When she woke, Sophie was sleeping across the aisle, huddled up with her mother and brother. Just to see them so peaceful and secure in each other's love was comforting. It hurt not having it herself, but it also gave her hope, that is if she could just get through this.

She could either live in a state of self-condemnation; she could give up and turn herself in at the next stop; or she could put everything in its place and continue on as planned. There was no hope in prison, no support from anyone back home, especially the men, not even Steven after what she did. But there was hope in Samuel Dimsmoore, and she had to believe he had cared enough about her mother that he would have compassion for her. Her heart told her to think on that, to forget the bad if she could, and to leave behind Claude and all the misery he brought her.

Those three across the aisle snuggled up like new-born pups was the kind of thing she would dwell on, that and keeping so busy she wouldn't have time for anything else. A trip to the lounge car was probably a good place to start.

She picked up her purse and began to stand when suddenly the train jolted and brakes screeched as she flew headfirst into the seat in front of her. Sinking back with a thud, she reached in her bag for a tissue and held it against her head. Her temple throbbed. The sound of squealing brakes and the grinding of wheels as they came to a stop didn't help. She looked over at Mister lying on the floor. Sophie was dangling off the seat, still hanging onto her mother. Everything was quiet for a few seconds, and then the train came back to life.

Nettie pulled her children into her arms. "Are you two all right?"

"Yeah, but what happened, Mommy?" Sophie sounded frightened.

"I don't know, sweetheart." She looked over at Emily who was dabbing her forehead with a tissue.

"Oh, Emily, you're bleeding."

"A little. It's nothing to worry about. What about the children? Are they okay?"

"They're fine."

"Boy, that was cool," came Mister, over on his seat now, looking out the window.

A few moments later, a crewmember stepped from the vestibule, moving from row to row, questioning passengers. "Is everyone okay, anyone hurt? You okay, Ma'am? Sir, any injuries your way?"

"Over here," Nettie called, motioning toward Emily. "She's bleeding."

He nodded, continued assessing the passengers, and then stopped at Emily's seat. "Oh, yes, you do have a gash there, don't you? Just sit tight, young lady. It won't be long. We're gathering up medical volunteers."

"Sir," Nettie said. "Can you tell us what happened?"

He had already started up the aisle but stopped and turned back. "I'm afraid we hit a herd of cows, Ma'am. That happens now and then. Although we have everything under control, I assure you."

Not more than ten minutes later the same man Emily ran into in the vestibule walked up the aisle.

"Oh... hi," he said as their eyes met in a fleeting moment of recognition. "I see you've got a little cut there. How're you doing otherwise?"

"I'm all right... just... startled more, I think."

"Let me set this down," he said, placing a black bag on the floor, "and I'll patch that up for you." He took a seat next to her and pulled out cotton and disinfectant. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really, not any more. A little numb, maybe."

Sophie leaned over the armrest. "Hey, mister. You a doctor?"

He turned for a moment, smiling. "I'm working on it."

"Is her cut bad?"

The young man chuckled. "No, not at all. I think it looks worse than it is."

Emily tried to concentrate elsewhere, but her gaze kept drifting back to his eyes. She winced when he swabbed her wound with disinfectant.

"Sorry."

"That's okay." She would make sure not to flinch again.

"Is it just your head?" he asked, exchanging supplies for a Band-Aid.

"Yeah, I hit the back of the seat."

He ripped the Band-Aid open and placed it over her cut. His cool hand lingered for a moment and then gently moved down to the spot still bruised from the wallop Claude gave her. "Is that sore at all?"

"No, no, not at all. I-I bumped into something a couple days ago."

"Sir," a crewmember called from the doorway. "When you're done here, there's a couple people two cars up that need looking at."

He glanced up at the train official. "Sure, I'm just finishing up here."

Then he turned back to Emily. "So, there you are." He pressed the edges of the Band-Aid.

"Thanks for the patch." She watched him gather up his bag and stand, imagining herself tugging on his sleeve and asking him to stay.

Sophie jumped to the floor and yanked his pant leg several times. "Is my friend okay?"

"Almost as good as new," he said.

Sophie held up her doll. "See what she gave me?"

"Oh, well, that was very kind of her." He turned to Emily and nodded. "Hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." Then he smiled down at Sophie and walked up the aisle.

Sophia took a seat next to Emily, hugging her doll. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, Sophie, I'm glad you are too."

As the train sat for the next few hours, Emily caught herself looking for the young man whenever someone walked by. Finally, she saw him as she headed to the diner with Sophie and her family.

Their eyes met just long enough for her to experience an excitement that sent shock waves through her in the most stunning way. Daniel made her heart flutter, made her want to do crazy things like fling herself onto a swing and take it higher than she should have. He made her jump for joy and laugh, and even made her cry with longing when he was gone. But this was more intense, like a flame rushing through her veins and into every cell of her body, nearly sucking the breath out of her in the best of ways. And it made her forget. It made her happy again.

A little voice warned her that now wasn't the time for these feelings. Although they weren't something she could stop any more than she would be able to stop her heart from beating, or her lungs from wanting more air.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Most of the passengers were asleep as the train rumbled through the night, although Emily's mind wandered on about the handsome young man that had saved her life with disinfectant and a Band-Aid. Well, maybe not exactly saved her life, but her wound was clean and healing, which was exactly what he had set out to do.

