A Bend in the Road (11 page)

Leaning against
the wall, one leg crossed over the other, Miles twirled his cue stick in his
hands and waited.

The thirteen
ball dropped into the side pocket on an easy tap in.

With that, he
frowned slightly.Strange that she hasn’t missed a shot yet. . . .  The fifteen, on what can only be described
as a lucky bank shot, followed the thirteen a moment later, and he had to fight
the urge to reach for the pack of cigarettes in his jacket.

Only the eight
ball was left, and Sarah stood from the table and reached for the chalk. “I go
for the eight, right?” she asked.

Miles shifted
slightly. “Yeah, but you’ve got to call the pocket.” “Okay,” she said. She
moved around the table until her back was toward him. She pointed with her cue
stick. “I guess I’ll go for the corner pocket, then.” A long shot, with a bit
of an angle needed to get there. Makeable, but tough.

Sarah leaned over
the table.

“Be careful you
don’t scratch,” Miles added. “If you do, I win.”

“I won’t,” she
whispered to herself.

Sarah took the
shot. A moment later the eight dropped in, and Sarah stood and turned around, a
big grin on her face. “Wow—can you believe that?” Miles was still looking at
the corner pocket. “Nice shot,” he said almost in disbelief.

“Beginner’s
luck,” she said dismissively. “Do you want to rack them again?” “Yeah . . . I
suppose so,” he said uncertainly. “You made a few really good ones there.”

“Thanks,” she
said.

Miles finished
his beer before racking the balls again. He broke, sinking a ball, but he
missed his second shot.

With a
sympathetic shrug before she began, Sarah proceeded to run the table without a
miss. By the time she’d finished, Miles was simply staring at her from his spot
along the wall. He’d set aside the cue stick halfway through the game and had
ordered two more beers from a passing waitress.  “I think that I’ve been hustled,” he said knowingly.

“I think you’re
right,” she said, moving toward him. “But at least we weren’t betting. If we
were, I wouldn’t have made it look so easy.” Miles shook his head in amazement.
“Where did you learn to play?” “My dad. We always had a pool table in the
house. He and I used to play all the time.”

“So why didn’t
you stop me from showing you how to shoot before I made a fool of myself?”

“Well . . . you
seemed so intent on helping me that I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Gee, I
appreciate that.” He handed her a beer, and as she took it, their fingers
brushed lightly. Miles swallowed.

Damn, she was
pretty. Up close, even more so.

Before he could
think about it any further, there was a slight commotion behind him. Miles
turned at the sound.

“So how are you
two doing, Deputy Ryan?”

He tensed
automatically at Otis Timson’s question. Otis’s brother was standing just
behind him, holding a beer, his eyes glassy. Otis gave Sarah a mock salute, and
she took a small step away from Otis, toward Miles.  “And how areyou doing? Nice to see you again.”

Miles followed Otis’s
eyes toward Sarah.

“He was the guy I
told you about earlier,” she whispered.

Otis raised his
eyebrows at that but said nothing.

“What the hell do
you want, Otis?” Miles said warily, remembering what Charlie had told him.

“I don’t want
anything,” Otis answered. “I just wanted to say hello.”

Miles turned
away. “Do you want to go to the bar?” he asked Sarah.

“Sure,” she
agreed.

“Yeah, go ahead.
I don’t want to keep you from your date,” Otis said. “You got a nice gal,
there,” he said. “Looks like you’ve found someone new.” Miles flinched, and
Sarah saw how much the comment stung. Miles opened his mouth to respond, but
nothing came out. His hands balled into fists, but instead he took a deep
breath and turned to Sarah.

“Let’s go,” he
said. His tone reflected a rage she’d never heard before.  “Oh, by the way,” Otis added. “The whole
thing with Harvey? Don’t worry too much about it. I asked him to go easy on
you.”

A crowd,
sensing trouble, was beginning to gather. Miles stared hard at Otis, who
returned the gaze without moving. Otis’s brother had moved off to the side, as
if getting ready to jump in if he needed to.

“Let’s just
go,” Sarah said a little more forcefully, doing her best to keep this from
getting any more out of hand. She took Miles by the arm and tugged.  “Come on . . . please, Miles,” she pleaded.

It was enough
to get his attention. Sarah grabbed both their jackets, stowing them under her
arm as she pulled him through the crowd. People parted before them, and a
minute later they were outside. Miles shook her hand from his arm, angry at
Otis, angry at himself for almost losing control, and stalked down the alley,
out toward the street. Sarah followed a few steps behind, pausing to put her
jacket on.

“Miles . . .
wait . . .”

It took a
moment for the words to sink in, and Miles finally stopped, looking toward the
ground. When she approached, holding out his jacket, Miles didn’t seem to
notice.

