Serendipity Springs

11 - 'Welcome to Whidbey Island.'

Once the ferry docked, instead of driving off, they were greeted by a lively, bustling scene just off the dock. A friendly, slightly rotund woman with a wide-brimmed hat and a bright scarf around her neck stood next to a large bus. She held a megaphone and smiled as she made an announcement in an energetic American accent.

“Alrighty, folks! If you’re headin’ to Serendipity Springs, hop on board! The bus to the Enchanted Pavilion is waiting, and we’re gonna have ourselves a fun ride. Welcome to Whidbey Island!”

Maverick nudged Oliver with a grin. “Looks like we’re not driving after all.”

“Thank God for that,” Aiden muttered. “I was not up for another round of Blake’s backseat driving.”

Blake shot him a look. “Oh, please. You can barely handle your own luggage, let alone driving.”

They all grabbed their bags and made their way to the bus, where a few people were already settling in. As they climbed aboard, the atmosphere hit them immediately. It wasn’t just any old bus ride. The seats were covered in brightly coloured patchwork quilts, and there were fairy lights strung along the ceiling. A cheerful man with a thick Irish accent was strumming a guitar near the front, and a group of passengers were already singing along.

“Bloody hell, this is not your average bus,” Oliver muttered, taking it all in.

The woman from earlier was now at the door, ushering them in. “Find a seat, make yourselves comfortable! This bus is takin’ you straight to holiday heaven, folks!”

The group exchanged looks. Blake raised an eyebrow. “Holiday heaven, is it? We’ll see about that.”

As they stepped into the bus, they realized they wouldn’t be sitting together. The bus was nearly full, with people from all over the world chatting excitedly. They found separate seats, each ending up next to a different stranger.

Oliver plopped down next to an older woman with a thick German accent, who was knitting furiously. She glanced up at him and smiled. “You’re here for ze festival, ja?”

“Er, yeah,” Oliver replied, trying not to stare at the knitting needles flashing between her fingers. “Quite excited, actually.”

“Good, good! It’s wunderbar. I’ve been coming for ze past five years! It’s like a fairytale every time.”

Oliver nodded, glancing out the window as the bus began to pull away. “I’m hoping it’ll be a bit magical. Heard there’s some talk of soulmates and that.”

The woman chuckled, her needles clicking faster. “Ah, ja. You believe in love at first sight, hm? Well, zis place has its ways. You never know.”

Meanwhile, Maverick found himself next to a couple from France. The man, Pierre, was wearing a beret and explaining to Maverick the joys of French cuisine in a thick French accent. “You ‘ave not truly lived until you ‘ave tasted un croissant from Paris. Not zees… how do you say… inferior versions you ‘ave ‘ere in America.”

Maverick grinned. “I dunno, mate. Ever had a bacon butty? Could change your life.”

Pierre looked confused. “Bacon… in bread? Mon dieu, you are strange, no?”

On the other side of the bus, Blake had landed next to a bubbly Australian woman named Sophie, who was dressed in bright floral clothing and had an infectious laugh.

“You’re gonna love Serendipity Springs, mate,” Sophie said, her accent bouncing with excitement. “The Pavilion is stunning! Last year, I nearly tripped over me own feet staring at all the lights.”