When she awoke the next morning, daylight put some sense back into her head. All during breakfast, she chided and laughed at herself for thinking just because he'd taken care of her measly little wound a by some code of honor no doubt a and looked into her eyes a few times, that she meant anything to him. How silly to let her mind go on as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Shouldn't she be crying her eyes out and begging forgiveness instead of gushing over a man far beyond her reach? But then wasn't it just as fair to put blame where it was due? Hadn't Claude been the one to confront her and drag her up to the hayloft for sex?

Emily spent most of the afternoon playing games with the children while their mother went to the lounge with a couple of her friends. When the women returned, she picked up her bag and went to rinse her face with cold water, taking special care not to wet the new Band-Aid a train medic had put on earlier. She changed into a white cotton blouse with a standup collar and large wooden buttons that matched her brown skirt. Then she set off for the lounge and found a seat facing the window. She pulled out the Nancy Drew book again, glancing up now and then to watch the passing scenery.

The lounge car was nearly filled now with lots of cheer and conversation. She closed her book finally and took pleasure in the lively atmosphere. Some of the passengers played cards, discussed football, or whether or not President Eisenhower would withdraw the Marines from Lebanon, while others talked about their travel plans.

All at once, the young man she'd spent so many hours thinking and debating over walked through the door. She quickly looked out the window, feeling as excited as a whistling teapot ready to bubble over. When he sat two seats down, her heart beat so fast she was certain he could hear.

She straightened the collar on her blouse, glad she had taken the time to change. Expecting that everyone noticed her eager reaction to him, she was relieved by the distraction of grinding wheels and the pull of gravity as the train slowed and began its climb into the Rocky Mountains.

"How's your head?"

She nearly lost her breath when she realized he was talking to her. "Oh, it's fine." She touched the Band-Aid. "Someone changed it for me this morning."

"That's good."

"But thanks for putting on the first one." She wished she hadn't said that. It probably sounded as if that's all she'd been thinking about.

"That's my job," he said, and then turned and stared out the window.

She sat quietly looking out herself, pretending to notice the scenery a lot more than she was. It was disappointing that he'd have no reason to speak to her again, now that he knew she was okay. Not that she was ever in danger.

"Where're you headed?"

She smiled when she realized it was him again. "San Francisco."

"Oh, really. Me too. Well, actually I'm going to Oakland. So are you from San Francisco?"

"No. This is my first trip out west."

"You don't say. Well, I'm sure you're going to love San Francisco." He got up, moved to the seat next to her, and held out one of his long arms. "By the way, my name's Michael."

"I'm Emily." Her hand folded into his where it felt warm and safe. Yet when she slid her eyes up to his, she began to tremble and pulled her hand back. Say something, quickly. "Sorry about running into you in the vestibule yesterday." She cringed, wondering why she said that after everything else that had happened since. Now he would know she'd been thinking about the moment they met and how she'd fallen right into his arms.

"Auh, that's fine. I didn't mind."

The awkward moment passed and she knew there was no turning back. She looked down at what appeared to be a medical book on his lap. "So you're going to be a doctor?"

"Yes, in fact I am. I'll be in residency soon, across the bay, at Berkeley. I've been back home in Maine, visiting my mother. She was in the hospital with heart problems."

"Oh. That's too bad. Is she okay?"

"We hope so. She's at home now anyway, recovering. Thanks for asking."

They talked for some time and then Michael looked at his watch. "I need to return a book to someone before he gets off the train, but say... uhm... They have this dish in the diner. Prosciutto Gouda. And... each time I head across country, I always make sure to have at least one. All it is, really, is a crescent with cheese and dried ham. But let me tell you, there's nothing simple about the way the chef puts it together. Oh, and their soup de jour tonight is vegetable. At least as good as Grandmother's, I'll bet. So, how about it? Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Oh. Well... sure. That sounds good."

She went back to her seat, wondering if she had a right to feel so happy.

"Emily," Mister called, "you're just in time to play a game with us."

"I can't. Sorry."

Sophie tossed a pair of checkers across the board. "Why not?"

"I, well, I ran into someone and, well... we're having dinner."

Nettie looked over, grinning as if she knew something. "By any chance, is this a young man you're sharing dinner with?"

"Someone's got a booyfriend," Mister teased.

Sophie giggled and chimed in. "Someone's got a booyfriend."

"All right kids, you're being rude."

Emily laughed. "Oh they're fine. I can take a little ribbing."

"Still, they know better." Nettie sternly eyed the two.

The children returned to their game, and Emily fixed her hair, then slipped some money into her pocket and stuffed her bag under the seat. She stood, straightened her clothes, giving Nettie a how-do-I-look motion.

"You look beautiful, just beautiful."

"Well, here goes."

On the way to the diner, guilt tried to spoil her high spirits, telling her she really didn't deserve this kind of happiness. When she saw Michael waiting for her, those feelings vanished.

There was a candle on the table, two salads, and a bottle of red wine. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered you a salad?"

"No, this is nice, thanks." She hesitated, looking at the wine as she sat, although she didn't want to ruin the mood by mentioning that she didn't drink alcohol, and so she let him pour her first glass of wine.

He filled his own, and then raised it to her. "Here's a toast to your trip out west."

She considered her aunt's warning about the effect of alcohol on some people, especially the men in her family. Of course, they usually drank beer or whiskey, she reminded herself as she lifted her glass.

The wine was tangy and bitter at the same time with a curious taste that became less bitter with each sip. The effect came all at once. It was pleasing, and made her feel relaxed and almost carefree.

The waiter brought dinner, and they both started in on the Prosciutto Gouda and soup.

"What do you think, Emily?"

"Well, the soup de jer... Is that how you pronounce it?

"Yes, although the spelling is, De j-o-u-r. "