A Turn in the Road - Debbie Macomber [24]
“Did I sound short with your father?” she asked.
“A little.”
Bethanne looked at Ruth, who shrugged. “Just a tad, honey.”
Bethanne exhaled and forced herself to remember that she was traveling with two of his staunchest advocates.
“Is there any possibility the two of you might reconcile?” her ex-mother-in-law asked, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Of course there’s a chance,” Annie answered on Bethanne’s behalf. “There’s always a chance, right, Mom?”
Bethanne took her time answering, apparently longer than Annie liked, because both her daughter and Ruth stopped eating and stared at her intently. “Yes, I suppose there is,” she finally agreed.
Seven
“Look, the café’s still there!” Ruth called from the backseat. Annie had been driving since Richland, with Bethanne knitting beside her. Ruth leaned forward, thrilled about the opportunity to see her old friend again. When she’d met Marie, she’d been pregnant, away from family and friends, and in a marriage that hadn’t started out in the most positive way.
They’d moved to Pendleton because that was where Richard’s first job was. He’d wanted to make a good impression on his employer; he’d been young, ambitious and eager to prove his worth. Her husband of less than a year had worked long days, abandoning Ruth to countless hours alone in a rental house in this town where she didn’t know a single soul. Meeting her neighbor, Marie, had been a lifesaver. Ruth had needed a friend, a connection with someone. She hadn’t really been prepared for the pregnancy, and she suffered from violent bouts of nausea that lasted through most of the day.
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