Find Wonder in All Things

chapter 18

Laurel climbed out of Stu and Virginia’s SUV and looked up at James’s cabin, conflicting thoughts volleying back and forth in her head. Spending the evening at his house would be awkward, but at least he seemed to be trying distant civility this time rather than ignoring her as he had done the last time they were forced together. He had even said nice things about her to his friends. But then again, he hadn’t wasted any time in assuring that Stu should call Heather and Carrie and invite them as well to make it, in his words, a ‘lively party.’ Obviously, her company was no longer exciting enough for him.

She made her way up the stairs, listening as Heather and Carrie’s exclamations over the virtues of the house overran every other greeting. As Laurel approached James, arms full of Chianti and store-bought cake, he gestured to the counter without a word.

“Here, let me help you with that.” John Benwick sprang forward from his spot behind the kitchen island and took the bottles from her hand.

“Thanks.” She reshuffled her load and set the cake on the counter. “I hope I didn’t mess up the icing.”

“Looks fine to me,” John said with a gentle smile. He pulled out a corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring glasses for the women and retrieving beers for the men.

“So,” Virginia asked, sipping ice water with lemon, “what do you all think of Kentucky?”

“We like it,” Millie started. “It’s different than San Francisco, that’s for sure.”

“It’s more isolated than we’re used to for one thing,” Eric chimed in. “But I can see why James would like the privacy of his little hideout.”

John turned to Laurel to explain. “We’ve had a little bit too much attention from the press lately.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Nothing too intrusive, but there’s always a picture or a blurb coming out in some gossip rag or community paper. That’s what a little money and a little fame will do. Makes it hard sometimes to know who your friends are.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It was worse after that ‘most eligible bachelor’ garbage was published last year, especially for James. Eric’s married after all, and I was as good as engaged to Fiona, but he’s had to be more careful. You wouldn’t think it, but that really hurt his social life.”

Laurel gave James a quick glance. He was preparing the impromptu feast with Millie and laughing at something she said. Her heart gave a little twist at the idea of people taking advantage of him. As she turned back, she noticed Eric Harville giving her a frank, curious stare while he bounced little Trevor on his arm. He smiled and joined them at the bar.

“Now here’s a woman who likes her privacy, John. I hear you live in a cabin up in the hills without even a phone.”

“Haven’t seen the need for one yet, but sometimes I have to admit, it would be handy. I’ve thought about it, and I’ll probably succumb to the technology beast sooner or later.”

“No computer, I suppose.”

She shook her head, smiling. “No, don’t have one of those either.”

“You’ll have to forgive us geeks. We can’t imagine living without one.”

Laurel laughed. “Well, I can’t imagine living without a potter’s wheel, and I’m pretty sure none of you has one of those.”

“And you would be right.”

“We all have our essentials, don’t we?”

“That we do — this little guy is one of mine.” He kissed the top of Trevor’s bald head. Eric looked around at the crowd gathered in his friend’s house. “I think this is going to be an interesting evening. Good food, good wine, good music, and good company — I can’t think of anything better. It was right for James to come back here.”

“Oh?” Laurel couldn’t help her gaze traveling toward the topic of their conversation.

Eric looked directly in her eyes when he spoke. “James has this restless energy about him, like he’s always looking around for something — or someone. Since we’ve been here, I haven’t seen that look. It’s like he’s come home at last.”

“The mountains and the lake have a way of doing that,” Laurel returned. Baby Trevor gurgled and smiled at her. She lifted her hand and he grasped her finger while she cooed to him.

“Do you mind?” she asked Eric, holding out her arms. “Gotta practice for the auntie thing, you know.”

“That’s my boy.” He handed the baby to her. “He likes pretty women.”

Laurel walked the baby around, talking to him and pointing out the window. The back of her neck prickled wildly, but she ignored it. She took Trevor out on the deck and settled into the big, cushioned chaise lounge, where he fell asleep on her shoulder within a minute or two. She looked around for Eric, but only saw Millie, who was busy cooking, so she sat back and relaxed, holding the baby and listening to the quiet sounds of birds and insects around her. She dozed a little herself, waking a few minutes later to the sound of male voices rising from beneath the deck.

It was Eric’s voice she heard first. “ . . . and available according to Stuart. Striking woman, great smile — don’t you think, James?” There was an unintelligible mumble, and Eric laughed. “Boy, it’s fun to watch you squirm a little bit. What do you think, John?”

