A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(82)

“You so badly wanted a son,” she reminded him.

“I did not,” he insisted. “I would’ve been happy with either.”

“So you said,” she muttered, and picked up a fry, dipping it in a pool of ketchup. “But when the doctor announced we had a son, you gave the loudest whoop I’d ever heard and high-fived the nurse.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“I was there. I remember it clearly, Grant Hamlin.”

“I expected another boy when you had Annie.” He smiled, his gaze turned inward. “I fell head over heels for that baby girl.”

Bethanne had to agree. Annie held her daddy’s heart in the palm of her hand the first moment he laid eyes on her. The only time their relationship had been strained was shortly before and then after the divorce. Everything seemed back to normal between them now, and for that Bethanne was grateful. Annie needed her father’s love and approval perhaps even more than she did Bethanne’s.

“Do you remember when Andrew got pneumonia?”

Bethanne set down her fork and reached for a napkin to wipe the grease from her fingers. Their son had been just eighteen months old and she’d already taken him to the pediatrician twice that week. The nurse had made her feel she was being overprotective and a bother. That night Andrew wasn’t any better and she’d held her son in her arms for hours as he struggled to breathe. First thing the next morning, she drove him to the doctor again, ready to face down that dragon of a nurse, only to have the doctor explode in anger at her for not getting Andrew to the hospital. Bethanne had burst into tears. She’d phoned Grant, who met her at Emergency and gently took her in his arms. He’d been her strength when their son was put in an oxygen tent.

“There were some hard times when the kids were growing up, weren’t there?” Bethanne said. She swore Annie had the worst case of chicken pox of any child she knew. They went down her throat and into her stomach. The poor child had been miserable for days. No one else had slept, either.

“We had plenty of good memories, too.”

Bethanne had to agree they did. “Like our tenth wedding anniversary.”

“Rome.”

“And you were so confident your high school Italian would be enough for us to get around by ourselves,” Bethanne said, wondering if he recalled some of their adventures.

“We could afford the plane fare and that cheap hotel and food, of course, but not much else,” Grant was quick to add.

Not that Bethanne needed any reminders. Their budget had been squeaky tight and they were unable to afford any tours. All at once she began to laugh. When Grant gave her an odd look, she covered her mouth and muttered, “The cheese. Don’t you remember the cheese?”

Grant stared at her blankly.

“You can’t have forgotten the cheese.”

“We bought cheese?” he asked, his eyes widening.

Still laughing, Bethanne nudged him. “You’re kidding—you really don’t remember? You were so sure you could make yourself understood. The Englishman at the hotel suggested a cheese shop, but somehow we got the directions wrong.”

Grant shrugged; the story appeared to have been erased from his memory.

“We stopped in another store to ask about the cheese shop, and the owner kept shaking her head as you chatted away, looking for directions.”

“No doubt in brilliant Italian.”

“No doubt,” she echoed. “Then the owner smiled, went into the back room and returned with two candlesticks.”

“Leave it to you to remember that,” Grant said with a grin. “We did eventually find the cheese shop, didn’t we?”

“Eventually, after we stopped laughing.”

Grant’s eyes darkened then, and he grew serious as he reached for a paper napkin and dabbed the edges of his mouth. “We were happy, Bethanne.”

“Yes,” she said, as her amusement faded. “We were.” He’d told her that more than once, and these reminiscences had confirmed the truth of it.

“We can be again.”

Their eyes held. She longed to believe him, longed for some reassurance that the possibility was as real as it felt in that moment. Life during the past six years had taught her that the future didn’t come with any guarantees.

“I want to believe that, Grant.”

“I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to make you happy.” He took her hand. “All I’m asking is that we put the past behind us and try again.”

She nodded, unsure how to respond. Being with Max had felt so right but he remained a mystery. When it came down to it, she knew shockingly little about him. He kept everything close to his chest, almost as if he was afraid to share too much of himself with her…with anyone.

Grant was safe, a known quantity. Yes, his betrayal had come between them, damaged them; despite that they knew each other as well as any two people who’d spent twenty years as husband and wife possibly could.

Or did they? She couldn’t help wondering if Grant recognized the changes in her.

“Why the frown?” he asked.

“I was frowning?” Bethanne hadn’t been aware that her uncertainty showed so easily on her face. “Do you really know me, Grant?” she asked. “The woman I am today isn’t the woman I was when we divorced.”