Storymania - The Railfan by Shelley Alongi

The Railfan
Shelley Alongi

1

Glen’s fever broke for the third time that Friday and now Judy dipped a soft rag into some water and wiped down his face and neck and chest. He lay back against his pillows, weary from this year’s influenza virus and let her place a fresh, white sheet over his much cooler six foot two inch frame. He slowly opened his blue eyes, eyes Judy had loved from the first time she saw him waving from the cab of the locomotive on the passenger railway line.

“Guess I’m not going to the railroad conference this weekend,” he murmured, almost as if thinking out loud to himself.

“The U.S. Rail one?” Judy’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, no, Glen. Poor Glen, you’ve already paid for it, too.”

“yes.”

“Can someone else go for you? I mean they could pay you back or something maybe. Just an idea.”

Glen’s face pulled into a confused frown.

“I’m sorry I’m taxing your head today.” Judy stroked his dark head. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Someone could go for me?”

“Well, I don’t know, honey. What about your friend. The teenager. The one who’s always showing you train videos. I always see you looking at them online.”

A moment of silence passed, Glen kept his faltering gaze on his wife’s face.

“Matthew Martinez,” he finally sighed, as if suddenly remembering his name. He closed his eyes, Judy slipped the wet cool towel over his forehead to help ease his nagging headache. He accepted the Tylenol capsules Judy held out to him and nodded gratefully.

“He might want to go. Can he go?” asked his wife, snapping the lid back onto the bottle and setting it on the nightstand. It clicked against a glass and a pitcher, and fell down. Judy picked it up then decided not to try and organize that tray anymore. Glen winked at her from the corner of one eye.

“My little perfectionist,” he whispered, giving his dry, irritated cough. A smile tried to work its way onto his lips, but stopped midway as his head protested, making him feel ill. “What did you ask me?” he said, fighting off the urge to escape into cooling sleep.

“Can Matt go to the conference,” she repeated, leaning down and smoothing his dark hair from his forehead, trying to keep him awake.
“yeah.”

“Can you transfer the registration?”

“I don’t know,” he said, turning on his side. “I don’t’ know.”

“I’ll check,” she said as she draped the edges of a light blanket over the wooden bed frame. “Poor sweet glen get some sleep now I won’t keep you awake anymore.” She ran her fingers through his dark hair one more time before turning away to leave the room. “If we can I’ll take care o the details.”

A few phone calls later, Judy had Matthew Martinez on the other end of the line.

“Look,” she explained. “This is Glen’s wife. You know the engineer.”

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly. “I know him.”

“Well,” she said, coughing. “Glen and I both got this nasty virus; Glen is in bed sick, sleeping.”

“oh,” his voice dropped a little in volume. “I’m sorry Mrs. Streicher.”

“Judy,” she said. “Mrs. Streicher, that’s for the bills. The legal things. Judy is fine, Matthew, isn’t it? Matthew Martinez. Well, anyway Mr. Matthew Martinez, Glen is too sick to go to the conference this weekend. Would you like to go. It’s already paid. All weave to do is switch over the name. Do you think your parents would let you go? It’s only Saturday morning and afternoon.”

“I don’t know. I can ask.”

“Let me talk to your mother. I can explain it if you like.”

A long hesitant silence passed. Judy waited patiently for matt’s response.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally. “maybe you better ask my father. But he’s not here, Mrs. Streicher,” he said in a Disappointed tone.

“Well, we don’t have to ask him right now,” Judy assured him. “We can wait till he gets home from work.”

“yeah,” said Matthew Martinez, “yeah that might be better.”

Early signs of twilight lit up the sky as Judy made her way to the bedroom. She hated to wake Glen, but she had to ask him a question. She stood at the door to the bedroom he had occupied before she moved in six months earlier. She had always liked this room, even when it contained a pile of railroad magazines on the floor. The spacious, neat room with only a dresser and the queen bed they shared, two nightstands, a chair tucked into a corner, and a mirrored closet, a photograph of a steam engine on one wall, the clock whose hands pointed to 5:00 pm, the blinds pulled against the cool, fall day. The bed, even with Glen sleeping in it was neatly put together, the sheets rumpled where he lay. She called his name quietly and sighed in relief as he turned and opened his eyes, searching for her.

