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A. M. Huff
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The rhythmic clickity-clack of the wheels on the steel tracks and the gentle rocking of the train lulled Grover Potts to sleep. Ever since he could remember, he fought sleep, feeling as though he would miss something. But it was nearly midnight and dark outside. He yawned. Not even the chattering from the other passengers as they passed by his compartment in the hallway could keep his eyes from closing. It had been a long day and, except for walking to the dining car to have a bite to eat and to stretch his legs, Grover had spent the day in the place he had come to call home, alone.
Traveling by train wasn’t his idea. A plane would have been faster. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember whose idea it was or why, but he was too tired to worry about it.
“Chesterville,” the conductor called as he passed by Grover’s compartment.
The sound of his voice caused Grover to sit up. He opened his sleepy eyes a little and peeked through the window. The train was slowing. Lights appeared in the distance. When the train came to a stop, Grover saw a young couple standing on the platform with a tiny baby in its mother’s arms. They boarded the train car up ahead.
“Good,” Grover thought to himself. It wasn’t that he disliked them. He had never seen them before, but he was glad they would be a train car away.
A moment later he heard the conductor knock on his door. Grover stood and opened it.
“Yes?” he said, looking past the small, non-descript man at the couple huddled close behind him. They were the people from the platform.
“Sorry to bother you at this late hour, but I was wondering if it would be all right for these fine folks to share your compartment. It would only be for a short while, until one of the others comes free.”
Grover eyed the couple. They were young, in their mid-twenties like himself, he guessed. The baby was a newborn from the look of it, tiny and frail.
“I suppose it’d be okay,” Grover said and stepped back into the room.
The compartment wasn’t large by any means. Just two upholstered bench seats facing each other on opposite walls. Above the seats was a fold down bunk bed, but Grover never used his. He slept where he sat. At the end of the bench seats nearest the door was a narrow closet on one side and a wash basin on the other.
The couple entered and the young man smiled at Grover. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “My name is Wallace Reed, and this is my wife, Cathy, and our young son, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Grover Potts,” he said with a nod before sitting back down.
“Thank you, Mr. Potts,” the conductor said before closing the door.
Grover watched as Wallace removed his overcoat and hung it in the closet. Wallace was a thin, well-dressed young man with short, dark, wavy hair and clean shaved. He took Peter into his arms and let his wife Cathy take off her coat. Cathy was a tad shorter than her husband. She wore no makeup which made her complexion appear sickly pale against the starkness of her long, dark brown hair that she wore tied back in a ponytail. The three settled into the seat facing Grover just as the train resumed its course.
“So how long have you been on the train?” Wallace asked.
The question caught Grover off guard. He glanced out the window while he tried to remember. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I boarded in Pendleton.”
“I see,” Wallace answered. “Traveling alone?”
“Yes…well, my parents were on the train, but they got off some time ago.” Grover eyed the small bundle. “How old is he?” he asked, raising his chin toward the infant.
“A week old,” Cathy said proudly.
Grover nodded. “Just one?”
“Yes, but we’ve only been married for a year,” Wallace answered. His comment made it sound as if they were planning on having more, a thought that unsettled Grover.
The truth was that babies made Grover nervous. They’re cute, most of them, but they can’t speak to tell anyone what the matter is. They can only cry and leave everyone to figure it out. Grover was never good at guessing games.
“That’s nice,” Grover said not really knowing what to say. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he noticed that Cathy was gone, and Wallace was sitting with his arm around a toddler beside him. Grover shook his head as though to reorder his thoughts.
“Where’s your wife?” he asked.
Wallace looked at him with damp, red eyes. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, went to get Peter some milk from—”
“No,” Wallace interrupted. “She left the train.”
“Left? When? We didn’t stop anywhere, did we?”
Wallace didn’t answer.
“Whose little boy is this?”
Wallace looked down at the toddler beside him. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”
“Peter?” Grover repeated, trying to understand how an infant of a few days old could have grown into a toddler in the blink of an eye. “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Grover said, trying to cover up his confusion.
