A Weekend Getaway (19 page)

Once inside the restaurant, he didn’t want to talk about his
missed opportunity anymore. The smoky, mesquite-tinged air told of frying bacon,
causing his stomach to rumble. A black and white checkered floor and wainscoted
walls surrounded about twenty small tables—half of which were filled with
patrons. Behind a glass pie case, he noticed a chalkboard labeled “Specials.”
Fried chicken and waffles, steak and eggs, BBQ pork sandwiches and fried green
tomatoes. If he stayed here long, his cholesterol would shoot up fifty points.

An African-American woman in jeans and a T-shirt called out from
behind the cash register. “Y’all seat yourself. Menus are on the table.”

He selected a spot by the window, like he always did. He’d
hoped there’d be more sunshine this far south, but winter had a far-reaching
grasp. Picking up one of the laminated menus, he noticed Beth ogling another
diner’s food rather than reading the offerings.

She pointed at a waffle topped with strawberries and whipped
cream being devoured by a heavy-set man in overalls at the next table. “That
looks sinful.”

The waitress shuffled over to them. Even though she looked
too old to have a job where she was on her feet all day, she offered them a
friendly grin. “My name’s Della. What’ll y’all have?”

He gestured toward Beth. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll take a bowl of oatmeal please.”

Della shifted her weight. “I’m afraid we don’t have oatmeal.
I could bring you some grits, though.”

“What are grits?”

“They’re kind of like cream of wheat but made with corn.”

Tilting her head, Beth seemed to consider this. “Do you put
butter in them?”

“Only if you want ‘
em
to taste
good.” Della grinned.

“I’ll try them plain with a cup of coffee, black.”

He shook his head and looked at Della. “What she meant to
say was she wants the strawberry waffle.”

Beth picked up the menu that she hadn’t bothered to look at and
placed it in the holder above the salt and pepper shakers. “What I want and what
I should eat are two very different things. That’s why I didn’t dare to look at
all of the temptations I know they probably have here.”

Della’s eyes danced from his face to Beth’s. “Tell me about
it, girl. A minute on the lips. . .” She slapped her side. “
forevah
on the hips.”

He raised his finger to Beth. “It’s my treat and I insist
you get the waffle. If you want to order grits, too, that’s fine. Personally, I
never miss the opportunity to dine on biscuits and gravy while I’m south of the
Mason-Dixon line. I hope we’re not being too difficult, Della.”

The waitress pretended to write on an invisible notepad. “No
problem. Waffles, grits, biscuits and gravy. Got it.” They all laughed as she
sauntered back to the kitchen. A moment later, she returned to pour coffee into
their mugs.

While they waited for their meal, their conversation focused
on the ordinary—the local businesses visible through the window, the
waitress’ homey accent, and the diner’s antique tin ceiling. He liked the
casual, mundane nature of these topics. Last night he and Beth had become too
close. He wasn’t ready to let go of his anger. He needed to rebuild that wall
between them.

Ten minutes later, when Della delivered their meals, Parker
didn’t even pick up his fork. Instead, he watched Beth take one bite of the yellow,
mushy grits before pushing them aside. She cut a little square of golden dough,
then created a kebob with a strawberry, waffle and another berry, dipped in
cream. Slowly she slid them between her lips. She closed her eyes and moaned.

He imagined the sweetness bursting against his own taste
buds and almost regretted his selection. To reassure himself, he cut off a
chunk of biscuit and swirled it in extra gravy. “Aren’t you glad I made you
order the waffle?”

“I can’t answer that. Don’t you know it’s rude to talk with
your mouth full?” Smiling, she took another bite. He followed suit and enjoyed
the salty, sausage gravy coating his tongue. Delicious.

This is what he would do from now on. Force people to
indulge themselves, admit what they really want and go after it. Especially
since it was too late for him.

After breakfast, he left a generous tip for Della because
she’d made the experience extra special and because those were the only kind of
tips he’d ever leave again. He and Beth returned to his vehicle and he drove
the narrow road back toward the highway. He did his best Willie Nelson
impersonation and sang “On the Road Again.”

