by Bess McBride
The train lurched as it often did, and Matthew grabbed the overhead hat rack. A series of further lurches, and the train pulled into the station. Matthew retrieved his hat and strode through the door of the compartment and toward the exit. He waited impatiently for the conductor to open the door before descending to the platform.
As he had predicted, other passengers shared his desire to step off the train. He regarded the small station, but no explanation for his sense of expectancy seemed to await him there.
Several newly arriving passengers boarded other cars of the train. He turned around to study the train itself. Lights glowed from many of the windows in the various cars, even from his own compartment. He had left his curtain partially open. Nothing seemed particularly extraordinary in the presentation of the train.
The evening air in Spokane was chillier than that of Seattle, and he pulled his jacket about him more tightly. A practical man by nature, he attempted to examine the odd sensation in his breast of an erratic heartbeat. Could he be sickening? Had he assigned some metaphysical influence to what could be nothing more than the beginnings of a common cold? He hoped not. He had no time for illness and was rarely ill.
Matthew surveyed the platform one more time. Seeing nothing that would arouse curiosity much less an unusual event, he sighed heavily, returning to the train and to his compartment. He pulled open the door and froze. A woman lay on his bench seat, seemingly fast asleep, her lower limbs pulled up in a childlike pose, one hand curled under her cheek.
The roasted almond color of her hair and the dark long johns encasing her limbs marked her as the woman of his dreams.
A FALL IN TIME
Bess McBride
A Fall in Time
Copyright 2014 Bess McBride
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the publisher and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Cover Art by Tara West
Contact information: [email protected]
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This story is dedicated to all my reader friends who enjoy the Train Through Time series of time travel romances.
To those of you who believe in the romance of trains, here’s hoping passenger train travel continues.
There’s nothing quite like it, is there?
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Books by Bess McBride
About the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing A Fall in Time. A Fall in Time is Book Five of the Train Through Time series. A Train Through Time was originally written as a stand-alone time travel romance, but readers asked for more, and thus a series was born.
This is Matthew Webster’s story, a turn-of-the-century man who thought he lost the love of his life until he met the woman who was truly destined to become the love of his life. That she traveled 114 years through time to fall in love with him only makes it that much sweeter!
Thank you for your support over the years, friends and readers. Because of your favorable comments, I continue to strive to write the best stories I can. More romances are on the way!
You know I always enjoy hearing from you, so please feel free to contact me at [email protected], through my website at http://www.bessmcbride.com, or my blog Will Travel for Romance.
Many of you know I also write a series of short cozy mysteries under the pen name of Minnie Crockwell. Feel free to stop by my web site and learn more about the series.
Thanks for reading!
Bess
Prologue
Sara Reed settled into her office chair and cracked open the window. Brilliantly lit golden leaves from the oak trees surrounding her apartment complex floated to the ground to join their brethren in mounds at the base of the trunks. A crisp breeze threatened to strip the trees of all their leaves in just that one morning. Fall had arrived.
She sipped her hot coffee and thought that nothing could improve the moment other than the sound of the train’s whistle. As if on cue, the mournful, but somehow hopeful, whistle blew, and the rumbling on the nearby tracks complemented the rustling of the leaves in the trees.
Although the train’s whistle blew often at regular intervals, Sara didn’t always pay attention to it. But that morning, as summer ended and fall announced itself in bold colors, the whistle seemed much more poignant than usual, as if it called to her.
She eyed the open computer on her desk. She had schoolwork to do, but the scene outside her window distracted her. Another whistle of the train pulled at something inside her, demanding she interact with it. With little forethought, she clicked on Amtrak’s website and pulled up the train schedule.
That she hadn’t been on a train in years didn’t seem to matter. The train called to her now. It was Wednesday, and she had no classes for the next few days. She had no destination in mind, no particular person who needed visiting. Something told her she needed to be on the train.
East or west? The prices made her gag. She couldn’t afford to go all the way to Chicago, the eastern terminus. A train ride to Seattle, only about 300 miles away, seemed like it would end before it began. Maybe something between too short and too expensive? She chose east.