“It’s just the two of us now. Right, buddy?” Wallace said. He pulled his son closer to his side in a one-armed hug.
“Well, I’m starved. Have you two eaten?” Grover asked.
“As a matter of fact, no,” Wallace said, looking beside him at his boy.
“What do you say we all go to the dining car for some breakfast?”
“Sounds good.”
The three stood up and made their way into the narrow hallway that ran along the left side of the train car. The dining car was near the head of the train, about four cars away. Not a long walk by any means but enough to stretch the legs and get the circulation going.
When they reached their destination, Grover noticed there were other passengers seated at tables beneath windows on either side of the car. A Matre’d took three menus from his console and nodded at them.
“Right this way,” he said in a cheerful tone. “Lovely morning, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, very nice,” Grover said and let Wallace and Peter go ahead of him.
“Here we are,” the man said, motioning with his hand toward the empty table.
Wallace and his son quickly sat down with their backs toward the front of the train. Grover took the seat opposite Wallace as the Matre’d passed out the menus.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” he said and then returned to his station.
Grover eyed the menu but already knew what he wanted. The same meal he had every morning since he boarded, a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns extra crispy, and two pieces of wheat toast lightly buttered. Oh, and coffee, black.
Wallace ordered for him and his son while Grover took in the passing scene outside. The train was traveling through the mountains and moving at a moderate speed which meant slow enough to get a real good look at the scenery.
“Oh, look!” Grover said when he spotted a deer and a fawn. “Did you see it?”
“Yes,” a deep voice answered.
Grover turned back to look at who spoke. Seated across the table from him was a teenaged boy with short, dark brown, hair and soulful brown eyes.
“Have I ever told you how much you look like your father?” Grover asked.
Peter smiled and blushed. “Yeah, every day.”
“Sorry, but you do,” Grover said.
The server placed Grover’s breakfast on the table in front of him and then set Peter’s chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles down.
“More coffee?” the server asked them.
“Yes, please,” Peter answered and moved his cup closer to the server.
Grover did likewise.
“You’re still having that for breakfast?” he asked Peter once the server left.
“Yes,” Peter said looking down at his meal. “It comforts me, in a way. Makes me feel like my dad is still here, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Grover said, looking at his own meal.
“I wanted to thank you again. I really appreciate your letting me stay in your compartment. After dad left, I didn’t know where to go. You see, I don’t know too many people on the train. Most were just friends of my dad. But you’ve always been kind to me.”
“No worries. I’ve watched you grow up. I never had any children of my own, but you’re like the son I never had.”
“Thanks, Uncle Grover,” Peter said.
After they ate, the two decided to head back to the observation car at the rear of the train. As they reached the last car, Grover stopped to catch his breath.
“Boy, this is so strange,” he said. “I’ve come here many times before and never had to rest.” He looked at the man standing beside him and smiled with pride. Beside Peter was his wife, Emma, a gentle woman with long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail. It made him think of Peter’s mother, Cathy.
“It’s okay,” she said in a kind and gentle tone. “We can take it slow.” As she said this, a young boy and girl came running up behind them. They came to a stop but not before bumping into Grover, nearly knocking him off his unsteady feet.
“Orville! Theresa!” Peter scolded. “How many times have I told you to watch where you are going? You nearly knocked your great uncle over.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Grover,” they both said in unison.
“Honestly, I don’t know which one is the instigator. Who knew having twins would be so much work,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Grover said though he leaned onto his cane a little more.
“Well, let’s go inside and find a seat. We’ll be going through my favorite countryside, and I don’t want to miss it,” Peter said.
They found a table at the back of the car. The glass dome and large windows made them feel like they were part of the scenery. On either side of the train the hills were lush and green, with trees and lilies of the valley and meadows of wildflowers of purples and golden yellow.
“Such a beautiful place. I never tire of seeing it. It never gets old,” Grover said and closed his eyes.
As the last of the sun dipped below the distant hills Peter stood up. “It’s time to go,” he said. “Time to get you two to bed.”
“Where’s Uncle Grover,” Orville asked, looking back at the table where they had all been seated.
