“I need a one-way ticket to anywhere,” Valerie Burrows
commanded the girl behind the bus counter in downtown Dallas. A
charred piece of her wedding veil sagged onto her face.
Impatiently, she flipped the singed lace away, her throat
closing off the tears that threatened her vision.
On what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life,
she reeked of smoke, not flowers, saw red not white, tasted bile
not cake.
Glancing up from the counter the clerk’s eyes widened,
making Valerie acutely aware of her appearance. On what was
supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she felt
traumatized, not joyous.
“Whe...re do you want to go?” the clerk stammered.
“Anywhere, as long as I leave in the next five minutes,”
Valerie insisted, wishing people would stop staring. So she
looked like a crazy woman. After this morning maybe she was a
little loco.
“The bus to Amarillo is loading now,” the agent advised,
her large brown eyes riveted to Valerie. “I have one seat left.
The one-way fare is sixty-five dollars.”
Though she preferred to travel by plane, there was no time
or way to get to the airport. She could take the bus or stay and
face the consequences of her actions.
Valerie dug the cash out of her Bottega Veneta purse and
handed the money to the ticket agent. “I’ll take it.”
Dirty lace from her wedding veil fell onto her face again,
so she yanked the offending garment off her head and threw the
veil on top of her matching Louis Vuitton luggage.
The beautiful lace of her Vera Wang wedding gown was streaked
with gray and black. Burn streaks made a crazy pattern on the
silk that didn't accessorize the seed pearls.
The heel of one of her Stuart Weitzman pumps had snapped
several blocks ago, and her feet were blistered. And yet her
heart beat on in spite of her ruined wedding.
The clerk handed her the ticket, sympathy in her dark eyes.
“The bus is ready. You’re the last one to board.”
Not even time to change. Head held high, spine locked in
place, she limped to the white steel carriage, her suitcases
trailing behind.
There, she handed her two suitcases to a gawking young man.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. “Just
load my luggage.”
She glanced up to see faces pressed against the glass
windows of the bus, gaping at her like she was a freak show.
Hadn’t these people ever seen a runaway bride in real life
before? Julia Roberts may have made the movie, but she didn’t
own the copyright to wedding disasters.
With her carry-on bag hanging from her shoulder, Valerie
marched up the steps of the waiting bus as if she walked around
in a wedding gown every day. The babble of sixty voices ceased
as she handed the driver her ticket.
He mumbled, “Lord, I need to retire.”
Her silk dress pressed against her legs and swished as she
made her way to the only empty seat on her getaway bus. Thank
God she’d ditched the petticoats in the Corvette.
A gray-haired woman glanced at her as she put her luggage
in the overhead bin.
“Hm hm hm, I can’t wait to hear this story,” the elderly
Hispanic woman said. “Are you all right?”
Valerie plopped in the seat, her ruined silk gown making a
mighty swish. She exhaled loudly, her heart aching, her eyes
blurring with unshed tears. For the last hour she’d been holding
her breath while making her escape.
But now, now all the pain she'd carefully controlled broke
free and she chuckled. Hysterical laughter rumbled from deep
inside her, echoed through the bus. A single tear rolled down
her cheek.
“I am now.
Sylvia McDaniel and her very supportive husband Don, the love of her life, live in Texas with son Shane, Putz the klutzy dachshund and Ashley our shy dachshund. During the day, she works for a small insurance agency, helping clients with their commercial insurance coverage. The weekends are spent working out in the garden until the temperature climbs above ninety degrees. Currently, she's written fourteen novels. Her novel, A Hero's Heart, was a 1996 Golden Heart Finalist. Sylvia is the President Elect of Dallas Area Romance Authors.
