Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus (24 page)

“Comped.”

Harriet nodded like she understood what that meant.

“Means it’s free,” said the cowboy. “They give you free rooms when you gamble a lot.”

“Uhm. I see. It kind of keeps you spending money in their casino that way.”

The cowboy looked away and nodded.

“Will you at least tell me your name?”

“Bernard Weston, but folks call me Buddy. Buddy Weston.”

Harriet shook his hand. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Harriet Beamer.”

Buddy swallowed and looked out onto the casino floor. “Lady, I’m starting to wonder who’s more crazy. Me or you.”

“Guess we’re both crazy. I just crossed the country on public transportation. And you … you’re sitting here all dejected for some reason you won’t tell me and claim to play your guitar with your feet. I think both stories are crazy.”

“I do play. And sing. I’m pretty good too. It’s just … just that … ah, forget it. I got no hope.”

“Hope? Of course you have hope. Hope never goes away. It’s like a little bird that sits in your soul and just keeps right on singing and singing no matter how bad the storm.”

Harriet looked into Buddy’s eyes. They were soft and sad and missing something.

That was when Harriet got her dander and her nerve up. “Now, you tell me straight, Buddy Weston, are you planning to do something stupid and insane like kill yourself on account of you can’t play your guitar with your feet and make money doing it?”

He stood and made like he was going to leave. “Look, lady, I didn’t ask you to help me. I never told you to sit down next to me and start yakking about your stupid son and your stupid trip across the country. You’re just a rich old woman trying to tick off her daughter-in-law by taking your idiotic trip. What good is it doing? What good is anything?”

“I only wanted to help.”

“You can’t. Nobody can.”

He grabbed his guitar and vanished into the crowd.

Harriet felt terrible. She stared down at her red sneakers. Maybe Buddy was right. What good was the trip? Was it really necessary?

Harriet opened her notebook.

Harriet looked toward the lights and sounds of the casino. She heard a couple or three cheers.

She thought about going after Buddy, but he didn’t want her help or her friendship. How could she keep a man that bent on self-destruction from doing what he wanted? She looked skyward. “You got me into this. You took me all those miles for this? To not be able to stop him? I know you sent me here … now what do I do?”

Harriet looked around at the blinking machines. It seemed of all the places she’d seen, this was the saddest in many ways. It was noisy but not with conversation. It was noisy with noise.

Harriet made her way back to the street. It had grown cold and overcast, just like her mood. She could take the bus and be in Grass Valley before bedtime or she could stay and help Buddy — somehow. If she could find him.

That was when she heard the words of Kitty Bloom just before they said their good-byes in Pueblo. “You go, Harriet, your life is your own.”

But then just behind those words, in the back of her mind, she heard a deeper voice say, “No, Harriet, your life is not your own.”

And at that moment she felt relieved. She was much better off thinking that her life was God’s, for him to do with what he wanted, not what she desired. Or thought she did.

She walked a little farther with one eye trained on the buildings, concerned she’d see Buddy about to leap from fifty stories up. But no, he was staying at the casino. Maybe she should go back.

Harriet turned around just as the local bus pulled up. The door opened and three passengers stepped off. It was heading west, just like her. Maybe it was a sign that her journey had come to an end. Harriet looked at the driver, then at the passengers.

“Come on, lady,” the driver said, “you getting on?”

“Um, no, I have something else to do.”

Harriet pulled out her suitcase handle and made tracks back to the casino talking to herself. “If that Buddy Weston thinks he’s going to end it all just because he has one arm and has to play his guitar with his toes and has no singing record deal he’s gonna answer to me first. Lord, help me.”

She arrived at the casino and looked around. It was a huge place, and Buddy could have been anywhere — including his room, knocking back a bottle of Oxycontin or whatever the younger folks used for pain these days. She went to the hotel front desk and asked them to ring his room.

After a few moments, the desk clerk looked up. “I’m sorry, ma’am, no one is answering.”

“I failed.” She flopped down on a comfortable chair in the lobby. “Oh, Buddy … if you die, it’s my fault.”

“You lookin’ for me?”

Harriet looked up. It was Buddy, and he was still carrying his guitar case.

She jumped up and nearly fell flat when she tripped on her suitcase. “You bet I am looking for you! You had me worried sick. I was afraid you were gonna take pills or jump off the building or hang yourself with your guitar strings.”

“I was … but not the hanging part. Hard to do with one arm. But I got to thinking about you, and, well, you remind me of my mother, and that made me think about how much she wanted me to sing and play the guitar and make a name for myself.” He settled himself into a chair nearby and waved to have her join him.

