Find Wonder In All Things (14 page)

“Yeah?”

“Good morning, slacker. It’s almost noon.”

“Jesus, Eric . . . ”

“No it’s just plain Eric. Get up and get some coffee. I’ll be over in an hour, and we’ll take a run.”

The phone clicked, and James swore.

He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt. He remembered his running shoes were still downstairs, so he grabbed some socks and slowly descended, yawning widely.

While the coffee was brewing, he stepped out on the front stoop to grab the paper. The new neighbor across the street opened her door at almost the same moment.

“Good morning!” she called, waving to him.

“Good morning,” he replied. She looked like she was about to come out and start a conversation, so he turned and went back in without delay. She was nice enough — recently divorced, kind of attractive — but the last thing he needed right then was woman trouble.

Maybe it was time to move on, head off somewhere else. Seattle, maybe? Or Phoenix? Somewhere back East perhaps. No, he had cut his final ties there and become a permanent West Coast man five years earlier. Going back to school was a smart move, probably the best decision he ever made once he knew what he wanted to study. California had the added bonus of being closer to Susan and Gary who had been so good to him since he’d left home for keeps. Because of his estrangement from his parents, they were the only family he had left . . . well, them plus Eric and Millie, and John and Fiona. They were some of the best friends he’d ever had, and they were family to him too. Sometimes he missed Stuart, his best friend from childhood, but even before he left Tennessee, they hadn’t been together much anyway. Maybe it was inevitable — what life did to their friendship, how it pulled them apart — but a lot of that probably had to do with who Stuart married.

Stu and Ginny wanted him to be an usher at their wedding, but the idea of meeting up with Laurel Elliot again, even two years after their breakup, was extremely unappealing to him. He didn’t think he could contain his anger if he saw her again, and what good would that do any of them? The die had been cast. So, he begged off groomsman’s duties, giving Stuart some lame excuse about finals’ week. He didn’t even attend as a guest.

James ambled into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and headed into his study. On the antique secretary desk rested the charcoal sketch that Eric had commented on.
Why do I keep that thing around?
He stepped over and picked it up, holding it over the trash can in a moment of indecision. There had been several moments like this over the years. His heart gave the familiar momentary squeeze when he thought of Laurel— her long, jeans-clad legs, flaming red hair in a braid down her back, brilliant dark blue eyes, her amazing smile. But as always, the recurring anger quickly covered the fond memories.
Sentimental rubbish, Marshall
.
You only think about her because you couldn’t have her. Maybe she wasn’t what you wanted anyway. One thing was painfully obvious though: she sure as hell didn’t want you.

Like a speeding car spinning out of control, the memory of the last time he saw her roared into his mind. Could it really have been all those years ago? Sometimes it still pissed him off as if it had just happened last week . . .

* * *

He turned into the familiar, gravel drive and began the long trek up to Laurel’s little cabin. She had done some work on it since she’d been home from college. There was a new coat of paint on the outside, and shutters now adorned the windows. He felt the draw of the place, the draw of her, and the rapid pace of his heart began to slow. It was like the whole world slowed down when he was there. He hoped she was home, but in this, as in so many other things that day, he was disappointed.

He found her in her father’s little office at the marina, working on a ledger of some sort. He walked in without knocking and shut the door behind him.

She looked up, blue eyes wide in momentary shock at the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin.

“James?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” He leaned over the table and kissed her, but it was a business-like peck on the lips rather than the all-consuming kiss that was inside him waiting to be unleashed.

“Why are you here?”

“I wrote you I was coming. Did I beat the letter here? I really wish you’d get a phone up at the cabin.”

“No, I got it — the letter, I mean. I just . . . ” She looked out the window. “I just hoped you’d think better of it and not come after all.”

“How could I not come? First of all, I find it impossible to believe that you would dump me through the mail without even the courtesy of a face-to-face discussion. You don’t have a callous bone in your body, so I assume that somebody got to you. Is it your father? Your mother? What have they said to convince you that we shouldn’t be together? Tell me, so I can refute it and relieve your mind.”

“James, it isn’t just what they said. It’s the whole situation.”

“I promise you, we can make this work. I can do anything if you’re beside me. I’ve been composing a ton of songs the past few months. They just keep rolling off my fingers, and I’ve gotten more jobs as a studio musician too. I’m learning about recording and mixing music from other musicians. Yeah, I’m not going to college, but I know that all this experience is going to pay off in the end. It won’t be a hand-to-mouth existence forever. Tell your parents
that
if they’re worried about it.”

“I don’t care about living on a shoestring, but you’ll be at work all day and out at clubs all night, and I’ll be alone in a strange city.”

“So you’ll come with me to the clubs. Look, I know you. You’re not some kind of pampered princess, Laurel. You can roll with the ups and downs of being with a musician, and I’m not worried about you taking on any challenge we face. I’ve seen you handle everything life has thrown your way. You’ve never backed off from what you want, and after everything we’ve meant to each other, I can’t believe breaking up is what you want. Don’t run away from this — from us. We’re meant to be together.”

She was near tears. “Please don’t say these things. It just makes it worse . . . ”

“I need you, and I love you, and that’s why I drove all this way to talk some sense into you!” He paced back and forth in the little office and stopped in front of her, holding out his hand. “Come for a drive with me so we can talk.”

Her expression was hidden, wary. It unsettled him the way she retreated behind that frozen façade. It looked too much like her mother’s face; the lack of animation made her look like a mannequin. Her eyes darted to the office window, and he followed her gaze to see her father looking in on them with an unusually stern expression. What a time for the man finally to act paternal!