“If I were in a better place, I might be interested myself. As it is, I’m not ready, so I’ll just settle for a good friend. She’s easy to talk to and seems really nice. I like your friends, James. They all seem like good people.”

The voices moved out into the yard, out of earshot. The baby stirred and Laurel went in to ask Millie if she ought to put him down in his crib.

Millie directed her to a playpen in the living room, and then Laurel joined her in the kitchen. “Mmm, the sauce smells wonderful.”

“Thanks. It’s kind of my specialty. I spent a semester in Italy and learned to make it from the family I stayed with.”

A knock at the door, followed by, “Hello? Anybody in here?” announced the arrival of Susan and Gary Murtowski.

“Hey, Susan,” Millie called, “Come on in!”

“Hello, everybody!” Gary’s voice reverberated through the house.

“Sh! Gary! You might wake the baby!” Susan elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, sorry,” he said in a stage whisper, while he looked around. “Where’s the menfolk?”

Millie laughed. “Outside, last I knew.”

“Well then, let me grab myself a beer and join ’em.”

Susan watched him go, shaking her head and smiling. “I brought bread,” she held up a couple of Italian loaves wrapped in plastic.

“Great, just set it” — Millie looked around — “on the bar I guess. There’s so many of us, we may have to eat buffet style tonight.”

“I told James he might need a couple more chairs in the dining room, but you know men. They never think of things like that.”

“Oh, by the way, thanks for helping him settle in and get ready for the Harville Invasion. I’m assuming you’re the one who made sure we all had clean towels and the kitchen was stocked. He said you were a big help. This is better than any hotel.”

Susan waved her off. “Oh, you’re welcome. He looked a little overwhelmed when he asked me what he’d need to have on hand for a visiting baby.” She set the bread on the counter and turned around. “Laurel! How are you, dear?”

“I’m good. How about you?”

“I so enjoyed our lunch the other day. We went to that tearoom over in Summerville, Millie, and it was marvelous. You’ll have to go sometime while you’re here.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Susan turned the wine bottle around and read the label. “Think I’ll have a glass of this.”

Laurel handed her a wine glass. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. Now, what needs doing?”

“You can probably start the water for pasta.”

“Can I do something to help?” Laurel asked.

“Hmm . . . Do you want to cut up the salad veggies?”

“Sure. Just let me wash my hands first.” She headed toward the half bath, washed up and was on her way back when the sound of Heather speaking her name startled her. It seemed opportunities for eavesdropping lurked around every corner.

“I know Virginia worries about Laurel. We all like her so much; it just seems a shame the way she wastes away up in that cabin of hers.”

“Well, it’s her decision isn’t it?” James replied. “If living up there isn’t what she wants, the ball’s in her court, and she’s the only one who can pitch it.” His voice rose a little with agitation. “I refuse to feel sorry for people whose lives aren’t what they wanted because they were afraid to take a chance.”

“You really think Laurel’s just too timid to come down off her mountain?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, maybe that’s what makes her happy. I’m just saying that there are a lot of people in the world who have their fates handed to them. Makes it hard to feel sorry for the ones who are persuaded to take a path other than the one they really want. I mean, look at Benwick. He got a raw deal that he had no control over. He found the life he wanted and went for it — but then he lost Fiona. Laurel, on the other hand, could have anything she wants if she had the fortitude to stand up and go for it. I know for a fact she’s had at least one chance to leave, and she turned it down flat, apparently without any regrets.”

Laurel stepped back, startled and, for the first time in a long time, angry. How dare he gossip like that about her with Heather, of all people — shallow Heather with her school-girl giggle, low-cut halter tops, and shoe obsession. Furthermore, he made a brazen assumption that her situation in life was all her own choosing. What a condescending, judgmental comment! And what self-absorbed bitterness to assume that she had not been hurt by what had transpired between them and had no regrets. Well, if he wanted to play the martyr to make himself feel better, so be it. Her eyes stung with tears. Perhaps the old James was really and truly gone for good. Life and the passage of time had changed her, so it stood to reason that he had changed as well — and maybe not for the better. It bothered her, though, to think that he still viewed her decision all those years ago as some kind of cop-out, when it was more about caution and being there for her family.

“Look, I’m not saying anything bad about Laurel,” James was saying, “or about you all for being concerned about her. That’s real nice of you. But what I admire is someone who knows what she wants and then goes for it. It’s the only way to truly live a full life.”

“Oh, I agree with you completely,” Heather concurred with the blind enthusiasm of youth and infatuation. “I would much rather be resolute and determined than wishy-washy.”

