Runaway Sue

By Cynthia Hickey

 

Sue has always wanted to travel the Mother Road in her pink Mustang. She ditches the man she didn't love at the altar, tosses her veil out the car and takes off on her first real adventure. Along the way, she picks up a hitchhiker named James Deacon. A leather jacket wearing man with secrets and dreams of his own.Their journey takes the reader from Illinois to the end of the road in Santa Monica. Can they leave aside their separate dreams and come together for something bigger than either of them imagined?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hickey
• Release date: Oct 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223779216

Cynthia Hickey

Multi-published and best-selling author, Cynthia Hickey, has taught writing at many conferences and small writing retreats. She and her husband run the publishing press, Winged Publications, which includes some of the CBA's best well-known authors. They live in Arizona and Arkansas, becoming snowbirds with two dogs and one cat. They have ten grandchildren who them busy and tell everyone they know that "Nana is a writer."   

Book preview

Route 66 kiss

1

June 1956, Springfield, Illinois

I can’t. There was no way Sue Bardwell could marry Johnny Walker. Chosen by her parents because of his family’s money, she’d never been able to bring herself to love the arrogant millionaire.

She stepped out of her wedding dress and into a simple sundress decorated with bright flowers. She kicked off her pumps and slid her feet into sandals the color of Betty Sue. Upon graduation, her parents had gifted her with a 1955 Pink Mustang.

Hearing footsteps approaching the room set aside for the bride’s preparation, Sue grabbed her purse, her suitcase full of honeymoon clothes, envelopes with wedding cash, and dashed out a back door.

Sue! Her mother’s call chased her to her car.

I’m taking a road trip rather than get married. I’ll call you. Sue tossed her things into the back seat, climbed into the driver’s seat, and sped away from the church.

With each mile her burdens lifted just like the veil on her head. She turned onto Route 66 and let the veil flutter onto the road behind her. Goodbye, Johnny!

She didn’t care how long it took, how much money she’d been given, or where she would lay her head that night. All that mattered is she wasn’t marrying a man she disliked and she was going to Santa Monica, California. She didn’t plan on stopping for the night until she reached Joplin, Missouri.

My Baby Left Me came on the radio. Sue laughed. Johnny would be saying those words right about now. A twinge of guilt over her wedding guests pierced her, only to blow away on the wind. Her friends had told her many times that Johnny wasn’t the man for her. They’d understand. As for the rest, well, it couldn’t be helped. Better to inconvenience them momentarily than to tie herself to an unhappy marriage.

Her stomach rumbled and she pulled into the Cozy Dog Drive In for a hotdog and coke. Purchase complete, she headed west, stopping once to pull Her Leica camera from the trunk and take a photo of the Brown-eyed Susans growing next to the road.

She wanted to stop at Lincoln’s tomb, but if she didn’t want those who were sure to follow her to catch up, she needed to speed toward Joplin.

When she stopped at a Philips 66 station for gas as the sun was setting, she called home. She counted four rings before someone picked up.

Her younger sister Lisa, whispered, Suzy, is this you?

Yes. There’s no need to whisper.

When are you coming home? Mom’s in a tizzy.

No time soon. Let me talk to her. Sue leaned against the wall of the phone booth and closed her eyes.

Sue Bardwell, do you realize the embarrassment you’ve heaped upon your father and I?

Yes, and I’m sorry, but when it came time to walk down that aisle, I just couldn’t. Please try to understand. I don’t love Johnny. We’re far too different.

Her mother sighed. I do understand, dear, it’s only...well, your father and I wanted you to marry well. We’re only trying to look out for you.

I know, and I love you for it.

Where are you going?

I can’t tell you exactly, only that I’m headed for California. I’ll phone you every night when I stop.

I’ll wire you some money.

No, then Johnny will find out where I am.

Her mother gasped. Are you afraid of him? Was he mean to you?

Yes, mother, to both questions. Sue rubbed the bruise on her upper arm. I should have told you. Please keep my destination a secret.

We promise, Suzy girl. Her father picked up the other line. And I intend to have words with that fellow. You have fun, stay safe, and call if you need anything. Anything at all.

Tears stung her eyes. Thank you, Daddy. She hung up the phone and walked slowly back to her car. It wasn’t until she turned the key in the ignition that she remembered hearing a click as she spoke with her parents. Drat! She’d totally forgot about the party line. Someone was bound to tell Johnny.

~

Thanks for the ride. James Deacon hefted his knapsack over his shoulder and stepped from the back of the truck onto the side of Route 66 somewhere around Joplin, Missouri. A job on the Santa Monica pier awaited, and he wanted to get there as soon as possible.

Once the truck pulled away the night was as dark as pitch. He didn’t relish being out that late, alone, on a lonely stretch of road. He increased his pace, stepping onto the blacktop and out of the ditch he’d stepped into.

A horn blared, Elvis crooned from a radio, and James dove back into the ditch to avoid being run over by a Mustang. He fell to his hands and knees, pebbles biting into his skin. Of all the careless, foolhardy...

I’m so sorry. Are you all right? A woman’s soft voice stopped his internal tirade.

Of course it would be a woman driver. I’m fine. He got to his feet and retrieved his dropped pack. Could you not see me there?

If I’d seen you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I was singing to the radio, and not really paying attention, I’m afraid. I’m headed to Joplin. Can I give you a ride?

He glanced at the shadow of a petite girl. Are you in the habit of giving strange men rides?

No, but I’m also not in the habit of almost killing them. She giggled. Are you coming or not?

Sure. He tossed his bag in the back and vaulted over the door into the passenger seat. Wow. Nice Mustang.

Thanks. I’m Sue Bardwell.

He glanced over a petite auburn-haired girl, at least that’s what color he thought her hair was. Teeth flashed from a smile a bit too big for her face but as contagious as a belly laugh. James Deacon.

Oh, almost like James Dean. She drove the car off the shoulder and west toward Joplin.

Stop at that burger joint. My treat. James