A Train Ride to Heartbreak: The Story Behind the Story
by Donna Schlachter
The idea for this story came
from a love of a movie and a friend with a great story to share.
The movie was “The Fugitive”,
both the original series pilot and the more recent remake. I loved the idea of
a train ride leading to a second chance.
My friend had recently taken
a train ride from Denver to San Francisco, and she shared several delightful
stories. I wondered if a train ride might be like a cruise in that it would provide
an insulated environment where the travelers might do something they’d never
done before. If so, this was perfect fodder for a romance, much like the old TV
show, “The Love Boat”.
And then I saw “Murder on the
Orient Express”, and as a lover of anything Agatha Christie, decided to
incorporate a few of the details in my story.
The result? A chance meeting,
two characters with integrity, and a way for God to reach both of them.
1895, Train to
California
John Stewart
needs a wife. Mary Johannson needs a home. On her way west, Mary falls in love
with another. Now both must choose between commitment and true love.
October 1895
Mary Johannson
has scars on her body that can’t compare with the scars on her heart. She is
alone in the world, with no family, no prospects, and no home.
John Stewart
is at his wit’s end. His wife of three years died in childbirth, leaving him
with a toddler and an infant, both girls. Theirs was the love of fairy tales,
and while he has no illusions about finding another like her, his children need
a mother.
Though separated by thousands
of miles, they commit to a mail-order marriage. But on their journey to
Heartbreak, they meet another and realize the life they’d planned would be a
lie. Can they find their way back from the precipice and into the love of God
and each other, or are they destined to keep their word and deny their heart?
Excerpt:
Groverton,
Pennsylvania
September
1895
Chapter
1
Mary
Johannson plunged reddened hands into the dishwater and scrubbed at a crusty
spot on the chipped china plate.
In
the yard, the vicar, shoulders slumped from the cares of his congregation, held
a small child in his arms while two toddlers clutched his pants leg. And Matron
Dominus, the imposing head of the Meadowvale Orphan’s Home, towered over the
small group huddled before her.
Mary
checked the plate. Satisfied it would pass muster, she dipped it into the rinse
bucket and set the piece into the dish rack to air dry. Next she set a burnt
oatmeal pot into the water to soak while she dried her hands on her apron and
surveyed the scene outside.
The
vicar nodded and turned to walk the gravel path he’d traversed just minutes
before, the wee ones in tow as he hoisted the child to his other hip for the
mile-long trip back. No doubt he was waiting for space to open in the
orphanage.
Her
space.
Mary
would turn eighteen in two months. And despite her desire to escape the
confines of the orphanage, she wasn’t excited about making her own way in the
world. The last girl who aged out—as the other orphans called the act of
turning eighteen—now worked at the saloon.
And
everybody knew what kind of girls worked there.
Mary
swiped at the scarred worktable set in the middle of the kitchen floor, her
washrag sweeping crumbs into her hand. She still needed to finish the dishes
and report to Matron
Dominus
for her next order for the day.
By
the time she returned to the sink, the vicar and his charges were out of sight.
But
Matron Dominus stood outside the tiny window staring in at her.
Checking
up on her, no doubt. Making certain she wasn’t lollygagging. An activity all of
the residents indulged in. According to Matron.
Mary
hurried through the rest of the washing up. She swept the floor, put a pot of
beans on to soak for supper, and shooed the cat out from under the stove. After
checking the dampers to make certain the range wouldn’t needlessly heat the
kitchen—another of Matron’s accusations—she hung her apron on a nail beside the
back door.
Stepping
out into the fresh air, Mary drew a deep breath and leaned against the
clapboard siding.
Perhaps
she could work at the seamstress shop. She was a fair hand with a needle and
thread. Or maybe the general store.
“Mary
Johannson.”
The
screech like a rooster with its tail caught in a gate startled her, and she
straightened. But in her haste, she overbalanced and stepped forward to catch
herself, hooking her toe in the hem of her dress, which she’d just let down
last week to a more respectable length.
The
sound of rending cloth filled her ears as the ground slammed toward her. She
got her hands out in front of her just in time to prevent mashing her nose into
the soil. The toes of Matron Dominus’s boots filled her vision.
Mary
pushed herself to her feet, wincing at an ache in her lower back not there a
moment before. Tears blurred her vision when she checked her dress—she had a
three-inch rip just above the hem.
“Are
you lollygagging about? Sunbathing? Do you think you’re on the Riviera?”
Despite
her imposing height and girth, the matron’s voice—particularly when she was
irked—resembled the irksome peacock Mary had once seen in the zoo in
Philadelphia. Why God would create such a beautiful bird with such a nasty
voice was beyond her.
But
if what Matron said was true, He’d created Mary, too, only to have her burned
by the flames that killed the rest of her family. Angry red scars ran from her
forearms to halfway up her neck, and a collar of white tissue, the result of an
inept doctor sewing her back together again, ringed her neck and inched toward
her ears.
No,
if God really loved her, He wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.
About Donna:
Donna lives in Denver with
husband Patrick, her first-line editor and biggest fan. She writes historical
suspense under her own name, and contemporary suspense under her alter ego of
Leeann Betts. She is a hybrid author who has published a number of books under
her pen name and under her own name. She is a member of American Christian FictionWriters and Sisters In Crime; facilitates a local critique group, and teaches
writing classes and courses. Donna is also a ghostwriter and editor of fiction
and non-fiction, and judges in a number of writing contests. She loves history
and research, and travels extensively for both. Donna is proud to be
represented by Terrie Wolf of AKA Literary Management.
Where to find Donna:
About the book:
Faith Hope
and Love Reader's Choice Finalist, Kimberly Rose Johnson, married her college
sweetheart and lives in the Pacific Northwest. From a young child Kimberly has
been an avid reader. That love of reading fostered a creative mind and led to
her passion for writing. She especially loves romance and writes contemporary
romance that warms the heart and feeds the soul.
