Page 56

Finn’s voice traveled down the bus a moment later. “My apologies, ladies and gents. Looks like a bit of traffic ahead. I’ll keep you updated with any news I hear, but until then, enjoy this cracker weather from the comfort of Bob.”

He set aside the intercom, though his eyes remained fixed forward. After a few minutes without moving an inch, he placed the bus in park, and it shifted and grumbled in protest.

Maisie did her best to force her attention to the menu, but after another five minutes of the bus not moving, she leaned back with a shake of her head. This was hopeless.

The passengers began to whisper to one another, the air growing antsy. The Dünser’s baby at the far back of the bus fussed, and the chattering between couples and families grew a little louder.

After a few more minutes, Finn returned to the intercom, expressing his gratitude for their patience, but that only proved to make the others more restless.

Even Maisie, who was usually quite content waiting in lines or traffic jams, began to feel a little fidgety. After a quarter of an hour had passed by, Finn’s voice spoke out again.

“Sorry again for the delay, ladies and gents,” he said, his voice light, though his brow was creased with lines of worry. “I’ve just received word that a lorry’s tipped over ahead. They’re workin’ on cleanin’ it up right now, so we shouldn’t be too much longer. If you need to stretch your legs, feel free to do so while remainin’ on the bus, but please mind the rules.”

He lowered the intercom, and Maisie watched him, hoping to make eye contact, but his eyes remained forward.

Ignoring her disappointment, Maisie took to observing those around her instead. Most couples were on their phones, shifting impatiently in their seats. Behind her, the baby began to cry a little louder, and Maisie snuck a peek between the headrests to see Mrs. Dünser rummaging around in her bags as Mr. Dünser handed one thing after another to the little girl, who swatted away each new toy with red cheeks streaked with tears. Her blonde hair in inch-long piggies at the top of her head flinched with each movement.

Maisie’s heart reached out to them, the stress apparent across their features as they did their best to comfort the clearly overstimulated and sleepy child.

“Can you believe how loud she’s crying?” came Mrs. Waterstone’s voice, rising above the baby’s cries. “Why aren’t they doing something about it?”

Maisie glanced at the woman, her finger to her temples as she spoke with her husband. He grumbled something in response, his thumb scrolling up on his phone.

Mrs. Waterstone then sat forward in her seat, made an exaggerated motion to look down at the aisle at the Dünsers, and with a huff of impatience, rolled her eyes.

“I swear, if she was my child…” Mrs. Waterstone continued, facing forward again, shaking her head.

“Well, you know kids nowadays,” Mr. Waterstone responded distractedly.

Maisie winced. The Taylors—who were also from the States—hardly looked bothered by the crying baby, the teens chatting lightly as they pointed to something out the window. They were much closer to the Dünsers than the Waterstones, so why did the couple feel the need to be so vocal? It was people like them who gave a bad rap to the rest of the US.

Maise could only pray the little family hadn’t heard the Waterstones’ criticism. Clearly, they were trying everything. Mrs. Waterstone just wasn’t being patient enough.

The bus shuddered as it remained stationary, exhaust billowing out the back as Bob worked to keep the passengers warm and comfortable. Maisie continued her perusal of the passengers—the Beauchênes from France were standing and stretching their backs while the Uncks from the Netherlands were taking turns writing notes down on a piece of paper they shared.

When she looked to the front of the bus—taking extra care not to stare at Finn again—Maisie noticed the English ladies speaking in hushed tones, their brows furrowed with worry.

Maisie hesitated. They were supposed to stay near their seats. But then, surely she could make a quick jaunt to the front of the bus to make sure they were okay.

With a quick glance at the back and front of the road to ensure all cars were still unmoving, Maisie hopped up, jotted up the aisle, then sat down on the seat behind Pearl and Joyce, Renee and Trifle on the opposite side.

“Everything okay, ladies?” she asked, leaning around their seats.

Renee frowned. “It’s Trifle,” she murmured.

“Renee thinks she needs to be let out to relieve herself,” Joyce said stiffly.

Clearly, the woman had no time for the dog, but her support for her friend pushed her to speak.

“The rain is too much for her, though,” Renee added. “And there’s no shelter outside for me or her.” She held the dog closer. “Poor dear has a nervous bladder, so I know she needs to go, but I’m sure we can’t get off the bus here of all places. I wouldn’t wish to get out on the road.”

“She’ll be fine, Renee,” Joyce said. “She just went before we left.”

But Renee was adamant. “I know she needs to go.”

Maisie bit her lower lip, looked out the window to the side of them, then glanced at the rearview mirror, where Finn’s eyes shifted between her and the other women.

With a nod, Maisie stood. She wasn’t about to encourage an elderly woman to go stand out in the rain for a dog—not when Maisie was perfectly capable of offering the service herself.