Find Wonder in All Things

chapter 6

Mr. Elliot swung open the kitchen door and stuck his head through, frowning. “Mountain Laurel, stop moping around and fill the salt and peppers.” This was uncharacteristically stern talk from father to daughter, and James stole a glance over at her while he stacked dishes on the shelves.

Huffing, she grabbed a tray to carry salt and pepper shakers, banged the door open with her hip, and disappeared into the dining room. Yes, she was moping a little, but then again, so was he. Summer was over. He had packed most of his things and cleaned up the Pendletons’ boat. Stuart would arrive the next day around noon, and the two of them would travel back to Ohio. A few days at home and then it was back to the grind of classes.

With Laurel leaving the following Sunday, this would be their last night together for who knew how long. He never expected it would be this difficult to leave her behind. He had a lead on a used car when he got home, but even with his own wheels, he might only get to see her once or twice before the semester break. It wasn’t that he couldn’t live without her — he just didn’t want to.

But this was the way of things. People moved on with their lives, didn’t they? It couldn’t be helped. But he wondered: if Stu felt half as much for Virginia as he did for Laurel, how did they do this separation thing year after year?

James heard Mr. Elliot’s voice, low and urgent behind the door, and leaned in closer to hear.

“Just make sure you’re home on time. Your mother will — ”

“I know, I know,” Laurel interrupted. “She’ll have a fit.”

“And Laurel, I don’t want you on that houseboat, do you understand? I don’t want you getting into a situation you can’t handle.”

James felt his mouth go dry. Torn between feeling offended and feeling guilty, he couldn’t honestly say he hadn’t thought about bringing her to the boat — and for the very reason her father was warning her against it.

“Dad, we’re going to town to see a movie. It will be fine.”

There was no response.

“James would never hurt me, Dad. Never.”

“I hope you’re right, daughter.”

“I am right. You don’t need to worry.” Her voice grew louder as she approached the swinging door next to his ear, and James stepped away before she could catch him eavesdropping.

“Change of plans.” Laurel smiled, but her eyes were serious. “Can you meet me at the top of the hill instead of the boat?”

“Sure. What — ?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

* * *

James climbed into the passenger seat of the pickup, and Laurel stepped on the gas and squealed out of the parking lot.

“Whoa there!” He put a hand on the dash to steady himself.

She shot him a blazing glare, making his heart pound with an unexpected burst of excitement, but then her eyes softened, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Dad kind of ticked me off tonight. I guess I’m still a little miffed.”

“Miffed? The woman’s ‘a little miffed.’ Miffed about what?”

“He said . . . ” She paused, thinking, but then she just shrugged, looking a little petulant. “Nothing.”

Laurel drove up to the main highway and stopped. A lone car went past, and they were wreathed in darkness once again, with only the streetlight to illuminate them. She didn’t turn onto the road, though. Instead, she turned to him and searched his face as if looking for an answer to one of life’s big questions. After a few seconds, she spoke, her voice becoming stronger with each word. “I don’t feel much like a movie, do you?”

“Um, okay.”

“Let’s take a drive instead.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Where to?”

“I know a place, around the other side of the lake. It’s nice . . . quiet. We can sit by the water and look at the stars.”

“Fine by me,” he agreed, wondering what this was all about.

“I put some beer in a cooler and brought some blankets for us to sit on.”

“Where’d you get beer?”

“Dad’s stash.”

“Won’t he miss it?”

“I’ll just give him some money and tell him I sold it. He’ll never know the difference.”

They drove in silence for a good twenty minutes.

“How far away is this place?”

“We’re almost there.”

She pulled the truck into a path that led off the one-lane road and into a grove of trees. Without a word, she put the truck in park, turned it off and got out. He watched her walk to the back and pull out a knapsack and a cooler.

“How about a little help here?”

He got out and took the cooler from her hand.

“What’s in there?’ He pointed at the bag she was holding.

“Blankets and . . . things.” She turned on a flashlight and began walking.

