A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 7

Edwin tugged frantically at the post office doors. The sign said the building closed at 4:30, but it was only 4:50. He shook his head, ignoring the dryness in his mouth. Someone was still in there. They had to be.

Next to him, Harriet leaned against the simple stone column that framed the door. She was breathing heavily from the half-mile run from the train station. Her eyes were closed and her hair was wild beneath her wide-brimmed hat.

"Hello?" Edwin called, shaking the doors once again. He shook loose snow from the lintel, which drifted slowly down onto his gray coat.

"No one's in there," Harriet said. "They've left for the day."

"There has to be someone." His voice was tight and trembling. The handles trembled in his grip. "Hello?"

"Edwin." She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "It's locked. Everyone's gone until tomorrow."

His hard, flint-colored eyes darted over to her. He clutched the lapel of her coat. "You're a postal employee, right? You must have a key. You must."

She sighed heavily. "I don't work in this district, so my key doesn't work."

He blinked rapidly. His fingers released their tight grip on her coat and he took a step back, letting his hands fall limply to his side. "Oh." A sour taste in the back of his throat as the realization hit him. "I'm not getting in..."

"I'm sorry," Harriet said softly. She reached out towards him, then stopped. She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms.

The forlorn keening of the train echoed from the other side of town. Five minutes until it left. He sighed, deeply and slowly, and felt the last of his energy leave. Dizziness rushed into his head to replace his determination. He swayed and leaned against the locked doors.

"Edwin, we need to get back," Harriet said, tugging at his hand. "The train's leaving!"

A second whistle followed. It sounded like a wailing father mourning the death of a child. That shrill, barbed tone twisted in Edwin's chest, digging until he felt his heart would shatter.

Harriet let go of his hand and took off down the street. He crumpled the letter and held it to his chest. Now what? He looked at the doors, then back down the long, slushy street where Harriet ran.

A short, bitter groan and he raced after her.

The air that rushed past him was damp. It burrowed through the thin coat and deep into his bones. Sweat froze to frost on his neck. Gray, gritty slush wormed into his shoes and soaked into his socks. Tired, pallid faces turned to watch him run past, before returning to their routine.

Three blocks ahead, thick black smoke poured from the engine's smokestack. The last passengers were climbing on. They had a minute, maybe less. Edwin ran faster, passing Harriet.

His hands quivered from exhaustion and fear.  Everything was loud and crisp. The fireman shovel's scraped against the metal of the tender. The conductor's heels tapped against the stone. The crew scraped shut the luggage van door and snapped the padlock shut with a decisive click.

He ran through the station building, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor, and bolted out onto the station platform. The steaming engine stood there, ready to depart.

Jo, leaning against the wall of the station, jumped at Edwin's arrival. He hurried over. "Did you...?"

Edwin shook his head, hand pressed against his rapidly rising and falling chest. "They closed at 4:30."

Harriet burst out through the station building. "We... made it..."

Jo furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you going to do?"

"We have to go back to the city," Edwin said.

"It's the logical thing," Harriet agreed, gulping down air. "We don't have any money for food... or for somewhere to stay."

Jo nodded sharply. "I could help. There's plenty of room at the dorms. And I might have a few coins for some bread to share."

"And then what?" Edwin asked.

"Then you deliver the letter in the morning," Jo said simply. "I mean, what's two nights in the dorms for your lifelong dreams to come true?"

Edwin's breath caught. He was lighter for just a moment. "It might work."

The conductor looked at them. "You two boarding?"

Harriet looked at Edwin and wrung her hands. "Well?"

"If I go back, the letter won't be granted until next year. And who knows what will happen to me before then." Edwin looked at Jo. "Are you sure?"

Jo beamed and looked directly into Edwin's eyes. "Absolutely. I'll help however I can until you get that letter to the post office."

Edwin set his jaw and tightened his fists. "Then we stay." He turned to the conductor. "We're not getting on."

The conductor nodded and jumped onto the carriage. "All aboard!"

The whistle sounded, shrill and piercing. The battered red carriages, the last chance for Edwin to return to his normal life, rolled south towards the city. The chugging of the engine and the squealing of the wheels faded as the train rounded the bend, and soon the station was silent. The three teenagers stood still and stared down the empty track.