by Karen M Cox
“I know you’re upset, but I’m a grown woman now, and I want to make a life for myself. And if I can have it, I want a life with James — more than anything.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, Mountain Laurel, you misunderstand me. I know I was adamant about you not going with that boy and moving far from home, but that was then and this is now.
“You see, when I said those things all those years ago, I wanted to keep you from being trapped in a life you didn’t want, like I was.”
“I know, but — ”
“It’s a cruel irony that because you followed my advice, you ended up trapped anyway, except, instead of being up on a mountain with a husband and a bunch of children to love, because of me you were up there all alone.”
“Oh Mama,” Laurel said in dismay.
Mrs. Elliot’s eyes filled. “I never thought you’d be alone. You were so pretty. You had so much spunk and life. I thought some nice, steady man would see that and love you for it. I thought I was telling you right, I really did. I was afraid you would end up like me if you left, but I realized too late that it wasn’t my circumstances that trapped me. I was the one who trapped myself. It’s too late to change anything now, but I think — I’ve thought for a few years now — that maybe I made a mistake persuading you to stay. But it was too late . . . too late . . . ”
Mrs. Elliot was slipping back into herself, but Laurel had to try and make her understand. There were so many things about her mother that she couldn’t control, so forgiveness was the best Laurel could offer to the woman who gave her life. She reached out and grasped her mother’s hand. “Mama, listen. I’ve thought a lot about this over the years — about whether I made a mistake all those years ago. And do you know what I’ve determined?”
“What?”
“I’ve determined that I’ll never know the answer to that question, and I have to accept that. If I had gone with James the first time he asked me, there’s no guarantee that things would have turned out well. Maybe they would have. I’d like to think that we were meant for each other and would have found a way to make a good life together no matter the circumstances, but I know in my heart of hearts that timing might have played a much bigger role in this than I could ever have imagined, for both of us.”
Her mother looked at her and waited for her to continue.
“Ideally, people meet someone they can love all their lives at a time when they’re ready to make that commitment — like James’s sister Susan and her husband did. Sometimes that someone has been there all along, and then one day both people wake up and realize that they want to be together — like Stuart and Virginia. But sometimes, I think there must be a mismatch between finding the person you love and the time in your life when you find him, and I think that’s what happened with James and me. We both made mistakes. If he had been more patient, or if I had been less scared, we might have been able to work around that mismatch all those years ago. But then, he wouldn’t be who he is now, and I wouldn’t be who I am. And now I think we can be really happy together, so how can I argue with that?”
Mrs. Elliot gave her daughter a thin, watery smile. Laurel kissed her cheek.
“You know Daddy’s favorite saying — Find wonder in all things, no matter how pedestrian? I used to think that meant we should notice and celebrate even the smallest details of our lives, but now I see it another way. Now, I believe it means that all those ordinary things are wonderful — even the sad ones and the mistakes — because, no matter how we perceive them at the time, they all come together and serve a purpose in the end. Life is an intricate, magnificent orchestra, and each event — big and small — has a part in it. We have to listen for opportunities to be happy. But it isn’t enough just to listen, we also have to seize them when they present themselves, and it’s time for me to do that now.
“I don’t blame you, Mama, for these years that I was without James. I don’t blame him, and I don’t blame myself. I know I had to learn to reach for happiness. At eighteen, I wasn’t wise enough to discern that, but now I am wiser, and now I choose out of strength and love — not out of fear of the unknown. Now I have a chance at the life I might never have had otherwise. Do you understand at all?”
Mrs. Elliot smiled a sad smile. “I think so, but mostly, I’m just grateful that you forgive me. Perhaps my life wasn’t a complete failure after all if I have a wise, strong daughter like you.”
Laurel reached over and hugged her mother. “I don’t pretend to understand what it is you go through day after day, but Mama, I really do believe that no life is a failure.”
Her mother drew back, a flat look descending like a curtain over her face. “I’m so discombobulated today. Maybe I’m just tired. I guess I should rest a little more.” And in the span of a moment, her mother’s spirit was gone, buried beneath the years of chronic depression from which Laurel wasn’t sure she would ever emerge.
Chapter 26
Laurel drove into town to see Virginia and Stuart the next evening. She had thought long and hard about it all the way home from Asheville and decided it was time to approach James herself. He had come to her twice now, once to the lake and once to her art show, and that had to mean something. Besides, it was getting annoying — the way he appeared out of the blue and then ran off just as suddenly, leaving her confused and without an easy way to find him again. This time, it should be fairly simple: Stuart, as James’s old friend, might know how to reach him. If not, Susan and Gary, or John Benwick would know his whereabouts, and she had resolved to go against her reticent nature and hunt him down. What she would do when she found him, she had no idea. The thought made her quake in her boots, but she pushed her anxieties down deep. This time, she would reach for happiness with both hands and hold on tight. This was her moment of truth, and she must somehow gather her courage and her faith and navigate her way through.
That newfound determination faltered, however, when she saw a minivan rental in Stuart and Virginia’s driveway. How could she quiz Ginny and Stu about James if they had company? And who could it be?
