Letters On A Train

I couldn’t believe it when I got the invite. They were retiring the passenger train that made the beautiful ride from Seattle to Los Angeles possible. Of course, I would take its last trip down the coast. This wasn’t just any train. This train was a part of my origin story. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this train and the stops it made on its journey. The same stops every time for the past 50 years. Seattle. Portland. Sacramento. Los Angeles. And back again. It was during one of those treks my grandparents met on The Coast Starlight.

I smiled to myself as I stared down at the photo of their wedding day. Trains and train travel were so much a part of their relationship that they got married right outside of the King Street Station in Seattle. I looked up the station as it was today. It hasn’t changed much in 50 years. 

I mean, sure, it’s been restored over the years, but whoever did it made certain it stayed true to its roots. Even the clock tower is the same with its clay tiles that turned purple from too much sun exposure. During the restoration, they were able to replace the tiles from the same age and the same manufacturer. The red brick that wrapped around the outside has always taken my breath away. 

But that’s not what made this building special to me. It’s the Compass Room inside. Named after the navigational star compass rose design laid out in hand-cut marble tiles on the floor at its center. 

That’s where my Grandma said she knew. Standing right in the center of that compass, she knew she wanted to be with my Pappy forever. As I stood in the same spot she did all those years ago, I let my emotions wash over me as the sun washed over me when I’d spend lazy afternoons laying in the hammock in their backyard as a child. My thoughts drifted to the love and passion of my grandparent’s story. The grief at the loss of them just a short time ago. The bittersweet sadness that this treasure of transportation will no longer hold the stories it has seen. 

Can you imagine the connections? The conversations it eavesdropped on. Moving people safely from one city to another. Those same people had to have faith that they would get to their final destination.  

I placed my hand over my heart as I took in the marble floor. Each point on the compass a possibility. 

“All aboard!” I heard from the train conductor just outside of the Compass Room bellow out down the length of the platform. I swiped the tears that were starting to fall as I stood lost in my own thoughts.  I pulled my gray coat around my waist tighter and adjusted the brown leather strap of my overnight bag ready to say goodbye to this train that’s meant so much to my family.  I was ready for whatever adventure awaited.  

I walked onto the train and the old-timey musty smell overwhelmed my senses. You know the smell. It’s like moldy books in old libraries with only hardcovers and no pictures. Add to that the smell of train fuel and the excitement of who I could meet in the dining car and my anticipation only grew. A nostalgic feeling for a similar more innocent time bloomed in my chest. A time when a 35-hour train trip was the only mode of transportation, and there was nothing else you could do with your time but what activities you brought along on the ride. Books, crafts, snacks, word puzzles, magazines. No electronic things or screens to rot my brain. 

With that thought, I shut off my phone, put it into my purse, and pulled out my journal. I wanted to remember this moment. To honor my grandparents on this trip. And I wanted to remember everything. I bent over to put my purse under my seat when I noticed a small tear in the maroon train car fabric by my foot. The cut was a jagged three inches at most. Something was sticking out of the tear. A piece of paper.  Actually, there were several pieces of paper. Oh my gosh. It’s a stack of letters! What in the world? 

I wrangled them out of the tear, creating a bigger one, but I didn’t care. I felt like I just found a pot of gold. The letters were tied together with twine. The outsides of the envelopes faded to a dull yellow. A color that could only come with the passing of time.

I looked around to see if this was some kind of setup or prank. If there was some kind of hidden camera, and someone was about to burst up from behind the seat and scream “Gotcha!” 

I held my breath. But nothing like that happened. What do you do when you find something like this? Should I read them? I mean, they are old, the date stamp on all of them spanned over one year about 30 years ago. It appeared the letters went back and forth between the same two people: Lance Goldberg and Francesca Dino. Based on the addresses, Lance lived in Los Angeles and Francesca lived in Seattle.  I looked around me one more time to see if there was anyone to object to me opening them. But there was no one on the train yet. I shrugged to myself, settled into my set, and tore the first one open…

  Dear Francesca, 

I can’t stop thinking about you and our drive down to San Diego. I’ve never laughed so hard and so much in my entire life. I know we are meeting in Sacramento in a few weeks, which seems boring in comparison to LA and San Diego, but it doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together. We could be stuck in a phone booth with a paper bag and a piece of string, and I know we would figure out a way to have fun. I can’t wait to see you again. 

