Free The Christmas Train by Rexanne Becnel Page B

Rose had always done.
    The train began to slow, but that only increased the thud of Anna’s heart against her ribs. The conductor’s amplified voice announced Ennis and points west. Lights began to go on above the seats of those who were disembarking at Ennis. But Anna didn’t turn on her light or nudge Miss Eva awake. Disembarking was a new word for her, one she’d learned on this trip. You disembarked from trains and planes and buses and ships. But she was also disembarking from her old life. The last time she’d disembarked from her old life with her mother, she’d at least known where she was going. She’d already loved Nana Rose, and she wanted to live with her. But this time she was disembarking into a life she didn’t know anything about.
    In the row behind them a little girl began to cry. “Shh, shh,” her mother murmured. “It’s all right, my baby. You’ll be home all snug in your own bed in just a little while.”
    Anna frowned. That little girl didn’t know how lucky she was.
    She pushed herself upright in her seat, resentful of the effort it took. She nudged Miss Eva once, then again when she didn’t immediately wake up. Why did she have to take care of everybody? How come nobody ever took good care of her like the mom behind her was doing for her crybaby little girl?
    As quickly as her resentment flared, it was doused by guilt. Nana Rose had always taken good care of her. It wasn’t her grandmother’s fault that she’d gotten old and confused and sick. And then she’d died.
    Anna swallowed against the choking lump that filled her throat. I love you, Nana Rose. Silently she mouthed the words, hoping Nana Rose would hear them from up in heaven. She should have told Nana Rose she loved her more often.
    â€œWe are here?” Miss Eva’s voice sounded rusty and tired.
    â€œAlmost.” Anna bent down, feeling for her shoes, then focused on straightening her socks and pulling her shoes on. Beyond the window the world slowed. She saw a car-rental store, and two gas stations, before they began the groaning braking into a train yard.
    â€œEnnis,” Miss Eva whispered with such reverence Anna turned to her. More and more Anna was worried that this might be the wrong Ennis for Miss Eva. And if it was, what would happen then?
    That big lump clogged up her throat again, so hard she felt like it would only go away if she could cry. But she couldn’t cry. Not yet.
    They both sat in silence as the train rumbled slower. Green and red Christmas lights draped over the windows of a building across the way. The old-timey train depot was also lit with white drippy lights along the eaves, and red-lit wreaths in front of each window. A faded, plastic Santa Claus lit up from the inside stood guard at the corner of the platform. Anna stared at it as it glided by.
    â€œFröhliche Weihnachten,” Miss Eva whispered. And when Anna looked over at her, she saw tears trickling down the old woman’s cheeks. “We are here, Liebchen ,” she added, reaching out to cover Anna’s hand with her cold, bony palm. Her eyes remained riveted on the window, though, until she began to cough.
    Anna reached into her pocket. “Here’s a tissue. Are you okay?”
    â€œ Ja . Is nothing.” She coughed again.
    Her hard, racking cough didn’t sound like nothing to Anna. But she was just a kid. She grimaced at her reflection in the window, a transparent, almost invisible version of herself. She was just a kid, and what she thought or wanted—or didn’t want—didn’t matter to grown-ups. Somebody should be looking out for Miss Eva, just like someone was supposed to be looking out for her. But nobody was looking out for either of them.
    With a resolute sigh she slid her arms into her jacket. “Let’s get your coat on, Miss Eva. It’s cold out there.”
    The old woman nodded and smiled up at her.