be suffering, thinking him dead. Her screams as he fell from the boat haunted him.

  Nathan shivered again and pulled his knees even closer. He attempted to think of warm things—the touch of Amanda’s hands, her kiss, her words of love before they were parted. She loved him still, or perhaps again. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she loved him. They would marry...soon this time, no waiting. His heart thumped happily, and his body warmed with his thoughts. He drifted off to sleep.

  ****

  A bright ray of golden light pierced Nathan’s eyelids, and he awakened. He attempted to stretch, but every bone in his body ached, and he gave up the effort. He looked up at the rising sun—an orange confection that rose above the hills on the opposite side of the river.

  He sat up stiffly and looked around, noting that he had slept on the bank at a forty-five degree angle given the steep ascent from the river. The bank looked as difficult to traverse as he had thought the night before, and he hoped he could hail a passing boat before he attempted to clamber along the sandy shores to find his way back to Wenatchee.

  With no boats in sight however, Nathan, feeling an urgent need to return to Amanda, rose to his feet and attempted to stand upright. He slipped in the sand and threw himself down onto the bank again before he fell back toward the water. His heart pounded, and he looked down at the churning river. He had no intention of falling into that morass again.

  Further, he realized that he had no shoes. He had kicked them off in the river, barely thinking that he might need them at some point. He hadn’t been sure at the time that he would have any further use for shoes. Dead men needed no shoes.

  He turned over and prostrated himself on the side of the hill. It appeared as if he would have to belly crawl for some time if he wished to traverse the steep bank.

  Several excruciatingly long hours later, the bank leveled off slightly, and he was able to stand upright again without losing his balance and sliding back into the river. His feet, unaccustomed to going bare, ached as did his fingers from clawing at the planking of the sternwheeler. He had heretofore been able to ignore the pain in his head, but on standing upright, pressure seemed to make it throb.

  A long low whistle caught his attention, and he scanned the river. Nothing. However, a bend in the river just ahead blocked his view downriver. He waited, his heart pounding. Minutes passed as he strained to catch sight of the boat.

  At last! A sternwheeler came around the bend. He was rescued! He jumped up and down, shouting and waving his arms.

  “Hellooooo! I’m here! I’m here! Hey! Over here!”

  Nathan noted the river appeared to be extremely wide if shallow, and the boat kept to the opposite side to avoid large boulders protruding near his side of the river.

  “Hellloooo!!!”

  The sternwheeler chugged its way up the river, and Nathan tried jumping even higher in an attempt to be seen. Even from his position on the bank, he could hear the loud rhythmic slapping of the paddle on the water and the steady whoosh as the water rotated around the wheel—sounds which probably drowned his voice.

  He looked around for some device to force those on the boat to see him. Fire would have been perfect, but no wood lay nearby, and he had no matches. He grabbed rocks and hurled them toward the water to effect a splash. Nothing. They simply sunk. Having nothing else at hand, he grabbed loose sand and threw it into the air to form a cloud, and ended up doing nothing but coating his hair, face and clothes in the tan soil.

  “Helloooo!!! You there! It’s Nathan Carpenter!”

  He tried running up and down the bank, hoping the movement would capture a searching eye. Nothing. No whistle. If anything, he now blended into the bank having doused himself in sand.

  His throat burned from roaring, his neck veins felt as if they must explode, his chest ached from dragging in air for the next round of shouting.

  The sternwheeler continued moving, passing his position and moving further away upriver.

  Nathan bellowed until the sternwheeler passed out of sight, and he fell to his knees and stared at the empty river. Perhaps they had not looked for him after all. Surely, that sternwheeler had come from Wenatchee. Would they not have searched the riverbanks for him? Had he truly been that far away that they could not see him?

  Nathan scanned the far riverbank. No, unless he had binoculars, he would not have been able to pick out a wild man jumping up and down on the bank either. Especially one whose dark clothing now appeared beige and blended in with the sandy riverbank. There was little chance another sternwheeler would come through today as there were only two plying the river, and one of them had sunk.

  Telling himself that he would not reach Wenatchee by kneeling on the ground, Nathan pushed himself to a standing position and faced upriver again. He winced as he took a step and looked down to see blood on his feet. He must have cut them on the sharp rocks and sticky bushes which lay hidden under the sand. With a sigh, he removed his vest and shirt and ripped the sleeves from his shirt. He put his clothes back on and sat down to tie the sleeves around his feet into makeshift shoes.

  Standing once again, he tested them. Though his shirtsleeve slippers provided no padding, they did ease the stinging in his feet, and he set out again to head downriver with no clear idea of how far away he was from Wenatchee or any other town for that matter, and how long it would take to reach civilization.

  Day turned into night, and Nathan stopped when he could see no longer. He had sustained himself with water by drinking from the river, and by eating an apple he found bobbing along the bank. Manna from heaven, he had thought at the time. Or perhaps the apple had been lost overboard when the Cascades wrecked, and it had floated down the river.