“I’m glad I found you, Buddy,” she said, sinking back into her chair.

“Yeah. My mother was all I had, and … now I got nothin'. She kept me from being alone.”

“Maybe you could visit her,” Harriet said. “You could use some good old-fashioned family time. Home-cooked meal and, frankly, someone to do your laundry, son. What about your mama? Where does she live?”

Buddy glared in Harriet’s eyes, making her feel uncomfortable. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said my mother
was
all I had. She … died. Breast cancer. She had it bad. I took care of her right up to the end. But I wasn’t there the night she … she took her last breath. I was out playin’ some gig in some rundown two-bit taproom.”

“Oh, Buddy. I’m sorry. It’s hard. I know. You need someone, though, someone in your life to cheer you on.”

“I got you.”

“But I’m leaving, probably today.

Maybe tomorrow.”

“You can’t,” Buddy said. His voice grew cold and severe. “I won’t let you.” He grabbed Harriet’s wrist. “Buddy, stop, you’re hurting me.” “Just come with me.”

“No.” Harriet yanked her arm back. Her heart pounded. “Buddy. Stop. People are watching.”

“If you keep quiet no one will care. If you scream, I’ll … I’ll do something. Now come with me. And don’t holler. I can’t stand hollering. And don’t cry, neither. My mom cried. I hated to hear it.”

Harriet tried to take a breath, but she couldn’t. She looked into his eyes. They weren’t the same crystal blue eyes she saw earlier. Buddy’s desperation frightened her to her core. His eyes weren’t like the young purse snatcher.

She wanted to panic and scream, but she couldn’t make a sound or a move. The casino was so busy yet no one noticed them. Not even the security guard gave her a second look.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just come with me.” He took her arm again. “Keep walking. Out to my truck.”

“No. I don’t want to go.” Tears spilled down Harriet’s face. She tried to plead silently to the passersby. But they ignored her. She even heard one man say, “She must have lost big time.”

Once they were outside the casino Buddy forced her to a parking lot. “That’s my truck over there. The blue one with the gray fender and the Confederate flag.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up!” he said. “Get in.”

“No. I won’t.”

Buddy squeezed tighter. He opened the door and pushed her inside. He climbed in after her. “Don’t try and jump out.”

For some reason Harriet laughed. “Buddy, you’re not serious. You’re just troubled. You need help. But I’m not the one to help you.”

“I said shut up!”

Buddy pulled the truck onto the highway.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t matter. I … I don’t want to die alone.”

“Buddy. No.”

Harriet felt the truck accelerate. “Slow down. You’re driving too fast. We’ll have an accident.” She tried to get her phone from her tote but it was down deep.

“What are you doing? Don’t try anything.”

Buddy jerked the truck onto a dirt driveway that came up suddenly. Dust kicked up all around the cab.

“I know a place. A place where I can … I can run this truck off a cliff. I can’t die by myself.”

“Don’t make me watch you. Is that what you want? You couldn’t watch your mom die, and now you want me to watch you die? I won’t.”

“Stop talking. You’re … you’re confusing me.” Buddy swerved the truck around a large rock.

Harriet screamed. She couldn’t help it. She screamed as loud as she could. She punched Buddy’s arm. “Stop this. Stop this right now.”

But Buddy kept driving.

Harriet reached for the door handle. She thought she could jump but the truck was moving too fast. Then in a flash she grabbed onto the steering wheel. “No.” She pulled hard.

Buddy slammed on the brakes. “What are you doing?”

“Just stop,” Harriet said. She forced her voice to be calm, smooth. “You don’t have to die because you weren’t there for your mother. She understands. I know. You can be a singer, you can live your dream. With God’s —” She stopped talking and looked into his eyes. “I could be one of those people who pulls Jesus out of my bag and tells you how much you need him, which, don’t get me wrong, you do, but I don’t think you want to hear that right now.”

Buddy hit the steering wheel with his palms. “Don’t tell me about Jesus!” He looked at Harriet and cried. “My mother believed in God and —” He sobbed.

Harriet reached over and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Let me tell you about the snake handlers I rode with,” she said as she reached into her bag and clicked 911.

It only took a few minutes for the police to arrive — three squad cars and a paramedic. There was a lot of confusion at first but the next thing Harriet knew, she was standing next to one of the squad cars with a female police officer. The officer was asking questions so fast, or so it seemed, that Harriet could hardly catch her breath.

“Calm down, ma’am, and tell me what happened.”

Harriet leaned around the tall woman in time to see Buddy’s one arm handcuffed to his belt loop. Two other officers were taking him to another car. She watched as they put him in the backseat.

