12. Viola
Viola
Ajolt snapped through me. Metal groaned. Why was my bed rocking? Vibrating. A heartbeat of confusion—then truth.
The train.
My bed was impossibly far away. Everything was. I pushed myself upright on the too-short settee, rolled my shoulders, then rose to stretch the stiffness from my legs. At least Grieg was no longer tormenting me.
The faintest hint of peach light in the eastern sky drew me to the back window like a moth. I remembered standing on the back platform beside Father on my last trip, gazing at the open sky. Exhilarating. Father. I sighed. Please forgive me. I know I handled this badly… but you left me no choice.
The metal handle stung like ice against my fingers. Should I stay inside? Dawn beckoned. I unlatched the rear door. The roar of the wind greeted me as I stepped onto the small observation platform at the back of our car.
I grasped the waist-high railing, cool and slick with morning dew.
The wind tore at me, driving me back against the car for shelter.
Cool gusts rushed up my legs and filled the skirt of my nightdress until it billowed like a bell, ringing in the early morning.
Silly to be out here in my nightclothes…
I shivered and pulled my robe tighter. Mist swirled in the train’s wake, curling into filmy tendrils, carrying the scent of fertile loam and wet grass. Someday, my land would smell like this.
The train slowed. Must be a station ahead.
My muscles sagged. I pressed my cheek to the closed door. Goosebumps rose on my arms. With half-closed eyes, I admired the sunrise of pink, yellow, and purple.
A stand of tall trees along the north side of the track reached toward me as I swept past. Through their branches, I glimpsed the sunrise reflected on a quiet prairie lake.
Past the trees and the lake, a massive hill rose steeply skyward.
A lone windswept tree crowned the top, marking the highest point for miles.
But the tree wasn’t alone. I shifted for a better view, and the shape beside it resolved into a man, outlined against the morning sky. What brought him to the top of the hill so early in the day? Was he watching the sunrise or the train?
A strange prickle crawled up my spine.
Beneath my feet, the train lurched. The platform shifted.
Slipping.
My grip slid across wet metal.
Tilting.
Sky spinning.
No time to scream.
Then—nothing.