A Fall in Time (Train Through Time Series Book 5)

by Bess McBride

  She dashed for the stairs just as the porter shut the door. Stopping short, she looked to her right to see the conductor climbing aboard as the train began to move. Short of jumping from the platform and clinging to the stairs, Sara could do nothing but watch it leave.

  The bustle at the train station did not end with the train’s departure, but time seemed to stand still for Sara. As if flaunting its warmth and relative security, the lights of the train twinkled as it disappeared around a bend.

  Sara swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Crying wasn’t going to help her predicament. She turned around and studied the station again. What was she going to do? Probably the same thing she would have done in Grand Forks, North Dakota, but what?

  She caught the occasional glances of workers, but in general, they seemed to be a busy group, probably in a hurry to complete their tasks and climb back in bed. She eyed the station but thought it best to avoid it, at least for the moment. A shiver overtook her again, and she wondered how she was going to manage. She tried hard not to think about the future. This aberration of time and place couldn’t last forever. It just couldn’t.

  “Look out there!” a man yelled, and Sara looked over her shoulder. A man with a cart of luggage attempted to go around her, but she stepped out of his way.

  She couldn’t just stand on the platform, especially once the sun came up. She eyed several wooden benches positioned along the brick wall. No one huddled on them, so she guessed she wouldn’t be huddling there either. She would surely be chased away. And to what end would she perch on a bench? She couldn’t very well live at the train station, wishing and hoping she would somehow be transported forward in time.

  Or could she?

  Sara changed her mind and made her way into the depot building. She stepped inside the doorway and scanned the interior. Some passengers still congregated as if awaiting luggage and rides. A station agent stood behind a counter, helping out other passengers.

  A stairwell led off to the right, and Sara headed for that without looking over her shoulder. If someone yelled, she would stop, but until then, she was going to move fast. She hurried up the wooden stairs and reached the second floor, a long carpeted hallway flanked by a series of closed doors. She started twisting knobs and looking in, noting offices that looked as if they might be in use during the day. None of the rooms appeared unused.

  She leaned against the final door and sighed. Not even a bathroom. That must be located on the first floor. Could she find a storage room or something on the first floor? Where did they store parcels and packages? Surely they had a room for abandoned luggage?

  Sara crept back down the stairs and hugged the wall. Luckily, the station agent looked too occupied to notice her. She peered around the edge of the stairs. Packages and boxes were stacked along the wall just to her right, as if waiting to be stored. She took a deep breath and darted out of the relative darkness of the stairwell and around the corner. She pushed open the door behind the packages and jumped into a darkened room.

  Sara dared not flip on a light switch even if she thought she could find it. She eased the door shut behind her and paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Several windows allowed reflected light from the lamps outside the building to dispel some of the darkness.

  The room definitely appeared to be for storage. Packages and boxes were stacked on wooden shelves. Several pieces of old-fashioned luggage were piled into a corner to the left of the door.

  It was likely the station agent or baggage handlers would enter the storeroom to store more boxes and packages once the crowd from the train thinned. She didn’t see how she could escape detection in here for long.

  Sara eyed the luggage. Abandoned? Maybe she could at least find a warmer coat in one of the cases.

  Sara pressed a button on one of the locks on the smallest case, a little square thing. Unlocked, it popped open. She closed it again and, thinking the case would be light, was surprised to discover that she had to half carry, half drag the luggage to the far corner of the large room. Had she known the bag would be so heavy, she would have grabbed one of the larger cases.

  She found a secluded spot behind a large shelf holding boxes and set the case down. The light coming through the window shone on the brass fittings of the case, and she fumbled with the locks again.

  The case opened, and she quietly eased the sides down to the floor to study the contents. Sara wasn’t about to say that luck favored her, because she was pretty sure it hadn’t, but the case did appear to belong to a woman—a woman who was going to lose some of her clothing, if she hadn’t abandoned her luggage.