Laurel could hear the smile in his voice. “No one could say you aren’t determined, Heather, once you decide on something.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m going to get another beer. You want one?” His voice was coming closer and closer, and before Laurel could gather her wits and get away, she came face to face with him in the hall. He looked startled.

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t see you there.”

All she could do was to stare at him wide-eyed and vulnerable. He raised his eyebrow. “You all right?”

“Fine,” she muttered, and pushed past him and down the hall to the kitchen, intent on busying herself with salad and forgetting all about James Marshall.

* * *

After dinner, the dishes were cleared, the baby was put to bed, and the new group of friends decided on a game of poker to round out the evening, using pennies to make the game interesting. Laurel didn’t care to play, however, and started making noises about heading home when John Benwick approached her, a large book in his hand and an earnest look on his face.

“I dug this out of my suitcase. It’s Fiona’s work — the coffee table book of photos she published. Would you like to see?”

Laurel smiled. “I’d love to see it.” She walked around the back of the couch and sat down, propping her feet on the edge of the coffee table and setting the book at an angle on her knees. John sat beside her, pointing out various pieces as she perused the pages.

“That one was a favorite of hers.” He indicated a cup with cherry blossoms on it. “She loved flowers.”

Laurel ran her finger over the photo. “It’s lovely work — so intricate.”

“She was very talented.” He cleared his throat. “I guess it’s a little maudlin to haul this thing around with me wherever I go . . . ”

Laurel reached out and patted his shoulder. “You miss her, of course. It’s normal that you want to remember.”

As they leafed through the book, Laurel could feel a palpable grief simmering just below the surface, leaving her with the distinct impression that John Benwick, understandably, was heading for a significant depression. She wondered whether his friends had seen this tendency in him. He talked incessantly about his fiancée, not always in sadness, but she was almost always the focus of his conversation. After a while, he even seemed to realize this himself.

“You’re very kind to listen to me talk about Fiona. It’s hard for Eric and James to hear me miss her like this and know they can’t do anything to fix it. They loved her too; everybody loved her. Sometimes I just feel like I’m going to buckle under the weight of losing her. So thank you. It feels good to talk about it — to get it off my chest.”

“I’m convinced it always helps to work through your grief somehow, but people do that in a variety of ways: through talking, through exercise, even through art and music.” She paused. “Don’t you have any family to talk to, John? Or other friends to help you cope that weren’t so close to Fiona?”

“No family to speak of. My father died when I was a teenager, and my mother tries, but she lives far away from me, and we aren’t very close. No brothers or sisters, and as for other friends, well . . . I’m not exactly the best company right now, am I? Making friends seems like an insurmountable challenge.”

“It’s a challenge worth taking though,” Laurel went on. “You might consider a support group. Grieving is a process, and it takes time to move through it. Have you ever heard about the stages of grief?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.”

“I think it would help you to do some reading about it. There are five stages and we have to progress through them all, although it takes people different amounts of time to move through each one. What you don’t want is to get stuck. You want to keep moving through them until you finally reach acceptance, and then you’re ready to move on with your life.”

“The idea of moving on with my life seems impossible right now, but I know you’re right; I really have no other choice.”

“And, from what you’ve told me about Fiona, she was a woman who loved life and loved you, and she would have wanted you to live it to the fullest. She would want you to be at peace.”

“You’re right about that too. She was a very caring person.”

“So, don’t you think you owe it to her to try?”

“I suppose when you put it that way, it makes perfect sense.”

“Good,” Laurel smiled, vaguely aware of the irony of counseling someone to get on with his life, when she had spent the last eight years pining for a man who had left her far behind. A burst of rip-roaring laughter assaulted them from across the room, and Eric called out, “What are you two talking about so seriously over there?”

“We were talking about books,” Laurel replied, swirling the wine in her glass and drinking the last of it down in one big swallow. She smiled at John, and he sent a tentative smile back, but it was a genuine smile, tinged with humor rather than sadness. It changed the look of his face, and she could see how a woman might fall for him. Feeling that familiar prickle on her neck, she turned to look at the card players. Sure enough, James was watching her curiously, but somehow her earlier trepidation had lessened. Now that she knew what he really thought of her and how he had no use for people like her, she needn’t worry about trying to impress him. She felt the stranglehold of anxiety loosen, and she stood up in a decided fashion.

“Is there room for one or two more? I think I’d like to try my hand at this game.” She walked over to the table.

“Sure,” Eric answered her. “Pull up a chair. We’re always ready for another sucker . . . I mean another player, right guys?”

