A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(11)

“Would it be possible to put the past behind us—forget about the divorce and pretend the past seven years never happened?”

“But they did.”

“I know,” he whispered brokenly. “If I could take away what I did to you and the kids, I would. I’d pay whatever it cost. If you wanted blood, I’d bleed. I’m miserable without you, Bethanne.” His words were heartbreaking in their sincerity. “Tell me you’d be willing to let me have a second chance. All I need is a sliver of hope.”

He wanted an answer…but as hard as she tried, Bethanne couldn’t give him one.

A lump formed in her throat. She had loved Grant…still did in certain ways that were tied to their shared past, to the memories of their marriage, the years of struggle and sacrifice, the happiness of companionship. And despite everything, they were linked forever through their children.

“Maybe,” she breathed.

He smiled then, and his shoulders relaxed. “That’s enough for now.”

Four

Annie rummaged around inside her mother’s closet looking for the silver chain belt that would go perfectly with her Mexican-style skirt. When Vance came by to pick her up for dinner, she wanted him to be awestruck by her beauty. It wasn’t every day of the week that a girl got a marriage proposal—if that was what he intended. Annie thought so; all the evidence pointed to exactly that. Dinner at an expensive restaurant, being seen in a high-end jewelry store. What else was she to think?

She located the belt and wrapped it around her waist, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on her mother’s bathroom door. The mirror also reflected the queen-size bed her parents had once shared. Even after six years of living alone, her mother still slept on the right-hand side. Not in the middle.

Silly as it sounded, this gave Annie hope that her parents would one day reunite. It was what her father wanted most in the world. What Annie wanted, too. Her parents were meant to be together. Her father had made a terrible mistake, but he was sorry. More than anything he wanted to make it up to the family, and in Annie’s opinion they should let him.

It felt good to be close to her dad again. Now that the lovely Tiffany was gone, Annie felt there was real hope for a reconciliation between her parents. It just seemed wrong for them to live apart. The problem was getting her mother to recognize how sincere he was and take him back. Annie loved them both so much, and all she wanted was for them to be happy. What they did with their lives wasn’t really up to her, as Andrew pointed out with annoying regularity, but sometimes she felt she understood them better than they understood themselves.

The security alarm beeped, indicating that someone had entered the house. “Is that you, Mom?” Annie called down from the second-story hallway.

“Annie? What are you doing here?”

Annie had her own apartment near the University of Washington campus. “I came to borrow your silver belt. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you and Dad finished with dinner already?” she asked as she walked down the stairs.

“Yes, it didn’t take long.” Bethanne hung her jacket in the hall closet and smiled over at Annie. “You look fabulous.”

“You think so?” Confirmation from her mother meant everything.

“What time is Vance picking you up for dinner?” her mother asked, glancing at her watch.

“Eight-thirty. Our reservation isn’t until nine.”

“That’s a little late for dinner, isn’t it?”

Annie nodded. “Vance said that was the earliest he could get us a table. Every tourist visiting Seattle wants to eat at the Space Needle. Vance must have pulled a few strings to even get a reservation.”

Her mother considered the comment. “I didn’t realize Vance knew anyone with strings to pull.”

“Mom,” she protested. “Vance had classes with Matt, remember? And Matt buses tables at the Space Needle. Matt must’ve put in a word for Vance.”

“He must have.” Her mother walked into the living room, where she kept her knitting.

“How’re Courtney’s wedding gloves coming along?”

“So far so good.” Bethanne settled into her favorite chair. She had the pattern on a clipboard, held there by a magnet that marked her row. Her mother picked up her glasses, perching them on the end of her nose, and her knitting, which only had a few rows completed.

This was a far more complicated project than anything Annie would ever undertake. “I want you to knit something for my wedding, too, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else—when the time comes. If you want, you can take a look at the dress and veil I wore when I married your father. It’s yours should you choose to wear it.”

“Oh. Mom, could I really wear your wedding dress?”

“We’re about the same size, so I don’t see why not.”

Her parents’ wedding picture used to hang on the stairway wall. Annie had seen it practically every day of her life until after their divorce. She didn’t know where the photograph was anymore. The last time she’d noticed it, the glass had been cracked. She assumed her mother had broken it the morning her father announced he was in love with the lovely Tiffany.

Annie couldn’t quite remember what the wedding dress looked like. What she did recall was the joy on her mother’s face. She’d been such a young woman—younger than Annie—and a beautiful bride. Her father had been young, too, and so handsome. Annie had loved that photograph.