A Bend in the Road Read Free

She’d said as much to him more than once—like most
couples, they’d played the “what if” game, and though neither of them had ever
expected anything terrible to happen, both had been in agreement that it
wouldn’t be right for Jonah to grow up with only a single parent. It wouldn’t
be right for the surviving spouse. Still, it seemed a little too soon.
    As the summer
wore on, the thoughts about finding someone new began to surface more
frequently and with more intensity. Missy was still there, Missy would always
be there . . . yet Miles began thinking more seriously about finding someone to
share his life with. Late at night, while comforting Jonah in the rocking chair
out back—it was the only thing that seemed to help with the nightmares—these
thoughts seemed strongest and always followed the same pattern.  Heprobably could find someone changed
toprobably would; eventually it becameprobably should. At this point,
however—no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise—his thoughts still
reverted back toprobably won’t.  The
reason was in his bedroom.
    On his shelf,
in a bulging manila envelope, sat the file concerning Missy’s death, the one
he’d made for himself in the months following her funeral. He kept it with him
so he wouldn’t forget what happened, he kept it to remind him of the work he
still had to do.
    He kept it to
remind him of his failure.
    • • •
    A few minutes
later, after stubbing out the cigarette on the railing and heading inside,
Miles poured the coffee he needed and headed down the hall. Jonah was still
asleep when he pushed open the door and peeked in. Good, he still had a little
time. He headed to the bathroom.
    After he turned
the faucet, the shower groaned and hissed for a moment before the water finally
came. He showered and shaved and brushed his teeth. He ran a comb through his
hair, noticing again that there seemed to be less of it now than there used to
be. He hurriedly donned his sheriff’s uniform; next he took down his holster
from the lockbox above the bedroom door and put that on as well. From the
hallway, he heard Jonah rustling in his room. This time, Jonah looked up with
puffy eyes as soon as Miles came in to check on him. He was still sitting in
bed, his hair disheveled. He hadn’t been awake for more than a few minutes.
    Miles smiled.
“Good morning, champ.”
    Jonah looked up
from his bed, almost as if in slow motion. “Hey, Dad.”
    “You ready for
some breakfast?”
    He stretched his
arms out to the side, groaning slightly. “Can I have pancakes?”
    “How about some
waffles instead? We’re running a little late.”
    Jonah bent over
and grabbed his pants. Miles had laid them out the night before.
    “You say that every
morning.”
    Miles shrugged.
“You’re late every morning.”
    “Then wake me up
sooner.”
    “I have a better
idea—why don’t you go to sleep when I tell you to?”
    “I’m not tired
then. I’m only tired in the mornings.”
    “Join the club.”
    “Huh?”
    “Never mind,”
Miles answered. He pointed to the bathroom. “Don’t forget to brush your hair
after you get dressed.”
    “I won’t,”
Jonah said.
    Most mornings
followed the same routine. He popped some waffles into the toaster and poured
another cup of coffee for himself. By the time Jonah had dressed himself and
made it to the kitchen, his waffle was waiting on his plate, a glass of milk
beside it. Miles had already spread the butter, but Jonah liked to add the
syrup himself. Miles started in on his own waffle, and for a minute, neither of
them said anything. Jonah still looked as if he were in his own little world,
and though Miles needed to talk to him, he wanted him to at least seem
coherent.  After a few minutes of
companionable silence, Miles finally cleared his throat.
    “So, how’s school
going?” he asked.
    Jonah shrugged.
“Fine, I guess.”
    This question
too, was part of the routine. Miles always asked how school was going; Jonah
always