The Christmas Train (8 page)

“But I know already. In my heart I know someone she loves has died and she tries to dig the grave.”

“A grave?” Anna is transfixed. “Who died?”

A ghost of a smile flits over Miss Eva's face. “Her daughter. Her daughter who is simple, but who is all the lady had left. Her husband is dead; she tells me this later. Dead somewhere near Dijon. And now her child is gone. She wants to be dead, too. But she is alive. And she takes me in and makes me be alive again.”

“You mean she cured you of pneumonia?”

“
Ja
. And she tells the people in the village and on the little farms around her that I am her cousin's daughter come from Berlin to help her with the farm. And so I stay with her until the war is over.”

“She took care of you.” Anna is so relieved that Miss Eva's story has a happy ending.

Miss Eva nodded. “She was a good woman, Hilda, but a sad woman. When there is war, you try so hard to live, just to live until it is over. But then . . . then it is over. But it is never the same. Never the way it was before the war comes. They killed the Madman. But it didn't make everything better. Too many people are dead. Too many places are gone, blown up or burned down and gone forever.” She paused, struggling for breath. “Hilda, too. After the war is over and we are safe at last . . . that's when she died. I think she wanted to go, to be with her husband and her girl. She was tired of this . . . this life.”

She closed her eyes, and in her weary, sunken face Anna saw the frailty no longer disguised by animation. Fear stabbed through her, sharp and cold. Miss Eva was old, her brain didn't work right anymore, and she was going to die, just like Nana Rose had, lost in the past and forgetting all about the people that were around her here in the present.

Anna turned away, fighting back sudden tears. She didn't hardly know this lady. Why should she cry about her and what happened to her such a long, long time ago, before Anna was even born?

But she wasn't crying just for Miss Eva, or for Nana Rose, or even because of her selfish mother and stupid father. She was crying because life wasn't fair. It hadn't been fair to Miss Eva and Nana Rose, to Mutti or Papa or that nice lady, Hilda. And it had never been fair to her.

She stared out the window as the train began its slow, ponderous start, straining away from the station and toward the bleak future that awaited her. She tried not to cry, to catch her tears before anyone could notice. But the tears wouldn't stop.

It didn't matter, though. She didn't really need to hide her tears. Because no one was watching out to make sure she didn't have a reason to cry. Not anymore.

M
ISS
Eva talked in her sleep, but in German, so Anna didn't know exactly what she was saying. But she heard the word
Weihnachtsbaum.
Christmas tree, she now knew. And several times the word “Ennis.”

This train wasn't as crowded as the last one, and most everyone else was asleep. Only Anna, the conductor, and a lady holding a fussy baby were awake.

She looked over at Miss Eva, who muttered softly between even softer snores. Nana Rose used to talk Italian sometimes. Not a lot. But Anna knew
mangia
meant let's eat. And there'd been this painted sign in Nana Rose's kitchen that Anna's mother had given her for Mother's Day long before she'd grown up and turned so selfish. It said
una mamma italiana è una benedizione di dio.
Nana Rose explained that it meant an Italian mother is a blessing from God.

It had hung above the stove. But Anna didn't know what had happened to it, or to any of Nana Rose's stuff. Her mother had moved into the house with her for two months until the house sold. She could have kept the house. They could have lived there and Anna could have stayed at her old school. But her mother had plans for that money, and plans with her new boyfriend, Eddie. They were moving to Dallas, buying a condo, her mother said. And Anna was just in the way. That's when her mother had decided to send her to her father. And now here she was, almost to Ennis.

She stared at the dark countryside speeding past her like she was the one standing still while the world raced on without her. It was scary—the fences, the electric poles, the distant points of light that said somebody lived out there, somebody Anna would never know. All of them whizzing by then disappearing, like they'd never existed at all.

She must have dozed off, because she awoke with a start. Just the tiniest change in the movement of the train, the first step in the slowing-down process, but it started her heart racing, and under her shirt she began to sweat.