“Right,” came the chorus of replies.

She beckoned to John and pulled up a couple of chairs. “Well then, somebody deal us in.”

* * *

The next morning, Laurel was up early, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. Sure, there would always be some regret about James, but having inured herself to his presence for the most part, she felt that perhaps now she could move on. Counseling John Benwick to do the same had reinforced her resolve. It was time to stop hiding on the mountain and go live the rest of her life.

She fixed tea and oatmeal, worked a couple of hours on ideas for new pottery designs, and then decided to head over to the marina. It was Thursday, so she needed to do her father’s payroll for the next day. Then, she’d go by the Pendletons’ houseboat and touch base with Ginny before they went out on the lake for the day. They had invited her along, of course, but this time, she declined. Despite her newfound resolution regarding James Marshall, she wanted to keep a little distance between them.

The four Pendletons, minus Heather, were at the boat when Laurel arrived. She and James had gone out for a walk along the docks.

Laurel hadn’t been there five minutes when Virginia commented that she needed some supplies from the marina store and asked Carrie to walk up and fetch them.

“I’ll go with you,” Laurel volunteered. “I’ve got work to do at the marina office anyway.”

They set off and soon saw Heather and James strolling leisurely toward them from another pier. Heather was talking, her hands moving in wide, animated gestures, and James was smiling. He looked relaxed, walking with his hands behind him, wearing khaki shorts, a polo shirt and topsiders with no socks. Laurel’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him stroll toward her. He was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and she couldn’t help but look at him.

Carrie called out, and they looked up at the same time.

“Hey,” Heather greeted them cheerfully. “Where are you two going?”

“Just up to the shop to get some things for Virginia.”

“Here, we’ll join you.” Heather took James’s arm and pulled him in behind the two women.

They had almost reached the marina store when they met a man heading out to the shore. He stepped aside for the ladies to pass on the narrow dock, and started with recognition.

“Well, hello, Laurel.”

She looked more closely, and then her face broke into a smile. “Dr. Edwards!”

“Cooper, please.” He held out his hand to her and clasped hers in a warm grip, using both his hands to hold her fingers fast.

“Yes, Cooper, of course. What brings you here?”

“Came to see your father. After you and I met up at Woodland, I realized it had been far too long since I’d seen him and decided to make the trek down from Benton. There’s really no excuse — me being as close as I am. Shameful I haven’t come before.”

“I’m sure he was glad to see you.” A gust of wind took a wisp of hair over her face, and she brushed it back with a delicate hand. Cooper Edwards’ gaze warmed, and his eyes slid down her form with admiration.

“And now I run into you as well — my lucky day. I would have come by to visit you, too, if I’d known how to contact you,” he hinted.

“Oh, I don’t have a phone, but you can always reach me through Dad.” Laurel rarely told anyone where her cabin was. Anyone close enough to visit her at home knew where it was already.

At last, Cooper noticed her companions and paused, expecting an introduction.

“Oh, these are some friends of mine; this is Carrie and Heather, and this is James.”

Cooper nodded hello to the other three. “Well,” he said, turning back to Laurel, “I guess I’ll be heading out. Have to be back for class by three.”

“Of course; don’t let us keep you. I’m glad you came to see Dad though. I’m sure it was the highlight of his week.”

Cooper laughed and looked down in an attempt to appear humble, but it rang false on him.

“The pleasure was mine, I’m sure.”

“Goodbye then.”

“Au revoir.” He leaned over then and, to her surprise, took her elbow and kissed her cheek. James stiffened slightly, and so did she.

“Who was that?” Carrie asked after he was out of earshot.

“A friend of Mr. Elliot’s of course. Weren’t you listening?” Heather replied in an exasperated voice.

“He’s cute for an old guy — very distinguished.”

“He’s a professor at my old college.” Laurel, more than a little curious at this spontaneous visit, turned to watch him walk away. “I ran into him last week at a craft fair.”

“And he drives all this way to see your dad for the first time in years, and then he drops a little lip love on you?” Carrie teased. “Have you been holding out on us, Laurel?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my dad’s friend and, therefore, mine.”

“He didn’t look at you like he wants to be friends. I didn’t see a ring on his finger either. You should think about it,” Carrie sing-songed.

Laurel waved her off and continued toward the marina so quickly that she didn’t catch James’s scowl as he watched the man disappear into the distance. After a second, he followed along behind the girls, but the easygoing smile he sported earlier was long gone.