Find Wonder In All Things (6 page)

“Laurel? Okay, I’ve heard of that. Laurel what?”

“Laurel’s my middle name.”

His eyebrow rose while he waited.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Mountain Laurel.”

He grinned. “Aha. Very beautiful. But ‘Virginia?’ That’s a state.”

“Virginia Bluebell.”

James snorted.

“And, before you ask, our baby sister’s name is Spring Violet.”

“What are the boys named for?”

“Singers in the 1960’s. Dylan, for Bob Dylan, and Crosby, for David Crosby.”

“What did your mother have to say about all this?”

“Nothing. She pretty much lets Daddy have his way about those kinds of things.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You working tonight?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yep. You?”

He nodded.

“Well I suppose I best get back.” She stood up, stilling the swing with her hands. “Mom will want me to help with the kids’ breakfasts, and you probably want to take a shower. You know there’s a public shower up at the marina, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Stu showed me yesterday. I suppose I should get back too. He might be awake by now, and we’re heading into town. I gotta go to the bank and open up an account.”

“If he’s leaving early to drive up and see Ginny, you won’t have a ride.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.”

“If he can’t take you, I will.”

“It’s a deal.” He stood up, holding out his hand.

She laughed and reached out, but after they shook, he didn’t let her go.

Slowly, hand in hand, they began the descent back to the marina and boat dock. Traffic had picked up while they were gone. Cars with trailers and fishing boats were lined up three and four deep, waiting to put into the water for the day.

“Will your father care?”

“If I take you to the bank?” She shook her head. “No, I can borrow his pick-up almost anytime I want.”

He slowed his pace and swung their hands up, holding hers against the center of his chest. “I meant will he mind if we go out somewhere?”

“If you’ve got no car, where are we supposed to go?” Her voice was a little breathless, but there was a touch of amusement under the disbelief.

James grinned down at her. “What about if I’m holding your hand while we walk? Will he care about that?”

“Worried about getting fired?”

He laughed. “A little, yeah.”

“Don’t worry. Daddy’s not like that. If my mother finds out on the other hand, watch out.” She smiled, but James caught the distinct note of warning in her words. He wondered about Mrs. Elliot. People rarely saw her, but he’d heard stories about her from Stuart’s mother over the years. She kept to herself at the log house that Walter Elliot built for his family above the marina. She raised an organic garden, preserved food by canning and drying, and sewed the kids’ clothes; except for a monthly trip into the town grocery store, she didn’t frequent any of the shops in town. There was no evidence she had friends outside the family either, which Mrs. Pendleton thought was odd, given how outgoing the rest of the Elliots were.

By the time he had thought all this through, they had reached the dock.

“I gotta go back up this way.”

“Sorry, I guess I could have walked you to your driveway.”

“No worries — I can make it on my own. Been doing it for years, Sir Galahad.”

“I’m sure you have.” He smiled at the ironic choice of words — Galahad, a symbol of gallantry and purity, and just about the last words he’d ever use to describe himself.

“See you tonight then.”

She took off, but he kept hold of her hand, forcing her to turn and face him. He pulled her close and looked at her. James wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, but he could almost look her square in the eye. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

“Bye, Mountain Laurel.”

She grinned and took off up the ramp.

Chapter 4

“Hey there, you . . . son . . . boy . . . What’s his name again?” Phil the shift manger was annoyed with his memory lapse, but the summer staff came and went like yesterday’s burgers. How was he supposed to remember them all?

“James,” Darlene the waitress said over her shoulder as she passed by with a coffeepot in her hand, cracking her gum.

“James!” Phil didn’t shout in the restaurant — that would be rude — but his booming voice carried across the room to the busboy, standing idly in the doorway with a goofy look on his face. “Table 12 left five minutes ago. Clean it off already.”

James jumped, embarrassed that he had been caught once again being inattentive. In truth, he was being very attentive, just not to his job. He hurried over to table 12 with his dish bin, casting surreptitious glances at Laurel as she moved between tables, smiling, taking orders, and generally being the light of the place. She winked at him, and he turned back to his task, grinning. After five days of giving Mrs. Elliot the full-court press, Laurel had convinced her mother to let him take her out on a real date. That night they would finally go somewhere besides the walking paths around the state park next door. Granted, it was just to a burger joint and a movie, but still it was ‘out.’

After that first day, James was alone on the houseboat. Stuart spent all his time wooing Virginia at her university about an hour away. The official story was that Stuart stayed with friends, but James had a feeling those friends rarely saw him. In fact, James wouldn’t be surprised if Stuart bailed out on his parents’ trip to Europe.

Unfortunately, when Stu left, so did his wheels, and that meant James had been confined to the marina for almost a week. Phil or Mr. Elliot would take him to the bank when he needed to go, but bank and store errands weren’t the same as going out for a night of fun. He couldn’t very well ask Mr. Elliot to drive him around on a date with his own daughter! So the day before, Laurel asked her dad to borrow his truck and vowed she would drive.

She sidled up behind him, and he knew she was there without even turning around. She smelled like iced tea with a whiff of honeysuckle underneath. He breathed deeply and smiled.

“Daddy gave me permission to stay out late,” she murmured as she dropped some silverware in his tub. “Till one o’clock.”

“Even then, I don’t think we’ll have enough time for both a dinner and a movie.”

“Well then, let’s skip the dinner and just hit the drive-in.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. Didn’t she know what went on at drive-ins?

