A Turn in the Road (18 page)

B
ethanne and Max sat on the hotel porch on an old-fashioned bench swing. They'd gone to dinner with Rooster. As soon as they'd finished the meal, Rooster excused himself and went inside the hotel, insisting he was on his way to bed.

“You must be exhausted,” Bethanne said as they gently swayed. Max sat with his arm around her shoulders and her fingers tangled with his.

“I'm not so tired I can't appreciate time with you.”

“Go to bed, too,” she suggested. “We have all day tomorrow.”

“Not yet,” he said through a yawn.

Bethanne was just as glad. She rested her head against his shoulder. “Even though we've talked about a lot of things, I know almost nothing about you.”

“I don't like to talk about myself,” he said.

“So I've noticed.”

“What would you like to ask?”

Of all the questions that buzzed around in her head, she asked one of the least important. “How long have you and Rooster been friends?”

Max blinked, and Bethanne saw that he was struggling to stay alert. “For most of my life. He's my brother's age and we were neighbors growing up. You know we also have a business connection—he handles our advertising.”

Bethanne nodded. “Is he married?”

“No. Well, he was at one time but it didn't last long. He's currently between…well, I hesitate to say
girlfriends. Companions
might be the better word.”

“He only joins you on the road part of the time, right?”

“Right. A month every summer, and sometimes a few weeks in the spring and fall.”

“Any family?”

“Who, Rooster or me?”

“You.”

“A brother. Luke's ten years older. He's taken over the business since I've been away. His kids are raised and he travels to Australia and New Zealand every chance he gets. We connect three or four times a year when I'm in California.”

“Are your parents alive?”

“They died a year apart back in the late nineties.”

She already knew his only daughter had died at a young age.

“Have you ever been to Seattle?” she asked.

“Once. Rooster and I took a ride around the Kitsap Peninsula and into the rain forest a couple of summers ago. It's beautiful country.”

“I love it there.”

“You're still in the same house where you and Grant used to live?” he asked.

Bethanne found it a curious question. “Yes. It's the only home our children had ever known. There was enough upheaval in their lives without me pulling
that
rug out from under them, too.”

“Have you ever considered moving?”

“No.” That was the truth. She loved her home and had no intention of leaving.

“Anything else you want to know about me?” Max asked.

“Do you have a home?”

She felt his smile against her hair. “I don't need one. Wherever I am, that's home. However, I own a house in California.”

“Do you visit often?”

“No.”

“Friends other than Rooster?”

“A few here and there.”

“How do you live?”

“You mean money? My needs are simple. I don't require much, don't want much.”

Bethanne had guessed they had little in common, but that didn't dissuade her. The attraction she felt for him was as strong as ever. Stronger. He'd ridden twenty hours to see her. Even now, he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open and yet he wanted to stay up so he could be with her. She couldn't imagine Grant being content to sit on a porch swing like this.

Oh, that wasn't fair. She couldn't compare them. They were as different as any two men—any two people—she'd ever met. Grant would always be ambitious, driven to succeed. She knew that when she'd married him.

Max didn't seem to care about financial or career success, not anymore. And she could tell it had never been the be-all and end-all for him.

She instinctively recognized that he was a man who loved completely. Grant—well, he'd claimed to, but he'd deviated from his love, his vows, without caring how that affected her or their children.

After several minutes of silence, he said, “I know from what you told me that you had to find your way back to God after Grant left you.”

“Yes.” It'd been a small epiphany for her.

“You helped me see that I needed to do the same thing—make peace with Him.”

“Oh?”

“We've been at odds ever since I lost Katherine. My daughter
lived longer than any of her doctors expected. It was bad enough losing her, but then Kate…” He hesitated. “Losing my wife was too much, and frankly I've ignored anything spiritual ever since. Then, at a time when I least expected it, you plowed your way into my life.”

“Plowed?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Plowed?”

He laughed. “Okay, you appeared in my life. And for the first time since I buried Kate, I could
feel.
I could breathe without pain. I could face the future. I have to say it felt damn good and then…you were gone.”

She tightened her hand around his, unsure what to say.

“I had a choice,” Max went on. “I could get angry all over again or I could be thankful that you came when you did.”

“And?”

“I chose to be thankful. Don't get me wrong, God and I aren't back on speaking terms but I'm getting there.”

“Oh, Max.” Not caring who saw them, she turned her head so their lips could meet. Early in their relationship, Grant had always been the romantic one. He'd written her poems and sent her flowers on the flimsiest of excuses. And yet no one, not even Grant, had said anything more beautiful to her than this.

“Whatever happens, whatever you decide—” he continued, after breaking off the kiss. He paused, then kissed her again. “—I'll accept it with gratitude.”

Bethanne felt as if she might weep.

Max kissed the top of her head. “This probably isn't a good time for us to talk about serious matters.”

“Why not?”

“I'm too tired to filter what I say.”

“Tell me, anyway.”

“I didn't think I could ever love again after I lost Kate. You've shown me it's possible.”

She sighed, savoring his words, and snuggled closer. “I know what you mean. I thought it would be impossible to feel this way
after Grant left me. I was sure I'd never be able to trust another man, let alone give him my heart.”

“Could you give me your heart, Bethanne?” he asked.

“Yes, and it scares me to death.”

He smiled. “It does me, too.” He kissed the side of her neck and his lips against her skin felt like a mild electric shock.

“I…think it might be best if we both went to our rooms. You're tired, and I need time to sort all this out in my head.”

Walking hand in hand, they approached the elevator. Once inside—fortunately they were alone—Max punched their floor numbers. As soon as the door closed, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss was hot and urgent, and when he released her they were both breathless. His gaze held hers and she smiled at him.

He hugged her again and Bethanne stepped into the hallway that led to her room. Her mother-in-law and daughter were still out, to Bethanne's rather guilty relief.

