Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus by Joyce Magnin

like lilacs. But on her way back to her seat, the evening took a more interesting turn. She noticed the young woman she saw earlier at Union Station. She was sitting with her head against the window, and if Harriet was correct she had been crying.
    Harriet immediately asked forgiveness for jumping to conclusions about her earlier that day. She had obviously mistaken her for a surly, young … well, Harriet would never actually use the word.
    “Hello,” Harriet said. “I remember you from the station.”
    The young woman looked up at Harriet.
    “I still don’t know about sneakers,” she said.
    “No, that’s okay. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been crying.”
    The woman looked away, out the window. But Harriet could still see her reflection in the glass thanks to the train lighting.
    Harriet sat in the seat next to her. “Now listen. I might have only had one son and not much experience with girls — unless you include my daughter-in-law. But I can always tell when someone’s been crying.”
    The woman sighed. “Please, leave me alone.”
    “I will, I will,” Harriet said. “But I want you to know I’m a good listener. At least that’s what Martha, she’s my friend back home — in Philly — said. I’m going to California because my son and his wife said … oh dear, I’m rambling.”
    That was when the young woman smiled. “Do you always do this … tell your life story to strangers?”
    Harriet let go a slight chuckle. “Only the nice ones.”
    The young woman smiled.
    “How old are you, dear?” Harriet asked.
    “Twenty-three.”
    “What a great age. You have your whole life ahead of you. And I suppose you have a name. I’m Mrs. Beamer. Mrs. Harriet Beamer.”
    “Tess.”
    “Tess. A very pleasant name.”
    “I suppose,” Tess said with a sniffle.
    “And it suits you just fine. Anyhoo, where you headed?”
    Tess shook her head and then leaned against the window. “Home.”
    “Home? Why, I would think that would make you happy. Isn’t that what Dorothy said, ‘There’s no place like home'?”
    “Not exactly. I … I should be on my way to Bermuda.”
    “Bermuda? Well, honey, if that’s where you’re going, you are definitely on the wrong train.”
    Just then the train started to move, and the man who was originally sitting next to Tess returned. He stood, looking annoyed.
    “Excuse me,” he said, “but I think you’re in my seat.”
    Harriet looked up. He was tall, stocky, and wearing a three-piece suit with the tie loosened and crooked.
    “Oh dear, I want to keep talking to Tess. You can take my seat. It’s just over there.” She pointed. “It’s a window.”
    The man looked from Harriet to Tess and then back again. “Fine. Just let me get my magazine. Uh, you’re sitting —”
    Harriet moved to the side and reached under her bottom. “I’m sorry. I sat on your
Time.
“ She handed it to the man. “You’re a nice man.”
    The man snatched it and made his way down the aisle toward Harriet’s seat.
    “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, Bermuda …”
    Tess continued to peer out the window, making Harriet feel that perhaps it would be best if she went back to her seat. She still had quite a ways to go before Greensboro.
    “Okay, dear,” Harriet said. “Sometimes you just don’t feel like talking. I can certainly understand that. I’ll just go back to my seat and send old Crooked Tie back.”
    Tess turned back to Harriet. “I’m sorry. It’s … it’s just that I should be on my … my —” Tess busted into a flood of tears — “honeymoon.”
    “Oh dear, oh dear me,” Harriet said. She grabbed Tess’s hand and patted it. “What in the world happened?”
    “Gordon, that’s my fiancé's — ex-fiancé's — name, he … he left me, stranded, at the church.”
    “You mean he just left?” Harriet felt her dander rising but knew that keeping her cool was important under this kind of circumstance.
    “No. He never showed up. We held up the ceremony for two