Chapter 10
Astrid
Had someone lifted this place straight from history and forgotten to put it back? No wonder it had made it onto the National Register of Historic Places.
Every time I walked into this station, nostalgia settled around me like the opening credits of a black-and-white movie. With its wrought iron benches, ornate lampposts, and rusted signs, the station looked like it had decided history was exactly where it belonged.
Dad and I had planned to come here this summer.
He would have loved this place—the vintage building, the old clock ticking overhead.
I could almost see him now, standing right here, taking it all in before turning to me with a grin.
“Let’s settle here, Astrid,” he would have said, as if the station itself was reason enough to stay forever.
“First time in Orange Falls?” a voice asked.
I turned to find a tall man in a navy-blue uniform, his matching peaked cap slightly tilted. It took maybe half a second for my brain to catch up. He was the conductor. Older now, definitely, but he still carried the same air of authority.
“I’ve been here before.” I smiled. “Exactly five years back. We even talked.”
He squinted slightly. “Did we?”
I nodded. “I nearly face-planted while getting onto the train, and you caught me.” I watched him, waiting for that flicker of recognition. When it didn't come immediately, I threw in an extra detail, hoping to trigger his memory. “You said I was clumsy, just like your granddaughter.”
His face brightened. “Ah, right! I remember you now. You were with the mayor’s daughter, weren’t you?”
“You’ve got it now.”
“Took me a while. Guess I'm finally getting old.” He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nice to see folks still coming back to Orange Falls.” He studied me for a moment. “Visiting again?”
“Settling here. I needed a change.” I doubted the town gossip had reached all the way out here yet, though, knowing Aunt Dee, the news had probably traveled farther than I'd expect. Still, he didn't strike me as the fence-leaning, elbow-nudging, whispering, Did you hear about the new girl? type
“Change is what you decide, young lady,” he reflected. “But destiny’s got a way of putting you exactly where you need to be.”
I stared at him blankly, not quite sure I understood.
Destiny .
Such a thing exists?
If it did, it sure hadn’t left a map. No family. No one waiting for me at home. Just me and a town that didn't know me any more than I knew it. If Kelly heard me say that, she’d probably show up with a frying pan, ready to whack me, and demanding— And what exactly am I? A ghost?
The distant honk of a train pulled me out of my thoughts.
“You’d better hurry to the ticket counter.” He glanced at the growing crowd. “Lines get pretty long this time of year. Wedding season and all.” He gave a nod, and headed off, leaving me to it.
I hurried to the ticket counter and bought two round trip tickets from Orange Falls to Pine Heights.
The clerk slid them toward me, thick and sturdy like cardstock, and the instant my fingers brushed against them, an oddly familiar heaviness settled over me.
It felt exactly like the ticket tucked away in my Cryptex box.
I shook the thought away, firmly pushing it aside.
On the platform, passengers were already boarding. Fifteen minutes passed, and still no Kelly. The train gave a sharp honk, signaling its final call. I tried calling her, but she cut me off mid-ring and sent a quick text instead: Can’t make it.
Seemed like a pretty big issue.
I sighed, and boarded the train alone.
I moved down the train, compartment after compartment, searching for an empty window seat, somewhere I could soak in the views of Orange Falls uninterrupted.
Four compartments later, it was obvious every good spot was taken.
The last compartment, though, had plenty of seats available, the one compartment I'd been hoping to avoid.
But with nowhere else left, I reluctantly stepped inside and slid into a seat by the window.
The train started moving, settling quickly into an easy rhythm. Outside, fields skimmed by in a sunny blur, vineyards sprawling lazily toward the horizon. Sunlight filtered through the window, warming my skin and softening the edges of the compartment into something almost cozy.
Just as I started to relax, darkness swallowed us whole as the train entered a tunnel. A few startled gasps broke the quiet. First-timers, obviously unprepared for Orange Falls’ tunnels.
I closed my eyes, a faint smile touching my lips.
The memories, sweet, bitter, and still close to my heart, came rushing in, carrying me back to five years ago.
“Astrid! Come back inside, you lunatic!” Kelly’s voice had climbed into that familiar place between panic and bossiness, but I wasn't really in the mood to listen.
“Let me have my Titanic moment, Kel!” I shouted over the clattering noise of the train, breaking into my best, and loudest, version of the world’s most famous romantic song.
Gripping the rails, I leaned back, imagining this footboard was the bow of my very own ship.
There was no Jack here, just me, Astrid, counting on nothing but the wind and the grassy fields rushing beneath to catch me if things took a sudden turn for disaster.
“Don’t expect me to jump after you!” Kelly shouted back.
“You won’t? Fine, get ready to be haunted when I become a ghost! “My hair whipped across my face, enjoying this reckless moment just as much as I was.
I'd been on trains plenty of times, but none of them felt like this. It woke up that wild, reckless part of me, the kind that usually needed at least two tequila shots before it made an appearance.
“Alright, you reckless maniac, I’m giving you exactly ten seconds to step back inside.”
“Or what? You’ll personally push me off the train?”
“That would be easy. I’ll just find the conductor and tell him some lunatic is trying to jump out of his train.”
“You wouldn’t.” I gasped. I could already picture the conductor, arms crossed, wearing that I’ve dealt with enough idiots for a lifetime expression. There’d be a lecture on rules, safety, and probably, common sense.
“I’ll even take some passengers as witnesses,” She added.
Her threat worked. I straightened, and Kelly helped me inside. But as I steadied myself, something caught my eye—a flicker of movement near the guard’s compartment, brief, subtle, just unclear enough to make me wonder if my eyes were playing tricks on me.
I brushed the thought aside and settled into my seat. Kelly leaned over, eyes glinting mischievously. “Passenger ratings. Vibes only?”
“Vibes only,” I agreed, grinning.
A kid by the window munching on chips like it was his last meal.
Nine for dedication, minus one for making me and Kelly crave chips.
Backpackers pointing at scenic views like they’d just discovered nature.
Solid eight. The elderly couple sitting close together, holding hands. Easy ten. They were adorable.
Right in the middle of our game, sunlight vanished, plunging us into darkness.
A tunnel.
I definitely hadn’t expected this, and Kelly hadn't warned me either. But I loved the rush, the feeling of the world pausing. Before I could even think to stop myself, a scream escaped me, ricocheting off the tunnel walls.
Kelly laughed, throwing her own scream into the mix. Another voice joined in, then another, and before long, the entire compartment was screaming and laughing together like a bunch of ghosts who'd just realized they'd all arrived to haunt the same house.
Light flooded back into the compartment, and I felt a sharp little pang, like the credits had started rolling way too soon on the best part of the movie.
“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this hard.” Kelly was breathless, still clutching her stomach.
“Add it to the list of reasons you love me.” I shifted in my seat, fingers brushing something firm beneath me.
A ticket.
I picked it up. “Kel, you have our tickets, right?”
“Of course.” She pulled them out and waving them like tiny victory flags. “Guarded them with my life. You think I’d risk being tossed off by the conductor?”
Then whose ticket was I holding?
I glanced around the compartment, debating who to ask first—the elderly couple, the tired-looking man behind me, or the kid’s mom? Before my amateur detective skills could kick in, I flipped the ticket over and went still.
Written on the back in rushed handwriting were words that sent my heart crashing against my ribs.
Careful, Rose. Titanic had lifeboats. This train doesn’t.
Someone had been watching me.