Slow Train Coming

By Don Hasselman

Gus Bauer was a gifted senior citizen who spent his life stalled in a world of might-have-been. A chance meeting gives him the opportunity to examine his lifepast and presentand ultimately takes him in a different direction. Many things happen from that point, some of which he orchestrates, and some of which he has no control over, which serve to help him become a different person than he was. This changes not only him but also many of those around him. It is almost as though the train, which could have arrived much earlier than it eventually did, finally makes it to the station. Hence, the books title.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984546395

Don Hasselman

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Don Hasselman is an award-winning poet and writer who thought he was going to be a scientist. Upon graduating from a well-respected school in New Jersey, he pursued his dream at Lowell Technological Institute in Massachusetts. He started contributing to the school newspaper, and his chemistry professor suggested that he could be a writer. After earning his degree in chemistry and working in the industry, he went back to college and earned a masters degree and now pastors a small country church. His unusual background has given him insight that makes him both entertaining and informative. It would appear that his professor was correct.

Book preview

1

G us came back to the cabin carrying a brown paper bag. He funneled the whiskey he had just purchased into an empty Canadian Club bottle. He had learned a long time ago that not one person in ten could tell the difference, and even those who raised eyebrows were not sure enough to say anything.

That was the trouble with the world, he thought, so much pretense, so little certainty. Each passing day seemed to supply more proof that he was correct. What small satisfaction he still got in life came from people effortlessly adding ammunition to his stockpile.

He put the newly filled bottle away without having a drink. He was going fishing and knew that alcohol and boats do not mix. He always fished alone, and he was very careful.

It was no secret that Gus loved fishing, but no one was sure how good a fisherman he was. He seldom told stories about either the ones he caught or the ones that got away.

Longtime residents sometimes called him a tightwad, old buzzard, or some other deprecatory term. He had long ago convinced himself that what other people thought of him did not matter. He was confident he would die alone and not be sorely missed. The thought did not bother him.

Gus had once entertained the idea of being happy, but that was a long time ago before he lost the one love of his life. He had never been interested in another girl after Sally Henderson married Tom. He had never told her that he liked her. When Sally died before either one of them, he somehow found himself feeling even more alone. He now lived in a world of might have been.

Gus had never blamed Tom for marrying Sally. He was too honest to fault someone for doing what he would have done himself. What he objected to was that Tom’s life did not end when Sally’s did. His had ended when she married Tom. It seemed so unfair.

He almost laughed as he rinsed the funnel. It had long been an empty ritual. No one would ever see the result of his effort. He had never invited anyone to the cabin for a drink. Not that there weren’t people who would have accepted the invitation. Quite a few of the old-timers wondered what the inside of his cabin actually looked like. It would have surprised them.

Gus took great care to keep his affairs private. The tightwad had actually spent a considerable amount of money to make sure his cabin was as comfortable as possible. None of it was spent on the outside. Since he could fix just about anything and could afford to replace what he could not fix, no repairman had ever stepped over the threshold of his home. Except for the addition of his shop, the outside was the same as the day he moved in. His neighbors never imagined what was really inside the weathered exterior. It was, he reasoned, none of their business.

Gus put his tackle in the johnboat and effortlessly rowed across the lake. He needed some night crawlers and wanted to get them before Fred Billings got too busy. Gus had once considered raising his own worms but decided against it. Fred was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in the world. He had hired Gus many times over the years and had never questioned his judgment. Even when he did not have enough money, Fred had never tried to get him to lower the price or change the specifications. He simply asked for more time to pay it. Fred’s word was as good as money in the bank. Gus did not like to have to remind people they owed him money. Fred never once needed a reminder.

Gus wondered if Fred might be the one person in the world who was exactly what he seemed to be. He was one of a select group of people Gus did not mind being around. Sometimes the man almost made him laugh. Few people had ever been able to do that, none since Sally died.

As Gus crossed the lake, he glanced toward the Sanderson cabin. It was the last place he had seen Sally. She always waved to him as he went by. Perhaps a wave wasn’t much, but he missed it.

As he looked toward the pier, he thought he saw a young girl standing on it, but that was not possible. Tom and Sally had only had two children. Their son died in Vietnam. There was, as far as he knew, just one grandchild, and that could not be him standing on the dock.

He remembered the first time he saw Sally standing there. He knew immediately what it meant. She had chosen Tom Sanderson. Now he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. He deliberately looked away and pressed on toward the bait shop. He did not believe in ghosts.

Gus was relieved when he reached the landing. If anyone could get his mind off what he thought he saw, it was Fred.

Hi, Gus, Fred said as he walked in the door.

Hi, Fred. Mind if I look around?

Fred laughed. You know, and I know that you will leave this store with two dozen night crawlers.

Gus almost smiled. Fred knew him well.