Unwilling to give up once she had set her mind to it, Laurel squared her shoulders and knocked. She opened the door part way and called out, “Hello?”
Virginia’s voice came from the other room. “Come in, Sis. Guess who’s here?”
Laurel walked into the living area, and enthusiastic greetings assaulted her from all sides. Millie rushed her and gave her an exuberant hug.
“Laurel! Surprised to see us?” She giggled. “We’re just passing through for a couple of days — wanted to see some fall color and check in on John of course. So I sent Ginny an email, and here we are! Looks like we’re all descending on you again, ’cause John said James is here too — visiting his sister.”
Laurel’s heart fluttered in her chest. Her task of finding James had just gotten that much easier. He was already close by.
“We were getting ready to head out to The Loft for local talent night. Stuart says it’s the best gig around these parts,” Eric replied as he picked up his jacket. “You wanna go with us?”
“I called Dylan and Crosby,” Stuart added. “They’re going to meet us there.”
Ginny was already showing Millie into the guest room where she could set up Trevor’s port-a-crib, so she wouldn’t be available for a chat that evening.
“Um . . . sure, I guess.”
“You can leave your car here, Sis,” Stu offered, “and make us look good when we escort you into le Loft.” He grinned and held open the door.
* * *
When Laurel walked into The Loft a few minutes later, her heart stopped.
James — her James — was sitting at a bar table, smiling while he conversed with his sister, Susan, and her husband. He looked up when he saw Stuart and Eric enter and lifted a hand in greeting, but stopped stone cold when Laurel walked in behind them. He quickly rearranged his face into an expression of careful neutrality.
Gary waved them over to join the group, barstools were pulle
d up all around, and Stu ordered some drinks for the three newcomers.
Eric slid his stool close to Susan’s, and Laurel boldly hopped into the seat next to James, greeting him with a warm smile despite her inner jitters. How on Earth am I supposed to talk to him with all these people around? What do I say to him?
Eric handed her a soda bottle. “Well, here we all are again — out in the boondocks.”
She smiled. “Yes, here we are.”
“It’s good to see you all again. Millie loves this place — and the people in it. I think we all do.” He leaned forward and looked across her at his friend. “Don’t we, James?”
“Hmm?” James looked startled, pulled his bottle away from his lips and swallowed. “Oh . . . yeah.”
Eric’s smile faded a little bit. “John does too apparently. It looks like he’ll be staying around these parts for a while. I guess he’s pretty much over Fiona. Did you hear that Heather’s moving in with him?”
“I did,” she answered.
“I was surprised, weren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s surprising I suppose, but I hope they can make it work.” Laurel was trying to be diplomatic.
“Oh, I do too.” He looked down at his hand holding the soda bottle. “Yeah, I do. It’s just kinda sad, you know? Fiona was devoted to John — absolutely nuts about him.”
Laurel considered how to answer that for a second. She knew Fiona was Eric’s cousin, and he didn’t exactly sound happy about John and Heather. “It may seem sudden, but don’t be too hard on him. As a rule, I think men find it harder to hold on to a lost love, not as long as a woman might anyway.”
“Do you think so? Me, I’ve always considered women to be the fickle ones. Millie, of course, is a rare exception. Fiona was too.”
“You say that women are fickle,” Laurel said with a gentle firmness, “yet the first two women you call to mind are exceptions?” She shook her head. “Perhaps your opinion of a woman’s loyalty is biased because you typically only hear the man’s version of things.”
“So you think a man is quicker to forget a woman than vice versa?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe not forget, although I think women are more prone to make relationships — all kinds of relationships — a bigger part of our identities. We can’t seem to help it. It’s not that men don’t love deeply, but . . . ”
Eric smiled. “I’m sure Millie would agree with you. She is always touting the superiority of the female sex. But I wonder about the wisdom of stubbornly hanging on to a true lost cause.”
“And I think you just made my point for me.” Laurel returned his smile, but a prickle on the back of her neck made her turn toward James. She felt a jolt of emotion roll off him, as he stared — no, almost glared — at her. She turned back to Eric and boldly pressed on.
“A man is much quicker to call the cause a lost one, pack up his life and start over. A woman will continue to love, even when all hope of her love being returned is gone.”
Just then, Eddie, the owner of The Loft, stepped up to introduce the next singer on the open-mike list. Laurel wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed or relieved at the distraction, but his next words surprised her so much that she never got the chance to figure it out.
“Hey you all, we’ve got some talent here tonight all the way from California, and word is that he can play a mean guitar and sing a little too. We’ve heard him here at The Loft before, but it was a loooong time ago, so let’s give a warm welcome back to — James Marshall.”
A couple of hoots and polite applause rose from the audience, and James stood, looking like he was at a loss. A little urging from his friends and a nudge from Gary sent him up to the stage. He picked up the guitar sitting there, played a few chords, and noodled up and down the scale, deep in thought. Then he looked up. “I was going to suggest a little Motown . . . ”
Somebody let out a ‘woo-hoo!’ from the back, and James chuckled. “But . . . instead of an oldie but a goodie, how about one I wrote instead?”