“He’s left the train,” Emma said as gently as she could.
“But I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye,” Orville lamented.
“It’s okay, son,” Peter said, brushing a tear from his son’s eyes. “It was just his time to go.”
Traveling by train wasn’t his idea. A plane would have been faster. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember whose idea it was or why, but he was too tired to worry about it.
“Chesterville,” the conductor called as he passed by Grover’s compartment.
The sound of his voice caused Grover to sit up. He opened his sleepy eyes a little and peeked through the window. The train was slowing. Lights appeared in the distance. When the train came to a stop, Grover saw a young couple standing on the platform with a tiny baby in its mother’s arms. They boarded the train car up ahead.
“Good,” Grover thought to himself. It wasn’t that he disliked them. He had never seen them before, but he was glad they would be a train car away.
A moment later he heard the conductor knock on his door. Grover stood and opened it.
“Yes?” he said, looking past the small, non-descript man at the couple huddled close behind him. They were the people from the platform.
“Sorry to bother you at this late hour, but I was wondering if it would be all right for these fine folks to share your compartment. It would only be for a short while, until one of the others comes free.”
Grover eyed the couple. They were young, in their mid-twenties like himself, he guessed. The baby was a newborn from the look of it, tiny and frail.
“I suppose it’d be okay,” Grover said and stepped back into the room.
The compartment wasn’t large by any means. Just two upholstered bench seats facing each other on opposite walls. Above the seats was a fold down bunk bed, but Grover never used his. He slept where he sat. At the end of the bench seats nearest the door was a narrow closet on one side and a wash basin on the other.
The couple entered and the young man smiled at Grover. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “My name is Wallace Reed, and this is my wife, Cathy, and our young son, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Grover Potts,” he said with a nod before sitting back down.
“Thank you, Mr. Potts,” the conductor said before closing the door.
Grover watched as Wallace removed his overcoat and hung it in the closet. Wallace was a thin, well-dressed young man with short, dark, wavy hair and clean shaved. He took Peter into his arms and let his wife Cathy take off her coat. Cathy was a tad shorter than her husband. She wore no makeup which made her complexion appear sickly pale against the starkness of her long, dark brown hair that she wore tied back in a ponytail. The three settled into the seat facing Grover just as the train resumed its course.
“So how long have you been on the train?” Wallace asked.
The question caught Grover off guard. He glanced out the window while he tried to remember. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I boarded in Pendleton.”
“I see,” Wallace answered. “Traveling alone?”
“Yes…well, my parents were on the train, but they got off some time ago.” Grover eyed the small bundle. “How old is he?” he asked, raising his chin toward the infant.
“A week old,” Cathy said proudly.
Grover nodded. “Just one?”
“Yes, but we’ve only been married for a year,” Wallace answered. His comment made it sound as if they were planning on having more, a thought that unsettled Grover.
The truth was that babies made Grover nervous. They’re cute, most of them, but they can’t speak to tell anyone what the matter is. They can only cry and leave everyone to figure it out. Grover was never good at guessing games.
“That’s nice,” Grover said not really knowing what to say. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he noticed that Cathy was gone, and Wallace was sitting with his arm around a toddler beside him. Grover shook his head as though to reorder his thoughts.
“Where’s your wife?” he asked.
Wallace looked at him with damp, red eyes. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, went to get Peter some milk from—”
“No,” Wallace interrupted. “She left the train.”
“Left? When? We didn’t stop anywhere, did we?”
Wallace didn’t answer.
“Whose little boy is this?”
Wallace looked down at the toddler beside him. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”
“Peter?” Grover repeated, trying to understand how an infant of a few days old could have grown into a toddler in the blink of an eye. “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Grover said, trying to cover up his confusion.
“It’s just the two of us now. Right, buddy?” Wallace said. He pulled his son closer to his side in a one-armed hug.
“Well, I’m starved. Have you two eaten?” Grover asked.
“As a matter of fact, no,” Wallace said, looking beside him at his boy.
“What do you say we all go to the dining car for some breakfast?”
“Sounds good.”
