Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus (17 page)

On her way to find a restaurant, Harriet wandered into a shop. It had many souvenirs — even shakers, but for the first time in her life, she wasn’t interested. Instead, her eyes fell on something else. A line of baby articles and clothing. She couldn’t help herself and went to investigate. Her favorite item was a small yellow bib with a silhouette of the Smoky Mountains. Under it were the words “My Nana Climbed a Mountain for Me,” embroidered in green thread.

Harriet’s heart sped. “It’s perfect. I have to purchase this. I … I’ll just give it to them when the time is right.”

Harriet mostly enjoyed her lunch, a salad and a hamburger at a little joint called Bunny’s Luncheonette. It was quaint and old-fashioned, with a counter and spinny stools bolted to a black and white checkered linoleum floor. She sat at a booth, Formica with a little personal-size juke box attached to it. She thought that was just swell but was too tired to play music and was thinking it might be a good idea to spend the night in Gatlinburg.

Her waitress, a short bleached blonde with ten pounds of eye makeup, dropped the check on her table.

“Excuse me,” Harriet said. “But … I was wondering if you might be able to suggest a nice motel or a B&B for the night.”

The waitress crossed her arms and looked disgustedly at Harriet.

“There’s the Wander Inn not too far from here, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Heard they got a case of bed bugs.”

Harriet winced. “Ew. No thank you.”

The waitress tapped her pencil on her order pad. “I heard some folks in here talkin’ the other day ‘bout Carr’s Cottages. They seemed to like it well enough.”

“Carr’s Cottages. It sounds nice. Do you know how I can get there?”

The server looked at Harriet and started to laugh. “Honey. I just take orders. I am not no GPS.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought —”

“Nope. But someone else might know.”

Harriet snapped her fingers. “Amelia. She’ll tell me.” Harriet rooted around in her tote for her phone.

“You ain’t gonna tell me you got Amelia in that bag, are you?”

“Actually, yes, I do.” She pulled out the phone. “My GPS. She’ll tell me.”

A
ND
A
MELIA DID — FIGURE IT OUT, THAT IS.
T
HE
P
IGEON
Forge Trolley got her within walking distance of Carr’s Northside Cottages and Motel. Nestled within a scenic view of trees and a creek, the motel was a lovely two-level building. Harriet was able to get a room on the first floor, which made her happy since the only way to the second level of rooms was via steps, and she just wasn’t up for climbing stairs. Her room had one queen-size bed and opened out into a rustic backyard.

“It’s perfect,” she said as she flopped onto the bed. “Peaceful.” But since she still owed Henry a call she tapped his number and said, “Hello, Son.”

“Mom. Where are you now? We’ve been worried. We just heard about that incident with the purse thief. How come you didn’t tell us?”

“Oh dear,” Harriet said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

“Of course we did. Those kinds of stories often make the news. An old … older woman taking down a thug. It’s priceless. People love it. I just never thought my own mother would be one of the … older women.” Henry sounded a bit frantic. “I watched the YouTube a couple of times. Mom, you know you could have gotten hurt.”

Harriet sighed. “I know that … now. But at the time I didn’t think. I acted. I’m just glad that kid didn’t have a gun — and Henry, he was just a kid. I hope he gets help. I pray for him now.”

They were both silent a moment.

“You know what, Mom? I’m kind of proud of you,” Henry said. “I’m not saying I condone what you did, but you still got spunk. It made me remember the time you went to school and let Mrs. Stark have it for accusing me of cheating. You never did take any guff.”

“You were innocent, Son. I had to back you up. Just like I am now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I … I want to tell you that I’m proud of you being a writer and helping Prudence follow her dreams even if … it doesn’t include grandchildren.”

Harriet could hear Henry take a deep breath.

“Henry?”

“I’m here, Mom. It’s just … just … oh, nothing. I want to help you achieve your dream — even if all I can do is hang on to the other end of the phone.”

“That’s plenty. But I hardly call seeing the Salt and Pepper Shaker Museum a dream.”

“But it is. And you did that. What’s next?”

Harriet thought a second or two. “I don’t know. A woman my age shouldn’t have too many dreams —”

“Nonsense. You’re not too old to have dreams.”

“And besides, you and Prudence aren’t interested in —”

“Mom. Let’s not go there.”

“You’re right. Well, I best be going, Son. I love you, and I really am looking forward to seeing you — now.”

That was when she remembered she wanted to call Martha, but the giant yawn that bubbled up inside of her made her forget about it for the moment.

