The charter bus rolled to a stop at Blackway station at 7:00am on Sunday morning.
Sam lifted her head off her folded jacket and squinted at the first rays of light.
The bus driver looked over his shoulder at Sam.
“Time to get out, hon,” Levon said, “Betty and Hank are outside waiting for ya.”
Sam Buford grabbed her backpack from under her seat. She climbed down onto the sidewalk and made her way to the side compartments on the bus to collect her battered suitcase.
“Samantha? A female voice said , “Is that you?”
Sam turned around to see her aunt Betty and uncle Hank getting out of a 80’s era Ford F-150 and walking up to the idling bus.
Betty had shoulder length red hair with a few stray curlers still in it. She looked tired and worn but her arms were open and extended towards Sam.
Her husband stood a step behind her with one hand on his wife’s back. Hank looked to be a few years older than Betty.
His face was weathered and stern. His slate grey eyes were inscrutable. However, Sam could see a slight smile at the corners of his lips that told the real story.
Betty pulled Sam into her arms. She smelled like cigarettes and a subtle perfume Sam couldn’t place.
“Baby, we’re so sorry,” Betty said as she held Sam close.
“Hey, little bit,” Hank said, grabbing Sam’s bag and putting it in the bed of the truck. “what brings you into town?”
There was an awkward moment where no one said anything.
Hank cleared his throat, smiled sheepishly and said “sorry, hon, that sounded hilarious in my head. C’mon, let’s put the rest of your stuff in the truck.”
Sam was still too numb to have an opinion about the joke or much of anything, but she smiled up at Hank and said thank you to Betty.
The Bufords took the hint. Hank helped Sam into the truck. They left the bus station and drove to the Buford’s house in silence.
Sam knew they meant well. She was certainly in no position to judge or have different expectations. At any rate, this was her home, at least for now. Sam fell asleep somewhere on the drive.