  He dug out a trench for himself and buried himself in it, preparing once again for a long cold night. A distant howling sent shivers up Nathan’s spine. Wolves! He hoped the wolves would stay where they were—distant. He had no resources to fight off hungry wolves and was sorely lacking in energy and stamina. He had previously thought that life on the streets in the twenty-first century with only his coat and the occasional use of a shelter stave off freezing to death had been harsh, but he realized his present circumstances were much worse.

  This time though, he had Amanda. He had finally found her when it seemed all hope was lost, and she loved him. Nathan crossed his arms and dreamed of his dear love, hoping she was somewhere safe and warm and that he would see her again soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Robert took Amanda’s hand and tucked it under his arm as he led her toward her compartment. Mr. Carpenter followed them, still in shock by not only by the revelation that Nathan and Amanda had traveled in time, but also by the news that his grandson had died all over again.

  “I will see you settled, then I will tend to Mr. Carpenter,” Robert said in a low voice. “I am in the compartment just across the hall there,” he said. “Please do not hesitate to knock on my door if you need anything, Amanda. Anything at all.”

  Amanda nodded silently. She was numb, exhausted, drained. No amount of crying had brought Nathan back. Word had come from Mitch Cunningham that the crew of the Rockies had not found Nathan’s body on their way upriver. They certainly never expected to find him alive at this stage.

  The attendant pulled open the compartment door, and Amanda stepped in, hardly noticing the luxurious furnishings as she had before. The train was very similar to the one she and Nathan had been on when they arrived in Wenatchee. The bed was turned down in this compartment with white sheets on the bed covered by a warm red blanket. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet without seeing it.

  Robert patted her hand.

  “Please try to rest. We will reach Seattle in about eight hours. Ellie will meet us at the station.”

  Amanda nodded but didn’t look up. She really di
dn’t care. Robert was kind, and she was sure Ellie was great, but she really didn’t care.

  “Good night, Amanda.”

  Amanda nodded again.

  Robert closed the door behind himself, and Amanda stood to turn off the lights. She made her way back to the bed, and threw herself on it, propping her back against the bench back. She stared out of the window and watched as the train pulled out of the station.

  She wished more than anything that Nathan was right beside her, that they had married and that they had spent their lives together and grown old together. And if she couldn’t have that life with Nathan at her side, then she wished she were home. She couldn’t bear to stay in 1906 another moment. What for? The emptiness of her future, the darkness of the night, the cold that seeped into her bones deadened her. She hated 1906, and she hated the world at the moment—especially sternwheelers and rivers.

  The rumbling of the train along the tracks failed to fascinate her as it had always done. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize Nathan’s face as she first met him. Bearded, slightly desperate, handsome and in love with her—how had she not fallen for him the minute he dragged her into her tiny sleeping compartment? Perhaps she had.

  Amanda imagined that she stepped off the train in Spokane, in her time, and there was Nathan again—slightly bedraggled, his dark hair long and hanging in his face, huddled on the platform in a dark coat. This time, she would kneel down beside him and wrap her arms around him. She would kiss him, brush the hair from his face and tell him she loved him. She would promise him that they would never be parted again.

  “I love you, Nathan,” she breathed aloud. “I love you.”

  But her words were drowned out by the rumbling of the train. And she wished she were home.

  ****

  Amanda opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the window, warming her face. She rubbed her eyes and focused on her surroundings—a narrow twin bed, white sheets, a thin blue blanket, a steel sliding door covered by a matching royal blue curtain.

  She pushed herself upright on the bed and looked out the window. The train rumbled along the tracks at the edge of a large body of water. Near the water’s edge, dogs raced across green grass while owners watched. A dog park. She recognized the area. They were approaching Edmonds, a city north of Seattle.

  She had been asleep for about eight hours, and over one hundred years.

  Nathan! He was alive! It had all been a dream!

  Amanda jumped up, slid open the door of her sleeping compartment and dashed into the opposite compartment. But it was empty with no sign of occupancy. No sign of Nathan.

  Searing pain pierced her chest. She knew it was her heart, and she pressed a fist against it as if to massage the pain away.

  Nathan. Nathan. Where was he?

  That she had returned to her own time was clear. The gleaming steel of the train, the twin bed, the miniscule compartment, even the dog park by the water were all evidence that she was back.

  It couldn’t have been a dream. It had seemed too real. Nathan had seemed too real.

  Hot tears burned Amanda’s cheeks as she gathered her skirt and threw herself back onto the bed to stare out the window. She released her clutch on her skirt and dropped her eyes to the gray cotton.

  Skirts! She peeked underneath. And a petticoat. She had traveled back in time! She had! Amanda rubbed the tears from her face and jumped up again to pull open the door and peer out. How had she returned? What must Robert and Mr. Carpenter have thought? How worried they must be.

  The hallway was empty. No cabin attendant was in sight. She checked the opposite compartment once again. No Nathan relaxed in the compartment as he had before.

  Amanda thought she could not possibly cry any more than she had already. Nathan was dead, his body missing, and she had left that world behind. It was as if he died all over again. She felt as if she’d left him behind in some way, abandoned him. Her feelings made no sense, but she couldn’t deny a sense of guilt.

