A Bend in the Road (7 page)

The next time
he picked up the phone, he actually got to the sixth number before chickening
out.

That night,
lying in bed, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

• • •

On an early
Saturday morning in late September, about a month after he’d first met Sarah
Andrews, Miles stood in the fields of H. J. Macdonald Junior High School,
watching Jonah play soccer. With the possible exception of fishing, Jonah loved
to play soccer more than anything, and he was good at it. Missy had always been
athletic, even more so than Miles, and from her Jonah had inherited both
agility and coordination. From Miles, as Miles would mention casually to anyone
who asked, he’d inherited speed. As a result, Jonah was a terror on the field.
At that age, Jonah played no more than half a game, since everyone on the team
was required to play the same amount of time. Yet Jonah usually scored most, if
not all, of the team’s goals. In the first four games, he’d scored twenty-seven
times. Granted, there were only three people to a team, goalkeepers weren’t
allowed, and half the kids didn’t know in which direction they were supposed to
kick the ball, but twenty-seven goals was exceptional. Almost every time Jonah
touched the ball, he took it the length of the field and kicked it in the net.

Truly
ridiculous, however, was the burst of pride Miles experienced when watching
Jonah perform. Heloved it, secretly jumped for joy when Jonah scored, even
though he knew it was nothing but a temporary phenomenon and didn’t mean diddly
squat. Kids matured at different rates, and some kids practiced with more
diligence. Jonah was physically mature and didn’t like to practice; it was only
a matter of time before the others caught up with him.

But in this
game, by the end of the first quarter, Jonah had already scored four goals. In
the second quarter, with Jonah on the sidelines, the opposing team kicked four
goals to take the lead. In the third quarter, Jonah kicked two more, giving him
thirty-three for the year, not that anyone was counting, and a teammate added
one. By the beginning of the fourth quarter, Jonah’s team was behind 8–7, and
Miles crossed his arms and scanned the crowd, doing his best to appear as if he
didn’t even realize that without Jonah his team would be getting destroyed.

Damn, this was
fun.

Miles was so
lost in his reverie, it took a moment for the voice coming from off to the side
to register.

“You got a bet
riding on this game, Deputy Ryan?” Sarah asked as she walked up to him,
grinning broadly. “You look a little nervous.”

“No—no bet.
Just enjoying the game,” he answered.

“Well, be
careful. Your fingernails are almost gone. I’d hate to see you accidentally nip
yourself.”

“I wasn’t biting
my nails.”

“Not now,” she
said. “But you were.”

“I think you were
imagining things,” he countered, wondering if she was flirting with him again.
“So . . .” He pushed up the brim of his baseball hat. “I didn’t expect to see
you out here.”

Wearing shorts
and sunglasses, she looked younger than usual.

“Jonah told me he
had a game this weekend and asked if I’d come.”

“He did?” Miles
asked curiously.

“On Thursday. He
said that I would enjoy it, but I kind of got the impression he wanted me to
see him doing something he was good at.” Bless you, Jonah.

“It’s almost
over now. You’ve missed most of it.”

“I couldn’t
find the right field. I didn’t realize there would be so many games out here.
From a distance, all these kids look the same.” “I know. Sometimes even we have
trouble finding what field we’re playing on.” The whistle sounded and Jonah
kicked the ball to a teammate. The ball shot past him, though, and promptly
rolled out of bounds. Someone on the other team chased after it, and Jonah
glanced toward his father. When he saw Sarah, he waved and she returned the
wave enthusiastically. Then, settling into position with a determined look on
his face, Jonah waited for the throw to put the ball back in play. A moment
later, he and everyone else on the field were chasing after the ball.

“So how’s he
doing?” Sarah asked.

“He’s having a
good game.”

“Mark says he’s
the best player out here.”

“Well . . . ,”
Miles demurred, doing his best to look modest. 
Sarah laughed. “Mark wasn’t talking about you. Jonah’s the one out there
playing.”