Someday I might surprise you.

Fred grinned and set a container of crawlers on the counter. Gus stood, looking at the bulletin board. There was a new picture on it. It was a teenage boy standing next to a large pike.

That is some fish, Gus said. I wonder what he caught it on.

I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him, Fred said.

Ninety percent of these are useless, Gus said as he looked at a wall covered with lures. You could go broke guessing which ones work.

Fred could read between the lines. He got ready to ring up the worms, but before he had done so, a young couple walked into the store.

Hi, Jimmy, Fred said. This must be the young lady Tom was telling me about. I must apologize to him for thinking he was exaggerating.

Gus turned around in time to see the girl blush. She looked strangely familiar.

Gus, this is the young man who caught that pike.

Really? What were you using? Gus asked.

A Mepps number five, a twelve-inch wire leader and twelve-pound test.

You caught him on twelve-pound test! I am really impressed now.

Gus reached for the wall. Making his selections, he walked up to the counter with four Mepps spinners, a half dozen wire leaders, and two spools of Berkley Trilene line. He placed two twenty-dollar bills on the counter. He was sure he had seen Fred’s jaw drop. It crossed Gus’s mind that he had paid less for the materials to build the countertop than he was now spending. That was, of course, many years ago. Fred would never need another one. What Gus built was built well.

He glanced at the girl one more time before leaving the store. He thought he must be tired or something. It was just not possible.

As he rowed back, Gus glanced toward the green canoe tied to the dock. He would recognize it anywhere. It belonged to Tim Boswell. That made sense. Fred had not said Tom he had said Tim. He had just been dwelling on Tom and Sally and had heard it wrong. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Jimmy had to be one of Tim and Mary’s grandsons. Apparently, he had a girlfriend. That was a whole lot better than having the girl Gus imagined he saw at the Sanderson cabin come walking into the bait shop ten minutes later. He could try out the lures later. Right now, he needed a drink.

Gus carried his gear up to the cabin. After putting it away carefully, he made himself a ham and cheese on rye. The ham was polish, the cheese was imported Swiss, and the rye was from Community Bake Shop in Scranton. He put the remaining ham back in the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Heineken. He could afford the best and got it when he felt it was worth the difference in price.

After he had finished lunch, he poured some whisky on the rocks and sat in his La-Z-Boy rocker. He put a remastered Glenn Miller album on his Marantz stereo and fell asleep before he had half-finished the drink.

Gus awoke in the corner of his high school gymnasium. He was sitting alone. He had not asked anyone to the prom. The girl he would have asked was dancing with Tom. They seemed unaware that there was anyone else in the room. Her long brown hair flowed over the back of her blue chiffon gown. He gasped and really woke up. Something was wrong.

Gus replayed the dream while it was still fresh in his mind. The gym was perfect.

Every decoration was exactly the way it had been the night of the prom. The gown was exactly like the one Sally had worn. Even Tom looked the way he remembered him.

Then he understood his reaction. Sally’s hair was red. He had often thought he looked somewhat like Katharine Hepburn. The girl in the bait shop had rich brown hair, not the same at all. Somehow, she had invaded his dream. He realized he was perspiring.

For some unknown reason, the brown-haired girl had reminded him of Sally; he knew he was going to have to ask Tim and Mary who she was. He was not likely to sleep well until he did.

The snapshot Gus has seen in Fred’s store had identified the young man who caught the pike. He tried to make his mind remember. It was Jimmy Trevor or something like it. The name did not ring any bells. He recalled the weight of the fish well enough—six pounds thirteen ounces. It was the biggest pike he had heard about being caught in the lake in quite a few years.

Then he remembered something he had forgotten. Tom Sanderson was fishing with Tim Boswell when he caught the legendary pike of 1948. They had actually been in the same canoe Jimmy caught his pike in. He replayed the scene in his mind.

Tom and Tim had walked into Fred’s early one day in September. Tom said he left something in the canoe. Gus had thought it was strange. Tom never seemed to forget anything. He knew something was up.

Tom came back inside carrying a pike that had to be at least thirty-six inches long. It was by all accounts the largest northern anyone had ever landed at the lake. The story was that Tim had just managed to get the net down as the pike was freeing itself. Gus remembered Bill Johnson asking how come the lure was still in its mouth.

It’s not my lure, Tom had replied. That one belongs to someone else. No one had ever claimed the lure.

Gus had recognized it instantly. It was his. Of course he did not say anything. He did not want to be part of Tom’s triumphant story. He heard that Tom had asked Steve to leave the lure in the pike’s mouth when it was mounted.

Tom would never know that he had twice landed a prize that had escaped Gus. Both Sally and the pike wound up in Tom’s cabin instead of his.

