A Turn in the Road (15 page)

“What?”
Bethanne nearly exploded with outrage—and then laughter. “You've got to be joking!”

“Okay, well, I hear you were gone until three.”

Bethanne neither confirmed nor denied the report. Let Grant think whatever he wanted. She didn't owe him an explanation
or
an excuse.

“Did you have a good time?”

“The best.” And she meant it. The night with Max was one she would long cherish. He made her feel more alive, more feminine, and he'd brought back the thrill of newly discovered passion. Yet he hadn't done anything other than kiss her and hold her. The desire was there; the need had felt urgent.

“You sound like you're falling for this guy.”

“Do I?” She turned the question around, wanting him to form his own opinion.

“Yes.” The amusement was gone from his voice. “We've already had one rather unpleasant discussion about this man. I'd hate to have a repeat of that.”

“So would I.” She had no intention of defending herself to Grant.

“Do you plan on seeing him again?”

She didn't answer.

“Bethanne?”

“I don't believe that's any of your business,” she said. “I don't mean to be rude, Grant, but my relationship with Max has nothing to do with you.”

His silence spoke volumes. “True, but you have to know I'm working as hard as I can to rebuild
our
relationship. It doesn't help that every time I turn around, I hear about you and this biker.”

“His name is Max.”

“I don't care what his name is.”

Bethanne sighed, unwilling to get into an argument with her
ex-husband over a man she'd dated once. Arguing put her on the defensive and she wasn't going to allow that.

She heard Grant exhale as though struggling with himself. “I imagine women are easily enthralled with that kind of guy.”

“You mean the way middle-age men fall for younger women?” That small dig apparently went right over Grant's head.

“True enough,” he agreed, and his voice was back to that cajoling tone she knew so well. “On a completely different subject, how's my mother holding up?”

Bethanne was grateful to talk about something other than Max. “She's doing great.”

“And you?”

“Annie and I are fine.”

“Good. Listen, I have some news I thought I'd pass along.”

“What is it?”

“I found out there's a real estate conference in Orlando the same week as Mom's class reunion.”

“Oh.” She already knew what Grant was going to say. “You've decided to go.”

“What could be more perfect?” Grant asked.

Indeed, Bethanne mused. What could be more perfect?

T
hey spent the night in Flagstaff, Arizona, and were up early Monday morning, waking to sunshine. By seven, Annie had dragged the suitcases out to the car, while Bethanne dealt with the hotel.

“I'll drive so you can knit,” Ruth volunteered.

Bethanne let her take the wheel, sitting beside her, while Annie climbed into the backseat. A little more than two hours later, they were in Albuquerque, New Mexico. They stopped for breakfast at a restaurant just off Interstate 40.

They were seated in a booth and reading over the menus when Annie said, “Dad told me he called while we were at the Grand Canyon.” The comment was directed at Bethanne.

“He did,” she confirmed without adding any details.

Annie set her menu aside. “Did he say anything about the Realtors' convention?”

In response, Bethanne looked at Ruth. “Grant will be in Orlando next weekend, the same time as your reunion.”

“How far is Vero Beach from Orlando?” Annie asked.

Bethanne referred the question to her mother-in-law, who was
far more familiar with Florida than she was. Ruth glanced over her menu. “About two hours, I think—but it's been a long time since I made the drive.”

“So Dad will be only two hours away,” Annie said, sounding downright gleeful.

“Do you think he'll come to Vero Beach?” Ruth asked hopefully.

“I'm sure he will.” Bethanne kept her feelings well under control. Actually, she'd be happy to see Grant. Maybe she could finally come to some conclusion, some decision; maybe she could finally say yes to a reconciliation. She'd been giving their situation a great deal of thought. Grant had been persistent, determined to regain her love and trust. The problem—and this had only recently become a problem—was the way Bethanne felt about Max. Every time she considered what her life would be like if she and Grant were to reunite, Max was there, competing with those visions, those possibilities.

Max of the rare smiles, grinning at her. Memories of riding on his Harley, her arms hugging his waist. Memories of dancing and kissing. With Grant it was expensive champagne, classical music, two children and a twenty-year history. With Max it was cold beer, loud country music and one night in Vegas. No, it was time to put him out of her mind. He was little more than a drifter running from life. Deep down she suspected that her fascination with him was prompted by her fear of facing the issues she needed to confront regarding her ex-husband. She'd forgiven Grant—hadn't she? Forgiveness, as she'd discovered, could be deceptive.

She didn't know if it was possible to trust him again. Grant was sorry. He'd admitted he'd been wrong and accepted full responsibility for the pain he'd inflicted on her and their children. Ruth had a point; that couldn't have been easy, especially for a proud man like Grant.

