The following is the first draft of a novella I’m currently writing. Well, I think it’ll be a novella. I’m working from a rough outline I wrote after awaking from a dream. I plan to publish excerpts of the story as it evolves. I have absolutely no idea for a working title, so for now I’m filing it simply as “Train.”...
Leonard Morris glanced up at the clock on the wall and then removed a pocket watch from his vest. He lifted his spectacles from his nose to read the watch face and determined that the two timepieces jived with one another. No doubt about it, the train was late – again!
He was not waiting to catch the train, in fact, Leonard Morris had never ridden on a train before, nor was he expecting anyone special to arrive by train, nor was he waiting for a delivery of any sort. No, Leonard Morris was simply a man who liked things to be in order. “A place for everything and everything in its place,” and so on....On his fortieth birthday, after taking much ridicule for his lack of spontaneity, Leonard proclaimed to a gathering of his friends that he would henceforth adopt a devil-may-care attitude, and then he abruptly bade everyone a goodnight; it was nine o’clock after all, and a week night to boot.
The evening of his fortieth birthday nevertheless did have an impact on him and after much internal reflection, Leonard Morris vowed to be more spontaneous. Energized by the thought of adding more gusto to his otherwise tidy life, Leonard promptly set out to map, chart and schedule impromptu excursions like hikes up the mountain, trips to the zoo, spending sprees at the library’s used book sale and such. The calendar chock full of excitement, Leonard Morris was smugly satisfied that if he ever got the impulse to do something spontaneous, say on the eighteenth of March, he would be prepared for it.
It just so happened that on the eighteenth of March, which was just days away, Leonard had planned to spontaneously attend Lee Valley’s annual Spring Fling. For the occasion, he had dropped off his custom-made dancing boots at Tyler & Sons for resoling. They were due to be picked up that day, and Leonard quietly hoped that the cobblers did not operate their business like the Timberland Railroad Company of late.
“No way to run a railroad,” Leonard said out loud while returning the watch to his vest pocket. There was no one in the office to hear his complaint; it was Monday and his secretary Agnes, the only other person who occupied the office with Leonard, was at the post office collecting the mail.
It was a half past the hour, a sufficient passage of time, Leonard surmised, that freed him to grouse about the train being late without looking petulant. He had once overheard Agnes describe him to someone over the phone as “petty.” She was obviously still sore for being docked in pay after arriving fifteen minutes late to work, but it nonetheless hurt Leonard’s pride to be so summarily dismissed as a pettifogger. He was fastidious, perhaps, even persnickety, but never petty.
Leonard arose from behind his heavy, oak desk and grabbed his gabardine jacket and black fedora from the hall tree. He didn’t normally take a coffee break this early in the morning, but unexpected rains had dashed his impromptu hike through the forest and so he spent the weekend completing piles of paperwork, leaving him with very little to do at the moment. Besides, no one would ever imagine that he would show up at the Blue Mountain Coffeehouse before ten o’clock, and although it felt a bit scandalous, that was, after all, the whole point of being spontaneous.
He picked up a clock-shaped sign reading, “Will return,” and moved the little clock hands to 10:00 and placed it in the window where customers could read it. He gently shut the glass pane door to his office behind him and walked north on the sidewalk, passing Gloria’s Morning Glory flower shop. Gloria was at that moment attaching a flyer to the inside of her storefront window reminding customers that the annual Spring Fling was quickly approaching and that gentlemen may want to consider ordering corsages now for their dates.
“Morning, Gloria,” Leonard said, tipping his hat to florist. She smiled and mouthed something, but Leonard couldn’t hear it because of the glass separating them, but he was confident she was just responding to the greeting and walked onward.
Gloria’s voice from behind stopped him. “Leonard? Leonard?” she called out. He turned to face her. “Where are you going, Leonard?” she asked.
He was caught by surprise by such a question. “Why, I am going to get a cup of coffee.”
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.
“I most certainly do,” Leonard said indignantly. He spun around and walked briskly to the corner of the block where he found the elderly Lars Jensen sweeping the entranceway to Jensen’s Hardware. Mr. Jensen was humming lightly to himself while he swept, his hunched back turned toward Leonard.
“Good morning, Mr. Jensen,” said Leonard.
“Whoa! Good grief, my boy!” said Mr. Jensen with a jump. “You scared me half to death, Leonard. What are you doing sneaking up on people?”
“I wasn’t sneaking up on any one, Mr. Jensen. I’m sorry I startled you, but I was on my way to the Blue Mountain and I saw you there and I only wanted to tell you good morning.”
“The Blue Mountain? It’s time for your coffee break already?” Mr. Jensen asked. “I must have got caught up in a daydream or something. I hope I’m not coming down with that Old Timers disease. What time is it anyway?”
“You’re not suffering from Old Timers, Mr. Jensen. I simply decided to break for coffee early, that’s all,” Leonard said, trying to keep a smile on his face.
“Well if that don’t beat all,” said Mr. Jensen. “I never took you for a loafer, but I guess you never really know people.”
Leonard’s smile slipped completely off his face. “I am not a loafer,” he said.
“It’s none of my business, Leonard,” Mr. Jensen said. “You can spend the whole day drinking coffee if you want and it won’t mean a thing to me. It’s a free country. But I have to tell you, I’m really disappointed in you, Leonard. All these years you’ve taken your coffee breaks exactly at ten in the morning and again at two in the afternoon. Just like clockwork. You used to be a hard worker, but now all of a sudden you’re taking a break whenever you feel like it, sneaking up on people...”
“I was not sneaking,” Leonard said.
“... scaring the wits out of folks. I think maybe you’re going through some sort of phase or something. It that it, Leonard? Are you going through the Middle Ages or something?”
“Have a nice day, Mr. Jensen,” Leonard said with a nod of his head. He turned and walked across East Main Street, stepped over the railroad tracks, and crossed West Main Street to reach another row of businesses.
It had always been to Leonard Morris’ considerable consternation that the founders of Lee Valley had decided to run a railroad right down the very center of town. The town’s main street was in effect two narrow roads bordering either side of the tracks, with East Main Street on one side and West Main Street on the other. They were one way streets: East Main Street ran north and West Main Street headed south. Of course, Leonard had complained in the past to other townsfolk, but they had merely shrugged their shoulders and sighed, “What can you do?”
Copyright Donald G. Redman 2011 All rights reserved
