Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Day Three
Maisie stared out the window of the bus, rain sliding along the glass at a sideways slant as they clipped down the narrow countryside roads.
Talks of another gloomy day had already rippled throughout Bob, worries about the pouring rain putting a damper on the tour around Dunluce Castle. While Maisie had joined in the conversations, she couldn’t disagree more with their concerns.
With her blanket thrown over her leg, the pillow at her side, and a lidded cup of hot chocolate in her cup holder, she was cozy, happy, and content.
Just as she’d suspected, more and more of the passengers had talked to her about her setup, saying they were taking notes on what to do for their next bus tour. Even Renee had purchased a small throw for herself in Ballycastle and now placed it over her and Trifle.
Maisie loved being able to spread a little joy. Even if there were others on the bus who still thought her strange, she was far too comfortable to care.
Popping a handful of black current Millions in her mouth, Maisie turned her gaze from the pouring rain outside to her food journal propped open on her blanketed lap.
She wished she could stare out the window all day long, but unfortunately, there was work to be done.
After eating at Haddock’s Pub last night with Pearl, Renee, and Joyce, then spending the entire evening chatting with the couples who’d remained, she’d returned to the bus, then the hotel, falling asleep within minutes.
Unfortunately, her busy day and sleep-filled night meant that she had to work on the makeshift menu for Daphne right now. Any other bus tour, this wouldn’t have been a problem. But as her eyes continually drifted to where Finn sat in the driver’s seat, she had a feeling she was going to get next to nothing done.
She kept her gaze on him for a minute, the massive windshield wipers of the bus thwapping back and forth in front of him, clearing the view for only a few seconds before the rain gathered again across the glass.
Finn didn’t look back at her, clearly focusing on the wet road ahead of them, but she still couldn’t settle the worry flourishing in the pit of her stomach.
Something was off with him today—something had been off with him since last night. He’d disappeared after she’d sent the photos to him and had hardly said a word to her after that. When she’d boarded the bus that morning, he’d barely managed to send a tight-lipped smile at her before conversing with Joyce instead.
Maisie knew she could very well be imagining things, but she didn’t think so. Either he was upset with her pressuring him to have his photo taken, or he was uncomfortable with her asking for his number. Then again, maybe something else bothered him entirely.
Whatever the issue was, Maisie couldn’t do anything about it now, so she set her thoughts aside and attempted to focus again.
She stared down at her journal, flipping through the entries from Sweden, then Poland. Daphne had enjoyed the Polish food they’d tasted the most—but what were her top favorites ?
Maisie lifted her phone to ask her aunt herself, then paused. She’d woken up that morning feeling much better about the whole Daphne situation. Mostly because she’d decided to avoid telling her anything good about Finn for the moment, but hey, at least most of her guilt had subsided.
As her thoughts once more deviated off course and landed on Finn, Maisie snuck another glance at him. He was so cute. So…so tasty .
At the word, a thought blossomed in her mind, though she promptly set it aside. And yet, the more she tried to ignore it, the more the idea grew and grew until finally, she relented.
Knowing very well that she was acting like an absolute child, Maisie glanced around her to ensure no one could see her before turning to the next blank page in her journal and scribbling down an entry for Finn himself.
She’d always had a strict policy of including only foods, but she just couldn’t help herself. Smiling as giddy as a teen girl with a manic crush, she filled out an entire page with notes about the tour guide, finishing only when she doodled little hearts around the entry.
She pulled back and stared at her work with a satisfied smile. There. Now that she got it out of her system, she would be able to work. She just needed to remember to rip out that page and shred it into fine slivers so Finn or Daphne would never see it.
She didn’t know which of them would be worse to discover it.
Anyway. Back to work.
The second she returned to Poland’s entries, however, the bus jerked to a quick stop, and the journal nearly fell off her lap. A few gasps sounded, and Maisie looked ahead to see a full line of cars lined up directly in front of them, their bright red brake lights reflecting against the raindrops that clung to the spots on the window the wipers couldn’t reach.
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.
“Let me take her out,” she said. “I’ll hold up the umbrella to cover us both, and I’ll be more than safe. The doors let out right to that patch of grass there, see? I’m sure Finn will let me.”
Hope flickered in Renee’s eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
But Maisie insisted, and in the next moment, Renee secured Trifle in her bright pink coat, then handed over her precious bundle before Maisie grabbed her umbrella and took the pup to the front of the bus.
“Hey,” she said to Finn, who turned in his seat to face her. He smiled, though tensely. “I know this is probably against the ‘Bus Rules,’ or whatever, but do you think I can take Trifle here to do her business on that patch of grass right out there?”
Finn was silent for a minute, looking at the grass she motioned to, then back at Trifle. “We’re not really allowed to exit the bus on a road,” he answered hesitantly.
Where was his joking nature from before? Was he really that put off by what she’d done?
“What about in case of emergencies—like a dog peeing all over Bob?”
He looked up at her, a sparkle in his eyes before he blinked it away. “Aye. But perhaps I ought to be the one to take her out?”
Maisie blew out a small laugh. “Good idea. Let’s see if you can make the dog who hates you do her business.”
A smile flicked at his upper lip, then with a sigh, he motioned to the doors. “Alright, just make it quick, like.”
Maisie nodded, feeling more energized by his response. Clearly, he couldn’t help but want to smile around her—so why was he not allowing himself to?
Finn opened the doors, and she stepped outside of them and out onto the grass, popping up her umbrella before lowering Trifle to the ground and holding the loop of her leash securely in her hand.
“Alright, puppy,” she said, “do your business.”
But Trifle just stood there. Her white hair stuck out in tufts at the front and back of the coat, one paw lifted from the grass, as if she couldn’t bear to touch the wet blades.
“Any day now,” Maisie mumbled.
Trifle didn’t move a muscle.
She glanced behind her, Renee’s eyes focused on her with an encouraging nod and smile. Mrs. Waterstone, who was situated a few seats behind Renee, was also looking out at Maisie, but in the next moment, she looked away with a bored expression.
Would she be complaining about Maisie next?
“Okay, Trifle, let’s go,” she said, facing the dog again.
Was there a command she was waiting for?
“Make,” she tried. “Go pee. Hurry up. Doo doo.”
But once again, nothing worked.
“Come on, nice little doggie,” she urged, a single shiver running through her. “I’m freezing and would like to go back inside. Wouldn’t you?”
This time, Trifle, at least, sniffed the ground.
Maisie looked back at Renee, but the woman merely smiled. So this was normal, then, taking an hour to go?
As Trifle sniffed the ground around her, Maisie glanced ahead of her to where all the cars were still lined up around the corner of a steep hill. At least no one was moving yet.
“Go, Trifle,” she said through clenched teeth as she smiled tensely at the dog, not wanting Renee to see her growing impatience.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she thought for a minute that Renee might have tried to brave the elements, but when Maisie turned around, her heart thumped against her chest at the sight of Finn.