A group of young schoolgirls giggled and pointed at me as I walked past.
It was the first real stir I'd caused since I arrived in town. I looked forward to disappearing into the woodwork as I tried to figure out what to do with the book in my backpack, which felt heavier by the second.
I thought again about how it had stopped humming about the time that the Aurelia Belle disappeared into thin air on the train platform. At the moment it happened, I'd been too distracted to notice.
I also realized only now that the train had made no sound as it disappeared. There were no plumes of smoke, no chugging of the engine as it generated fire from coal and power from water. Nothing like the departure from 'my end' of the journey.
I wondered if it had to do with my presence here, if I were throwing off business as usual in this small town just by existing in it.
I thought about Seymour's warning that I couldn't miss the train when it came back. This was an era with little indoor plumbing and no access to the internet...why on Earth he thought I might want to stay, I had no idea. I couldn't wait for the month to be up, so I could just get the hell out of this place.
I wondered, too, about the passage of time on the other end of the hole. Would it go along as usual, as Seymour had indicated, and when I got back I'd have no job and find an eviction notice on my door? Lila would worry that I'd vanished just like that locomotive did. I didn't tell her, or anyone else, where I'd gone or what I planned to attempt.
God, who would feed my poor goldfish?
I calmed a little when I remembered the landlady had a key to the apartment. The rent for next month had been paid already, but she would likely go snooping around if I were missing for more than a few days.
I hoped, maybe, she'd feed little Arthur.
What was I thinking? I was stranded in a city off the map—entirely out of my timeline—with no sure way of ever getting back home, and my greatest concern was my goldfish?
I guessed, with Grandfather gone, Arthur was really all I cared about. Sure, I cared about Lila, but I knew she'd get along okay without me if I didn't make it back. Unlike me, she did have other friends and a steady girlfriend, too.
I was always the odd man out, the only one without a group to hang with. I cared little for 'hanging', anyway. I was perfectly fine with my own company. In fact, be it a fault or not, I actually preferred it to the company of anyone else.
I'm an introvert or a reclusive jerk, I guess. Probably a combination of both.
Introversion notwithstanding, I wasn't always such a curmudgeon. Back when things were right with my parents, especially my Dad. I missed our talks; they were almost as good as talks with Grandfather. In some ways, they were better. In some ways worse, because it seemed even despite his age, Grandfather better remembered what it was actually like to be young.
I found myself staring at the "Open" sign on the door of Wilson's General Store, and I paused. I looked in the window at the display. It held shaving soap and brushes and razors. God, I'd need some of those items if I were going to get rid of the light brown scruff that would certainly make me seem more and more out of place here. I didn't plan to grow a mustache or any of the other wild facial hair configurations popular in the day; no, I'd just stick with a clean-shaven face and hope for the best. It would be just one change, of many.
A large strand of sleigh bells on the door jingled merrily as I opened it. It was the most welcoming part of my reception there.
"Help you?" A stout, short man with a red face and an angry expression asked, glaring at me. It was apparent he recognized that I didn't belong right away.
"Yes, sir. I...I heard you might be hiring some seasonal help with the mail, or even in the store, and might have a room to rent. I'm ready to work hard and eager to start. I just need a place to begin."
"I see." He came out from behind the counter and circled me. "You're not from these parts, or anywhere near here."
"No, sir. But I'm out on my own, looking to make an honest living. I don't intend on settling here, just earning my way onward."
"Hmm." He frowned. "I don't like drifters."
"I understand, sir. All I ask is that you try me for a day. Making deliveries, shelving stock, anything you want. I'm young and strong and not afraid to sweat. I'm not asking you to trust me with anything valuable, just to give me a chance."
He sighed. A woman, presumably his wife, exchanged glances with him from behind the ladies' hats on the other side of the store.
"Hello," I said, waving to her. "My name is Keigan Wainwright. It's nice to make your acquaintance."
She nodded to me, but said nothing.
