A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(35)

“He’s doing everything he can to make up for what he did,” Annie said. “All he wants is for the two of you to get back together.”

“Annie—” She wasn’t allowed to finish.

“Maybe you think I shouldn’t have told him about you riding off with Max, but…I felt he has a right to know.”

“If you feel it’s important to keep your father updated, then do so,” Bethanne told her daughter. She stopped herself from saying that she’d prefer it if Annie omitted any details pertaining to her.

“Daddy loves you,” Annie added. “You can’t expect him to deny his feelings.”

Bethanne didn’t doubt that Grant had loved her in the past, especially when they were first married. At the births of their children he’d wept tears of joy as he held her hand and thanked her for making him a father. She remembered the good years they’d shared, the career he’d built and the comfortable lifestyle he’d provided. However, those happy reminiscences were tainted by everything that had led up to and followed the divorce. Did he love her when he checked into a hotel room with Tiffany and then came home at night, all smiles? Did he love her the day he announced he wanted a divorce? He’d been heartless the morning he walked out the door. Bethanne had worked hard to forgive him, but she wasn’t sure she could ever forget the devastating pain Grant had brought into her life and her children’s. Or could she? If they were to reunite, that was the question she’d need to confront—and answer.

“I think I’ll settle down for the night,” Bethanne said, closing her book.

“Mom?”

“Yes?” Bethanne rearranged her pillows and looked up at her daughter.

“Say something!”

“About what, sweetie?”

“The fact that Daddy still loves you.” Annie’s eyes widened as she waited for Bethanne’s response.

“I know he does, and I love him, too…. I always will.” That love had altered but the flame hadn’t completely burned out. She didn’t want to feel anything for Grant and yet she did. How could she not? They were married for twenty years. She’d given birth to his children. Those were facts she couldn’t ignore or forget. But love, she’d discovered, had many sides, many angles, and some were sharper than others.

“Then there really is hope that you might reconcile?” Her daughter’s face filled with anticipation.

This was the same question that had been rattling around her head for the past few weeks—and the past few minutes. “I can’t answer that yet.”

“But you’re thinking about it?”

Bethanne smiled at her. “I’m giving it…consideration.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so…” Ruth levered herself up on one elbow. She hadn’t been sleeping, after all. “Grant’s learned from his mistake. He’s paid the price. We all do sooner or later,” she said, looking tired and sad. “For myself, I appreciate that he’s man enough to admit it. Not many would, you realize?”

“You’re right.”

Annie and Ruth exchanged warm smiles.

“I guess I’ll wait until we get to Vegas to check out a casino,” Annie said, and swallowed a wide yawn. “We’ve had quite a day.”

“Indeed,” Ruth murmured.

Grinning to herself, Bethanne reached for her novel again, while Annie changed clothes and slid into bed beside her. Within minutes, her daughter’s even breathing told Bethanne she was asleep. Ruth was, too. As soon as she finished her chapter, she closed the book and turned off her light. With her head nestled in the pillow, she shut her eyes, confident that sleep would soon overtake her despite the relentless glow from the casino’s blinking sign. On, off. On, off…

To her surprise, she found her thoughts drifting to Max and what he’d told her about losing his wife. It’d been three years, he’d said. He’d grieved for three years. This man loved deeply. The possibility of that kind of unwavering love brought her solace, and she fell instantly asleep.

Annie woke when she heard her mother flick off the bedside lamp. The hotel room was bathed in muted shades of red and green from the casino’s neon lights, which shone outside their window. They flashed off and on in Christmas colors and flickered through the slit between the drapes.

Rolling onto her side, Annie pulled the sheet over her shoulder and tucked it securely around her. She wished now that she hadn’t called her father. She’d tried Andrew, but he hadn’t been home and apparently hadn’t checked his text messages, either. Otherwise, he would’ve called her back.

Mainly Annie had wanted to tell someone about their adventure. In retrospect, the afternoon had been amusing. A great anecdote that the three of them would repeat for years. Until recently, she would’ve immediately called Vance and regaled him with it, too. Only, he was out of her life.

Her ego was gratified by the fact that he’d made several efforts to contact her, all of which she’d ignored. He was not to be trusted. Annie had never hidden anything from him and yet he’d— Well, it didn’t serve any useful purpose to review the list of wrongs Vance had committed against her.

Because her brother was clearly preoccupied, and she wasn’t talking to Vance, and her friends were all off in various places this summer, Annie had phoned her father. She thought her grandmother had been hilarious, taking the bikers’ clothes. Even now, just thinking about it made her smile.