Always yours,

Lance 

Dear Lance, 

Aww, yes, San Diego was so fun! I haven’t been to the beach in forever. What a great day we had talking and swimming in the crisp Pacific Ocean. And that waiter at the burger joint you took me to. The one with the funny hat. Oh my! I can still taste the salty fries and feel the juice from my cheeseburger dripping down my arm. And that strawberry milkshake we shared. I have dreams about it! 

Thank you for telling me about your family. I’m sure things will get better soon. I’ll keep you all in my prayers. 

Three more days until Sacramento! The train ride down will seem so long until I see you! Until then! 

Your Francesca. (Lipstick kiss on the paper) 

My dear Francesca, 

Every time I see you my heart expands more. I was afriad Sacramento was boring for you, but you brought vivid color to everything we did.  From finding that coffee shop where we ate every morning to indulging me to take a drive to Muir Woods. What a special trip! 

I can’t wait to finally come up to Seattle to see you again and meet your family for the first time. I already feel like I know them because you’ve told me so much about them. You’re sisters sound like a riot! I must admit, I’m a little scared to meet your brothers and father. You said they are more protective of you since you’re the baby of the family. That makes sense, but I’m still nervous. It means a lot to me to make a good impression! I’m counting the days until I see you again. 

Always yours, 

Lance 

My Darling Lance, 

Muir Woods was so beautiful. I wouldn’t have believed how tall the trees were if I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes. That’s a trip I’ll never forget! 

My sisters are going to love you so much! I can’t wait for you to meet them. I’m planning a dinner party and card game night. They are such a hoot! 

Don’t worry about my brothers and father. Eddie and Sam will warm up, and Daddy is just going to have to deal because…I love you. I don’t care that I’m the first one to say it or write it in this case. I don’t care that I’m Catholic and you’re Jewish. I don’t care that you live in Los Angeles and I live in Seattle. I love you. I want to be with you. We’ll find a way. 

Love you, 

Francesca

I glanced up from my intense letter reading and looked around again. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I felt like I had to tell someone I found these amazing letters. Have we already stopped in Portland? We must have. 

I was startled when I realized someone had taken the seat next to me. The handsome man beside me with chocolate brown eyes and coffee brown hair stared at me with an amused expression. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. I cleared my throat and turned my head back down to these letters. My straw-colored hair got in the way of the words on the page.

The man next to me laughed. I turned my head quickly toward the offending sound. 

“Excuse me?!? Are you laughing at me?” 

“No, ma’am. I’m just enjoying your intensity. Those must be some very entertaining letters you’re reading. You’ve been mumbling multiple questions out loud since we left Portland 45 minutes ago.” He said with a chuckle. 

I felt my cheeks go from pink to scarlet in 60 seconds flat. I sunk further into my seat. 

“Oh, please don’t be embarrassed. The passion with which you are reacting to the letters is very refreshing. Are the letters yours? They look a little worse for wear.”

I looked at this man and then back at the letters. It is then I noticed the envelopes look a little water-damaged. After reading so far, my guess was that the water was from tears. That means one thing…this letter saga didn’t end well. My spidey senses perked at this. 

I saw a hand extended in my peripheral vision. 

“I’m Peter,” the man said with a twinkle in his eye.

I hesitated still looking at his hand. 

He continued. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh or make you feel embarrassed. I’ve just never seen someone so engrossed before. It was…unexpected.” His dimpled smile was more twinkle than I knew what to do with. 

I let out a sigh and relented. I took his hand in mine. It was warm and firm and a bit calloused at the same time. But also oddly comforting. Now it’s my turn to experience something unexpected: It’s the kind of hand I might want to hold again and not in a handshake kind of way. 

I dropped his hand suddenly with that thought before I even said my name. 

“I’m, I’m Bianca. It’s nice to meet you.” I stutterd. 

“Well, Bianca, I would love to know what’s got you so passionate about those letters. I love a good story.” He winked at me. 

I felt my face give a hint of a smile. Well, it looks like I got my wish I thought to myself. I have someone to talk to about this now. 