"And before I go to work I intend to buy. I need proper winter clothes. Some shaving tools and soap. The necessities." I figured, well at least I hoped, my boots would do. Judging by the prices posted in the window and signs in the store, it appeared I wouldn't be able to afford the rest of the things I needed to get by until my first paycheck came in. If I wanted to keep a roof over my head, I'd have to wear my own boots.
"What kind of clothes were you interested in?"
"Whatever is proper for me to work in, and a second set of clothes for after work. I have practicality in mind here. A coat, too. Like I said, necessities."
"You got any money at all?"
I nodded.
"How much?" He scratched thin hair upon the sparsely populated dome of his head. "Enough?"
I looked around at the clothing, checking prices on pairs of pants and shirts, and the shaving tools, a comb, a small pair of scissors for trimming my nails...
"I think so."
"We have some fine second-hand clothing, if you're interested," Mrs. Wilson spoke up, and her husband immediately gave her a look that sent her back into silence.
"I don't mind second-hand for a coat," I replied, "But I was kind of hoping for new on the rest."
I looked over the nearest stacks of clothes and saw that long underwear was the weekly special. It was a good thing; as cold as it was, I was going to need it.
"Long underwear, two shirts, two pairs of pants, socks, and the shaving tools. The rest will have to go to room and board. Then, as I earn more, I'll get what I can."
"I'd better see if we have anything in stock to fit you," the man finally said, still clearly uncertain whether or not he wanted to hire me, but certain he wanted me to spend money in his store.
After my purchases were sized up, recorded on a receipt, and wrapped in plain paper tied with string, I paid the man and waited, still, to hear my fate.
"Look, I am willing to try you out on the postal job and picking up here and there in the store when we need it, but I can't rent you the room. I have daughters, and..." His voice trailed off.
"Say no more, sir. I'm not from around here, I understand. Your family has to come first. I'll figure something out."
"How long are you looking to work?"
"Just through the holidays."
"Very well. You show up tomorrow morning, clean-shaven and properly dressed, and we'll give you a day's trial."
I held out my hand, and begrudgingly, he shook it. "I thank you, sir."
"Just know this, lad. Family men tend to be well armed in this town," he warned. "The Postmaster, to a greater degree. You don't want to be trying anything stupid."
"No, sir, I most certainly do not." I said, thinking the stupidest thing I'd ever done in my life up until this point was listening to the ravings of a madman and ending up in this situation to begin with. "Thank you, I will be here bright and early."
"Early!" Mr. Wilson called. "Before the sun is up! Four-thirty!"
***
I took my parcel of purchases and went on my way, back to the jewelry store. I caught Mr. Best as he was just about to turn over the 'Closed' sign.
"I got the job, Mr. Best," I reported. "At least, on trial. I did not get the room."
"Ah, not surprising. Wilson's a family man..." He stopped.
"And I'm a stranger in town, I know. With no references, no relatives here, and no way to prove who or what I am." I looked at him, wondering if my expression appeared as desperate as I felt. "I'd like to rent that room you offered before. I don't care if I have to sleep on the floor. I just need a roof over my head. Freezing out here."
I looked heavenward as the snowfall picked up.
"Well, the room isn't much more than a squeaky little bed and a bathtub," he said. "That's the extent of the indoor facilities. Everything else is out back."
"Understood."
"Six dollars a month, as I said. No refunds if you leave early."
I nodded. "Cash up front." I reached for my wallet, and he shook his head, changing his mind from his earlier position on the matter.
"We can settle up later, son. I was just about to make my supper, are you hungry?"
I was starving. "Yes, sir."
"C'mon, then. Meals come with the room."
"They do?"
"Breakfast and dinner, though you'll be up much earlier than I will, so I imagine fruit and bread will have to serve as breakfast for you. I work through lunch, most days." I followed him around the back of the building to the staircase that led to his apartment. He paused, adding, "It's enough to get by on, if you have to."
"Thank you, Mr. Best," I replied, struggling to reach for his hand to shake with the parcel and my backpack over my shoulder. He took the parcel from me and then shook my hand.
"Come along, Mr. Wainwright. We're cold and hungry. There's a warm stove and larder full of food in there. Let's go see what we can find in it."