Find Wonder in All Things

chapter 7


Christmas Day

Fat snowflakes flew across the windshield of James’s Toyota Corolla as he snaked along the interstate curves leading to the mountains. His cheeks were tight and drawn from where he’d swiped away tears, and his jaw hurt from clenching it for the last hundred miles. He was almost there — almost to the closest thing he had to a home now. And it wasn’t a place, although the place was part of it. His home was now a person — a person with flaming red hair, dark blue eyes, and a smile that made all his troubles fade and his worries disappear. Laurel.

He only hoped she would be there. They had been planning this interlude since October. Her weekly letters kept him abreast of the progress on her cabin, and the last one said the place was done — not fancy — but livable, and she was planning to spend her Christmas break there. She asked him to join her, and he said yes, but the plans were for him to arrive day after next. There was no phone — no way to reach her to say he was coming early.

He still had a key to the Pendletons’ boat in case her place wasn’t an option, but he really hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. The boat would provide shelter, but shelter wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted comfort. He wanted Laurel.

The car in front of him fishtailed in the snow, reminding him to pay attention to the rapidly deteriorating road conditions. According to the radio, the worst of the storm wouldn’t hit until sometime around midnight, but he knew the snow would probably be heavier in the mountains. Once he made it to the cabin, he’d be up there for a while.

What would she say when he got there? Would she be shocked? Happy to see him? Would she see the anguish in him right away, or would he have to tell her the whole story before she understood?

Wipers stuttered over the windshield, the rough sound of rubber against dry glass. The exit sign for the lake shone like a green beacon in the dark. He signaled and changed lanes, and soon he was on the two-lane road that wound its way to Elliot’s Marina. Luckily, the snow had slacked off some although it was still hard to see. Somehow, he found the drive that led down to the dock. There were a few lights on there, and a few more a little farther up the main road that marked the entrance to the Elliot family home. He could see smoke from their fire swirling above the trees in thin wisps. He drove on, creeping along the road so he wouldn’t end up in the ditch. The cabin’s gravel drive was almost completely obscured by snow, but miraculously, he found it in the dark. He shifted down into first gear, but his car ended up stuck anyway in the steep driveway about a hundred yards from the house.

He revved his engine a time or two but the wheels just spun in place. The old car wasn’t going any farther, so he grabbed his duffel and his guitar from the trunk, wound his scarf around his neck, and trudged through the falling snow. As he stepped through the last row of trees and into the clearing, he caught a glimpse of the cabin, and his heart leapt. There were lights on, and smoke drifted from the chimney. Someone was there! Desperate optimism made him believe it was Laurel and Virginia.

Hoisting his bag on his shoulder, James walked up the steps, pulling down his scarf so she would recognize him, and set his burden on the porch floor. He opened the screen and knocked on the wooden door behind it. The curtain slid over the sidelight for a second and then jerked back closed. The door flew open and there she stood, wide-eyed and wonderful.

“James!”

He tried to answer her, but words stuck in his throat. He held his arms open, and Laurel filled them. A thankful groan escaped him, and he held her to him as if he would never let go.

* * *

James sat in the corner of Laurel’s little couch, admiring her form as she approached. Her hair was pulled back and tied low on her neck, draping over one shoulder. She wore an ivory fisherman sweater and jeans tucked into brown suede boots. She looked warm and comfortable walking toward him, holding out a steaming mug of tea.

“Sorry, there’s no coffee. I don’t drink it very often, so I don’t keep any here.”

“This is fine,” he said, nodding his thanks to her. “It’s hot, which is the most important thing right now.”

“I didn’t hear you coming. Where’s your car?”

“It’s stuck about halfway up the driveway.”

She sat in the other corner of the couch and wrapped both hands around her cup. “I bet it was a cold walk.”

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “Where’s Virginia?” He looked around for evidence of the older sister.

“She’s gone back to school early. She rented an apartment up there, and I think Stu might come down from Cincinnati and visit her over break.”

“Ah.”

“You want a sandwich or something? I brought some ham up from Mom and Dad’s house.”

“No, thank you — not right now.” He set his cup on the coffee table and reached for hers, putting it on the table next to his. “Come here so I can say hello properly.”

She laughed and slid over, wrapping her long arms around his neck. “Hello,” she whispered, and kissed him on the lips. He sank into the kiss, pulling her to him and willing her mouth to open under his. He pulled the tie off her hair and ran his fingers through the long, shining, red locks, settling his hand on the back of her head to hold her securely in place. The pent-up emotions of the past twenty-four hours unraveled inside him, and his desperation to make a connection with her was overwhelming. He moaned her name, inching his hands under her sweater.

“Oooh, your hands are cold.”

“Let me warm them on you.” He moved in to kiss her again, and she caught his face in her hands and pulled back to look at him.

“James?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“This visit is a bit of a surprise. You’re here early.”

“Wanted to see you.”

“Mm-hmm. Wanted to see you too.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“When are you going to tell me what’s happened?”

“What do you mean?” he answered, not wanting to talk about it when he was all charged up for other reasons.

“You look . . . happy, yet unhappy — happy that you’re here, but unhappy about something . . . something big . . . something that brought you here two days early.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to go into it just yet.”

She studied him for a moment. Then she shrugged. “You’re the boss, Jim Dandy.” She turned so her back was to his chest and leaned against him, pulling his arm around her. “So, do you want to hear about my Christmas?”

He nestled her head under his chin and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, her skin, all of her. He felt his pulse quicken but his body relax, which didn’t seem possible, but there it was. “Go on.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “The whole Elliot crew gathered round the family homestead for the holiday. My mother planned this elaborate dinner to celebrate Christmas and Ginny and me coming home from school. It was the perfect Christmas feast — ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, rolls, and green beans with ham hocks.”

James shuddered, and she laughed at him. “Buckeye.”

“Hillbilly.”

“Anyway, to go on with my story . . . It was going to be quite a to-do.” She ran her hand down his arm as she might stroke the spine of a cat. James almost purred.

“But then, the big Christmas Day arrives” — she paused — “and Mom spends all day in her room crying.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“So, Virginia and I made the dinner. We fix Mom a plate and take it in to her. We open the presents without her, and then late this afternoon, Ginny says she’s done and heads back to Lexington. It’s supposed to snow, and suddenly I can’t stand the thought of being trapped in that house anymore. So I leave my brothers playing on their new Nintendo and Spring with her nose in a book, pack up some leftovers, and hightail it out of there.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“So here’s my question: when I run off up here, what makes me any different than Mom running off to her room? Don’t you think we’re both hiding?”

“No, it’s different, Laurel.”

“How?”

“You’re still changing, still growing, still doing new things — you’re going to school, you’re working on this cabin. Trust me; it’s different than crying in bed all day. You know that.”

“She wasn’t always like this, you know. I mean, she was always quiet and shy, but not like this.” Laurel’s voice became very soft. “What if that happens to me too? When I get older?”

“It won’t.”

“You sound so sure of that.”

“You won’t do that. You’re going to get off this mountain and go out there and do something incredible.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. You make anything seem possible.” She snuggled deeper into him, and they sat in silence for several minutes, contented in the closeness and the quiet. James felt his lids drooping, and he fought the urge to sleep. He didn’t drive all this way to crash on Laurel’s couch. He wanted her — had been waiting for her these four months — but in spite of himself and without realizing what he was doing, he slipped into the welcome oblivion of exhausted slumber.