Find Wonder In All Things (24 page)

She got out a couple of coffee mugs and pulled out the teakettle. “I hope instant is okay. I don’t have a coffee maker because — ”

“Because you don’t drink much coffee,” he finished for her.

She smiled at him and crossed the room to the pantry door, standing on tiptoe to reach the jar of coffee at the back of the top shelf. She froze when she realized James was close behind her, his voice bathing her in warmth as he offered, “Here, let me get that.”

He leaned one hand on the door frame above her head, and she thought he would reach to get the coffee with the other, but . . .

His hand touched her shoulder and slid in a sinuous motion down her arm to her hand. He was close behind her now, so close she could feel his breath on her neck and the heat emanating from his body. He whispered her name, and she turned as if in slow motion. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and sweet at first, like honey, and as he pulled back, she opened her eyes. Her hand came up to caress his face and his eyes closed. Suddenly they popped open again, green like the trees that lined the lake, and then he yanked her toward him, covering her mouth in a fierce kiss that took her completely by surprise. He pressed against her and she could feel the hard planes of his body — well, everywhere.

He murmured her name between kisses, reverently — as if he were praying it.

“Laurel,” he breathed. “Laurel.”

“Sweet.” His lips traveled to her jaw, then to her neck. “Beautiful.” She braced herself in the door frame to keep him from pushing her into the pantry. “Want . . . ” he panted, “want so much . . . ” He kissed her again and she whimpered — a stunned, vulnerable sound. She was defenseless against her long-buried feelings for him, but when her voice penetrated his foggy mind, he froze. He pulled back, and with his eyes still closed, he groaned in frustration and slammed his palm against the door. The blow reverberated through the walls. She didn’t dare move.

“Damn it!” He turned his back on her and ran his hand over his face in consternation. “God, Laurel . . . I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry.” Without looking at her, he stalked out of the kitchen. The front door slammed, and the car motor roared as he sped away. Sliding down the wall, Laurel hugged herself into a little ball and buried her head in her arms. The knot inside her started loosening, and after that, her defenses unraveled at a frightening speed. Only then, did the sobs finally come.

* * *

The next morning, Laurel groaned and rolled toward the edge of the bed, pulled up and looked at the clock. Then she groaned again and fell back on her pillow. She dragged herself to the bathroom and showered. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face felt tight and stretched. Brittle and fragile, she felt as if she might shatter into a million pieces and simply drift away. She had no idea what she should be feeling, so instead, numbness prevailed.

Over tea and toast though, rational thinking began to seep in little by little. She replayed the previous night’s events in her mind, looking at them from every possible perspective. She and James had both been exhausted, physically and emotionally, and Heather’s accident had been a visceral reminder of life’s fragility. So they had sought each other’s company — old friends, old comforts; that made sense. That must have been why she invited him in. But then he kissed her, and oh, what a kiss it was! It felt like she was leaving her body and floating when he held her. And he whispered her name and called her beautiful and sweet. She could hear the words, and then “want . . . want . . . ” It had made her roar to life inside her lower belly.
Yes,
she thought,
I want too
. But then he left. Why? Was he feeling guilty because Heather was lying in a hospital bed while he was locking lips with her? Could there be something between him and Heather? As far as she knew, he’d never asked out either of the Pendleton girls, in spite of the fact that he’d been there almost a month and they had flirted with him almost nonstop. But neither could she deny he’d acted interested at times. And the way he reacted to Heather’s accident — how he blamed himself and had grown pale when he recounted how they might have lost her . . .

Or was she reading too much into it? She considered her own history with James. Never had he given her mixed signals back when they were together. She always knew what he wanted from her because he was bluntly obvious about it. But years had passed, and they’d both changed, and now she was having trouble reading him. Why had he stormed out without talking to her? Did he think she didn’t want him? Despite her recent attempts to convince herself otherwise, she realized now she’d always wanted him. Even though she wasn’t ready to upend her whole life and go with him all those years ago, it didn’t mean her feelings changed. After all that time, nothing had changed. It was so sad — pathetic. Oh, how she regretted that she’d found the love of her life when she was eighteen and didn’t have the discernment to realize it! And what now? Was it really too late?

She replayed the previous night one more time. She hadn’t exactly welcomed his advances with open arms. She was too exhausted, too shocked to respond the way she wanted with proper and genuine feeling. With sudden realization, she nearly dropped her mug.
He must have thought I didn’t want him to kiss me.
That’s why he said, ‘I’m sorry.’
Well, she damn sure wasn’t sorry, and she was going to make sure he knew it too! She left her breakfast on the table and practically ran out the door, pausing only to grab the keys to her Jeep.

The black rental car was nowhere to be seen when she arrived at James’s cabin. Her frantic knock echoed in the quiet morning air.

After a minute or so, she heard footsteps, and for a moment she wondered what in the world she was thinking to be pounding on his door at that time of the morning. When it opened finally, she was both relieved and disappointed to see John Benwick on the other side of the threshold.

“Oh, hey, Laurel. How are you this morning?” He took in her expression. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “But I need to see James. Is he here? Did he go to the hospital already?”

“Yeah, he left a couple of hours ago. He was going to stop at the hospital for a few minutes, and then he said he was leaving from there. I’m sure he’s gone by now.”

“Leaving?” she repeated. “Where’s he going? When’s he coming back?”

“He didn’t say. He’s driving up to see his parents today and flying back to California tomorrow.”

Laurel felt her blood run cold. “California? Tomorrow?” She cleared her throat in an attempt to control the wobble in her voice. “What about the cabin here?”

“He said he would deal with it later. It’s paid up through Labor Day. He asked if I’d stay and house-sit for him.”