“You’re awake,” she breathed in relief, sitting down in the chair she had taken out of its corner and placed next to the bed. “I was hoping not to wake you.”

He nodded and said nothing. Quietly he reached for her hand, his gaze questioning her.

“I need directions to the conference. Or at least I need to know the number where I can get them.”

“Probably in an email,” he said after a moment.

“In your inbox?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“You can look there.”

“I will. I don’t like to look in your personal folders but I’m driving Matthew to the conference on Saturday morning.”

“What?” Glen’s voice held a hint of surprise.

“Yeah. His father is working that day and can’t take him. His mother said her car wouldn’t make it. Or something. She’s kind of strange. Her words were muffled like she was drunk.”

“Probably,” Glen sighed. “Normal for her.”

A hint of anger suddenly appeared in her husband’s eyes. She didn’t seem them angry very often, but it definitely wasn’t the fever making him roll his eyes like that. Judy put her hand over his and squeezed it in sympathy. “It upsets you,” she said. “He’s quite a boy; manages somehow.”

“You’re okay?” he ignored her comments.

“Yeah. I’ll come home and get back into bed beside you.”

“You don’t’ want me to drive?”

“Glen,” Judy smoothed his hair. “Don’t be silly. You barely know your name sometimes this weekend. I can hardly get you to hold a glass of water. You’re not driving anyone anywhere. Safety first, Mr. Train Engineer.”

Glen lay back, covering his head with his hands, massaging his forehead. Judy laughed.

“You see what I mean? It’s not that far. I’ll pick him up tomorrow night at the end of the workshops. The kid is so excited he can hardly stand it. He seems a little awkward like he’s going because you can’t and he looks a little sad or embarrassed that he’s so excited.”

“I know the feeling,” he said. He pulled the covers over him and closed his eyes against the encroaching headache. Judy put some medicine into his hand and he swallowed the water before he was to ill to even think of such things. He would be asleep soon, the medicine easing his headache. He smiled a little. “thanks for thinking of him, Judy. Glad we could help. Tell Matt not to worry. It’s okay.”

When Judy sat in the driveway and Matthew Martinez got into the car with his bag, Glen lay awake, his eyes closed, just awake enough to hope Matt enjoyed the conference. He curled up on his side burying his head, the anger he felt for Matt’s situation just pushing its way through the headache and fever that soon claimed him. He closed his eyes, forgetting momentarily about Mat’s unhappy family.
When Judy came into the lobby to meet a thoroughly exhausted but happy boy texting on his cell phone, Glen was asleep. Judy had nursed him through the day, most of which he didn’t remember. Matthew Martinez had sat through the presentations and walked into the exhibit hall to see the models excited to be there. The hubbub, the engineers congregated in knots, the railfans looking at some historic rail car, and even the conversations he initiated and joined, and the videos he watched all kept him involved, but still there was the feeling of guilt because his friend was unable to go. Matt smiled at Judy just a little.

“Thank you, Mrs. Streicher,” he said shyly. “Tell Glen I’m sorry he couldn’t’ make it. Is he better?”

“He’ll be alright, Matt,” she said remembering his red eyes in the morning and leaving him restless on his pillow when she came to get him. She imagined him wrapped up in the blankets his head there, his glazed eyes opening slightly as she said goodbye. On day two of his illness, everything hurt; arms, legs, head, joints. The way he looked at her when she came to him could make Judy laugh a little, but she didn’t because she understood that Glen really was uncomfortable. Now she patiently waited as a silver Prius glided silently into the lane beside her and they both waited to exit the parking lot. She waved the Prius on, held back for a black BMW crossing in front of her and slid into traffic. “He’ll be ok. And he would want you to be there. I’m sure he’ll want to see your pictures. You took some didn’t you?”

“yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I did. Maybe I’ll come on Monday and show them to him.”

“He’ll like that,” she said. “He will.”

Judy turned down the street where Matthew Martinez lived; his house was two streets over from theirs. She pulled into a driveway littered with two old cars and a faded blue four door Sedan. She looked up at a dark window, an overgrown yard.

“Tell Glen I’ll pay him back for the conference,” Matt said quietly, watching Judy take in the scene of disarray. “He was supposed to go to it.”

“Oh,” Judy pulled the corner of one eye, “I don’t think he’ll let you pay him back, Matt. It was just he got sick at the last minute and it was already paid. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks again,” Matt said, sliding his lanky frame out of the car and hoisting his camera bag over his shoulder. “Thanks.” Judy thought she saw a sad look on the boy’s face; or maybe it was something else. She couldn’t really tell.

2

Monday morning, Glen lay on the sofa, watching a movie, his headache eased. He got up and looked out of the window as the doorbell roused him from his half awake state.

“mat,” he smiled. “I’ll be right there.” He gestured for the boy to wait. Glen went to the door opened it.

“Glen.”

“Hi.”

Glen’s eyes took in the scene, the slightly stooped boy framed by the doorway, standing a little back from the entrance, the jeans and sneakers and a shirt that said “I’m loco for that motion” and showed the outline of a newer style engine.

“Did you get that at the conference?” Glen asked, smiling and pointing at the shirt. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I did,” said Matthew Martinez, a shy smile creasing his bony face. He hadn’t quite filled out yet, his dark skin still fresh and smooth. No shaving accidents had marred his appearance, one that seemed a little hesitant here.

“Are you better?” the boy now asked. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you I guess. I’m. well you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” said Glen Streicher, who had answered the boy’s big-eyed question three years ago. Gliding by on his skateboard Matthew had asked if Glen was an engineer and then smiled shyly but kept coming by and waving. Glen’s friendly responses always encouraged the boy to keep dropping by. Now, a few hundred or so train videos later, and a few other significant events passing under the bridge, Matthew didn’t mind standing on Glen’s porch.

“You want to come in?” Glen asked. He started to wave Matthew into the house, then thought better of it. “Well,” he said, “maybe that’s not a good idea. You might catch something. Keep you out of school.”

“School,” said Matthew Martinez. “I could use a few days off of school.”

Glen chuckled and winked mischievously.

“No,” he assured. “Not being able to get out of bed for three days is no picnic. You’d just have to go back to school anyway.”
“Well,” said Matthew Martinez, “maybe not that way. I’m glad you’re better anyway.”

“What are you holding?” Glen had noticed a red and white manila folder in Mat’s hand.

“Oh,” he said, extending the folder. Glen took it.

“Information from the conference. I thought since you couldn’t make it I could bring you information.”

Glen looked at the steam engine on the front cover. He nodded and smiled.

“Hey thanks.”

“ok,” said the teenager a little awkwardly. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go. I took lots of pictures, too,” he said. “When you want to I can show them to you. Or email them.”

“yeah,” Glen said, cheerfully. “We can do that. Did you bring them now?”

“Yes,” he said pointing to the camera bag on his shoulder. “I needed to get away. I brought them. I wasn’t sure.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked. “Are your parents arguing again?”

Glen didn’t want to think of that, it might make his head hurt and he felt better, at least for now.

“Vicky and Tim,” Matt confessed. “Tim was arrested again. Shop lifting. The police took him. Vicky’s sulking in her room. My mom started an argument with my dad. She was, was..”

“Drunk,” Glen finished the boy’s sentence.

“Yeah,” matt admitted, shifting from one foot to the other. “I thought I’d com see if you wanted to see the pictures.”

