Friday, July 22, 2016

By Bus with Vicki - Part 8

Good morning FFFs,
It's quite right now. All five kiddos have decided to sleep in. :) It's been a busy week. We had people in and out of our house all Monday morning, I had election training that afternoon, and then I wrote in the evening. Then came Tuesday. I was able to get some things done that needed done. The four kids who were going to be staying here during the last homeschool convention (in Woodlands) were over for supper. The following morning (after Nephew #1 got up before 6 AM!!!), we discovered that the trailer loaded with all the Light of Faith stuff had a broken spring. Time for Plan B. My brother had to rent a truck to take things down. But that meant there was no room for Nephew #2. So, Sis-in-law dropped him and Ti-K off over here for breakfast while she helped unload the trailer and pack the truck. Nephew #2 was going to stay here with his siblings but Ti-K was going to the conference. They didn't pick her up until almost 1. And we've been busy ever since. It's too hot to play outside. We have heat warnings and the heat index is at least 106ยบ! So, we're finding things to do inside. And we have the kids until Sunday evening.

And in case you hadn't guessed, I haven't gotten anything written since Monday. I should be able to write next week. (I really hope so because both "Finding Joy" and "TCR-6" are knocking on my brain to be written.)

If you shared your votes, thoughts, and comments about this blog last week, THANK YOU! All the feedback has been very helpful in figuring out what I'm going to do. I haven't decided for sure, but I do know I won't shut the blog down. :) If you haven't voted, go read the last post and let me know what you think.

I hope you all enjoy this next part of Vicki's bus trip. :)

By Bus with Vicki
Part 8

"But don’t worry about when to get off, the driver of each bus will be instructed to make sure you get off and on at the right times and the right places.” The station master wiped his brow.
    “But what about my luggage that’s on the other bus?” queried Vicki.
    “I’ve already called ahead to the next station for that bus and it will be waiting for you at your end stop in California.”
    “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me. I didn’t mean to make so many problems. And I truly thought I was getting on the right bus. But then I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
    The older man smiled and patted her hand. “Now don’t you go fretting none. There’s nothing like little ladies like you taking the wrong bus to add a little excitement in an old man’s life. Why, Child, your hand is like ice!”
    Vicki grinned. “That’s because my warm jacket is on the other bus.”
    “Well, we can’t have that, now can we? You just wait right here. Don’t go anywhere.”
    “I won’t.
    In a short time Mr. Lynwood was back with a sweatshirt. “We have a small gift shop over there,” he nodded his head in the direction he had come from, “and I thought you needed something to remind you of your stop here.”
    Impulsively Vicki flung her arms around the older man and hugged him. “Thank you!” The sweatshirt, though it was too large, was warm, much warmer than her light sweater had been. “I’ll always remember you and this place when I wear it,” she promised.
    A horn sounded outside.
    “That must be your ride. Come along. Don’t forget anything.” And Mr. Lynwood hurried to the door of the station.
    Almost before she knew what was happening, Vicki found herself in the front seat of a sheriff’s car, waving good bye to the station master. Turning to look at the officer driving, she realized that he was an older man. “I’ve never ridden in a sheriff’s car before! But earlier today–no, I suppose it was yesterday–I got to sit in a State Trooper’s car for a little while. We had to wait for a grass fire to move away from the road before we could keep going. Are you the sheriff?”
    The officer shook his head with a chuckle. “No. I used to be the sheriff around here, but then I retired. Found out after six months of doing nothing, that I didn’t like it, so I came back to the force. Now I’m just Deputy Conway.”
    “I’m Vicki; well, really my name is Victoria, but I’m only called that when I’m in trouble.” Before the deputy had a chance to reply, she went on. “How are we going to catch the bus? You don’t have any lights or sirens on.”
    “Well, it’s this way. We know the route the bus has to take. Because the bus is so large, it can only travel on certain roads, but we can take the short cuts. And, one of the other deputies has gone up ahead to find and stop it for us.”
    Leaning one elbow against the window ledge, Vicki rested her cheek against her fist in thoughtful silence. “Am I going to make this bus late?”
    “I don’t think so,” Deputy Conway reassured. “They usually have some extra time in their schedule for little delays.”
    Thus assured, Vicki relaxed. Not feeling in the least bit sleepy, for the cold, the fresh air and the novelty of being awake and riding in a sheriff’s car at three-thirty in the morning had awakened her fully, she began to talk. She told the deputy all about the adventures she had already experienced on her bus trip, about the people she had met, and about how much she was going to enjoy staying with her married sister. “I don’t know if they’ll let me ride a bus back home,” she confided. “They might be afraid I’d end up in Alabama or Wisconsin.” She laughed at the thought. “Have you ever gotten on the wrong bus?”
    “No, can’t say I ever did, but I got lost in my patrol car first day as a policeman in Denver.” Finding that he had an interested listener, Deputy Conway told stories of his early days as an officer for the police department. Long before his supply of stories was ended, the flashing lights of a patrol car could be seen cutting through the darkness with the lights of a bus just ahead. “And it looks like we made it.”
    Vicki thanked Deputy Conway and asked him to sign her autograph book. “I got the State Trooper to sign it too. And the station master.”

    With a long sigh, Vicki pulled her legs up on to her seat and leaned back with her shoulder against the window. It was still too dark to see anything, the other passengers were asleep, and the driver wouldn’t talk to her. “Get some sleep,” he had told her after he had been given his instructions about her and she had been seated right behind him.
    “Maybe he’s just been having a bad night,” she mused, trying to see his face in the mirror, but failing. “I did make him wait for me, and maybe he doesn’t want to be distracted. Daddy doesn’t like us to talk to him all the time when he’s driving.” The warmth of the sweatshirt was relaxing. Scooting down, she spread her sweater over her legs and stared up through the large windows into the starlit heavens. “That’s a lot of stars . . . and God knows each of their names.” She yawned. “I don’t think I could even come up with that many names. Let me see . . .”

Have you ever ridden in a sheriff's car?
Have you ever tried to come up with names for all the stars you see?
Will you be back next week?

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