In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) Read Free Page B

unexpected guest. With a quick appraisal, he noted her tousled, windblown appearance and breathless manner, as if she’d run a long distance to make it to the train on time. Two spots of red colored high cheekbones belonging to a flawless face—what he could see of it—and she gripped the luggage handles in tight, gloved fists. A real doll, chinalike in appearance. But a hint of panic made her wide eyes even bigger, her full lips drawn and tense, and he wondered if she might lash out at him with her bags if he were to take a step closer.
     
    He decided not to take the risk.
     
    “The bends in the track can knock you off your feet. I’d advise you take a seat, Miss…?”
     
    Ignoring his hint to learn her name, she looked around, her manner distantly assured, as if she had every right to be there and he was the intruder. Her brow wrinkled in confusion when she saw the small drawing room, containing dual leather benches with high backs, the length of twin settees. She moved to one and set her bags down with a muffled thump. Without a word, she sank to the padded seat nearest the dual windows and pulled away her scarf.
     
    Curious about his new cabinmate, he took the seat opposite, farthest from where she sat and closest to the door. If not for the fact that she gave him directions earlier, he might think her mute. Minute after taut minute stretched in silence.
     
    “Something of a coincidence, bumping into you like this.” He tried to initiate conversation, hoping it wouldn’t crackle with tension like the quiet between them did.
     
    “Yes.” Her expression guarded, she afforded him the barest glance and pulled the fingers of each glove, one by one, removing the peeling leather. They, like the rest of her outerwear, appeared years old. With the nation in crisis, few had the luxury of buying a new winter coat, except for Roland, who could buy the train on which they sat if he wished, paid for with the dirty simoleons earned in others’ blood.
     
    He grimaced at the thought.
     
    Her gaze remained fixed to the spotted window and the trees and buildings that hurried past in a dark, watercolor blur.
     
    “Two strangers meeting twice in one day in the oddest of circumstances and on opposite sides of town—that’s one for the books, isn’t it? And now, here we are, sharing a car on the same train.” He smiled. She didn’t return the favor, behaving in a way similar to what she’d done at the house. Was it just him, or did all men provoke this sort of reaction?
     
    She pulled a handkerchief from her handbag, put it to her nose, and sniffled. She didn’t appear to be crying; her eyes were dry.
     
    “Did you catch a chill?”
     
    She shrugged one shoulder and looked back through the window.
     
    “It’s nasty weather to be out. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this blustery cold and rain. I suppose we should be thankful it didn’t rain today.”
     
    She gave him the barest inclination of her head in agreement.
     
    “Are you visiting family in Connecticut?”
     
    Her eyes cut to him, shocked, cautious. “Yes. Family.” She sniffled again into her handkerchief. “Please, if you don’t mind, I believe I have caught a chill. I really don’t feel up to small talk.”
     
    “I can ask the steward to fetch you a hot toddy—”
     
    “No.” He barely got the suggestion out before she cut him off. “Thank you.” Her words tried to be polite. She fidgeted in a clear attempt to get comfortable in her seat. “I’m fine.”
     
    Observing her clear distress, Roland doubted that but didn’t insist. He grew silent and wished now he’d gotten that newspaper. Spoiled when it came to a social life, as the minutes ticked by with the clacking of train wheels marking each second, he felt restless. His aloof cabinmate had closed her eyes. Judging by the anxious frown wrinkling the pale skin between her eyebrows, he didn’t think she was sleeping.
     
    The door to the car swung open, and