“I’m sorry
about all that,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.  “You didn’t do anything, Miles,” she said. When he didn’t
respond, Sarah moved closer. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah . . . I’m
okay.” His voice was so low that she barely heard it. For a moment, he looked
exactly like Jonah when she assigned too much work. “You don’t look okay,” she
finally said. “In fact, you look pretty terrible.” Despite his anger, he
laughed under his breath. “Thanks a lot.” On the street, a car rolled by,
looking for a parking space. A cigarette sailed out the window, landing in the
gutter. It was colder now, too cold to stay in one place, and Miles reached for
his jacket and slipped it on. Without a word, they set off down the street.
Once they reached the corner, Sarah broke the silence.

“Can I ask what
that was all about in there?”

After a long
moment, Miles shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“They usually
are.”

They took a few
steps, their footsteps the only sound on the streets.

“We have a
history,” Miles finally offered. “Not a very good one.”

“I picked up on
that part,” she said. “I’m not exactly dense, you know.”

Miles didn’t
respond.

“Look, if you’d
rather not talk about it . . .”

It offered Miles
a way out, and he almost took her up on it. Instead, however, he pushed his
hands into his pockets and closed his eyes for a long moment. Over the next few
minutes, he told Sarah everything—about the arrests over the years, the
vandalism in and around his home, the cut on Jonah’s cheek—ending with the
latest arrest and even Charlie’s warning. As he talked, they wound back through
downtown, past the closed-up businesses and the Episcopal church, finally
crossing Front Street and heading into the park at Union Point. Through it all,
Sarah listened quietly. When he was finished, she looked up at him.  “I’m sorry I stopped you,” she said quietly.
“I should have let you beat him to a pulp.”

“No, I’m glad
you did. He’s not worth it.”

They passed the
old women’s club, once a quaint meeting place but long since abandoned, and the
ruins of the building seemed to encourage silence, almost as if they were in a cemetery.
Years of flooding by the Neuse had rendered the building all but uninhabitable
except for birds and other assorted wildlife. 
Once Miles and Sarah neared the riverbank, they stopped to stare at the
tar-colored water of the Neuse drifting slowly before them. Water slapped
against the marlstone along the banks in a steady rhythm.  “Tell me about Missy,” she said finally,
breaking the stillness that had settled over them.

“Missy?”

“I’d like to
know what she was like,” she said honestly. “She’s a big part of who you are,
but I don’t know anything about her.”

After a moment,
Miles shook his head. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well . . . what
do you miss the most?”

Across the river,
a mile distant, he could see flickering porch lights, bright pinpricks in the
distance that seemed to hang in the air like fireflies on hot summer nights.

“I miss having
her around,” he began. “Just being there when I got off work, or waking up
beside her, or seeing her in the kitchen or out in the yard—anywhere.  Even if we didn’t have much time, there was
something special in knowing that she would be there if I needed her. And she
would have been. We’d been married long enough to go through all those stages
that married people go through—the good, the not so good, even the bad—and we’d
settled into something that worked for both of us. We were both kids when we
started out, and we knew people who got married around the same time we did.
After seven years, a lot of friends had divorced and a few had already gotten
remarried.” He turned from the river to face her. “But we made it, you know? I
look back on that, and it’s something that I’m proud of, because I know how
rare it was. I never regretted the fact that I’d married her. Never.”

Miles cleared
his throat.

“We used to spend
hours just talking about everything, or about nothing. It didn’t really matter.
She loved books and she used to tell me all the stories she was reading, and
she could do it in a way that made me want to read them, too. I remember she
used to read in bed and sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night and
she’d be sound asleep with the book on the end table with her reading light
still on. I’d have to get out of bed to turn it off. That happened more often
after Jonah was born—she was tired all the time, but even then, she had a way
of acting like she wasn’t. She was wonderful with him. I remember when Jonah
started trying to walk. He was about seven months old, which is way too early.
I mean, he couldn’t even crawl yet, but he wanted to walk. She spent weeks
walking through the house all bent over so he could hold her fingers, just
because he liked it. She’d be so sore in the evenings that unless I gave her a
massage, she wouldn’t be able to move the next day. But you know . . .” He
paused, meeting Sarah’s eyes.

“She never
complained about it. I think it was what she was meant to do. She used to tell
me that she wanted to have four kids, but after Jonah, I kept coming up with
excuses why it wasn’t the right time, until she finally put her foot down. She
wanted Jonah to have brothers and sisters, and I realized that I did, too. I
know from experience how hard it is to be an only child, and I wish I’d
listened to her earlier. For Jonah, I mean.”

Sarah swallowed
before squeezing his arm in support. “She sounds great.”

On the river, a
trawler was inching its way up the channel, engines humming.  When the breeze drifted in his direction,
Miles caught the barest hint of the honeysuckle shampoo she’d used.

