I FEEL GOOD
“I’m glad.”
WAIT
WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!
She explained about Uncle Herbert and the Roundhouse as well as she could, but the whole time she was thinking, It’s really back. It’s really all right. Kate felt like she’d come back to life, too. She felt fresh and strong and restored.
When the train was all steamed up and white wisps of vapor were floating out of its smokestacks and pistons, the door to the cab opened and Uncle Herbert climbed in. He looked around, and his face had a melancholy expression for a moment. Like he was remembering something.
He turned to Kate and Tom.
“I wonder,” he said, “if you could give me a ride to my car.”
With a great rumbling, the whole train started turning in place. Looking out Kate saw that it was resting on an enormous turntable, almost like a record player, that could spin and point the train in whatever direction it needed to go.
When the turntable stopped, the Silver Arrow was pointed at the arched entrance to a dark tunnel.
Tom switched on the headlight and released the brakes. Kate put the reverser all the way forward and slowly opened up the throttle. She couldn’t help showing off a little. The train started to move.
“Do you mind if I—?” Uncle Herbert said shyly.
He reached one hand up toward the ceiling.
“Go for it.”
With a grin, Uncle Herbert pulled the handle and blew the whistle.
FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!
They steamed down the dark tunnel for a few minutes—then they rolled unexpectedly out into an enormous train station full of soft gray diffuse light, with a lofty ceiling of glass and wrought iron. A big clickety sign showed the names of many distant places.
They passed another train, waiting at a platform—not a full train, just an engine and a tender. A boy a little older than Kate sat in the cab, and when he saw her he waved shyly and rang his bell.
Kate did the same.
“So—we’re not the only ones?” she asked Uncle Herbert.
“There are others. Not many, not yet. But you’re not alone.”
A minute later the train burst out into the open air, and they were running fast through a twilight landscape. Trees and cars and lighted houses streamed past. It was a long time since she’d seen them—she and Tom had spent a lot of time in some very remote places. Now they were coming back to civilization.
Tom took the controls and brought the Silver Arrow chuffing and chugging up to full speed. Kate was feeling recovered enough to start thinking about everything that had happened to her and about what was coming next.
Apparently, Uncle Herbert was thinking about the same things.
“You’ve had to do some hard things on this trip,” he said. “Both of you. You worked hard. You learned new things. You made mistakes and you owned up to them. You were uncomfortable and disappointed and discouraged and scared, but you never felt sorry for yourself and you never gave up. Those are some of the hardest things a person can ever do.”
“I guess.” Kate felt embarrassed at all the praise. “I mean, they’re not harder than, I don’t know, winning a marathon or writing a symphony or whatever.”
“But that’s how people get to do all that stuff, Kate. Anybody who’s ever done something really important got there by doing the things you’ve learned to do. And if you just keep doing them, you’ll accomplish amazing things too. Things you never would’ve dreamed you could do.”
“Hey, how do you know all this?” Tom said. “Mom says you’re the laziest man she’s ever met.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Uncle Herbert said, and that melancholy look crossed his face again. “Just more the theory than the practice. I was a conductor once, too. I just wasn’t a very good one.”
He took off his hat and showed it to them. In little letters stitched on the brim it said The Twilight Star.
“So that was your train,” Kate said softly. “We found it. It’s still there.”
Uncle Herbert nodded.
“Your mother and I were both conductors, a long time ago. But we weren’t like you, we couldn’t keep going. When things got tough, we gave up.” Uncle Herbert looked down at his feet. “She doesn’t really remember—it’s like a dream to her. But I think that’s why she finds it hard to be around me. And you may have noticed she’s not too fond of trains, either.
“I couldn’t forget, though. I never stopped wanting to be a part of it. So now I help out with some of the magic. But I leave the driving to the experts.”
A half hour later they chugged back up the scary hill they’d swooped down so long ago and back through the old woods, and then Tom was slowing the Silver Arrow down in their own backyard. He stopped it on the exact same spot where they’d started, though now it was facing in the opposite direction.
There was something new in the backyard: a lighted railway clock on a lamppost, like the ones they’d seen at so many of the stations they’d passed.
“Now listen,” Uncle Herbert said. “The way this works, only a few minutes have gone by since you left. If you guys can sneak back into the house without your mom and dad hearing, they’ll never know any of this happened.”
“Really?” Kate said. “But—that’s very weird. Wait, did it all happen? It already feels kind of like a dream.”
“I promise you it happened. Here.” Uncle Herbert handed her the case with Grace Hopper’s glasses. Solemnly he gave Foxy Jones back to Tom. “It’s the realest thing that ever happened to you.”
Just to be doubly sure, Kate felt her elbow where she’d banged it right before they’d sunk through the ice. Yes: The bruise was still there.
They climbed down out of the cab. If what Uncle Herbert had said was true, then technically it was still her birthday, she thought. Not her worst birthday after all, but her best. And definitely the longest.
Kate knelt down next to the porcupine.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We never took you anywhere. Where do you need to go?”
The porcupine looked around critically.
“I suppose here is fine. Those woods we passed look promising. I’m not picky, you know.”
“You absolutely are picky,” Kate said. “You’re one of the pickiest creatures I’ve ever met!” The porcupine thought about that. “Yes, I suppose I am. I’m definitely picky about my friends.” He promised to visit soon, then ambled off into the night.
“I just can’t believe it’s all over,” Kate said.
Uncle Herbert gave her a funny look. “What do you mean, all over?”
“You know—the trip. The adventure. It’s all finished.”
“Kate, the adventure’s never over! Listen to me.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes. “Even when you’re home, even when you’re standing still, going nowhere, you’re still traveling in time. For every second that goes by you’re traveling one second into the future. Every second of every day you’re going somewhere you’ve never been before. The adventure never ends!”