Norris, by the way. I’m going to visit my daughter and her family in Boston, and I just happened to bring along four dozen of her favorite shortbread cookies. Somehow, I don’t think she’d mind my sharing them with all of you.”
She brought out the tin and pried open the lid.
“My wife and I have several oranges,” the elderly black man said. “We can share those. Since we’re going to be eating together, it’s only appropriate that we introduce ourselves. My name’s Sam Givens and my wife’s Louise.”
“Thank you, Sam and Louise,” Cathy said. “Anyone else?”
“I’m Matt McHugh. I was given a fruitcake on my last sales call,” Matt surprised her by saying. “I would’ve thrown the damn thing out, but one of my kids likes the stuff. I can cut that up if anyone’s interested.”
“Well, I’m quite fond of fruitcake,” Kelly Berry said.
Although the depot office was locked, the counter was free and Cathy placed the tin of cookies there. Matt took out the fruitcake and sliced it with his Swiss Army knife. Sam Givens brought over the oranges, then peeled and sectioned them.
Elise Jones collected paper towels from the rest room to use as napkins. Soon more and more food appeared. It seemed almost everyone had something to share. A plate of beautifully decorated chocolates. A white cardboard box filled with pink divinity and homemade fudge. Then a tin of peanuts and a bag of pretzels. Len added a package of cinnamon-flavored gum.
A crooked line formed and they all helped themselves, taking bits and pieces of each dish. It wasn’t much, but it helped do more than dull the edge of their hunger. It proved, to Cathy at least, that there was hope for them. That banding together they could get through this and even have a good time.
“My mother’s serving prime rib right about now,” Elise lamented as she took an orange segment and a handful of peanuts.
“And to think she’s missing out on Matt McHugh’s fruitcake,” Cathy said, and was delighted by the responding laugh that echoed down the line. Even Matt chuckled. An hour ago Cathy would have thought that impossible.
“I never thought I’d say this about fruitcake,” the young sailor said, saluting Matt with a slice, “but this ain’t half-bad.”
“What about my peanuts?” the guy with long hair asked. “I spent hours slaving over a hot stove to make those.”
Everyone smiled and the silly jokes continued.
“Quiet,” Nick said suddenly, jumping to his feet. “I hear something.”
“A train?” Matt teased.
“‘Do you hear what I hear?”’ Someone sang.
“I’m serious.”
It didn’t take Cathy long to pick up the faint sound of voices singing. “Someone’s coming,” she announced.
“Carolers?” Kelly asked. “On a night like this? For us?”
“No night more perfect,” Cathy murmured. Years ago she and Ron had been members of the church choir. Each holiday season the choir had toured nursing homes and hospitals, giving short performances. They’d been active in their church for a number of years. Unfortunately their attendance had slipped after Ron retired, then stopped completely when he became seriously ill. And afterward…well, afterward Cathy simply didn’t have the heart for it.
For the first time since the funeral, she felt the need to return. This insight was like an unexpected gift, and it had come to her at the sound of the carolers’ voices.
The door opened and a group of fifteen or so entered the train depot.
“Hello, everyone.” A man with a bushy gray mustache and untamed gray hair stepped forward. “I’m Dean Owen. Clayton Kemper’s a friend of mine and he mentioned you folks were stranded. This is the teen choir from the Regular Baptist Church. Since we weren’t able to get out last night because of the snow, we thought we’d make a few rounds this evening. How’s everyone doing?”
“Great.”
“As good as can be expected.”
“Hangin’ in there.”
“I love your
She brought out the tin and pried open the lid.
“My wife and I have several oranges,” the elderly black man said. “We can share those. Since we’re going to be eating together, it’s only appropriate that we introduce ourselves. My name’s Sam Givens and my wife’s Louise.”
“Thank you, Sam and Louise,” Cathy said. “Anyone else?”
“I’m Matt McHugh. I was given a fruitcake on my last sales call,” Matt surprised her by saying. “I would’ve thrown the damn thing out, but one of my kids likes the stuff. I can cut that up if anyone’s interested.”
“Well, I’m quite fond of fruitcake,” Kelly Berry said.
Although the depot office was locked, the counter was free and Cathy placed the tin of cookies there. Matt took out the fruitcake and sliced it with his Swiss Army knife. Sam Givens brought over the oranges, then peeled and sectioned them.
Elise Jones collected paper towels from the rest room to use as napkins. Soon more and more food appeared. It seemed almost everyone had something to share. A plate of beautifully decorated chocolates. A white cardboard box filled with pink divinity and homemade fudge. Then a tin of peanuts and a bag of pretzels. Len added a package of cinnamon-flavored gum.
A crooked line formed and they all helped themselves, taking bits and pieces of each dish. It wasn’t much, but it helped do more than dull the edge of their hunger. It proved, to Cathy at least, that there was hope for them. That banding together they could get through this and even have a good time.
“My mother’s serving prime rib right about now,” Elise lamented as she took an orange segment and a handful of peanuts.
“And to think she’s missing out on Matt McHugh’s fruitcake,” Cathy said, and was delighted by the responding laugh that echoed down the line. Even Matt chuckled. An hour ago Cathy would have thought that impossible.
“I never thought I’d say this about fruitcake,” the young sailor said, saluting Matt with a slice, “but this ain’t half-bad.”
“What about my peanuts?” the guy with long hair asked. “I spent hours slaving over a hot stove to make those.”
Everyone smiled and the silly jokes continued.
“Quiet,” Nick said suddenly, jumping to his feet. “I hear something.”
“A train?” Matt teased.
“‘Do you hear what I hear?”’ Someone sang.
“I’m serious.”
It didn’t take Cathy long to pick up the faint sound of voices singing. “Someone’s coming,” she announced.
“Carolers?” Kelly asked. “On a night like this? For us?”
“No night more perfect,” Cathy murmured. Years ago she and Ron had been members of the church choir. Each holiday season the choir had toured nursing homes and hospitals, giving short performances. They’d been active in their church for a number of years. Unfortunately their attendance had slipped after Ron retired, then stopped completely when he became seriously ill. And afterward…well, afterward Cathy simply didn’t have the heart for it.
For the first time since the funeral, she felt the need to return. This insight was like an unexpected gift, and it had come to her at the sound of the carolers’ voices.
The door opened and a group of fifteen or so entered the train depot.
“Hello, everyone.” A man with a bushy gray mustache and untamed gray hair stepped forward. “I’m Dean Owen. Clayton Kemper’s a friend of mine and he mentioned you folks were stranded. This is the teen choir from the Regular Baptist Church. Since we weren’t able to get out last night because of the snow, we thought we’d make a few rounds this evening. How’s everyone doing?”
“Great.”
“As good as can be expected.”
“Hangin’ in there.”
“I love your
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