NIGHT TRAIN
Chapter Four

Wednesday, Thanksgiving Week, 1948

“And who might you be?” asked the young woman with straight, silky blond hair and bright blue eyes.

She was talking to the handsome toddler who had wandered over to her.

“Peter. That’s my mom,” said the red haired little boy, pointing to an attractive brunette a few feet away.

“Peter, don’t bother the lady. She is waiting for someone too,” said the child’s mother.

“Yes, Pete, come on over here,” replied the boy’s father.

“That’s okay,” answered the young woman. “I am waiting for someone to come on the train. My daddy. Who are you waiting for?” she said kneeling down to Peter’s height.

“My grandma is coming. From I-W-A. It’s far,” announced Peter.

“Well, they must be on the same train, Pete,” she said.

“Yep,” he nodded knowingly. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Jean, my dad calls me Jeannie.”

“Isn’t your mom coming too?” persisted young Peter, with more questions.

A shadow crossed Jean’s face.

“She can’t come,” she said, praying that the child would ask no further questions.

“Honestly, Peter, come here and watch for Grandma. Here, hold the flowers we picked out for her,” said Peter’s father. “Sorry, miss. He is at that age.”

She waved her hand in front of her face.

“No, no, it’s no problem.”

Jeannie thought about how great it would be to see her dad. She hoped that they would have time to talk about their work, their art, cook some meals together and maybe go drive up along the coast for the day. To have the kind of undisturbed time they had shared when she was growing up. In addition to spending time with her dad, she was also anxious for him to meet Doug, her fiancé. He was coming up from Long Beach tomorrow for Thanksgiving and she was very anxious for the two men in her life to meet and hopefully get along.

“Richard, will you hold Peter for a minute. I need to tuck in his shirt and pants before your mother gets here,” said Peter’s mother Louise.

The tall man called Richard scooped up his young son and held him while all the necessary adjustments were made.

“He’ll just get messed up again in a second, Louise. And besides, Mother will be so happy to see him, she won’t care.”

“I know, but it gives me something to do while we are waiting.”

There was a crackling over the loudspeaker.

“Now arriving on Track 5, the City of Los Angeles.”

Jean could see the light of the engine as it pulled the long train slowly into the train shed. In just a few minutes now she would see her dad. She had been thinking about his arrival for weeks, since he first said he was coming for Thanksgiving.

“And soon Peter, you will see your grandma,” she called to Peter a few feet away.

He beamed.

“My grandma is real pretty,” he announced to Jeannie, bobbing his head up and down.

“I’m sure she is,” chuckling to herself how a child would think even a 70 year old gray haired grandmother would be beautiful. Love was like that.

Slowly the passengers started to drift off the train. Jeannie stood on her tiptoes to see if she could see him coming. She thought she recognized a familiar person far down the platform, but it could not be her father. That person was walking slowly, head bent, holding hands with a woman. Usually her dad was one of the first ones off the train.

“I see Grandma,” shouted Peter, who was perched at a vantage point on his father’s shoulders. “Who’d Grandma bring with her?” he said.

“Grandma’s coming alone,” said Richard.

“But she is NOT,” the boy insisted.

Jack and Rose walked slowly along the platform, holding hands. He often bent down to say something to her and to kiss her hair. She smiled shyly, blushing, giving him glances with half closed lids.

“Nervous?” he asked her, as he tenderly brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.

“A little”, she admitted. “These children of ours are going to be shocked, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack answered, looking serious. “But we’ve overcome more difficult things. I know it will be alright. You’ll see.”

Rose looked up at Jack. His words sounded so comforting. Still though, she wondered what her son would think when he saw her with Jack. Richard had been very close to his father and revered his memory, almost obsessively. Rose was certain that appearing with Jack like this would surely make him uncomfortable and unhappy. But she had to listen to her heart. Nothing would interfere with her chance to love Jack again. They would just have to work things out. She glanced ahead at the crowd of people waiting at the end of the platform. Rose saw Richard with Peter on his shoulders.

“Has he already spotted us?” she wondered.

Maybe they should not be holding hands or walking so close to each other. But Jack was not letting her go. Perhaps it was better to show just where things stood right from the beginning.

Jeannie stood in a state of shock, her eyes filling with tears, as she realized that it her father walking hand in hand with a woman. What was happening to their weekend together? Who was she? She looked again at the redhead who held her father’s hand. She had seen her before. But where? Then she put her hands to her face.

