A Turn in the Road - Debbie Macomber [99]
Wasn’t she?
“Bethanne?”
At the sound of her name, she turned to find her ex-husband walking toward her. He looked relaxed and fit and—all right, she’d admit it—handsome. He wore white cotton pants and a printed floral shirt that showed off his tanned arms.
Bethanne glanced at her watch. It couldn’t possibly be one o’clock yet. Wrong. It was almost one-thirty.
Grant sat down in the sand next to her. “I didn’t know what to think when I couldn’t get ahold of you.”
“I had no idea so much time had passed.” She’d been on the beach for more than two hours. Thankfully, she’d lathered on sunscreen; otherwise, she would’ve burned to a crisp.
“Have you had lunch?”
She shook her head.
“There’s a fish-and-chip place down the beach. Royce mentioned it yesterday. How about that?”
“Sure.” She wasn’t hungry but he probably was.
Grant helped her to her feet, and they started walking along the beach in the opposite direction. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers.
“Do you remember our first date?” he said.
Of course she did. “We had fish and chips on the Seattle waterfront.”
“And I didn’t have enough money for two orders so we shared the one,” he said, grinning down at her.
“And the seagull stole your french fry.” She smiled at the memory of Grant chasing after the bird, demanding his french fry back. She’d laughed herself silly and recalled thinking she could really fall for this guy. “We were so young.”
Grant’s eyes smiled back at her. They reached the small restaurant and chose to eat indoors in the cool, air-conditioned room. The tables were mismatched but the aromas that filled the place were enough to convince Bethanne she had more of an appetite than she realized.
They shared an order of fish and fries, for old times’ sake. When their meal was delivered, Grant said, “That wasn’t the only time I was short on cash. Remember the night Andrew was born?”
As if she could ever forget. “What I remember is your panic when I told you I might be in labor. You immediately started doing the breathing exercises I was supposed to do until I thought you were about to hyperventilate.” Bethanne had been afraid they’d have to call an Aid Car for her husband.
“What you didn’t know was that I hadn’t paid the doctor everything we owed him and I was worried he wouldn’t deliver the baby without being paid.”
“Dr. McMahon never said a word.”
“Thank goodness.” Grant slathered a french fry with ketchup and popped it in his mouth.
“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.