If only she could forgive wholeheartedly and forget the past…

And then there was Max. Gentle, loving Max, devoted to his
wife. He'd never cheated on Kate. He loved beyond the grave. Instinctively, she knew she could trust him.

“You ladies ready to order?” asked the waitress, who appeared to be somewhere between Ruth's age and Bethanne's. She stepped up to their table, pad and pen in hand.

“I'd like French toast,” Annie said, and gave the woman her menu.

“One poached egg on dry wheat,” Ruth said.

“Max.” Bethanne closed the menu and held it out to the waitress—and found three women staring at her. “What?” she asked, not understanding why her scrambled eggs had elicited all this attention.

“There's no Max on the menu,” the waitress said, grinning.

“I said
Max
?” Bethanne asked, startled to realize she deserved the looks Annie and Ruth were sending her.

The waitress continued to grin. “I guess one of you ladies is missing her man.”

“My mother is not missing that…biker,” Annie snapped.

Ruth refused to meet her eyes.

Bethanne's hand tightened on the menu. “Would you both feel better if I said Grant's name?” The answer was obvious. Then, glancing at the waitress, she said, “Grant is my ex-husband.”

“But he wants to get back together with my mom,” Annie explained.

“My son was an idiot, but he's regained his sanity just in time for my daughter-in-law to lose hers,” Ruth said in a disgruntled voice.

The waitress stood there, holding the pad and pen, her gaze wandering from one to the other. “Ladies, I'm no Dr. Laura. All I do around here is take orders and fill coffee cups. If you want advice, I suggest you turn on the radio.”

“I'll have a latte.” Bethanne decided to forgo the scrambled eggs, as her appetite was gone.

The waitress wrote down the order, hesitated a moment and
then slid into the booth next to Bethanne. “You really should have some protein for breakfast.”

“All I want is a latte.”

“You got man problems, don't you, sweetie?” she said, ignoring both Ruth and Annie. “I don't normally get involved with customers but I've been married a time or two myself, and it seems to me it takes a real man to admit when he's wrong.” She shook her head. “It doesn't happen often.”

“I keep trying to tell Mom that,” Annie insisted.

“Did this ex-husband of yours drink too much?” she asked.

“No,” Bethanne said.

“He didn't slap you around, did he?”

“No!”

“Chase skirts?”

“Just the once.” It was Annie who answered. “And that was a big mistake.”

“It always is,” the waitress said. “Half the time men's brains are located below their belt buckles. Eventually they come to their senses but by then it's usually too late.”

“Eunice.” The cook stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Are you fraternizing with the customers again?”

Eunice rolled her eyes. “If I don't watch myself I'm going to lose this job.” She hurried toward the kitchen and put their order on a hanging circular device for the cook to grab.

“What a sweetheart,” Ruth murmured.

“Wise, too,” Annie said pointedly.

“I can tell Eunice has been around the block a couple of times and found her way home,” Ruth said. “I'm leaving her an extra-big tip.”

Bethanne felt embarrassed about having her personal situation aired in front of a stranger, no matter how sympathetic, and furious at her daughter and mother-in-law. And yet… She'd begun to think they were right. Regardless of her infatuation with Max, she felt she had to give her ex-husband an honest chance. She had
to give their
relationship
an honest chance, and she couldn't do that with Max hovering in the background.

Five minutes later, Eunice returned with their breakfast order. Lost in her thoughts, Bethanne sipped her latte. Thankfully, neither Annie nor Ruth appeared to notice how distracted she was.

When she saw Max the night before last, she'd told him she'd call after the wedding. But it wouldn't be fair to keep him waiting and guessing. The only decent thing to do was call him now and explain that she wouldn't be contacting him in the future.

Bethanne slid out of her booth and headed for the door.

“Mom?” her daughter asked. “Where are you going?”

“I need to make a phone call” was all she was willing to tell either Annie or Ruth.

Standing in the parking lot, Bethanne took out her cell phone. Max had programmed in his number and she hit speed dial, knowing she was about to do something irrevocable. She felt regretful, but relieved, too. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the rental car and silently prayed he'd answer.

He picked up on the third ring, but at the sound of his voice, she suddenly couldn't speak.

“Hello,” he said again.

After a long moment, his voice softened. “Is that you, Bethanne?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to continue.

“I won't be calling you.” Then, because she owed him an explanation, she rushed to say, “I'm truly sorry, but I've made my decision.”

Her announcement was met with stark silence.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“I heard you.” Silence again.

“Don't you have anything to say?” she demanded.

