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?”
“Oh, come on, Grandma, Vegas was fun.”
“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.
“Mom?” Annie said, straightening and rubbing her eyes. “Where are we?”
“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:
Spending two nights in Branson, MO.
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.”
Ruth shrugged and got her book from her economy-size purse. “What you decide is up to you. You’re over twenty-one.”
“Way over.” Annie threw herself down on the bed.
“Thank you.” Bethanne felt better for having spoken her mind, although she could have done without Annie’s comment.
Her daughter plugged in the earbuds to her iPod and lay back, eyes closed.
Bethanne took a long, hot shower, crawled into bed beside Annie and opened her book. She read late. Both Annie and Ruth were asleep by the time she turned off her light.
Although it was past midnight and they had every intention of getting an early start in the morning, Bethanne couldn’t sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was Max. Not Grant. Max.
He planned to meet her in Branson. She didn’t know where he was when he got her message. Apparently, close enough to Missouri to get to Branson by the following afternoon. She wondered if Rooster was traveling with him. She didn’t like the thought of him on the road alone, although she understood that was often the case.
The next day when they arrived in Branson, the traffic was worse than Manhattan at rush hour. It took them forty-five minutes just to reach the hotel. Once they were in their room and unpacked, they went downstairs and ate a quick lunch in the hotel’s coffee shop.
Ruth paid the tab and went to collect the show tickets Annie had ordered for her. While she was away from the table, Bethanne’s cell phone rang. In her eagerness to answer, she dropped her purse and scrambled to retrieve it.
“Is that Max?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know yet,” she said as she bent down to get her cell from her bag. Caller ID revealed Grant’s name. She pushed the button that would send him directly to voice mail. “It’s your father.”
“Why didn’t you talk to him?”
“I will when I’m ready.”
“You’d rather speak to Max?” Annie sounded like a hurt little girl.
Bethanne put the cell beside her on the table. “Annie, please try to understand. I don’t know what I find so attractive about Max. I wish I did. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you and your grandmother, but I need to do this.”
“All right, Mom, have your fun. Dad and I will be waiting for you.”
The call from Max came fifteen minutes later. She and Annie were just finishing their coffee.
“Hi,” she said, keenly aware that Annie was listening.
“Hi. Where are you?”
She gave him the name of the hotel. “I’m not the most popular person at the moment.”
“So you told Grandma and Annie I was meeting you?”
“I did,” she admitted.
“I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he commented, obviously amused.
“A sensitive man wouldn’t remind me of that.”
“I guess that tells you all you need to know about me.”
Bethanne grinned but her smile faded when she saw Annie scowling at her.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour,” Max said.
“I’ll be there.” She closed her phone and then looked at her daughter. “Are you coming?”
“Where are you going?” Annie asked, following Bethanne out of the hotel.
“Shopping.”
“For what?” Annie asked, hurrying to keep up with her. “And shouldn’t we invite Grandma?”
“Sure. Give her a call.”
Bethanne was on a mission. She had an hour to deck herself out in jeans, boots and a Western shirt. If she was going to be in Branson, she intended to look like she belonged here.
* * *
With Bethanne and Annie shopping, Ruth stayed in their hotel room alone. She’d made her excuses and was grateful for this time by herself. She sat on the bed and fingered the paper Annie had given her. The paper on which her granddaughter had written down Royce’s phone number. She hadn’t decided what to do.
Thankfully, neither Bethanne nor Annie had pressured her about contacting him, although both seemed to think she should. Bethanne had said something that made a lot of sense. If she called Royce now, she wouldn’t have that confrontation awaiting her when she arrived and she’d be able to enjoy the rest of the trip.
Every mile that brought her closer to Florida, closer to Royce, increased her anxiety.
She needed to do this—and she didn’t want Bethanne and Annie hearing her conversation. Although she sort of wished someone was with her now to hold her hand, to encourage her and to offer comfort if it went badly. This was really difficult, so much more difficult than she’d ever expected.
