Find Wonder In All Things (10 page)

“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.

Chapter 8

The next thing James knew, he was awakened by sunlight streaming in the window. He lay curled up on the couch, a patchwork quilt over him and a pillow under his head. He glanced around the empty, cold room and sat up in slow motion, stretching his arms over his head. First, he needed the bathroom. Second, he needed to find his toothbrush because his teeth felt like sandpaper.

The back door slammed, and a blast of frigid air hit him. Laurel appeared in the doorway, arms filled with wood, charmingly dressed in jeans and a thick barn jacket. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and her hair was mussed under a knit hat topped with an absurd pom-pom. She looked like a snow bunny.

“You’re awake,” she announced in a cheerful voice.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Hello, Beautiful.”

She blushed even rosier. “I started a fire.”

“Beautiful and accomplished,” he said, watching her with a secret little smile.

She rolled her eyes. “James, I’ve been building fires since I was ten.”

“All the more impressive.”

She looked at him in sober contemplation. “I’m going to put this wood in the stove, make some tea and oatmeal for breakfast, and then I want you to stop trying to distract me with silly compliments — although they’re much appreciated — and tell me what’s going on with you, okay?”

He sighed. “Okay.” He got up and opened his duffle. “Shower?”

She pointed down the hall.

“Come with me?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, only half joking.

“You haven’t seen the shower yet. I doubt we could both fit.”

“Be back shortly.”

She walked over and put her arms around him, hugging him close. “I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered. He kissed her and disappeared into the hall.

She was right about the shower. It was barely big enough to turn around in. James washed in a hurry and jumped out, shivering in the cold as he donned his clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair and decided he’d shave later. When he entered the kitchen, Laurel was setting the table with two bowls and mismatched spoons. A carton of milk, some sugar and cinnamon, and a teapot made an unpretentious centerpiece.

Then she turned, spoon in hand, and gave him a smile as brilliant as sun on snow.

He sat down and picked up his cup while she spooned out the oatmeal.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” he began.

She set the spoon down in the pan, her face awash in concern and sympathy. “Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. I knew things were bad, but it all came to a head yesterday when my mother told me that my father has been having an affair for the last ten months.” He dumped two large spoonfuls of sugar on his cereal.

“Oh . . . oh, James.” She reached over and grasped his hand. He dared a look up at her, but he saw no shock, no disdain, no censure there — only compassion.

“I guess she’s known a while now, but she wanted us to have one last Christmas as a family. Apparently, the other woman didn’t like that, so she called the house, complaining that Dad had promised to come over to see her yesterday, but he couldn’t because Mom insisted he stay around while I was home. She goes on to ask Mom what was the point of making him stay for the holiday since Mom already agreed to the divorce.

“So, there’s a huge blow-up. Mom is furious with Dad. She said she just asked for one little thing for my sake, and he ruined it like he ruins everything.

“Given the state of their marriage, a divorce is probably for the best. They’ve been estranged for three or four years. But he should have been man enough to ask for one in the first place instead of sneaking around like a coward.

“After the cat was out of the bag, Mom threw him out, and he went to what’s-her-name’s house after all. Then he calls me a few hours later and proceeds to tell me there’s no money for my tuition or room and board this semester. Nothing. He said he
was
going to break it to me gently, but when Mom threw him out, she took that option away from him. He accused her of overspending his income.”

“Wow,” Laurel mused, shaking her head.

“Dad says he can’t pay my college bill in addition to Mom’s alimony. He said plenty of other things too, but the gist of the conversation was, ‘You’re on your own for the bill.’”

“He actually said that?”

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t give him a chance to say it. I just hung up.”

“Maybe you should have let him explain,” she answered, her voice small and tentative.

James rolled his eyes. “Explain what? How he made a mess of my life? How he ruined our family? What’s the point of listening to that?”

“I know you’re angry, but he might have had a helpful suggestion or two about school.”

“You don’t know my dad. He doesn’t give helpful suggestions, just ultimatums. It’s his way or the highway.”

“Well, what are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“I don’t know. Dad says I’m twenty years old, and it’s time to start standing on my own two feet. I have a little money, but not near enough. I’ve never been too good about saving, and it’s not like I had any warning or time to prepare. Maybe there’s enough for tuition, I don’t know, but I can’t apply for a student loan in time to pay my rent, so it looks like I’m sitting out at least a semester.”

James let go of her and picked up his spoon, weaving it between his fingers. He leaned his chair back on two legs. “After Dad and I hung up, Mom demanded to know what he said, and when I told her, she accused him of wasting their money on his whore — and yes, that was the word she used.

Laurel stirred her oatmeal in a slow, thoughtful circle. “Can you commute from home to the university?”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to be anywhere near my parents right now — either of them.”

Their eyes met, but she didn’t comment further except for a reassuring smile.

* * *

After breakfast, they ventured outside to dig out James’s car and drove down the mountain — slipping, sliding, and laughing the whole way. They arrived at the IGA about eleven o’clock. Because Christmas Day was on a Tuesday, the day after was just another workday for the stores in town. They picked up coffee for James and groceries for a week or so, gathering items for quick entrees or for meals that made good leftovers. James made a stop at the drugstore, too, under the guise of needing some shaving cream.

“They sell that at the grocery store,” she insisted. “Why didn’t you just pick some up while we were there?”

“Umm . . . I forgot. You can wait. I’ll just pop in here real quick.” And he was out before she could protest. He wasn’t sure what the week ahead would bring, but it would be a lot less awkward if he didn’t have to run down the mountain for contraception in the middle of a moment. He tossed the bag in the back seat, and gave her a lopsided grin as he put the car in gear and backed out of the parking lot.

By three o’clock, they were back in the cabin, James’s car safely ensconced under the carport roof. He rebuilt the fire while she stocked the pantry. When he finished, she was already curled up on the couch with a sketchpad, her feet folded underneath her, working intently. He picked up a book he found lying around and settled himself in the leather chair by the window.

After reading the same paragraph again and again, James gave up, shut the book and came around the back of the couch to look over her shoulder. She had sketched a decent rendering of him reading in the chair, a distant smile on his face. He kissed her cheek. “I think I like it when you draw me.”