“That poor man,” Harriet said. “I don’t think he would have hurt me. He’s just so troubled.”

“What happened?” the officer repeated.

Harriet took a breath, and that was when unexpected tears began to flow down her cheeks. “Oh dear, I suppose it was a bit unsettling at that.”

“Unsettling? You were kidnapped.”

“I … I know that, dear.” Harriet wiped her eyes. And then she told the officer everything that happened. She needed to sniff back tears on a few occasions, but she finally got the whole story out.

“So, you see, I was just trying to help the dear. He just needs his mama, and well, like I said, she’s gone now.” Harriet looked off toward the cliff. “I think I must have favored her somehow. There was a connection.” Her stomach wobbled at the thought that maybe, just maybe Buddy could have driven off it like some wild movie scene — with her in the car. “I’m just so thankful I’m still here for my Henry — no matter what might have gone before or whether they ever give me a grandchild.”

A
FTER GIVING HER STATEMENT AT THE POLICE STATION, THE
officer told Harriet she was free to go.

“But we may need to speak to you at a later date,” she said. “Even though he confessed and was peaceful and all.”

“Please take care of him.” Harriet’s knees still shook as she sat at the table across from the police officer. “I need to get back to the casino. I left my suitcase there. I hope it’s still there.”

The officer shook her head. “Where did you leave it?”

“Well, when Buddy forced me away, it was in the lobby.”

“Oh no. I hope it wasn’t stolen.”

“Can you call the hotel?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later Harriet went to the restroom and had a little cry. She freshened up with a cold splash of water on her face. She went back to the lobby and waited for the officer. This station was nothing like the one she saw in Dodge. No, this station meant business.

“Good news. They have your suitcase,” Officer Wilkes said. “Fortunately some good Samaritan turned it in to the front desk.”

“Oh, thank God,” Harriet said.

“I’ll have one of our officers drive you back to the casino.”

Harriet got into the police car and cried. It had been a harrowing day to say the least. A ride on an emotional roller coaster Harriet never wanted to ride again.

“You know, that was pretty brave what you did,” Officer Jones said. “That man could have killed you.”

Harriet sucked a breath and snuffed back tears. She blew her nose into a tissue. Officer Wilkes gave her a box at the station. “Yes, he could have, but I had the feeling he really just wanted some attention. Someone to get him help.”

“He’ll get that in jail — if he wants it.”

Harriet couldn’t help herself. She needed to take another deep breath just to try and slow her heartrate.

“Maybe you should call your son. Freda — I mean Officer Wilkes — said you were traveling alone and had a son.”

“I will — a little later. I just got him to relax about the trip and now … this.”

“But you’re okay. That’s what’s important.”

Harriet was surprised how easily she could make bus connections from Reno, through several smaller towns, and then into California. When she crossed the state line, she turned to her seatmate, an older gentleman with two cigars sticking out of his shirt pocket, and said, “My heart just grew three sizes. You know like the Grinch, only I’m not a Grinch. At first I didn’t want to go. But now that I’m here, I do want to be here.”

Cigar Man ignored her. But that was okay. Harriet had talked plenty for one day.

At a town called McQueen, Harriet needed to take four buses toward the airport and then transfer to the Green Route to the Truckee bus depot. From there Harriet had no choice but to find her way to the Truckee Amtrak Station and buy a ticket. The Truckee Amtrak Station was cute, or so Harriet thought. She liked the small clapboard building, which was painted bright yellow like a sunflower with brown trim and wooden benches outside. There wasn’t much else in the way of amenities, but at least they had a bathroom and a vending machine where she could get a Diet Coke. The only trouble was, when she went to get her ticket, she discovered that the California Zephyr, which had become like a friend to her, was not scheduled to return until around eight o’clock the next morning. Harriet would need to spend the night in Truckee.

Amelia lead her to a lovely little hotel, Mrs. Frank’s Inn on Donner Boulevard. She had to think about that a minute as she stood outside the bright purple house turned hotel. It had lovely gingerbread trim around the gables and a pretty little garden chock full of purple and yellow and red flowers. She had to think about the Donner thing she had learned about. It was creepy to think about the Donner Party, the infamous incident way back in 1840 when a group of pioneers became stranded by a blizzard and had to resort to cannibalism to survive. She shuddered at the thought.

Harriet was greeted inside the house by an older woman, who looked to be closing in on eighty.

“Can I help you?” the woman said with a scratchy voice as she sucked on a cigarette and then blew smoke into the air.

