by Kimberly Kozubovska
The railway ticket, now worn around the edges from handling, had been Leah’s only way to her destination. Sighing, she slid down to sit on a hard wooden bench outside the cloakroom and unpinned her hat. She ignored the impulse to feel the coins in her change purse. Besides, she already knew there wasn’t enough money left if she missed her train. She did not know which platform to use or how to board the train. How foolish she had been to come alone!
With so many people at the station and trains coming and going, how could she not have found someone who could help? But everyone had been too busy to listen, and from the start, she had been too confident in her capabilities. Remembering her surroundings, she felt for the cane she had propped up next to her on the bench. But it was gone. She groped for it, trying not to panic.
People were bustling all around, but she felt the presence of someone next to her, someone who must be staring at her. “Looking for this?” the voice said, and Leah imagined he must be a gentleman perhaps a few years her elder. She felt for the cane, took it hastily, and muttered a word of thanks.
Only as an afterthought, she recalled her situation and knew she couldn’t allow the gentleman to leave. “Sir. Would you do me the favor of reading my ticket?” A strange feeling went down the back of Leah’s spine. He must have left! She felt no one was next to her.
“Of course, Miss. It would be my pleasure.” The smooth, deep voice advanced toward her. She must have spoken up just as he was leaving. “Let’s see,” he said, taking the ticket from her gloved hand. “You need platform number five, but you haven’t much time before departure. I could accompany you if you like. It happens to be my train as well.”
Leah could scarcely believe her luck. “Oh, that’s excellent news, Sir!” Though she gave no formal reply to the gentleman’s offer of service, he could not have misunderstood her intentions since she immediately busied herself with gathering her belongings.
The gentleman carried her bag in his right hand. His left arm, elbow bent, he offered Leah. He led her to platform number five, where they stood, arms unlinked, awaiting the train’s arrival in silence. Once or twice, she sensed that he must have left, and being frightened by the prospect of being alone again, she called out, “Sir?” Each time he calmly answered, “Yes, Miss, it is I.”
As they boarded the train, the porter greeted Leah, and she nodded in the direction from which she heard the voice. She noticed no greetings toward the supposed gentleman and wondered if she had been too generous in her assumptions about his character and appearance.
Nevertheless, she felt the gentleman’s hand take hold of her elbow and direct her into a compartment. And after a few overhead noises which told Leah he was stowing their baggage, he sat opposite her. With a few minutes of quietness, Leah grew nervous again. Sure, the gentleman couldn’t leave the train yet, but there would be many stops before hers. So finally, clearing her throat, she inquired, “Which is your stop?”
“The same as yours, Miss.”
Leah willed herself to remain calm, but still, she adjusted and smoothed her gloves repeatedly. She placed her hands firmly in her lap, one over the other. And then, determined to find out more about the gentleman, she began a barrage of questions, though she attempted to appear less interested than she was.
“What is your name, Sir?”
“Franz. Franz Winterfeldt.”
“Why are you traveling, Mr. Winterfeldt?”
“I am on a business journey.” His voice was incredibly smooth and soft but masculine. She decided he must be rather handsome.
“Would you like to know my name?” Leah asked.
“I already know your name, Miss Leah Schmidt.”
Leah felt her cheeks flush as she wondered how Mr. Winterfeldt knew this information. Maybe her father had hired him to accompany her on her journey after she had stubbornly refused a chaperone. She knew now that it had been a frivolous decision, but she would never admit as much. Leah’s mind rapidly conjured scenes of Mr. Winterfeldt watching her for hours at the railway station, waiting to witness her absolute despair before intervening.
“It’s written on your ticket, Miss.”
She stammered a moment, searching for words. Thankfully, the porter interrupted, but Leah was too distracted to listen. Then, finally, Mr. Winterfeldt responded to his question. And soon enough, the porter asked Leah slowly if she desired tea service. Naturally, she accepted and immediately heard the faint squeak of the porter’s shoes walking away.
Leah felt for her cane and took hold of it with her right hand, just for security. “Mr. Winterfeldt?” she said, almost timidly, after the previous mortification. And she waited a moment for a response which didn’t come. But she could feel his eyes watching her, so she continued. “You must think I am ridiculous to travel alone,” she said, her tone rising slightly at the end, making it seem more like a question.
“Not ridiculous, Miss. Prideful. That always comes first,” Mr. Winterfeldt said in a soothing voice that contrasted sharply with his choice of words.
Leah again felt the warmth rise to her face. She smoothed her long dress and then fidgeted with her gloves momentarily. “I assure you, Mr. Winterfeldt, that I am nothing of the sort.” She exhaled in a measured way so as not to appear flustered.
There was no response from Mr. Winterfeldt. Instead, Leah sensed that he was perfectly calm, which only made her agitation grow. So, finally, she decided that silent treatment, which she continued throughout the tea service, was the proper recourse.
Leah set about to rest her unseeing eyes. But, instead, she drifted uncomfortably in and out of sleep as she tried to sit as ladylike as possible. Several times she awoke only to sense that Mr. Winterfeldt had left her, and she would whisper his name in a panic. Each time the smoothness of his voice reassured her.
The train slowed uneasily and, finally, ground to a halt. Leah heard the porter pass by as he announced the station. She felt for her baggage but remembered that Mr. Winterfeldt had stowed it earlier. Though he said nothing, she could hear his movement toward the baggage area.
“This way, Miss,” Mr. Winterfeldt said as he gently took hold of her forearm to direct her toward the exit. Then she began the familiar side-to-side taps with her cane.
As soon as they were inside the station, Mr. Winterfeldt said, almost in a whisper, “There will likely be problems with my documents. So, unfortunately, I will be detained. However, I can see that your family awaits you.” She wanted to ask what he knew about her family, her suspicion arising again, but he was quickly gone.
“Dearest sister!” Leah smelled the familiar scent of David’s cologne as he kissed her cheek. “I came as soon as I received Father’s telegram. Why on earth did you come alone?”
“It was not wise, I now admit. But indeed, you saw that I was not alone. Mr. Winterfeldt kindly helped me. You must meet him before we leave. He was detained but should be along shortly.”
There was a silence, a few seconds too long. “No, Dearest, you arrived alone. Perhaps you are referring to the porter?”
“Of course not, David. I know the difference between a porter and a fellow passenger.” And just then, she remembered her luggage. “He brought my baggage inside the station. Where is it?”
“Why, the porter brought it in for you, of course!” Leah could sense the worry in her brother’s response.
“No. It can’t be! But the porter will remember him and know if he will be detained much longer. Let’s speak with him, David.”
She felt David’s apprehension, but after a moment, he agreed to bring the porter around.
As he approached, she heard the squeak of the porter’s shoes, which made only a slightly different noise on the railway station floor. “Yes, Miss?”
“Do you remember Mr. Winterfeldt, who accompanied me? You spoke with us several times.”
The porter started to say something but stopped short. “No, Miss. I’m quite sure you traveled alone.” She heard the slight shuffle of his shoes.
“But he was just here! He has been detained because of a problem with his documents. Could you find him, please?”
“No passengers were detained, Miss. There was no one by the name of Winterfeldt on the train.”
“But that’s not true!”
“Leah, please. That is enough. You are tired, Dearest.” And turning to the porter, David said, “That will be all. Thank you.”
She started to speak again, but David cleared his throat intrusively. And Leah knew there would be no further conversation about Mr. Winterfeldt.
Category: Featured, Short Story