Her father was just ahead. How would she recognize him? And what if he didn't want to keep her? What if he had other children he loved better than her? What if he had told her mother not to send her, but she did anyway?

Anna's worried gaze veered over to Miss Eva, asleep with her mouth a little bit open, and breathing in the heavy, hard-to-catch-your-breath way Nana Rose used to do sometimes.

Miss Eva was so happy to get back to Ennis. But what if she was confused? She grew up in Germany, not America. What if the Ennis she remembered was in Germany? After all, there was Paris, France, and Paris, Texas. And Nana Rose said there was Barcelona, Spain, and Barcelona in Sicily. What if Miss Eva was going to the wrong Ennis and her brother, Karl, wasn't there?

Anna swallowed hard and blinked back tears, knowing they wouldn't help her now. She had to be ready for anything, she realized. If her father didn't want her, she would go with Miss Eva to her brother Karl's house. Maybe he would need help taking care of his sister.

And if Miss Eva was confused and this
was
the wrong Ennis, then . . . then they would just go back to Miss Eva's house in Arkansas and she would stay with Miss Eva and they would take care of each other. Just like she and Nana Rose had always done.

The train began to slow, but that only increased the thud of Anna's heart against her ribs. The conductor's amplified voice announced Ennis and points west. Lights began to go on above the seats of those who were disembarking at Ennis. But Anna didn't turn on her light or nudge Miss Eva awake. Disembarking was a new word for her, one she'd learned on this trip. You disembarked from trains and planes and buses and ships. But she was also disembarking from her old life. The last time she'd disembarked from her old life with her mother, she'd at least known where she was going. She'd already loved Nana Rose, and she wanted to live with her. But this time she was disembarking into a life she didn't know anything about.

In the row behind them a little girl began to cry. “Shh, shh,” her mother murmured. “It's all right, my baby. You'll be home all snug in your own bed in just a little while.”

Anna frowned. That little girl didn't know how lucky she was.

She pushed herself upright in her seat, resentful of the effort it took. She nudged Miss Eva once, then again when she didn't immediately wake up. Why did she have to take care of everybody? How come nobody ever took good care of her like the mom behind her was doing for her crybaby little girl?

As quickly as her resentment flared, it was doused by guilt. Nana Rose had always taken good care of her. It wasn't her grandmother's fault that she'd gotten old and confused and sick. And then she'd died.

Anna swallowed against the choking lump that filled her throat.
I love you, Nana Rose.
Silently she mouthed the words, hoping Nana Rose would hear them from up in heaven. She should have told Nana Rose she loved her more often.

“We are here?” Miss Eva's voice sounded rusty and tired.

“Almost.” Anna bent down, feeling for her shoes, then focused on straightening her socks and pulling her shoes on. Beyond the window the world slowed. She saw a car-rental store, and two gas stations, before they began the groaning braking into a train yard.

“Ennis,” Miss Eva whispered with such reverence Anna turned to her. More and more Anna was worried that this might be the wrong Ennis for Miss Eva. And if it was, what would happen then?

That big lump clogged up her throat again, so hard she felt like it would only go away if she could cry. But she couldn't cry. Not yet.

They both sat in silence as the train rumbled slower. Green and red Christmas lights draped over the windows of a building across the way. The old-timey train depot was also lit with white drippy lights along the eaves, and red-lit wreaths in front of each window. A faded, plastic Santa Claus lit up from the inside stood guard at the corner of the platform. Anna stared at it as it glided by.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten,”
Miss Eva whispered. And when Anna looked over at her, she saw tears trickling down the old woman's cheeks. “We are here,
Liebchen
,” she added, reaching out to cover Anna's hand with her cold, bony palm. Her eyes remained riveted on the window, though, until she began to cough.

Anna reached into her pocket. “Here's a tissue. Are you okay?”

“
Ja
. Is nothing.” She coughed again.

