1,341
New character! So maybe I didn't actually go back and edit anything, but she still fits right in.
Emma sat in the station waiting while Mr. Hopkins checked the timing of their connection. They had left the Davenport station that morning, heading in a southerly direction for almost three hours. The train traveled about sixty-five miles an hour, and any thoughts Emma had of seeing the countryside vanished. It was going to be a long trip, but it could be made in one day if the trains were on time. If they had been going by stage it would have taken almost three days, not just one. It was roughly an hour’s wait the first time they stopped, before they were off again running west. That trip had been a bit over two hours and was actually the shortest leg. This was the second stop, but the train that would take them to the city where they would stay for the next couple of months had been delayed. They had waited at the station for an hour, headed out to get something to eat at a local pub, and returned and waited another two hours. She couldn’t see anything out the dark windows of the station. Looking back over her shoulder to Mr. Hopkins, she stood and slipped over to the door. She leaned against the frame feeling the humid air cooling as it faded into night. All of the same constellations could be seen from here as she had seen them from the attic window. They were not in the same places in the sky, but they were close enough together that she could still see them all. She stood there gazing up until Hopkins came and laid a hand on her shoulder. He had the astronomy book that she had left lying on the seat when she stood.
“We will get you a watch and sextant, and you will be able to tell exactly where we are on any map.” He shook his head, and turned back inside. Thinking he was out of earshot he spoke aloud. “Perhaps the tutor I have lined up can interest her in studies more suited for a lady. Some needlepoint or painting or musical studies might be better than this. Painting would probably be good, her father...” His voice trailed off as he actually did move out of hearing range. Emma considered what he had been saying for a moment. Her mother had been working to keep them fed and had not had much time to teach her ladylike behavior. She had grown up playing with Judah and whoever he happened to be playing with, though it was mostly Archer. Neither of the two boys had treated her differently because she was a girl. She had heard the term tom-boy before, and thought she must be something like that. Playing with dolls or sitting under a window working on a sampler had never been interesting to her. As far as she could remember, the only time she sat still for an extended time was when she had been watching her father paint. There were also the times she would sit reading, but she did not count them. Learning to paint was probably the only thing she would be interested in, and only because it would remind her of her father. He had not made much from his work, but he had loved it, and it had been enough for them to live by. A low whistle could be heard, and she looked up the tracks to where their train was now coming in. It would be another trip lasting about four hours, and then they would be home. She turned back inside, gathering up her few things before heading to the platform with Mr. Hopkins. The train was not very crowded, and they sat in a small compartment like booth. Mr. Hopkins set their bags on the end of one bench, with Emma sitting beside them, and he sat down across from her. He told her to try and get some sleep as it would be late when they got to the house, and he knew she would want to look around a bit before heading off to bed. She leaned over against the bags, using them as a pillow, and closed her eyes. She stayed that way for some time, but sleep didn’t come. Soon the steady breathing of the older man told her he had taken his own advice and was now napping. She sat up and looked across at him. His head had slumped forward and now rested against his chest. She turned to the window and stared at her reflection. It wavered for a moment, and then another face appeared. Emma leaned back a little as it was followed by the childlike body. She sat atop the bags sitting under the window just looking at Emma. She was very light skinned, with light blonde hair falling around her face. Her blue eyes were framed in long lashes, with bits of gold dusting around her entire face. A pair of wings, mostly blue with little touches of maroon and dusted in gold, was barely visible under her hanging hair. Her face was almost expressionless as she looked at Emma. “You are pouting.”
“Hello Autumn.” The appearance had not surprised Emma. She had known about Autumn Breeze since she was five, although she had no clue how old Autumn might be. She had told her mother the very first time they had met, but her mother assumed Autumn was just an imaginary friend. Her father did not believe Autumn was real either, but he let Emma name the ship after her. In fact, everyone she had told about Autumn had thought she was imaginary, and Emma had stopped talking about seeing her. Autumn was very much like her name in that she would come for a short burst of time, and then would disappear without warning. Emma continued “I was not pouting, I was thinking about Judah.”
“I could check on him if you want.” Her face had taken on a reflection of the look on Emma’s. She brushed some of the hair away from her face, and shifted a little to face Emma more.
Emma shook her head “I will see him again soon.” They would be returning to Davenport in late winter or early spring of the next year, and she could write to Judah until then. The conductor peaked in and asked if everything was alright. She nodded without turning. Autumn snorted, and looked out the window. He, like so many others, was unable to see or hear Autumn. He asked Emma if she wanted something to drink, so she asked if he had water. He smiled “Yes, I do have water.” He looked across the confined space to Hopkins. “If you are looking for something a little more relaxing, I could also get you some milk.” She smiled a little and nodded again.
As he left Autumn met Emma’s eyes mirrored in the window “You are still pouting.” She turned back to search Emma’s face. Emma did not answer this time. “Now you are trying to avoid talking.” Emma shrugged her shoulders just a little, and then they both looked across as Hopkins’ head lolled to the side and he bounced it back upright. He had not been fully awakened, just became aware of the weird angle of his head. In less than a minute he began to slump forward as before. Autumn’s gay little laugh filled the room, and Emma giggled. The conductor returned with a slightly steaming cup which he handed to Emma before wishing her a goodnight. She held it for a moment, and then brought it up to her nose. Brandy milk. She suppressed another giggle as she looked up at Autumn. Autumn shook her head slowly, making a chiding noise. As Emma drank it, Autumn moved down to the seat beside her, and placed her arm around Emma’s shoulder. The milk worked quickly, and as Emma drifted off to sleep Autumn slid her over to lean against the luggage again.