“I need a room for the night.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have one? Because I can just find another —” Harriet was in no mood to fuss with anyone.

“No, no I got one. Got ‘em all as a matter of fact. We don’t see folks usually till fall. Ski weather.”

“Oh, well, I’m just on my way to Grass Valley.”

“Room 2 — top of the stairs.”

Harriet found her room easily enough. It was okay, smelled from mold, though — mold and cigarettes. Her bed was small, not quite a double, some weird size with a mattress so hard she figured you could play tennis on it. But she had no choice but settle in and make Mrs. Frank’s Inn her base of operations until morning.

One of the first things she did was call Martha.

“No, I’m serious, Martha,” Harriet said into her phone. “The man kidnapped me.” Her heart pounded at the thought.

“You’re serious. Oh, Harriet. You must have been scared out of your mind.”

“Well that’s the strange thing,” Harriet said. “I was at first, but then, I don’t know what came over me. It might have been something I learned from the snake preachers. But I knew that I’d be all right. I kept silently calling on the name of Jesus through the whole ordeal until finally I laughed at him. And that seemed to settle him down.”

“Now you really are a hero,” Martha said.

“Oh, I just can’t hardly believe it’s me doing all these things. But I was thinking that for the whole trip and even before that, folks were driving me. I followed. But when I grabbed Buddy’s steering wheel and made it go the way I wanted it to, well, I was in charge. Me — the gambling cookie lady from Bryn Mawr.”

Harriet thought she could hear Martha’s smile. “Anyway,” she said. “I’m safe and sound in Truckee in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I am not making that up, either. That’s the name. It’s nice, pretty much what you’d imagine a mountain town to be like. And get this, Martha, I’m staying near the famous Donner Pass; you know, you heard about the Donner Party.”

“You mean those folks who had to eat —”

“Yep. Weird, huh. Can you imagine?”

“Let’s not talk about that. When will you get to Henry’s?” Martha asked.

“Tomorrow. I think I’ll surprise them and just show up on their doorstep.”

Harriet and Martha enjoyed more conversation. Harriet told her she had sent thirty-six boxes of salt and pepper shakers to Grass Valley including her collection from home.

“And I think I’ll pick some more up here in Truckee.”

Martha laughed. “You’re a card, Harriet. A real card.”

Mrs. Franks, the hotel owner, suggested Harriet go to a restaurant called Doilies. “You can get a decent meal there; burgers ain’t bad. ‘Course I’d stay away from the grizzly guts stew.”

“Grizzly guts? Really?”

Mrs. Franks lifted her bushy eyebrows. “Really. And be careful walking around town after dark. Some of the Donner Party are still out looking for livers to eat. Then you’d be stuck here, looking for livers.”

Harriet swallowed. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Mrs. Franks’ eyebrows rose. “Suit yourself. I’m just saying. Be careful.” She sucked her cigarette.

Harriet spent a fitful night in the uncomfortable bed. She kept imagining noises that weren’t there, and if that weren’t bad enough, a thunderstorm blew in. The lightning lit up her room with scary white light and made shadows dance like ghosts looking for livers to eat. And each rumble of thunder shook her bed, and one time it boomed so close overhead it made her bed move. It took a moment to blame it on the thunder. She thought maybe a ghost had moved it. “Get out,” she said. “I need my liver.”

But the creepiest part was when the lights went off and Harriet only had her phone to illuminate the dark. She thought she should call Henry and was just about to when her door creaked open and she saw Mrs. Franks in a long striped night shirt and a long tasseled nightcap standing at the threshold with a lantern. At least she prayed it was Mrs. Franks.

“I come to light your lantern, if you need it. No telling how long the lights will be out.”

“Sh … sure,” Harriet said. “Thank you.”

“Like to keep the oil lamps just in case.”

Mrs. Franks flicked a match on the wall and lit the small lantern. “Won’t keep you warm but least you got light. Until the oil runs out.”

Mrs. Franks left, and Harriet pulled the cover over her head and sang, “Give me oil in my lamp, keep it burning, burning, burn —” And then
crack
, lightning struck.

Morning, in all its mercy and light, finally came. Harriet dressed quickly without washing or brushing her teeth. She shoved her belongings into her pack and made her way downstairs, paid her bill, said good-bye to Mrs. Franks, and hightailed it to the Truckee Amtrak.

She had a short wait of about an hour so she sat on one of the benches outside. “I’ll get coffee on the train.” She shivered against the chill air.

“How ‘bout that storm last night?” said another waiting passenger.

“It was something,” Harriet said, trying to sound brave. “But I like thunderstorms, ‘specially in the mountains.”