Several people nodded, and someone hollered out, “Go for it!”
“I wrote the music a long time ago. It took a while, but over the last couple of weeks I finally found the lyrics in my head.” James’s low voice rumbled into the mike. “This is for Laurel.”
Laurel’s heart stopped and then began to pound so loudly she thought everyone could hear it, even over the ‘woo-woo’s’ and ‘hubba-hubba’s’ of the crowd.
The guitar hummed out the rhythm of an introduction, and her mouth ran dry when she recognized the melody from a far-off winter’s evening spent in a dilapidated, old cabin up the road.
James pinned Laurel with a stare, took a deep breath, and sang:
Tell me it’s not too late.
I can’t perceive my fate.
Here I stand, agony, hope intertwined.
Will I be yours till the end of all time?
He closed his eyes then, and the longing and pain spilled out onto the audience, as if he was trying to purge it from his own soul.
I must speak, knowing that I’ve been unfair to you.
You pierced my soul with yours long, long ago.
Laurel realized the entire table was staring at her. Susan and Gary exchanged one of those looks that couples use to communicate without talking. Eric’s eyebrows shot almost up to his hairline, but she couldn’t say anything to him; she couldn’t even give them all a reassuring smile.
You brought me here to your side,
Right where I belong.
You kept my heart safe with you all these years.
Tell me that you still care.
Answer my ardent prayer.
We had a love so rare,
A life we meant to share.
Give me a look, a word.
Can’t you see? Don’t you know?
I’ve found real wonder in you.
Listen to the music: http://karenmcox.merytonpress.com/find-wonder-in-all-things/
At last, mercifully, the song was over, and as the final chord still hung in the air, James looked up. Their eyes met, he put down the guitar and, amid clapping and hoots, walked straight past the next performer and out the door.
She watched him leave, walking away from her — one more time — and it was one time too many. Something inside her snapped.
Oh no you don’t! Not again you don’t, you coward! Don’t you dare throw down a gauntlet like that and walk away from me! Her stool scraped against the floor as she bolted to her feet and followed him into the dark.
“James!” she shouted, more harshly than she meant to. He halted and turned around, and she sped up to catch him.
“What the hell was that about?”
He said nothing, just shook his head in a daze, green eyes fastened to her blue ones.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I hardly know.”
“How dare you!”
“Huh?”
“I said, how dare you! How dare you . . . blindside me like that?”
“I don’t — ”
“James Marshall, every time I see you, the blasted event ends with you giving me one of those heated looks and storming off into the night.”
“I don’t — ”
“What am I supposed to think? That night after Heather’s accident, you kiss me like there’s no tomorrow, and then you apologize for it like it was some monumental mistake!”
“I thought you didn’t — ”
“I don’t see or hear from you for three months” — she held up her fingers for emphasis — “and then you show up out of the blue at my art show. You stand around the reception and gape at me all evening — and don’t say you didn’t; people noticed.” She pointed her finger accusingly at him.
“You have no idea . . . ” Her voice softened. “It was so incredible to see you, but once again you walked away from me even though I encouraged you to stay.”
“That Edwards guy — ”
She pierced him with a glare. “That Edwards
guy is nothing to me! He’s my dad’s friend — that’s all.”
“Oh.”
“So, I work up the courage to try and find you. You don’t make that very easy by the way. Finally . . . finally, I’m going to tell you how I feel about you . . . ”
“How you feel about me?” he asked in a soft voice, a small, slow smile warming his expression.
But Laurel was on a roll, and eight years’ worth of emotions spilled from her mouth, a torrent of words held too close for too long. “And I have this little speech all set for when I go up to Susan’s tomorrow, but no, you’re not there, you’re here! At The Loft! Of course!” She was pacing back and forth, gesticulating in wild motions with both hands. “It’s just my luck; I only see you when I’m completely unprepared!”
“You were coming to find me?”
“And before I know it, you’re standing up in front of people and saying, ‘This is for Laurel’ in that deep, sexy voice of yours.”
“You think my voice is sexy?”
“And then you sing that song in front of everybody — you make that big dramatic gesture — and now you’re just going to walk out the door? Nuh-uh, buster — not this time.” She stopped directly in front of him. “This time you face me like a man and tell me what’s in that thick head of yours, ’cause I can’t figure it out, and I can’t stand it anymore. Tell me!”
He looked at her a long minute, watching her breath come in short, agitated pants, hands on her hips, red hair shining, glorious and garish under the street light.
“I promise to answer every question you ask, but give me a minute, okay?”
She snorted. “Why should I?”
“’Cause right now I’m so damned turned on I could take you against that pickup truck over there and not blink an eye.”
Laurel’s eyes widened in shock, but then James closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. He placed a soft kiss on her palm and looked deeply into her eyes.
“And that’s not what we need right now, Mountain Laurel.” He straightened up, keeping hold of her hand, giving her a lopsided smile. “Mountain Laurel. You’d never know by looking at those delicate blooms what a tough and hardy shrub is hiding underneath. Of course, you probably already know that, don’t you?”