The Christmas Train (25 page)

She left. Tom sat there, staring after her, his hand in his pocket, idly fingering the ring. chapter thirty

The dining car was full of hungry passengers for breakfast, and Roxanne watched worriedly as the supplies in the kitchen dwindled rapidly. The food in the lounge car had been exhausted the night before and tempers were already starting to flare, keeping her busy as she put out each fire using all the good humor and diplomacy she could muster. There were a number of infants on board, and as diapers and milk started running low too, their cries, which ran the length and breadth of the train, put everyone further on edge.

Father Kelly finally found the courage to hold a prayer service in the lounge car, and it was well attended by all faiths and denominations, even a few agnostics who were looking for solace. The priest was a little rusty and stumbled at times, but his effort was sincere and people came up to him afterward and thanked him for lifting their spirits.

He confided to Agnes Joe, who’d helped him during the service, that it was the best he’d felt in years, and it actually made him reconsider his retirement.

When Higgins wasn’t consulting with the train crew on how best to conserve fuel and power, he went out into the storm and personally checked under the cars for evidence of freezing pipes. When he came back in it was lunchtime, and over several cups of coffee he regaled the dining-car patrons with stories of the Wild West starring Jesse and Frank James, Billy the Kid, and other desperadoes. Not only the children but adults listened to these tales with wide-eyed awe. He also told the story of legendary Pullman porter John Blair, who practically single-handedly saved an entire trainload of passengers caught in a forest fire in Minnesota in the late 1800s. “They were in pretty desperate circumstances,” said Higgins, “because there’s nothing worse than fire. You put fire up against snow”—he motioned out the window—“and I’ll take snow every time. May not seem like it, but we’re pretty lucky on that score.”

Roxanne smiled in appreciation of the point Higgins was making and poured him another cup of coffee.

Agnes Joe had been staring out the window of the dining car for quite some time. When Roxanne asked her what she was looking at, the woman pointed at something that Roxanne had to squint to see through the falling snow.

“It’s Christmas Eve, you know,” said Agnes Joe.

Roxanne nodded. “You’re right, honey, and when you’re right, you’re right.”

A bit later Eleanor came into the car and joined Agnes Joe and Roxanne. They were looking out the window, and Eleanor followed their gaze. Two men, heavily clothed, were struggling to bring something covered in a tarp into the train.

“What’s going on?” asked Eleanor.

“You’ll see,” said Roxanne.

As the first man came back on board, hefting his end of the load, she saw that it was Barry, the sleeping-car attendant. The tarp had fallen off the object he was carrying, and Eleanor saw that it was a stunted pine tree that had been growing on one of the slopes. Most of the snow had been shaken off outside, but hard clumps still clung to its branches and the pine’s skinny trunk. As the second man climbed aboard, his hood fell away and she gasped, for it was Tom.

“Christmas deserves a Christmas tree,” he explained. “Actually, it was Agnes Joe’s idea.”

They set it up in the lounge car on a hastily fashioned base, and children came and decorated it with anything they wanted. After an hour’s time, the little pine was truly beautiful—or at the very least interesting—having been strung with everything from fake jewelry to bubblegum baseball cards hung with rubber bands to plastic action figures to a long strand of tinsel that a woman had brought with her for a family Christmas in Albuquerque. Several of the children made a big star from paper and glue, colored it a shiny silver, and hoisted it on top of the tree, which was an easy enough thing to do, since the tree was only about four feet high. Yet to the folks trapped on the Chief, it was a thing of breathtaking beauty, bubblegum cards, action figures and all.

Tom had sat with a hot cup of coffee and watched as the fabulous holiday tree overcame its modest origins.

“It’s beautiful.”

He looked up. Eleanor was gazing at the tree and then glancing at him.

He nervously fingered his coffee. “Well, takes people’s minds off things. And it’s nice to hear a kid laugh right now.”

“Mind if I sit down?”

He motioned to the empty seat.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” she said.

“Yeah, well, sometimes plans, if not people, change.”

“How have your plans changed?”

“I decided not to go. I decided to stick it out here. One for all and all for one.”

She sat back. “I have to say, I’m surprised. I didn’t think anything I could possibly say...” Her voice tapered off.

He finished for her: “Could get through my thick head?” He smiled weakly. “Look, Ellie, I just decided that it would be better to stay here and help. By the time I got to the ski resort, if I got to it, the storm would probably be over and the cavalry arrived.” He paused and then added, “And if not, well, then better to be here too.” Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then he abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ve got some things to take care of. Long overdue.”

A few minutes later Tom stopped in to tell Lelia his decision on marriage was a no. “I really like you and care about you, but I’m not going to marry you and have eight kids. I hope you understand.”

She didn’t look like she understood at all. Tears streamed down her face, and she clutched at his arm.

“Isn’t there anything I can say or do to change your mind? We seem so right for each other.”

He shook his head. “I don’t love you, Lelia. And I’m pretty sure if you think about it enough, you’re going to see that you don’t love me either.”

“It’s just that we’ve been together for so long.”

“Complacency doesn’t equal love.”

She sniffed into her handkerchief and said in a trembling voice, “I don’t know, maybe you’re right.”

At that moment Kristobal emerged from her bathroom and looked at them both.

“Kristobal?” Tom said, clearly surprised.

“Am I interrupting something?” the young man asked.

“No,” said Tom, as he shot a stern glance at snuffling Lelia, “but apparently I am.”

She looked at him innocently. “He’s been helping me through these trying times. And he gives a wonderful pedicure and back massage.”

“I’m sure he does.” He looked at Kristobal. “ Ciao.”