Matt did not step out of the entrance, Glen knew Matt wasn’t afraid of catching anything. Glen knew that Judy had thoroughly cleaned everything; she had done enough baby sitting to know how to keep viruses from spreading. They were both tired and congested, but Glen thought it would be okay if Matt came into the house. He waved matt into the house, the boy came in without hesitation, glancing with wonder at some train pictures in the entry hall.

Matt had always wanted to go into Glens’ house. But Glen was always running the passenger trains and Judy was with him or working or something; he never knew. They always just said hi in the morning when Matt would skateboard by the house. Their friendship had started months earlier one night when he saw glen coming home late.

“What the heck are you doing out so late, Matt?” Glen asked that night with a warm smile. It was 9:45. “Does your mother know where you are?”

“Moms not home,” Matt said, stopping at the fence. Glen held his engineer’s bag and a cap in one hand. Now Glen’s smile faltered only a little. “I see.”

“She’s Working?”

“This late?” Glen’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You work late,” Matt responded, looking down a little.

“Is your mom a train crewmember?”

A hesitant smile made its way across mat’s face, turned into a frown. He shifted his eyes away from Glen.

“Is she really working?” Glen asked, coming closer to the fence. He was tired. It had been a long week, but tonight was Friday and he could sleep in tomorrow if he wanted to. That was if his wife would let him. He smiled. She would. Now he fixed Matt with his blue gaze, making him look up.

“She’s not working,” he said. “Something else is going on.”

Matt held his camera bag to him. Glen reached out, pulled it toward him.

“Let’s see. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry man. I just know. Well, anyway, may I see the pictures? You took pictures of trains today an you want me to see them.”

A door opened behind Glen, Judy stepped out, two of the three dogs followed her. She smiled at the boy.

“I see you found a friend,” she said. She came to her husband, put her arm around him, looked over the fence, too. The dogs sniffed at Glen’s ankles.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Streicher,” said matt diffidently. “I’ll go.”

“No,” they both said together. “No. Let’s see.”

Matt took out the camera and turned the power on. They watched as the pictures loaded and he switched them to the ones he had done today.

“Here’s your train,” Matt said. “I got it at Devon shire.”

“You did! Did you get me calling the signals, too?”

“No. No sound. That was two days ago. Anyway,” Matt said diffidently, “I should let you go.”

“Okay,” he said squeezing his wife’s hand. “But you have more pictures. Judy won’t mind.”

She nodded and smiled at the boy.

She patted her husband’s shoulder, rubbed his back.

“I’ll see you,” she said. “Stay out as long as you like. Glad you made it.”

She turned and hugged him, Glen turned his attention away from the fence and brought Judy to him for a kiss, one that lasted a little longer than necessary, promising things to come.

“Okay,” she whispered. “See you, soon.”

Glen turned back to see matt’s face red; he stepped away from the fence.

“Hey,” Glen waved him back. “What’s the matter.”

Matt looked up.

“I wish,” he said quietly. “I wish my parents were like that. Sometimes,” and he seemed to shrink a little, “sometimes I think they hate each other. You’re lucky, man. I wish…”

“Okay,” Glen said, seeing his friend struggling with embarrassment. “Let’s see those pictures. Let’s see them.”

3

“ I want to be an engineer,” Matthew Martinez said a month after his andGlen’s first meeting. Glen and Matthew bounced some balls around the outside court in the local high school. One of the gates leading to the track and the courts was open; local neighbors with kids came and rode bikes, skateboarded, shot hoops. Glen didn’t consider himself an athlete but he liked to try to stay in shape. Judy had suggested he take matt with him sometimes.

“He likes you,” Judy said one time in the cool summer evening.

“He likes trains,” her husband the man who had been an engineer for fifteen years said. “It’s not me he likes.”

“I bet you’re wrong Mr. Train Engineer. I bet he likes you. He just wants someone who will get all excited about trains like he does.”

“I remember being like that,” Glen said. Their conversation took place outside in their backyard. Glen sat heavily down on the swing they had moved from Judy’s house to the one at 2941 Cleveland Avenue. Judy sat down and took his hand. Two glasses of iced tea sat near them. Glen reached for his and sipped at it. He rubbed Judy’s hand.