Beth joined in. Pretty soon they realized they didn’t know
the words beyond the chorus. They mumbled and hummed their way back to the
famous lines. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun on a
road trip.

His cell phone rang. He stopped singing and looked down to
grab it.

Thud!

He’d hit something with his vehicle. Beth gasped so loud, it
sounded like a cry. The phone kept ringing as he pulled over to the side of the
road.

Ignoring the incessant ringing, he twisted his head to see.
“Do you know what I hit?”

“It happened so quick. It seemed big, like a raccoon or a. .
. .”

“Dog.” He saw it then. A brown and black lump lay across the
yellow center line. Parker sprang from his vehicle and the cold wind shocked
his cheeks. He ran toward the animal, hoping it was alive.

He heard Beth’s door slam shut, but he didn’t take his eyes
off of the German shepherd. Parker crouched down near its head. The dog’s
glassy eyes blinked.

Parker’s heart started beating again. He surveyed the
damage, but didn’t see much blood. Beth arrived at his side. “Aw, poor thing.”
She petted it with her gloved hand.

Noticing a cracked leather collar, he checked for tags.
There were none. “Well, he must belong to someone or he wouldn’t have a
collar.” The dog lifted its head, but put it back down. “Shit. I can’t leave
him here like this. He’s obviously too hurt to go home.”

“There’s a house.” She pointed across an old Civil War cemetery
toward a two-story farmhouse. “Let’s put him in the car and drive over there.”

Parker looked at her. A few stray snowflakes clung to her
eyelashes and compassion lined her face. He remembered once when Ivy had hit a
cat. She’d driven away, saying people should keep their pets inside if they
cared about them. But Parker couldn’t blame this on anyone but himself. “I
shouldn’t have reached for my damn cell phone.”

Beth didn’t say anything in response to that. “Do you want
me to help pick him up?”

Shaking his head, he pulled off his glove so the dog could
sniff his hand. Ever so gently, he scooped the animal into his arms and headed
toward his vehicle. Beth opened the back door and Parker placed the German
shepherd on the seat. “Don’t worry, boy. We’ll take you home.” He removed his
coat and placed it on top like a blanket.

Since he didn’t want to cause the dog any more pain, Parker
drove slowly up the gravel driveway to the house. Leaving Beth and the dog in
the SUV, he rang the doorbell. He shuffled his feet on the Welcome mat and blew
warm air onto his hands. No answer. He rang again and knocked. When the door
remained shut, he glanced at Beth and shrugged.

He returned to the vehicle. “No one’s home.”

Her gaze landed on the injured dog in the backseat. “Let’s
drive a little more and knock on doors. Maybe someone will recognize him.”

Even though time was tight, it was the right thing to do.
They enacted their plan, taking turns getting out and knocking on doors.
Apparently, everyone was at work. He cracked his knuckles. “I don’t know what
to do.”

“Let’s find a vet. They can fix him up and try to alert the
owner.”

“Okay.” They headed back to the diner where they asked Della
about the nearest animal clinic. Within fifteen minutes, they arrived. He
carried the whimpering dog into the vet’s office. “This is an emergency. I hit
this dog with my SUV. Where should I put him?” A young woman wearing turquoise scrubs
rushed forward and led him into a nearby examining room. He gently placed the
dog on the table. “Where’s the vet?”

“She’ll be here in a minute.”

Walking back to the waiting area, he could hear dogs barking
from another room and a meowing cat in a pet carrier on the floor. The sounds
of healthy pets gnawed at him. The German shepherd didn’t have the energy to
bark any more.

He handed the rosy-cheeked receptionist his credit card.
“I’ll pay all of the bills—no matter what the cost.” He circled his cell
phone number on his Mall Land business card and pushed it toward her. “I don’t
know who the dog belongs to and I’m afraid I can’t stay. Please keep me posted
on how he’s doing. I feel just terrible.”

He and Beth returned to the vehicle but he didn’t turn the
key in the ignition. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

“I’ve never met a vet that didn’t give one-hundred and ten
percent.”

He could tell she was trying to make him feel better. “What
if he has internal injuries?”

She shrugged. “Hopefully not.”

