A Turn in the Road
“What does that mean?” Bethanne asked, twisting around in her seat.
Ruth wouldn’t look at her. “It means,” she said, glancing at Annie, “that Bethanne wants to have an affair with this biker before she takes your father back. It’s tit for tat.”
“Ruth!” Bethanne could hardly believe she’d said that. “How can you even suggest such a thing?” After all these years she’d assumed her mother-in-law knew her better. “If it’ll help either of you, I’ll let you know that Max and I have done nothing more than kiss.” She instantly regretted telling them even that much.
“Mom,” Annie said in the same voice she’d used as a little girl when she wanted something important. “I promise I won’t bring up Max’s name again if you’ll do just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Give Dad a chance. It isn’t fair when Dad’s in Seattle.”
What do you think I’m doing? she wanted to shout. This is all about giving him a chance.
“It isn’t like Max is trailing behind our car on his motorcycle,” she said tartly.
“Just don’t do anything foolish, okay?”
“I’m not a foolish woman,” she told her daughter.
“I didn’t used to think so,” Ruth muttered under her breath but loudly enough for Bethanne to hear.
“I am not a foolish woman,” Bethanne repeated, and then suddenly realized her purse wasn’t within sight. “Did either of you pick up my purse?”
“I didn’t,” Annie said.
“Why would I take your purse?” Ruth asked.
Oh, my goodness. Bethanne remembered that she’d left her purse in the restroom at the Albuquerque diner. “Annie,” she said, trying not to panic. “I left my purse at the restaurant.” She’d been upset and walked off without it.
“Mom, we’re on a freeway! I can’t just turn around. I have to wait for the next exit.”
Ruth leaned forward. “Now, what were you saying about not being a foolish woman?”
Sixteen
“I’ve always wanted to see the Alamo,” Annie said once they were back on the road after collecting Bethanne’s purse. Her forgetfulness had cost them over an hour.
“I have a reservation in Branson for tomorrow night,” Ruth said. “Remember what happened the last time we went off course?”
“More fun for some than others,” Ruth said sharply.
Bethanne was getting used to the verbal darts and disregarded the comment.
“Personally, I’m looking forward to Branson,” Ruth continued. “My friends tell me Andy Williams gives a terrific performance.”
Annie glanced over at Bethanne. “Just who is this Andy Williams?”
“My goodness, Annie, he’s one of the best singers ever,” Ruth said enthusiastically. “Well, in my opinion, anyway. He’s like Perry Como, Frank Sinatra and Steve Lawrence all rolled into one.”
“I’ve never heard of Perry or Steve, either, Grandma. Were they part of a group?”
“Heavens, no! Bethanne, this girl needs a musical education.”
Bethanne laughed, glad that good humor had been restored.
“Does this mean we’re going to bypass the Alamo?” Annie asked, sounding disappointed.
“It does,” Ruth said. “The next time your mother drives, I want you to get on that phone of yours and buy the three of us tickets for Andy Williams. This is something I don’t want you girls to miss.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Annie murmured, but she didn’t sound happy about it.
Bethanne took over driving just outside Texas. Studying the map, she saw that their little venture to Las Vegas had taken them even farther off course than she’d realized. Fortunately, Branson was in the southern part of Missouri.
Once Bethanne was behind the wheel, both Ruth and Annie took naps. She welcomed the silence because it gave her a chance to think. Each day on the road, she’d chatted with Julia Hayden about the business and received an update. The company hardly needed her anymore; Julia was efficient and had good judgment.
She regretted the phone call to Max earlier that morning. At the time she’d been serious—clearing her mind of him was the only sensible option. What she’d told him was true. She couldn’t make a decision about Grant if all she could think about was Max. The best thing was to sever the tie quickly. Yet the moment she’d heard Max’s voice, Bethanne knew she couldn’t do it, couldn’t walk away as if he was nothing more than a Vegas fling.
Maybe she just needed to get him out of her system. Really, what could possibly come of a relationship with someone like Max? It wasn’t as if she could climb on the back of his Harley and travel across the country without a care in the world. Bethanne had responsibilities, a thriving company. Max had taken a sabbatical from his wine distribution company but he’d been away for three years. He hadn’t said when he planned to return, if ever.
He rode from one end of the country to the other with no destination, stopping here or there on a whim. What kind of life was that? He’d lost his wife and daughter. That was hard, grief was hard, but it’d been three years and he gave no indication that he was ever going to relinquish this lifestyle. The thought of any long-term relationship with Max was irrational. Out of the question.
