Fireside by Susan Wiggs (pdf e book reader txt) 📗

AJ took his mind away from the random thoughts and focused on figuring out what to do next. There were four platforms, and a ticket kiosk and some vending machines dispensing tickets. He observed a few passengers. They would buy a ticket, insert it into a slot on a turnstile and then pass through, collecting the ticket on the other side. Once, he spotted a teenager who looked both ways, then oh-so-casually braced his hands on the sides of the turnstile and jumped over, quick as the blink of an eye.

You really had to know what you were doing if you were going to sneak on without a ticket. AJ decided against trying it. He’d get caught for sure. Better to blend in and stay under the radar. He checked out the other commuters—people talking on cell phones or checking e-mail, some making small talk with each other.

“…call me when you get to New York, okay?” someone asked. A soft, female voice.

“You know I will,” a deep voice replied.

AJ edged closer to the couple. Now he was getting somewhere. The guy was going to New York. All AJ had to do was copy everything he did and get on the same train.

The guy was a really tall black man with a shaved head, and his girlfriend was blond and pretty, pushing a baby stroller. The baby was bundled up in a fleecy blue thing, with a hood that had small animal ears attached. With pale skin and a fringe of carrot-colored hair sticking out of the hood, the baby reminded AJ of one of those staring-eyed dolls you won at a carnival.

“Take care, Julian,” the young woman said. She indicated the stroller. “Charlie and I are going to miss you so much.”

The tall guy hunkered down in front of the baby. “You take care of your mama now, okay?” he asked.

The baby made a noise and squirmed. The guy stood up. “See you around, Daisy.”

Her face turned tragic and she hugged the guy, hard and fiercely. “You will see me,” she said. “Promise me you’ll call. And write.”

“Every day,” he said, bending down and inhaling, as if he was trying to smell her hair. “I will, swear to God.”

AJ felt kind of squirmy, watching them, like he was spying on them or something. He wasn’t. He just needed to see how to get the train to New York. At least the tall guy didn’t kiss her or anything, even though he acted like he wanted to. He gave her one last squeeze and then went to a short line of people at the ticket machine. The blond girl named Daisy watched him with tears in her eyes.

Maybe, like AJ, the guy was going a lot farther than New York City.

AJ slipped into line behind the guy. His duffel bag had a label with his name: J GASTINEAUX—and a school name—Cornell University. He slid a twenty-dollar bill into the machine and punched some buttons. AJ observed his selections carefully.

The machine regurgitated some change and a printed ticket.

When it was AJ’s turn, he fed his lunch money from Bo into the machine, pushed the same buttons as the guy before him, held his breath and waited. The seconds seemed endless, but at last, the machine coughed up some change and out came the ticket with its magnetic strip. He hurried to the same turnstile the guy had used, and the ticket worked like a magic key. He half ran to catch up with the guy, who went up some stairs, across a wire-caged pedestrian bridge and down to platform number four.

There was a glassed-in waiting room, crowded with passengers. AJ wedged himself just inside the door.

Now he was forced to think about what was next. When he got to New York, then what? Did he try to make his way back to Houston? His mom wasn’t there anymore. He had a few friends, but they wouldn’t take him in, because they’d probably get in trouble. Their parents would probably worry about breaking the law or something. The reality was, he had no good option, none at all.

The train came into the station, big and boxy, in a swirl of steam. Passengers poured onto the platform and climbed aboard. AJ stuck close to Julian. He didn’t know why. Maybe because the guy had been nice to the little baby. Whatever. All that mattered to AJ was that now he was on his way.

Thirteen

Julian Gastineaux scooted over to make room for the dark-haired kid. “Go ahead,” he said. “It’s not taken.”

The kid sat down, holding his backpack in his lap.

Julian turned to stare out the train window. There was nothing to see. Daisy was long gone. Still, he could picture her perfectly in his mind, could even smell her hair.

He should have kissed her goodbye. He wished he had.

And this, of course, was the essence of his relationship with Daisy Bellamy, and had been ever since he’d first laid eyes on her one summer. Their relationship seemed, sometimes, to be made up of a series of goodbyes. Awkward ones. He spent a lot of time looking back over his shoulder, wishing he’d done something, or said something, instead of just letting her go.

When it came to Daisy, he had no sense. He was all heart and no head. So many times over the past few years, he wished his damn heart would just tell him to walk away…and stay away. His life would be a whole lot simpler if he’d surrender to circumstances. But of course, where Daisy and Julian were concerned, nothing was simple.

Stretching his long legs until his feet slid under the seat in front of him, he took out a battered paperback novel and folded it back on itself, grateful in a way for the long ride into the city. Enforced downtime. It was a rare thing in Julian’s life. Making the grade at Cornell, especially in his chosen major—Engineering and