“Veronica?”
I pause while holding the edge of the door and turn to look into the car.
“Good luck.”
I give him the briefest of nods and slam the door before taking off in a run for the front of the bus station, my duffel bag slamming against my right hip.
The inside of the building is quiet. I count seven people waiting in orange plastic chairs lined along the walls. My wet shoes shloop, shloop, shloop with each step to the seat nearest the door.
I don’t make my way to the ticket window immediately. There’s no need.
I sit with my hands folded in my lap and close my eyes. I learned how to meditate from a DVD I borrowed from the local library back home in Shelby City. The librarian knows me by name and always orders anything I request since I’m no trouble and her most loyal customer.
Homesickness washes over me in an unexpected wave. I’m not far from home, but one state over isn’t far enough. I never dreamed I’d leave for the reason I have.
My mind clears with an effort and I begin to focus on the visual I’ve prepared for calming myself. The image, each pixel a vibrant shade of blue, sharpens in my head. Ocean water laps the sugar-white shore of the beach. White caps peak in the distance. Each roll of the waves moves like a kiss of tranquility.
I’ve never actually visited the ocean. This doesn’t stop my mind from intimately knowing the vivid colors. The salty smells. The peaceful sounds.
A place I might belong if I can ever get there.
“Miss?” A voice breaks into my meditative state and destroys it instantly. The rupturing reality descends again as the face of a middle-aged man appears in front of me.
He wears a blue and white-striped T-shirt, and I can’t help picturing a sailor from the picture books I had as a kid. A stale, musty odor clings like a cloud around him. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle in warning.
“What?” I scoot back in my seat to put some distance between us.
“Are you all right?” The stranger’s hand settles on my knee.
My flinch does nothing to deter him. A telltale shudder ricochets down my spine. “I’m fine. Would you take your hand off me?”
He gives a friendly and altogether creepy smile and pulls his hand back. “You looked like you might be having an episode. Can I get you a candy bar or something?”
There’s a smudge across one side of his black-framed glasses and a crusty residue coats the corner of the same side. Creepy doesn’t even touch the vibe he gives off.
“I’m fine. I was resting. Not having an episode or whatever you said.”
“My grandmother is a diabetic. Her sugar levels fall, and you had that look.”
“No.” I glance around to see if there’s anyone watching. His foot bumps mine as he inches closer. The man uses two fingers to push against the right side of his glasses. No wonder he has the perpetual smear across the lens.
“You seem to be alone here. I know how it is to be alone. A young, pretty girl like you should be careful because you never know—”
“I’m not alone.” My gaze wanders to the ticket window. I grab my wet duffel bag and rise in a quick move to get away from the guy.
I take a step to the left and he moves left. I move right and he matches it.
“Excuse me,” I say, resisting the urge to run.
“I think you need a friend.” The man drops his hand to the strap of my bag before I can back away.
I turn my head to look pointedly at his hand. “I’m not going to tell you again—”
“She’s with me.” The deep voice comes out of nowhere. It’s Collin. I’m so relieved I smile before I can stop myself. “Come on,” he says and nods toward the doors. “The car’s out front.”
There’s a lump stuck in my throat—a lump of gratitude, of shame, or of relief—I don’t have to name it to know I’m going to feel I owe him something. This is not a position I want to be in at the moment.
The man wearing the blue and white striped shirt makes eye contact with me before he does a weird double eyebrow raise like he questions my choice of leaving with Collin.
Really, Weirdo? “Yes. Please.” I hurry to the door and Collin steps to open it for me. It’s an awkward thing—having someone open a door for you when you’re not expecting it. I move back so the door won’t whack me in the face.
Before I can over think what may happen next, I’m following him out the exit. My steps slow.
Collin looks mighty good to me. When I was little, Mama always had a saying about watching out for things that look too good to be true.
He’s five yards ahead when he turns. His eyebrow arches, giving me a prompt for an explanation. “Coming?”
I shake my head. “Why did you come back?”
Collin lifts his right hand. He holds my change purse. It’s lightweight and worn, a black smudge marring the side facing up. “You must’ve dropped this in my car.”
I stumble in my enthusiasm to grab the pink purse from him and regain my balance at the last second. “Thanks for bringing it.” A flush heats my face.
He holds the wallet up high and then lowers it. “Not so fast.”
“Hey. Give it to me.”
“I happen to know you don’t have enough in here to buy a ticket across town.”
“You shouldn’t open something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“Hmm. I can and I did.” He tilts his head to the side. “Did you lose some money?”
I stay silent and put on my best haughty face. It’s tough because I know how I must look to him—like the wet, pitiful dog you decide to feed at the back door of the trailer.
He waves the small change purse in the space between us. “Twenty dollars and odd change. Your driver’s license has an Arkansas address, so I’m guessing that’s home. No credit cards.”
“So?” I hold out my hand for the bag and he places it in my palm.
“Exactly what did you plan to use for a bus ticket? Sell your soul? Twenty bucks.” He mutters the last two words like he’s scolding me. His tone jabs me in the throat, making it tighten uncomfortably. What does he know? Nothing.
“It’s none of your business.”
His mouth tightens while he pins me with his unfriendly glare. His dark eyes study me as if he knows what I’m thinking and doesn’t like it.
Collin turns, strolls to his car, and calls over his shoulder with the confidence of someone used to telling people what to do. “Follow me. You can’t go anywhere with twenty bucks. I’ll take you.”
“Take me where?” I race behind him with my heart pushing out the front of my chest.
“The place the bus was going to take you with your nonexistent load of cash.”
“You don’t know I couldn’t buy a ticket.” He doesn’t have to know I planned to sleep in the bus station. I chase him and grab the back of his shirt. “And you don’t have to help me.”
He pivots and closes the distance with a step toward me. “Do you want to go to the address on your license? It’s not far.”
I’m silent, my mind racing with possibilities. Would he take me a couple of miles down the road? To the next town? I need to be farther away from Shelby City and somewhere I can disappear into a crowd. “Not there.”