Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus

by Joyce Magnin

  “You’re a nut. You know that? What brought this on? I figured you and Humphrey would fly.”

  “I was packing my collection, you know, to send on ahead to Henry, and that’s when it hit me. I have all these shakers from all over the world. Places I’ve never seen. Sent to me by friends and missionaries. It made me think that Max — God love him — never took me anywhere.”

  “Jersey shore.”

  “Doesn’t count. But if I take the slow way to Grass Valley I’m sure I’ll see some sights, starting with the Salt and Pepper Shaker Museum in Gatlinburg, Tennessee — oh, Martha, I’ve been wanting to see the museum for eons now.”

  “Have you told the kids?”

  Harriet looked away from Martha. “I think I’ll wait until I’m on the way. They’ll get all worried and frantic — especially Henry. And I don’t want them to talk me out of it.”

  Martha clicked her tongue. “You’re a card, Harriet Beamer. A real card. But what about Humphrey. You can’t take him on the bus.”

  “I know. I’ll have to send him on the plane. He’s going to hate it but what can I do?”

  The day before Harriet’s scheduled departure, she brought Humphrey to the airport. It was a terrible thing to push him into a crate, but there was no other way to get a sixty-two-pound basset hound to California. She placed a brand-new rawhide bone and his favorite chew toy, a red rubber hydrant, into the cage. She also put a blue towel and note to Henry inside.

  “Now don’t you worry,” Harriet said when she locked the crate door. “You’ll be fine. I’m sorry they wouldn’t let me buy you a regular seat, but airlines have their rules.”

  Humphrey’s head drooped.

  “I know you must be scared.” She reached two fingers into the metal crate and touched Humphrey’s ear. “I love you so much.” Harriet’s heart broke into several pieces.

  The dog closed his eyes and opened them as though signaling that he understood.

  Harriet sniffed back tears. “Now Henry and Prudence will get you at the airport in Sacramento. I’ll get there as soon as I can but … but.” She turned her head away.

  Humphrey whimpered.

  “Oh dear, maybe … maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

  She wiped tears on her sleeve.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” said a worker, “but I need to take the dog.”

  “Okay, but … but I can’t …”

  “Ma’am?”

  Harriet touched Humphrey’s snout. “I’ll see you soon. And please don’t worry about me.”

  Humphrey yowled but only a little.

  When she returned home that morning, Harriet phoned Henry to tell him when to expect Humphrey.

  “Okay, Mom,” Henry said. “Flight 1411 at 6:30. We’ll be there. And Mom, it will be good to see you.”

  “Oh, you won’t be seeing me,” Harriet said. “Not yet.”

  “But why? We’ll just pick you up at baggage claim and then go to wherever the animals —”

  “But I won’t be there, dear. I’m taking the bus.”

  There was a long pause until Henry finally said, “The bus? But … why?”

  “Because I want to see the country, dear.”

  “But Mom, that’s ridiculous. You can’t travel all that distance alone.”

  “I can too. I … just think that if I must come to California so you and Prudence can put me out to pasture —” she sniffed tears back. “Then fine, but I’m doing it my way. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

  “But … but which bus? When? And we’re not putting you out to pasture.”

  “Then what? I’m an old lady who can’t take care of herself anymore and … and has outlived her purpose, like an old plow horse.”

  “Mother, I’m sorry you feel that way, but —”

  “But I want to do this, Henry. Now, I’m not sure when I’ll get to Sleepy Valley —”

  “Grass Valley,” Henry said.

  “Whatever. Still sounds like a rest home. But I am going to take my time.”

  “You’re being silly, mother.”

  “I am not. Now I got to go. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

  Harriet ended her call, and a swarm of butterflies invaded her stomach. “Oh dear, I know he’s upset, but … but I just have to do it my way.”

  Later that evening Henry and Prudence arrived at the airport to get Humphrey. It was apparent to them that the plane ride had not been a pleasant one for Humphrey.

