"I see.

"You know, it nearly is as good as Grandmother's. And this crescent, mm, it's not what I imagined. It's delicious."

"See why I can't resist?" He finished his wine and poured another.

"So Emily, where're you from, anyway?"

His question took her off guard for a moment. "Up north...where it's nearly all flat. Well, except for a few ravines and hills now and then." She looked out the window, scanning the scenery. "Sure is nice to see real mountains for a change."

"This is just the beginning. We'll be heading through a pass, I'd say, within the next half hour or so."

"I thought we might be. You know, I read how they tunneled through mountains to lay down track. That should be interesting."

Michael followed her gaze out the window. "Yeah, it's quite something how they managed to blast through sheer rock, isn't it?"

The drink not only relaxed her but it was remarkable the ease with which she was able to ignore a lot of his questions and turn them into queries of her own.

When they'd gone through a number of tunnels and over the Wasatch Mountains, the train slowed and bumped onto a trestle. "Okay, now there it is. The Great Salt Lake," he said explaining its name was because of its high content of salt. "You know, it's the largest salt lake in the Western Hemisphere."

"That's not hard to believe. It's so big. And the color doesn't even look real. It's beautiful." She concentrated out the window until the wheels were back on solid ground, then leaned back.

He'd been observing her the whole time. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was the first lake you've ever laid your eyes on."

"Oh, let's see... The largest piece of water I've laid my eyes on was a creek about a mile from home."

"Well, if you get a thrill over this, just wait until you see the Pacific Ocean." He smiled wistfully. "I'd love to see the look on your face when you get your first glimpse."

"Since I realized I'd be seeing the ocean, I've been so excited. Look!" She held an arm out, pushing up the sleeve on her blouse. "Goosebumps."

He ran a hand up her arm, which made the goosebumps stand up even more. "You must really have a vivid imagination. It's like you've sprouted wings."

They laughed and she pulled her sleeve down as a waiter cleared the last of the dishes off the table.

She didn't want to leave, but recalled Michael said he put aside time each evening to study. Maybe that was meant as a hint, or maybe not. Either way, if he wanted her to stay, he would ask. She pulled a ten-dollar bill from her pocket, and held it out to him.

"Oh no, you don't. Dinner's on me, remember? I asked you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. So put your money away."

She tucked her money back in and stood. "Thanks for everything."

"Thank you for having dinner with me."

She hesitated for a moment, hoping, then waved goodbye and walked off.

When she reached her seat, the children and their mother were visiting with friends a few rows down. She picked up her bag and went to her favorite spot in the lounge. Pulling out her notebook, she began: Maggie had dinner with a boy she met today. scratched out boy and replaced it with young man. She thought for a moment then scratched out Maggie and replaced it with I. she continued. He's going to be a doctor. He listened when I talked like every word was important. We talked for hours. I think I said more to him in those few hours than just about anyone else my whole life.

Shadows from a row of trees passed by the window as she looked out onto one of the most beautiful sunsets she had ever seen. That's when she saw his reflection.

She couldn't hold back her joy as he walked over and sat next to her.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said.

She closed her notebook, trying to breathe evenly. "Hi, Michael."

"Wow, that's some picture," he said, referring to the picture on the cover of her notebook. "You never told me you were an artist."

"Oh, no, no, I'm not. I drew it years ago. I call it The Dove.See?" She pointed to writing on the bottom left corner. "At the time, I imagined a big bird would come and take..." She stopped, suddenly seeing how foolish her childhood fantasy would seem to him. "Well, anyway, here I am, only the train's my bird."

They both laughed.

Then he turned serious. "Don't sell yourself short, Emily. I've attended a number of art exhibits in college and that's just as good as any I've seen."

His comment was encouraging, but it was also a reminder he was about to graduate from college. From what he said, he came from a family of college graduates. In that sense, they weren't a likely pair. Yet, that didn't discourage her. It wasn't as if her upbringing was by choice. It hadn't stopped her from studying the newspapers from front to back, and reading anything else she could get her hands on. Her ambition should count for something. Auh, what was she thinking? As if they really had a chance.

A group of people looking for players in a game of scrabble invited them over. She expected Michael would mention they weren't a couple, although he didn't seem to think it was necessary. The fun-loving banter between everyone was a pleasant surprise to her. So was the mouth-watering bottle of wine they shared. She was disappointed when Michael said they'd had enough.

Nevertheless, even their silences were comfortable now with their shoulders touching. The group had split up and they were sitting back across the car. Most of the crowd had gone and it was quiet. Everything was perfect.

