You just missed her.” A smiling porter greeted Andrew as he ran from the terminal out onto the train platform. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the porter meant Beth or the train. Out of breath from his mad dash through the icy streets, Andrew doubled over and sucked in air.
When he looked down the tracks, he could see the 10:35 a.m. train to New York growing smaller as it left River Falls. Andrew slumped down on a bench. How could he have let this happen? The porter felt a wave of pity for the man. “Be another at one thirty,” he said.
Andrew stared up at him. The porter was tall and lean, with a perfectly groomed handlebar mustache that made him look as if he’d stepped through a wormhole from an old western town. His neat red-and-black-trimmed uniform had shiny, freshly polished brass buttons. His hat was fire-engine red with a dark brown bill; the gold chain of a watch dangled from his pocket. The metal name tag on his breast simply said “Porter.” Whether it was his name or his occupation, Andrew couldn’t fathom.
“I can’t wait that long,” Andrew said. “Is there a car rental place around here?”
The porter chuckled. “Car rental? In River Falls? No, sir. ’Fraid not.”
“Of course not,” Andrew said. He whipped out his wallet. “What about you? Do you have a car I could rent . . . or buy?” Andrew held up a wad of bills. “I have cash.”
“Mister, all I got’s an old jalopy, and she’s not for sale.”
Andrew grew more desperate. If this guy wanted to barter, he’d come to the right place. “Name your price!” Andrew peeled out three crisp hundred-dollar bills. “How about I rent it for three hundred and return it tomorrow with a full tank of gas.”
The porter grinned. “Sir . . .”
“You can trust me! Here, I’ll leave you my credit cards.” Andrew started to empty the contents of his wallet. The kindly porter raised a hand.
“Sir, even if I was willing to lend you my car, it wouldn’t make a difference. With the holiday traffic as bad as it is, it would make more sense to wait for the one thirty. The turnpike’s a parking lot all the way to Meadville. Train’ll get you home a whole lot quicker.”
Andrew nodded. “Thanks.” As he started to turn away, Andrew saw the porter lift a gold watch from his pocket and pop it open. Dangling from the chain was a fob—a large, fancy gold key.
A steady snow sifted down on River Falls as Andrew trudged through the square, his hands in his coat pockets and his eyes on the ground. He wasn’t sure where he was headed or why. He just knew he couldn’t sit still.
He passed the Forever Christmas store and cut across the square to the big fir tree where he found the twin ornaments he and Beth had placed that morning. A new wave of hopelessness washed over him. Here he was, trapped in his hometown, and Beth was moving farther and farther away from him by the moment. He took out his phone, checked to see if she’d texted him back. Nothing.
She wouldn’t answer. She’d given up on him, on them.
Andrew felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and quickly checked for a text from Beth. But instead of Beth on his phone screen, he saw Lionel’s smiling face. The text read simply, Forgiveness is divine.
Andrew deleted the message. When he looked up from his phone, he was no longer by the Christmas tree. He was standing in front of the Shady Tree Nursing Home.
Andrew found his father in the Shady Tree rec room sitting at his usual card table. Henry Farmer was all alone, save for an ancient woman in a wheelchair who had fallen asleep in front of the television. Andrew watched his old man shuffle the deck twice, then start laying out the cards for a game of solitaire. Halfway through the dealing, he paused to take a hit of oxygen. When he turned back to his cards, Andrew was standing there in front of the table.
“Andrew?” Henry looked past him, searching for Beth.
“Just me,” Andrew said. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Pull up a stump,” Henry said.
Andrew took a seat across from his father. He sighed deeply as he gathered his thoughts. Where to begin?
“Dad, I was wrong. I never should have said those things to you. I’m sorry.”
A narrow smile creased the old man’s lips. “No apology needed, son. I don’t blame you one bit. I’m the one who owes you an apology. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I heard this quote the other day: ‘There are three stages of a man’s life. He believes in Santa Claus; he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus; he is Santa Claus.’ When it came to my family, I skipped the last stage—and, for that, I’m truly sorry. Andy, I know I wasn’t there for you. I think about it all the time, and I’d give anything for a chance to do it over again, to make things right. Unfortunately, God doesn’t hand out do-overs.”
Andrew gave a grim smile. If only he knew.
“I can’t change the past,” Henry said. “I just hope and pray there’s still time, that I can be in your life somehow. Even if just a little.”
Andrew looked at his father. So this was what forgiveness felt like. Not too shabby. He put a hand on Henry’s arm.
“I’m pretty big on second chances right now.”
Henry smiled to stifle his tears. Then he winked at his son. “So how about a game of pinochle?”
“Dad, I’d like to. I really would. But I have to find Beth.”
“I messed up. I messed up bad. I really let her down, and now I think I’ve lost her.”
Henry nodded as if he understood perfectly. “You’re lucky, Andrew. All the years I spent running around, all the years out on the road, I didn’t realize how much I loved your mother until it was too late. She was gone, and I never got the chance to tell her how lucky I was to have someone as wonderful as her. It’s not too late for you, Andrew. You have time. You’ll find Beth, and you’ll make things right. She’ll understand. The two of you will have a lifetime of happiness together.”
The irony of his father’s words seared Andrew’s soul. That lifetime of happiness was quickly slipping through his fingers. His brokenhearted wife was miles and miles away.
And the clock was ticking.