“So why aren’t we out watching trains?”

“We can go watch trains,” she said.

“No,” Glen said. “No it’s okay. This is just fine.”

Judy cuddled up next to him, resting her head on his arm.

“I love you,” she said. “Matt likes you.”

Glen laughed, almost choking on the tea.

“It’s true,” he conceded the point. “It’s true.”

Matt did like Glen. They could talk about trains and now shoot baskets. Matt wiped sweat from his forehead.

“How’s school, Mr. I Want to Be An Engineer?”

Glen sprinted across the court, dribbled the ball between his feet.

“Okay,” Mat said. He sat down on a bench on the side of the court. Glen bounced the ball over to him, eying him a little warily.

“What?” asked the boy.

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“yeah, it’s okay.”

“You didn’t do well on those reading scores, Matt,” he said. “You showed them to me. Are they improving?”

“I think so.”

“Well,” Glen said, sitting down now, panting a little from the exertion of the last few minutes. He waited till he caught his breath. “Get your homework done. Ok? You have to be able to read to be an engineer. All those policies; and besides there’s a lot of tests we take.”

Matt smiled.

“I didn’t think of that,” he said. “I will.”

“Good.”

The man and the boy sat on the bleachers, two small children whizzed by on bikes, two or three boys skateboarded along the sides, their helmets glinting in the setting sun.

“I’m off school Monday,” Matt volunteered. “I’ll work on that. There’s a book report due in English. I don’t’ like English.”

“I didn’t like English,” Glen told the boy. “but I can read. I just didn’t like books.”

“Railroad books?” Matt asked.

“Well,” glen sighed a little. “Yes I do have a few of those.” He wiped remaining sweat from his face. He looked at his watch, got up and got the ball.

“Come on, matt. Judy’s waiting and this engineer is worn out. You’ve got more energy than me, man. You bested me.”

He reached out and shook Mat’s hand, then waved him to the entrance.

“Come on, I’ll drop you at your house.”

4

Mat piled his lanky frame, he was five feet seven inches already at age 15, into Glen’s Toyoda. Even after marrying Judy he had kept that car. Now it held both man and boy, Matt being almost as tall as his friend. Now silence passed as Glen started the car.

“You’re kind of quiet there, Matt,” Glen said, pleasantly tired after their exertion in the court. “I thought I was the one who was worn out.” Glen caught Matt’s gaze in the mirror and stifled his next teasing comment. “Hey,” he suddenly said. “What’s up?”

Matt looked in the mirror, caught his friend looking behind him for traffic.

“Hey you’re clear on this side,” he said. Glen nodded.

“Got it.”

They drove in silence, the trip to Matt’s house took five minutes.

“Over there,” he said shortly. “On Columbus Street. That house.”

Matt pointed to a driveway and motioned for Glen to stop the car.

“I don’t want you to see it,” he said. “It’s kind of messy.”

“Hey,” Glen pulled to the curb, motioned for Matt to stay in the car. Glen turned his eye to the driveway, saw dry, splotchy lawn, two old cars, he bet there were oil spots in the driveway.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked. “Kind of messy. Is that the only thing?”

Matt cringed in the seat as the door to the house swung open and a woman in a lose fitting bathrobe came to the top of the steps, observing her son in a stranger’s car.

“Your mom,” Glen said watching as the woman came unsteadily down the stairs.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” Matt explained. “The yard is messy enough, the house is bad enough. My mom she always has to come out and look at who’s driving me home. I wanted to refuse the ride but, well, you’re a nice guy Glen, and it is kind of hot. It didn’t make sense. Now you’ve seen her.”

Glen ducked his head and slid his tall body out of the car, came to matt’s side and stood, observing the short, plump woman, her hair straggling across her shoulders in gray strands. She stood at the bottom of stone steps, the fence surrounding the lawn rusty, old curly queue posts leaning inward. He shook his head in disbelief.