The three stood up and made their way into the narrow hallway that ran along the left side of the train car. The dining car was near the head of the train, about four cars away. Not a long walk by any means but enough to stretch the legs and get the circulation going.
When they reached their destination, Grover noticed there were other passengers seated at tables beneath windows on either side of the car. A Matre’d took three menus from his console and nodded at them.
“Right this way,” he said in a cheerful tone. “Lovely morning, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, very nice,” Grover said and let Wallace and Peter go ahead of him.
“Here we are,” the man said, motioning with his hand toward the empty table.
Wallace and his son quickly sat down with their backs toward the front of the train. Grover took the seat opposite Wallace as the Matre’d passed out the menus.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” he said and then returned to his station.
Grover eyed the menu but already knew what he wanted. The same meal he had every morning since he boarded, a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns extra crispy, and two pieces of wheat toast lightly buttered. Oh, and coffee, black.
Wallace ordered for him and his son while Grover took in the passing scene outside. The train was traveling through the mountains and moving at a moderate speed which meant slow enough to get a real good look at the scenery.
“Oh, look!” Grover said when he spotted a deer and a fawn. “Did you see it?”
“Yes,” a deep voice answered.
Grover turned back to look at who spoke. Seated across the table from him was a teenaged boy with short, dark brown, hair and soulful brown eyes.
“Have I ever told you how much you look like your father?” Grover asked.
Peter smiled and blushed. “Yeah, every day.”
“Sorry, but you do,” Grover said.
The server placed Grover’s breakfast on the table in front of him and then set Peter’s chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles down.
“More coffee?” the server asked them.
“Yes, please,” Peter answered and moved his cup closer to the server.
Grover did likewise.
“You’re still having that for breakfast?” he asked Peter once the server left.
“Yes,” Peter said looking down at his meal. “It comforts me, in a way. Makes me feel like my dad is still here, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Grover said, looking at his own meal.
“I wanted to thank you again. I really appreciate your letting me stay in your compartment. After dad left, I didn’t know where to go. You see, I don’t know too many people on the train. Most were just friends of my dad. But you’ve always been kind to me.”
“No worries. I’ve watched you grow up. I never had any children of my own, but you’re like the son I never had.”
“Thanks, Uncle Grover,” Peter said.
After they ate, the two decided to head back to the observation car at the rear of the train. As they reached the last car, Grover stopped to catch his breath.
“Boy, this is so strange,” he said. “I’ve come here many times before and never had to rest.” He looked at the man standing beside him and smiled with pride. Beside Peter was his wife, Emma, a gentle woman with long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail. It made him think of Peter’s mother, Cathy.
“It’s okay,” she said in a kind and gentle tone. “We can take it slow.” As she said this, a young boy and girl came running up behind them. They came to a stop but not before bumping into Grover, nearly knocking him off his unsteady feet.
“Orville! Theresa!” Peter scolded. “How many times have I told you to watch where you are going? You nearly knocked your great uncle over.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Grover,” they both said in unison.
“Honestly, I don’t know which one is the instigator. Who knew having twins would be so much work,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Grover said though he leaned onto his cane a little more.
“Well, let’s go inside and find a seat. We’ll be going through my favorite countryside, and I don’t want to miss it,” Peter said.
They found a table at the back of the car. The glass dome and large windows made them feel like they were part of the scenery. On either side of the train the hills were lush and green, with trees and lilies of the valley and meadows of wildflowers of purples and golden yellow.
“Such a beautiful place. I never tire of seeing it. It never gets old,” Grover said and closed his eyes.
As the last of the sun dipped below the distant hills Peter stood up. “It’s time to go,” he said. “Time to get you two to bed.”
“Where’s Uncle Grover,” Orville asked, looking back at the table where they had all been seated.
“He’s left the train,” Emma said as gently as she could.
“But I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye,” Orville lamented.
“It’s okay, son,” Peter said, brushing a tear from his son’s eyes. “It was just his time to go.”
Copyright © 2025 James M. McCracken
JK Press
All rights reserved.
JK Press
All rights reserved.
