Page 3 of December's Ride with Scar

So, when a customer at the diner told me about the mail-order bride website, I checked it out. By day I was working as a teacher, which I loved, and at night and weekends at the local diner, which I hated. No matter how hard I worked, I still couldn't seem to get ahead.

One night, after a little tequila, I filled out my profile, and two days later I had a phone interview. The woman asked me my reasons for joining the site, how I felt about getting married for love, and my thoughts of being a “trad” wife. She had to explain that one. But it's basically a traditional wife that does the cooking and cleaning and takes care of the house and doesn’t work outside the home. After some discussion, she explained the process to me.

The next step was a background check, which came back clean. Then, once I was approved, I was only up on the website for three days before I matched with Scar. That was also the day I got the eviction notice on my place, so I took a leap of faith and here I am.

“I always love passing through Mustang Mountain. It’s such a sweet little town. Always has the best little festivals and events.” An old woman leans across the aisle to tell me.

I've learned she is from a small town called Silver Creek and makes this trip regularly to visit family. She takes the bus, so she doesn't have to stress about driving and can read and relax while enjoying the scenery. It’s been nice conversing with her. After she saw all I had was a small bag of chips,she shared her sandwich with me at lunch.

“Well, this is me. I hope you will look me up so I can repay your kindness and buy you lunch,” I tell her.

She just shakes her head, saying,“Enjoy your stay and pay it forward.”

As the bus comes to a stop, I look out my window and instantly I spot Scar. Not because he's one of only two people waiting, but because I've memorized his photo on the website, from every angle. Something about that picture drew me in, making my insides feel funny. When I saw the man in that photo, I wanted to know him. That's why I agreed to this.

When his eyes lock on mine, I freeze in place. It's like he can see right down to my soul. Only the sound of the bus door opening and the bus driver announcing the stop was Mustang Mountain pulled me from his gaze.

Standing, I gather my things before making my way to the front of the bus, my mind racing. I could sit back down and ride to the next town, Silver Creek, I think, and get a job there. Then buy another ticket elsewhere. Anywhere. I've always wanted to see the ocean. I could work at some seaside shop.

But my feet keep carrying me toward the front of the bus, and before I know it, I’m climbing down the stairs and stepping onto the parking lot. I look up and Scar's eyes are on me again. When his eyes meet mine, he begins making his way toward me.

“Evelyn.” He says as a statement, not a question, but I still nod my head.

“Scar,” I whisper.

He too nods, and reaches out, gently taking the bag slung over my shoulder and my backpack. Then together we follow the bus driver to get my other bag.

“Just one bag?” he asks when I grab the well-worn duffle.

“Yeah, I didn't bring much,” I say.

Scar frowns, but doesn't say anything.

“My truck is this way,” he says, turning to walk toward the station parking lot.

He doesn't look to see if I'm following him, so I hesitate for a moment. I turn to look back at the bus. If I ran back and got back on the bus, I'm sure the driver would let me…

“Evelyn?” Scar asks.

Turning back, I see he's stopped and is watching me.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” I say, following him to his truck.

I guess I'm really doing this.

CHAPTER 3

SCAR

Once we are settledin the truck, the silence is more awkward and a little uncomfortable. So I decide to go along with what the guys have told her. No point worrying her, at least not right now when I can tell by the bouncing of her foot how nervous she is.

“How was your trip?” I’m hoping to break some of the tension.

“It was nice. Got to see a lot of the country I haven't seen before. With so many towns all done up for Christmas, it looked like something off of a TV show. Everyone was really nice. I got to talk to a few people on the bus and heard some interesting stories.” She smiles, remembering.

I love listening to her talk and the sound of her voice filling the cab of my truck. To keep her talking, I continue to ask her questions.

“What kind of stories?”

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