Find Wonder in All Things

chapter 3

James climbed out of the bunk bed and eased his way toward the door at the bow, careful not to slam the screen door and wake Stuart.

He sat on the boat deck and jammed his feet into his running shoes. It was just after dawn and a fog still hung over the lake, but he knew a run would settle his head a little. He always had trouble sleeping the first night in a new place, and this trip was no different. Vaulting over the houseboat railing and onto the dock, he landed with a soft thud and took off at a brisk walk toward dry land. As he walked up the steep climb to the road, he cast an involuntary glance toward The Loft and further up to the driveway that led to the Elliot’s log house. There was no noise except the rumble of an outboard motor — an early bird fisherman, putting his boat in the lake. The air was thick with the smell of honeysuckle and locust trees.

He turned in the opposite direction, jogging toward the state park and its winding paths. The humid air was like liquid in his lungs, and he was already sweating. Long legs took graceful strides all around the park, until he figured he’d gotten in a couple of miles. While he ran, he mused about how to fix things up with Laurel. Odd how it was so important to him that they clear the air. He told himself it was because he worked with her and the summer would go a lot more smoothly if they got along. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to date her. No matter what Stuart said, she was technically still a high school girl in James’s mind, and he avoided those like the plague. He couldn’t take the giggling.

But then again, Laurel was a different sort of girl. For one thing, he’d known her for years. For another, he had yet to hear her giggle. He guessed that working and living at her father’s marina all her life had made her levelheaded — and more mature than a lot of the girls he knew at college. Somehow, she’d also gotten very pretty. So should he reconsider asking her out? He realized he liked her — a lot. If she was willing, maybe he should get to know her better.

He rounded the next bend and came by the playground swing set when he saw someone else up as early as he was. Sitting in a swing, staring at her feet was the object of his morning musings. He could hardly believe his luck. They would get to talk before work.

James stopped in his tracks, and the sound of feet skidding in the gravel caused her to look up. Her face held no expression; she just looked him up and down. He raised a hand in greeting and settled himself into the swing beside her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Her voice was soft.

“Did you sleep well?”

She laughed softly. “You sound like my grandfather. His main concern in life was that everyone slept well. Actually, no I didn’t — did you?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“That’s why you’re up so early today?”

“I like to run early. It settles me — so I don’t make stupid mistakes and silly assumptions during the day.”

“Oh?” She looked confused.

“I didn’t get to run yesterday. That must have been what happened.”

“Oh?” Laurel shook her head, still not comprehending.

“Last night — my silly assumptions and stupid mistakes.”

She waited.

“That song I chose for the open mike . . . ”

“Yes?”

“Stuart said that somehow I gave you the impression that I wanted to ask out Virginia, when the truth was . . . ”

Her head shot up, and she gave him a sharp look.

“I was more interested in seeing you . . . I mean, seeing that you didn’t get your feelings hurt.”

She tilted her head, her eyes full of questions.

“You spent all day with Stuart, and I thought you and he . . . ”

“Oh!” She gave an exasperated sigh. “We were talking about Ginny. He wants to go see her at college, and I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.”

“Why not? Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No, she’s just busy. Her class is winding down, and she needs to study. I’m not sure a distraction from that is a good thing right now.”

“You sound like her mother. Are you your sister’s keeper?” he asked with a smile.

“We’re each other’s keepers,” she replied with emphasis. “Ever since that stupid boyfriend of hers spread all those rumors a couple of years ago, Virginia and I watch each other’s backs.”

James dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt below the swing. “Yeah, Stuart told me about the a*shole boyfriend yesterday. I didn’t know about it.”

“She got rid of him pretty quick after he said those things. It made me think twice about dating any of the guys around here, I’ll tell you that.”

She stopped. “Wait a minute. You thought Stuart was interested in me?”

“You sound surprised.”

She looked back at the ground and pushed herself back and forth with her foot. “Usually guys are interested in Virginia rather than me, and I just assumed you were too.”

“Maybe you assume wrong. I recommend running to help with that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “I can definitely see why a guy would want to ask you out.”

She smiled at him just as the sun popped out from over the hill across the lake, blinding and warming him at the same time. Her hair blazed like copper fire under the spell of red and orange dawn. Words tumbled out of his mouth, unplanned and unfamiliar.

“Are you allowed to date?”

“You mean go out places, to movies and dinner and things?”

He nodded.

“Well, yeah, I guess. It’s never really come up before.”

“So when you said you don’t date guys from around here . . . ”

“Here is the only place I’ve ever been. All the guys I know are either tourists or locals.”

“So you mean . . . ”

“Besides,” she interrupted, “my parents need me to work at home a lot, and well . . . nobody’s ever asked me except for school dances.”

“Now I’m surprised.”

She blushed and changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you— when did you learn to play the guitar?”

“I guess I started when I was about sixteen. I needed a way to combat the ‘angry young man’ syndrome.”

