A Turn in the Road

by Debbie Macomber

  “You don’t understand,” Ruth managed between sobs.

  “We will if you explain it to us,” Annie said in a gentle voice.

  Ruth shook her head again. “I don’t know if I can face Royce after what I did to him.” Ruth’s hands trembled and she took a gasping breath. “I hurt him deeply.”

  “Ruth, you were young. I’m sure he’s gotten over it.”

  Ruth refused to make eye contact. “He might have, but I’m not sure I ever can.”

  Annie handed Ruth a tissue, which she clenched as if it were a lifeline.

  “We promised to love each other and be true...” she choked out. “That’s what we called it back then—being true.” She closed her eyes.

  “And...you weren’t?” Bethanne probed.

  Ruth looked down at her purse, winding the strap around her hand. “I went to a party with friends soon after I got to college. I’d never drunk anything stronger than beer. Someone brought vodka and mixed it with orange juice and gave me a glass. I remember how good it tasted and I had more of them...and the next thing I knew, I was necking with this boy and I didn’t even know his name.” She tried to stem the tears, swiping at them with the crumpled tissue. “I told him I needed to get back to my dorm and he offered to walk me there. He seemed friendly and nice, and when we arrived, I let him kiss me again.”

  “Ruth, you were on your own for the first time,” Bethanne said. She found it painful that after all the years, her mother-in-law still couldn’t forgive herself for a youthful indiscretion.

  “Grandma, so what if you let a boy kiss you?” Annie said. She rubbed her grandmother’s shoulder with soothing strokes.

  Ruth continued in a ragged voice. “I told him I already had a boyfriend and...and he said that was fine.”

  “Did you see him again?” Annie asked.

  “I couldn’t help it. We were in the same history class. We talked after the lecture a couple of times and went for a Coke. He was always nice to me. I wouldn’t let him kiss me again and he respected that. I wrote Royce every single day but I never told him about Richard.”

  “Richard?” Bethanne repeated, stunned. That was Grant’s father.

  “Yes. Then one night we attended another party. He and I went together. I thought I’d be all right because I was with Richard, but someone gave me a spiked drink and we...we—” She paused and once more hid her face in her hands. “We made love in the back seat of his car and a few weeks later I realized I was pregnant.”

  “Oh, Ruth.” Bethanne looked away from the road long enough to reassure her mother-in-law that she was the last person who’d think badly of her. How strange that they should be having this conversation, which was probably the most serious and honest of their entire relationship, while driving down the freeway.

  “Richard took the news like a gentleman... He said he loved me and would marry me. But we hardly knew each other and I hadn’t even told Royce I’d met anyone else...and then I had to tell him I was marrying another man and that I was pregnant—and all of this happened while he was still in basic training!”

  “Ruth, my poor Ruth...”

  “Oh, Grandma, how awful for you.”

  “I broke his heart,” Ruth said with finality. She gazed at Bethanne, her tears drying as she resumed her story. “He said if I could be unfaithful so soon after leaving home, I wasn’t the person he thought I was. He said he was happy to be rid of me.”

  Again Bethanne looked away from the road. “I’m sure he didn’t mean that. He was speaking from his pain.”

  Ruth went on as if she hadn’t heard. “Richard was a good husband. We were both determined to make the best of the marriage, and we did, but through the years...” She hesitated. “I often wondered what might’ve happened if I’d stayed home that night instead of going to the party. I wonder if Royce and I would eventually have married.”

  “It’s only natural to wonder,” Bethanne said.

  “You were pregnant with Dad when you married Grandpa?” Annie said. “Wow. I never added up the dates before.”

  “Annie.”

  “Grandma.” Annie ignored Bethanne. “I meant what I said—I bet Royce is just as anxious to see you again. You’re probably the reason he’s attending this reunion.”

  “I hope so, but I can’t be sure.”

  “You should call him and at least let him know you’ll be there.”

  “I can’t,” she said adamantly.

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides,” she said as though this was a more convincing excuse, “I don’t have his number.”

  “That’s easy.” Annie pulled out her cell phone. “Tell me his full name and I’ll get it for you.”

  Frowning, Ruth turned to Bethanne, her face creased with doubt and indecision. “Do you think contacting Royce before I arrive is a good idea?”

  “I don’t think it would hurt,” Bethanne said. “If you chatted briefly, then your mind would be at rest. You’d know what to expect.”

  Ruth’s shoulders sagged. “Maybe later. Okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay,” Bethanne assured her.

  “You do what you feel is best,” Annie echoed. “But I’ll look up his number for you, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Ruth said. “I’d like to have it...in case I do decide to call. In case I can figure out what to say,” she added under her breath.

  * * *

  It was afternoon when they entered the national park. The sights were as spectacular as Max had promised. They walked across the Grand Canyon Skywalk and marveled at the twisting, curving Colorado River far below.

  Later, Ruth was in the gift shop and Annie was speaking to one of the park rangers, a young woman who didn’t look much older than her daughter, when Bethanne’s cell phone rang.

  Digging in her purse, she located it just before it went to voice mail.

  “Hello.”

  “Bethanne, where are you?”

  She groaned inwardly. “Hello, Grant.” She almost wished she hadn’t answered—or that she’d taken the time to check call display. “We’re at the Grand Canyon.”

  “Sounds like you got a late start.”

  “We did, but we drove straight here. Your mother’s eager to get to Florida.”

  The words were barely past her lips when Grant asked, “What’s this about you taking off with that biker?”

  Apparently, Annie had told Grant, which Bethanne didn’t appreciate. “Is that what Annie said?”

  “Well, some variation of it. I’m sure she’s exaggerating.”

  “I’m sure,” Bethanne echoed, unwilling to discuss Max with her ex-husband.

  “So what happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You took off with this biker and according to our daughter you spent the night with him.”

  “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?

  Fifteen

  They 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 back seat. 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.”