Find Wonder In All Things

by Karen M Cox

  “You’d never know she just had a baby six weeks ago.” James offered generously, giving his friend another opportunity to brag on his wife.

  “She’s amazing, that’s for sure.” Eric’s chest swelled with pride. “So, buddy, what are you doing standing here all by your lonesome? I know you can swing dance — better than John anyway.”

  “Just hanging back and watching the crowd.”

  “Watching or scoping?”

  “Maybe a little of both.” James smirked.

  “I thought you were going to bring Monica tonight.”

  “We broke up.”

  “Oh, geez, James, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” James didn’t sound particularly sorry.

  “Well, there are plenty of women here tonight. Take your pick — brunette, blonde, redhead. You could probably have all three at once if you put your mind to it, you handsome sonofabitch. You know, I hate you for that.”

  James grinned as he popped an hors d’oeuvre in his mouth.

  “That is, I hated it before I caught Millie. Hey, come into the bar with me for a sec. I need a manly beer to counteract all this girly champagne.

  The men took two empty barstools and ordered a couple of Sam Adams and a club soda for Millie.

  “So — spill. What happened with you and Monica?”

  James shrugged. “Nothing to spill, really. She wanted to take the relationship to the next level. I didn’t. So she walked.”

  Eric held his friend with a steady gaze. “James Marshall, the perpetual bachelor.”

  “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s too bad about Monica. Millie and I really liked her.”

  “She’s a great gal.”

  “Beautiful, smart . . . ”

  “Best attorney in town.”

  “Who was the one before her, was it Tracy?”

  James shook his head. “Stacy.”

  “That’s right. The cellist with the San Francisco symphony.”

  “Yep.”

  “And before that was Christine.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Napa Valley vintner.”

  “Divorced twice, and I can see why.” James shuddered. “Ba-a-a-ad temper.” He paused. “Your point is . . . ?”

  “You, my man,” Eric pointed his beer bottle at James, “are too picky.”

  James shrugged. “Can we talk about something besides my love life?”

  “You should start thinking about settling down.”

  “Spoken like a happily married man with a kid. Alas, mon frère, there just aren’t that many Millies out there in the world.”

  Eric grinned. “She’s one of kind. But there are plenty of good women, James. Look at John and Fiona.”

  “Not that many Fionas out there either.”

  “I can’t believe John. After waiting all this time, he popped the question on Christmas Eve.”

  “Said he had to make something of himself first so he would deserve her.”

  “As if she cared anything about his money or the rest of it.”

  “Well, it mattered to him I guess.”

  “They’ll have the rest of their lives to enjoy it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Eric took a pull off his beer. “You ever think about tying the knot? Getting married?”

  “Who me? Perpetual bachelor, remember? I’m a child of divorce, and I have commitment phobia — or so I’ve been told by many well-meaning women.”

  “No one even came close?”

  James knew Eric was pumping him for information. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so either. It all started a few months earlier when Eric spied the charcoal drawing in his office and asked about it. He told him it was drawn by a childhood friend. Then, when he was moving from his apartment to the townhouse, Millie teased him about the girly flower painting in his room. She had stared at him, puzzled, when he told her it was just some wildflower that reminded him of home, so he moved it with him wherever he went. Then there was the time they asked him about that little melody he was always playing on his guitar. He managed to avoid answering that one and tried not to play it in front of them anymore. Unfortunately, he fiddled around with the melody so often that sometimes he didn’t even realize he was strumming it.

  Apparently, Eric had been taking nosy lessons from his wife. On another night, James might even have resented it, but he had enough champagne in him to loosen his tongue and stave off any ill feelings toward his inquisitive friend. Besides, he’d been thinking along those lines himself since his breakup with Monica, and the answer to Eric’s question just sort of tumbled out of his alcohol-numbed brain.

  “There was one girl, back East, years ago. Man, I was sprung on her. Guess I was young and stupid. If I’d had my way, I’d have married her in a heartbeat. Probably been divorced by now too.”

  “What was her name?”

  James smirked. “Get a load of this one — Mountain Laurel.”

  “You’re joking.”

  James shook his head, laughing. “No, that was really her name — Mountain Laurel Elliot. Her father was an aging hippie from the Sixties.”

  “Where’d you meet her?”

  “Southern Kentucky. I worked down there one summer bussing tables at her father’s restaurant when I was in college.”

  “First love, eh?”

  “She wasn’t my first that way.” He paused. “But she was my first here.” He touched his beer bottle to his chest and looked away.

  “Ah. What happened?”

  James smirked. “I wanted to take the relationship to the next level; she didn’t. So I walked.”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Water under the bridge, my bro.”

  “What does she do now?”

  “I haven’t got a clue. She was studying art. I’ll bet she’s got a husband and 2.3 kids and a minivan somewhere in suburbia.” James downed the rest of his beer. “Come on, enough sentimental bullshit, let’s go take your wife her club soda and join the party.”

  He walked unsteadily into the dance hall to an old pop tune about 1999. He laughed as a pretty party-guest grabbed both his hands and did a little shimmy against him. Then he tossed his friend a wink and led the woman to the dance floor.