Her hard, racking cough didn't sound like nothing to Anna. But she was just a kid. She grimaced at her reflection in the window, a transparent, almost invisible version of herself. She was just a kid, and what she thought or wanted—or didn't want—didn't matter to grown-ups. Somebody should be looking out for Miss Eva, just like someone was supposed to be looking out for her. But nobody was looking out for either of them.

With a resolute sigh she slid her arms into her jacket. “Let's get your coat on, Miss Eva. It's cold out there.”

The old woman nodded and smiled up at her. “Now is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.”

“Oh, yeah. We talked about that in science class when we studied the solar system. The shortest day and the longest night.”

“
Und
now starts the path to spring and summer.”

“But first Christmas.” Anna had to force her smile, though. Kids were supposed to get all excited about Christmas, and usually she was. Right now, though, she was about to meet the man her mom said was her father. Her whole life was about to change forever. Christmas didn't matter at all compared to that.

T
OM
was losing his mind. When Anna hadn't arrived on the train yesterday, for one brief moment he'd felt like a prisoner given an unexpected reprieve. She wasn't coming! His life was not going to hell in a handbasket. But that brief hope had dissolved in a tidal wave of panic. Where was Anna? Where was she!

Carrie's indifferent reaction to his call had only increased his fear. The woman didn't care. She couldn't be bothered to find out what had happened to her own missing child.

Kind of like he'd been ten years ago. But not anymore. Only when the stationmaster had looked up from the phone, shooting Tom a thumbs-up, had his pulse begun to ease.

“So they missed their last connection and they're waiting for the next train,” the man had said into the phone. “You're sure it's her?

“Right, right,” the man continued as Tom slumped in relief. “Okay, then. Thanks.” He'd grinned at Tom as he hung up the phone. “It's all right. They missed their connection but they're waiting for the seven fifteen. It's scheduled to arrive here at one thirty this morning.”

Tom had been so relieved by the news it wasn't until he'd been halfway home that he'd paused.
They'd
missed the connection? Who the hell was
they
?

Now, nearly twelve hours later, he stood outside on the windswept platform, huddled into his coat as the train eased down the track. It was two a.m., and he was exhausted and cold as a corpse even though his heart was pounding overtime.
Please let her be on this train.

He hunched his shoulders against the cold. What must it be like to have Carrie for a mother, someone who could decide one day she was tired of raising a kid and just ship you off like damaged goods to a father you didn't even know? Yeah, the kid had obviously had a rough time of it. And now she was getting stuck with
him
for a father.

He flashed on his parents and his older sister. When it came to a good start in life, he'd been handed everything the world had to offer. And yet look how he'd turned out. A liar. A selfish bastard who for ten years had lived his life like he didn't even have a kid.

Tomorrow he would have to face his family and his girlfriend. But even worse, tonight he had to face his daughter.

A
NNA
was dragging her feet. Zipping up her coat. Fiddling with her hair and her knit cap. Pulling on her mittens, then removing them so she could unzip her backpack to make sure the gift from Nana Rose hadn't been crushed. Then putting her mittens on again, only to remove them to make sure Miss Eva's beret was pulled down nice and snug.

“Do you have your muffler?” Anna asked when she could think of no other delaying tactics. “I don't see it.”

“Around my neck. See?” Miss Eva pulled the collar of her coat down to show her.

“Oh.” Anna unwound her own muffler and with great care rewound it, folding the ends over and smoothing the fringe across her chest.

“Hurry, child. Karl will be anxious to see me.”

“So he knows you're coming. Right?” Anna added hopefully.

But Miss Eva turned without answering and started down the aisle.
“Kommen Sie,”
she said, then abruptly halted and began to cough. When she finally straightened up she looked more exhausted than ever. “No more trains for me.”

For a long moment Anna couldn't move. She couldn't make her legs work to follow Miss Eva. Her father might be out there. Or he might not. And she didn't know which possibility she feared more.

What if she just stayed on the train and kept going? Would they kick her off when they discovered she didn't have a ticket and leave her stranded in some strange town? Her mouth turned down in a frown. That wouldn't be any different from right now. She was getting off this train in a strange town to meet some strange man.