“Oh,” she said in an absentminded way, “that’s nice, John.”

“Yes, it’s so peaceful here. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but I think the time away will be good for me — you know, communing with nature and all that. Maybe I’ll try a little writing.”

“I see.” Laurel felt a surge of panic in her breast. She had to get away before John saw her true feelings, but she didn’t want to hurt his. They had so much in common — favorite books and movies, a love of art, a certain reserve that people often misunderstood, and . . . the pain of a lost love. “I need . . . I need to go. I’m expected up at the hospital. Virginia wanted me to help her sit with Heather today.”

“Sure, I understand. Hey — are you sure you’re all right? You look upset.”

“Just tired. It was quite an ordeal yesterday.”

He nodded sagely. “It sure was. Tell Heather I said hello and I hope she’s feeling better. I’ll come and see her if she’s up to having visitors.”

“I’ll ask her. Umm . . . I’m going to go now.”

“Okay, talk to you soon.”

“Bye.” She hurried down the steps and almost ran to her Jeep. She had lied to John; she wasn’t going to the hospital right then. She couldn’t listen to the inevitable talk about James and speculation about his sudden departure without losing her mind. Nor could she go back to her cabin yet. His presence lingered there so strongly that she could almost see him standing in the kitchen and smell the aftershave he typically wore. How could this have happened? How could she have lost him again? No, she reminded herself — this time she never had him. She had made her decision long ago, and despite last night, there was no going back to what they were to each other then. There would be no second chance for Laurel Elliot and James Marshall after all.

She got behind the wheel of her Jeep and headed toward the only place that could bring her comfort. She went to the lake.

End of Part 2

Intermezzo 2

Laurel peered over the top of Café Livre’s lunch menu, scanning for her companion, who had just appeared in the doorway. The hostess pointed in her direction, and he nodded his head in recognition as he wound his way around the tables.

“Hi there. I’m not late, am I?” His quiet voice was barely audible over the restaurant crowd.

“Not a bit,” she replied. “I was a few minutes early.”

John Benwick unrolled his silverware and put his napkin in his lap. He leaned forward with a smile and asked, “How are things?”

“About like they were the last time we met. Things don’t change that fast around here.” She tilted her head and regarded him more closely. “You look good, John. I missed talking to you last week. Are you doing well?”

“Actually, yes.” He sat back and pushed his glasses up with his forefinger. “I have you to thank for it, too, because you were the one who told me about that grief counselor at the Hospice Center. I’m getting a lot out of those sessions. In combination with my writing and this amazing place, things are really starting to look up. I feel like maybe I turned a corner this week.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you.”

“I’ve even been out visiting a bit — you know, trying to be social.”

“Really? With who?”

“Oh, just folks from around the neighborhood there — Susan and Gary —you remember James’s sister and brother-in-law — and the Pendletons mostly.”

“I think they would be just the right kind of company. Stu is always so optimistic, and — ”

“And Virginia is kind to everybody, no matter what. And it’s been really good to get to know the Murtowskis this summer after hearing James talk about them all this time.”

“You can’t help but be cheerful around Susan and Gary. And Heather is so bubbly and fun. How is she? I haven’t talked to Ginny in a couple of weeks. She’s been so busy with everything.”

“The ankle’s healing — slowly. Cast comes off in about three or four weeks, I think.” He laughed, and Laurel marveled at how it changed his appearance. The brooding John Benwick vanished right before her eyes. He went on, chuckling. “She’s getting impatient with all the restrictions that come with a cast and crutches. There are all those stairs at Virginia and Stuart’s house, and she can’t get around very easily. When James called the other night, she got a little snappish with him.”

Laurel’s heart sank. “Oh? James has been calling pretty often then?”

“Every few days to check on her. He even sent her flowers and a ‘Welcome Home’ balloon when she got out of the hospital.” John shook his head, grinning. “James always takes responsibility for everything. Heather told me every time he calls, he apologizes all over again for letting her get hurt — or at least he did until the other night when she told him . . . How did it go again? Oh yeah, she said ‘It was my own fault if it was anyone’s, and I wish you’d just shut up about it already.’ That Heather — she’s something else.”

Laurel somehow summoned a weak smile and took a sip of water. “I was surprised she didn’t go back to Cincinnati after they released her from the hospital.”

“I guess her parents decided not to cut short their trip to Greece since she’s in good hands with Stuart and Virginia. I gather it was some kind of business trip, and it would be difficult to get away before the end of August. That’s a lot of responsibility on Stu and Ginny though. The dental office renovations are taking more time than they realized.”

“Those things usually do. But they have Carrie to help out.”

“I suppose, although Carrie’s leaving in a couple weeks. School’s starting soon, and she’s doing student teaching this year.

“But, boy, Heather can’t wait to get out of that cast. She’s anxious to start interviewing for jobs as soon as she can.”

“That’s right. She graduated this past spring. I forgot.”

The conversation paused while the waitress brought their plates.

“How are your mom and dad?” John asked, picking up his fork.

“They’re doing fine,” she lied. It had not been a good summer for the Elliots. Mrs. Elliot withdrew more and more, and she became even more a shell of the woman she once was, and Mr. Elliot barely managed to scrape by and hold on to his business. He was losing customers by the droves to the new marina on the other side of the lake. Somehow, he was able to make ends meet, mostly due to his illicit bootlegging operation, which was just as strong as ever.

“You still helping out with the books?”

“Oh, that’s a given.” She laughed. “I’ve been doing that for years now. Mostly I do the payroll. Dad prefers to order supplies and food from the distributors himself. That way he gets to talk to all his buddies.