The fear didn't set in until Izzy was standing in line for a ticket at the train station. This was it. Once she bought the ticket there was no turning back.

At the counter, she hesitated. The plump man in front of her pushed up his round glasses with a finger. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"Ahem—yes—yes, you can." Her eyes shifted to the train pulling off behind them, the faces of passengers on board a blur in the window. Was there someone on board that train traveling to a strange, new place alone?

"Ah—Miss? There're quite a few people waiting behind you." The man raised his dark brows, his head tilting. "Are you traveling alone?"

"Yes," said Izzy quickly. "I'm meeting a friend in California, near Hollywood."

The man flipped through his registration book. "That would be the Sante Fe. That's a long ways for a young woman to be traveling by herself."

Izzy shifted uncomfortably. "What time does it arrive?"

The man cleared his throat, frowning. "You're in luck. That train only leaves out of here two days a week, and today is one of them. It leaves at four this afternoon."

Four? She hadn't had time to think her plan through. She'd acted purely on emotions up until then. Her father would be looking for her when he found the letter. It was possible he might come to the train station to find her.

"Is there another train arriving sooner that goes that way?" Izzy asked.

The man chewed on his pencil. "Are you in a hurry, Miss?" He chuckled. "Running away from the law or something?" He leaned forward, his face taking on a serious expression. "Or—your husband?"

Izzy took a step back. "No—I'm just running late. I should have left yesterday."

The man studied her. "The Sante Fe's the fastest route. All other trains out of here go to Chicago first. You'll need to check the bulletin board in Chicago to find the next train to Los Angeles. The next train to Chicago leaves in half an hour."

Izzy smiled, hoping he wouldn't ask her any more questions. "I'll buy a ticket for that one."

She fished in her purse for her money and handed it to him. The man's hand lingered on hers as he took it. "Be careful out there, young lady. Not every city is as safe as Grand Rapids."

"I will," she said quickly, taking the ticket.

She reached down and grabbed her suitcase, quickly moving along to the platform. With a shaky sigh, she crumpled onto the bench. The man at the ticket window hadn't been too far off—she was running away and she felt like a criminal for lying to her father.

She spent the next thirty minutes restlessly turning over in her mind all of the possible effects her leaving would have on her family. Would her mother hate her for leaving right after she had the baby? Would her leaving overcast the happiness they felt for the new baby? It would definitely be hard on Maria. Knowing her, she'd blame herself, thinking there was more she should have done.

By the time the train rolled in, she ended up sick to her stomach, writhing in guilt.

She clutched the ticket in her hand as she waited in line to board. The wind picked up, blowing her hair every which way and the clouds moved in to cover the sun. She shivered, it was as if the sudden change of weather was a premonition of things to come.

The excitement she'd started off with had all but disappeared when she settled into a seat inside the chair car. It was happening—she was traveling clear across America, by herself.

The train conductor took her ticket. By the time the train jolted into action, the rain was pouring down in sheets. It streamed against the windows, creating a warped view outside.

The train was quite crowded for a Sunday morning. Most of the passengers were businessmen, dressed in black or gray suits with matching fedoras and briefcases at their sides. There were a group of young men and women around her age who got out of their seats as soon as their tickets were taken and headed towards the lounge car.

Six hours later, the train pulled into Chicago. Izzy knew by that time her father had come home and found the note she'd left lying on her bed. She wondered what was going through his mind right then.

It was overcast when she stepped off the train. The smell of the pavement signaled it had rained earlier. She pushed past the crowd of commuters in the station, apologizing as she bumped into arms and luggage. Straining on her tiptoes, she struggled to see the billboard that displayed the next departure times above the fedoras of the tall men in front of her.

Her heart sped up. Six o'clock in the morning. The next train to California didn't arrive until the next morning—she'd need to stay overnight. She clutched her suitcase tightly in her hand, suddenly feeling very small in the crowded plaza.

She'd made a horrible mistake. She never should have left. She was just a clueless young girl. She knew nothing about the world—or anything, for that matter. She tried to catch her breath as panic set in.

Tears sprang to her eyes. No, no no! Don't cry! The worst thing she could do was cry. She needed to pull herself together and at least act like she knew what she was doing.

She remembered reading stories in the newspaper about young women going missing when they were traveling alone. In one horrifying tale, a woman was cut to pieces, her body parts scattered throughout the city where she was murdered. Izzy shivered, wiping her eyes.

According to the clock in the station, it was a quarter after five. She needed to find a place to stay the night. A safe place. Despite her current state of distress, her stomach rumbled—she also needed to find something to eat.

Pushing her way through the crowd, she made her way to the ticket desk and purchased her ticket for the next morning.

"Do you know of a safe place to stay the night?" she asked the young woman running the desk.