She took the hotel phone from the nightstand next to the bed, stretching the cord so she could set it beside her. She smoothed out the slip of paper, running her hand over it two or three times. Finally, she reached for the receiver, following the instructions in order to place a long-distance call.
A minute after that, the phone rang at the other end.
It rang again as she held her breath. Again.
Then Royce answered. “Hello.”
Despite all the years since they’d spoken, she recognized his voice.
She couldn’t speak.
“Hello?” he repeated.
“Royce?” Somehow she managed to whisper his name.
“Yes? Who is this?”
His own voice fell, and Ruth was fairly certain he already knew the answer.
“It’s Ruth.” The silence was terrible. “I heard you planned to attend the class reunion,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I...I thought it was only fair that you know I’ll be there, too. Actually, my daughter-in-law and granddaughter felt I should warn you.” At first, she couldn’t utter a word, and now she couldn’t seem to shut up. “We’re driving across the country... We’re in Branson and we—Oh, none of that’s important.”
The silence on his end of the line returned and Ruth was convinced she’d made a mistake.
“Would you rather I didn’t attend the reunion?” he asked after another long moment.
“Oh, no... I mean, yes. I want you there. I’d really hoped we’d have a chance to talk first, though...if you agree.”
More silence. Ruth couldn’t stand the tension.
Eventually, he spoke. “I think that would be a good idea. Call me when you get into town, okay?”
“Yes... I’ll do that.” Her hand squeezed the phone so hard, she thought her fingers might leave indentations.
“Ruth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you called.”
The tension between her shoulders eased. “I am, too.”
She replaced the receiver, but her hand lingered on it for several minutes as she considered their short conversation. Already she felt better. Setting the phone back on the nightstand, she nearly collapsed against the pillows.
* * *
Annie’s sour mood improved fast, which was due, no doubt, to some old-fashioned retail therapy. Bethanne made her purchases in record time. The two of them returned to the hotel room, their arms loaded with packages.
Ruth talked to Annie about their shopping excursion as Bethanne hurriedly changed into her new outfit, complete with red cowboy boots. If her friend Anne Marie Roche, the local bookstore owner, could own a pair, then she could, too.
“How do I look?” she asked her mother-in-law, twirling around and modeling her new clothes.
Ruth frowned. “Like Dale Evans.”
“Dale who?” Annie asked.
“Never mind.” Ruth got her purse. “Come on, Annie, or we’ll be late.”
“Late? For what?”
“The show. I told you I wanted both of you to see it, and your mother obviously isn’t coming with me. I’ve got three tickets, for heaven’s sake. I have no intention of going alone.” She frowned. “Maybe I can scalp one of them.”
“Grandma!” Annie rolled her eyes. “Until yesterday I didn’t even know who this Andy person was.”
Bethanne didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. She was out the door before either of them had time to protest. Entering the lobby, she looked around, disappointed to see that Max hadn’t arrived yet. She found a vacant wingback chair by the fireplace, where she sat and waited—but not for long. A few minutes later, the elevator doors slid open and Max and Rooster stepped out.
Max looked even better than she remembered. For a moment all Bethanne could do was stare. He didn’t immediately see her, but when he did, a slow smile crossed his face.
“Hi,” she said, standing and walking toward him.
“Hi.” He met her halfway.
Bethanne held out her hands to him, and Max took her fingers in his.
“I didn’t ride all this way to hold hands,” he said. “I’m desperate for one of those hugs of yours.”
She was equally desperate to give him one, knowing the kisses would come later. As they embraced, she closed her eyes. His arms felt so good around her, so right.
“Twenty hours on the bike and all he wants is a hug?” Rooster laughed. “There’s definitely something wrong.”
“Twenty hours?” Bethanne asked, breaking away to study him.
“We took off the minute he got your message,” Rooster elaborated.
“Where were you?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m here now,” Max said, glaring at his friend.
“Vegas,” Rooster supplied.
“Oh, Max.” She held her palms against his face, wanting more than anything to kiss him. She couldn’t. Not here in the hotel lobby, but soon. Very soon.