He groaned as he sat up. The wind and rain had strengthened, a constant howl that accompanied the sound of the train itself. With no sleep the previous night and the exhaustion of grief, he’d lost all track of time, but he didn’t feel as if he’d been out very long. Violet had burrowed herself down into the pile of luggage she’d been sitting on earlier, curled up like a house cat. Despite what they’d been through, her brow seemed untroubled in sleep, and he didn’t have the heart to disturb her.
He put a hand on the crate holding his mother’s remains and boosted himself to his feet. There came a scratching from inside Maggie’s crate, as if a rat were trapped there. Malcolm shuddered with revulsion, imagining rodents inside with his mother, nesting in her clothing and hair. He felt the urge to open the crate, but what good would that do? If there were rats in the baggage car and they’d found a way inside the crate, killing them would be a temporary solution. Others would surely come.
Malcolm listened. The scratching ceased, but beneath the rain and the rattle of the train he heard another sound, familiar and impossible. Soft notes on a piano, playing “I’ll Be Seeing You.”
“Christ!” He recoiled from the crate, stumbled over his folded jacket, and banged against the doors. This was no jostled music box.
Violet stretched, rubbed at her eyes, and fumbled about on top of the luggage, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “You okay?”
Malcolm stared at the crate, heart racing, listening for those piano notes or more scratching.
“I tripped on my coat.”
“You were never graceful,” Violet replied. Teasing him, as if everything were normal, instead of the furthest thing from it.
He went along with the pretense. Maybe if they behaved as if this journey didn’t seem like the errand of a lunatic, he would be less on edge.
“I have trouble standing on solid ground, never mind a swaying train.”
“At least if we were drunk, you’d have an excuse,” she said. “I’m a bit jealous of Alfie right now.”
“You mean your bed isn’t as comfortable as you hoped?”
Violet put her arms behind her head and lay back on the pile of luggage. “It’s divine.”
The train slowed a bit. Malcolm glanced toward the front. “What time is it? I wonder if we’ve missed any stops.”
“I don’t even know what the stops are.”
Violet went on to say something about Alfie Hannigan, and wanting to go and check on the train schedule, but Malcolm couldn’t focus on the words. The train had slowed further but didn’t seem to be on the verge of stopping. They began to round a turn in the tracks, and as they did, he saw a flash of bright color out the windows at the front-left side of the car. Vivid, candy-apple red, even in the rain.
“Malcolm, what’s wrong?” Violet asked.
He made his way up the middle of the car, shoved a trunk out of the way, and knelt on suitcases to look out the rain-slicked window. They’d already passed that flash of red, but he craned his neck and looked back the way they’d come, and there, at a small-town crossroads where caution and curvature had forced the train to slow, he saw Joe Hannigan’s Tucker.
“Looks like the other brother caught up after all,” he said, smiling.
Violet slid from the pile of luggage and stood, looking at him strangely. “What are you talking about?”
“We just passed his car. There can’t be two that look like that out here. He must’ve driven like his ass was on fire to get ahead of us.”
“Or there’s a more direct route by road,” she said. “But that means we can’t have been asleep very long. Can’t be more than an hour, I’d guess. Do you think he managed to get on the train?”
“We slowed down at the curve back there. And I didn’t spot him by the car, so I figure he got aboard all right.”
Violet had come up beside him, both of them standing next to the baggage by the window. Her gaze lingered on the storm clouds and gray daylight beyond the rain-slicked glass.
“I’m not leaving Maggie,” Malcolm said. “That was the promise I made, and superstitious or not, it’s important to me to keep it. But I wouldn’t be against you rustling up something to eat from the dining car. Maybe check on Alfie while you’re there, make sure the brothers found each other.”
Violet smiled. They were both very tired, still grieving and confused, letting this journey control their lives for a brief time. To Malcolm, having this task to complete for his mother made it easier to bear her passing. Despite the sometimes brittle nature of their relationship, he wanted to do this for her, and for himself. Every moment focused on transporting her body was a moment he hadn’t spent wondering about his life’s next steps.
“Any special requests, regarding food?” she asked.
Malcolm shrugged. “You know what I like.”
Violet turned toward the front of the car. The train ran over an uneven stretch of track, and she stumbled to the right. Malcolm caught her before she could sprawl across the trunk he’d moved out of the way, and he pulled her upright.
“Watch your step,” he said.
