Born in the Valley

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “You think she’s met someone else?”

  “Of course not. But I’ll bet she’s afraid Keith will think so.” Beth hesitated, then added, “She hasn’t said a word to me about this, Greg, but I wonder if one of the reasons she’s afraid to talk to Keith is that she’s afraid of losing him. To someone else.”

  “You think he’s having an affair?” Greg sounded more hesitant than shocked. Beth’s concern for her sister-in-law grew.

  “I hope not.”

  “I’ve seen him and Martha Moore together more than once.”

  “She’s his new program director.” Beth had only met the older woman a couple of times, but she’d liked her and admired what she’d heard about her.

  Still… A lonely woman, a good-looking man, spending many hours together in a studio…

  “I can’t believe that of Keith,” Greg said, a leg on either side of the lounge as he sat forward. “He’s a good guy. Besides, I think I’d know if he were cheating on my sister.”

  Greg had so much faith in people.

  “So what are you going to do?” she asked, looking skyward as she thanked the stars that this man, the sheriff of Shelter Valley, was her husband. And hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for disappointment.

  “For now, figure out who’s setting these damned fires.”

  Beth didn’t doubt that he’d find the culprit. She wished she felt as certain about Bonnie’s chances of finding the answers she was seeking.

  TUESDAY AFTER WORK Bonnie and Katie stopped by Grandma Nielson’s house. Keith was playing basketball with some guys from the university—filling in for a professor who had the flu—and they were worried about Lonna. With good reason, it turned out. Lonna was just leaving as Bonnie pulled in, her car loaded with food for Grace and Dorothy.

  Though she was wearing hose and pumps, her slacks were wrinkled and her face looked as though it’d developed more lines in the two days since they’d seen her.

  The weariness in Lonna’s posture scared her.

  “I’d love to stay and play with the little miss,” Grandma said, the longing in her voice apparent as she caught sight of her great-granddaughter strapped in her car seat. “But if I don’t get these meals delivered…”

  “It’s okay, Grandma,” Bonnie said. “Why don’t we just load up that food in the back of the van and I’ll drive you around?”

  Grandma hesitated, an indication to Bonnie that she wanted to accept.

  “I can’t,” Grandma said. “I have to stay and visit with Grace. I didn’t have time this morning.”

  “You were there this morning, too?”

  “Before my long-range planning meeting,” Lonna said, preoccupied as she peered at the food in the back seat of her car. “I hope I have everything.”

  “I don’t mind if we stay and visit Grace,” Bonnie announced, figuring they could make a quick stop at home to get a snack for Katie on the way.

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure.”

  Bonnie wasn’t. But there was no way she could leave Grandma to help her friends alone when she was so clearly exhausted. She just prayed that Katie, who’d had a long day herself, continued to behave until they got home.

  As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Instead of being a problem, Katie made the impromptu journey a success, first with her great-grandmother, regaling Lonna with a mostly absurd tale about her day in school, and then as they visited Grandma’s friends.

  When Katie saw Dorothy propped up with pillows on her couch, the little girl walked over, patted her arm and whispered that Mama would make her all better.

  Instead, it was Katie who did that, bringing light and life into a home that was quiet and lonely. Dorothy’s eyes were sparkling by the time the three Nielson women took their leave.

  And Bonnie had fallen in love with her little girl all over again.

  “I’M OBSESSING, Pastor.” Bonnie sat in the office of the minister she’d known for more than twenty years.

  “About what?”

  Bonnie looked down, ashamed to voice the words.

  “About money?” he asked softly.

  She wished. “No.”

  He coughed, leaned forward, his hands folded on top of his desk.

  “Is it about sex? Another man?”

  “No.” Another time she might’ve been shocked at the thought. Now, in spite of her negative reply, the question seemed almost reasonable.

  “Things are okay between you and Keith, then?” The words were uttered gently by this soft-spoken man. There was nothing “fire and brimstone” about Pastor Edwards.