“I know. Dad drew some pictures of her. Oh my God!”

A few years ago, Jack had asked Jeannie to put something away in his gallery safe. There she had found an old leather art portfolio. She hadn’t meant to look, but she was curious. Opening it, she found drawing after drawing of the woman she now saw before her. What was worse was that they were not just casual drawings, they were languid, sensual pieces of art that suggested an intimate relationship. They were from a long time ago. 1913, 1914. Long before her parents had met. What was going on? Why had her father never said anything?

“Richard, there is someone with your mother. Did she say she was bringing anyone?” asked Louise. “Maybe it’s someone she met on the train.”

“No, she didn’t. Louise, look at them. That is no casual relationship. They look like they possess each other, body and soul,” said Richard nervously.

“Yes, I see what you mean,” answered Louise. “They look like they have known each other since the beginning of time. Who is that man?”

Jeannie stepped closer to the other family. She had heard what they said. And added a few words of her own.

“I think they have known each other since the beginning of time. I can’t explain it, but I just sense there is something going on. Something from the past maybe. And the man? It’s my father.”

“That’s ironic,” said Richard, turning to Jean, “after we have been standing here talking."

“Has he ever talked about someone in his life?” he asked her.

Jeannie just shook her head and looked again at the woman with her dad. If that was little Peter’s grandmother, she was certainly no gray-haired seventy year old. She was a very attractive middle aged woman who didn’t look old enough to have a grown son, much less a grandchild!

“Never, he never seemed to want to get involved with anyone,” said Jeannie, still watching her father in disbelief.

“I can’t understand it either,” commented Richard. “Mother once said that when you lose someone very special, you never feel the same about getting close to anyone again. And it’s strange. She said that before Dad died. It was almost as if she were speaking of some loss she had once experienced.”

“Here they come,” said Jeannie. “I think this should be very interesting.”

It was an awkward moment, because as they approached their families, Rose and Jack sensed that they were already the topic of conversation.

“Trust me Rose, it’ll be alright. I promise,” Jack told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

She smiled at him, happy to see that the lonely haunted look had left his eyes.

“It was amazing what one night could do,” she thought, blushing at the thought of what had happened between the two of them. For what had occurred last night between two mature adults was much different from what had taken place years ago in the cramped, freezing back seat of a car with two kids.

Rose and Jack let go of each other and walked to their waiting families.

“Oh, Jeannie, it’s good to see you,” cried Jack, hugging his daughter.

She hugged her father back, but somehow this was not the reunion she had dreamed of.

“Is it Dad? Do you really mean it?” she asked him, trying hard not to sound disappointed.

“Of course, I mean it. I’ve been waiting months for this. Come on, let’s go, so we can start our visit. Just give me a minute here.”

“Sure, Dad. I understand,” said Jeannie quietly, not understanding at all.

“How’s my Peter?” cried Rose, taking the little boy from his father. “And how is my own boy,” she asked looking up at Richard. “Louise, you look wonderful,” said Rose, trying to talk to everyone at once.

“Mother, I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Richard, this is one trip I wouldn’t have missed for anything. It’s made a real difference in my life,” replied Rose, casting a glance at Jack.

“You just met him,” whispered her son, impatiently.

Rose ignored the remark, handed Peter back to Richard, and walked to Jack.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise Rose,” said Jack, taking her hand. “I will call. Trust me,” he pleaded, sensing her reluctance to part.

“I trust you Jack. It’s just that I’m afraid…” she couldn’t finish.

“Rose, come here,” he said pulling her closer, unconcerned with what anyone thought. “We are not on Titanic now,” he whispered. “We have to get through tomorrow with our families. We have to do that. And then on Friday, we’ll get an early start and do something, just the two of us. How does that sound?” She nodded her approval and smiled. Rose hadn’t felt this way in years. As if she could do anything. And with Jack at her side she could. He had always inspired confidence in her, even when she thought he had been lost.

“But after Friday, I am never letting her out of my sight again,” he thought to himself.

“I love you, Jack,” she said softly.

“It’s going to be alright now. I love you too. We’re going to make it this time. I won’t let you go…ever again,” he promised, reaching down to kiss her, not caring if the whole world saw him.

Chapter Five
Stories