A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(20)

Not only did Marie become her friend, she’d taken Ruth under her wing, recommended her own obstetrician and driven Ruth to and from her first few appointments. She’d shared baby clothes and maternity outfits with her. Best of all, she’d taken time for long afternoon chats, despite the fact that she had children of her own and often helped her parents at the roadside restaurant.

Ruth had lived in Pendleton for only a couple of years, but she never forgot Marie, even though her own life had changed—and improved—soon after. The effort to stay in touch lasted several Christmases but eventually they’d lost contact. Still, Marie’s friendship had brought her comfort and support all those years ago.

The café sat back from the road, surrounded by a gravel parking lot, just outside the Pendleton city limits. The white paint had long since grown dingy, and the windows looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in months. A sign out front announced Home Cooking.

“Looks like it’s still in business,” Ruth said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

I told you this was a good idea,” Annie said. “You’re glad we came this way, aren’t you, Grandma?”

“Very glad,” she said, and it was true.

“The sign on the building says it’s Marie’s Café,” Annie pointed out.

“She must’ve taken over from her parents,” Ruth commented. She grabbed her purse and was practically out of the car before Annie had pulled to a complete stop. She didn’t wait for the others.

The café door creaked as she opened it—and then came to an abrupt halt. It was as if she’d stepped back fifty years. The café was the same as she remembered, right down to the aluminum paper napkin dispensers and the tabletop jukeboxes. The booths had the identical red vinyl upholstery, but surely the seats had been recovered, probably more than once. The plastic-covered menus were tucked behind the ketchup and mustard containers, which stood next to the salt and pepper shakers.

More afternoons than she could recall, Ruth had sat in one of these very booths with her infant son at her side as she drank a cherry soda and talked over life’s challenges with her friend.

At one stage, soon after Grant’s birth, Ruth had been ready to admit her marriage was a huge mistake. She wanted to end it. Marie had listened and been sympathetic to her tales of woe. Richard spent so little time with her and their son that Ruth was convinced he didn’t love her, that he never really had. Their marriage was a sham, she’d told her friend, and it was better to own up to her mistake and get out now before their lives became even more complicated.

Marie didn’t attempt to talk her out of her decision; all she’d really done was ask Ruth a few questions. As she answered, Ruth realized how important it was to do whatever she could to make this marriage work. Not only because of their son, but because marriage was supposed to be a partnership and that required something from her, too. An honest commitment, a genuine effort… In the back of her mind, and it embarrassed her now to admit this, she’d felt she could always go home, back to Florida….

Back to Royce Jameson. She suspected Bethanne had picked up on the fact that there was more involved in this reunion than meeting her high school friends, much as she looked forward to that. Royce would be there, too; Jane had written her with the news. The possibility of seeing him again had everything to do with wanting to return to Florida. They’d been high school sweethearts—an old-fashioned term, perhaps, one Annie might have scoffed at, but it was true. They’d been so young and so deeply in love. But she’d hurt him terribly and even after all these years she wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her.

The last time they’d stood face-to-face was the summer after their high school graduation. They’d held each other and they’d kissed, vowing that nothing would ever come between them. He was leaving for boot camp and she was heading off to college. They’d promised to love each other forever and ever. Six months later she was engaged to Richard.

Their final conversation had been horrific. Ugly. She’d taken the coward’s way out and written him from college that she was marrying Richard. Back then Royce was in the marines and stationed in California before being deployed. When he received her letter he’d phoned her at her college dorm, angry and hurt. She’d listened while he accused her of terrible things. The conversation was one of the most painful of her life, and she’d sobbed for hours afterward.

All she knew of Royce’s life in recent years was that, like her, he hadn’t attended any of the previous reunions. And, like her, he’d lost his spouse.

In the end, of course, Ruth had stayed with Richard and later given birth to Robin. She’d heard from Diane, her high school friend, when Royce had married. It’d been a good time in her own marriage and she was happy for him. She wished him well.

“Can I help you?” A woman in her late sixties or early seventies hurried out from the kitchen, wearing a white apron. Yellow rubber gloves covered her hands; she appeared to be the dishwasher.

“Marie?” Ruth asked tentatively. “Is that you?”

Marie came a step closer. “Ruth? Ruth Hamlin?”

They both gave a shout of recognition and advanced toward each other, arms outstretched, laughing and talking at the same time.

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” Marie claimed.

“You look wonderful.”