Read Online Red House Blues by sallie tierney - Free Book Online

that
deer-in-the-headlights expression.
    Outside, the gentle mist that was falling as
she arrived at the station had transformed into steady downpour.
Suzan regretted not tucking an umbrella into her pack. Rain was
sheeting over the waiting room windows, obscuring any view of the
track. She noticed near the vending machines a group of guys with
too many scruffy duffle bags and duct taped back packs were giving
some poor kid a hard time about his hangover. The waiting room was
packed with college types who had obviously started the Spring
break party the night before and would undoubtedly continue to
escalate it all the way into Seattle.
    One of the kids gave another one a
good-natured shove into the Coke machine. Kids. That’s how she
thought of them, though they weren’t much younger than she was.
When had she started to think of herself as so old? It seemed just
the other day she and Sean, Tony and Claire had set off on Spring
break together with just as much wild joy as the vending machine
group.
    Just as she was about to give up on the
southbound train, it pulled into Fairhaven Station. Hefting her
pack and purse, she joined the flow of travelers toward the
boarding gate. It was going to be a very long, uncomfortable
morning.
    Her assigned car was half way down the train
and she was soaked to the skin by the time she found the right
number. To her relief, the Coke machine crowd had peeled off at an
earlier car. Suzan lodged her soppy pack and jacket in the overhead
and took a place by the window, glad no one seemed to have booked
the adjacent seat. She couldn’t bear to make idle chitchat with
anybody this morning.
    The train lurched into motion. Pulling out
of Fairhaven the train was a submarine diving into unfathomed
depths, the rain a horizontal sheet of black water, turning the
windows to mirrors fast fogging over. So much for enjoying the
scenery. All she could see was her own hazy face. Maybe on the way
back from Seattle she could sightsee. It wasn’t going to happen
today.
    She hadn’t thought to bring anything to
read, being a little afraid she would get motion sick. Perhaps, she
considered, it would help to have something in eat. The elderly
couple across the aisle were sharing sandwiches they had had the
forethought to bring, probably remembering with regret the days
when train travel was genteel and sophisticated transportation.
Before jet liners, before Amtrak was the last resort for the broke
and abandoned.
    Their peanut butter smelled wonderful. She
decided to find the snack car for a sandwich. Breakfast, such as it
was, seemed like a lifetime ago. She made her way up the aisle
toward the front of the train, tossed and jostled with every
sideways lurch, almost landing in the lap of one of the vending
machine students as she passed through their car who, lucky for
Suzan, was sound asleep.
    She returned to her seat without incident
juggling an egg salad sandwich and a cup of coffee. The snack bar
offered no peanut butter and jelly. The only other choices were
soggy tuna salad, and ham with what looked like some kind of
rubbery cheese.
    Swirling swatches of red and yellow beyond
the windows suggested the train was passing through the Skagit
Valley bulb farms. There were going to be some very unhappy flower
farmers once the late spring storm blew over leaving all their
daffodils and tulips smashed flat in the muddy fields. The rain was
relentless, ice crystals scratching the glass. Suzan closed her
eyes but the train seemed to be stumbling over every tie, a rhythm
of thumps and bumps that any minute threatened to derail the
train.
    The train plunged into a tunnel. She tried
to think why that struck her as odd. Were there mountains between
Bellingham and Seattle? She felt the train sliding out from under
her, peeling itself away, leaving her standing on a forest trail
surrounded by towering black fir trees.
    The rain has stopped but it
is so dark under the thick branches she could only see a few feet
of the