  * * *

  James groaned and rolled over to swipe at his alarm clock, but even after repeated hits, the noise went on. He realized it was the phone ringing and swiped at it, knocking it off the stand before he was able to grab it and push the talk button.

  “Yeah?”

  “Good morning, slacker. It’s almost noon.”

  “Jesus, Eric . . . ”

  “No it’s just plain Eric. Get up and get some coffee. I’ll be over in an hour, and we’ll take a run.”

  The phone clicked, and James swore.

  He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt. He remembered his running shoes were still downstairs, so he grabbed some socks and slowly descended, yawning widely.

  While the coffee was brewing, he stepped out on the front stoop to grab the paper. The new neighbor across the street opened her door at almost the same moment.

  “Good morning!” she called, waving to him.

  “Good morning,” he replied. She looked like she was about to come out and start a conversation, so he turned and went back in without delay. She was nice enough — recently divorced, kind of attractive — but the last thing he needed right then was woman trouble.

  Maybe it was time to move on, head off somewhere else. Seattle, maybe? Or Phoenix? Somewhere back East perhaps. No, he had cut his final ties there and become a permanent West Coast man five years earlier. Going back to school was a smart move, probably the best decision he ever made once he knew what he wanted to study. California had the added bonus of being closer to Susan and Gary who had been so good to him since he’d left home for keeps. Because of his estrangement from his parents, they were the only family he had left . . . well, them plus Eric and Millie,
and John and Fiona. They were some of the best friends he’d ever had, and they were family to him too. Sometimes he missed Stuart, his best friend from childhood, but even before he left Tennessee, they hadn’t been together much anyway. Maybe it was inevitable — what life did to their friendship, how it pulled them apart — but a lot of that probably had to do with who Stuart married.

  Stu and Ginny wanted him to be an usher at their wedding, but the idea of meeting up with Laurel Elliot again, even two years after their breakup, was extremely unappealing to him. He didn’t think he could contain his anger if he saw her again, and what good would that do any of them? The die had been cast. So, he begged off groomsman’s duties, giving Stuart some lame excuse about finals’ week. He didn’t even attend as a guest.

  James ambled into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and headed into his study. On the antique secretary desk rested the charcoal sketch that Eric had commented on. Why do I keep that thing around? He stepped over and picked it up, holding it over the trash can in a moment of indecision. There had been several moments like this over the years. His heart gave the familiar momentary squeeze when he thought of Laurel— her long, jeans-clad legs, flaming red hair in a braid down her back, brilliant dark blue eyes, her amazing smile. But as always, the recurring anger quickly covered the fond memories. Sentimental rubbish, Marshall. You only think about her because you couldn’t have her. Maybe she wasn’t what you wanted anyway. One thing was painfully obvious though: she sure as hell didn’t want you.

  Like a speeding car spinning out of control, the memory of the last time he saw her roared into his mind. Could it really have been all those years ago? Sometimes it still pissed him off as if it had just happened last week . . .

  * * *

  He turned into the familiar, gravel drive and began the long trek up to Laurel’s little cabin. She had done some work on it since she’d been home from college. There was a new coat of paint on the outside, and shutters now adorned the windows. He felt the draw of the place, the draw of her, and the rapid pace of his heart began to slow. It was like the whole world slowed down when he was there. He hoped she was home, but in this, as in so many other things that day, he was disappointed.

  He found her in her father’s little office at the marina, working on a ledger of some sort. He walked in without knocking and shut the door behind him.

  She looked up, blue eyes wide in momentary shock at the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin.

  “James?”

  “Hello, sweetheart.” He leaned over the table and kissed her, but it was a business-like peck on the lips rather than the all-consuming kiss that was inside him waiting to be unleashed.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I wrote you I was coming. Did I beat the letter here? I really wish you’d get a phone up at the cabin.”

  “No, I got it — the letter, I mean. I just . . . ” She looked out the window. “I just hoped you’d think better of it and not come after all.”

  “How could I not come? First of all, I find it impossible to believe that you would dump me through the mail without even the courtesy of a face-to-face discussion. You don’t have a callous bone in your body, so I assume that somebody got to you. Is it your father? Your mother? What have they said to convince you that we shouldn’t be together? Tell me, so I can refute it and relieve your mind.”

  “James, it isn’t just what they said. It’s the whole situation.”

  “I promise you, we can make this work. I can do anything if you’re beside me. I’ve been composing a ton of songs the past few months. They just keep rolling off my fingers, and I’ve gotten more jobs as a studio musician too. I’m learning about recording and mixing music from other musicians. Yeah, I’m not going to college, but I know that all this experience is going to pay off in the end. It won’t be a hand-to-mouth existence forever. Tell your parents that if they’re worried about it.”

  “I don’t care about living on a shoestring, but you’ll be at work all day and out at clubs all night, and I’ll be alone in a strange city.”