“I know that,”
Miles said.

“But you think
he’s a chip off the old block, huh?”

“Well . . . ,”
Miles repeated, for lack of a clever response. Sarah lifted an eyebrow, clearly
amused.Where was that wit and charisma he was counting on?  “Tell me—did you play soccer as a kid?” she
asked.

“They didn’t
evenhave soccer when I was a kid. I played the traditional sports—football,
basketball, baseball. But even if they’d offered soccer, I don’t think I would
have played it. I’ve got a bias against sports that require me to bounce a ball
off my head.”

“But it’s fine
for Jonah, right?”

“Sure, as long as
he likes it. Did you ever play?”

“No. I wasn’t
much of an athlete, but once I was in college, I took up walking.

My roommate got
me into it.”

He squinted at
her. “Walking?”

“It’s harder than
it looks if you keep a fast pace.”

“Do you still do
it?”

“Every day. I
have a three-mile loop that I follow. It’s a good workout and it gives me a chance
to unwind. You should try it.”

“With all that
spare time I have?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“If I went three
miles, I’d probably be so sore I couldn’t get out of bed the next day. That’s
if I could even make it.”

She ran her
gaze over him appraisingly. “You could make it,” she said. “You might have to
give up smoking, but you could make it.” “I don’t smoke,” he protested.

“I know. Brenda
told me.” She grinned, and after a moment, Miles couldn’t help but smile as
well. Before he could say anything else, however, a loud roar went up and both
of them turned to see Jonah break away from the pack, charge down the field,
and kick yet another goal, this one to tie the score. As Jonah’s teammates
surged around him, Miles and Sarah stood together on the sidelines, both of
them clapping and cheering for the same young boy.

• • •

“Did you enjoy
it?” Miles asked. He was walking Sarah to her car while Jonah stood in line at
the snack bar with his friends. The game had been won by Jonah’s team, and
after the game, Jonah had run up to Sarah to ask her if she’d seen his goal.
When she’d answered that she had, Jonah had beamed and given her a hug before
scrambling off to join his friends. Miles, surprisingly, had been all but
ignored, though the fact that Jonah was fond of Sarah—and vice versa—left him
feeling strangely satisfied.

“It was fun,”
she admitted. “I wish I could have been here for the whole thing, though.”

In the early
afternoon sunlight, her skin glowed beneath the tan she still carried from the
summer.

“It’s fine. Jonah
was simply glad you showed up.” He glanced at her sideways.

“So what’s on
your agenda the rest of the day?”

“I’m meeting my
mom for lunch downtown.”

“Where?”

“Fred &
Clara’s? It’s a little place just around the corner from where I live.”

“I know the place.
It’s great.”

They reached her
car, a red Nissan Sentra, and Sarah started rummaging through her handbag for
her keys. As she searched for them, Miles found himself staring at her. With
the sunglasses perched neatly on her nose, she looked more like the city girl
she was than someone from the country. Add to that the faded jeans shorts and
long legs, and she sure didn’t look like any teacher Miles had ever had growing
up.

Behind them, a
white pickup truck began backing out. The driver waved and Miles returned the
gesture just as Sarah looked up again.

“You know him?”

“It’s a small
town. It seems like I know everyone.”

“That must be
comforting.”

“Sometimes it is,
other times it isn’t. If you’ve got secrets, this isn’t the place for you,
that’s for sure.”

For a moment,
Sarah wondered if he was talking about himself. Before she could dwell on it,
Miles went on.

“Hey, I want to
thank you again for everything you’re doing for Jonah.”

“You don’t have
to thank me every time you see me.”

“I know. It’s
just that I’ve noticed a big change in him these last few weeks.” “So have I.
He’s catching up pretty quickly, even faster than I thought he would. He
actually started reading aloud in class this week.” “I’m not surprised. He’s
got a good teacher.”

To Miles’s surprise,
Sarah actually blushed. “He’s got a good father, too.”

