A Turn in the Road (22 page)

“What if…what if Grant and I don't get back together?”

“Then let me know.”

“You'll come to Seattle?”

“I'll come wherever you are. Anyplace. Anytime. All you have to do is contact me.”

It sounded risky to Bethanne, scary, especially when she wasn't sure of her own mind. She wanted Max to convince her they were meant to be together. He hadn't. She wanted him to fight for her. He wouldn't. The decision was hers.

“I don't like this,” she confessed.

“Bethanne, we're both high on emotion.” His hand cupped her cheek as if he felt the need to touch her, to hold on to her as long as he could.

They finished their wine, then returned to the front porch and sat in the swing, Max's arm possessively around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She wanted to keep these feelings with her forever.

Part of her wanted to argue with him, say she'd already made up her mind. Only she hadn't. Not really. Twenty years with Grant couldn't be easily shoved aside or forgotten. Max was right; they
were
high on emotion, on discovery. What they shared was fresh and new. Their feelings for each other had yet to be tested. All she had were these few days with Max. Seven days that had indelibly
marked her. But could it be more than just a memory, significant though that memory was?
Should
it?

Max escorted her to her room and kissed her good-night. Bethanne felt an urge to weep—but this time for reasons she understood far too well.

T
he next morning Annie was up at five-thirty, eager to hit the road. She turned on the bedside lamp and studied the road map. The day before had been a dead bore. Although she'd spent most of her time wandering from store to store and had even bought a few things, she'd grown tired of that.

The most interesting part of the day had been breakfast with her grandmother and Rooster. He seemed intent on letting them both know what a great guy Max was. She'd had some serious doubts about this biker. To all outward appearances, he was little more than a drifter. Her mother had hinted at the fact that Max owned a wine distribution business but she hadn't said much. Annie was convinced it was because her mother didn't
know
much.

But Rooster was obviously determined to fill in the blanks. He spent a good hour telling them about Max and his brother, Luke. He explained that Max had lost both his wife and his daughter and had gone off the deep end for a while.

Rooster turned every topic of conversation, every remark, into an opportunity to talk about Max.

When Grandma mentioned going to New Orleans, he'd said, “Max spent six months there.”

“Doing what?” Annie had asked skeptically.

“Building homes with Habitat for Humanity. He also joined a group that reconnected pets with their owners.”

“Oh.” Annie had assumed he'd been drinking and gambling. The fact that he was helping victims of Hurricane Katrina quickly trampled her sense of indignation.

“So the two of you are heading home to California,” Ruth said.

“We leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Going back to do what?” Annie had asked.

“Max is stepping into the role he left three years ago,” Rooster said. “He'll be working in the family business.”

Annie made it clear that she wasn't impressed. She refused to even hint to Rooster that her views of Max were starting to change, much as she didn't want them to.

“I know you don't trust him,” Rooster said.

“Plenty of reasons not to,” Annie had muttered. “He's ruining everything between my mom and dad.”

“Is he?” Rooster asked gently.

Annie nodded stubbornly, but her grandmother was evidently staying out of it.

“Kids want to see their parents together,” Rooster said, reaching for his coffee mug and holding it out for the waitress to refill. “That's natural. But sometimes it isn't for the best.”

“It is with my parents,” Annie insisted. She looked across the table and met her grandmother's eyes, assuming Ruth would immediately agree. It came as a surprise when she didn't.

Hearing how Max had volunteered in New Orleans wasn't something Annie wanted to hear. She preferred to think of him as a drifter who'd taken advantage of her mother. Although she struggled to hold on to that image, she found it increasingly difficult, especially when she saw how happy he made her mother.
Now that she knew that he had a good heart, it was even harder to dislike him.

But she wasn't ready to admit
that
yet, she told herself as she refolded the map. Both her grandmother and mother were still asleep.

Another minor complication had come her way in the past couple of days.

She'd emailed Vance back to let him know what a great time she was having and casually asked about his adventures in Europe. He replied right away. Matt and Jessie argued constantly. Everything cost more than they'd expected. At the rate they were going, they'd be out of money in a few weeks when they'd hoped it would last them a year. He hated hostels and had trouble making himself understood.