“We’ll go to our little clearing by the lake.” His heart beat faster just thinking about the idea of being alone with her. “We’ll have some privacy there.”

Her eyes blazed dark blue for a brief moment, and then the cold, blank stare was back. She looked down at the papers on her desk.

“We can talk here, although there isn’t much else to say. I can’t move to Nashville with you.”

“Yes, you can. You just won’t — and I’m here to find out why.”

The blank stare was gone, finally, but her crestfallen expression was sad in a way he’d never seen before. “It’s impossible. I can’t leave school.”

“But you can! I’ve told you; there are other schools — good schools — around Nashville.”

“Not where I have work-study already lined up. Not schools that I can afford. My parents have no money for college, James. This is my only chance to get an education.”

“People make their own chances. There’s always another way if you want something badly enough.”

She sighed. “Not for me.”

Anger boiled up inside him at the defeated tone in her voice. “Those are your mother’s words. What on Earth did she say to you?”

“The truth,” she said sullenly.

“Oh, really! And what is the truth according to the Hermit on the Hill?”

“That leaving school now would be a terrible mistake — that this whole plan is crazy — and I won’t let you provoke me about my mother. This isn’t about her.”

“Bullshit!” he hissed. “This is all about her and him.” He gestured toward her father, still watching through the glass. “When is it going to be about you, Laurel? Sometimes you have to stand up for what you want!”

“I can’t . . . ” she whispered. “I’m not like you. I can’t just pick up and leave everything I’ve ever known without a second thought. Why can’t you understand that?”

He decided to change tactics. Something inside him screamed that this was one of the big Crossroads of life — with a capital C — for both of them. He had to change her mind or at least make her see what she was giving up. He gentled his voice and tried again. “I know it’s a big step, darling, but it will work — I know it.” He sat on the desk and covered her hand with his, trying to intertwine their fingers.

“I know you believe that, but it’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it — ”

“No,” she interrupted him, “it’s not.” She jerked her hand back and folded her arms protectively across her chest. “Have you considered that me tagging along is not in your best interest either?”

“How can you say that? How could being without you ever be in my best interest? I love you. What could be more important than that? And you love me.”

She said nothing.

“Don’t you?”

Her face was frozen in place. An icy cold wind whipped around his heart in spite of the hot, July day. He waited a long minute. “I see.”

She swallowed hard.

“Yes, I see now. Apparently, I’ve made a huge mistake coming here. In fact, I’ve made a complete ass of myself.” He shot her a withering look and turned his back on her as he put his hand on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder. “But you’ve made a mistake too, Laurel Elliot,” he said darkly, “and you’ll regret it. I promise you that.” He threw open the door and strode out.

Mr. Elliot followed him outside to the dock and called after him. “What did you say to my daughter, Marshall? She looks upset.”

James turned around, anger radiating from every pore in his skin. “You’re killing her spirit, you know, persuading her to stay here so she can be near you. It’s pure selfishness on your part. You’re keeping an exotic bird in a cage and expecting it to stay beautiful and brilliant. I’m telling you, it won’t work. She’ll end up a shadow of what she could have been. Sir.” The last word was smothered in sarcasm.

“And I suppose you’re the one who can save her from a horrible fate out here in the sticks,” Mr. Elliot said, his face contorted in anger. “I know your type. You’re a materialistic hothead, and you’d be the ruin of her. You’re all big plans and dreams, but you’re doing nothing but working a day job at a bottling plant. Go out and find your life, such as it is. Leave my daughter alone to find hers. She’s made her decision.”

“She made that perfectly clear. Good-bye, Mr. Elliot. Rest assured you won’t see me around here ever again.”

After that, James hardly knew how he made it to his car. He barely remembered any of the drive back to Nashville, except for thinking that then he knew what a broken heart felt like.

* * *

After Laurel cut him loose, he coped by forcing himself to think only of the future, and it had been effective. He threw himself into learning more about music. He went to college in California. Now, more than seven years later, James had constructed a new life for himself. A life that had taken twists and turns he never expected. He had embarked on more than one new adventure, striking out on his own time and again, and he had done well — succeeding beyond his wildest dreams — and Laurel had missed out on all of it.

He sighed and put the sketch back on the desk. It was beautiful work, and James was an artist of sorts too. He couldn’t bear to throw it away.

The doorbell rang. He turned his back on the picture, and went to answer it. Eric was jogging in place.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s pound some pavement.”

James rolled his eyes even though he returned Eric’s grin. They set off at a brisk pace, but after a while, James had trouble keeping up. His friend stole a look over at him.

“We’ll go through the park, and then we can turn back toward home. You doing okay, buddy? You seem a little sluggish today.”

“I’m just fine, Mom. I like a run in the morning,” he wheezed. “It clears my head.”

“Let’s walk a little and catch a breather.” Eric didn’t wait more than a minute before he dropped his latest bombshell.

“Laurel Elliot.”

“What about her, Eric?” James was immediately wary.

“She doesn’t have 2.3 kids, and she’s not married. Don’t know about the minivan though.”

“What?” James stopped, staring at his friend.

Eric stopped too and turned back, breathing hard from running. “She’s still in Kentucky — some place called Uppercross Hollow.”

“How do you know all this?”

“A miraculous entity called the Internet.”

“You little stalker . . . ”

“This is all according to a website from some forward-thinking craft fair in West Virginia back in the fall. They had a web page with artist bios listed on it.”