He liked that.

And he liked the
look she’d given him when she’d said it. 
As if uncertain what to do next, Sarah fiddled with her keys. She
selected one and unlocked her front door. As she swung the door open, Miles
stepped back slightly.

“So, how much
longer do you think he’ll need to keep staying after school?” he asked.

Keep talking.
Don’t let her leave yet.

“I’m not sure
yet. A while, for sure. Why? Do you want to start cutting back a little?”

“No,” he
continued. “I was just curious.”

She nodded,
waiting to see if he’d add anything else, but he didn’t. “Okay,” she finally
said. “We’ll keep going like we are and see how he’s doing in another month. Is
that all right?”

Another month.
He’d continue to see her for at least that long. Good.

“Sounds like a
plan,” he agreed.

For a long moment
neither of them said anything, and in the silence Sarah glanced at her watch.
“Listen, I’m running a little late,” she said apologetically, and Miles nodded.

“I know—you’ve
got to go,” he said, not wanting her to leave just yet. He wanted to keep
talking. He wanted to learn everything he could about her.  What you really mean is that it’s time to
ask her out.

And no chickening
out this time. No hanging up the phone, no putzing around.

Bite the bullet!

Be a man!

Go for it!

He steeled
himself, knowing he was ready . . . but . . . but . . . how should he do it?
Good Lord, it had been a long time since he had been in a situation like this.
Should he suggest dinner or lunch? Or maybe a movie? Or . . . ? As Sarah
started to climb in her car, his mind was sorting and searching frantically,
trying to come up with ways to prolong her time with him long enough to figure
it out. “Wait—before you go—can I ask you something?” he blurted out.  “Sure.” She looked at him quizzically.

Miles put his
hands in his pockets, feeling those little butterflies, feeling seventeen
again. He swallowed.

“So . . . ,” he
began. His mind was racing, those little wheels spinning for everything they were
worth.

“Yes?”

Sarah knew
instinctively what was coming.

Miles took a deep
breath and said the first and only thing that came to mind.

“How’s the fan
working out?”

She stared at
him, a perplexed expression on her face. “The fan?” she repeated.  Miles felt as if he’d just swallowed a ton
of lead.The fan? What the hell was he thinking? The fan?That was all he could
come up with?  It was as if his brain
had suddenly taken a vacation, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop. . . .

“Yeah. You know .
. . the fan that I got you for your class.”

“It’s fine,” she
said uncertainly.

“Because I can
get you a new one if you don’t like it.”

She reached out
to touch his arm, a look of concern on her face. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m
fine,” he said seriously. “I just wanted to make sure you’re happy with it.”

“You picked a
good one, okay?”

“Good,” he
said, hoping and praying that a bolt of lightning would suddenly shoot from the
heavens and kill him on the spot.

• • •

The fan?

After she
pulled out of the parking lot, Miles stood without moving, wishing that he
could turn back the clock and undo everything that had just happened. He wanted
to find the nearest rock to crawl under, a nice dark spot where he could hide
from the world forever. Thank God no one was around to hear it!  Except for Sarah.

For the rest of
the day, the end of their conversation kept repeating in his head, like a song
he’d heard on early morning radio.

How’s the fan
working out? . . . Because I can get you a new one . . . I just want to make sure
you’re happy with it. . . .

It was painful,
physically painful, to recall it. And no matter what else he did that
afternoon, the memory would lurk there under the surface, waiting to emerge and
humiliate him. And on the following day, it was the same thing. He woke up with
the feeling that something was wrong . . . something . . . and boom! There was
the memory again, taunting him. He winced and felt the lead in his gut. And
then he pulled the pillow over his head.

So how do you
like it so far?” Brenda asked.

It was Monday,
and Brenda and Sarah were sitting at the picnic table outside, the same one
that Miles and Sarah had visited a month earlier. Brenda had picked up lunch
from the Pollock Street Deli, which in Brenda’s opinion, made the best
sandwiches in town. “It’ll give us a chance to visit,” she’d said with a wink,
before running out to the deli.