In Annie's opinion, if Vance was visiting a foreign country, he should make the effort to learn at least basic phrases in that language. She told him so, a comment he'd chosen to ignore. She hadn't heard from him since, and that was fine, although she did want Vance to know she was having the experience of her life…well, other than their last day in Branson. Unfortunately, she hadn't met anyone in Missouri the way she had in Vegas.

Jason had emailed her several times, as well. In fact, Annie hoped they'd keep in touch….

 

Bethanne didn't sleep well after Max dropped her off. There was so much more she'd wanted to say, so much more she wanted to know. He'd be traveling for several days, which would make communication difficult. She'd be on the road, too, heading in the opposite direction. Once she arrived in Vero Beach, Grant would meet her. She didn't want to think about her ex-husband, not when she was preoccupied by another man. Above all, Bethanne longed to be fair to both men. She wouldn't mislead Grant into believing a reconciliation was possible if she decided it wasn't. At the same time, she couldn't help wondering if what she felt for Max would diminish in the days ahead.

“We're ten hours from New Orleans,” Annie said as Bethanne stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. She said this as if it were little more than a Sunday drive in the country. “It's just six hundred miles.”

“Six hundred miles.” Ruth groaned as she completed her morning stretches. “You don't expect to make that in a single day, do you?”

“We can.” Annie sounded completely confident as she tucked the map in her bag. “Especially if we get an early start.” Hopping off the bed, she clapped her hands. “Come on, Mom. And, Grandma, just think—every day brings you closer to Vero Beach—and Royce.”

Hearing that was all the incentive Ruth needed. Although Bethanne hadn't pried, she knew this trip had more to do with seeing Royce than with the actual reunion.

“And what about all the knitting you'll accomplish in ten hours, Mom?”

Because she'd spent so much time with Max, Bethanne had neglected her project. Annie had a point; she could use the long hours on the road to knit…and think. She'd only completed the first glove so far. Her goal had been to finish the pair before they returned to Seattle.

They dressed and finished packing their suitcases. While Ruth directed the bellman with their luggage, Annie arranged to have the car brought to the front of the hotel. Bethanne checked out. After she'd put their expenses on her credit card, she handed the woman behind the counter a short note for Max, thanking him for a wonderful day. In a postscript, she'd added that she was going to miss him.

“Would you please give this to Max Scranton when he checks out?” she said.

The woman looked up. “Mr. Scranton's already left.”

Already? Max was gone? Silly as it sounded, Bethanne wasn't prepared to hear that.

 

Bethanne drove, with Ruth in the passenger seat. “I don't mind telling you I enjoyed Branson,” her mother-in-law said. “It was everything I'd dreamed it would be.”

“You enjoyed attending the shows?”

“Yes, and Rooster wasn't half bad.” She glanced at Bethanne. “I might have misjudged him. He's actually quite a nice man. A bit young for me, but a gentleman at heart.”

“I'm glad you had a good time.”

“Rooster.” She shook her head. “I don't understand why he insists on using such a ridiculous name, but that's his business. He said—”

“Onward to New Orleans,” Annie broke in. “I can hardly wait.”

“Me, too.” Ruth grinned. “My mouth's watering for that Cajun food Emeril's always talking about. Give me some shrimp étouffée and filé gumbo.”

“Grandma, I thought you didn't like spicy food.”

“Normally I don't, but I'm not about to pass this up. Besides, why did they invent antacid tablets if it wasn't for times like this?”

“I've heard so much about Bourbon Street…” Annie said dreamily.

“And apparently the French Quarter is quite a shopping experience,” Bethanne added.

They stopped in Little Rock, Arkansas, for a late breakfast. Annie took over the driving after that, while Bethanne sat in the back and worked on her knitting. She was distracted by thoughts of Max and ended up ripping out several rows.

“We should call Dad,” Annie said just outside Jackson, Mississippi, early that afternoon.

“We should,” Ruth agreed.

Grant hadn't called in a couple of days, which was unusual. He seemed to be following his own advice and giving her the space she needed. But Bethanne suspected he was nervously waiting for her to get in touch with him.

“I'll call him,” Ruth volunteered, and reached for Annie's cell phone, which rested on the console between them. She'd come to use it quite a bit this trip. Bethanne wouldn't be surprised if she bought one of her own.

Mother and son spoke about the trip for a few minutes before she turned around to hand the phone to Bethanne.

“Hello, Grant,” Bethanne said.

“Hi,” he said back. “How was Branson?” He sounded tentative, unlike his usual confident self.

