“Carson, get back here! Who are you playing with?” Carson’s mom called, looking up from her knitting.
“My friend, his name is Toby, and he’s riding in the passenger car,” Carson said. “Can I go?”
“Don’t be a pest and stay where I can find you,” mom agreed. “Don’t go into anyone’s sleeping compartment!” she added.
Later that
night at dinner, Carson appeared thoughtful at the dinner table. Mom
straightened his tie and tucked the cloth napkin into his shirt collar.
“What’s on your mind,” mom asked.
“Oh, my friend Toby, his mom kind of lost it,” Carson said after a moment.
“Oh, how so?” mom asked.
“She got upset with Toby for following me to our berth,” Carson explained.
“You were told not to leave the passenger car,” dad scolded.
“Yes sir, but
we wanted to play with my wooden horses. So we left for a few minutes to
get them. Toby saw that one horse had a broken leg and he took it to
his father to fix,” Carson said, returning to his place of
contemplation.
“I don’t understand, were you rude to his parents?” dad asked.
“No, but he
asked Toby a lot of questions about where he found the horse and who it
belonged to, stuff like that. He said the horse was hand carved and
old,” Carson said, shrugging. “He made Toby leave with his mother and
said he would give the horse to the purser.”
“What makes you think his mother was upset?” mom asked.
“She wouldn’t let Toby play with me anymore, and they rushed him off to their berth,” Carson explained. “So I assumed…”
“Bud will you
talk to the purser and get Carson’s horse returned, please. Carson,
after dinner, I want you to go shower and get ready for bed. We’ve
talked about you lending your toys to your friends. This is what can
happen,” mom said.
“I’m sorry
ma’am, it won’t happen again,” Carson said, nodding. He left the table
and ran down the corridor to the sleeping car he shared with his
parents.
The next
morning, dad handed Carson his hand carved, wooden horse, “Here you go
son, don’t lose it again. I don’t know if the purser will save it next
time,” dad said, closing Carson's fingers around the horse.
“Hey, dad, the leg is fixed. Who fixed it?”
“I believe it was Toby’s father,” he said.
“I should thank him,” Carson said, running off to the dining car.
“Carson wait! Son,” dad called and chased after Carson.
As Carson
pushed the door open to the dining car, he noticed every table was full
of passengers having their breakfast. Carson scanned the train for his
mother, but she was not at their table. Instead, he recognized Toby’s
father sitting in his usual chair. He ambled up to the table and set the
horse down above the plate.
Toby’s mother’s
eyes popped open wide and gasped, she jumped up. Toby stared into
Carson’s face with a smile, and his father reached for the horse. “Where
did this come from? It wasn’t there a second ago,” Toby’s father
gulped.
“I wanted to
thank…,” Carson began to say, but was interrupted by Toby’s mom’s
screaming and rushing from the dining car. Toby’s father dropped the
wooden horse into his plate of half-eaten food and grabbed Toby by the
hand. He dragged Toby from the dining car, after his mother. The rest of
the patrons screamed, leaving their meals, and rushing out of the train
car.
“How many
times, must I tell you, son… You can’t speak to the living, they don’t
understand,” dad said, picking the horse out of the plate of eggs and
hugging his son.