Though this
wasn’t the first time they’d had the chance to “visit,” as Brenda put it, their
conversations had usually been relatively short and impersonal: where supplies
were stored, whom she needed to talk to to get a couple of new desks, things
like that. Of course, Brenda had also been the one whom Sarah had first asked
about Jonah and Miles, and because she knew Brenda was close to them, she also
understood that this lunch was Brenda’s attempt to find out what, if anything,
was going on.

“You mean
working at the school? It’s different from the classes I had in Baltimore, but
I like it.”

“You worked in
the inner city, right?”

“I worked in
downtown Baltimore for four years.”

“How was that?”

Sarah unwrapped
her sandwich. “Not as bad as you probably think. Kids are kids, no matter where
they’re from, especially when they’re young. The neighborhood might have been rough,
but you kind of get used to it and you learn to be careful. I never had any
trouble at all. And the people I worked with were great. It’s easy to look at
test scores and think the teachers don’t care, but that’s not the way it is.
There were a lot of people I really looked up to.” “How did you decide to work
there? Was your ex-husband a teacher, too?”

“No,” she said
simply.

Brenda saw the
pain in Sarah’s eyes for a moment, but almost as quickly as she noticed it, it
was gone.

Sarah opened
her can of Diet Pepsi. “He’s an investment banker. Or was . . . I don’t know
what he does these days. Our divorce wasn’t exactly amicable, if you know what
I mean.”

“I’m sorry to
hear that,” she said, “and I’m sorrier I brought it up.” “Don’t be. You didn’t
know.” She paused before forming a lazy smile. “Or did you?” she asked.

Brenda’s eyes
widened. “No, I didn’t know.”

Sarah looked at
her expectantly.

“Really,” Brenda
said again.

“Nothing?”

Brenda shifted
slightly in her seat. “Well, maybe I did hear a couple of things,” she admitted
sheepishly, and Sarah laughed.

“I thought so.
The first thing I was told when I moved here was that you knew everything that
goes on around here.”

“I don’t
knoweverything, ” Brenda said, feigning indignation. “And despite what you may
have heard about me, I don’t repeat everything Ido know. If someone tells me to
keep something to myself, I do.” She tapped her ear with her finger and lowered
her voice. “I know things about people that would make your head spin around
like you’re in dire need of an exorcism,” she said, “but if it’s said in
confidence, I keep it that way.”

“Are you saying
this so I’ll trust you?”

“Of course,”
she said. She glanced around, then leaned across the table. “Now dish up.”

Sarah grinned
and Brenda waved a hand as she went on. “I’m kidding, of course.  And in the future—since we do work
together—keep in mind that I won’t get my feelings hurt if you tell me I’ve
gone too far. Sometimes I blurt out questions without really thinking, but I
don’t do it to hurt people. I really don’t.” “Fair enough,” Sarah said,
satisfied.

Brenda picked
up her sandwich. “And since you’re new in town and we don’t know each other
that well, I won’t ask anything that might seem too personal.” “I appreciate
that.”

“Besides, it’s
not really my business anyway.”

“Right.”

Brenda paused
before taking a bite. “But if you have any questions about anyone, feel free to
ask.”

“Okay,” Sarah
said easily.

“I mean, I know
how it is to be new in town and feel like you’re on the outside looking in.”

“I’m sure you
do.”

For a moment,
neither of them said anything.

“So . . .” Brenda
drew out the syllable expectantly.

“So . . .” Sarah
said in response, knowing exactly what Brenda wanted.

Again there was a
period of silence.

“So . . . do you
have any questions about . . .anyone? ” Brenda prodded.  “Mmm . . . ,” Sarah said, appearing to think
it over. Then, shaking her head, she answered: “Not really.”

“Oh,” Brenda
said, unable to hide her disappointment.