  “No.” Which was why she was having her first ever pastor-parishioner consultation that Thursday evening. Before the previous Saturday, she hadn’t been open with Keith. Since that night’s revelations, he was hardly speaking to her.

  Something had to give.

  And because she was the cause of it all, it was going to have to be her.

  “In what way are they bad?” The kindly, graying man sat behind his old-fashioned desk, the epitome of every father figure she’d ever known, even though he was probably only in his early fifties. “Is there abuse?”

  “No!” Bonnie couldn’t have him thinking that. The idea was ludicrous. “We just can’t…find each other. Can’t communicate.”

  “Have you tried marriage counseling?” Pastor Edwards asked.

  Twisting her hands in her lap, Bonnie shook her head. “No.”

  “Well, then, it would seem to me—”

  “The marriage isn’t the problem,” Bonnie blurted, frustrated by her inability to speak, to explain, to break out of the prison she’d erected around herself. “It’s me.” Suddenly the words exploded passionately from her. “I feel like my life here is holding me back.”

  “From what?”

  “I don’t know. Using myself, my talents and abilities, to their fullest.”

  Sighing, Bonnie relaxed in the chair, releasing some of her earlier tension.

  With a look of compassion, Pastor Edwards sat back, too, folding his hands across his stomach. Bonnie waited for more questions.

  There were none.

  “I love Shelter Valley,” she told him. “But I feel almost as if this town, with all of us looking out for each other, protects us from the harsher realities of life—and from our responsibilities to other people outside our own safe little haven.”

  The minister stood, coming around to lean against the corner of his desk.

  “What about Keith and Katie? Do you want to leave them?”

  “Absolutely not,” she replied without hesitation. “They’re my life, Pastor. Of that, I’m sure.”

  Spreading his hands, he said, “Well, you’ve certainly got the most important things in place.”

  Disappointed, Bonnie looked up at the tall man, suspecting that he didn’t have the answers she’d been hoping to find here.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “YOU THINK I should just count my blessings?” Bonnie eventually asked the minister.

  “No.” Pastor Edwards shook his head. “But did you ever stop to consider that maybe you’re just going through a very natural period of adjustment in the process of life?” He leaned forward with a hand propped on his knee. “I think women, in particular, face this kind of thing again and again,” he continued. “You reach a point in life where you’ve met your immediate goals and then feel as though you aren’t needed anymore.”

  He was in preacher mode, and Bonnie waited for the words of wisdom for which she’d come.

  “It’s a form of letdown,” the pastor explained. “A very real lessening of the energy it took to keep going while you fought your way in the world. Granted, I usually see it when kids are leaving home and mothers aren’t sure how to fill their time and the empty spaces in their hearts, but you’re a unique woman, Bonnie. A nurturer through and through. And you’ve been fighting an uphill battle for most of your life, carrying burdens far too heavy for one as young as you….”

&nb
sp; Bonnie stared at him, afraid to blink in case she spilled the tears that were slowly filling her eyes.

  “You were still a kid—what, twelve?—when you took on caring for your father and brother.”

  “I loved them! I was glad to be able to care for them. It helped me with my own grieving. Made me feel good, safe, like we were still a family.”

  “Exactly. Because you’re a nurturer. But now your father’s gone. And your brother has Beth. The day care is doing well. It doesn’t need you in there fighting tooth and nail for its existence. Keith is happy at work. And little Katie is a model child.”

  Seemed she should be happy, right?

  “Do you think I need counseling?” Bonnie held her breath. She didn’t want to think she was that messed up.

  He shook his head. “A counselor’s role is to help you think things through, to discover what’s going on inside you, and I think you’re already doing that,” he said. “You aren’t having problems figuring anything out, Bonnie. You’re just learning to recognize and understand a new set of feelings.

  “Of course, I can recommend some counselors if you’d feel better talking to someone else.”

  Quickly shaking her head, Bonnie tried to find the ready smile that had been her trademark her entire life.

