Detours: Seldom does life turn out the way we expect it to.

By Doris Guggisberg

Adam Wallace thought he had his life all planned out until he couldn't get a job in his field of study after college. Rose Miller's life was drastically changed when a medical mishap put her in a wheelchair in a nursing home. Beth Young, sister to Rose and an employee of Adam, had the perfect suburban life with her husband and three children until she and her husband were in a car accident that changed everything. Samantha and Dwayne had a love that couldn't be. A police investigation, lawyer suppositions, missing persons, embezzlement, and a funeral bring them all together, along with mystery, revenge, inspiration, and romance. Will any of them turn back to God in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888328736

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Detours

Seldom does life turn out the way we expect it to.

Doris Guggisberg

ISBN 979-8-88832-872-9 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88832-873-6 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Doris Guggisberg

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter 1

Adam slammed his whole hand down on the alarm, crashing it to the floor as well. That's the last I have to listen to you! he moaned, as if the alarm clock, its numbers blinking red at him now, should care how he felt about it. He punched the pillow a couple of times and nestled into it as he pulled the covers up over his head. Go away, he said. Can't a guy get any sleep around here?

He was in his dorm room—Baker College, Carly Hall, second floor, Room 210. Seemed like he had always been there, but in reality, it had only been this past year. Now he was about to leave it, graduating tomorrow, in fact.

Four long years of college were gone from under him. Cliché to say so, but it seemed like only yesterday when he was graduating from high school. Four years of counting credits and signing up for classes and moving stuff from one place to another, cafeteria slop, profs who may or may not know you were even there, let alone know you, late-night cramming what you should have been learning all along, or so the Goody Two-shoes harped on you.

But there were fun times too—yeah, good times.

But, hey, you made it, enough to get that sheepskin diploma and certification that you're fit to engage with the general public. So now he had earned a bachelor of science degree in archaeology. He loved digging in the dirt. Figured that would be right up his alley. But the courses they made you take, who needs to know all that? Anyway, Daddy's paying for it, so why not?

He heard voices, and someone was pushing on him. Wake up, you fool! Are you gonna sleep away the most important weekend in your life? That must be Dillon, his roomy.

Why? What time is it?

Time for you to hightail it down to breakfast and out to the parade field for practice. That's what time it is. We're graduating tomorrow! Or did you forget?

Adam groaned and pulled himself upright, ran his fingers through his bedhead hair, and shuffled off to the bathroom. By the time he was done with his shower, he had come alive and was ready to meet the day. Dillon had left already. Adam skipped breakfast and went right to the practice, missing some of the instructions on when to turn left, and which hand to stick out to shake. Oh, well, he'll just watch the others.

* * * * *

The class survived graduation ceremonies. Flowing robes and colored ropes stayed in place. Some graduates had chalked funny or stupid things on the top of their mortar boards. Adam didn't do that. He just wanted to get it over with. Everyone turned left at the right time and shook hands with the right hand. The part about taking a picture as you're walking offstage, still clutching the hand of some dignitary, was awkward, but it all worked out.

Adam's mom and dad were rushing to meet him—Mom with tears glistening in her eyes, and Dad popping his buttons in pride. Parents. Mom was acting like she's losing her little boy, brushing dandruff off his black robe while commenting, I wish you would get a decent haircut, dear.

Dad just seemed glad that he didn't have to pay for another year of college, at least not until Adam's kid sister, Katie, gets there. She was too busy gawking to acknowledge him now. After he got rid of the robe and stuff, they went to a fancy restaurant to celebrate.

So, started his dad, you graduated from college.

Yeah, well, that was the point, right?

Now you can go off into the world. I have one of my associates looking into some possible positions for you.

Dad, you know that's not what I want to do. I want to be an archaeologist. That's all I've ever wanted to do. That's what I've been studying for.

Archaeology, he humphed. What kind of job are you going to get with that? Now what you need is something with a future, stability.

No, Dad, I'm going to look for a job in archaeology, and I've made up my mind. I'm still trying to connect with a team, but I will. Then after a long pause, which made his mother nervous, he said, No use trying to talk me out of it.

Just let me do this for you, said his dad, leaning close and putting his hand on Adam's arm.

Adam pulled away. No, Dad, he said, I want to do what I want to do for a change.

At that point, the food arrived. No one was thinking about food but the elephant in the room: Dad and Adam fighting. They picked at their plates until the waiter brought the check. And each would give anything to have the elephant cleared away with the dishes.

Adam knew what he wanted to do. He thought he knew how to go about it, but nothing came easy. First, he checked with his college counselor to see how to make a connection.

You've already graduated, and now you come? How come you didn't get into an internship while you were still here? Would've been the best thing to do. Now, I don't know. We don't have any summer courses set up for that, and all the positions for internships in the fall are filled.

Adam had a terrible sinking feeling.

But I'll check around and see if another school has an opening. None did.

Okay. So if he couldn't get on an excavating team right away, he'll try for a research assistant. But how do you find that? Help Wanted ads? He didn't really want to do research anyway. He wanted to dig in the dirt.

He did check the newspapers in spite of himself. But the only interview he could get was at a museum, of all places, giving tours about archaeological finds. Boring. He wanted to dig. Truth was, he needed a job. His dad made it perfectly clear that if Adam was going to pursue this—this idiocy—he would have to do it on his own. So there. His mother, on the other hand, slipped him some cash—thousands of dollars in fact—just as he was going out the door, leaving home. It was enough to get an apartment for a month and maybe eat too. Nevertheless, he had to find work that paid now.