“You were an angry young man?”

He nodded.

“That’s hard to believe.”

“All young men are angry about something or other.”

“Even you, huh?”

His smile dimmed. “I’ve had my moments. Music helps me forget them.”

“Oh.” She dragged her toe across the dirt under the swing. “Did you take lessons or just learn on your own?”

“A little of both. I started with acoustic, but I play a little electric now and then as well. I’m in this band, and we play local gigs around Dayton.”

“When do you have time to study?”

James tried to keep from laughing. He never studied, but it wouldn’t do to have a freshman think that’s how one got through college. “We mostly play on weekends.”

“Shh, be still!”

The unexpected order surprised him until he followed her eyes and watched as a butterfly floated down and landed gently on his thumb that was wrapped around the chain of the swing. “Well, would you look at that?” he ventured, watching the creature rhythmically fold and unfold its wings. “Do you know what kind it is? Is it a monarch?”

She squinted at it. “Don’t move, so I can get a good look at it.” She paused. “No, it’s a Viceroy I think–Limenitis archippus.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she broke into a smile. “Binomial nomenclature is a hobby of my father’s. When I was a little girl, I followed him everywhere around this marina. He taught me a lot of the birds and butterflies that are native here.” She watched the butterfly until it flew off. “Find wonder in all things, even the most pedestrian,” she said, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a quote from Carl Linnaeus, the botanist. He developed the system of classifying plants and animals. He’s the father of modern ecology and my father’s idol.” She smiled and looked back at James.

“So your father knows a lot about the flora and fauna around here?”

“He was going to be a biology professor, but he never finished grad school. My dad loves the outdoors — studying the animals, the insects, the plants. In fact, all us girls are named for wildflowers found in the Appalachians.”

“Laurel? Okay, I’ve heard of that. Laurel what?”

“Laurel’s my middle name.”

His eyebrow rose while he waited.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Mountain Laurel.”

He grinned. “Aha. Very beautiful. But ‘Virginia?’ That’s a state.”

“Virginia Bluebell.”

James snorted.

“And, before you ask, our baby sister’s name is Spring Violet.”

“What are the boys named for?”

“Singers in the 1960’s. Dylan, for Bob Dylan, and Crosby, for David Crosby.”

“What did your mother have to say about all this?”

“Nothing. She pretty much lets Daddy have his way about those kinds of things.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You working tonight?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yep. You?”

He nodded.

“Well I suppose I best get back.” She stood up, stilling the swing with her hands. “Mom will want me to help with the kids’ breakfasts, and you probably want to take a shower. You know there’s a public shower up at the marina, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Stu showed me yesterday. I suppose I should get back too. He might be awake by now, and we’re heading into town. I gotta go to the bank and open up an account.”

“If he’s leaving early to drive up and see Ginny, you won’t have a ride.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.”

“If he can’t take you, I will.”

“It’s a deal.” He stood up, holding out his hand.

She laughed and reached out, but after they shook, he didn’t let her go.

Slowly, hand in hand, they began the descent back to the marina and boat dock. Traffic had picked up while they were gone. Cars with trailers and fishing boats were lined up three and four deep, waiting to put into the water for the day.

“Will your father care?”

“If I take you to the bank?” She shook her head. “No, I can borrow his pick-up almost anytime I want.”

He slowed his pace and swung their hands up, holding hers against the center of his chest. “I meant will he mind if we go out somewhere?”

“If you’ve got no car, where are we supposed to go?” Her voice was a little breathless, but there was a touch of amusement under the disbelief.

James grinned down at her. “What about if I’m holding your hand while we walk? Will he care about that?”

“Worried about getting fired?”

He laughed. “A little, yeah.”

“Don’t worry. Daddy’s not like that. If my mother finds out on the other hand, watch out.” She smiled, but James caught the distinct note of warning in her words. He wondered about Mrs. Elliot. People rarely saw her, but he’d heard stories about her from Stuart’s mother over the years. She kept to herself at the log house that Walter Elliot built for his family above the marina. She raised an organic garden, preserved food by canning and drying, and sewed the kids’ clothes; except for a monthly trip into the town grocery store, she didn’t frequent any of the shops in town. There was no evidence she had friends outside the family either, which Mrs. Pendleton thought was odd, given how outgoing the rest of the Elliots were.

By the time he had thought all this through, they had reached the dock.

“I gotta go back up this way.”

“Sorry, I guess I could have walked you to your driveway.”

“No worries — I can make it on my own. Been doing it for years, Sir Galahad.”

“I’m sure you have.” He smiled at the ironic choice of words — Galahad, a symbol of gallantry and purity, and just about the last words he’d ever use to describe himself.

“See you tonight then.”

She took off, but he kept hold of her hand, forcing her to turn and face him. He pulled her close and looked at her. James wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but he could almost look her square in the eye. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

“Bye, Mountain Laurel.”

She grinned and took off up the ramp.