7. The Train
“Abigail, are you sure you want to go? You were the brightest in your class,” her mother insisted. “You could stay here, meet a nice man, and teach all the other youngsters,” Sarah insisted.
She stood in the door frame, twisting the end of her long brown hair in her fingers as Abigail carefully inspected her dresses to decide which ones would make the cut to be packed.
Her suitcase was already almost full of fabric to jump-start her dressmaker business in the South. Abigail looked away from the barrage of fabrics and at her mother’s sad, brown eyes. Abigail recognized she was struggling with her leaving.
“Yes, Mother, don’t worry about me. New Orleans is the place to be right now.” The last thing Abigail wanted was to tie herself down to a menial job. After discovering her gift, she had chosen to spend her time learning as much as she could, rather than waste her time playing childish games.
Every time she looked in the mirror, she was reminded that this life technically didn’t belong to her.
Sarah wasn’t her real mother. Abigail needed to get far away and start fresh, without the guilt that followed her as she lived her life.
A loose strand of her brown hair fell into her face, and she blew it out of the way as she worked to pack.
“What about New York City? It’s so much closer, and we would see you far more often.” Sarah’s voice cracked.
Abigail stopped packing and embraced her mother. “I’ll be fine, I can’t explain it, but I need to get out of this town. Something about being here…” Abigail released her mother and thought carefully about how to communicate her thoughts. “I don’t know; I feel unsettled.”
She was unsettled living with a man and woman to whom she felt only partially attached. Abigail felt like she was a fake, living a lie. As much as she wanted to feel like Sarah was her mother, she knew deep down her real mother was dead, having never met her since died in childbirth.
Sarah retreated to her post in the doorway. “You have always been extraordinary. Even Sally thinks so. You have spent many years learning dressmaking from her. I know you think you are going to be able to support yourself, but it is dangerous to be an unmarried woman.”
“Oh, Sarah, leave the poor girl alone,” her father said. “She has a dream, and she needs to chase it.” Gerry came in gently, pushed past his wife, and gave Abigail a wink.
His dark hair and grey beard reminded Abigail of her own real father, Eduard.
Gerry rolled up the sleeves of his red flannel shirt and tucked the loose fabric into the back of his jeans.
All his quirks reminded Abigail of Eduard, which made it easy for her to truly love Gerry.
Abigail smiled fondly at him, thankful he came to her rescue.
“Not everyone wants to live and die in the same place, and there is so much of this world to see!” Gerry plopped down on her bed, ignoring the glaring looks from Sarah, who looked between them, and then turned to leave the room.
“Ignore her, little Abby. She will be fine. You should have seen her when I told her we were coming to America in the first place. She broke nearly all our dishes.”
“I can imagine that.” Abigail looked back at the door. “Think the dishes are safe for now?”
“Bah, like I said, she’ll get over it. You need to follow your heart.
” He patted the bed next to him, inviting her to sit.
“Now, the reason I came in here, other than to save you from your mother, was to give you a gift. I know you have worked really hard to save up for your train ticket, so I wanted to do something else to help you get your feet under you.”
He handed her a folded-up paper, and once in her hands, she could tell there was something heavy inside. Slowly, she unfolded the paper, revealing two keys and an address scrawled in messy penmanship.
“Keys?”
“Well, I have a friend in New Orleans who I asked to keep an eye on you, and well, he went a step further and found this little shop on Main Street that has a small living area upstairs. He was able to get a good deal on it, so I sent him the final payment last month, and he sent me the deed and the keys.”
Abigail stared at him in disbelief and then back at the keys. Her heart swelled at the kind gesture. It was more than kind. It was by far the nicest gift ever given to her in either of her lives.
Well, she thought, except for the gift of a second chance as Abigail. But as far as physical gifts went, this tops them all.
“You mean I’m going to have a shop and home that I own once I get there?”
“Well, yeah—” Abigail cut him off, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Thank you! This is a wonderful gift that I’ll treasure forever.”
Gerry gently shifted away. He was never good with expressing his emotions. He stood to leave.
“Well I know you have an early train to catch tomorrow, so I will leave you to it. I know you are all grown up now, but you will always be my little Abby.”