“And don’t get any ideas, Marshall. I don’t know you that well.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He liked that forthright innocence she had about her — like she was naïve but still in charge of her own fate. “So, I’ll meet you up at your house about 10:30. I gotta take a shower first.”

“No . . . I’ll come down. Just meet me here.”

“Laurel, are you sure your father okayed this? I don’t want to have to look for another job tomorrow.”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s fine with Daddy. It’s just Mama.”

He frowned. “What did I do to get on her bad side?” Mrs. Elliot hadn’t shown up anywhere on the marina since he’d been there. Usually mothers waited to meet him before taking an active dislike.

“That’s not it. She’s just not feeling well and won’t want any company up at the house.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

Laurel bit her lip. “Oh no, she’ll be fine.” Her voice indicated that she didn’t want to discuss it anymore, and she gave him a weak smile. He decided not to press the issue. Whatever was going on with her mother, she would tell him when she was ready. He looked over at the kitchen door and saw Mr. Elliot watching them. The man had the most unnerving stare, not unlike his daughter.

“Okay, but come down to the boat if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be one of those creepy guys standing out under the street lights beside the dock.”

She laughed. “Fine.” She disappeared into the kitchen, giving her father a bright smile as she sailed past.

* * *

James was ready when Laurel knocked on the houseboat door and called to him.

“Come in,” he called back, putting his wallet in his back pocket and picking up his boat key off the coffee table.

She opened the door and stepped in, looking around the place. “It’s different than I remember. The Pendletons must have redecorated since I was here last.”

“What? Oh . . . yeah, I guess. Hey, you want a Coke or something?”

She turned and eyed him up and down in a frank assessment of his appearance that made his ears burn. He had no idea how a girl who’d never been on a date before could make a guy like him blush, so he decided to turn the tables on her.

“You look pretty.” And she did. Blue jean cutoffs and a green v-neck tee showed off her svelte figure to its best advantage. Her hair tumbled in slightly damp curls about her face and shoulders. She did that girl-next-door look very well.

That seemed to unnerve her a bit, but she managed to mutter a, “Thank you. You look real nice too.”

“Are you set then?”

Laurel nodded. “I’m glad you don’t have some stupid idea that the guy always has to drive.”

“I gave up stupid ideas the night I came here, remember? Besides, a guy without a car takes a ride wherever he can find it.” He turned back to lock the door and they started off toward the shore, walking in silence along the dock.

“I’m saving for a car. Blew up the motor in my other one — driving too fast.”

“How fast were you going?” she asked, brows raised.

“Hundred fifteen.” He looked down, a bit embarrassed.

“James! That’s so dangerous! Gosh, you’re lucky you didn’t really hurt yourself. Driving like that on the mountain roads around here will get you killed.”

“Don’t worry; I learned my lesson. I’ve been hoofing it for a year and a half now, and I can’t wait until I can afford another set of wheels. I’ll take care of the car this time.” His grin had a touch of mischief in it.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m working this summer. I figure by the time I go back to school, I’ll have enough for a decent, used pick-up with great gas mileage and a reliable engine.”

“I’ll be without a car at school this fall, but Benton’s a pretty small campus, so I’ll just take my bike.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they approached the truck. He followed her to the driver’s side and reached around her to open the door. She got in and turned to him in surprise.

He shrugged. “Just because I’m not driving doesn’t mean I’ve lost my manners. Ladies first.”

She smiled and shook her head as she put the key in the ignition. He jogged around to the passenger side and hopped in.

“Ready?” she asked, starting up the engine and giving it some gas.

“I’m at your mercy,” he teased.

“I’m a good driver.”

He leaned back and put his arm on the back of the seat, behind her shoulders. “I’m not the least bit worried.”

* * *

“Why do you want to study art?” James asked as he slid across the truck’s bench seat and reached over to grab a nacho from the paper plate. The movie was spectacularly bad, so they’d spent the time after the first fifteen minutes talking.

“I guess I don’t know what else I’d do with my life. My father is really happy about my choice of major, and I’m good at art. I enjoy drawing, painting, but what I like the most is sculpting, making something and feeling it take form under my hands. How I’ll shape that into something that buys groceries, I’m not sure. Dad says not to worry about it. If I’m true to myself, the rest will work out.”

He looked at her, his expression full of doubt, and she laughed.

“I know, I know. It sounds a little hippie-trippy hokey to me too, but . . . Why do you want to study business?”

“I don’t particularly. My dad said I had to pick a major that would be worth something, so that’s what I picked.” He looked at her sideways. “I’m as bad as you are: choosing my major to suit my father.”

“I can’t deny that Daddy’s pleased about the art thing, but I did it for myself too. I’m just not sure how to work out all the logistics of real life to go along with it, but hey, I’ve got four years to figure it out, right?”

“Four years that fly by,” he said sagely.

“So serious,” she teased.

“Realistic,” he countered.

She rolled her eyes. “Nuff about school. Tell me about something else.”

“What would you like to know?”

“What’s your dad like? I mean, you know mine already; I don’t need to tell you about him.”

James sobered a little. “He’s an average dad, I guess. He goes to work; he comes home and eats dinner. He watches TV, then he goes to bed. On the weekends, he argues with my mother for fun.”

“Oh, I’m sorry — bad subject.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it rough between them?”

He paused. “Yeah . . . it’s bad. I honestly don’t know how the two of them ever stood each other long enough to conceive two children.”