Find Wonder In All Things (19 page)

Mrs. Elliot sighed and put down her dishrag. She took the towel from Laurel and dried her hands, then took her daughter’s hands in her own and led her to the kitchen table.

“I know you think you understand everything. You’ve basically raised yourself since you were seven years old. By the time you were twelve, I didn’t think I had anything left to teach you. But I know something about this, so please, please hear me out.”

Laurel said nothing, but she nodded reluctantly.

“I’ve been where you are now, Mountain Laurel. I met someone when I was eighteen years old. It was 1968. They called it the ‘summer of love’ . . . Well, it certainly was for me. I was waiting tables, planning to go to college in the fall. He had just graduated college and was staying here with his uncle and aunt for the summer. He was going to graduate school to be a professor. Almost every morning, he came in to the diner where I worked — got a cup of coffee and a stack of hotcakes and sausage.” Mrs. Elliot’s eyes were far away, remembering. “That man was everything I thought I wanted: handsome and friendly and smart. I was so shy and quiet; he seemed perfect for me. Lord, I was a fool for him. We had this incredible whirlwind romance. When the summer was over, I discovered I was pregnant.”

Laurel sat, shaking her head in disbelief. That smitten, naïve girl her mother described just couldn’t be the tired, haggard-looking woman sitting in front of her now.

“I didn’t know what to do, but he
said
we should get married. I asked him about his graduate school, and he
said
he’d go back after a couple of years. I was worried about my college, but he
said
when the baby got older, I could finish school.

“As you’ve probably already figured out, that man was your father. That baby was Virginia Bluebell. The years went by, and he never went back and neither did I, and it became pretty obvious that neither of us was going anywhere when I got pregnant with you. So I gave up on the idea, but your father was always dreaming about what he was going to do next. He read a hundred books, talked to dozens of people ‘in the know,’ made all sorts of plans and promises, but in the end, it all came to nothing. When his uncle died and left him this broken-down marina, he promised things would get better, but I’ve lived this hand-to-mouth existence ever since. So you see, what they
say
doesn’t mean anything, Laurel.

“Is this what you want? Look around you. Do you want to end up like me?”

“Is it so awful being you?”

Her mother held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity. “Yes,” she said simply. “Yes, it is.”

Laurel’s eyes filled with tears.

“Finish your education, Laurel. Don’t follow this boy on a crazy path to nowhere. You might think you love him, but you can’t live on love. The only person you can rely on is yourself.”

* * *

The pot toppled over on the wheel. Snorting in frustration, Laurel scooped up the clay and smashed it into a blob before throwing the whole mess away.

If only she had met James when she was a senior in college instead of a freshman. If only his parents hadn’t gotten a divorce and he had stayed in Dayton or kept in touch with Stu. If only she had been brave enough to defy her parents’ wishes. If only she had known he was planning to leave Tennessee. If only, if only, if only . . .

If only he had asked her — just one more time.

The sorrow of it made her sick to her stomach. It seemed as though their love was jinxed at every turn, and all the wrong things had happened at the worst times. Why couldn’t her life ever work out for the best? And why, when she’d managed to carve out a bearable existence for herself, did he have to show up in the middle of it and remind her of everything she lost?

She put on her day hikers and punched open the screen door. This desperate sadness inside her now was the reason she never told anyone about James, and a stab of resentment tore through her that Virginia’s questions had just made her relive it all. She chose a path that would take her through the woods. A nice long walk would help her get her head together. Then perhaps she could be productive for the rest of the afternoon.

Chapter 16

Laurel decided to take her brothers and her sister Spring with her to the annual Woodland Arts Festival. Dylan always enjoyed the woodworking booths, Spring loved the jewelry, and of course Crosby loved to talk to anybody and everybody about the beautiful and competitively-priced building lots down by the lake that just happened to be listed by his real estate company.

All kinds of vendors attended the festival, great local food was available, and it brought together many local artists. Since it was only about an hour’s drive from home, Laurel brought a few crates of her pottery, as well as a few of the brochures Crosby had designed for her. She hoped that attending this year would have the added bonus of taking her mind off James Marshall.

But it was not to be. Laurel had no sooner set up her booth and sent Spring off to get a couple of sodas, when she turned to find a woman standing at the next booth looking at her name with interest. While her companion, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a crew cut, talked to the wood-burning artist next door, the woman approached her.

“Good morning,” Laurel began, smiling.

“Good morning. Your work is beautiful.”

“Thank you. Is there something in particular I can show you?”

“Something for my brother, I think.” She chuckled. “He’s just moved into a new house down the road from us. It’s a temporary arrangement, and I’m trying to get him to stick around permanently. Do you think a house-warming present for a single man is a bad idea?”

“Hmm,” Laurel replied. “Let’s see. A bachelor might use a big bowl — you know, for chips or pretzels or something. You could get a smaller bowl to hold dip. It would be sort of a set.”

“That’s a marvelous idea.”

“I think I might have something back here.” She stepped around the table and looked through a couple of crates. “Ah, here it is. And there’s a small one just like it on the shelf there.”

The woman took the bowl and turned it in her hands. “Yes, it’s lovely and good quality too. Just like the potter.” The woman’s eyes twinkled in her tanned face. “You’re Laurel, aren’t you?”

“I am. I’m sorry, but have we met?”

The woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “Not exactly, but I do feel as if I know you from your sister Virginia’s description and — ” She held out her hand. “I’m Susan. Susan Murtowski. My husband and I met your sister when we were buying our house on the lake. Of course, I’ve known her husband, Stuart, for years — since we were kids really. He’s my little brother’s oldest friend.”

