Page 29 of Priceless
Minutes later, when the 10:35 train arrived, it pished even harder. And though he was conveniently ready with a brolly big enough to share, Laira Harris wasn’t on it. So, he went in search of a sausage roll to kill time before the 12:06.
She wasn’t on that one either.
He stared at his phone and willed her, with all his might, to message him, to tell him she was still on a train, to assure him he hadn’t missed her.
What if she looked nothing like the picture he’d seen on the internet? What if she’d simply changed the color of her hair? Some women did so on the regular. What if she was that brunette that had walked past him? A ginger?
How the bloody hell could he ask her the color of her hair when a bot wouldn’t give a fig? How could he justify askingwhich train she was on? How could he justify worrying about her when a bot couldn’t worry?
Should he ask and hope she never put two and two together? Should he ask and confess in the same message? At least that way, she’d be looking for him when she stepped off…
What if he just walked up to her, introduced himself, and held the umbrella over her head while she took it all in?
Waiting for yet another train might be the death of him. What if she wasn’t on this one either? He’d have no choice, really. If she didn’t materialize, and soon, he would have to reach out or go mad.
What if he only sent…a dot? What about a single dot? She would look at her phone and wonder…but at least she’d have her text open… A nudge. A wee little nudge.
Jacob woke his phone and stared at their last exchange.
Planning to get on that train to Inverness in the morning.
TTFN. Tah tah for now.
He should just trust her.
He should just wait.
1:27…
1:28…
1:29…
No sign of it. Had the rain caused a delay? They would make an announcement?—
Bells and horns sounded in the distance. An entire marching band took up the celebration in his chest cavity. The train was here. She’d be on it. He knew it.
All of it had been God testing him.
Patience. He’d learned patience. A tiny bit more than he’d had yesterday.
“Thank ye for the lesson,” he muttered.
A woman in a long tan coat. A furry collar. It had to be her. It had to!
She stepped further onto the walk, out of the main flow of traffic. Looked both ways, getting her bearings. Then she grasped her bag handles and entered the flow again. Sharp steps. Keeping up. Glancing up to find the sign for taxis. Her gaze slid past him, came back. A flicker of a second and she looked away again.
Look again, love. Look again!
Someone bumped into her and stole her attention. She smiled her instant forgiveness, then continued. After she passed, he stepped into the flow and followed her to the taxi stand where she and her bags slipped inside a black beast before he could get close.
Jacob was almost embarrassed–and well he should be–to speak the words aloud. “Follow that car.”
When the woman’staxi took her just where he’d hoped, to Bluebell House, Jacob paid his own driver and got out. It was twenty minutes later when she stepped outside again, sans luggage, and headed for the waterfront just blocks away.
He kept a full block between them, stopping now and then when he thought she might look back. Thankfully, she never did.
She crossed at Greig Street Bridge. On the other side she turned south toward Jocko’s, and his heart began to hammer. He was able to catch his breath and calm, though, when she sat down on the low wall beside the water and pulled out her phone.