She looked up just in time to see the full moon rise from behind a mountain. Its wise round eyes and cheeky smile settled on them as it bobbed and fluttered behind treetops, winking its approval. At least that's the way it seemed. She wondered if Michael saw it that way too.

He slid an arm over the back of the seat. She held her breath as he wrapped it around her shoulders. His hand tightened, pulling her closer. And even though her heart was pounding like crazy as she glanced up at him, she knew this was what she wanted. She closed her eyes, her lips quivering, rising to meet his. Just when the tension was almost too much to bear, he gently kissed the temple of her hairline.

Her disappointment was quick and her lids flashed open.

Their eyes met, and he moved toward her again. This time his lips settled over hers, soft and warm, urgent, and yet as tender as she had believed it would be.

Pulling his arm back around, he leaned forward on his elbows, smiling at her. "I wasn't planning to do that. Hope I wasn't being too forward."

She was still shaken, her lips tingling. "No," she breathed, "you weren't." Even if he had been too forward, she wouldn't have minded. The drink warming her insides made her bold in her own way, and she wasn't sorry.

"I'm glad," he said, lowering his voice. "You know, I really do care about you." He settled back in the seat, gazing out the window.

"So, Emily... there's something I'm curious about," he said after a few moments of silence. "You never mentioned why you're going to San Francisco."

"I didn't?"

"No, actually, you didn't. So, what's taking you all the way out west, anyway?"

She rubbed a damp palm on her skirt. "An old friend of my mother's."

"So then you...you don't have family there?"

She shook her head. Her throat tightened. Even he felt tense beside her all of a sudden. And after that beautiful kiss, this was hard to take. She looked out the window and noticed the moon had disappeared. He leaned forward, looking out too.

"I mean, it seems as if you've been avoiding talking about your family. Why's that?"

Tears welled, and she quickly brushed them away.

"What about your family back home?"

The silence spread far too long, and she was desperate to confide in him. Yet, this wasn't the time to tell him everything just to see if he would stay. She knew he wouldn't.

"What happened that's got you so...?" He turned to look at her, sitting back. "Emily? What's the matter?"

"It's... Oh, it's okay." But it wasn't okay. Everything she'd managed to forget these last few hours rushed back with Claude's face right where she had left it. She shook her head to lose the vision.

"Something's bothering you. Please tell me what it is."

"...Well, if you must know, it's my grandmother." She hated to lie to him, and although it wasn't a complete fabrication, she couldn't tell him the whole truth. "I miss her."

"Oh, Emily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right. I think part of it's that I haven't slept much." She patted the seat, thankful for the excuse that came so easily. "Actually, I ended up sleeping here the other night." She glanced at a group of people who had walked in a few minutes earlier. "Although it could get a little crowded tonight," she added, trying to make light of the moment.

"I don't think these seats were built for comfort, anyway." He thought for a moment. "Say, I have an idea. My room's small, but it's clean, comfortable, and quiet. The guy next to me decided to get off at the last stop. You can stay in my room, and I'll stay in his. That's the least I can do after I fed you all that wine."

"No, I can't do that. I'm going back to my seat." Oh... why did she say that? She didn't want to leave him.

Michael got up and pulled her to her feet. They walked back to her seat where they found Sophie sprawled out like a cat.

"Come, let's go." He took her hand and led her to his room.

"Go on, have a seat," he said, closing the door.

She sat on the bed and he went over and pulled a suitcase from the closet. It may have only been the moment or two of silence, but suddenly she felt uncomfortable with just the two of them alone. "You know, I-I don't want to be any trouble. Maybe I should go back. I can nudge Sophie over." She stood, moving toward the door.

"No, stay. I'll be out of here in a minute." He opened the suitcase, filling it with his clothes and toiletries. "You can lock the door, see?" He reached over to demonstrate how it worked.

She stepped back to the bed and sat, telling herself there was no reason to be nervous. Hadn't he told her that he cared? And hadn't he been considerate, apologizing for the most beautiful kiss she could have ever wished for? She wanted to thank him for that. Even now, he was going to all the trouble of letting her have his room.

"So then, we should meet for breakfast," he said, zipping the suitcase. "What do you say? Is seven all right?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

He picked up his luggage, walked to the door, and glanced back. "I had a wonderful time."

"Me too."

"Goodnight, Emily. I'll see you in the morning."

He closed the door and she turned the lock. She shut the light off, slipped out of her shoes, and crawled into bed. Hearing him move about next door was comforting, and to know she would see him first thing in the morning made her shiver with delight.

She looked out the window for the moon. It hadn't shown its face again, but she didn't need the moon to tell her how she felt about Michael. She sighed, smiling as she settled into the pillow.

"Next stop, Sacramento, forty-five minutes!"