Harriet locked her phone screen but unlocked it just a second later. She needed to figure out her next destination. According to the map, it seemed to make sense for her to reach Saint Louis where
she could grab a train for a long bit of the trip. But fortunately there were a lot of miles between Pigeon Forge and Saint Louis. She still had plenty of places yet to discover, and that, after all, was the point of the trip. Saint Louis would still be there in a day or two. Henry and Prudence would still be waiting. And Humphrey would still enjoy a glazed donut from time to time. Amelia routed her from the Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge area into Knoxville and from there into Nashville.

Harriet sighed. Nashville. She was never what you would call a fan of country music, but the idea of visiting the Grand Ole Opry excited her. She had been hearing about it ever since she was young. She especially remembered seeing television specials with Minnie Pearl, the woman with the funny straw hat with the white tag displaying the price of $1.98 dangling off the brim.

“Minnie always said, ‘How-w-w-dee!’ “ Harriet spoke the words aloud, forgetting for a second that Humphrey wasn’t there to talk to.

That afternoon she found a nice restaurant called the Whole Earth Grocery Café nearby. It was a vegetarian place. Harriet enjoyed a nice cheeseburger from time to time, but thought it might be kind of interesting to eat vegetarian for a change — long as there weren’t any tomatoes. Harriet hated tomatoes, although she didn’t mind tomato sauce.

The small café was a combination grocery store and eatery. She found it delightful and sat at one of the round tables in the front of the establishment.

She ordered the Veggie Wrap and enjoyed it very much, although — and she would never tell the waitress — she still preferred burgers.

After a restful night at Carr’s, Harriet decided to tackle the next leg of her journey. She spoke with a man named Houston she met on the motel porch. They sat together on the porch in the warm
mountain air. Houston said he was a businessman visiting from Texas. Harriet made certain not to chuckle at the irony.

“That’s right,” he said, “I drive nearly 50,000 miles a year.”

“No kidding,” Harriet said. “Well, I don’t need to get that far. I just need to find my way to Knoxville, and I’m finding that a little difficult.”

Houston scratched under his hat. “Well, seems to me, you might be in a pickle. No public transportation that I know of gonna take you that far.”

Harriet’s spirits sank. “There must be a way. A shuttle bus or a …”

“I know,” Houston said. “A pretty woman like yourself should ride in luxury. Why not hire a limousine service. It’s not even an hour’s drive to Knoxville from here, straight up Route 441. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You mean one of them long cars with the TVs and wet bars inside?”

“I sure do, ma’am. I’m certain the proprietor of this fine establishment will be able to help you find a car.”

Around noon that day, a long, shiny black limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. Harriet nearly swooned when she saw a tall, dashing young man step out of the driver’s side. He wore a well-pressed black suit, bright white shirt, and red bow tie. He stood near the door and held a sign that read “H
ARRIET
B
EAMER”
in big black letters.

“Oh my goodness gracious, I feel like a celebrity,” Harriet said. She waved to the driver.

Houston waited with Harriet until the driver approached. “Ready, ma’am? Is this your bag?”

Harriet couldn’t contain a nervous giggle. “Why, why, yes, young man. It is.”

The driver looked at Houston. “Will you be joining us, Mr. Pike?”

Houston touched the rim of his hat. “No, sir. But you take good care of this little lady. She’s a personal friend of mine. You drive real nice and slow.”

Harriet looked up at Houston. “Now how does he know your name?”

The driver took hold of Harriet’s suitcase. Lifted it like it was made from paper maché.

“Everybody knows Houston Pike,” said the driver. “He’s one of the richest men in the country.”

“Well, thump my gums, you didn’t tell me.”

Houston smiled. “This ride is my gift. And like I said —” He looked at the driver — “nice and easy wins the race.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Houston handed the driver a wad of money.

Harriet rode off in style toward Knoxville, Tennessee.

Houston was, of course, correct. It was a pretty short trip into Knoxville. Harriet enjoyed the comfortable limo even if the driver was pretty much silent the whole way. It gave her an opportunity to write to Max.

Harriet looked out the tinted windows at the scenery rushing
past. It was hard to make out much more than trees and telephone poles. She went back to her letter.

Then she drew a little smiley face.

She also consulted Amelia and instructed the driver to take her to the Knoxville Greyhound bus terminal. She’d catch a bus to Nashville from there. It would be her first Greyhound, even though she had hoped she wouldn’t have to resort to that. But if Harriet learned anything on her journey it was that sometimes the road of life throws you a curve you weren’t expecting.

Kyle, the limo driver, pulled up in front of the bus station, and Harriet had to admit, as he helped her bring her bag inside, it was not the prettiest place on earth … and nothing like the spectacular train stations she had visited.