Laurel’s eyes flew open wide. “You’re Susan Marshall,” she stammered, “I mean Murtowski, of course. Yes, Ginny told me about meeting you, and James said — ” She broke off, her stomach dropping. “He said you were living in the area now.”

So, this was James’s beloved sister. Now that she looked more closely, Laurel could see a family resemblance in the green eyes and the engaging smile. She took a deep breath and shook Susan’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Susan’s laugh had a musical lilt to it. “Right back at you. I’ve been waiting quite a while to make your acquaintance, although to tell the truth, we actually have met before.”

Laurel tilted her head and smiled, confused. “We have?” She didn’t remember Susan ever coming to the Pendletons’ boat when they were growing up.

“Gary and I came to an art show where you were displaying your pottery last year in Tennessee.”

“Really?”

Susan nodded. “I didn’t make the connection then. I — ” She stopped again. “Well, I finally put it all together when Ginny and I were talking.”

“I wish I remembered meeting you. The Tennessee show was a madhouse.”

“There were at least a couple of thousand people there that day. I’m not surprised you don’t.”

“Well then, I guess it’s good to meet you
again
.”

“I bought one of your vases at that fair, and I just love it. Not only is your work beautiful, it’s durable too. You know, Midwestern girls like me appreciate that. We have that practical streak.”

Laurel blushed at the compliment. “You’re very kind.”

“Do you have any new designs this year? I might just need to get something for myself as well.”

“Oh, of course.” Laurel indicated her display, stepping back and gesturing with her hand. “Look all you like, and let me know if you have any questions.”

After a few minutes, Laurel ventured cautiously, “So, how do you like the lake area? Are you settling in?”

Susan looked her directly in the eye the way James used to. “We absolutely love it. After Gary retired from the Navy, we wanted a place to put down some roots. Kentucky is close to my parents” — She leaned over and whispered in a knowing tone — “but not too close if you know what I mean.”

So she was blunt like James too. Laurel smiled. “I think I might.”

“And Gary doesn’t have any family still living, so anywhere quiet was fine with him. Now, if only we could get my brother somewhere on this side of the country, I’d be happy as a clam.”

Susan turned and called to the man who was with her. “Gary! Come meet Ginny Pendleton’s sister.”

A man who was maybe ten years older than Susan strode up to the booth. He was rugged in appearance, not especially handsome, but he had a smile that was warm and friendly. His graying hair was cropped close to his head, apparently a holdover from his years in the military, and his sky-blue eyes were striking in his weathered face. He held out his hand and gave Laurel a hearty handshake.

“Hello!” he boomed. “Gary Murtowski.”

“Laurel Elliot.”

“Ah yes, the famous Laurel Elliot. Your sister sings your praises, and my wife loves your work.”

“Thank you.”

“You from around here?”

“No, Gary,” Susan cut in, “Remember? She lives in our neck of the woods in a cabin above Uppercross Hollow.”

“That’s right, that’s right. You’re a neighbor. I have to say, I really like the neighbors around our new place. Nice people.” He winked at her. “Present company,
included
. My brother-in-law, James, said he knew you, but he neglected to say how pretty you are.”

“Gary, you’re an awful flirt! You’re embarrassing her.”

“Aw, surely not,” he insisted.

Laurel laughed through her blushes. “Don’t be too hard on him, Susan. It’s not hard to make me self-conscious — really no challenge at all.”

Spring returned then, handing Laurel her soda and her change. The Murtowskis introduced themselves and began a conversation with Spring about her college plans. Normally, Spring was tight-lipped with adults, but Susan and Gary’s engaging personalities made it easy to speak with them, regardless of the age gap.

Susan turned to her husband. “Best drag out your wallet and pay for my purchases, Gary. I’m sure Laurel has other buyers that need her attention.” She nodded toward a clique that was making its way up the row.

“Oh, no please,” Laurel replied. “Consider them a welcome gift.”

“Nonsense,” said Gary. “We insist. We remember the struggling artist scenario. James lived it for a couple of years, didn’t he, my dear?”

Susan nodded. “I worried about him constantly. Still do, but that’s what big sisters are for. You know how that goes, being a big sister yourself.”

Laurel put her arm around Spring’s shoulders. “Yes, I can relate.” She turned to her money box. “Here, let me get you a receipt.”

As she wrote out the slip, Susan invited her to have lunch one day next week. They set a date, and in a whirl, the Murtowskis were gone.

Laurel sat down with a thud, her face flushed and her heart beating rapidly.

“You okay?” Spring asked.

“Just hot.” Laurel reached over, grabbed her soda off the table, and took several swigs.

After that, the sisters sat under the tent, fanning themselves with programs and listening to the murmur of conversations as people strolled by. Laurel answered questions from a group of women who stopped to look and, therefore, was completely unaware that she was being watched. Spring nudged her and surreptitiously pointed to a man standing a couple of booths down, looking intently at the two of them.

“Who is that, Sis?”

“I’m not sure.” Laurel squinted. “Hmm, I know the face, but I can’t quite place him. He’s too old to be a classmate. Maybe he docks at the marina? Or used to?”

“Oh, shit, he’s coming over here.”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that kind of language. It isn’t becoming in a girl your age.”

Spring rolled her eyes. “Whatever . . . Oh, darn, here he comes.’”

Laurel pursed her lips in maternal disapproval, but she was stopped from any further comment by the man’s approach.

“Laurel Elliot. I can’t believe it; it is you.” His face broke into a dazzling smile, and he held out his hand. “I’m Cooper Edwards, a friend of your father’s from his university days, but I also teach history at Benton College.”