The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [65]
The train was coming, just like the man at the ticket counter had promised. She listened to the announcement listing the destinations between here and Boston as people stood and reached for their bags. Nick automatically started gathering the baby paraphernalia.
They were headed home, each and every one of them. A little snow wasn’t going to stand in their way.
Chapter 2
“I Wonder as I Wander”
The train filled up quickly, and Len was fortunate to find a seat next to a grandmotherly woman who pulled out her knitting the moment she’d made herself comfortable. Mesmerized, he watched her fingers expertly weave the yarn, mentally counting stitches in an effort to keep his mind off the time and how long it was taking his fellow passengers to get settled.
The nervousness in the pit of his stomach began to ease as the conductor, an elderly white-haired gentleman, shuffled slowly down the aisle, checking tickets.
“Will we reach Boston before noon?” That question came from the woman with the baby seated across from him.
Len was grateful she’d asked; he was looking for answers himself.
“Hard to say with the snow and all.”
“But it has to,” she groaned, again voicing his own concerns. “We’ll never catch our flight otherwise.”
“I heard the airports are closed between Bangor and Boston,” he said amiably. He scratched the side of his white head as if that would aid his concentration. “The train’s running, though, and you can rest assured we’ll do our best to see you make it to Boston in time.”
His words reassured more than the young couple with the baby. Len’s anxious heart rested a little easier, too. Glancing at the older woman in the seat next to him, he decided some conversation might help distract him.
“Are you catching a flight in Boston?”
“Oh, no,” she said, tugging on the red yarn. “My daughter and her family live in Boston. I’m joining them for Christmas. Where are you headed?”
“Rawhide, Texas,” Len said, letting his pride in his state show through his words.
“Texas,” she repeated, not missing a stitch. “Ron and I visited Texas once. Ron wanted to see the Alamo. He’s my husband…was my husband. He died this October.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she murmured with such utter sadness that Len had to look away. She recovered quickly and continued. “It’s mind-boggling that people can fly across this country in only a few hours, isn’t it?”
It was a fact that impressed Len, too, but he was more grateful than astonished. He felt even more appreciative when the whistle pierced the chatter going on about him. Almost immediately the train started to move, then quickly gained speed. Everyone aboard seemed to give a collective sigh of relief.
Len and the widow chatted amicably for several minutes and eventually exchanged names. Cathy asked him a couple of questions, about Texas and the navy, and he asked her a few. After a while, their conversation died down and they returned to their own thoughts.
The train traveled at a slow but steady pace for an hour or so. The unrelenting snow whirled around them, but the passengers were warm and cozy. For all the worry this storm had caused earlier, it didn’t seem nearly as intimidating from inside the train. Relaxed, Len stretched out his legs, confident that with a little luck, he’d connect with the flight out of Logan International.
The train stopped now and then at depots on the way. Each stop resulted in a quick exchange of passengers. Len noticed that the storm appeared to have changed people’s holiday plans; far more exited the train than entered. The brief stops lasted no more than ten minutes, and soon there were a number of vacant seats in the passenger car. Before long Len heard the conductor say they’d be crossing into New Hampshire.
Len figured you could fit all of these tiny New England states inside Texas. He’d seen cattle ranches that were larger than Rhode Island! The thought produced a pang of homesickness. The song sure got it right—there’s no place like home for the holidays. His life belonged to the navy now, but he was a Texas boy through and through.