Free Sentimental Journey by Janet Dailey

Christmas. Is that all right?"
    "Will it make smoke like that one?" the boy pointed.
    "Yes, it will make smoke," the father agreed.
    "That's okay, then. Santa can bring me that." The boy accepted the compromise offer.
    A smile tugged at the corners of Jessica's mouth. "I'll bet every child that sees this wants a train for Christmas." She glanced up at Brodie through the sweep of her lashes, idly curious. "Did Santa ever bring you a train for Christmas, one that blows smoke?"
    "No, I never did get a train." He shook his head briefly, his black hair gleaming. "But there were a lot of Christmases that Santa didn't make it to our house. I'm not sure whether it was because we were too poor or because I was a bad boy."
    Rather than comment on his background, Jessica chose a facetious remark. "Santa always knows who's been good or bad."
    "He certainly knows that I didn't make my father's life any easier." His hands were braced on the railing that cordoned off the public from the display. "My father used to work for the railroad."
    "He did?" Jessica was glad he had changed the subject. The memory of her brother saying that Brodie was no good was still very clear in her mind.
    "Yes. He was hurt in a derailment when I was about five and ended up partially disabled. He never was able to get enough part-time work to combine with his pension to give us enough to live on, and he was too damned proud to go on welfare, so we went without a lot of things."
    "What was your father like?" She tried to visualize an older version of Brodie, but had difficulty picturing a disabled man when Brodie was so vital and robust.
    "Stubborn, proud. The one thing he couldn't tolerate was failure. In the end, he was a broken man." His gaze narrowed on the miniature tracks of the display. "He couldn't work at the job he loved—the railroad. His wife had run out on him. His son brought him pain instead of hope."
    "I'm sorry, Brodie." This time Jessica wasn't offering empty words. "He would have been proud of you today."
    "Yes." Brodie straightened from the rail, his action indicating that he was ready to leave the model-train display. "But it didn't work out that way."
    She marveled that he could accept it so calmly, but he'd had more time to adjust to it. He'd had to put the remorse behind him and carry on with his life, while she was just tasting the bitter pangs of disappointment on his behalf for the first time.
    They wandered outside again, onto the platform. The locomotive of the famed Chattanooga Choo-Choo waited on Track 29 of the 1905 Terminal Station. A collection of dining cars and sleeping-parlor cars occupied more mock tracks within the center.
    "Have you ever eaten in one of the dining cars?" Brodie asked when Jessica slowed her steps for a closer look at one.
    "No." She smiled wryly. "Isn't that typical? You never take advantage of attractions in your own hometown."
    "True," he agreed.
    "My intentions have been good, but I've never been able to get reservations on the night I wanted to go." She shrugged at the thwarted opportunities.
    "We'll both have to correct this oversight, since I've never dined there, either. I'll make reservations to dine here some evening when I'm in town."
    He was taking her acceptance for granted, something Jessica couldn't allow. "As long as I happen to be free the same evening."
    "Of course," he said with a look that expressed confidence that she would be available.
    They continued to stroll along the platform. As they approached a group of tourists occupying much of the platform, Brodie's hand moved to a spot between Jessica's shoulders to guide her through the throng. The vaguely possessive touch sent quivers down her spine, especially when his hand slid downward to the back of her waist.
    "I understand the parlor cars are actually rented out. Couples can spend the night in them," Brodie commented.
    "That's true. I've seen pictures of the interior. They're beautiful—Victorian furniture, brass beds." Jessica told