Emily opened her eyes, knowing at once that she had slept in. She was out of bed in a flash, expecting Michael to show up at any moment. Her clothes were a mess and as she pulled everything together, she noticed that a button on her blouse was missing. Checking the bedcovers, she found the acorn, dropped it in her pocket, and continued searching the floor, the garbage, and even the closet for the button. Finally, she had to admit she could've lost it anywhere. She did her best to look presentable and then went next door.

"Michael?" she said, knocking.

It was obvious he wasn't there, and she headed up the corridor, searching for him. She stopped to freshen up, and was grateful when a woman gave her a safety pin to replace the missing button on her blouse. It was a little too big but she had no other choice.

When she reached the dining car, he wasn't there, so she took a seat, certain he'd turn up at any moment. She placed an order, keeping an eye on the entryway.

By the time breakfast arrived, she decided the oats and fruit didn't look so good after all. It was apparent he wasn't going to show. It was just as well. At least she would never have to tell him about Claude. Only that didn't stop her from looking around the diner once more before she left to check the lounge. He wasn't there, either.

When she returned to her seat, she was disappointed to find that Sophie and her family were gone. She sat, hoping Michael would come to find her. If he wanted to see her, he knew where her seat was.

Tears stung her eyes as she pulled the acorn from her pocket and looked at the familiar memento. It was such a small thing, yet a comforting essence of her mother, rising from the very dirt she had walked on. Though years apart, this little nugget was at least something real they shared. She held it to her lips, rolling it back and forth, wondering if her parents had loved their daughter, had loved each other. Love...that elusive word so many had taken to their graves. reached into her bag for her grandmother's scarf, draped it around her neck, and curled up. "Perseverance, little girl, that's all you need. Perseverance." Her grandmother's words gave her courage.

She put the acorn into her bag for safekeeping. It wouldn't last, she knew that, but for now it was what she needed. She gazed out the window as the train rumbled across what she learned was the Carquines Strait Bridge.

They pulled into the Sacramento station, and she leaned forward to study the departing passengers. All at once, she gasped and swung back from the window. What was Michael doing, getting off here? He told her he was going to Oakland. She looked again. He stood just a few feet beyond where she peered down at him from her car. He could have been a million miles away because he didn't notice her. His attention was on the beautiful raven-haired woman who rushed into his arms. They hugged before wandering off through the crowd, arm-in-arm.

She sank back in her seat as the train began to move. Just hours ago she had felt so close to him, and now it was apparent she meant nothing to him at all. Tears welled up again and she forced them back. This probably served her right for starting something so soon after what happened. Claude probably wasn't buried yet, and here she was, falling in love. What a fool she'd made of herself!

After they made a stop at Berkeley, the train never picked up much speed, and when they arrived at the Oakland pier, a man announced that the train would turn around and head back east. He added that those intending to go to San Francisco would take the ferryboat across the bay.

Emily slipped on her jacket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and made her way towards the exit, stooping with curiosity to look out the windows on her way down the aisle.

Salty sea air filled her lungs as she stepped from the train and followed the other passengers to the cavernous shed where the ferry waited.

The engines hummed and the floor vibrated beneath her feet as she climbed onboard. Men brought on carts of luggage, and soon the vessel inched from its binding, screeching and hawing like an old building. The foghorn blared a warning as they set off across the Bay.

She wandered the bottom deck furnished with rows of long dark benches and white pillars that ran from one end to the other. The floor above had an eating area and was much the same except for the way beams of light filtered down through stained-glass windows.

Not wanting to miss a thing, she buttoned her jacket and walked out onto the open deck. She pulled up her collar, then tucked her arms in as she watched the morning fog silently shift and roll about, creating the illusion that the Bay Bridge was suspended within its roving mist. Below, waves billowed forward and collapsed against the hull of the vessel. The scene was mysterious, beautiful a and a little frightening at the same time.

The mournful wail of the foghorn sounded again. She made her way to the front of the ferry, squeezing in between two passengers to claim a spot at the railing.

The fog was beginning to lift, and the sun pushed its way through the haze, glistening across the churning swells of water. In the distance, with tall elegant buildings rising out of a silvery fog, she got her first glimpse of San Francisco.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

As the ferry pressed on toward its destination, the fog dissipated, leaving the warmth of sunlight and blue skies over the Bay. Seagulls swooped down beside them in a spectacular race to shore where men threw out lines and quickly secured the vessel to the dock.

The buzz of activity, the sounds, and scents of the waterway, and the command of the towering city had Emily in a state of exhilaration as she made her way down the gangway. She leaned over the railing to watch pigeons scamper about the pier and snatch up crackers, dry breadcrumbs and other bits of food.