Page 31 of Unraveling an Enigma
Once I’m standing next to Megan, my eyes glance down at a piece of paper she is grasping in her delicate hand. Because her clutch is so firm, I can’t see what the white document is, but a logo of an interstate bus company is visible in the top right-hand corner.
Megan happily bounces heel to toe. Her light brown hair hangs freely down her back, framing her make-up free heart-shaped face. Her nude lips are curved into a smile, and her hazel eyes sparkle in the sun. Even in her dapper mood, her arms are covered with goose bumps, and the tips of her toes are a shade of blue. The expression on her face gives no outward appearance to her body’s discomfort at the chilly temperatures.
A dull ache stabs my chest.Is there no one in Megan’s life looking out for her?
The squeaking of brakes shrieks through my ears, closely followed by the smell of oil and polluted smoke. A large white coach with the destination “New York City” displayed in LED lights in the front window stops in front of Megan and me.
My brows scrunch as my confused eyes dart between Megan and the bus door that’s just swung open with a creak. Noticing my baffled expression, Megan’s gaze shifts to me, her curious eyes wandering over my face. After her avid assessment is finalized, she gestures for me to enter the bus with a brisk nod of her head.
“Oh. . . umm, I don’t have a ticket,” I stammer, my nerves making my voice shake.
Megan’s lips curve into a broad grin, exposing a chip in her front tooth. “The ticket office is through those doors.” She points behind me. Her voice is so weak she sounds like a young child instead of an adult.
My eyes stray in the direction Megan is pointing. A large circular logo for Bellevue Buses is displayed on the front door. The frontage sign states they specialize in traveling interstate in comfort and safety.
I return my gaze back to Megan. “Thank you.”
Megan tilts her head to the side and smiles before stepping into the bus. She hands her ticket to the overweight gentleman sitting in the driver’s seat, who is wearing a knitted vest, a long-sleeve shirt, and black trousers. The bus driver’s brows pull together close as his eyes roam over Megan’s attire.
I dip my chin in greeting when the lady “reading” the newspaper crosses the street and follows Megan onto the bus. She sits down in a double blue chair three spots down from Megan. My weary gaze follows the bus until it is nothing more than a blur on the horizon. I yank my cell phone out of my pocket and dial a memorized number.
“Do you miss me already?” jests Brandon playfully.
The cool wind chills my teeth when I smile. “I need a favor.”
“Another one,” Brandon says with a soft chuckle.
I giggle. “Megan Shroud was just seen leaving on a bus to New York. Can you please see if she purchased a one-way or a return ticket?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Brandon says. His fingers hitting the keys of his keyboard sounds down the line, along with his heavy pants of breath.
Brandon huffs. “It’s a one-way ticket.”
A sense of relief washes over me. Megan must have gotten the hint that Isaac’s brother isn’t interested in her. “Can you add Megan’s name to the travel database? I want to know if she purchases a return ticket.”
Brandon remains quiet, but I can hear paper ruffling.
“Brandon?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, I was nodding my head.” I can hear his smile down the line.
“Thanks, Brandon.”
“Anytime, Izzy.” His tone conveys the truthfulness of his statement.
While placing my phone back into my pocket, I catch sight of Harlow’s bakery at the end of the street. Other than the one message I got from Harlow after I left Cormack’s office, I haven’t heard a peep from her. We used to text each other numerous times throughout the day and call each other every night. I'd say she, along with everyone else, is still angry at my deceit.I guess there is only one way to clarify the situation.
On quaking legs, I make my way to Harlow’s bakery. Because it is only mid-morning, the inside of the bakery is pretty deserted. Harlow’s head lifts from replenishing the cakes fridge when she hears the bell chime above the door. Several heart-clenching seconds pass before her lips tug into an apprehensive smile.
Returning her uneasy smile, I span the distance between the entrance door and the bakery counter. We stand across from each other in awkward silence. Usually, when we are together, no one can get in a word between us.
“I’ve missed you, Harlow,” I admit, my voice shaky and full of emotions. We’ve only been friends for six months, but she is, without a doubt, my very best friend.
Tears form in her eyes. My heart gallops when she paces around the glass counter. She wraps her tiny arms around my shoulders and hugs me fiercely.
“I’ve missed you too, Izzy.” No longer capable of holding in my tears, they flow down my face. I return Harlow’s embrace with just as much enthusiasm.
Our embrace is interrupted by the bell chiming on the bakery door. In sync, Harlow and I shift our eyes to the other side of the room. Renee is standing at the door, holding a stack of white bakery boxes in her arms. Her eyes dart between Harlow and me.