  “Look at him,” Henry said. “I didn’t think it was possible for that hound to look any more put-out, but just look at him.”

  Prudence looked at the dog. “He’s pitiful. Let’s get him home. I’m sure he’ll settle in quickly. I just hope Sandra Day will accept him.”

  “Oh, your cat will get over it.” Henry unlatched the crate. Humphrey barely moved.

  “That must be his leash.” Prudence pointed to the coiled canvas lead in the crate.

  “Okay, just a second, old man,” Henry said. He reached inside and grabbed the hydrant and rawhide bone. He dropped them into a plastic Ziploc bag he pulled out of his pants pocket and handed it to Prudence. She held the Ziploc like she was holding plutonium. “Dog slobber. I hate dog slobber. And please leave the towel — Lord knows what he did on that.”

  “You’d slobber too,” Henry said, “if you just traveled 2,500 miles in the cargo hold of a jet with no windows and —” he looked at the crate next to Humphrey’s —“a snooty-looking show dog.”

  Humphrey perked up.

  “Look at that,” Henry said. “I think he understands me. My mother said he had an uncanny ability to understand things.”

  “He’s a dog, Henry.”

  Humphrey didn’t respond.

  Henry grabbed the leash, and when he did a piece of yellow paper floated to the floor.

  “What’s that?” Prudence asked.

  “I don’t know.” Henry picked up the sheet and unfolded it. “A note. From my mother.”

  “Oh, geeze, leave it to your mother to hide a note in his cage.”

  “ ‘Dearest Henry and Prudence,’ “ Henry read.

  I know you will take good care of Humphrey. I will see you soon. Please be sure to scratch behind his ears. He likes sardines and glazed donuts, but make sure they’re fresh.

  Love,

  Mother

  P.S. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

  Henry repeated the P.S.: “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  He looked at Prudence. “I am going to worry about her. I still can’t figure out what made her want to take the bus.”

  “I know. I know,” Prudence said. “I just wish she had told you which bus. And when. All we can do is assume she’s taking Greyhound.”

  Humphrey yowled.

  Henry clicked the leash onto Humphrey’s collar. “Maybe she got nervous about flying. She’s never flown that I know of.”

  “Really? How is that possible?”

  “She and my dad never traveled much — just to the Jersey shore every summer, and that’s only an hour and a half car ride.”

  Humphrey walked next to Henry.

  When they made their way out of the terminal Prudence spotted a grassy area near the parking lot. “Maybe you should let him … relieve himself. Over there.” She pointed.

  “Yeah, his bladder must be as big as a football by now.”

  Humphrey lifted his leg near a light pole but was forced to stop midstream when a security guard approached. Humphrey never liked uniforms. He let go a very loud bark.

  “Hey, you can’t let your dog do that here. Get him out of the airport first.”

  “It’s just —”

  The guard interrupted Prudence. “I don’t care if it’s Chardonnay, you can’t let your dog pee on airport grounds.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Come on, Henry.”

  They walked a little farther before Henry signaled his car. The red SUV beeped and the lights flashed a second or two.

  “I love remote
entry,” Henry said. “Makes it easier to find your car in a crowded parking lot.”

  “You say that every time,” Prudence said.

  “It’s true. The wonders of technology. My dad would have loved this. He was forever forgetting where he parked his car.” Henry opened the lift gate.

  “Come on, boy, hop in.”

  Humphrey tried. He made three or four concerted efforts to jump into the vehicle, but his short legs belied his good efforts. He gave Henry a look.

  “Pick him up, Henry,” Prudence said. “My goodness, his legs are the size of link sausages.”

  Henry reached under the dog and gently lifted him into the car. Humphrey gave him an appreciative lick on the cheek, which Henry promptly wiped.

  “Ewww,” Prudence said, “dog kisses.”

  Humphrey stretched out in the back on an old blanket and whimpered.

  “Well, what should we do, Henry?” Prudence asked once they were out of the airport and onto the highway. She cracked a window and let the early spring air into the car.

  “About what?”