His cell phone started ringing and he hesitated before
answering it. It was his vice-president. Parker interrupted him. “Listen, I
need you to handle everything for the next few days. I’m unavailable.” He hung
up. His shoulder muscles loosened a little. “That felt good. Maybe my business
will go bankrupt, but who cares?” Secretly he did, but he needed to let go. He
wasn’t going to be able to make all of the decisions for much longer. He wasn’t
going to be doing anything for much longer.

“Your business will be fine,” Beth offered.

“If I hadn’t answered my damn phone, I wouldn’t have hit
that dog.”

He could see kindness in her eyes as she spoke. “Maybe,
maybe not. He came out of nowhere.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to say
this, but we’d better get going if we hope to make it there in time for Hannah’s
show.”

He turned on his navigation system and followed its
instructions, heading toward I-55 South. Even though he’d need to switch to
I-40 soon, he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t stop thinking about the German
shepherd and its whimper. Would he ever bark again? What was his name? Would
his owners find him? “It’s so hard to leave not knowing how things are going to
turn out.”

“You just have to believe that he’s in good hands.”

“Is that how you did it? I mean, was it hard to leave the
baby?”

She flinched. “Of course it was hard.” Her voice was sharp,
defensive. “I carried her inside of me for nine months. Everything I did
revolved around her. I ate lots of salads and I hate lettuce, I stopped
drinking caffeine and alcohol, I suffered through headaches and stomachaches
and colds without taking any medicine.”

Why had he asked her that? What a dumb question. And yet he
wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything that he’d missed. “If you
don’t want to answer me, I respect that.” He let those words settle around them
as he drove toward the highway entrance ramp.

She crossed her arms and faced him. “What?”

“What was it like for you? I just found out I have a child,
but you’ve known for sixteen years that she was out there somewhere.”

“It’s like there’s a hole inside of me that nothing can ever
fill.” Her pitch rose as if she might cry. “I tried not to think about her. But
no matter how hard I worked or even when I fell in love, I never felt
complete.” She sniffed and looked out the side window, obscuring her face from
his view. “Maybe that’s why lately I wanted to have a baby so badly. To see if
that made me feel better about giving away my firstborn. But I’ll never feel
good about it.”

He was glad to hear how it tore her up. Because now he felt
an overwhelming loss, too. If she’d moved on and forgotten about their baby,
he’d think less of her. That was the kind of thing Ivy could do. Focus on her
own happiness, never feel remorse for anything. She claimed it was Parker’s
fault she’d never finished college and that she’d had a miscarriage. She
probably blamed him for the fact that she’d slept with another man.

“You have to believe me, Parker. Giving that baby up was the
hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s not like you and I were going to get married
and play house. I was so young. I didn’t want to drop out of school and work a
minimum wage job for the rest of my life. I hate myself for getting into that
situation in the first place.”

“It wasn’t all your fault. I should’ve worn a condom.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was almost a whisper. She remained quiet
for a while. “The nurse told me I probably shouldn’t hold the baby or I might
not be strong enough to go through with it. But I did. I held her. All seven
pounds and two ounces of her. She had pudgy cheeks and a tiny nose and the
softest cry. She was so beautiful.”

“How long did you get to be with her
before.
. . ?”

“Two days. I even insisted she stay in the room at night
instead of going to the nursery. My last day in the hospital, I signed the
papers, kissed her forehead and handed her over.” Again, her voice sounded
squeaky.

“Did you get a picture?”

She shook her head. “No. But I studied her face to burn the
image into my memory. And I kept her little hospital
i.d.
bracelet.”

“Did you stay in touch after the adoption?”

“No. Maybe I should have.” Her facial expression tightened
as if wrestling with her memories. “I still beat myself up over her quiet,
delicate cry. Did she know I was going to leave her? Is that why she cried so
softly—as if to say ‘I won’t be any trouble’?” Chewing on her thumbnail,
she stared out the window. “Now it’s like she went from newborn to sixteen in
an instant.”

“I hate that I missed out on all of those years.” It was
Beth’s fault, but she clearly didn’t do it to be mean. She’d felt abandoned and
that was because of him. He’d slept with her, got her pregnant and left her
nothing but a note. “We both missed out.”