Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,50

as he could, easing the seat back from its uncomfortable position to one only marginally more restful. He thought he might sleep. Night had fallen and the bus was dark.

Until, that was, the old lady who'd stolen his seat turned on her light. "Musta dropped a stitch," she muttered, fingering the pile of pink yarn in her lap. "Dang. Why's that always happen?"

She shoved the straggly mess toward Hal. "Here. Can you see if there's a hole in there anywhere?"

Hal squinted half-heartedly at the mess and shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"Huh." His seatmate grunted. "Dang."

She turned off the light. Hal closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His mind whirled with thoughts of Laila.

The lady turned on the light again. "Sonny, c'mon. Help an old lady out. If I don't get this stitched up right my Poochie's gonna be wearing a sweater with only three legs."

Gritting his teeth, Hal snatched the sorry looking pile of pink yarn and squeezed it. "There. Is that what you're looking for?"

"That's it, all right." The old lady nodded vigorously and began unraveling her creation. "Perfect."

Hal leaned back again. The clack-clacking of the needles next to him was soothing. Despite the annoying overhead light, he began to drift.

"What's her name anyway?" his seatmate asked abruptly.

Hal's eyes flew open and he sat up. The old lady kept clacking contentedly. "What?"

"The name of the lady who done made your face turn so sour." She peeked over at him with a wry grin on her wrinkled face. "There is one, ain't there? A lady?"

"I'm trying to sleep," Hal said unkindly.

"Sure, sure," said the old lady without offense. "Just thought you might like to talk about it, that's all."

Hal settled further into his uncomfortable seat. Another four hours on this bus seemed unbearable. Maybe he'd get lucky and they'd hit some sort of freaky time warp or something.

Time Warp. Laila. He thought of her singing that ridiculous song, and he groaned.

"C'mon, sonny," prompted the old lady. "Tell me all about her. She's pretty, I'll bet."

"Yes," Hal said reluctantly. "Very pretty."

"But you walked away from her." The clacking paused, and she reached down to the bag between her feet and pulled out a skein of orange yarn. Her needles flashed as she started knitting again.

"It was what she wanted," Hal said.

"But not what you wanted?" She looked at him shrewdly. "You couldn't change her mind?"

"It's not that simple," Hal said. He thought of trying to explain the situation and found he couldn't.

"Ain't much in this world that is, sonny." The lady chuckled again, knitting furiously. "Ain't much that is."

Hal finally fell to sleep with the sound of her needles clacking in his mind. He didn't dream, or if he did, they were bland and forgettable. When he woke, it was in the Harrisburg station.

"Don't look so down, sonny," his seatmate advised him as he helped her off the bus. "Thing's always work out for the best."

The best would be if Laila had told him what he wanted to hear. Since I don't have that, Hal thought, I'll just have to hope something else comes along.

The morning sun was just beginning to break when he finally got home. The cab driver offered to help him wrangle the overstuffed suitcase up the stairs to his apartment building, but Hal didn't have enough money to tip the guy any more. He said he'd do it himself.

"Take care, buddy," the driver said with a tip of his hat. "Get some sleep. You look like you need it."

As much he might seek to avoid thinking of Laila in the solace of sleep, he wasn't tired. He set about unpacking his case by tossing the entire contents onto his bed. Of everything he'd packed, he'd used only a few things.

"So much for being prepared," he said to the empty room.

His voice practically echoed, and for the first time, Hal took the time to really look around. He'd lived in this apartment for a year now. The walls were still bare and dingy white, without so much as a cheap, framed print to brighten them. The furniture, what little he had, was a jumbled mix of Salvation Army bargains and expensive items he'd managed to salvage from his divorce. His bed was nothing more than a bare mattress and box spring laid on the floor, his linens mismatched and ugly.

Hal sat on his pitiful excuse for a bed and rested his head in his hands. He didn't miss the fancy house, the car, the luxury vacations. Truthfully,