A/N: What are you doing, reading this chapter today? Go look at the pictures of Jim and Phyllis kissing on Tumblr. That never gets old. :)

A train heading west in Illinois, April 1883

"Mr. Carson! Guess what?" Georgie bounced up and down on the seat next to him. Charles wondered where he got his energy.

"What?" He leaned against the window.

"I get to blow the whistle! Dad's going with me. The con-condacker's gonna let me pull the lever!"

"Who?"

"You mean the conductor, Georgie." Nellie leaned across the aisle where she was teaching Josie multiplication sums. "Please sit still. Mr. Carson may want to rest." She gave Charles an apologetic shrug. He smiled back.

"Mrs. Cohan, I never get much rest on trains. I shall endure until we arrive," he sighed dramatically. He didn't want to mention how little sleep he had had the night before they left. Nellie laughed as Josie began reciting the five times table. Jere appeared through the doorway to the next car.

"George! Are you ready? Mr. Smith is ready now." His son was out of his seat and down the aisle almost before he had finished speaking. Charles leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Pa-dum-pum. PA-dum-pum. Pa-DUM-DUM-pum. Pa-dum-PA-dum-pum.

He woke as the train slowed down. Stretching his arms and yawning, he glanced out the window.

"So you don't get much rest on trains?" Alice stood in the aisle, holding onto the seat. Behind her, the female Cohans grinned. Josie pointed straight at him.

"You were snoring! Louder than the train!"

"Was I?" Charles didn't feel fully awake yet.

"You were," Alice bit her lip in amusement. "Maybe not as loud as the train, but certainly loud enough for us to hear you on the other side of the car."

At that moment, the whistle was blown with significant gusto. Charles held his hands over his ears, but it didn't help to keep out the noise. Alice gestured to the seat next to him. He patted it, and she sat down, holding her own ears. Finally, the train slowed almost to a crawl, and the whistle blissfully stopped.

"Well, he got to blow it to his heart's content," Charles said. "I'm sure he's happy." Alice cautiously lowered her hands.

"Georgie?" He nodded.

"You have more patience than I do, Charlie." She pressed her fingers to her forehead.

"Are you all right?" He didn't want to worry, but she did look pale.

"I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"Well, you don't look fine. I'll get a powder-". He started to get up, but she put her hand on his sleeve. Shaking her head, she folded her hands in her lap.

"I'll take one when we get there. Really, I'll be fine. I'm sure it's just the change in the weather." He sat back down reluctantly. It was true, it had been colder in Cincinnati. They had traveled through a wicked thunderstorm, and now found themselves crossing Illinois in what was clearly spring.

"The trees are all budding. It's so nice to see some color!" A dimple showed in her cheek as she looked out the window. She caught him staring and they both looked in different directions.

She sighed, breaking the awkward silence. "I wish we were going to be on the train for longer."

"That's something not many would say."

Rolling her eyes, she ran her hand over the brim of her hat. "I don't mean that I love the train. But I'd love to go to San Francisco."

He raised his eyebrows. "You can't be serious. All the way to California? In heaven's name, why?"

"Why not?"

"Well-" he fought between wanting to share his full opinion versus wanting to continue the peace they had shared for several weeks. "Don't you ever get tired of going from one place to another? I should think it would be nice to stay in one place for a while."

"Not really," she pursed her lips. He held his breath. "I like to travel. It's always exciting to see new places, experience new things. Besides, the last thing I want to do is get stuck somewhere. Then I really would end up like my mother." She shuddered. "That's a fate worse than death, for me." She frowned, brushing off her skirt as the train began to move again. "I thought you liked to travel. At least, isn't that what you said a few weeks ago?"

"I said I found it tolerable." He emphasized the last word. "And while it is agreeable to occasionally set one's eyes beyond the horizon, surely it is man's natural state to want to settle somewhere."

"Are you saying to want to settle in St. Louis?" She looked incredulous.

What? "Why would I want to stay there? I was merely saying that most people do not wish to spend their life moving from place to place."

She shook her head, but thankfully, she was smiling again. "You speak about wanting to stay in one place, then you wonder why I ask if you want to stay in the very next place we're going. And I don't know if you've noticed, but here in the United States, a lot of people spend their entire lives moving."

"Fair enough," he said softly. If he were to speak the truth, he found it refreshing to return to a place where they had stayed for a length of time. After never staying in one city longer than a week or two during the winter, he relished the thought of fully unpacking his trunk again. But he would never say this to her; he was sure she would take it the wrong way.

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St. Louis, the next morning

He whistled as he hurried back to the theater. Surely they hadn't started yet. He had gotten up earlier than normal to make sure he could go on his errand before the company was expected to rehearse.

