A Train Ride Away

The train creaked to a stop, smoke billowing from the pipe that protruded from the roof. The right heel, then the left, emerged from the opening doors of the train. Her bag hovered just inches from the concrete, and her emerald eyes squinted in the brightness of the sun. Locks of auburn hair fell over her forehead. She scanned the platform for a familiar face; her eyes settled on the soft, round visage of a 10 year old girl. Upon noticing the woman in heels, the girl stood straight and waved frantically. She leapt towards the woman, knocking the bag out of her hand. Her small arms wrapped around the woman’s waist.

“I missed you,” the girl said, pressing her face to the fabric of the woman’s peacoat. 

“I missed you too, Emma. We’d better get going to the house before mother starts to worry.” 

They took turns carrying the leather bag filled with the woman’s travel clothes. Walking along the cracked pavement in the late morning sun, Emma explained everything that her sister had missed, from the first harvest of pumpkins to the death of the local pastor (which mother had informed her of in her letters). As soon as the minutes began to fade into each other, the distinct light brown cottage came into view. The woman ran her fingertips across the leaves of overgrown vines that lined the porch. Together, they ascended the wooden steps that slightly caved under their weight. The girl pushed open the screen door and skipped inside. A middle-aged woman, donning a baby blue dress and a white apron, stood hunched over a pot on the stove. 

“Jane is home!” exclaimed the girl as she spun in circles. The woman in the blue dress looked over her shoulder at the returned woman. Her greying eyes lit up at the sight of the signature peacoat and heels. 

“Take a seat, darling. Lunch will be done in a minute. Emma, get your sister a glass of cold water; she must be famished from her trip.” 

Emma rushed to the fridge and pulled out a jug to fill a glass resting on the countertop. Jane took a seat at the dark oak table furnished with devil’s ivy. As Jane fanned her blushing face, Emma placed the glass of water on the table. Jane quietly thanked her sister. 

“So how was the city? Do you return with news?” asked the woman in the blue dress, leaving the stove to take a look at her daughter.

“Nothing new, mother. Oliver sends his best.” 

“Can you just marry him already?” Emma whined. Jane rolled her eyes and sipped at her water. 

“I already told you, I want to focus on my writing. That’s why I went to the city in the first place.” 

“It would be nice to have a man around the house,” mother commented. Jane rolled her eyes again. 

“If anything, I would move to the city to be with him; all the big publishing stations are there. You two would have to find your own apartment if you were to come with me.” 

“You did go to the festival with him last week, right? How was it? Did he hold your hand?” Emma probed. 

“The festival was nice. It was a good opportunity to find inspiration for my writings. There’s another one in about a month. Oliver wants me to go stay with him again so we can work more on our joint essays. I leave in three weeks.” 

“I do wish you wouldn’t leave me and your sister here alone every other month,” muttered mother, returning to the pot on the stove. 

“You and Emma seem to be doing fine without me,” Jane responded. She got up from the chair to pull off her heels and hang the peacoat by the screen door. Jane looked out to the garden that mother grew in the side yard.

Emma and mother had gotten used to living alone. Ever since Jane met Oliver at university two years ago, she took the trip to the city and stayed with him in his apartment. One month in the city, one month in the cottage; Jane never stayed put. It was important to her that she simultaneously cared for her family and continued her literary journey. Oliver supported her in this, and while he despised the idea of Jane travelling alone on the train so often, he cared too much to upset her. He simply wished to see her happy. 

Being pulled out of her trance by the sound of bowls on the wooden table, Jane returned to her chair. Mother served potato stew and bread into the bowls. The family ate and talked of events; the next morning, they would attend the pastor’s funeral. 

“I bet he never got to travel like you, Jane,” Emma commented. Mother shot her a look of warning and Jane giggled. 

“I bet he didn’t. But, he seemed content here. He was happy staying put and I am happy taking train rides.” 

After washing up, Jane moved to unpack her bag. She watched through her window as Emma and mother worked in the garden. It was peaceful in the cottage, unlike the bustling city that laid a four-hour train ride away. However, the city housed Oliver and thousands of strangers that became personalities in Jane’s stories. She dusted off her stacks of journals and books, planning to re-read and edit some old works. They would go back with her to the city; Oliver would love them. 

Jane laid out her nice black dress for the next morning. Her black peacoat and heels would pair nicely with it; they paired nicely with everything. By the time she pulled her current journal from the bottom of her bag, the sun started going down. When she opened to the next blank page, a loose piece of paper fell to the floor. Confused, she picked it up and carefully unfolded it. Before her was a letter signed by Oliver. Quickly, she rushed to the garden. 

“Mother! Emma! Oliver wants me to stay in the city with him!”

“Stay? You mean move in with him permanently?” Emma giddily questioned. Jane nodded rapidly, her lips parting to reveal an uncontainable smile. Hopefully, she turned to meet her mother’s eyes. 

“You’d better go get packing,” said mother. Emma bounced up and down and Jane let out a laugh. “And you better come visit your sister and I.” 

“Don’t worry mother, I’ll only be a train ride away.”