“Wonderful.” If he was waiting for her to fill him in about her time with Max, then he'd be disappointed.

“When do you plan to get to Vero Beach?” Grant asked.

“No later than Monday, although it depends on how many stops we make along the way,” Bethanne told him.

“I've always wanted to visit New Orleans,” Grant said. “It would mean more if I could see it with you.” He paused. “Do you think that might be possible someday?”

“I don't know…” And she didn't. Rather than dwell on that, she asked, “When do you fly into Orlando?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Great.”

“Do you mean that, Bethanne?” he asked in a husky whisper. “Do you honestly mean that?”

“I do,” she said. Being away from the demands of her business and the wedding plans would give her a chance to assess their relationship and decide if it was possible to step back in time. She wondered if she'd changed too much—and if Grant had changed enough.

“Tell Dad hello for me,” Annie said.

“I will,” Bethanne promised, and she did. She was grateful for the closeness father and daughter shared. She hoped that one day Andrew and Grant would find a common bond, too, and that her son would be able to forgive his father.

They spoke for a few more minutes and then Bethanne passed the phone back to Ruth.

They arrived in New Orleans around five-thirty that afternoon. For the past three or four hours, Ruth and Annie had traded off driving. By the time they got to their hotel on Canal Street, Bethanne was more than willing to call it a day. She was tired and uncharacteristically cranky.

After they'd checked in and had their suitcases brought up to the room, Annie and Ruth convinced her to explore the French Quarter with them, despite her protests.

“You'll feel better once we have something to eat,” Ruth said.

They had no difficulty finding a fabulous restaurant. New Orleans was legendary for its food, and anyone they asked was willing to make recommendations. Bethanne loved the bistro's shaded courtyard and enjoyed every bite of her pecan-coated catfish and every sip of her Sazerac, a classic New Orleans cocktail. And the bread pudding with bourbon sauce… As Annie said, it was to die for.

Afterward, although she was tired and eager to get back to the room, Bethanne wandered into an antiques store in the Quarter and studied the cameos. She owned a couple of them, which she treasured, but didn't intend to collect more.

“May I help you?” a pleasant clerk inquired.

“Just looking, thanks,” Bethanne said as she continued down the aisle. Both Annie and Ruth had followed her inside. They each found a different area to explore. The wooden floors creaked with age as Bethanne examined the contents of a display case.

“We recently got in something quite unusual, if you're interested in a memento that's out of the ordinary,” the clerk said. She moved behind a glass counter and brought out a small box.

Inside was a plain fabric button. Bethanne couldn't see anything special about this particular button, other than its obvious age.

“This was sewn in the collar of a Confederate uniform,” the woman said as she reverently took the button from its protective box and held it in the palm of her hand. “I have a photograph of it here.” The clerk laid a picture of a tattered gray uniform beside the now-empty box. “When young men left for the War Between
the States, their sweethearts would often soak a button in perfume. Once it was dry they'd sew it into their loved one's uniform collar, reminding the soldier of all he'd left behind. That way, whenever he was lonely for his home and his sweetheart, all he had to do was breathe deeply.”

“That's so romantic,” Annie said, coming to stand next to her mother.

“How much is it?” Bethanne asked.

The clerk named a price that shocked her. “For a button? Thank you, but no. That's way out of my price range.”

“Mom, you should get it,” Annie urged.

Bethanne shook her head. “What would I do with it?”

“Keep it as a souvenir of our trip,” Annie said. “It's different and historical and so romantic.”

Bethanne considered it for a moment. “I think I'd rather buy something else.”

“Something more reasonably priced, you mean,” Ruth commented, having joined them, as well.

The three shopped a bit longer. Annie bought a number of small items for her girlfriends and Ruth purchased pralines to bring to her own friends at home. In the end, Bethanne didn't get anything; she wasn't in much of a buying mood. She missed Max.

As soon as they returned to their hotel room, Ruth changed into her pajamas and was asleep almost immediately.

Annie was busy on her iPhone, answering emails. Taking the opportunity to soak in the tub, Bethanne sought a quiet thirty minutes to herself. A bubble bath was a luxury she hadn't enjoyed in a while. As she lay in the hot bubbly water, she closed her eyes.

She was completely relaxed when Annie stepped into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub.

“Do you need anything, sweetie?” Bethanne asked.