She undressed and climbed into bed and sat there, mulling over the conversation with Max.

After Grant moved out, Bethanne had dated Tiffany's ex-husband. Paul was much younger. They'd bonded over the trauma of having loved an unfaithful spouse. Paul had since remarried and recently had a baby son. She was happy for him.

After Paul, Bethanne had dated off and on. Nothing had come of those relationships. And now she'd met Max… It seemed as though she'd been waiting for him all these years. Why now? Falling in love couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time.

 

Bethanne was still sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the wall, at about ten, when the door opened and the other two came in. Both were surprised to find her in the room.

“I thought you were with Max,” Annie said.

“I was. We had dinner and then he went up to his room.” She didn't mention that he'd spent twenty hours on his bike, riding through four states in order to meet her.

“Did you have a disagreement?” Ruth asked, sounding hopeful.

“No. He was tired and so was I.” Preferring not to discuss Max, she asked, “How was the show?”

“Incredible,” Ruth said on the end of a dreamy sigh. “I could fall in love with Andy Williams all over again. Oh, my, that boy can sing.”

“He's hardly a boy, Grandma.”

“Was it as dreadful as you feared?” Bethanne asked her daughter.

Annie set her purse on the dresser. “You know, it wasn't bad.”

“Told you.” Ruth couldn't keep from chortling.

“He isn't someone I'd purposely see again,” Annie added, “but I have to admit he does have a decent singing voice. Even at his age.”

“What about the songs?”

“They were all right.” Annie shrugged as if to say she could take them or leave them.

“All right?” Ruth muttered. “‘Moon River' is
all right?
It's brilliant!” After a moment she started to undress for bed.

Annie sat beside Bethanne, then tucked her feet up and rested her chin on her bent knees. “Dad and I had a long talk.”

“Oh.” No doubt she and Max were the main topic of that conversation.

“I told Dad how strange you've been acting.” She grinned as she said it.

“I'm sure he had a lot to say.” Bethanne let the acting-strange comment go unchallenged.

“I told Grant he should be more concerned than he is, but I'm afraid my son gave up listening to my advice a long time ago,” Ruth said as she smoothed hand lotion over her upper arms and vigorously rubbed it in.

“Dad said we should leave you and Max alone,” Annie astonished her by saying.

“He did?” That hardly sounded like the Grant she remembered.

“Yes. I know he's right.” She looked steadily at Bethanne. “He also said he might've already lost you, and if so, it's what he deserved.”

Grant
said that?

“Dad told me you'd have to make up your own mind.”

“Personally, I think my son has lost his,” Ruth murmured as she capped the lotion. “The least he could do is show a little gumption and fight for you.”

Unable to resist, Bethanne smiled. Ruth made it sound like the two men should choose their weapons and face off at dawn.

“This is Grant's business and yours,” Ruth went on. “So I'll butt out. Besides, I have news.”

Annie bounced on the bed. “You called Royce!”

As though embarrassed, Ruth lowered her head and nodded.

“When?”

“Earlier, when you were shopping.”

“What did he say?” Again it was Annie who asked, leaning forward in her enthusiasm to hear. “I'll bet he was glad you called.”

“I think so…I think he even recognized my voice. I certainly recognized his. It hasn't changed a bit. He sounded the same as he did at eighteen.”

“How did the conversation go?” Bethanne didn't want to appear too eager, but judging by the look on Ruth's face, she already had her answer.

“We agreed to meet before the reunion to talk.”

“Oh, Ruth, that's wonderful.” Bethanne was pleased for her and grateful that the conversation had gone well. She'd wondered if Ruth would find the courage to contact Royce—and hoped she would.

“I talked to Jane, too.”

“Is everyone excited about the reunion?” Annie sank back against the pillow and yawned.

“Yes, and everything seems to be coming together nicely,” Ruth said, her eyes bright. “Jane told me they have the high school gym for the dinner and dance, just the way we did for the senior prom. She heard from Jim Maxwell and Alice Coan. They've been married for fifty years now, so it's a double celebration for them.”

“Do you remember your senior prom?” Annie said, studying her grandmother.

Ruth laughed. “I doubt I'll ever forget it.”

“Were you with Royce?”

“Oh, yes,” she said dreamily.

“It must've been so romantic.”

“Hardly.” Ruth shook her head. “Actually, it was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“Grandma, how can you say that? What happened?”

Ruth pulled down the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “It's quite a story.”

“Tell us,” Bethanne urged.

“Well…I might have mentioned that Royce's parents didn't have a lot of money. The Jamesons sold everything they owned for the opportunity to purchase an orange grove. Unfortunately, for the first couple of years the crops didn't meet their expectations. Royce worked with his brothers and parents, but there never seemed to be enough money.”

“Did purchasing the grove pay off over time?” Bethanne asked. She hated the thought of that kind of effort going unrewarded.

“I believe so, but not while Royce was living at home.”

“What happened at the prom?” Annie asked again.

“Oh, yes, our senior prom.” Ruth smiled as she said it. “Royce asked me, and naturally I said yes.”

“Naturally,” Annie echoed.

“He couldn't afford to buy me a corsage for the dance, so his mother did her best to make me one from orange blossoms, but it just wouldn't stay together. Not wanting to offend her, Royce took the corsage she'd made but when it fell apart he bought me a plastic rose.”

“He bought you a
plastic
rose for the prom?” Annie sounded incredulous.

“Annie,” Bethanne said, “that was all he could afford.”

“Did he wear a tux?” her daughter asked, despite Bethanne's caution.

“A tux?” Ruth repeated. “My heavens, no. He had on his Sunday best, but it wouldn't have mattered to me if he'd been in his coveralls. He was still the handsomest boy in his class.”