Tom left and walked down the hall more relieved than he’d been in a long time, now that Cuppy the Magic Beaver was no longer bearing down on him. In a way he felt sorry for Kristobal, but he was a big boy.

One positive if surprising event had occurred. All the items that had been stolen on the Chief—and many of the items that had been taken during the trip on the Capitol Limited—had been returned to their rightful owners. No one had seen anything, and no one could explain why the thief had experienced such a dramatic change of heart. Roxanne and Father Kelly simply put it down as a Christmas miracle.

After dinner, which was served with red and white garnishes in honor of the holiday, everyone was asked to gather in the lounge car. As people arrived, they were surprised to see that a mock stage of sorts had been set up at one end of the car. Max served as the master of ceremonies, whipping the crowd into a mass of expectation before pointing at the stage and calling out, “Do I hear something? Do I hear a special something coming?”

All attention was riveted on the stage when a puppet appeared there and a child screamed out excitedly, “It’s Cuppy the Magic Beaver!” And then another little boy called out, “And there’s Petey the Pickle!” And then Sassy Squirrel and Freddy the Futon joined their famous friends onstage, and the good times began.

Working the hand puppets from behind the stage were Lelia and Kristobal. Lelia always carried the puppet characters with her in case she ran into any children; she often gave them as gifts. She did all the voices perfectly, switching from a piece of furniture to a pickle to a woodland creature with the smoothness of a true professional.

During a break in the proceedings, Kristobal whispered to her, “I’ve never been more honored in my life.” They shared a kiss offstage while Sassy and Cuppy were bopping each other in the head onstage as all the children and even the adults roared with laughter.

Santa arrived precisely on schedule, played by burly Barry wearing a proper Santa suit, which was kept on the Chief for just such occasions. The role of Santa was so popular, in fact, that Amtrak employees routinely fought, gambled, bribed, and lobbied during the year to play the lead role each Christmas. Gifts were dutifully handed out by Santa’s elves, played by Tom, Eleanor, Max, and Misty. The passengers contributed the gifts from gift-wrapped presents they’d brought with them. Everyone participated with good grace and humor, and the children were happy and laughing, which relieved the adults’ tension immensely.

Father Kelly, again with Agnes Joe’s aid, led them all in prayer and a Christmas Mass of sorts. The minister who’d married Steve and Julie had been asked to participate, but he had refused and stayed in his compartment. Steve and Julie were not seen much. Apparently they were not allowing even an avalanche to put a damper on their honeymoon, and who could blame them.

The boys’ choir sang Christmas carols with Roxanne, and everyone joined them, giving it their best. On this occasion, it seemed that everyone’s voice possessed a sweet melody. As the night deepened and little mouths started yawning with increasing frequency, folks said their goodnights and strangers slapped each other on the back, declaring it a very fine Christmas Eve. Then they went off to sleep.

Eleanor and Tom went with Roxanne to settle the choir down. They were about to leave when one of the boys called out to her.

She sat next to the little boy, whose name was Oliver.

“What’s up?” asked Roxanne, as Tom and Eleanor stood next to her.

Oliver’s eyes seemed as big as his whole body. He had a voice that could charm and delight the meanest soul on the planet, and he was usually a happy-go-lucky sort, but now he looked worried.

“Patrick said there’s no God.”

Roxanne gasped. “What? Patrick, you get yourself over here, boy.”

Patrick came up in his striped pajamas and glasses. He was one of the older boys, tall and lean, with a very confident manner. He read constantly and was gifted academically.

Roxanne towered over him and put her hands on her substantial hips. “Explain yourself. Why’d you tell him that?”

All the other boys poked their heads over their seats to watch and listen. Tom and Eleanor exchanged glances.

“It’s a simple process of elimination, an evolutionary cycle, really.” He adjusted his glasses, as though a very youthful professor addressing his class.

“Come again?”

“Well, first there was the Tooth Fairy. You lose a tooth, you put it under your pillow, and the next morning the tooth is gone and there’s money in its place. Most kids discover that’s a myth when they’re five or so, although I of course learned it much earlier.”

“You’re ten now, Patrick,” said his brother Tony, “and you still put your teeth under the pillow.”

“That’s because I want the money, Tony, not because I still believe.” Patrick turned back to Roxanne. “And then you had the Easter Bunny, another falsehood that’s discovered perhaps around age seven. Next up is Santa Claus. That fellow who played him tonight, for example: Wasn’t that one of the train—”

Roxanne eyed the younger children, who looked ready to cry at what Patrick was about to say. “Let’s move on, Patrick,” she interrupted, “and let’s get right to God.”

“Very well. If there was a god of good, then why would he let something like this happen? We’re supposed to be home right now, spending Christmas with our families. Instead, here we are in the middle of a snowstorm running low on fuel and food. How could a god, if he existed, allow such a thing?”

Despite his confident presentation, Roxanne sensed that Patrick was as scared as the rest of them, and was really hoping she’d explain why there was a god rather than agree with him there wasn’t .

She sat Patrick down next to her and cradled Oliver on her lap. “Now, the problem with your reasoning is that you’re assuming our being stuck here is a bad thing.”

Patrick adjusted his glasses. “Well, isn’t it?”

“Not wholly, no. Let’s consider it. Let’s look at the facts. What happened tonight?”

“The snow fell harder, and the kitchen ran out of food.”

“Besides that.”

Oliver spoke up: “We celebrated Christmas Eve and opened presents. That’s a good thing.”

“We could have done that with our own families,” countered Patrick.

“True,” said Roxanne, “but would your families be scared and hungry, and would they be in a strange place with people they don’t know?”

The boy thought about this. “Well, no.”

“But the passengers on this train are, right? They really don’t want to be here because this isn’t their home, right, they want to be with loved ones, family?”