  Sara squinted and pulled out a long dark garment—a skirt, though she couldn’t really make out the color. The material felt like cotton. Fascinated, she rummaged further and found a light-colored, long-sleeved blouse, also in cotton. What else would she need? Something to keep her warm. Shoes? She felt her way among the things in the case, touching something hard. She pulled a pair of ankle boots from the case and held them up to her feet. They seemed a bit large, but she decided to take them anyway.

  By now, a sliver of daylight lightened the sky outside, making it easier to see the contents of the case, but also making discovery easier by anyone who came into the room and walked toward the back.

  She jumped to her feet, stepped out of her canvas shoes and pulled the skirt over her yoga pants. If anything, the pants would actually serve as long johns, keeping her warm underneath the skirt.

  The skirt fit snugly around her waist, a large band coming to a point over her abdomen. She slipped out of her red T-shirt and into the long-sleeved blouse. Unfortunately, the high-necked blouse appeared to button down the back, and she could only reach the buttons at her neck. No matter, she had no intention of giving up her warm fleece jacket.

  There appeared to be an excessive amount of material on the front of the blouse, and she wondered if that was the style. Sara ran her hands across her neck and upper chest to feel intricately crocheted lace.

  She shrugged and bent to slip her foot into one of the boots. Scratchy on the inside, she quickly pulled it off. No, her own shoes would have to do, just like the fleece jacket. Surely they had eccentric dressers in nineteen hundred, didn’t they?

  She glanced out the window again to see that she was probably now visible to anyone outside, and she ducked down. She’d have to get out of the storeroom for now, perhaps for the day, but it might be a place to sleep at night, at least until she could figure out what to do with herself.

  Sara secured the case and returned it to its place. She hoped the owner of the case wouldn’t recognize the clothes Sara wore. She grabbed her T-shirt and eyed it. What to do with the bright thing?

  She folded it as flat as she could and lifted her skirt to tie it around her hips. Then she shrugged into her jacket, noting she couldn’t zip it up, given the fullness of the lace on the front of the blouse. She shrugged and moved to the door. The station had quieted somewhat, and Sara eased the door open.

  All the passengers had dispersed, and the lobby was empty. She scanned the counter on the opposite side of the room but didn’t see the station agent. She pulled the door wide enough to slip through and popped outside, closing the door behind her without turning around.

  She moved along the wall, trying to appear invisible as she headed for the front door. A large sheet of paper on a bulletin board caught her eye—Help Wanted!

  She looked over her shoulder, and seeing no one about, took time to read the notice.

  “Help Wanted! Ticket Clerk. Must be able to read and write English. Please inquire at the counter.”

  Sara drew in a sharp breath. Well, she could certainly read and write English. She looked down at her clothing. The lights of the lobby revealed that her bell-shaped skirt was dark blue, the blouse a soft white. She pulled the sides of her jacket tightly across her chest and turned to stare at the counter. How hard could it be? She needed a job, especially if she was to find somewhere to stay.
She had no idea how long she was stuck in nineteen hundred, but she didn’t think she could stay in the train station without being discovered.

  The door leading to the platform opened, and a tall man stepped in. Sara’s heart thumped. Outlined against the gray light of dawn, he looked like Matthew!

  “Can I help you, miss?” the man said, removing a conductor-style hat. The lights shown on his face. No, not Matthew. His hair was white, and he was considerably older, maybe in his early sixties. He was the station agent she had seen behind the counter.

  He approached, and Sara held her breath, certain she couldn’t pass for a turn-of-the-century woman. Her knees shook under the skirt.

  “Miss?” he asked.

  “I was wondering about the job,” Sara blurted out.

  The agent’s thick white handlebar mustache twitched as if he hadn’t heard right. He blinked.

  “The ticket clerk?” he asked.

  Sara nodded. “I can read and write English.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you can,” he said, fixing her with amused blue eyes, “but I can’t say that we’ve ever hired a woman for the job.”

