Finally, my bus was announced, my suitcase stowed underneath, and we were on our way. When the door closed and we began to move, I felt a long tremor of relief flood me, and I had to cover my eyes with my hand as a wave of emotion hit me.

“Okay there, dear?” the elderly woman sitting beside me asked. With her gray hair and twinkling blue eyes, she looked like a picture postcard for a grandmother.

I wiped my eyes. “Left a bad situation,” I murmured.

“Oh. Well, best out, then.” She agreed. She reached into her bag, pulling out a sack of apples. She chose one, then offered me the bag. Unable to resist, I accepted one and bit into the crisp, sweet flesh.

Monica, it turned out, was going to a town just before Lomand. She spent the first hour of the trip telling me about the area and all her grandkids. It was a good distraction, and I appreciated it. She gave me her number, insisted on taking mine, and told me to come and visit, then advised me if my new job didn’t work out to come to her and she would make sure I was looked after. I sputtered out my thanks, but she waved me off.

“You remind me of my Julie. She’s a ginger, too. Takes after my own father with that coloring and all those freckles. I’d like to think if she were in trouble, someone would help her. Just passing it on.”

She hugged me before she got off the bus. “I’ll be checking on you, child.”

“I look forward to it.”

When we arrived in Lomand, the bus driver told me he was doing the same route the next day and instructed me to be at the same corner tomorrow and he’d take me on to Littleburn. I thanked him, marveling at the kindness I’d experienced so far today. It made me feel better than I had in a long time.

I found a small motel I’d seen online the night before. The rooms were cheap and the place was deserted, so they let me in right away. I shut the door, sank onto the bed, and was asleep in five minutes, exhausted from the past few days of stress.

I woke up confused, hungry, and thirsty, shocked to see I had slept for almost six hours. I grabbed my stuff and had a shower, then changed into fresh clothes. I brushed out my hair, feeling the positive effects of the long nap and the easing of the stress being in that apartment had caused me. I felt more like myself, not a scared girl. Briefly, I wondered if Terry had realized yet I was gone or was lying in wait for me.

Satisfied, I headed out, stopping at the office to ask about a place to eat. The woman pointed to the left, telling me there was a restaurant and bar about two blocks down. I walked that way, stopping to peek into a few windows. There were some nice little shops in town, and once I had some money, I would come back and look around.

I found the restaurant, the neon sign, Zeke’s Bar and Grill, hanging over the sidewalk, the arrow pointing to the door. I hesitated before entering. I hated going into bars or restaurants on my own, but I was starving and needed to eat. Summoning my courage, I opened the door and stepped inside. The place was bustling, and the smell of the grill hit me, the air heavy with the scent of meat cooking. My mouth watered, and I looked around for a place to sit. The tables were all occupied, but I spotted an empty stool at the end of the bar and headed that way. A woman was busy wiping down the counter, and I plucked a small menu from the holder in front of me. When she came over, offering me a friendly greeting, I ordered a cheeseburger and fries, and a glass of red wine, deciding I could treat myself tonight. I also asked for a glass of water, and I sipped the icy cold liquid as I looked around the place. It was obviously a gathering place for locals, the people in the crowd greeting one another, conversations happening between tables. The walls were thick planks of wood, scarred and worn, with a lot of posters and farm implements hung on them. The floor was buffed to a high gloss, but you could see the years of wear. Simple tables, sturdy chairs, and a well-stocked bar spoke of a place you could sit, have a meal, a drink, and relax. I noticed a few looks I was getting, but they didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was a new face in a sea of familiarity. I met a couple of gazes, then took out my phone and started a game of FreeCell. My dad had got me addicted to it years ago, and I still loved playing it. It would keep me busy until dinner came. I was grateful at that moment that my cell phone number had never been listed on the lease. At least Terry had no way of getting ahold of me. I was safe.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Reynold's Restorations Suspense
Source: readsnovelonline.net