“Me too,” the man said. “Except when we lose power like we did last night.”

Harriet shivered.

Right on schedule the California Zephyr pulled up. Harriet stood, but as she did she felt a sudden pain, a huge pain right in the middle of her chest. It was like an anvil had fallen onto her chest. She staggered. Couldn’t catch her breath. She tried to sit back down, but she stumbled and fell against the building. The pain was horrible, like nothing she had ever felt before. She clutched her chest. Pain shot down her left arm. She saw the conductor running toward her.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” he hollered.

“Don’t let them take my liver.”

And then everything went black.

That evening, after supper, Henry and Prudence had settled down to watch a baseball game together. Sandra Day sat on Prudence’s lap, while Humphrey lay near Henry’s feet.

“Good night for baseball. I just want to catch the news first,” Henry said.

“What’s wrong with Humphrey?” Prudence asked. “He looks even more depressed than usual. Is he sick?”

Henry patted the dog’s head. “Don’t know. He’s been glum all day. He hasn’t eaten much and has just been hanging close to me like a big fat barnacle. Wouldn’t even eat the donut Mrs. Caldwell brought him.”

Humphrey moaned.

Just then the phone rang.

“Henry Beamer?”

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

“This is Hilda Shim at Incline Village Hospital.”

Henry’s heart nearly stopped. He looked at Prudence. Prudence looked at him.

“Hospital? My mother?”

“Yes, sir. She’s been admitted. She had a small heart attack. But she’s stable.”

“She had a heart attack,” Henry said to Prudence.

Humphrey howled.

“Incline Village? Where the heck is that?”

“Near Lake Tahoe.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s being admitted to the cardiac care unit.”

Henry clicked off his phone. “Come on, we have to go to Lake Tahoe.”

“Lake Tahoe?” Prudence slipped on her sneakers. “What about the dog?”

“Should we take him?”

Humphrey perked up and trotted toward the front door. “Look at him. He knew something was wrong,” Henry said. “I don’t feel right about leaving him here alone. He’ll have a nervous breakdown.”

Henry and Prudence got into the BMW. Humphrey lay down in the back. “Set the GPS, Pru,” Henry said. “What’s the address?”

“Hold on, I have to do a search.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried.”

Henry pulled onto the main street heading toward California Highway 20. “Incline Village?” he said. “Sounds small. Sounds like they won’t be able to take good care of her. What if they have to relocate her to a bigger hospital? What if she needs surgery, or a bypass, or a heart transplant?”

“Then we’ll go wherever she is. And she won’t need surgery or a transplant. Honestly, your mind. Everything is a plot, a story.” Prudence patted his hand as it rested on the gearshift. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get to her.”

Humphrey whimpered.

Harriet woke in the presence of two doctors and a nurse. The pain had subsided. She noticed she was hooked up to IVs. “What happened?”

“You had a small heart attack, Harriet,” the doctor said. She had a soothing voice and Harriet felt at ease, although a bit nervous.

“Oh, then it wasn’t the liver-stealing Donner party.”

“What?” The doctor looked at her. She smiled. “Could be the drugs.”

“Nothing,” Harriet said. “You say it was small? How small? It didn’t feel small.” She spoke softly. She was so tired and a little dizzy. She pointed to the middle of her chest. “It hurt right here, and then, just like they say in the TV commercial, I felt the pain in my arm.”

“That’s exactly it. But it was minor. I don’t think there is any damage to the heart muscle. But just to be sure I want to keep you overnight.”

“Overnight? Do I have to?”

“It’s advised. We’ll put you on the cardiac unit. We already called your son.”

“Oh, why’d you go and do that? Now he’ll never let me finish my trip.” Harriet took a labored breath.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were on a trip. But I wouldn’t advise you to continue, Harriet. Maybe your son can come and get you. Take you home from here.”

Harriet’s spirits sank. “But, but …”

The doctor patted her hand. “No need to make a decision. Let’s get you into a room and settled first. But I really think you should consider letting your son come and drive you home.”

Harriet lay her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. The bright lights in the room disturbed her. “I guess I am pretty tired, after all.”

“It’s been a long trip,” the nurse said.

An hour later Harriet was tucked into a bed on the third floor of the hospital. It was a private room, and she had more bells and whistles attached to her than she could count. She hated hospitals. Hated being sick and was quite frankly angry she even had the stupid heart attack. So when the nurse came in later to take her vitals and help her to the bathroom Harriet asked, “Why did this happen? I am so healthy, little high blood pressure. But otherwise —”