  Sara stiffened.

  “Well, it’s a good time to start, don’t you think?” she asked. “I’m new in town, and I need a job. I promise you, I can do the job if you show me how.”

  “Where are you from, Miss...”

  “Sara Reed.” She thrust out what she hoped was a businesslike hand. He shook it.

  “I’m from Spokane,” she finished. She wanted to smile, but her face seemed frozen.

  “Walter Wheeler,” he said. “I suppose you’re right. I know other stations have hired a few women as telegraphers and clerks. I guess we could too.”

  He raised a hand to twirl a corner of his mustache as if he was thinking. Sara begged him silently but kept her face immobile while she waited.

  “Tell you what. You sound like a smart girl. Let’s try you out for a few days. If you don’t get it, no harm. Whaddya say?”

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Great!” she said. “When do I start?”

  He turned and looked at the counter. “Well, you could start right now. I’ve got some time to show you the ropes. We’re not too busy right now.”

  Sara resisted the temptation to stall. She was hungry, tired and, frankly, scared, but she needed the job. Walter was likely to tell her to take a hike if she came up with any reason why she couldn’t start right away.

  “Sounds good,” she said. She followed him around the perimeter of the counter and through a door leading into the agent’s office.

  For the next few hours, Sara ignored her hunger pangs as she watched and listened to Walter. Though she warmed up, she kept her jacket on, remembering that her blouse was only half buttoned down the back. She also ignored her need to use the restroom—Walter apparently requiring no such breaks.

  Almost three hours after they started, Walter leaned back in his wooden office chair.

  “I think you’re catching onto this stuff pretty quickly,” he said. “How about a break for lunch? I don’t suppose you brought any food with you.”

  Sara, pressing her legs tightly together, shook her head. She licked her parched lips.

  “I need to use the restroom,” she said.

  Walter nodded in the direction of a door that sported the sign Toilet.

  “Thanks,” she said. She stood, pushed back her chair and promptly tripped over her skirt. Walter jumped up and caught her.

  “Steady there, young lady,” he said with a laugh.

  With a red face, Sara thanked him, and clutching her skirt, she headed for the bathroom. She stepped inside and looked around. Not an unpleasant room, the floor was tiled in white and the single porcelain sink clean. The toilet was different—but not so unusual that she couldn’t figure out the need to pull the chain to make it flush.

  She did her best to simultaneously wriggle her yoga pants down while hiking the snug bell-shaped skirt as high as she could. She managed successfully, and business concluded, she pulled the chain to hear a gurgle of water. She moved to the sink and washed her hands, drying them on the available cotton towel.

  The single mirror over the sink reflected her image from the chest up, and she bent forward to eye the lovely lacework on her blouse. Something seemed off, and Sara tilted her head and looked at her face. Dark shadows highlighted the darkness of her brown eyes. Her skin looked pale against the brunette tones of her shoulder-length hair, which now looked tousled.

  Her hair! No! Women didn’t wear their hair willy-nilly at the turn of the century, did they? No! They wore it up in buns. What must Walter have thought of her?

  Sara turned and surveyed the room, looking for a length of string or twine or something, but the room was fairly Spartan. Her hair was fine and just a little curly. There was no way she was going to be able to just wrap it up into a bun and have it stay.

  Her T-shirt! Sara lifted her skirt again and pulled the T-shirt from around her waist. She bit and tugged and pulled until she managed to tear off a length of the bright-red hem. She tied the now shredded T-shirt around her waist again, and eyed her hair.

  Pulling it up to the crown of her head, she wrapped the T-shirt ribbon around her hair in a ponytail. Then she wrapped the whole into a bun, securing it within the confines of the ribbon.

  She tried twisting this way and that but couldn’t see her handiwork in the mirror. All she could do was hope that it passed for presentable.