  “Your mother. Should we check the bus schedules? I suspect she’ll be taking Greyhound. We could go online and see if a bus from Philadelphia is arriving today.”

  “Oh, not today. It will take longer than a day to travel clear across the country.”

  Prudence made one of her noises. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I didn’t even think about that. Who knows when she’ll be arriving?”

  Henry reached over and squeezed Prudence’s shoulder. “Look, we’ll check the Greyhound website when we get home. If she left today after Humphrey’s flight, she’ll be arriving here in a couple of days I would imagine.”

  “I hope so, Henry. You know how much I love your mother, but I’ve got the election coming up and this big case. I don’t need the distraction.”

  Henry sighed. “Leave it to my mother to do something so harebrained as this.”

  “Whoa,” Prudence said. “I didn’t say that. Harebrained? Okay, okay, the bus might not have been her smartest move, but I bet she thought long and hard about this. She sold her house and most of the furniture all by herself, not to mention shipping what needed shipping — including her entire salt-and-pepper-shaker collection.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She called yesterday and said the FedEx driver just picked up the boxes.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “And don’t forget she arranged for storage for everything else and got Humphrey on an airplane. Harriet Beamer is not a hare-brain. Just … unconventional.”

  “All right, all right. You made your point.”

  Prudence smiled and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m just worried and … and stressed. Running for the council and —”

  “I know,” Henry said, “but who has the best legal mind in this car or any of those cars out there?”

  She kissed his cheek on the same spot Humphrey licked. “Dog germs.”

  “Everything will work out. Mom will get here unscathed, Sandra Day will grow to love Humphrey, and you will be elected to the city council and then who knows — the Supreme Court. Unless of course you’d rather start thinking about having —”

  “Oh, not the baby discussion. I’m … just not ready. My career is —”

  “I know, honey. I know.”

  Prudence stared out the window. The trees whizzed past at seventy miles an hour. “I hope Harriet knows what she’s doing.”

  Humphrey whimpered and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 4

  HARRIET LOOKED AT THE CLOCK ON THE KITCHEN WALL — she was leaving it behind for the new owners. “Two o’clock. Humphrey must have landed by now.” She sighed. “I hope he’s okay.”

  She finished wiping down the counters and made certain the refrigerator was clean and smelled fresh. As excited as she felt about her decision to take the scenic route and see the country, she also felt nervous, scared to death at times about traveling alone. But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, including Martha. God knew her anxieties and that was enough.

  “Ah, fiddlesticks,” she said to the clock. “Maybe I should just get on an airplane. I mean what the heck. So I’ll never see the country — what’s so great about a salt-and-pepper-shaker museum anyway?”

  She flopped onto the kitchen chair just as her cell phone chimed.

  “Henry,” she said. “Did you get Humphrey? How is he? Is he terribly nervous?”

  “Yes, Mom. He’s here. He’s fine. But I wish you had come with him.”

  “I’ll be there soon. I —”

  “Listen, Mom,” Henry said. “Just take the plane. Taking the bus is crazy. It’s nonsense.”

  Harriet felt her eyebrows arch like a gothic cathedral. “Nonsense? Crazy? It’s not nonsense. And I am not crazy.” Harriet felt a twinge of courage resurface. “I … I want to see the country before I die.”

  “But Mom, alone? Why not wait until next summer, and we’ll all take a trip.”

  Harriet sucked a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, I … I want to do it myself. Now. And I know you mean well, dear, but you and Prudence will never find the time, and I’m not getting any younger.”

  “But mom, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Sorry. But that’s my plan. Kiss Humphrey on the nose for me and buy him a glazed donut. He deserves it after such a long trip.” She could hardly believe it was her speaking.

  “But, Mom, when —”

  Harriet closed her phone. She had never hung up on Henry — or anyone — before. She didn’t like the way it felt, but she suddenly needed to take a stand.

  She slapped the kitchen table. “I’m doing it. Starting tomorrow morning. Harriet Beamer is taking the bus, and no one can stop me.”