He followed her into the brush, breaking twigs and ducking under branches as they went. “Are you sure you know where you’re going? This looks like something straight out of a horror movie. I’m expecting Freddy Kruger or Jason to join our outing any time now.”

She laughed. “Yes, Buckeye, I know where I’m going. Just wait for it. It’s right over . . . ”

They stepped through the last row of trees and brush and into the moonlight.

“Here.”

James was speechless for a second. It was beautiful, idyllic — even romantic. Grass gave way to soft, silt-like sand, and several feet beyond that, the dark water lapped in quiet waves against the shore. He could see the marina lights twinkling across the lake, and a million stars of every degree of brightness littered the sky. The moon lent a soft shimmering light that reflected off the water.

“Amazing spot, sweetheart. How did you ever find it?”

“Exploring on my own last summer.”

She dug a blanket out of the canvas duffle and spread it out over the grass. As she sat, her shoes came off and she lined them up beside the blanket. She hooked her long arms around her bent knees and laid her chin on them.

Setting the cooler down, James dropped down beside her and kicked off his own shoes. He pulled out two beers, opened one for Laurel and kept the other for himself.

“Good ole’ Budweiser,” he sighed.

She tilted her bottle up and took several swallows all at once, while he looked on in surprise. He had seen Laurel drink a beer before, but he’d yet to see her guzzle one. She lowered her drink and turned to face him.

“James?”

“Mm-hmm?” he said, taking a swig.

“I want you to make love with me tonight.”

He sputtered and somehow managed to swallow the beer in his mouth before he spit it out.

“What?”

She looked across the lake away from him. “Please, don’t make me say it again.” Her voice was softer now and less sure. He put his drink down, took hers from her, and grasped both of her hands in his. He looked in her eyes, and saw love and sincerity — and apprehension — in them.

“You don’t have to do this because I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I’m not doing this because you’re leaving . . . well, not entirely because you’re leaving.”

“You don’t seem too sure about it.” He slid over beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leaning his head against hers. “I want to . . . ” he whispered, kissing her ear. “God knows I want to.” He felt her shiver against him. “But you don’t have to do this to ‘keep’ me or whatever stupid thing girls think about guys.” He turned her face to his. “I love you, Laurel. I’ve never said that to any other girl — never wanted to say it. You are what I love, and nothing that happens or doesn’t happen tonight will change that one way or the other.”

“And that’s why I want to, and why I want it to be with you.”

Well, hell . . . Who was he to argue with that? She obviously knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t like he had a problem with it. “Laurel . . . ” he whispered, before his lips met hers in a sweet, devouring kiss. He eased her back onto the blanket and ran his hand from her shoulder to her hip and back to rest on her belly.

“Are you sure about doing this out here?” he murmured to her. “You might be more comfortable on the boat . . . ”

“No, not the boat. Half the girls I know who lost their virginity did it on a houseboat. Too cliché.”

He chuckled at her spirit. She had been thinking about this for a while. “Okay then — not the boat.”

She looked up, eyes round. “I want to, but James . . . ”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m afraid . . . just a little.”

He trailed kisses down her neck and below her ear. “Don’t be afraid. Just tell me what you want.”

Her voice was small and tentative. “I don’t know what I want.”

He froze, almost panicked for a second, but as he looked at her, he felt his pulse slow and his breathing calm, and his inner knight-in-shining-armor kicked in. He called up confidence and bravado from some long-subdued part of his past and promised himself he would bring her out safe and happy on the other side of this, although he didn’t know exactly how. The challenge was spine tingling, like walking on a tightrope above a ravine. He felt reckless and daring — and a little nervous himself. She was so precious and so worth all the care he could give her. He took in a deep breath and expelled it slowly.

“I know what you want, Laurel.” He was amazed at how confident his voice sounded. “And I’m going to make sure you have it.”

She nodded.