Sara studied the schedule. Unfortunately, the next train out of Spokane heading east didn’t leave until 10:30 p.m. She sighed. Hopping onto a train late at night didn’t feel like it would hold the same romance as boarding during the day, but she’d take what she could get.
She closed her eyes and ran a finger along the computer screen to pick a destination. When she opened her eyes, her finger had stopped at Grand Forks, North Dakota, arriving at 11:17 p.m. the following day, a little over twenty-four hours. Why
not? She had never been to Grand Forks, but the price was right, and a twenty-four-hour train trip ought to answer the call of the train. She booked a seat in coach and leaned back in her chair to look out the window again at the fall landscape.
Chapter One
Matthew Webster stowed his pocket watch in his vest and climbed aboard the train for Chicago with a heavy heart. Ten past seven in the morning. It seemed quite clear to him that Emily had decided not to see him off on his business trip this time, though that had been her habit for the past several years. There was no point in waiting any further.
With a heavy heart, he followed the porter to his compartment. The porter set his bag on the overhead compartment, and Matthew sank down onto the bench seat to stare out the window toward the station. He held out little hope that Emily would fly down the tracks, skirts whipping about her heels, hanging onto her hat with one gloved hand while she waved to him with the other.
She had given him her decision the previous day and had made it abundantly clear that she could not love him in the way that he loved her. He remembered her words.
“I am sorry, Matthew, but I cannot marry you. We have known each other for far too long, and I simply cannot see you as a husband. You are like a beloved brother to me.” She had shaken her head sadly. “But not a husband.”
Even now, Matthew felt the pain of her words. It had never occurred to them that they might not marry. Had they not always been destined for each other? Had their families not always expected it of them? Had he not always loved her—the little girl with the blonde ringlets who had lived next door, who had played hide and seek with him?
He could think of no other words to persuade her. He had told her he loved her, that he had never loved another, and then he had lowered himself to one knee and proposed. The look of shock on her face had taken him by surprise, but he had persevered.
He should have followed his instincts and stopped then. Emily’s face had always been transparent, showing her every emotion. Shock was not the expression one hoped to see on the face of one’s beloved when receiving a proposal.
“I can see that I have taken you by surprise, Emily,” he had said. “And I must give you time to think. You know I travel to Chicago on business tomorrow. Please do not give me your final answer until you have thought about my proposal. When you come to the station to see me off in the morning, let me know if there is any hope for me.”
At that moment, a maid had come to announce that visitors had arrived, and Emily excused herself with cheeks reddened by emotion.
Unwilling to imagine the rest of his life without Emily, Matthew sought to block his unknown future as he rested his head against the back of the bench seat and closed his eyes. The train pulled away, taking him away from Emily. No, that was not an apt description, not at all. The train more properly put Emily out of his reach.
He swallowed hard and willed himself to sleep.
He had spent a sleepless night trying not to concentrate on the emptiness of his future. Emily had said that they must remain friends, for hadn’t they always been so? She had said she treasured their friendship and did not wish to lose it.
Then why did his future seem so bleak?
Moments later, a knock on the door startled him, and he cursed.
“Good morning, sir,” the porter, a middle-aged man of African descent, said. “We are serving tea, coffee and a light breakfast in the observation lounge. Or would you like to breakfast in the dining room?”
Matthew was about to tell the porter he would dine in the dining room, but he imagined all the friendly and jovial faces he did not care to see—fellow travelers who were embarking on holidays or journeys to see family. He could not stomach the thought of so much joyful anticipation.
“Please bring me something here, will you?” he said, fishing in his wallet for a sizeable tip. “Some coffee, something to eat. I do not care what.”
Matthew ignored the porter’s startled look and turned away to stare out the window. The train wended its way along Seattle’s waterfront as it headed north to Everett before turning east. He normally enjoyed the tranquil vista of the azure blue waters of Puget Sound, but he could take no peace from the scenery today. Even the brilliant orange and yellow foliage of the forests bordering the water could not rouse him from his despondency.
The train soon left all evidence of civilization behind with the exception of several tall ships and frigates sailing up the Sound, no doubt bound for the Pacific Ocean. Many-storied brick buildings, dusty city roads and the general haze overlying the city seemed a thing of the past.
