The Gift by Danielle Steel Page B

she had one.
    “Going to Chicago, miss?” the driver asked, as she sat down, feeling suddenly grown up, and very independent.
    “Maybe,” she said with a smile. She could go anywhere, and do anything. She was free. She answered to no one now, except herself, fettered only by the baby growing inside her. She was three and a half months pregnant now, and nothing showed, but she could feel her body growing. She began thinking about what she would tell people wherever she arrived. She'd have to explain how she got there, and why she'd come, and why she was alone, once they discovered she was pregnant. She would have to get a job. There wasn't much she could do. But she could clean house, work in a library, baby-sit, maybe work as a waitress. She was willing to do almost anything as long as she was safe. And until she found a job, she still had the money her father had given her for the convent.
    They stopped in Omaha that afternoon. It was hot, but there was a slight breeze, and she felt a little sick from the long ride on the bus, but she felt better after she ate a sandwich. Other people got on and off, and most of them seemed to ride from one town to the next. She had been on the longest when they stopped that night in a picturesque little town that looked clean and pretty. It was a college town, and there were lots of young people in the restaurant where they stopped for dinner. It reminded Maribeth a little bit of a diner, but it was nicer than that, and the woman who waited on her had a dark well-tended pageboy, and a big smile as she served Maribeth a cheeseburger and a milkshake. The hamburger was great, and the check was small, and there seemed to be a lot of laughter and good spirits coming from several of the other tables. It seemed like a happy place, and Maribeth was reluctant to leave and go back to the bus, but they were riding straight through en route to Chicago. As she left the restaurant, she saw it. A small sign in the window offering work to waitresses and bus-boys. She looked at it for a minute, and then walked slowly back, wondering if they'd think she was crazy, or if they'd believe whatever story she invented.
    The same waitress who had waited on her looked up at her with a smile, wondering if she'd forgotten something. Maribeth seemed to be hesitating as she stood there and waited.
    “I was wondering if … I … I saw the sign … I was wondering about the job. I mean …”
    “You mean you want work,” the other woman smiled. “No shame in that. It pays two dollars an hour. Six days a week, ten-hour days. We kind of rotate our schedules, so we get a little time home with our kids. You married?”
    “No …I …yes …well, I was. I'm a widow. My husband was killed in …Korea …”
    “I'm sorry.” She genuinely seemed to mean it, as she watched Maribeth's eyes. She could see that the girl really wanted the job, and she liked her. She looked awfully young, but there was no harm in that, so were a lot of their patrons.
    “Thank you …who do I talk to about the job?”
    “Me. You got any experience?” Maribeth hesitated, toying with a lie, and then she shook her head, wondering if she should tell her about the baby.
    “I really need the job.” Her hands were shaking as she held her handbag, hoping she would get it. Suddenly she wanted to stay here. It felt like a happy place, a lively town, and she liked it.
    “Where do you live?”
    “Nowhere yet.” She smiled, looking very young, and it tugged at the other woman's heart. “I just came through on the bus. If you want me, I'll get my bag and find a room. I could start tomorrow.” The other woman smiled. Her name was Julie, and she liked Maribeth's looks. There was something strong and quiet about the girl, as though she had principles and courage. It was an odd thing to guess about her, and yet she had a good feeling about her.
    “Go get your bag off the bus,” Julie said with a warm smile, “you can stay with me tonight. My son's