“Need some help?”
I look up to see the man who’d handed me the bus schedule. He sits down next to me, glancing at my duffel bag.
“There’s only one reason a young girl such as yourself would leave town in the night without a plan,” he tells me. I freeze instantly as he finishes, “You’ve run into a spot of trouble.”
I glance at his face, searching for a threat. But I can see only concern and perhaps a desire to help.
I give him a nervous smile and look back down at the bus schedule.
“It’s more like trouble seems to run into me,” I tell him.
He chuckles and sighs. “That’s true for some people,” he agrees. “Forgive me for saying this, but you’re in no condition to be travelling.”
I rest my hands on my huge belly and I feel an answering kick. A strong kick.
I bite down on my tongue to keep the emotion at bay.
“I’d rather not be traveling at all,” I concede. “But I don’t really have a choice.”
“I thought as much. Are you running from the father?” he asks bluntly.
I glance at him, my jaw tight. But I say nothing.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he tells me. “I know this isn’t my place and you probably don’t want an old man’s advice anyhow. But I tried running once. It’s no way to live.”
His words are hitting a little too close to home. I really don’t need to doubt my next move, but I can’t stop him, either.
Or maybe I just don’t want to.
“You gotta stand your ground and fight back,” he continues. “That’s the only way to do it.”
I sigh bitterly. “My situation is complicated.”
“It always seems that way,” he says. “Especially when you’re young. How old are you—nineteen, twenty?”
“Almost twenty-three.”
He waves a hand. “Too young to run.”
“You don’t know what I’m running from.”
“Perhaps.” He falls silent.
“Can you help me?” I ask, once the silence has stretched out long enough for me to know that staying is really not an option. “I need a quiet town. Somewhere I can have my baby.”
“How long are you planning on staying?” he asks.
“I don’t know. A few months, maybe longer,” I answer. “I just need somewhere quiet and safe.”
“There aren’t many places like that for a young single mother,” he tells me. “But if that’s what you’re looking for, take this bus.”
He points to the red line bus that leaves in an hour and ten minutes.
“It is not the most glamorous place in the world,” he admits. “But there are a few women’s shelters there. They’ll take you in, baby and all.”
“Women’s shelters,” I repeat.
“It’s the only place I can think of that doesn’t require paying rent.”