As did his future. He sighed heavily. Could one’s future be a thing of the past? What an odd turn of phrase, to be sure. Matthew shook his head as if to rid himself of unhelpful philosophical questions. They served only to prolong his unhappiness.
The porter returned with his breakfast, and Matthew helped himself to coffee, eyeing the food with distaste. Emily’s rejection of his proposal had come after a comfortable dinner at a Seattle restaurant they had favored for several years. He had accompanied her inside her parents’ house with the express request to speak to her privately.
He supposed he must consider himself lucky that he had not gone down on one knee in public. As he considered such an image, his heart thumped soundly for one quick moment as he thought that perhaps if he had... Perhaps if he had, the outcome might have been different.
He snorted. No, it was not likely. Bending on one knee in a restaurant would only serve to trip a waiter but would not have ensured that Emily agreed to marry him. No, not only agreed but eagerly anticipated such a union with him.
Matthew did not doubt that Emily loved him. Had they not been as thick as thieves for years? He also harbored no illusions that she would change her mind, that she had been mistaken in her feelings for him and could love him as a husband. Emily had been a stubborn child and had grown to become a willful, independent woman. She knew her own mind.
She did not love him as he loved her. Nothing would change that, he was certain of it.
He set down his coffee, ignored the tray of food and closed his eyes once again.
Matthew awoke some hours later with a start, somewhere in the middle of a disturbing dream. The porter must have come in and removed his tray, for it was gone. A glance out of the window showed the sky was darkening over what he knew to be vast plains of amber grass. He knew from previous travels that they must have already passed over the Cascade Mountains and were well underway toward eastern Washington.
Blearily, he retrieved his pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. Four fifty-five p.m. He had slept through the train stops in Everett and Wenatchee, and he had slept through lunch. In fact, he had mercifully slept the day away. The next stop was Spokane at approximately 7:55 p.m. Given that the weather was still mild for fall, the train, unhampered by winter snowstorms, would most likely be on time.
Matthew stood and stretched his legs, something nagging at him. Emily’s image, never far from his mind these last few days, came unbidden. But it was not Emily’s image that had haunted his dreams. It was not Emily’s image that had awakened him so abruptly.
His dreams had centered around a young woman, a most unusual young woman. Unbound hair the color of roasted almonds danced on her shoulders. Her slender form had been encased in rather formfitting clothing that defied imagination. He could have sworn she wore nothing more on her lower limbs than thick dark underwear such as one wore on cold winter nights to bed—long johns, they were called.
Matthew pressed his lips together as he chastised himself for taking such liberties with his dreams. Women did not wear such garments, and he could not imagine how he could envision such a garment on a woman. As with most men, Matthew was no stranger to his baser side, but his parents’ teachings had ensured that he regarded women with respect. He had never been one to dally the day away in sensual imaginings of women in various forms of undress.
In his estimation, a woman was infinitely more
desirable if she possessed the characteristics of intelligence, humor, kindness and sound reasoning. Emily had most of those characteristics. She lacked certain elements of kindness, but he was not deterred.
Nevertheless, tightly fitting clothing aside, Matthew remembered that the young woman in his dream had sat by a window and listened to the sound of the train whistle. She sipped coffee and contemplated purchasing a ticket for the train with no particular destination in mind.
Matthew might have considered it odd to simply step aboard a train going to an undetermined location had not he been grateful for the scheduled business trip, which took him east just when he needed to leave town the most, when he felt heartsick and could not stay to see Emily day after day.
In his dreams, the young woman felt the train calling to her. That seemed a bit farfetched, but he conceded that trains held a mysterious power over him as well, and had he not needed to take the train for business, he would have traveled for the sheer joy of rumbling along on the tracks and listening for the occasional wail of the train’s whistle.
The hour for dinner approached, and Matthew, knowing he must eat something, made his way to the dining car. He was seated with an elderly couple who beamed throughout the meal, stating they traveled east to attend their grandson’s wedding in Chicago. Matthew nodded politely but privately wished he had asked the porter to bring him something in his compartment. The very last thing he had needed was to join people who rhapsodized about weddings and marriage.