“You don’t want to seed the rest of the house,” Matt said finally coming to stand beside Glen, his head reaching Glen’s shoulder. . “The inside is messy.”

Glen observed the area with an eye trained for detail. He had always been good at memorizing landmarks and characterizing features of a place. It made that part of learning new railroad routes a little easier, now he drew a plan in his head, knowing what needed to be done.

“Does your dad need help painting the place? I can fix that fence.”

Matt’s face flushed. Glen dropped the subject, either knowing Matt was embarrassed, or the family didn’t have money to fix the fence, or perhaps, he thought, even the desire to fix it.

“matt, I want to meet your mother,” he said. “Come on.”

Matt hesitated, then suddenly waved Glen forward.

“What the hell,” he whispered. “You’re the only one brave enough to talk to her.”

Glen stood to his full height, his broad shoulders back and approached the steps. his tennis shoes crackled on the sun dried grass. He walked toward the woman, his conductor’s cap placed squarely on his head. Matt
followed behind him,

“Hello Mrs. Martinez,” he said in a friendly way. “I’m Glen Streicher. We live two streets from you.”

The woman slowly leveled her gaze on the railroad engineer, menacing him with bloodshot eyes.

“You,” she snapped. “That damn train thing. Matt spends entirely too much time at the tracks.” She clenched her hands into fists, her voice rose several degrees. “Damn Matt and those trains. Ever since he met you he can’t talk about anything else. Always damn trains and the engineer who actually likes his pictures. And damn my husband for buying Matt that camera.”

“She’s been drinking,” Matt whispered behind Glen. “Don’t start anything. Please.”

Glen put out his hand, not quite touching Mrs. Martinez, only extending it.

“You have a great son, Mrs. Martinez. Plays a mean pickup game. I just wanted to introduce myself Mrs. Martinez.” He smiled.

Mrs. Martinez stood stiffly, looking at the tall engineer and her son who didn’t stand too far behind him. Her eyes dropped, her tirade suddenly over.

“Matt,” she said looking over Glen’s shoulder, “come in here and help make dinner. You’re late again. You know you shouldn’t be out there when your father is not at homed You have work to do and I bet it’s not done yet.”

Glen dropped his hand and made direct eye contact with the woman.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Martinez. Matt is just having some fun here. I’m just dropping him off to help get him home earlier. You have a nice day, Mrs. Martinez.”

Glen gave matt, an encouraging smile. He squeezed Matt’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hang in there. I’m sorry man.”

“I better go,” Matt said with his eyes downcast. “She’ll give me hell. We’ll do this again,” he said. “I’ll practice my reading.”

“I’m working Monday,” Glen said. “I’ll come and see you between shifts. Maybe I can help.” His eyes brightened a little as an idea suddenly occurred to him. “Matt, you come over to the house any time you like. I’ll tell Judy you can come inside and if you want to practice reading here. She’ll let you in. Give you a place to practice if you need a place to go.”

“I like to go to the tracks,” he said. “I go hang out there a lot. They don’t follow me there. If I don’t go to the tracks I’ll come to your place.”

“Okay” Glen said. “That’s fine.”

“Matthew James Martinez!” the shrill call came from the steps and Matt turned on his heel and shot Glen a parting glance. Glen stood on the sidewalk watching Matt as he retreated into the house. His eyes darkened as he got into his car. He listened for a moment for any words and heard nothing. Slowly he engaged the engine and made the trip home to Judy.

He put the ball in the garage and stepped into the cool house, met by Vincent his small collie who licked at him.

“Hey there, Vincent.”

He shrugged out of his shirt and pants in the bedroom, preparing for the shower.

“Hey! Rough game?”

Judy stood framed in the doorway, her red and white blouse and knee-length shorts hugging her small figure. She smiled warmly at him. He returned the smile.

“Did Matt give you a run for your money?”

“No,” he said coming to her, half undressed. “His mother did.”

