A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(79)

As they walked back to the car, Royce pointed to a gnarled, fruit-laden tree at the edge of the grove. “I kissed you there for the first time,” he said, nostalgia coloring his voice.

“Not there,” Ruth said. “It was the second tree back.”

Royce stared at her in amazement. “You remember?”

“Of course I do.” Royce had always been—and evidently still was—a hopeless romantic. “I’d dropped by on some pretext about bringing your homework to you or something equally inane.” She rolled her eyes at the transparency of it. “You walked me out to the car and asked if I’d ever been in an orange grove before.”

“You hadn’t, so I offered to show you around,” he went on. His face lit up at the memory.

“I lied,” Ruth crowed. “Good grief, Royce, I’d grown up around the groves!”

“You lied?” He pretended to be shocked.

“I’m no dummy. I was hoping you were going to kiss me and I didn’t want to ruin my chances.”

Royce opened the car door for her. “As I recall, I was all teeth and no finesse.”

“As I recall,” she countered, “the minute your lips met mine, my toes curled up and I nearly swooned.”

Royce laughed and Ruth did, too. He raised her hand to his lips and gently pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I can assure you I’m a much better kisser these days.”

“For that matter, so am I,” she said archly.

They drove back across the Seventeenth Avenue bridge, heading south once they reached the island. Royce’s home presided over a narrow strip of land, with a view of the Atlantic Ocean from the front door and the Indian River from the back. Parking in the circular driveway outside his two-story house, he led her up the brick steps. When he ushered her in, the first things she saw were the large French doors that offered an expansive view of the Indian River. It wasn’t really a river, she knew—it was part of an inland waterway that stretched from Florida to Maine. Filled with brackish water, the waterway teemed with fish and fowl and was home to various marine animals. As a child she could remember lying on her belly on the dock, petting the manatees. Before the days when such contact was frowned upon, Ruth had discovered that manatees and dolphins were intensely curious creatures, apparently as eager to learn about humans as humans were to learn about them.

“Oh, Royce, this is magnificent.” She stepped around the table in the center of the foyer, barely noticing the huge floral arrangement that dominated it. “How long have you lived here?”

“A while now…” Royce gestured around him. “Ten years, I’d say. Since I retired from the math department at the University of Florida.”

“You always wanted a home on the river,” she reminded him. In their teens they’d spent many afternoons talking about their future. Naturally they’d be married. They’d chosen to ignore the fact that her family disapproved of him. They’d blithely planned to have two children and had even chosen their names: Molly and Royce, Jr.

“You were going to be a stewardess, remember?” Royce stared out over the water. “Sorry, I guess these days they’re called flight attendants.”

“Oh, yes.” That would’ve been a dream job, being able to travel around the world. “Instead, I stayed home and brought up my children. Richard was a good provider and wanted it that way,” she said matter-of-factly. “Later, after they were grown, I did tons of volunteer work.”

Following his father’s example, Grant had wanted the same for his wife and children. Bethanne had only worked outside the home briefly, before Andrew was born. From then on, her daughter-in-law had been an energetic and committed homemaker. It had been a rather old-fashioned choice, perhaps, and at odds with the times, since those years were the height of the women’s movement. Still, Bethanne had seemed content, throwing herself into supporting Grant’s career and being an ultra-attentive mother. Oh, how Ruth wished Grant had appreciated his wife more.

“What are you thinking?” Royce asked, moving to stand close beside her.

“Oh, nothing…just getting caught up in memories.” She shrugged, the silk of her blouse whispering against Royce’s arm.

“Of us?” he asked quietly.

“No…my son. What Grant failed to realize when he left Bethanne was that she was the secret behind his success. She filled the same role for him that I did for Richard.” Ruth shook her head. “It’s easy to take a wife for granted, I suppose.” She raised her eyes to meet Royce’s. “Bethanne gave everything she had to my son, and he tossed her aside for a younger woman.”

“He wouldn’t be the first man to make that mistake,” Royce said.

“And I doubt he’ll be the last.” Ruth sighed.

Royce wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “We still worry about our children, don’t we?” he murmured in her ear. “No matter what their ages.”

“I can’t help myself,” Ruth admitted miserably, leaning into Royce’s comforting bulk. Grant wasn’t her only concern. Robin was so similar to her father, and Ruth often feared her daughter would end up just like Richard, consumed by her job. In her darkest moments, Ruth imagined Robin dying young from a heart attack, without ever having really lived.