I took in an inhale and began to recap what I read so far. 

“And now I’m about to read a letter from Lance right before he’s about to travel to Seattle to meet Francesca’s family. I can feel his anxiety!!!” 

Peter laughed again, but I started to laugh a little too. “I can feel your excite…” 

“Excuse me, Bianca is it?” 

I look up in surprise. “Yes, that’s me.” I’m confused as to what the person across the aisle wants with me.   

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop, well, I guess I did because your summary was so captivating. But I really want to know what happens next. Would you mind reading the rest of the letters out loud?

“Yes, please read the rest out loud!” This came from the man sitting directly behind me. All I could see were his expressive green eyes peeking over the seat. The lady from across the way shifted over to the seats facing us.

She settled in and said, “My name is Shelia, by the way.” 

“And I’m Henry.” This was from the man behind me. He swung around to sit next to Shelia. Now Peter and I looked at each other with equally bemused expressions. 

We both comically shrugged at the same time. “Okay!” I said as I made eye contact with all three of them. “Here we go…” 

My love, Francesca, 

I’m writing this the day before I leave for Seattle. I know you won’t get it until after my visit, but I don’t care. I need to write out my nervous jitters! 

What if no one in your family likes me? That would destroy me. I love you so much. All I want to do is be with you. But I know your family is insistent on you marrying a devout Catholic man. And my family is just as insistent about my marrying a Jewish young woman. Can we find a way through this? I can’t help who I love. Religion plays no part in matters of true love. The heart wants what the heart wants regardless of what God it prays to or what dogmatic rhetoric it is supposed to adhere to. Do you see these wet spots on this letter? Those are my tears of fear and frustration. I’m praying for understanding and compassion from both of our families. I can’t wait to see you. No matter what might happen next.   

With all my heart, 

Your Lance

“Oh no!” This exclamation sounded like it was from behind me and to the right. I turned to look and there was another person who was coming toward our seats to listen. That makes it...what, I counted silently in my head, yup, 6 now. I didn’t hear the others sneak up as I was reading. 

Peter smirked. “My my, my enthusiastic friend, you’ve got quite the audience.” He looked around and raised his eyebrows at me. 

I let out a small laugh. “I guess, I do.” 

“Keep going!” Another new audience member blurted out from around Peter’s seat. He ducked back as everyone else was staring. 

“Sorry, this is the most exciting thing I’ve heard in a while, and it’s real life and not just something on the internet. Those are real letters.” He sunk into his seat further embarrassed by his excitement. 

“I’m Jackson, by the way.” 

I turned back into my seat and I giggled. “Okay, I guess I’ll continue then.” 

“YES!” Now that came from nearly everyone who has gathered around to listen. 

I kept going. 

My dearest Lance, 

I’m afraid this might be my last letter.  After your visit and the dreadful things my father and brothers said to you, I am utterly embarrassed and ashamed of my family. All I can say is that I’m so so sorry. Sorry for putting you through that. Sorry that they were so awful. Sorry, I didn’t fight hard enough against them. I’m spending the summer in Italy so I’m not sure when the next time we’ll see each other will be. For now, it’s going to have to be goodbye. I will always always love you. I’m so sorry. 

I love you so much, 

Francesca 

There was a collective gasp from the now even bigger audience. “What!?! NOOOO!” Shelia groaned. “It can’t end like that!!!” 

“I know, I’m so invested. The rest of my trip is ruined!” Henry patted Jackson’s shoulder to comfort him. 

Just then the door to the car opened and the train conductor walked through with a jovial smile on his face. 

“Oh good! You found the letters!” He looked around at everyone. “And it looks like everyone’s here. Perfect!” 

We all looked around in confusion. 

Peter leaned closer to me. “Do you know what he’s talking about?” he whispered in my ear. 

I shook my head not taking my eyes off of the conductor. 

“Oh in due time, my friend, you’ll understand in due time.” The conductor patted Peter on the shoulder. I couldn’t believe he heard Peter’s soft whisper! Weird.

“Everyone, follow me, it’s dinner time!” The conductor rubbed his hands together with excitement. 

I was not sure what was about to happen, but I promised myself I’d be up for whatever adventure awaited. 

Here we go…