Grand Island

"Well, of course you can, with your connections, Bill!" Ben retorted, not unkindly.

Bill chuckled and seriously considered telling Ben what he had learned of his parents that afternoon. But he opted to let the mystery be.

Mary reappeared a few minutes later with a bundle under her arm, and the two men shook hands and said good night. On the walk back to their suite, Mary said, "I take it you haven't given him the gifts yet."

"Oh, heavens, I forgot!" Bill cringed.

"Very funny," Mary said.

"I'm not joking, unfortunately," Bill told her. "I did indeed forget."

"We make a better team than I thought, in that event," Mary said. "You see, now I know where their seats are."

Bill smiled. "And after everyone else has gone to bed..."

"We go back there and leave the gifts for them to find in the morning!" Mary finished.

Waiting outside their suite for Mary to unlock the door, Bill heard his parents screaming at each other across the hall. He did his best to avoid hearing any of the words, but did make out "worthless" and "slut" among his mother's rantings. Mary, who had been living with such epithets for nearly a year, did a better job of tuning them out. Once they were safe inside, she tossed the dress on the chair by the window and made haste lighting the lamp in the corner. Then she drew the curtain, turned around, and pulled her dress off without inhibition. "Bill, get in bed," she said.

"Are you sure?" Bill stood uncertainly just inside the door.

"It's time to celebrate!" she teased, reaching one hand between her legs. "You've taught me so very well so far."

Bill tried in vain to recall if he still had any of the sheep-skin condoms he had carried hopefully in his pocket all through his last year at Yale, and concluded that he did not. Remembering his own advice to Mary earlier in the afternoon, he reasoned that it was likely not necessary anyway. With that out of the way, soon his clothes were as well, and he found her straddling him happily in the narrow bed. She kissed him gently and he reached up to stroke her breasts as she did, and as the train roared on through the Nebraska night, Bill left the last vestige of his childhood wonderfully behind on the tracks somewhere.

Mary came twice before Bill felt his own wonderful loss of control, which she squeezed eagerly along while he caught his breath and gripped at her legs. Once it was over, she lay atop him and he slipped his arms around her back. "So," Bill said after a long, tender silence.

Mary raised her head. "So?" she repeated.

"Was I...I mean, I haven't done this before but obviously you have, so was I..."

"Were you better than he was?" Mary asked. "My darling, it wasn't even close, I assure you!" Bill allowed himself to laugh along with her, and once the laughter had died down, Mary asked him gently to never wonder about him again. Bill was never even to know his name.

They fell asleep entwined in one another's arms, but fortunately Mary awoke a few hours later. She shook Bill awake gently. "Bill!" she whispered. "It's well past midnight. Shall we?"

They dressed quickly and quietly, each of them opting for a pair of Bill's thick socks rather than any shoes so as to remain as quiet as possible, and Mary guided him through the dark and silent cars to the Brockways. A passenger stirred here and there and Bill had little doubt that a few of them were wide awake. But no one spoke up as they made their way down the long aisles.

At last, Mary drew to a stop. Bill saw Candy and Billy curled up on the seat before them, while their parents sat fast asleep across the way with little Henry bundled between them. Carefully Bill drew the gifts one by one from the sack. He lay the book on Marlene's lap, reasoning she could be trusted to hold her tongue if he happened to awaken her. Satisfied that he hadn't done so, he then set the baseball glove just before Billy on his seat, the horses in a semicircle around Candy's hands, and the locomotive between the two children -- perhaps they would know better which of them would prefer it. None of the Brockways stirred, and Bill backed away slowly while Mary retreated just before him. Safe back in their suite, they shared a triumphant embrace, and then it was back to bed.

The train was due in Denver late the following afternoon. In the morning they opted for breakfast in their suite rather than the dining car, not wanting an awkward reunion with the Brockways. "It just feels more appropriate that we let it be now, don't you agree?" Bill asked, and Mary did agree. As the scene outside showed the farmlands at last giving way to untamed prairie and windy snowdrifts, the moment of decision grew unmistakably closer. Without debate, they once again opted for lunch in their car. When that had come and gone, Bill asked, "So, do we get off at Denver?"

"You'll never see your parents again if we do, more than likely," Mary pointed out.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Are you asking me or yourself?"

"I don't know."

"You're not making this easy," Mary said.

"It's your decision as much as mine," Bill said.

"My, but you're a progressive gentleman, aren't you?"

Bill chuckled but said nothing. Mary stood watching the rugged Western countryside rush by and waited for him to tell her of his decision, just as she had watched her father do with her mother for as long as she could recall. The cold but brilliant sun rolled along in the sky as the train rattled on, and Bill remained silent in his perch on the bed.

Hours after lunch, the conductor called out for Denver, and Mary looked to Bill. He looked back at her with a smile and a shrug.

"Oh, very well, then, Bill, yes, I want to get off here!"

"As you wish," Bill said, standing up and crossing the room to collect his trunk.

"That's it?" Mary asked, surprised. "You're getting off the train on my say-so?"

"I told you it's a great place for us," Bill said, slipping his coat on. "If it's what you want, it's what I want."

"This is going to take a lot of getting used to," Mary mused, picking up her suitcase to follow him.

"Isn't that just what you want, though?" Bill said. "Not a lifetime of love, cherish and obey a man you didn't even know?"

"Precisely," Mary confessed.

Out in the hall, Bill took a long last look at the closed door of his parents' suite. He never seriously considered knocking on the door to say his goodbyes, but he desperately wished he at least felt some pull to do so.

At the vestibule, a woman stood just inside the door of the next car. When Bill opened the door to their car, the woman followed suit and they found themselves face to face with Marlene Brockway. "Bill! Mary!" She threw her arms around them both, and the trio were still locked in an awkward but joyous hug as the train drew to a halt. "I thought you had likely decided to get off here, and Ben was too proud to come say goodbye, but I couldn't resist. Thank you ever so much for the gifts!"

"What gifts?" But Bill's mouth was curling into a telltale grin as he said it.

"Oh, very funny!" Marlene said. "All the very best to the both of you! You certainly deserve it!"

"Thank you, Marlene," Bill said. "I do hope Santa Claus finds your kids in San Francisco."

"He already has found them," Marlene said, and she kissed Bill forcefully on the cheek before finally letting him step down onto the platform.

Neither Bill nor Mary gave any thought to walking off to begin their life together until the train pulled away, and so there were several minutes for a long goodbye with Marlene, and many wishes for a happy New Year and a promising future for all. Most of the other arriving passengers had met their friends and family on the platform and taken their leave by the time the train started up again. At last Marlene gave them a final wave and stepped back in so the conductor could close the door, and then with a jerk the train began to roll.

Mary turned to Bill. "Well?" she said. "I take it we can go to a hotel for the night and you can look up your friend tomorrow?"

"Of course," Bill agreed. But he didn't follow her lead just yet. "Just a moment," he said when she tried to draw him away. He gazed up at the window of his parents' suite as it rolled slowly by. "Let's see if they at least wave goodbye."

"They don't know you're getting off here," Mary reminded him.

"I have a feeling Dad will have figured it out."

"Why?"

"Because I'm just doing what he did when he was my age, and he realized his old life wouldn't do."

Bill gazed hopefully at the window. He nearly gave up hope, but just as the window was directly over Bill, he was rewarded with his father stepping up to look down at the platform. Bill waved with what he hoped was a conciliatory smile, and he was rewarded with a knowing nod and a wave from Father.

"I think he smiled back at me," Bill told Mary, and then he turned and picked up his trunk.