The Christmas Train Read Free Page A

ticket to her father’s house in the company of this pleasantly smiling old woman.
    She took three steps forward. For now that would have to be enough.
    E VA trudged down the center aisle of the general-seating car, bracing herself with one hand on the seat backs. A two-story train car. She’d never heard of such a thing. She would rather have stayed on the lower level, but the child—what was her name again? Eva paused, leaning heavily on the seat back beside her, and struggled to remember. She’d noticed lately that thinking and performing a physical task were not particularly compatible.
    â€œC’mon. C’mon,” she heard someone behind them mutter.
    She was blocking someone’s way. With a grimace she forced herself a few steps farther, then abruptly sat in an open aisle seat. She was out of breath. That, too, was happening more often, this sudden shortness of breath followed by a smothering blanket of fatigue, a bone-deep weariness she couldn’t seem to dispel.
    â€œCan I have the seat by the window, Miss Eva?”
    Eva startled at the child’s query. Before she could reply the girl squeezed past her, tucked her backpack under the forward seat, then knelt on the seat and cleared a spot on the foggy window.
    Anna, the girl’s name came to her. Anna. They would be traveling together to . . . to where?
    Home. Home to Ennis.
    As she took several deep breaths it all came back to her. She’d seen the article in the Sunday paper about the Christmas Festival of Lights in Ennis, and it had lifted her spirits as nothing had since her Paul had died. Why hadn’t she thought to go home before this? But she was going now. Ever since that terrible attack in New York she’d been so afraid. Not war. Not again!
    But she’d known war was inevitable. Dictators could not be allowed to force their evil on the rest of the world. This she knew. But oh, how the thought of war paralyzed her. The soldiers. The bombs. And most of all, the awful, unrelenting terror. It hung over everything—every move you made, every word you said. Who to trust? Who to fear? No matter how far she’d run or how carefully she’d hidden herself, here was war pounding at her door again.
    In her chest her heart sped up, and panic rose, threatening to choke her—
    â€œHow long until we leave?”
    With a start Eva looked at the little girl, who had unwound her muffler and was tugging off her stocking cap. Anna. How pretty she was. “Soon, child. As soon as all these people find their seats.”
    The girl studied her with unblinking eyes. She was all pink cheeks, blue eyes, and straight blond hair. Aryan.
    Eva shivered and forced herself to straighten in her seat. Being fair and pretty was no defense against the madness of the world. Only quick wits and luck helped you when the world was falling apart.
    â€œAre you going to take off your coat?”
    Again Eva flinched. “Soon. Soon.” When she offered no more, the child turned away, busy folding her muffler. Apparently displeased with its bulk, she shook it out and began again, this time neatly rolling it up like a roll of bath tissue.
    Eva closed her eyes. She was so tired. But she didn’t dare sleep. Too many people, and then there was the threat of war. Always war. Would it never be over?
    She forced her eyes open. At least this train was clean. And so far as she could tell, all its windows still had their glass panes. She scanned the railcar front to back. Yes, it was clean and there were enough seats for everyone. No one standing, hanging on to the straps. No one huddled over their bags in the aisle.
    Then the car shuddered, a ricochet of movement that convulsed the full length of the train from engine to caboose. She remembered that shudder, that feeling of being inside a living thing transporting you maybe to freedom, maybe not. It shuddered again, then jerked forward, and all at once they were under