Gus had not lost the fish until it was right next to the boat. If he had a fishing partner, the trophy would have been hanging on his wall. Tom was not a better fisherman. He just had more help.

Gus had to admit Tom had been most gracious. He never failed to give Tim credit for netting the fish he should have lost. Tim always responded by saying Tom was the one who had hooked it. Gus could be jealous of Tom, but he could not dislike him. Sometimes, he almost wished he could.

2

W hen Gus first saw Tim the next week, he was in his canoe fishing with Tom. As curious as he was about the brown-haired girl, he was not about to ask Tim in Tom’s presence. He decided to wait until he could speak to Tim alone. He did not want anyone to think it was important. The girl did not even look like Sally. He could not imagine why she was in his dream.

He rowed by the Sanderson cabin many times during the following week. He could not help glancing toward it. He breathed a sigh of relief each time the pier was empty. He began to convince himself that the girl on the dock had just been his imagination. He did not much like the idea that his mind was playing tricks on him, but it was a whole lot better than any alternatives he had been able to come up with. He had to wonder though. Sally had been dead for five years. Why now?

August was almost over when Gus finally saw Tim fishing alone. He figured he could manage to drift by him without it looking deliberate. The conversation had to be casual.

He realized something bothered him, but he could not quite imagine what it was, and he was awake. Then it dawned on him. Tim was in a rowboat. He could not remember ever seeing Tim in a rowboat before. He always fished in the green canoe. Still, the boat looked strangely familiar. He knew he had seen it somewhere.

Gus was finally close enough to speak to Tim.

Hi, Tim. Any luck?

Tim looked startled. Gus didn’t blame him. It was not often that Gus was the one who initiated a conversation.

Hi, Gus. Good to see you, Tim replied. Got a couple, but it seems this is Jimmy’s summer.

Gus could not believe his good fortune. Tim had brought the one person into the conversation he wanted to talk about. It was an incredible coincidence.

Is he related to you? Gus asked. I saw him in your canoe a couple of weeks ago.

No, he is not. I could wish he was though. He is a fine young man.

I didn’t recognize the name. There are not any Trevors on the lake that I know of.

Tim laughed. Actually, it is Travers, but you are right. There are not any living on the lake.

I was thinking he was one of your grandsons.

No, he is not. And truth be known, it is no longer my canoe.

But you have had it as long as I can remember. I hope you did not sell it because you needed the money.

I traded it for this rowboat.

You have got to be kidding! It has to be worth at least twice what that rowboat would sell for.

Neither one of us is kidding anyone, Gus. I am not as young as I used to be. I wanted the canoe to be owned by someone who would take care of it.

You’re not going to tell me Jimmy owned the rowboat?

Not exactly. It belonged to his grandfather.

Gus gasped. He knew where he had seen the rowboat. It belonged to Tom Sanderson. If this Jimmy was related to Tom, Gus could actually have seen that girl on the dock.

Jimmy is related to Tom?

He is Susan’s son.

The connection was complete. Jimmy was actually Sally’s grandson. No wonder the kid could fish. Gus did not need Tim to spell it out. The canoe had become the property of Tom with the understanding that it would be passed on to Jimmy when the time came. Tim was right. The canoe would be well cared for.

Take care, Gus said as they drifted away from each other.

You too, Tim replied.

Gus knew now that most of the puzzle was completed, but he was missing a most important piece. Who was the girl with Jimmy? He was determined to find out. The question was how. He was certainly not about to ask Tom.

Then he remembered Fred’s words. So this is the young lady Tom was telling me about. I must apologize to him for thinking he was exaggerating. If anyone could tell him about the girl, it would be Fred. He had a sudden urge to buy some more night crawlers.

It was quite a distance from where he was to Fred’s dock. He decided to take one of the Mepps spinners out and troll his way over. He selected a gold number 5 with a bucktail. The strike came just as he was going past Tim’s cabin. The irony did not escape Gus. While Tim had been rowing all over the lake looking for fish, a really nice northern was just a few yards from where he had cast off.

He realized quickly that the pike would provide him with more than one meal. He was also pretty sure he had set the hook well. Since he was alone, he took his time bringing it to the side of the boat. He wanted it to be exhausted when he went to net it. It was not too long before the twenty-five-inch northern was thrashing inside the boat.

As he carefully removed the hook from the barracuda-like jaws, he realized he owed Jimmy one. It had been a while since he caught a pike that large, and the teenager had told him how to catch it. He figured there would be more coming. If he happened to see Jimmy again, he would remember to thank him. Gus was not the most sociable person on the lake, but he was not above saying thank you.

He was almost at Fred’s landing by the time he had untangled the pike from the net. Upon docking, he did something he had never done before. He put the fish on a stringer and walked into the bait shop carrying it. He watched Fred’s jaw drop. He suspected it was not