For a while
they stood in companionable silence, the comfort of each other’s presence
cocooning them like a warm blanket in the dark.  It was getting late now. Time to call it a night. As much as he
wished he could make the night last forever, he knew he couldn’t. Mrs. Knowlson
expected him home by midnight.

“We should go,”
he said.

Five minutes
later, outside her building, Sarah let go of his arm so she could search for
her keys.

“I had a good
time tonight,” she said.

“So did I.”

“And I’ll see you
tomorrow?”

It took a second
before he remembered that she was going to Jonah’s game. “Don’t forget—it
starts at nine.”

“Do you know what
field?”

“I have no idea,
but we’ll be there. I’ll watch for you.”

In the brief lull
that followed, Sarah thought that Miles might try to kiss her, but he surprised
her by taking a small step backward.

“Listen . . . I
gotta go . . .”

“I know,” she
said, both glad and disappointed that he hadn’t tried. “Drive safe.”

Sarah watched
him head around the corner toward a small silver pickup truck and open the
door, slipping behind the wheel. He waved one last time before starting the
engine.

She stood on
the sidewalk staring after his taillights until long after he was gone.

Sarah made it
to the soccer game the following morning a few minutes before the game started.
Dressed in jeans and boots with a thick turtleneck sweater and sunglasses, she
stood out among the harried-looking parents. How she could look both casual and
elegant at the same time was beyond Miles. 
Jonah, who was kicking the ball with a group of friends, spotted her
across the field and ran toward her to give her a hug. He took her hand and
dragged her toward Miles.

“Look who I
found, Dad,” he said a minute later. “Miss Andrews is here.”

“I see that,”
Miles answered, running his hand through Jonah’s hair.

“She looked
lost,” Jonah offered. “So I went to get her.”

“What would I do
without you, champ?” He gazed at Sarah.

“You’re beautiful
and charming, and I can’t stop thinking about last night.” No, he didn’t say
that. Not exactly, anyway. What Sarah heard was, “Hey—how are you?”

“Good,” she
answered. “It’s a little early to start my weekend mornings, though.

It sorta felt
like I was heading off to work.”

Over her
shoulder, Miles saw the team beginning to cluster together, and he used it as
an excuse to escape her gaze. “Jonah, I think your coach just got here. .

. .”

Jonah’s head
swiveled around and he started struggling with his sweatshirt before Miles
helped him take it off. When his head was free, Miles tucked the sweatshirt
under his arm.

“Where’s my
ball?”

“Weren’t you just
kicking it around a little while ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Then where is
it?”

“I don’t know.”

Miles dropped to
one knee and began tucking Jonah’s shirt in. “We’ll find it later. I don’t
think you need it now, anyway.”

“But the coach said
we had to bring it for the warm-up.”

“Just borrow
someone else’s.”

“Then what will
they use?” There was a tinge of worry in his tone.

“You’ll be fine. Go
on. The coach is waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“But—”

“Go on. They’re
waiting for you.”

A moment later,
after debating whether or not his father was right, Jonah finally scrambled
toward his team. Sarah watched it all with a bemused smile, enjoying their
interaction.

Miles motioned to
the bag. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I brought a thermos.”

“No, that’s okay.
I had some tea before I got here.”

“Herbal?”

“Earl Grey,
actually.”

“With toast and
jelly?”

“No, with my
cereal. Why?”

Miles nodded.
“Just curious.”

A whistle blew
and the teams began to gather on the infield, setting up for the game.

“Can I ask you a
question?”

“As long as it’s
not about my breakfast,” she countered.

“It might sound
strange.”

“Why does that
not surprise me?”

Miles cleared his
throat. “Well, I was just wondering whether you wrap your head in a towel after
you take a shower.”

Her jaw dropped
open. “Excuse me?”

“You know,
after you shower. Do you wrap your head or do you style it right away?”

She looked at him
closely. “You’re funny.”

“That’s what they
say.”

“Who says?”

“Them.”

“Oh.”

The whistle blew
again, and the game started.

“So . . . do
you?” he persisted.

“Yes,” she said
finally with a mystified laugh. “I wrap my head in a towel.”

He nodded,
satisfied. “I thought so.”

“Did you ever
think about cutting back on the caffeine?”

Miles shook his
head. “Never.”

“You should.”

He took another
drink to hide his pleasure. “I’ve heard that.”

• • •

Forty minutes
later the game was over, and despite Jonah’s best efforts, his team lost, not
that he seemed all that upset about it. After slapping hands with the other players,
Jonah ran toward his father, his friend Mark right behind him.

“You two played
well out there,” Miles assured both boys. 
There was the murmur of distracted thanks from both of them before Jonah
tugged on his dad’s sweater.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Mark asked if I
could spend the night.”