  “So you’ll come with me to the clubs. Look, I know you. You’re not some kind of pampered princess, Laurel. You can roll with the ups and downs of being with a musician, and I’m not worried about you taking on any challenge we face. I’ve seen you handle everything life has thrown your way. You’ve never backed off from what you want, and after everything we’ve meant to each other, I can’t believe breaking up is what you want. Don’t run away from this — from us. We’re meant to be together.”

  She was near tears. “Please don’t say these things. It just makes it worse . . . ”

  “I need you, and I love you, and that’s why I drove all this way to talk some sense into you!” He paced back and forth in the little office and stopped in front of her, holding out his hand. “Come for a drive with me so we can talk.”

  Her expression was hidden, wary. It unsettled him the way she retreated behind that frozen façade. It looked too much like her mother’s face; the lack of animation made her look like a mannequin. Her eyes darted to the office window, and he followed her gaze to see her father looking in on them with an unusually stern expression. What a time for the man finally to act paternal!

  “We’ll go to our little clearing by the lake.” His heart beat faster just thinking about the idea of being alone with her. “We’ll have some privacy there.”

  Her eyes blazed dark blue for a brief moment, and then the cold, blank stare was back. She looked down at the papers on her desk.

  “We can talk here, although there isn’t much else to say. I can’t move to Nashville with you.”

  “Yes, you can. You just won’t — and I’m here to find out why.”

  The blank stare was gone, finally, but her crestfallen expression was sad in a way he’d never seen before. “It’s impossible. I can’t leave school.”

  “But you can! I’ve told you; there are other schools — good schools — around Nashville.”

  “Not where I have work-study already lined up. Not schools that I can afford. My parents have no money for college, James. This is my only chance to get an education.”

  “People make their own chances. There’s always another way if you want something badly enough.”

  She sighed. “Not for me.”

  Anger boiled up inside him at the defeated tone in her voice. “Those are your mother’s words. What on Earth did she say to you?”

  “The truth,” she said sullenly.

  “Oh, really! And what is the truth according to the Hermit on the Hill?”

  “That leaving school now would be a terrible mistake — that this whole plan is crazy — and I won’t let you provoke me about my mother. This isn’t about her.”

  “Bullshit!” he hissed. “This is all about her and him.” He gestured toward her father, still watching through the glass. “When is it going to be about you, Laurel? Sometimes you have to stand up for what you want!”

  “I can’t . . . ” she whispered. “I’m not like you. I can’t just pick up and leave everything I’ve ever known without a second thought. Why can’t you understand that?”

  He decided to change tactics. Something inside him screamed that this was one of the big Crossroads of life — with a capital C — for both of them. He had to change her mind or at least make her see what she was giving up. He gentled his voice and tried again. “I know it’s a big step, darling, but it will work — I know it.” He sat on the desk and covered her hand with his, trying to intertwine their fingers.

  “I know you believe that, but it’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it — ”

  “No,” she interrupted him, “it’s not.” She jerked her hand back and folded her arms protectively across her chest. “Have you considered that me tagging along is not in your best interest either?”

  “How can you say that? How could being without you ever be in my best interest? I love you. What could be more important than that? And you love me.”

>   She said nothing.

  “Don’t you?”

  Her face was frozen in place. An icy cold wind whipped around his heart in spite of the hot, July day. He waited a long minute. “I see.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “Yes, I see now. Apparently, I’ve made a huge mistake coming here. In fact, I’ve made a complete ass of myself.” He shot her a withering look and turned his back on her as he put his hand on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder. “But you’ve made a mistake too, Laurel Elliot,” he said darkly, “and you’ll regret it. I promise you that.” He threw open the door and strode out.

  Mr. Elliot followed him outside to the dock and called after him. “What did you say to my daughter, Marshall? She looks upset.”

  James turned around, anger radiating from every pore in his skin. “You’re killing her spirit, you know, persuading her to stay here so she can be near you. It’s pure selfishness on your part. You’re keeping an exotic bird in a cage and expecting it to stay beautiful and brilliant. I’m telling you, it won’t work. She’ll end up a shadow of what she could have been. Sir.” The last word was smothered in sarcasm.

  “And I suppose you’re the one who can save her from a horrible fate out here in the sticks,” Mr. Elliot said, his face contorted in anger. “I know your type. You’re a materialistic hothead, and you’d be the ruin of her. You’re all big plans and dreams, but you’re doing nothing but working a day job at a bottling plant. Go out and find your life, such as it is. Leave my daughter alone to find hers. She’s made her decision.”

  “She made that perfectly clear. Good-bye, Mr. Elliot. Rest assured you won’t see me around here ever again.”

  After that, James hardly knew how he made it to his car. He barely remembered any of the drive back to Nashville, except for thinking that then he knew what a broken heart felt like.

  * * *

  After Laurel cut him loose, he coped by forcing himself to think only of the future, and it had been effective. He threw himself into learning more about music. He went to college in California. Now, more than seven years later, James had constructed a new life for himself. A life that had taken twists and turns he never expected. He had embarked on more than one new adventure, striking out on his own time and again, and he had done well — succeeding beyond his wildest dreams — and Laurel had missed out on all of it.