Page 99 of Leaving the Station
When I’m back upstairs, the observation car is fuller than I’ve ever seen it. I can’t blame anyone for wanting to soak in the last bits of the ride, but I’m not feeling that way. I’ve spent this whole trip staring out the window, and now’s not the time for that.
Because Oakley’s still on the train.
She didn’t get off near Ritzville. It could just be because the train doesn’t stop there, or that her parents are in Seattle for some reason, or any number of things she never told me. But still.
I have a chance.
After a few minutes of brainstorming without getting anywhere, I decide to take Virginia up on her offer of knocking on her bedroom door at any time. I don’t have to do this alone, and Virginia knows more about this train route than I ever will.
I haven’t been in the sleeper car since yesterday, when I was there with Oakley. I push the button that allows me to step between cars, then hurry over to Virginia’s room, wishing with all my might that I won’t run into Oakley.
“Virginia?” I ask. “You in there?”
“Just a sec!” she shouts from the other side.
She opens the door wearing a bathrobe and slippers, her hair in rollers.
“Did I wake you?”
“No no,” she tells me. “I don’t sleep. Shall we go back to the observation car?”
We do, and once we’ve sunk into our seats, she adjusts her bathrobe. “So, what can I do you for?”
“I have an idea,” I say. “But I need your help.”
She smiles. “Let’s hear it.”
I tell her about Oakley wanting to see Europe and about Leavenworth and the fact that it’s my last chance to make things right with her.
“You want me to help you delay the train for everyone on Thanksgiving Day?” she asks. “So that you can run around a fake Bavarian city with a girl you just met?”
“Um... yes?”
She grins. “Count me in. It’s not like we were going to arrive in Seattle on time anyway.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not?” She says it like I asked her to bring me a cup of coffee, not find a way to stall a cross-country train. “Do you have any ideas for how to do it?”
“Well, no.” I lace my fingers together. “I thought maybe... you might have some.”
She shakes her head. “Your generation is so lazy, with your phones and medias and this and thats. Back in my day when we wanted to stop a train, we did it ourselves.”
I raise my eyebrows but don’t say anything.
Finally, she sighs. “Okay, but just this once.” She leans forward and grins conspiratorially. “I was thinking I could fake a medical emergency.”
“You’d do that?”
“Sure, I dabbled in acting back when I was a young woman. How hard could it be? A little chest clutching and moaning and they’ll stop the train for sure.”
We discuss the logistics of the plan, including where exactly Virginia should pretend to have her emergency for maximum train-stopping time.
“I can only guarantee you forty-five minutes or so,” she says.“Anything beyond that and the conductor will be forced to do a medical evacuation, and I’m not getting in an ambulance this morning.”
“That’s all I need,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she says. “This still has to work.”