  That evening Harriet packed her rolling suitcase. It was purple with silver zippers. She packed only a few articles of clothing — two dresses, two pairs of capris and coordinating tops, her toothbrush, deodorant, things of that nature. She knew she would have to pack light. “I can always buy anything else I might need on the road,” she said as though Humphrey was still right next to her. She even looked down once or twice expecting to see him. She already made sure she had a full month’s supply of her blood-pressure medication, and while she was at the CVS she even purchased a rain poncho in a plastic package. She packed all her other clothes in boxes that Martha said she would ship later. She cried once when she found one of Max’s shirts stuffed in the back of a drawer. It still smelled like him, well, just a smidgen.

  Even after a long day of packing Harriet didn’t sleep well. She took an Excedrin PM. It didn’t help. Not much. She dozed and woke. Dozed and woke. The butterflies in her stomach had morphed into something that felt more like hopping toads. Her last night at home did not pass quickly, but it did pass. As the sun broke, Harriet’s mood rose along with it.

  “Okay, Lord,” she said as she dressed. “If I’m doing this, you’re coming with me.” She smiled. “I know, like you’d ever let me go alone.”

  Harriet moved her suitcase and tote to the entryway and took one final look at her now nearly empty house. She sniffed back tears and sighed deeply. “Good-bye, house. Good-bye Max. We had a great run.”

  After locking the front door for the last time, Harriet met up with Martha. She handed her the key. “Thanks for coming to the bus stop with me.”

  “You sure you have everything you need?” Martha asked.

  “I have my tote bag filled as full as I can with stuff that I might need to get to easily — you know, my cell phone, a book, my wallet, tissues, pictures of Humphrey and Max, stuff like that. And I packed everything else in this suitcase.”

  “Okay, but promise to call me and send me some postcards.”

  Harriet hugged Martha. “I will. And you can call me, you know.”

  “I will.”

  The bus to West Chester pulled up right on time, 7:10 a.m. Harriet froze the instant the door opened.

  “Go on,”
Martha said.

  “I … I can’t. Oh my goodness. Am I really doing this?”

  “Yes.” Martha gave Harriet a slight nudge. “You’re really doing this.”

  “Are you coming, lady?” said the driver. “I got a schedule to keep.”

  Harriet couldn’t move. Her nerves tingled all over. “I … I don’t —”

  “You’re going,” Martha said, and she gave Harriet another nudge.

  Harriet stepped into the bus. She had her tote over her shoulder and used both hands to lug her suitcase up the three small steps. She cringed at each bump.

  “Cash or card?” the driver said.

  Harriet put two one-dollar bills into the bill acceptor and headed down the aisle. She dropped into the first seat she saw — a window seat. The bus pulled away. Harriet waved to Martha as a big tear slid down her cheek.

  At the next stop a large bald man with scary tattoos on both arms and his neck sat next to her.

  She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t eat her.

  “Hello,” Harriet said.

  The man only grunted.

  “I’m going to California, well, eventually. First I’m going to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. How about you?” Harriet sniffled. She knew she had to be brave and thought small talk would help hide her anxiety.

  The bus driver pulled against the curb. The large tattooed man got up. “Don’t think this bus will get you that far,” he said. And then laughed.

  “Well, no not this bus but a lot of buses.”

  Then a woman wearing a pink hat and tight white pants sat next to her.

  “Hello,” Harriet said. “Do you know how far this bus goes?”

  “Just to the university. West Chester University, I think.” The woman’s breath smacked of cheddar cheese.

  “Oh, the university. I’ve never seen the university, as long as I’ve lived here I’ve never seen it. Oh, I’ve driven close by it but never actually saw it.”

  “That’s nice,” the woman said. She had turned her attention to the other side of the bus. That was when the thought struck. There must be millions of buses in the country. But I wonder if it’s even possible to make so many connections.

  She tapped the woman in the pink hat. “Excuse me, but do you think it’s possible to take public transportation all the way to California?”