Emma sat in the station waiting while Mr. Hopkins checked the timing of their connection. They had left the Davenport station that morning, heading in a southerly direction for almost three hours. The train traveled about sixty-five miles an hour, and any thoughts Emma had of seeing the countryside vanished. It was going to be a long trip, but it could be made in one day if the trains were on time. If they had been going by stage it would have taken almost three days, not just one. It was roughly an hour’s wait the first time they stopped, before they were off again running west. That trip had been a bit over two hours and was actually the shortest leg. This was the second stop, but the train that would take them to the city where they would stay for the next couple of months had been delayed. They had waited at the station for an hour, headed out to get something to eat at a local pub, and returned and waited another two hours. She couldn’t see anything out the dark windows of the station. Looking back over her shoulder to Mr. Hopkins, she stood and slipped over to the door. She leaned against the frame feeling the humid air cooling as it faded into night. All of the same constellations could be seen from here as she had seen them from the attic window. They were not in the same places in the sky, but they were close enough together that she could still see them all. She stood there gazing up until Hopkins came and laid a hand on her shoulder. He had the astronomy book that she had left lying on the seat when she stood.
“We will get you a watch and sextant, and you will be able to tell exactly where we are on any map.” He shook his head, and turned back inside. Thinking he was out of earshot he spoke aloud. “Perhaps the tutor I have lined up can interest her in studies more suited for a lady. Some needlepoint or painting or musical studies might be better than this. Painting would probably be good, her father...” His voice trailed off as he actually did move out of hearing range. Emma considered what he had been saying for a moment. Her mother had been working to keep them fed and had not had much time to teach her ladylike behavior. She had grown up playing with Judah and whoever he happened to be playing with, though it was mostly Archer. Neither of the two boys had treated her differently because she was a girl. She had heard the term tom-boy before, and thought she must be something like that. Playing with dolls or sitting under a window working on a sampler had never been interesting to her. As far as she could remember, the only time she sat still for an extended time was when she had been watching her father paint. There were also the times she would sit reading, but she did not count them. Learning to paint was probably the only thing she would be interested in, and only because it would remind her of her father. He had not made much from his work, but he had loved it, and it had been enough for them to live by. A low whistle could be heard, and she looked up the tracks to where their train was now coming in. It would be another trip lasting about four hours, and then they would be home. She turned back inside, gathering up her few things before heading to the platform with Mr. Hopkins. The train was not very crowded, and they sat in a small compartment like booth. Mr. Hopkins set their bags on the end of one bench, with Emma sitting beside them, and he sat down across from her. He told her to try and get some sleep as it would be late when they got to the house, and he knew she would want to look around a bit before heading off to bed. She leaned over against the bags, using them as a pillow, and closed her eyes. She stayed that way for some time, but sleep didn’t come. Soon the steady breathing of the older man told her he had taken his own advice and was now napping. She sat up and looked across at him. His head had slumped forward and now rested against his chest. She turned to the window and stared at her reflection. It wavered for a moment, and then another face appeared. Emma leaned back a little as it was followed by the childlike body. She sat atop the bags sitting under the window just looking at Emma. She was very light skinned, with light blonde hair falling around her face. Her blue eyes were framed in long lashes, with bits of gold dusting around her entire face. A pair of wings, mostly blue with little touches of maroon and dusted in gold, was barely visible under her hanging hair. Her face was almost expressionless as she looked at Emma. “You are pouting.”
“Hello Autumn.” The appearance had not surprised Emma. She had known about Autumn Breeze since she was five, although she had no clue how old Autumn might be. She had told her mother the very first time they had met, but her mother assumed Autumn was just an imaginary friend. Her father did not believe Autumn was real either, but he let Emma name the ship after her. In fact, everyone she had told about Autumn had thought she was imaginary, and Emma had stopped talking about seeing her. Autumn was very much like her name in that she would come for a short burst of time, and then would disappear without warning. Emma continued “I was not pouting, I was thinking about Judah.”
“I could check on him if you want.” Her face had taken on a reflection of the look on Emma’s. She brushed some of the hair away from her face, and shifted a little to face Emma more.
Emma shook her head “I will see him again soon.” They would be returning to Davenport in late winter or early spring of the next year, and she could write to Judah until then. The conductor peaked in and asked if everything was alright. She nodded without turning. Autumn snorted, and looked out the window. He, like so many others, was unable to see or hear Autumn. He asked Emma if she wanted something to drink, so she asked if he had water. He smiled “Yes, I do have water.” He looked across the confined space to Hopkins. “If you are looking for something a little more relaxing, I could also get you some milk.” She smiled a little and nodded again.
As he left Autumn met Emma’s eyes mirrored in the window “You are still pouting.” She turned back to search Emma’s face. Emma did not answer this time. “Now you are trying to avoid talking.” Emma shrugged her shoulders just a little, and then they both looked across as Hopkins’ head lolled to the side and he bounced it back upright. He had not been fully awakened, just became aware of the weird angle of his head. In less than a minute he began to slump forward as before. Autumn’s gay little laugh filled the room, and Emma giggled. The conductor returned with a slightly steaming cup which he handed to Emma before wishing her a goodnight. She held it for a moment, and then brought it up to her nose. Brandy milk. She suppressed another giggle as she looked up at Autumn. Autumn shook her head slowly, making a chiding noise. As Emma drank it, Autumn moved down to the seat beside her, and placed her arm around Emma’s shoulder. The milk worked quickly, and as Emma drifted off to sleep Autumn slid her over to lean against the luggage again.