  She remembered wishing she were home the previous night. Had wishing been enough to return her to her own time? Then why couldn’t she wish Nathan alive? Why couldn’t she wish him in front of her? Why couldn’t she wish herself back to 1906 right then?

  She regretted her foolish mutterings of the night before. They had stemmed from a desire to escape the pain she felt, the desolation of losing Nathan just when she had found him. But who would have thought that wishing she were back in her own time would make it happen? Was that how it had happened for Robert’s wife? Had she just wished for Robert?

  Amanda returned to her own compartment and locked the door. She pulled the curtains shut to block the view of the fast-moving train, which would soon reach Edmonds and then Seattle. She would have to get off the train in Seattle. She could get right back on, but she had no money with her and no earthly idea where her purse was. Lost in time somewhere. She would need time to get money from her bank if she were to try to catch the train heading east again in about five hours.

  She closed her eyes and began to wish, speaking out loud.

  “I wish I was back in 1906. I wish I was in Wenatchee. I wish Nathan was still alive, and that we had a house in Wenatchee. No more riding the train. No more losing each other in time. I wish I was back in 1906. I wish Nathan was with me.”

  Nothing happened. No swirling images, no drifting through time. She opened one eye to see that she was still in the modern sleeper compartment. She closed her eyes again and repeated the words over and over, willing them to come true. Minutes passed, and still nothing happened. She heard the conductor’s announcement for arrival in Edmonds over the small speaker in the compartment, and she renewed her mantra, saying it over and over again, more quickly this time, more forcefully. The train would arrive in Seattle soon. She didn’t have much time. She could make this happen! She could will it!

  No swirling images appeared. The train rumbled on. Amanda pulled her knees up to her chest, buried her face in her arms and wished harder. The train arrived in Edmonds and pulled out again within minutes.

  Was she too far away? Did she need to be near Wenatchee? Hadn’t Nathan said that the point of time travel for all the women had been near Wenatchee?

  Amanda rocked back and forth but nothing helped. It wasn’t working. She couldn’t wish herself back. She had no idea how she had returned to her own time, because if wishing had been the key, she would have been back in 1906 by now.

  She pulled the curtain aside and watched the familiar landmarks showing their approach to Seattle. On her previous returns to Seattle, she had felt an inexplicable sadness at the end of the train trip though she had no idea why she rode the train so much. Whatever the reasons had been, riding the train had not made her happier. It had just been an insatiable need. She wondered now if she had been in search of Nathan all along, but didn’t know it.

  The anguish she felt on her return this time far surpassed the depression she had experienced on her previous returns. This time, she had lost someone. Nathan. She understood Nathan’s pain now, the pain of loss. How much it hurt.

  The train lurched and screeched as it came around a bend, reminding her of the sternwheeling accident. She began to shake again and tightened her grip around her legs. Nathan...cold and alone.

  What if she managed to get to her bank, got some money, and hopped the train again in five hours? She could make it. What if...what if she reached Wenatchee and found a way to travel back to just before the sternwheeling accident? What if she could save Nathan’s life?

  She grabbed the curtains and pulled them wide. Jumping up impatiently, she slid open the door and peered out into the hallway. Why hadn’t they reached Seattle yet? The sooner they were back, the sooner she could book her ticket for the next train.

  Finally, the cabin attendant descended the stairs and stepped to the doors at the center of the train, although she didn’t recognize him as the same attendant she’d had before. She gasped and she pulled her head back into her compartment. S
he wasn’t on that train. In fact, she probably didn’t even have a ticket for the train she was now on. She carefully twisted the lock on her door, pulled the curtains shut and held her breath, as if the attendant could somehow hear her breathe through the steel door.

  The plan was to slip out when they opened the doors. Arrival at the Seattle terminus was usually a bit of a madhouse, so she thought she could do it if the attendant didn’t spot her. She thought she might be noticeable in the skirt but she would just have to chance it. He probably wasn’t going to chase her down the platform toward the station even if he didn’t recognize her.

  The train pulled into King Street Station, and Amanda peered out the window. From an angle, she saw the cabin attendant step out of the car and move toward the rear of the train. She turned, flipped the lock and pulled open the door to fly down the hall and hop off the train. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that the attendant hadn’t seen her, and she hustled off to the station, ignoring the odd looks which came her way.

  She grabbed her skirts and hurried through the station to the parking lot. Her small blue car was where she had left it, but locked, and she had no keys. What now? She turned and scanned the surrounding buildings. There was a bank nearby, thankfully a branch of her bank, and she hurried up the street toward it.

  She stepped inside, hoping people would pay little attention to her dress. Walking around in the twenty-first century wearing an ankle-length skirt did not hold the same scandal that arriving in 1906 wearing knee-length stretch capris engendered. She grabbed a withdrawal slip from a counter and approached a young, fresh-faced teller.

  “Good morning. How can I help you?” the blonde girl said in a sing-song voice.

  “Good morning,” Amanda responded. “I’d like to withdraw some money from my account. I don’t have my card with me. In fact, my wallet was stolen. I just got off the train,” she looked over her shoulder as if the teller could see the train, “and, well...” She hoped the girl would fill in the blanks.