"Sure, the Regent Hotel is just a few blocks from the station," she said. "It's as safe as it gets around here."

Her makeup made her eyes look huge and flattering. She had raven hair, cut in a trendy bob. Izzy suddenly felt dull; her own hair long and in need of styling.

If she had any money to spare, she would cut her hair before she attended Rita's wedding. Perhaps she'd even buy a dress like the women she'd seen walking through the station; something shorter and sleeker. After all, she wasn't a schoolgirl anymore. She was a young woman, out on her own, forging her own path.

As soon as she stepped out of the station, her nerves sprang back. With a white knuckled grip, she clutched her purse in one hand and her suitcase in another as she walked down the street to the hotel.

"Hey baby—you're not from around here are you?" A man's voice called from behind her.

She froze.

"That's right hot mama! Let me get a look at you."

Without looking behind her, she picked up the pace, nearly running down the sidewalk.

"Cut the gas, dude, you're scaring her." Another man's voice trailed behind her.

Their footsteps were matching pace with hers.

"What're you scared of dolly? I'm not gonna hurt you."

She glanced behind her. Two younger men trailed her along the sidewalk. They wore dark sunglasses and leather jackets, their dark hair greased back. One of them, the one who'd catcalled her, she assumed, gave her a wide smile.

There were a few other people on the street, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to her current plight. If she ran, they'd surely catch her. She shivered. Perhaps the best thing to do was to confront them. And if that failed, she'd run screaming.

With a wave of courage, she spun around. The two men stopped, surprised. "Why are you following me?" she asked in her strongest voice possible.

"Cool it, baby. We just wanted to say hello—but you took off."

Izzy shifted, feeling uneasy. "Well then—hello. Sorry, but I'm in a hurry. I'm meeting my husband just down the street," she lied.

The one who'd smiled clicked his tongue. "I think you're lying, baby. Everything about you tells me you're alone."

She swallowed as her throat tightened. "Please leave me alone."

"Cut it out, Robbie, game's over," said the other man, eying Izzy sympathetically. "It's time to hit the road, she's not interested."

"Who says? She's just playing hard to get."

He reached out and grabbed a hold of her arm. With a yelp, she pulled away from him, dropping her suitcase.

"Come on, Dolly, don't be like that."

She turned and ran, her purse clutched tightly to her chest. She could hear them laughing behind her—she didn't stop—terrified images of her body parts being spread around the city filling her mind.

"Wait! Come back! You left your suitcase!" one of them yelled.

She didn't stop running until she was safe inside the Regent Hotel. And she didn't burst into tears until after she was alone in her hotel room—the deadbolt secure and a chair propped against it.

She laid in the springy hotel bed, curled herself into a tight ball and cried like a baby. Her suitcase was lying somewhere on the sidewalk outside and she was starving. She couldn't do anything about either one because she was scared to death to go back out. What was she doing? She didn't even know anymore.

Feeling helpless, she cried herself to sleep. She woke early, her stomach rumbling—screaming for food. She did her best to wash herself in the bathroom, with all of her clothes and bathroom supplies lost in her suitcase somewhere outside. A quick look in the mirror confirmed she was a horrid mess, and tears sprang to her eyes again.

Luckily, her train ticket was in her purse. She made her way to the front desk and returned the room key to the clerk. It was five o'clock in the morning and still dark outside. She stood at the door for quite some time before she worked up the courage to step back outside. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she walked back towards the train station, half expecting the two men to reappear, creeping out of the shadows.

She wished the tapping of her shoes didn't echo so loudly across the empty streets. Her suitcase was nowhere in sight. Everything was closed at that time in the morning, so she ended up back in the station, her stomach grumbling as she waited on a bench for the train to arrive.

The ticket had been more costly than she'd planned, but it included a small, private sleeping quarter on the train and three meals a day in the dining car. It would take four long days to reach California.

Once Izzy situated herself in the little room, her stomach finally full with fried eggs and pancakes, she was able to let herself relax. There was one small window to let the daylight in, and a small washing station built into the wall. As the train left the towering buildings of the city and raced across the miles of empty landscape, Izzy remembered the stories her father told her about her grandfather as a young boy, voyaging to America.

He stepped off that boat with nothing but the shirt on his back, her father would always say. The only thing he had to his name was the American Dream.

Izzy never thought in a million years that she would find herself in her grandfather's shoes. But there she was, practically living it.

There were a few stops along the way, and she hoped she would be able to find a few things to wear for a decent price. She'd need to use the rest of her money sparingly, or she wouldn't have enough to get back.

She pulled Rita's letter from her purse. Tracing the return address with a finger, she repeated it over and over in her mind, committing it to memory in case she lost it.

I just want to say thank you to all of the readers (both silent and not silent) of Unwed and The Fallen Girls. Thanks for all the support and encouragement.