Free Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus by Joyce Magnin Page B

him choke on a slice of apple.
    Humphrey yowled and wagged his tail. He spun around three times and yowled once more.
    “Why is my mother’s wild trip across the country funny?” Henry asked. He felt a little hurt.
    “It’s not only funny,” Mrs. Caldwell said, “it’s genius.”
    “Genius?”
    Mrs. Caldwell chewed and swallowed, all the time looking straight at Henry. He thought she was sizing him up or something. “Yes, dear, did she
want
to move?”
    Henry shook his head. “I … I suppose. She’s coming.”
    “Seems to be taking her time.”
    “Ahhh, so you think this is her way of …”
    “Avoiding the inevitable. Feeling young again? Making one last stand?”
    “Oh, gee, I never looked at it that way. So maybe I should just let her do it her way? She did say she wanted to see the country.”
    “Well, then, she knows what she’s doing. She’s a grown woman. She’ll ask for help if she needs it.”
    “I’m worried she’ll get lost or meet with some unsavory individuals.”
    “She might. But that could all be part of the adventure. I admire her.”
    Henry finished his pie. “Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell. Maybe I need to look at this from her perspective.” He scraped the side of the fork across the plate, getting the last of the cinnamony apple goodness.
    Mrs. Caldwell sliced a second piece for Henry. “Here you go. Now, tell me what else is on your mind.”
    Humphrey made a noise. He wagged his tail. He even twirled around and chased his tail just for good measure.
    “Would Humphrey like some pie?” asked Mrs. Caldwell. “Or is that not allowed?”
    “I can’t see a problem with pie. My mom feeds him donuts.”
    “Your mother sounds like a woman I can be friends with,” Mrs. Caldwell said as she gave Humphrey some pie. She looked into Henry’s eyes and said, “I’m glad we talked about your mother, but I get the feeling your heart is still heavy. You want to tell me?”
    Henry swallowed. “Writer’s block.”
    Mrs. Caldwell smiled. “Don’t know much about writer’s block, but if it’s anything like constipation, well, that I know about.”
    Henry laughed. “As a matter of fact, there are similarities.”
    “Well, it just seems to me, dear,” Mrs. Caldwell continued, “that the best thing for you to do is go back to your desk and start writing. Even if you don’t write what you like I suspect the good words will find their way out. Sitting here with me — as delightful as that is — won’t get that book written.”
    “I know. You’re right.” Henry eyed the remaining pie in the tin.
    Mrs. Caldwell laughed. “Oh, go on, take the rest of the pie.Maybe it’ll help you figure out your story or whatever you writerly types do.”
    “You sure?” Henry said. “I mean, I don’t want to take the last of your pie.”
    Mrs. Caldwell grabbed a box of plastic wrap from a drawer. “Yes, you do. And that’s okay. I always have pie.”
    Henry and Humphrey said their good-byes to Mrs. Caldwell.
    “Come on, Humphrey,” Henry said with a tug on the leash. “Let’s go home. I think I have an idea that will work for my ending.”
    Humphrey barked and looked up at Henry as if to say, “I believe in you too.”
    Henry leaned down and patted his side. “You’re a good dog.”

Chapter 9
    A ROUND 9:00 P.M.THE C RESCENT LINE TRAIN PULLED INTO the Charlottesville, Virginia, station. Harriet especially enjoyed the sensation and sound of the train slowing down as the driver blew the horns. It was like they wanted the whole world to know that they had arrived. Harriet was beginning to develop a fondness for train stations and was starting to feel like a veteran train traveler, like maybe she should even get some sort of badge for her adventuring. She decided to take the time to visit the ladies room — fortunately she didn’t need to get off the train.
    The bathroom on the train was nicer than the one at the Baltimore Station — cleaner, brighter, and smelled a whole lot better. A bit