But she also learned that the next bus to Nashville didn’t leave until 5:30 that afternoon.

“Oh dear, Kyle,” she said. “What does a person do in Knoxville, Tennessee, for five hours?”

Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know, Ma’am, maybe get some lunch, read a book. How about visiting a museum?”

Harriet looked around. She didn’t see any museums right off.

“Thank you, Kyle,” she said. “I’m sure Amelia will help me find some attractions.” But actually Harriet didn’t want Kyle to leave. Her stomach wobbled a bit with nerves. It was nothing she could put her finger on, but for some reason this day, being alone in a strange city for five hours made her anxious. She had never wished so hard that Humphrey was by her side.

Harriet watched Kyle pull away from the curb. He honked the horn and waved from the window. And there she stood in her red
high-tops and blue denim jeans, wearing her stone martens and clutching her flowery tote like it was a life preserver.

Harriet took a deep breath, checked her Greyhound ticket again to be certain she was right about the time, and set off down the street with a big sigh. But a couple of blocks down the road she spotted one of the most interesting buildings she had seen in her travels. It stood on the corner and was kind of an eclectic mishmash of architectural styles — Queen Anne Victorian but with a splash of Gothic Revival and Romanesque. She rested a moment and looked at it. P
ATRICK
S
ULLIVAN’S
S
ALOON.
She liked the turret and dome and the red and yellow colors, and decided she had to go inside.

And that was no disappointment, although it was dark and subdued. But then again it was a saloon and, as she found out from a waiter, a onetime brothel and meeting place for characters like Billy the Kid.

Harriet ordered lunch and coffee and spent the better part of two hours in the saloon. She read Jane Austen and wrote to Max. She called Martha, who wasn’t home, and tried to wait out the time before her bus.

She wandered around Knoxville, being certain to keep close to the bus station, so when it was finally time to leave, she was more than ready to get on board. The time spent was pleasant enough. At 5:30 Harriet boarded what she figured might have been a newer bus, with comfortable seats and video monitors. And the best part? Her luggage had a place in an actual luggage compartment, not at her feet or over her head. Although she did keep her tote bag with her.

The ride from Knoxville to Nashville took almost four hours thanks to some traffic woes, so Harriet didn’t arrive until close to 11:00 that night. Fortunately, she consulted Amelia along the way and located a hotel very close to the terminal. She also arranged for a cab to pick her up on account of the late hour. So when the bus pulled into the station, which was little more that a one-level bright
blue building in the center of a parking lot, Harriet felt relieved to see the taxi parked and waiting to take her to the Best Western.

As she entered the room, she said, “Oh, this is lovely,” to the young man from the front counter, who had offered to carry her luggage. He placed her suitcase on a small table. “Just right for me.”

Harriet yawned and stretched. Her neck had developed a crick on the bus ride, and all she wanted to do was sleep. So she plugged in her phone, changed into her jammies, and made a mental note to find a washing machine in the morning. No clean socks. But she was so plum tuckered out that she fell fast asleep thinking about visiting the Grand Ole Opry in the morning.

But Harriet slept and slept and slept like a rock. As a matter of fact, she slept nearly the entire day away and never made it to the Opry. She woke once or twice before lunch to use the bathroom, but the thought of finding her way to the Opry was too much. She was exhausted from traveling, she figured, and ended up sleeping the day away. Not even a phone call to Henry or Martha until she was set to embark on the next leg of her journey.

“Martha,” she said as she zipped her suitcase. Harriet had discovered the speaker button on her hotel-room phone. “I tried to call yesterday but you weren’t home.”

“Oh, yes, well, I had to see the doctor.”

“Doctor? Are you okay?”

“I think so. You know doctors, always wanting to take tests.”

“Tests? For what?”

“It’s nothing. Just some blood work.”

Harriet took the phone off speaker and brought it to her ear. “Now you’d tell me if something is really wrong, right?”

There was a short lull in the conversation. “Yes, of course. Now tell me where you are and where you’re headed.”

“I’m in Nashville and —”

“The Grand Ole Opry. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“I never made it. I was just so dang tired I slept nearly the whole day away. I’m getting set to leave town now.”

“You slept through your visit to Nashville?”

“I did. But that’s okay. I feel so much better now that I’ve had the rest.”

“So what’s your next stop?”

“I want to get into Kentucky today and it’s already nearly 1:30. Amelia is taking me through Saint Louis. I could probably bus the whole way, but I think I’ll make a stop or two. I’d like to see some of that Kentucky blue grass more close up.”