  She returned to the office to find Walter on his feet and waiting for her.

  “Let’s go have some lunch at the café,” he said, donning his hat.

  Sara balked.

  “I...uh...I’m not hungry,” she said. She was starving, but she had no way to pay for lunch. She’d been so busy trying to learn the job, she hadn’t yet figured out how she was going to eat...or sleep.

  “Sure you are! My treat,” he said. He held the door of the office open.

  Sara didn’t argue. If this was going to be her last meal for a while, she’d take the freebie! She followed Walter out of the station and into the rest of the early twentieth century.

  Chapter Seven

  Matthew awakened to a jolt of the train, momentarily disoriented to time and place. He turned toward the window to ascertain the approximate time of day but could find no window. A dark curtain across the length of his bed to the right confused him.

  The train! The tourist sleeper! Yes, he was in the tourist sleeper. He pushed himself upright and pulled aside the velvet curtain. Light flooded the compartment from the now unshaded windows of several of the lower berths. He peered over the edge of his berth to find that his companion had risen and vanished, the bed still unmade.

  Several people moved to and fro in the aisle, some fully dressed, some in dressing gowns. Matthew reached for his vest to retrieve his pocket watch.

  Five minutes before seven. He could not remember whether he had instructed the porter to awaken him, but he had asked the conductor to ensure that Miss Reed was awakened at seven for breakfast. He was to pick her up at 7:30.

  Matthew, eschewing a ladder, grabbed his clothing and toiletries and swung his legs over the edge of the upper berth to lower himself to the ground. He fumbled for his dressing gown and slippers and slipped those on before hurrying off to the dressing room.

  Accomplishing the necessaries in good time, with case in hand he retraced his steps to the first-class sleeping compartment. As he approached the compartment, his heart began to thump uncomfortably against his chest, and he attributed the sensation to renewed concern for Miss Reed and her plight. The train was due to reach Grand Forks late that night, and he truly hoped that family awaited her at the station. If they did not, he was not certain he could allow Miss Reed to detrain.

  He quirked an eyebrow at his own audacity. It was not, of course, within his power to prevent her from leaving the train, but he thought he might attempt to dissuade her from doing so if she was without family or means
. He hoped he might have opportunity to delve further into her history during the course of the day.

  However, at the moment, he planned to leave his case in the first-class sleeping compartment and escort Miss Reed to breakfast. He knocked on the compartment door and waited.

  When she failed to answer, he knocked again. Another check of his watch showed him it was 7:30 on the dot. He prided himself on his punctuality.

  “Miss Reed?” he called in a low voice. He knocked again.

  No response.

  Matthew pulled the door slightly ajar but turned his head in case Miss Reed was not yet dressed.

  “Miss Reed, are you in there?”

  Still no response. He turned and pulled the door wide. The compartment appeared to be empty. The bed was made, and there was no sign of Miss Reed. He knocked on the door of the lavatory, but she didn’t respond.

  “Good morning, sir,” the porter said as he stepped into the room with a tray holding coffee service.

  Matthew swung around.

  “George! Where is Miss Reed, the lady—my sister, who is staying in here?”

  “I don’t know, sir. She was gone when I came to wake her. I thought she might have gone into breakfast.”

  “Yes, that’s it!” Matthew said hastily. He dropped his case on the bench seat. “I’ll find her there.”

  He hurried past the porter and made his way to the dining car. A check of the diners failed to reveal Miss Reed. Where could she be?

  Matthew made a thorough search of as many of the cars as possible, but Miss Reed was not among the passengers. He returned to his compartment, hoping to find her there, but she had not returned to the room in his absence.

  He dropped to the bench seat and stared out the window.

  George stopped by again.

  “Can I get you anything, sir? Coffee, tea?”

  Matthew turned to regard the porter.

  “Are you certain you didn’t waken Miss Reed, that is...my sister, this morning, George? Did you see her at all? Anywhere on the train?”