“You're going back to Grant?”

“Yes…”

“Your final decision?”

“Yes…” It was her final decision—to give a new relationship with her ex-husband every opportunity to succeed. That didn't guarantee success, of course, but she could only go into this with an open heart. Without reservations. She couldn't have one eye on the exit as she and Grant tried out their new roles.

“You don't sound convinced.”

“I am completely convinced that this is the right thing to do.”

“Then why did you call me now?”

“I didn't want you waiting to hear from me.”

“Did you assume I was waiting?”

“You were, weren't you?” That was the way she remembered their discussion when they'd parted in Vegas.

“What happened? You only left Vegas two days ago.”

“Grant phoned and he's coming to Florida and…and I can't stop thinking about you and it's causing all kinds of problems.” She hadn't intended to admit all that, but it slipped out. “To top everything, we went for breakfast and instead of ordering scrambled eggs, I ordered you.” She could sense his smile. “This isn't funny, Max.”

“I've been thinking a lot about you, too. Kate would've liked you.”

“I can't do this, Max. I mean it.”

“I know.”

“You don't believe me, do you?”

“No.”

He didn't even bother to pretend otherwise, which frustrated her. “You won't be hearing from me again,” she said, trying to sound firm.

“Okay. If that's what you want.”

She felt like stamping her foot. “Why don't you believe me?”

“Are you really going back to your ex-husband?”

She didn't respond for a moment. Then she said in a low voice, “I don't know yet.”

“That's what I thought.”

“He loves me,” she insisted.

“And you love him,” Max said. “I understand that. But do you love him enough?”

“We have children together, a twenty-year history as husband and wife. I already told you all this.”

“That doesn't answer the question.”

“I don't know how I feel. I can't deal with this,” she whispered, and her voice cracked.

“Bethanne, listen,” Max said, speaking softly now. “This doesn't have to be decided this very minute. I thought we were going to connect after your son's wedding. It's in July, right?”

“July 16.”

“You have lots of time. We both do.”

Despite what he'd said about understanding, he really didn't. No one did. “I want this over
now
. I can't be seriously considering getting back with Grant and dreaming about you. Why you? Oh, Max, why does it have to be
you?
Of all the men I've dated in the past six years, none of them made me feel the way you do.”

“Me, too,” he whispered, his voice husky. “No one. Not ever. I loved Kate, adored her, but that was…different.”

Neither spoke for what seemed like a long time. Then Bethanne saw Annie and Ruth walking out of the restaurant. “I need to get off the phone.”

“Where are you?”

“Albuquerque.” Fearing he might try to find her, she added, “Don't come. Please don't try to follow me.”

“I won't.”

“Goodbye, Max.”

“Goodbye.”

Annie was staring intently at her and so was Ruth. Rather than say anything more, Bethanne snapped her cell shut and dropped it in her purse.

“Who was that?” Ruth asked.

Bethanne felt incredibly guilty and guessed she must look it, too. But she didn't respond. She had a right to her private conversations,
dammit! Ironically, she'd been trying to do something that should please them.

“You were talking to Max, weren't you?” Annie said.

Not waiting for a reply, both women turned toward the parking lot. Bethanne went back inside the restaurant, to the ladies' room. Her nerves were a mess.

Instead of feeling better after talking to Max, she felt worse. She hadn't settled a thing. Quite the contrary; she'd muddled her thoughts and emotions even more.

Washing her hands in the empty room, Bethanne looked at herself in the mirror and announced, “I am my own woman. I will not let the dictates of my family influence my decisions.” Then she dried her hands carefully with a paper towel and left the bathroom.

When she got to the car, Annie was in the driver's seat with Ruth in the back. Bethanne climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door. She automatically reached for her knitting.

Without a word, Annie backed out of the parking space.

“I have to tell you that I'm worried about you,” Ruth said, leaning forward. She apparently felt obliged to impart her misgivings.

“I appreciate your concern, Ruth, but you don't need to worry. I know what I'm doing.”

“What about Dad?” Annie cried.

“What about him?” Bethanne asked. She continued to work the white cashmere wool, knitting faster than she'd thought possible. Thankfully, the pattern wasn't so complicated that she had to study every row.

“He loves you! Doesn't that matter?”

“Of course it does,” Ruth answered for her. “I think we should leave your mother alone. She's right. This is her decision.”

“I'm not sure I can keep quiet,” Annie said, completely ignoring the fact that Bethanne was sitting beside her and could hear every word.

“Your mother wants to return to Grant on an even playing field,” Ruth said stiffly.

“What does
that
mean?” Bethanne asked, twisting around in her seat.