revelation of Carol’s infidelity, the the precipice of his own unhappy choice she had to make years thoughts. He looked up at two earlier before they first got photographs, one of a small married. Would she marry him or church nestled in some someone else? If Carol’s family mountains and one of a was steeped in the railroading tree spreading its branches business, the world of politics and skyward, some rocky cliff in the the constant quest for federal or background. private funding, rules, right of way pictures. Pictures from “My wars, one railroad buying out places I’ve been on my train another, and odd schedules, long running journeys. Those hours, sometimes no work, mountains have railroads. I took sometimes too much work, never the pictures and had them framed seeing him, it was the decision so I never bought a single one. I she made. She stayed in that just had them enlarged and world, she married Brett, and the matted and framed.” journey had not always been Beautiful.” easy. He had told Laurie of a few “Beautiful! of Carol’s infidelities; her Beautiful seemed to be the schizophrenic moments, her time only word Laurie had to describe spent in psychiatric hospitals. the rest of Brett’s dwelling. The Here in this forested place, Brett kitchen even if its appliances were the locomotive engineer could older, was cheerful, plenty of light escape Carol’s confused world. came through the windows, the breakfast nook intimate, the pictures?” Laurie dining room large and welcoming, wanted to know now. “Yours? casual or formal, its sideboards, Carol’s pictures?” its comfortable chairs. Carol, said into the “Mime,” when she was well, gave parties quiet space, feeling its emptiness, for the railroad wives, younger its memories, and her simple women married to overworked question leading him away from conductors and engineers, some
revelation of Carol’s infidelity, the choice she had to make years earlier before they first got married. Would she marry him or someone else? If Carol’s family was steeped in the railroading business, the world of politics and the constant quest for federal or private funding, rules, right of way wars, one railroad buying out another, and odd schedules, long hours, sometimes no work, sometimes too much work, never seeing him, it was the decision she made. She stayed in that world, she married Brett, and the journey had not always been easy. He had told Laurie of a few of Carol’s infidelities; her schizophrenic moments, her time spent in psychiatric hospitals. Here in this forested place, Brett the locomotive engineer could escape Carol’s confused world. pictures?” Laurie wanted to know now. “Yours? Carol’s pictures?” “Mime,” said into the quiet space, feeling its emptiness, its memories, and her simple question leading him away from the precipice of his own unhappy thoughts. He looked up at two photographs, one of a small church nestled in some mountains and one of a tree spreading its branches skyward, some rocky cliff in the background. “My pictures. Pictures from places I’ve been on my train running journeys. Those mountains have railroads. I took the pictures and had them framed so I never bought a single one. I just had them enlarged and matted and framed.” “Beautiful! Beautiful.” Beautiful seemed to be the only word Laurie had to describe the rest of Brett’s dwelling. The kitchen even if its appliances were older, was cheerful, plenty of light came through the windows, the breakfast nook intimate, the dining room large and welcoming, casual or formal, its sideboards, its comfortable chairs. Carol, when she was well, gave parties for the railroad wives, younger women married to overworked conductors and engineers, some