Before she could respond, he was out of the room, with the door shut behind him. The keys were gripped tightly in her hand. She couldn’t breathe. Little Abby.
Her mind flashed to her memory of Abigail playing that day she lay on her deathbed.
Frizzy hair. Red polka dots. Tears pooled in her bronze eyes, and she blinked them away. I’m so close to getting away from them and from all the reminders of the life I took.
After she finished packing, she returned to the dining table to join her parents for their last supper. Sarah, despite her obvious disagreement with Abigail leaving, had cooked all her favorite foods.
“I’ll make sure to pack up some leftovers you can take on the train.
I know you said they provide all your food, but I just wanted you to take a little bit of home with you,” Sarah said, the wrinkles around her eyes appeared as she gave a reassuring smile.
It just wasn’t clear to Abigail if it was meant to encourage her or her mother.
The family went around and shared their favorite memories of her time in Buffalo, some embarrassing and others heartfelt. Abigail leaned back in her chair, stuffed and content with the amount of food she’d eaten.
She yawned and took the opportunity to take in her surroundings one final time. Her caring non-mother, Sarah, and her doting non-father, Gerry, held hands as they all sat and stared at each other.
I can’t miss them; they aren’t my real family.
As bedtime drew near, they all cleared the table in a newfound silence as reality was coming closer with every passing minute.
“At least let us come see you off at the station.” Sarah and Gerry stood together as they bid their daughter good night at the bottom of the stairs.
“No, I want to remember you like this, in our home. I love you, and I’ll write to you every week. Good night.” She hugged both her parents before heading to bed for the last time in their home. Guilt swallowed her heart. The lies flowed out of her easier as the time to leave drew near.
Just one more night and I’ll be able to leave this all behind me.
Part of her would miss them, but remembering the fact that she wasn’t their real daughter — and the shame she hid because of that fact — no, she wouldn’t miss that.
Early the next morning, Abigail boarded the train and looked back at her town one last time. She smiled, knowing it would be the last time she would see it. With every passing step away from Buffalo, a fresh wave of relief washed over her.
There would be no more pretending, no more worrying she was going to be called out as a fraud. Leaving town meant no one knew who she was, and she could bring more of her real personality as Jane back into her life.
The smell of locomotive oil mixed with the scent of freedom as she boarded. Her thoughts danced ahead as the next chapter of her life was unfolding.
A fresh start. New beginnings. An escape from the nothingness of the life behind me and the reminders of my precious family, she thought as she adjusted to the difference in brightness from the platform.
The train was teeming with a variety of passengers, some faces she recognized, traveling for business. Many were strangers waiting impatiently at yet another step toward their final destination.
She checked her ticket, first class. It was a huge splurge, but with a long one-way journey she felt it was money well spent. Her suitcase bumped into the walls and fellow passengers as she continued her way towards her cabin. She reached her door and set the luggage down, taking in the moment.
“Ma’am, we need to keep the hallway clear as we load and unload.” A steward ahead of her appeared, his voice attempting to remain pleasant but firm with instruction.
“Sorry.” She nodded at him in appreciation and grabbed her suitcase, the old leather cracking and peeling off. The steward eyed her luggage and shook his head as he passed by. Her manner of dress was the only clue that she could possibly come from money. The suitcase gave away the truth.
Abigail laid her suitcase on the bed with a heave.
The room was a comfortable size, bigger than the room she left behind.
A small vanity sat opposite from a narrow closet.
Dresser drawers jutted out next to the vanity and were nestled right up against the bed.
A lamp that was attached to the top of the dresser had a shade made of stained glass.
She sat with a sigh at the vanity and glanced into the mirror. Previous mirrors she had owned were cloudy and hard to see in. She realized that despite the three proposals, she did not find herself to be a beauty.
Disappointment ached in her heart. It’s perfectly okay that I am plain looking. I need to focus on my future and making money for myself.
It wasn’t long after she made it to her room did the train's whistle sounded and the locomotive churned to life. She leaned over to watch as her past disappeared behind her and left her alone with nothing but renewed hope for her future.