If Max was a tumbleweed, drifting with the wind, Grant was like a rock. Solid. Hardworking. A family man. Even if he’d stumbled badly when he married Tiffany. For a short time, his world had revolved around the young woman and he’d turned a blind eye to everything he’d once considered a priority, including his own children.
But his infatuation with his new wife hadn’t lasted long. Only a few months after they’d married, there’d been trouble in that relationship.
Bethanne knew nothing about Grant and Tiffany’s divorce settlement, but she did know that Grant had paid dearly—and not just financially. Soon after he left her he’d been passed over for a huge promotion and changed companies as a result. She assumed he was doing well, since he never seemed to be strapped for money whenever the children needed it, although that wasn’t often these days, other than their college expenses.
“We’re near Amarillo, Texas,” Bethanne told her.
“Texas? We can’t be that far from the Alamo, then. It would just be a short side trip, wouldn’t it?”
“A short side trip like Vegas?” Ruth said, obviously awake now. “There’s a lot of miles between Amarillo and San Antonio, and this time I’m not giving in. We’re going to Branson, and that’s it.”
“Okay.” Annie sighed. “But I really don’t think the Alamo is that much out of our way.”
Bethanne handed her daughter the map. “You might want to take a look to get an idea of how big Texas is.”
“Mo-om, I know my geography.”
“How far is Amarillo from Branson?”
“According to MapQuest,” Annie said a few minutes later, studying her phone, “it’s almost nine hours.” She groaned with frustration.
“We’ll need to find a place for the night,” Ruth said, arching her back. “I’m beginning to go stir-crazy in this car.”
“We should spend a couple of days in Branson,” Bethanne suggested. “Shake off the road dust and let down our hair.”
“Two days.” Annie flopped back in her seat.
“I’ve always dreamed of seeing Andy Williams in concert,” Ruth said wistfully. “And now it’s about to become a reality.”
“That’s always been my dream, too,” Annie muttered sarcastically.
“Annie,” Bethanne said. “This is your grandmother’s trip.” Those words were a now-familiar refrain.
“I suppose I’ll have to wait until I’m in my sixties before I see the Alamo?”
Bethanne smothered a laugh. “Then you’ll appreciate it all the more, the same way your grandmother’s looking forward to seeing her teenage idol.”
“Whatever.” Annie slouched down in the seat. “I wrote an essay on it, you know,” she said righteously. “I got an A.” She closed her eyes, apparently picturing Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie making their last stand.
Just before they left the state of Texas, Bethanne stopped at a Dairy Queen for ice cream, which made for a small break. Several police and fire department vehicles were parked outside. Long ago Bethanne had read a comment that Dairy Queen restaurants were like city halls in Texas—the one establishment where everyone convened.
For reasons she didn’t even want to consider, she removed her cell from her purse and typed a text message to Max. She didn’t know if he’d receive it or if he’d respond. All she said was:
She hesitated before she pushed the send button, but sent it, anyway.
What was she doing? She felt like a first-time shoplifter certain to be caught. Regardless of all her assertions that what she did was her own business, she didn’t want Ruth or Annie to know.
“You okay?” Annie asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bethanne realized that, once again, she must look guilty. Why else would Annie question her? In fact, she felt guilty. She’d resolved to reconcile with Grant, or at least try, and yet she’d impulsively contacted Max….
“Mom!” Annie nudged her. “Your ice cream’s melting all over your hand.”
“Oh.” She looked down to discover that Annie was right. In the warm sun the soft-serve ice cream had melted and dripped down her wrist.
“Here.” Ruth passed her a wad of napkins.
Bethanne licked away at the cone but soon realized it was a lost cause and tossed the entire mess into a nearby garbage can.
Back on the road with Ruth driving, Bethanne fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She stared out the window and chewed on her fingertip. Even knitting didn’t help.
“What’s wrong with you?” Annie demanded.
“Why should anything be wrong?”
“How would I know?”
It wasn’t until they stopped for the night that Bethanne had a chance to look for Max’s reply, if there was one. Her eyes widened when she saw it. She held her breath. His response was simple:
I’ll meet you there.
Snapping the cell phone closed, she held it against herself only to find both Ruth and Annie studying her curiously. She exhaled and carefully set her phone aside.
Annie leaped off the bed, stalked over to the dresser and grabbed Bethanne’s cell. She opened it and frowned at the screen. “Mother!”
“What did she do now?” Ruth asked.
“She’s meeting Max in Branson.”
“Now listen,” Bethanne said. “First of all, Annie, what you’ve done is rude and it’s an invasion of my privacy. Secondly, I make my own decisions and I’m telling you right now, the more you pressure me into going back to Grant the more attractive Max looks. Unless I figure out how I feel about Max, I’ll never be happy with Grant.”