suggested.
"I was a wrestling champ back in school," he boasted with a playful wink.
"Were you really?" I asked, impressed.
"Sure. I'm a preacher's son, remember? I wouldn't lie."
"Be careful, anyway," I counseled.
He looked deep into my eyes. Without meaning to, I leaned in closer, irresistibly drawn to his energy and warmth. I think he must have moved toward me, as well, because we somehow came to be standing very close to each other -- he still holding my hands, I looking up at him.
"I don't know exactly where you live, Jane," Thad said as steam from the newly arrived train billowed around us. "I want to write to you."
I want to write to you. Six simple words. But there was an unspoken multitude of words that could spring from them.
On a day when I felt I'd lost so much, suddenly I had a brief glimpse of something being gained.
Spirit Vale was so small that any letter addressed to me there would arrive at my house, and I told him so. "Would you really write?" I asked hopefully.
"I'd like to," he replied. "I've enjoyed talking to you, and it would be good to keep it up, even if it's only through letters."
"That would be great," I said.
"You'd write back, wouldn't you?" he checked.
"Of course I would. With Mimi gone I'll really need someone to talk with, and I also find it easy and interesting talking to you."
We stood there a moment, smiling at each other like two fools. For all our talk of talking, we were romantically speechless.
The train broke the spell by sounding a warning blast. "All aboard for Albany and connecting points on the northwest corridor," a conductor yelled.
"You'd better go," Thad said.
"I suppose so." It was so hard to leave.
We began walking together toward the train. "How did your interview with Tesla go?" he asked.
"Wonderful. It should be a great article," I told him, climbing up the metal stairs to the small platform between train cars. "And the most amazing thing happened -- he remembered me from all the way back in 1898! Can you believe it? I was only four at the time."
The train's engine chugged and a white mist of smoke rose up around me. "Better take your seat, miss," a conductor advised.
Thad jumped nimbly onto the train, grabbing hold of the railing between the cars just as the train moved forward.
I gasped -- but with a touch of delight at his daring. "You'd better get down," I cautioned.
"I have a few minutes before it leaves the station," he said.
The train slowly chugged, blowing its whistle as it inched up the tracks.
"Wait! Did you say you were only four in 1898?" he asked.
I nodded. "Why?"
"I just assumed you were older."
The train continued moving forward, slowly picking up speed. Thad leaped easily to the ground.
I wasn't prepared for how wrenching his jump away from me would be. I'd felt so safe with him. Now it was as though he'd jumped out of my life altogether. I was abruptly on my own again.
He waved, but an uneasy expression played on his face, and mine probably mirrored it.
"Don't forget to write," I called back to him, waving as the train carried me off.
He waved back but did not say anything.
A conductor came to the doorway. "You must take your seat, miss. It's not safe to stand here."
With a last wave to Thad, I stepped inside. I slumped into the seat, despondent. Tears once again wet my eyes.
The grim reality of my dismal situation -- which had momentarily been cushioned by my delight at Thad's arrival -- surged back on me with full force. I was on my way to a certainly angry mother and sisters who would probably be bewildered and feel caught in the middle. Would they all blame me for letting Mimi run off as she had? How could I face it all without her?
And now I worried that the one bright spot I had to look forward to -- letters from Thad -- would not arrive. The last three minutes of our time together had, I feared, completely changed his view of me. In a second, he had gone from seeing me as his contemporary to viewing me as a
"I was a wrestling champ back in school," he boasted with a playful wink.
"Were you really?" I asked, impressed.
"Sure. I'm a preacher's son, remember? I wouldn't lie."
"Be careful, anyway," I counseled.
He looked deep into my eyes. Without meaning to, I leaned in closer, irresistibly drawn to his energy and warmth. I think he must have moved toward me, as well, because we somehow came to be standing very close to each other -- he still holding my hands, I looking up at him.
"I don't know exactly where you live, Jane," Thad said as steam from the newly arrived train billowed around us. "I want to write to you."
I want to write to you. Six simple words. But there was an unspoken multitude of words that could spring from them.
On a day when I felt I'd lost so much, suddenly I had a brief glimpse of something being gained.
Spirit Vale was so small that any letter addressed to me there would arrive at my house, and I told him so. "Would you really write?" I asked hopefully.
"I'd like to," he replied. "I've enjoyed talking to you, and it would be good to keep it up, even if it's only through letters."
"That would be great," I said.
"You'd write back, wouldn't you?" he checked.
"Of course I would. With Mimi gone I'll really need someone to talk with, and I also find it easy and interesting talking to you."
We stood there a moment, smiling at each other like two fools. For all our talk of talking, we were romantically speechless.
The train broke the spell by sounding a warning blast. "All aboard for Albany and connecting points on the northwest corridor," a conductor yelled.
"You'd better go," Thad said.
"I suppose so." It was so hard to leave.
We began walking together toward the train. "How did your interview with Tesla go?" he asked.
"Wonderful. It should be a great article," I told him, climbing up the metal stairs to the small platform between train cars. "And the most amazing thing happened -- he remembered me from all the way back in 1898! Can you believe it? I was only four at the time."
The train's engine chugged and a white mist of smoke rose up around me. "Better take your seat, miss," a conductor advised.
Thad jumped nimbly onto the train, grabbing hold of the railing between the cars just as the train moved forward.
I gasped -- but with a touch of delight at his daring. "You'd better get down," I cautioned.
"I have a few minutes before it leaves the station," he said.
The train slowly chugged, blowing its whistle as it inched up the tracks.
"Wait! Did you say you were only four in 1898?" he asked.
I nodded. "Why?"
"I just assumed you were older."
The train continued moving forward, slowly picking up speed. Thad leaped easily to the ground.
I wasn't prepared for how wrenching his jump away from me would be. I'd felt so safe with him. Now it was as though he'd jumped out of my life altogether. I was abruptly on my own again.
He waved, but an uneasy expression played on his face, and mine probably mirrored it.
"Don't forget to write," I called back to him, waving as the train carried me off.
He waved back but did not say anything.
A conductor came to the doorway. "You must take your seat, miss. It's not safe to stand here."
With a last wave to Thad, I stepped inside. I slumped into the seat, despondent. Tears once again wet my eyes.
The grim reality of my dismal situation -- which had momentarily been cushioned by my delight at Thad's arrival -- surged back on me with full force. I was on my way to a certainly angry mother and sisters who would probably be bewildered and feel caught in the middle. Would they all blame me for letting Mimi run off as she had? How could I face it all without her?
And now I worried that the one bright spot I had to look forward to -- letters from Thad -- would not arrive. The last three minutes of our time together had, I feared, completely changed his view of me. In a second, he had gone from seeing me as his contemporary to viewing me as a
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