Read The Christmas Train for Free Online Page B

laughed. “I guess it’ll sound silly, but after my grandfather came back from World War Two, my grandmother met him in New York City. They’d been engaged before the war started but postponed their wedding because Gramps volunteered.”
    “You’d think they’d want to tie the knot before he left,” Tom said.
    Julie shook her head. “No, that’s exactly why they didn’t. Gramps refused to leave her a widow. He said that if he made it through the war, then it was God’s way of telling them they were meant to be together.”
    “That’s really nice.”
    “Well, he made it back of course, and Grandma, she’d been waiting four long years, so she went up to New York City with plans to get married up there, but so many other soldiers were doing the same thing that it would have taken them weeks. So they paid a preacher to get on the train with them, and once they crossed into Virginia, they were married.”
    “And I assume things worked out?”
    “Fifty-five years of marriage together. They died within a week of each other two years ago.”
    “Well, I wish you both the same,” Tom offered.
    “Do you really think complete strangers will come to our wedding?” asked the girl.
    Tom was just a guy—with a guy’s dubious perspective on weddings—but still he understood how important it was for the bride. By comparison, the groom had it easy. He simply had to show up reasonably sober, say “I do,” kiss the bride while the old ladies in the crowd tittered, and not pass out until after the wedding night official duties were completed and the gift money counted.
    Tom said, “Not to worry. There’s something about a train that opens people up. And besides, you do have a captive audience.”
    He wished them well again and headed for Tyrone in the lounge-car café, but his mind was straying once more toward Eleanor. After she walked out on him in Tel Aviv, he was hurt, angry, and confused, all those things that made one completely incapable of doing anything rationally. By the time he’d gotten his head screwed on right, so much time had passed that he’d ended up not doing anything to contact her. Then the years really got away, and he felt any attempt to get in touch would be swiftly and painfully rebuked. For all he knew, she’d already married someone else.
    He went through the dining-room car and nodded to the attendants there. All of them wore some holiday article of clothing. They seemed to be working hard to get dinner together, so he decided not to hit them up with a lot of questions. He ventured on to the lounge car. There a few people were sitting around watching the TV; others were idly gazing outside at the passing countryside. He made his way down the spiral staircase and found Tyrone, the lounge-car attendant.
    The space he worked in was small, but neatly organized with refrigerated cabinets against the walls loaded with cold sandwiches, ice cream, and assorted cold goodies. There were also bins with other foods, chips and stuff, and hot and cold drinks. There were also cafeteria-tray rails to slide your purchases down. At the end of the hall was a door marked as the entrance to the smoking lounge.
    Tyrone was about thirty, Tom’s height, and looked like Elvis, only he was black. At first Tom thought the man might be wearing a hairpiece but, upon closer inspection, confirmed it was all his own. The man was truly the King, in splendid ebony. Tom liked the effect a lot.
    “I’ll be open in about twenty minutes, sir,” said Tyrone. “My delivery was in late. I’m usually up and running by now. I’ll make an announcement on the PA.”
    “No problem, Tyrone. Regina told me to come down here if I needed anything.”
    Tyrone looked Tom over with interest as he methodically laid out his wares. “Hey, you the writer guy Regina told me about?”
    “I’m the writer guy, yes.”
    “Cool. What do you want to know?”
    “For starters, whether you’re an Elvis fan.”
    He laughed. “It was the hair,