“Sorry, missy,” he said, “this is as far as I go.”
“Maybe you should drop us off back by the highway,” Suzanna suggested. “It’d be easier to catch a ride.”
He shook his head, not letting his eyes meet hers.
“Not a good idea,” he said. “With a sweet little girl like Annie, you ought not be hitchhiking. You got lucky this time, but there’s no telling what…” As his words drifted off, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a billfold, and handed Suzanna a 20-dollar bill. “This here’s enough for a bus ticket—”
“I’m not looking for charity!”
“And I’m not giving any. I just don’t want it on my conscience if something happens to one of you.” He pushed the 20 dollars into Suzanna’s palm then grinned. “There’s probably a northbound bus leaving sometime today, and you’d be a lot better off taking that than chancing it on the road.”
Suzanna hefted her suitcase from behind the seat, then stood watching as he drove off.
With his 20 dollars and the 18 dollars she’d taken from Earl’s pocket, she had enough for a bus ticket but money would still be tight. They had a thousand miles yet to go; they’d have to eat, and if Gladys wasn’t around they’d need a place to stay, a motel room maybe. Taking those things into consideration, 38 dollars didn’t seem like very much.
With Annie’s hand in hers, Suzanna reluctantly walked into the bus station. At least they could freshen up in the ladies’ room. Then, depending on cost and scheduling, they’d either buy a bus ticket or start hoofing it back toward the highway.
——————
AS SUZANNA STOOD AT THE ticket window, the clerk adjusted his glasses and peered across the counter. Glancing down at Annie then back to her, he said, “Fourteen-forty for an adult. She rides for free.”
As she was digging through her pocket for the singles she’d taken from Earl, he added, “Next bus is tomorrow, 10:30 a.m.”
“Tomorrow? You don’t have one leaving today?”
“Afraid not. The New York-New Jersey bus is once a day, 10:30 a.m.”
“What about if we’re willing to make a transfer?”
He shook his head. “Too late. The last northbound passed through 11:15. The only others we’ve got today are a 4:30 headed for Chicago or a 6:15 to Omaha.”
“No thanks,” Suzanna said and turned away.
“You want the New Jersey ticket?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
She walked to the far end of the waiting room and plopped down on a bench; Annie sat beside her. With the sun blistering hot, the walk back to the highway would be a long one, but sitting in the bus station overnight was not much better. Besides, they hadn’t eaten all day, and she could hear Annie’s stomach rumbling.
She looked down with a half-hearted smile. “You’re hungry, aren’t you, baby?”
Annie nodded. “Starving.”
As Suzanna sat there considering which was the better of the two really bad options, she spied a flyer left lying on the bench.
William G. Parker MEMORIAL LUNCHEON the heading read, and beneath it was the photo of an elderly gentleman. The copy went on to list all of the man’s achievements then said that anyone who had ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with William Parker was invited to attend. The luncheon was to be an open-house buffet held at the Elks Club on Main Street.
Open-house buffet?
Suzanna called over to the ticket window. “Is this Main Street?”
When the clerk nodded, she inquired how far it was to the Elks Club.
“Two blocks down, right hand side of the street,” he answered.
Believing that providence had for once stepped in and was squarely on her side, Suzanna smiled. Fifteen minutes later, they walked out of the station with her wearing the one dress she’d thought to pack and Annie outfitted in a fresh pair of shorts. The tattered brown suitcase was now stashed in a bus station locker.
“We’ll go to this luncheon, have ourselves a nice big meal, then find a park and pretend we’re camping out,” she told Annie. “Tomorrow morning we’ll wake up nice and fresh, come back to the station, climb on the bus, and be in New Jersey before you know it.”
As they started down Main Street, Annie asked, “Mama, is there gonna be cake?”
“I’m pretty sure there will be cake; maybe even pies as well.”
“Oh, boy!” Annie grinned and quickened her step.
Ida Parker
Cousins, Georgia
THIS WAS THE DAY IDA Parker had been dreading. Today she would say one last goodbye to the man she’d loved for over a quarter of a century. She leaned heavily on the railing as she mounted the five steps leading to the Elks Club building.
Inside the foyer she stopped in front of the large brass easel and stood looking at the collage of photos. Bill, when he was alive and well—playing golf, sitting behind the wheel of a boat, laughing with friends—and in the center, a larger shot where they stood arm in arm, him with a grin that stretched the full width of his face, her holding a bouquet of flowers. Their wedding day.
His temples already had a tinge of silver, and a fan of laugh lines cornered the edge of her eyes. It was a second marriage, but they’d never seemed old to one another. They’d laughed and loved the same as all newlyweds. He’d called her beautiful and teased her for worrying over a few extra pounds. She in turn had promised to love him even after his hair had turned white as snow. That was 25 years ago, but she remembered it as if it were yesterday.
Their love had remained steady and strong for all those years, in good times and bad. It had withstood the onslaught of Tommy’s anger and the heartbreak