Stepping quickly through the side door, he was relieved to hear the others in the dressing rooms. He knocked quietly and entered when he heard her voice.

"Good morning, Miss Neal. You're looking much better today." She smiled at him in the mirror, then gasped at the sight of what was in his hands. She leapt up from her chair, nearly turning it over.

"Oh, Charlie! They're beautiful! Where did you get them?" She took the various blossoms from him, and set them in an empty vase. He knew his smile was too wide to be proper, but her happiness made him ebullient.

"There is a rather large farmers' market near here," he explained. "I thought a pretty lady deserved some color in her dressing room."

Her face reddened. "The pretty lady is very thankful."

They stood facing each other for a moment, then he cleared his throat. "Should we go?"

"Yes, just a moment," she reached for a pin to hold an errant strand of hair in place. He held the door open for her and they made their way backstage. Coming out from the wings, there was a commotion. Stage hands lowered sets while Eugene shouted directions. Georgie and Josie chased each other back and forth in the aisles, climbing under seats. Grigg also sat in the theater, his hat half over his face and his feet up on the seat in front of him. Josephine and Jamie tuned their violins. Someone trilled a fantastic chord on the piano, then began playing the first notes of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody.

Charles jerked his head to find Peter Avilov sitting behind the instrument. As he played, the noise and movement around him slowed. Alice brushed by Charles and sat down in the front row. His heart sank as he noticed her thin lips, her dark expression. Josephine left the stage and joined her. To Charles's surprise, she looked as dismayed as Alice. He leaned over and whispered to Jere, who motioned his children to sit down.

"What's wrong with Miss Carter? I thought she got along with Mr. Avilov." Jere shrugged in response. They waited until Peter had finished before applauding. Charles looked at Alice, a question in his eyes. She shook her head, crossing her arms.

Well, he was not going to be rude. No matter how much the man reminded him of the past. He went over to the piano to find Jamie already there.

"Mr. Avilov, it's nice to see you again," he said, shaking the older man's hand. A genuine smile lit up Peter's face as he stood up.

"It is very good to see you, Mr. Carson."

"Your English has improved," Charles said.

"Yes, thank you." He nodded. "I had some lessons during the winter. I wanted to speak better."

"And how is your family? All well?" Jamie asked. Peter removed his spectacles, cleaning them with his handkerchief.

"Yes, all well, all very well. My oldest son Vasili is engaged to a young woman who lives in the city. Her family is from Vladivostok. My wife is happy she is Russian." His eyes twinkled.

"Congratulations," said Jamie, exchanging an amused glance with Charles.

"Thank you. And my daughter Penelope has been – how do you say? – very popular this winter and this spring."

"Oh?" Jamie asked. "Is she engaged, too?"

Peter shook his head, his long blond mustache brushing his bare chin. "No. But soon, we think."

Charles sat on the edge of the bench and pretended to clean his shoe. He did not want to give Alice the impression he was wholly interested with Peter or his family. And he wasn't. He did not wish them ill, but their lives did not concern him.

"…the young man is very nice, but he is not Russian and my Natalya, my wife is not happy."

Jamie leaned against the piano and plunked the lower keys. "What about you? Are you happy with him? Do you tell your children that they must only be with Russians?"

"I like him," Peter said decisively. "If my children are happy, I am happy. God did not make us Russian, American, French-".

"Certainly not French," Charles muttered. He moved over to give Jamie room to sit on the bench. Jamie choked back a laugh.

"-my friend Mr. Hughes, the one who helps with my English, says the same. A man who is not Scottish courts his daughter-"

The corner of the piano bench slipped underneath Charles, and he fell hard onto the stage. He quickly rolled onto his side and winced. It felt like he had fallen right on his tailbone. He stood up slowly, smoothing his trousers. No one seemed to make much of it. Neither Alice nor Josephine looked up from the discussion. He let out a long breath.

"Are you all right, Mr. Carson?" Peter did not seem very worried. Jamie raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Perfectly all right." Charles went down the stairs and sat two seats over from Alice. He was grateful the front seats had cushions.

"What did he say?"

Charles shrugged. "He is well, his family is well. His oldest son is engaged."

"Oh, that's nice." Alice smiled at him, showing her dimples, then returned to her whispered conversation.

They were getting along so well. He was cautious, wanting to move faster, but not wanting to push her. She was thrilled when he gave her little gifts, like the flowers. He was content to make her happy.

Miss Avilov was almost engaged. And it seemed her friend Miss Hughes would be soon, as well. All the best to her.

So why did it bother him?