He started at the top of her head, pressed a gentle kiss to her hairline, and worked his way to her mouth. He lingered there while he drew a finger over her bare arm and pulled her to him in rhythmic tugs. He kissed her throat and smiled when she made a little whimper. When he got to the v-neck of her t-shirt, he sat her up gently and pulled it over her head. She reached behind her back for her bra hook, but he stopped her.

“Not yet. Let’s leave that alone for now.” He stripped off his own shirt and nearly groaned out loud when her long delicate fingers ran down his rib cage and slid under the waistband of his jeans just an inch or two. He took hold of them and shut his eyes. “Let’s leave that alone for now, too.”

He eased her down and took a long look at her. Red waves of silk radiated from behind her head in every direction. Her white skin was luminous in the moonlight, her breasts covered in virginal white lace.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered. He saw her embarrassment, even in the dim light of the moon, and he smiled. “What I mean is every part of you is designed to go with every other part. You’re the perfect incarnation of you.” He leaned over and nibbled at the pulse throbbing in her throat before running his tongue along her collarbone and just inside the inner edge of her bra till his mouth rested between her breasts. She arched her back and her moan reverberated from her chest into his lips. He drew his fingers down over her stomach, feeling it move up and down as she gasped. One finger slipped under the button on her cutoffs and he undid them in one smooth motion, drawing down the zipper and laying the fly open. The white cotton of her panties peeked out from underneath. He kissed right below her belly button and took a little nip at the hipbone jutting out.

“James?” She breathed. “What are you . . . ?”

He slipped his hands inside her shorts and drew them down, exposing her skin to the night air and his hungry eyes. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘Trust me’?”

She giggled, actually giggled out loud, and his heartbeat flared and pounded in his veins for a minute. He sat beside her, simply staring at her in wonder, before reaching under her to unhook the last bit of clothing and drawing the straps down her arms.

The beauty of her body beckoned him, but he found himself unable to tear his gaze from her face, intense and exquisite. Her eyes were like arrows, hot pokers stabbing inside his chest. Lying down beside her, he drew one hand along her inner thigh and her eyes slid shut, releasing him from her gaze and allowing him a respite so he could concentrate on the rest of her. As his fingers slipped between her legs, she started to cry out and self-consciously covered her mouth with her hand.

“Yell all you want, darling,” he murmured. “No one can hear you but me.”

His touch coaxed her further into delirium, and he whispered roughly, “Let it go, Laurel. It’s all right, just let go.”

She broke then, her arms reaching above her head, grasping the blanket in her fingers — arching and sighing and writhing in movements so erotic, he had to drop his head and close his eyes to keep from losing control of himself. He felt as if he’d run ten miles, and he gulped the warm, humid, night air as if he were drowning. He kissed her softly and whispered sweet nothings to her, and while she recovered, he slipped a condom out of his wallet and doffed his button-fly Levi’s.

He looked up to find her watching him, interest and trepidation warring on her features.

“Still afraid?”

Her eyes darted up to his face. “No,” she said quickly, and then she let out a nervous throaty laugh. “I mean, not much.”

He lay down, facing her and held her close. She kissed him on the mouth in acquiescence, and he pulled her on top of him.

“What — ?”

“I know what you want, remember? Trust me.”

“Famous last words.”

He smiled at her bravado. “Mountain Laurel, you’re one in a million.” His gaze narrowed in on her. “Damn, this is going to feel so good.” He guided her with his hands, pausing when she gasped with a quick intake of air. “Take your time. You know what to do.” He moved her hips in a barely perceptible rhythm, which she slowly began to take over. His eyes closed, and he let himself sink into the warm, urgent cadence, shuddering as he felt his tenuous control slipping away. Somewhere in the middle of it, he realized she was losing her restraint too, and he wanted to shout in primal triumph as the world exploded in a white-hot burst of light. While the resulting embers faded and floated away, he felt a tear slide from the outer corner of his eye. He brought his hands up under the red curtain of her hair to hold her forehead against his. His voice came out low, smooth and sure. “I will always love you, Laurel Elliot. Always.”