Find Wonder in All Things

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 pulled 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?”

She nodded.

“You’re like your name, my love; most people don’t know . . . can’t appreciate it, but I’ve seen it — your quiet strength. I’ve never met another woman who could compare to you, ever — so beautiful, but with such inner grace . . . such endurance.”

She stood, speechless, as he shook his head in that charming, self-deprecating way of his and went on.

“You’re an amazing woman, it’s true, but even you aren’t omniscient. You didn’t know what was in my head when I first came back here, but then I didn’t know it myself. I tried to convince myself that what we had all those years ago couldn’t have been real, that I had built it into some impossible fantasy. But it wasn’t a fantasy” — he paused — “it was a dream. A dream I persuaded myself I could never have, and not having it made me a kind of an a*shole, I have to admit. I was angry, jealous, resentful, and I acted poorly, but every time I searched my heart, you were there. Once I saw you again, I couldn’t think about anyone else, and I felt a hopeful little flicker of love I thought was long forgotten.

“I told myself I came because I needed closure, needed to get rid of the illusion, but my resentment was no match for the reality of you. I realized I’ve never loved anyone else, and I couldn’t stay away any longer. I’ve come here to the lake to find you, Laurel. That’s what’s in this thick head of mine, sweetheart. I’m desperately planning how I can make a life with you.”

He paused, waiting to see what she would say, but since she was incapable of speaking, he continued.

“Years ago, I wanted to drag you into the limelight with me.” He smiled wryly. “But I guess Mountain Laurels don’t do well under the harsh light of the sun. They need the shelter and safety of the forest in order to thrive, but I didn’t realize that. Somehow, you found a way to bloom there in the quiet woods of Uppercross. It’s been your refuge, hasn’t it? But now, could you consider letting me have the honor of being your safe haven? That’s what I wanted all those years ago, but maybe I wasn’t up to it then. I was too bull-headed, too stubborn to give you what you needed from me — too young and stupid to even know what that need was — but now, I believe I could do a better job, and I’d sure as hell like to try. I’d offer to give my heart and soul to you, but they’ve always been yours. I belong to you, Laurel. Please tell me it’s not too late — that, like you told Eric, you haven’t given up on a love you thought was hopeless.”

She stared at him, completely bewildered. “You’re forgiven,” she whispered.

He grinned and pulled her into his arms.

“Not entirely, but for the most part,” she murmured into his chest.

“It’s more than I deserve.” He kissed her temple, not trusting himself to take her mouth yet.

“Just don’t run from me anymore. It hurts so much when you run.” Her voice wobbled with emotion, and she blinked back tears in a frantic attempt not to cry.

He smoothed his hands over her back. “I won’t; I promise. Sorry I blindsided you. I wasn’t thinking straight, I guess.

“I wanted to ask Susan and Gary for advice before coming back to convince you that we should be together. We were talking out my strategy when I looked around and there you were. You sat right next to me — so close.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “So close.” He cleared his throat and went on. “I could feel your warmth and breathe in the scent of your hair. Then I heard all that stuff you said to Eric about loving when all hope was gone, and it just hit me wrong. I couldn’t bear to think how unhappy I might have made you, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I was. I just needed a minute — or maybe a lifetime — to figure out what to say.” He stepped back and hung his head. “And then Eddie called me up there, and my head was full of you and your song . . . but then I panicked, like I usually do where you’re concerned . . . so I bumbled ahead anyway and blew it.”

She reached her arms around his neck. “Well, we can’t go back in there now. I’m sure we just shocked the hell out of Stu and Eric and anyone else who pays attention to song lyrics.”

“Eric won’t be surprised. I told him about you.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm.”

They stood in silence a minute, just clinging to each other.

“Crosby knew some about you too.”

“You told big-mouth Crosby?”

She chuckled.

“Speak of the devil — I mean, devils.” James released her and she turned around to see both her brothers at The Loft’s entrance. Crosby was leaning against a post, and Dylan stood scowling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Just checking you’re okay,” Crosby called.

“I’m okay,” she called back.

“Then we’re going back inside.” He paused. “Mess her over, Marshall, and Dylan and I will put your ass in a sling — you got that?”

“Got it.”

Crosby held up his hand and disappeared into the building. Dylan followed after giving James an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, a la Robert deNiro.

James ran his hands up and down her arms. “Let’s go somewhere — somewhere quiet where we can talk.”

“It’s too cold to sit by the lake. What about my house?”

“Perfect.”