  “Give yourself some time,” Pastor Edwards said. “And some of that compassion you give everyone else.”

  Bonnie stood, nodding. “And what about Keith?” she asked.

  “Talk to him. Tell him what you’ve told me. You’re his wife—he’s your life partner. And this is one of life’s situations.”

  She nodded again. “Okay.” As much as she didn’t want to hurt Keith, she’d pretty much decided to speak with him. Because she was hurting him. Saturday had shown her that silence had as much power to do harm as the truth.

  Still, it was good to hear her own conclusion validated.

  Holding out her hand, she was comforted by Pastor Edwards’s warm grip, if not his counsel. She appreciated his compassion, but he hadn’t told her anything she didn’t know.

  He walked with her across the beautiful tapestry rug that covered the front half of his office.

  “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

  Bonnie wondered if even his prayers would be strong enough to hold her marriage together.

  She smiled at the woman sitting in a chair out in the hall, waiting to see the pastor. Mrs. Emily Baker. Maybe twelve years older than Bonnie, the woman was more beautiful than Bonnie had ever been. Married with a couple of mostly grown kids, she and her family had been in Shelter Valley for at least a decade.

  And still felt like newcomers to Bonnie.

  She hoped that Mrs. Baker’s business with Pastor Edwards was a lot more productive than her own.

  Tempted to stop by Little Spirits on the way home, to see if Shane was there, Bonnie turned her car toward Keith and Katie, instead. The day care was closed and she belonged with her family.

  After Katie was asleep, she did a couple of extra loads of laundry, cleaning out the kitchen drawers while she waited for the washer and dryer to finish their cycles. Keith was in the office, working at his desk, probably paying bills, but Bonnie wasn’t sure. She hadn’t ventured close enough to ask.

  She’d called Beth. Told her what Pastor Edwards had said. Beth had said Greg had told her pretty much the same thing.

  She had to talk to Keith.

  She emptied leftovers out of the refrigerator.

  She was stalling and she knew it.

  So much was at risk. Either way.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  In denim overalls and a white T-shirt, Bonnie was in the laundry room, matching socks on top of the dryer, a job they usually shared. Keith had come to stand in the doorway, but didn’t offer to help.

  “Keith, wait.”

  He turned back, shoulders hunched in the black T-shirt he’d changed into after work. “What?” His eyes were dull.

  “Can we talk a second?”

  “Okay.” Hands in the pockets of his shorts, Keith leaned against the doorjamb, one foot crossed over the other.

  Bonnie continued to match socks.

  She took a breath. And then another.

  Keith didn’t move.

  “I went to see Pastor Edwards after work today.”

  Her husband didn’t say a word.

  “I hoped, foolishly I guess, to find some magical answers there.”

  “He’s just a man like the rest of us.”

  “I know.” Little and white with ridges. Little and white with bows at the top. Little and white but smooth. Katie had too many white socks. And not enough that matched. “His only advice was what I’d already determined myself. To talk to you.”

  Keith’s hand appeared out of nowhere, tossing her a little white sock with a bow.

  Bonnie twisted around. “I love you, Keith. So much.”

  He looked at her and then away. Bonnie turned back to the dryer.

  “I just want you to know that.”

  “Okay.”

  An “I love you, too” would have helped. A lot.

  Big black socks with ridges. Big black socks, smooth. Casual. Dress. Why did everyone need so many different socks?

  “I’m not sure how to explain so you can understand how I feel without taking it personally.”

  Or so he’d understand at all. According to Beth, Greg hadn’t.

  “This is about me, then?”

  “No!” She swung around, catching his gaze, but only briefly. “It’s all me, but I’m afraid you’ll think it’s a reflection of you, or us, and it’s not,” she said, resting her belly against the warmth of the dryer as she grabbed another handful of socks from the laundry basket. “It’s completely separate.”

  “Okay.” A blue sock appeared, a match to one she’d had sitting alone on the dryer.