Sarah smiled at
Brenda’s attempt at subtlety.

“Well, maybe there
is one person I’d like to ask you about,” she offered.  Brenda’s face lit up. “Now we’re talking,”
she said quickly. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, I’ve
been wondering about . . .” She paused, trailing off, and Brenda looked at her
like a child unwrapping a Christmas gift.

“Yes?” she
whispered, sounding almost desperate.

“Well . . .”
Sarah looked around. “What can you tell me about . . . Bob Bostrum?”

Brenda’s jaw
dropped. “Bob . . . the janitor?”

Sarah nodded.
“He’s sort of cute.”

“He’s seventy-four
years old,” Brenda said, thunderstruck.

“Is he married?”
Sarah asked.

“He’s been
married for fifty years. He’s got nine kids.” “Oh, that’s a shame,” Sarah said.
Brenda was staring wide-eyed at her, and Sarah shook her head. After a moment,
she looked up and met Brenda’s gaze with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, I guess
that leaves Miles Ryan, then. What can you tell me about him?”

It took a
moment for the words to sink in, and Brenda looked Sarah over carefully. “If I
didn’t know you better, I’d think you were teasing me.” Sarah winked. “You
don’t have to know me better: I admit it. Teasing people is one of my
weaknesses.”

“And you’re
good at it.” Brenda paused for a moment before smiling. “But now, while we’re
on the subject of Miles Ryan . . . I hear that you two have been seeing quite a
bit of each other. Not only after school, but on the weekend, too.”

“You know I’ve
been working with Jonah, and he asked me to come out to watch him play soccer.”

“Nothing more
than that?”

When Sarah
didn’t answer right away, Brenda went on, this time with a knowing look.

“All right . .
. about Miles. He lost his wife a couple of years back in a car accident.
Hit-and-run. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. He really loved her, and
for a long time afterwards, he just wasn’t himself. She was his high school
sweetheart.” Brenda paused and set her sandwich off to the side. “The driver
got away.”

Sarah nodded.
She’d heard bits and pieces of this already.

“It really hit
him hard. As a sheriff especially. He took it as his own failure.  Not only wasn’t there a resolution, but he
blamed himself for it. He kind of shut himself off from the world after that.”

Brenda brought
her hands together when she saw Sarah’s expression.  “I know it sounds awful, and it was. But lately, he’s been a lot
more like the person he used to be, like he’s coming out of his shell again,
and I can’t tell you how happy I’ve been to see that. He’s really a wonderful
man. He’s kind, he’s patient, he’ll go to the ends of the world for his
friends. And best of all, he loves his son.” She hesitated.

“But?” Sarah
finally asked.

Brenda
shrugged. “There are no buts, not with him. He’s a good guy and I’m not saying
that just because I like him. I’ve known him a long time. He’s one of those
rare men who, when he loves, he does it with all his heart.” Sarah nodded.
“That’s rare,” she said seriously.

“It’s true. And
try to remember all this if you and Miles ever get close.”

“Why?”

Brenda looked
away. “Because,” she said simply, “I’d hate to see him get hurt again.”

• • •

Later that day,
Sarah found herself thinking about Miles. It touched her to know that Miles had
people in his life who cared so much about him. Not family, butfriends.

She’d known that
Miles had wanted to ask her out after Jonah’s soccer game. The way he’d flirted
and kept moving closer made his intention plain.  But in the end, he hadn’t asked.

At the time, it
seemed funny. She’d giggled about it, driving away—but she wasn’t laughing at
Miles as much as she was laughing at how hard he’d made it seem. He’d tried,
God knows he’d tried, but for some reason he couldn’t say the words. And now,
after talking to Brenda, she thought she understood.  Miles hadn’t asked her out because he hadn’t knownhow. In his
entire adult life, he’d probably never had to ask a woman out—his wife had been
his high school sweetheart. Sarah didn’t think she’d ever known someone like
that in Baltimore, someone in his thirties who’d never once asked someone to dinner
or to a movie.  Oddly, she found it
endearing.