This was not working out the way it was supposed to. I have a college degree, he told himself. That's supposed to be my ticket to a high-paying job.

He spent his days reading archaeology periodicals at the public library and his nights worrying about it. He went for the interview at the museum even though it wasn't what he wanted—a nice, cushy job, but it was not digging. He turned it down.

Are you sure? said the nice lady interviewing him. It might open doors to something better later on, she said temptingly. Just give it a try and see.

No, thank you, said Adam. I'll keep looking.

But nobody was hiring. Research grants had dried up. There were no vacancies anywhere, and none expected. And new regulations had put a lot of restrictions on new programs and even existing ones. It was hopeless.

To save money, Adam tried eating just one good meal a day plus lots of ramen noodles and granola bars and walking when he could instead of driving, which wasn't very practical. But at last, he was defeated and took a job as a fry cook at a McDonald's—minimum wage, no benefits, lousy hours. When the first paycheck came in, he was relieved, but part of that had to go for uniform and other work expenses. When the second paycheck came in, he bought himself a TV—not a big one, mind you, but at least something. Eight years later, he was still working there.

* * * * *

Happy birthday, dear! crooned his mother as she swept into his apartment. I can't believe my little boy is thirty years old already!

Mother, said Adam, kissing her on the cheek. How good to see you. Did Dad come too?

Oh, you know how it is, she said, waving her hand in dismissal. Some big company deal he just had to be at. But he sent his love.

No, he didn't, said Adam, calling her bluff. You know better than that.

Well, one can always hope. Awkward pause. So tell me all about her.

About who?

Oh, come on, Adam. Your letter sounded absolutely flowing with excitement and needing Mommy to talk to. Who is this girl?

Mother, there is no girl. I just wanted to let you know that I got a promotion. Better pay, better benefits, better perks. I'm the new store manager at McDonald's. It's a pretty big deal.

Oh, that's nice, dear. But really, Adam, when are you going to settle down and get married? I'm… I mean…you're running out of time. And I sure would like to see some grandchildren. This last part she said with a lilting tone in her voice.

I don't think I'll ever get married, so you should just get used to the idea.

And when are you going to get a real job, Adam? You've been working at McDonald's ever since you graduated from college. I thought you wanted to be an archaeologist.

I did. I do. But that's not the way life turned out. So can we just drop the subject, please? You're beginning to sound like Dad.

Oh. Awkward pause. Let's just enjoy your birthday.

It wasn't that Adam didn't want to get married. He just never thought much about it. His life was going to be one of adventure, travel to exotic lands, discovering ancient artifacts. He didn't care about making money. He would have had all the money he could spend if he would have done it his dad's way, but that was water under the bridge now, no going back.

His mother didn't know this, but a couple of years after graduating, he heard about a team going to India, and they were looking for people to complete their team. He made an application, but with only a bachelor's degree, too many other applicants outranked him, and he lost the opportunity. After that, he didn't try again.

Being thirty years old now, Adam felt like an old man, slouched in his La-Z-Boy recliner with lost opportunities and lost youth. He was on the treadmill of Daily Grind, and that's the way it would be till retirement. He grabbed the remote and channeled up and down, not finding anything he was the least bit interested in.

Chapter 2

It was late in her shift at McDonald's, and Beth was looking forward to going home. She was making a mental note of what groceries she needed to pick up along the way, what the kids had going on for activities after school, and what she was going to make for dinner—maybe a meat loaf tonight. Charlie would like that. He always said he didn't know what it was about her meat loaf, but it was the best he ever tasted. She smiled to herself, glad that he liked her cooking. She was so lucky to have him.

An elderly woman stood back from the counter, gazing at the menu board behind Beth.

Can I help you? Beth offered. No response, but the woman still looked puzzled by the board.

Beth encountered indecisive customers several times an hour. What was so complicated about ordering a burger? She didn't know. Maybe it was the way the board was organized—too much information.

She waited patiently, trying to put herself in the woman's shoes. She probably didn't come into McDonald's very often. Maybe what she was looking for wasn't offered anymore. It could be a number of things, but Beth did wish she would get on with it so she wouldn't be late picking up the kids from school.

Finally, the woman, who must have been in her eighties, approached the counter, her eyes still on the menu board. I'll have…a senior coffee and a chicken sandwich, but not that spicy one. I had that one time, and it burned my mouth.

Is this for here or to go?

I'll eat it here, if I may.

Do you want a meal or just the sandwich?

Uh…just the sandwich please.

Cream?

Pardon?

Do you want cream for your coffee?

Yes.

How many?

How many what, dear?

Creams. Do you want one or two packets of cream?

Oh, silly me. One will do. Thank you.

Thank you. That will be $5.59. Are you paying by credit card or cash?

Cash.

Beth took her ten-dollar bill and counted back the change. You can wait over there, and they'll call your number. Beth thought correctly that it would save time to show her the number on the ticket. Poor lady, she thought, all alone.

Her replacement then stepped up to the counter, and Beth gathered her purse and things to go home. It was then she saw Adam, her supervisor, staring off into the distant past again.

You're looking pretty glum, she said. What's up? Feeling sorry for yourself again?

What's that supposed to mean?

Been thinking about digging in the dirt? I can tell. You get this faraway look like someone is responsible for ruining your life. Are you sure it's not you?

Say, that's not very nice! I was just thinking. That's all. I'm not blaming anybody for my bad luck.

You think?

Hey! Be nice!

"Look, Adam. Do you think anybody else here dreamed about working at McDonald's for the rest of their life? Do you see