Miles looked at
Mark for confirmation. “He did?”

Mark nodded.
“It’s okay with my mom, but you can talk to her if you want. She’s right over
there. Zach is coming, too.”

“C’mon, Dad.
Please? I’ll do my chores as soon as I get home,” Jonah added.

“I’ll even do
extra.”

Miles hesitated.
It was fine . . . but at the same time, it wasn’t. He liked having Jonah
around. The house was lonely without him. “All right, if you really want to
go—” Jonah smiled excitedly, not waiting for him to finish. “Thanks, Dad.
You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Mr.
Ryan,” Mark said. “C’mon, Jonah. Let’s go tell my mom it’s okay.” They jogged
off, pushing each other and veering through the crowd, laughing the whole way.
Miles turned to Sarah, who was watching them go.  “He looks pretty broken up about the fact he won’t see me
tonight.”

“Absolutely
crushed,” Sarah agreed with a nod.

“We were supposed
to rent a movie together, you know.”

Sarah shrugged.
“It must be terrible to be forgotten so easily.”

Miles laughed. He
was smitten with her, no doubt about it. Really smitten.

“Well, since I’m
alone and all . . .”

“Yes?”

“Well . . . I
mean . . .”

Her eyebrows
lifted and she looked at him slyly. “You want to ask me about the fan again?”

He grinned.
She’d never let him live that down. “If you’re not doing anything,” he said
with an air of feigned confidence.

“What did you
have in mind?”

“Not a game of
pool, that’s for sure.”

Sarah laughed.
“How about if I make you dinner at my place?”

“Tea and cereal?”
he prompted.

She nodded.
“Absolutely. And I promise to wear the towel on my head.”

Miles laughed
again. He didn’t deserve this. He really didn’t.

• • •

“Hey, Dad?”

Miles pushed
his baseball hat a little higher on his head and looked up. They were in the yard,
raking the year’s first fallen leaves.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry
about not renting a movie with you tonight. I forgot until just a little while
ago. Are you mad at me?”

Miles smiled.
“No. I’m not mad at all.”

“Are you going to
rent one anyway?”

Miles shook his
head. “Probably not.”

“Then, what are
you going to do?”

He set the rake
aside, took off his hat, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“Actually, I think I’ll probably see Miss Andrews tonight.” “Again?”

Miles wondered
how much he should say right now. “We had a nice time last night.”

“What did you
do?”

“We had dinner.
Talked. Went for a walk.”

“That’s all?”

“Pretty much.”

“That sounds
boring.”

“I guess you had
to be there.”

Jonah thought
about that for a moment. “Is this a date again?”

“Kind of.”

“Oh.” He nodded
and then looked away. “I guess that means you like her, right?” Miles
approached Jonah, lowering himself until they were eye level. “She and I are
just friends right now, that’s all.”

Jonah seemed to
consider it for a long moment. Miles took him in his arms and hugged him,
squeezing him. “I love you, Jonah,” he said. 
“I love you too, Dad.”

“You’re a good
kid.”

“I know.”

Miles laughed and
stood, reaching for his rake again.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting kind
of hungry.”

“What do you want
to eat?”

“Can we go to
McDonald’s?”

“Sure. We haven’t
gone there in a while.”

“Can I have a
Happy Meal?”

“Don’t you think
you’re getting a little old for that?”

“I’m only seven,
Dad.”

“Oh, that’s
right,” he said as if he’d forgotten. “C’mon, let’s go inside and wash up.”

They started
toward the house, and Miles put his arm around Jonah. After a few steps, Jonah
looked up.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

Jonah walked in
silence for a few steps. “It’s okay if you like Miss Andrews.”

Miles looked down
in surprise. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he said
seriously. “Because I think she likes you.”

• • •

That feeling
only grew stronger the more Miles and Sarah saw of each other.  Throughout October they went on half a dozen
dates, in addition to the times he saw her after school.

They talked for
hours, he took her hand whenever they walked, and though their relationship
hadn’t become physical yet, there was nonetheless a sensual undercurrent to
their conversations that neither could deny. 
A few days before Halloween, after the final soccer game of the season,
Miles asked Sarah if she would like to join him on the ghost walk that night.
It was Mark’s birthday, and Jonah was staying over for the night.  “What’s that?” she asked.

“You get to tour
some of the historic homes and listen to ghost stories.”

“This is what
people do in small towns?”

“We could either
do that or go sit on my porch, chew some tobacco, and play banjos.”

She laughed. “I
think I’ll take the first option.”

“I thought you
might. Pick you up at seven?”

“I’ll be waiting
with bated breath. Dinner at my place afterwards?” “Sounds great. But you know
that if you keep making me dinners, I’m going to get spoiled.”

“That’s okay,”
she said with a wink. “A little spoiling never hurt anyone.”