He looked down at his pretty, petite wife and sighed.

“That’s a bad house to live in, Judy.” He sighed heavily.

“Well, I’m making dinner,” she explained. “Salad and sandwiches. That would help you feel better. Then we can discuss it.”

Judy looked at her husband’s body, flushed with activity, his face sad and red from the heat. She reached out and put her hands around his waste, smiling at him.

“You’re always so expressive, Glen. That look is priceless. Come eat when you’re out of the shower ok. I can’t wait to see you.”

Glen smiled and held her to his naked flesh, bending to kiss her mouth, her face.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “My girl. Always trying to cheer up your train engineer. That wasn’t fun.” He kissed her again this time suddenly desiring her, his body tensing. She leaned against him, putting her arms about him. His hot, large hands slipped beneath her bra straps, lay against her flesh, unclasped the hooks, Judy held his hands on her breasts, his fingers circled them.

“That salad can wait,” she whispered sweetly. “If you want it to.”

Glen did not remove his hands. They tightened slightly.

“Help me with these buttons,” she said coyly. He moved his hands up her breasts, slid them over her shoulders, slid his fingers along the front of her blouse, felt the buttons, letting his fingers rest on her skin. The blouse fell from her, the bra with it, her body responding to his warm hands and flesh. He picked her up, held her against his chest in his large arms. He guided her to their bed, pushed the pillows off the foot of the bed, laid her on it, came and sat beside her, lying down with her. He guided her hands.

“Train engineer,” she whispered. “Sweet train engineer.”

A chuckle, a laugh, a gasp, waiting, positioning, and release. She lay beside him, her head on his chest, her legs tangled with his. His hands strayed to her hair, massaging her head, squeezing the soft curls, their touch electric. She lay in his arms for a few moments, she slowly, deliberately kissed him. He groaned in feverish anticipation, curling her to him, loving her, softly laying her on the bed again, making her comfortable, slowly, quietly satisfying his sudden consuming desire. They lay together for a second time, spent, Judy breathing in the sweat, activity, strength.

“You’re okay?” he asked now, his lips near her hair.

“Completely ravished,” she teased him. She traced his mouth with her fingers. “If I miss my cycle you know what will happen.”

“We’ll be parents,” he said, suddenly weary and excited at once. “I didn’t think of that.”

Judy watched Glen’s face soften a little as she caressed it, resting her hand lightly in his hair.

“I love your hair,” she said. “It’s touchable.”

“You’re silly,” he said, pulling her to him, holding her closer.

“Do you want my child?” he now asked.

“One child,” she said. “I want you mostly to myself.”

He chuckled low in his throat.

“I’m kind of selfish,” she said. “I had to wait a while to get you.”

They were quiet, remembering that Glen had almost sent her away.

“You would love her like you love Allison,” Judy said, daring to bring up the daughter that had haunted him for his entire career on the rails. “If it was a girl, I mean.”

Glen rested his hands on Judy’s back, massaging it, matt forgotten in this new comfortable existence.

“Scott Brown was right,” he whispered with emotion, putting his head on her neck, kissing her softly, “I would have been a fool for losing you.”

“Well,” Judy said, “this was the right time for you. You were always unsettled before anyway; here and there, in one state then the other, and I was working and caring for my mom and just in a different place. I met you when God wanted me to. I’m here and I’m hungry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Do you want to eat now?”

Glen sat up, held his wife in his arms again, needing her strength, wanting to love her, knowing that he was lucky to have found someone who was genuine and smart, too.

“Let’s go to the mountains,” he said.

“Now?”

He laughed.

“Maybe not now. Soon. Just you and I. I can put in for time off.”

“We’ll do that,” she said. “But now let’s go eat.” She caressed his dark, curly hair again letting her eyes rest on his. “Now that you’re feeling better,” she teased his hair with her fingers, and watched him redden slightly, “There’s something in your eyes, glen, something that says you’ve got a plan for that boy. Let’s go eat and you can tell me about it.”