And maybe, she
admitted to herself, she found it a little comforting, because she wasn’t all
that different.

She’d started
going out with Michael when she was twenty-three; they’d divorced when she was
twenty-seven. Since then she’d been out only a few times, the last time with a
fellow who came on a little too strongly. After that, she told herself that she
just wasn’t ready. And maybe she wasn’t, but spending time with Miles Ryan
recently had reminded her that the past couple of years had been lonely ones.

In the
classroom, it was usually easy to avoid such thoughts. Standing in front of the
blackboard, she was able to focus completely on the students, those small faces
that stared at her with wonder. She’d come to view them asher kids, and she
wanted to make sure they had every opportunity for success in the world.  Today, though, she found herself
uncharacteristically distracted, and when the final bell rang she lingered
outside, until Jonah finally came up to her. He reached for her hand.

“Are you okay,
Miss Andrews?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she
said absently.

“You don’t look
so good.”

She smiled. “Have
you been talking to my mother?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Are
you ready to get started?”

“Do you have any
cookies?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get
going,” he said.

As they walked to
the classroom, Sarah noticed that Jonah wouldn’t let go of her hand. When she
squeezed it, he squeezed back, his small hand completely covered by hers.

It was almost
enough to make her life seem worthwhile.

Almost.

• • •

When Jonah and
Sarah walked out of the school after the tutoring session, Miles was leaning
against his car as usual, but this time he barely looked at Sarah as Jonah came
running up to give him a hug. After going through their usual routine—trading
stories about work and school, and so on—Jonah climbed into the car without
being asked. When Sarah approached him, Miles glanced away.  “Thinking about ways to keep the citizens
safe, Officer Ryan? You look like you’re trying to save the world,” she said
easily.

He shook his
head. “No, just a little preoccupied.”

“I can tell.”

Actually, his day
hadn’t been all that bad. Until having to face Sarah. In the car, he’d been
saying little prayers to himself that she’d forgotten about how ridiculous he’d
sounded the other day, after the game.

“How did Jonah
do today?” he asked, keeping those thoughts at bay.  “He had a great day. Tomorrow I’m going to give him a couple of
workbooks that really seem to be helping. I’ll mark the pages for you.”

“Okay,” he said
simply. When she smiled at him, he shifted from one foot to the other, thinking
how lovely she looked.

And what she must
think of him.

He forced his
hands into his pockets.

“I had a good
time at the game,” Sarah said.

“I’m glad.”

“Jonah asked if
I’d come watch him again. Would you mind?” “No, not at all,” Miles said. “I
don’t know what time he plays, though. The schedule is on the refrigerator at
home.”

She looked at him
carefully, wondering why he seemed so distant all of a sudden.

“If you’d rather
I not go, just say the word.”

“No, it’s fine,”
he said. “If Jonah asked you to go and watch, then by all means, you should. If
you want to, of course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll let
you know tomorrow what time the game is.” Then, before he could stop himself,
he added, “Besides, I’d like you to go, too.” He hadn’t expected to say it. No
doubt he’d wanted to say it. But here he was again, blathering away
uncontrollably. . . .

“You would?” she
asked.

Miles swallowed.
“Yeah,” he said, doing his best not to blow it now. “I would.”

Sarah smiled.
Somewhere inside, she felt a twitch of anticipation.

“Then I’ll be
there for sure. There’s one thing, though . . .”

Oh,no. . .

“What’s that?”

Sarah met his
eyes. “Do you remember when you asked me about the fan?” With the wordfan, all
the feelings he’d had over the weekend rushed back, almost as though he’d been
punched in the stomach.

“Yeah?” he said
cautiously.

“I’m also free on
Friday night, if you’re still interested.”

It took only a
moment for the words to register.

“I’m interested,”
he said, breaking into a grin.