A Gift to Last Page 0,13

a five-year-old entertained in conditions such as these.

Kate raced for her backpack and returned a moment later with her precious book.

"Thank you," Kate's mother whispered. "I'm Elise Jones."

"Hello, Elise. Cathy Norris."

Kate scooted onto the bench between Cathy and her mother and eagerly opened the book. She placed her finger on the first word and started reading aloud with a fluency that suggested this was a much-read and much-loved story.

Cathy smiled down on the little girl. Soon all this frustration and delay would be over. Mr. Kemper would come out from behind his desk and announce that the tracks had been repaired and they'd be on their way. In a few hours she'd be with Madeline and her family, all of this behind her. Somehow, listening to Kate read soothed her, made her feel that today's problems were tolerable. Inconvenient but definitely tolerable.

Kate's voice slowly faded and her eyes closed. She slumped over, her head against Cathy's side. Seconds later the book slipped from her lap and onto the floor.

"Oh, thank heaven, she's going to take a nap, after all," Elise whispered, getting carefully to her feet. She lifted Kate's small legs onto the bench and tucked a spare sweater beneath her head.

"Children can be quite a handful," Cathy murmured, remembering the first time she and Ron had watched their two granddaughters for an entire day while Madeline and Brian attended an investment workshop. The kids had been picked up by four that afternoon, but she and Ron went to bed before eight o'clock, exhausted.

"Being a single mother is no piece of cake," Elise told her. "When Greg and I divorced, I didn't have a clue what would happen. Then he lost his job and had to manage on his unemployment check. He just started working again - but he's so far behind on everything. Now he's having trouble making the child-support payments on time, which only complicates things." Embarrassed she looked away as if she regretted what she'd said. "We wouldn't have Christmas if it wasn't for my mother. I certainly can't afford gifts this year."

The pain that flashed in the younger woman's eyes couldn't be hidden. Cathy realized that, in many ways, Elise's divorce had been as devastating as a death. Feeling a kinship with her, she reached over and squeezed her hand.

Elise recovered quickly, then said with forced enthusiasm, "I've always wanted to know how to knit."

"Would you like me to teach you?" Cathy asked, seizing upon the idea. She'd successfully taught her own three daughters and carried an extra set of needles in her knitting bag. Now was ideal, seeing as they had nothing but time on their hands and Kate was sleeping.

"Now?" Elise asked, flustered. "I mean, I'd love to, but are you sure it isn't too much trouble?"

"Of course not. I've found knitting calms my nerves, especially these past few months since my husband died."

"I'm sorry about your husband," Elise said, real sympathy in her voice.

"Yes, I am, too. I miss him dreadfully." With a sense of purpose Cathy reached for her spare needles. "Would you like to start now?"

Elise nodded. "Why not?"

Cathy pulled out a ball of yarn. "Then let me show you how to cast on stitches. It isn't the least bit difficult."

Len had trouble not watching the clock. They'd been in Abbott a total of four hours, with no further word regarding their situation. The stationmaster, Clayton Kemper, had turned out to be a kindhearted soul. He'd made a fresh pot of coffee and offered it to anyone who wanted a cup, free of charge.

Len had declined. Stressed as he was, the last thing he needed was caffeine. Plenty of others took advantage of Kemper's generosity, though. They were a motley group, Len noted. The widow, dressed in her gray wool coat with her knitting and her sad but friendly smile. The divorced mother and her little girl. The grumpy sales rep. The young couple with the baby, the hippie and his wife, the elderly black couple plus an assortment of others.

Kemper walked by with the coffeepot on a tray. "You sure I can't interest you in a cup, young man?"

"I'm sure."

"I found a deck of cards. How about that?"

Len nodded eagerly. "That'd be great." Cards would be a welcome way to pass the time. He sometimes played solitaire and enjoyed two or three different versions of the game. At the mention of cards, the sales rep, who sat close by, looked up from his laptop. Maybe Len could talk two or