  She took a deep breath, then let it go. “I’m not happy.” They weren’t the words she’d chosen any of the times she’d run through this moment in her mind.

  “No kidding.”

  “I mean, I am happy—bone-deep happy—with so many things in my life. Yet…it doesn’t seem to be enough.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you want that you don’t have?”

  Another little white sock. Some yellow and green ones. Her running socks. Two different brands of white sport socks, some with gray toes and heels, some with just gray toes. She should’ve run tonight. Running sounded really good. Free.

  “To matter more.”

  “You think I don’t love you enough?”

  “No!” She turned. “Yes! You love me far more than I deserve. I told you this wasn’t about you.”

  “Then tell me what it is, Bonnie, because I’m not getting it.”

  “I think I’ve made all the difference I can make.”

  Had he edged away from the door? Or was she just imagining his withdrawal?

  “That doesn’t even make sense, Bon. You have a three-year-old daughter sleeping down the hall who’s counting on you to make a lot of difference between now and her eighteenth birthday. And beyond that, as well.”

  Head averted, Keith reached for a green sock of hers from the laundry basket, tossed it next to its mate on the dryer. “I was counting on that, too. For her. And for me.”

  Dropping the pair of blue socks in her hand, Bonnie folded the green ones. The dryer stopped. She missed its soothing vibration.

  “I plan to be there to do all that, Keith, but what about the rest of me? Taking care of you and Katie is a given, but what do I do with myself when you’re both living your lives every day? Especially as Katie gets older?”

  “Are you forgetting you own a business?”

  “It practically runs itself.”

  “I don’t get it, Bonnie. It sounds like none of us is good enough for you. Or…enough for you, anyway.”

  She didn’t know which of them was more frustrated. “Katie and I wouldn’t be enough for you, either, Keith. Not by ourselves. You’ve
got the station to challenge you every day. And the opportunity there to reach thousands of people with whatever message you choose to send them.”

  “And you’re helping to shape young minds in their most formative years. Teaching them not only about shapes and colors, but about love and sharing. Setting examples of honesty and fairness.”

  “All things this town will show them on its own,” she said more sharply than she wanted to. She wasn’t getting through to him at all. “I embody what Shelter Valley has given me. The kids at Little Spirits are already well loved before they come to me. And the feeling of safety and security I give them…well, they get that everywhere in this town.”

  “So Shelter Valley is the problem.”

  Sighing, Bonnie felt some of her anger deflate. “I don’t think it is,” she said. “I love this town. I really do. I love the sense of belonging, of family, I feel here.”

  “Just tell me what you want, Bonnie.”

  “I’m not sure I can answer that. Other than sparing you and Katie the unhappiness I seem to be bringing us all, the last thing I want is to get away from you.

  “And before you ask, I love Little Spirits and Grandma Nielson, and all the children in this town, too. Yet, there doesn’t seem to be enough here to satisfy me. I’m just so aware that there’s a whole world out there, a world in trouble, and I’m not doing a darn thing about any of it.”

  Throwing two socks together, Bonnie folded them and put them on top of the washer.

  Keith was behind her, reaching around one side of her for those socks and around the other for a lone sock on the dryer.

  His warmth, the way he almost had his arms around her, made her lips tremble.

  “Those don’t match,” he said, fixing the problem and returning the correctly folded pair to her pile.

  Instead of going back to the door, he stood beside her in front of the dryer, the laundry basket between them.

  “It sounds to me like you’re having a midlife crisis and we just need to wait it out.”

  Bonnie bit back the retort that flew to her lips. And blinked back the tears, too. He still wasn’t getting it. “I’m having a crisis, all right,” she said when she trusted herself to speak calmly. “But this is not about midlife, Keith. Hell, I’m not even forty. I’m certainly not through my child-bearing years and our daughter isn’t in kindergarten. This is about needing to be needed, about waking up in the morning knowing I have to get up because something necessary won’t get done if I don’t.”