Читать книгу A Wedding In Willow Valley - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 9

“I swear, Dove Clearwater,” Laurel said, “if I actually catch a fish on the end of this line and that slimy thing comes flying up here, I’m gone. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. I came out here to the rez to have a relaxing Sunday afternoon with you, remember?”

“Fishing is relaxing,” Dove said. “We’re sitting on this nice grass, the water and sky are a lovely shade of blue, the leaves on the tree are gorgeous, it’s a crisp fall day. It’s your attitude that’s not with the program.”

“You’ve got that straight,” Laurel said, laughing.

“Well, we could always go back to the house and I’ll cut your hair for you.”

“Ohhh, don’t start with me,” Laurel said with a groan. “I’m trying to forget that fiasco with Ben at the café yesterday.”

“In my opinion, not that you asked,” Dove said, “you two were long overdue to talk to each other like normal people. The stony-silence thing ever since you came back to Willow Valley was ridiculous.”

“What happened isn’t exactly what I would call a conversation,” Laurel said, frowning. “The whole town is buzzing about how Ben Skeeter told Laurel Windsong she shouldn’t cut her hair. You cut your hair a few years ago. Did Ben pitch a fit?”

“Nope,” Dove said, swinging her head a bit so her shoulder-length dark hair swirled, then settled back into place. “He said it looked very nice. But Ben isn’t in love with me.”

“He’s not in love with me, either, Dove,” Laurel said quietly. “What we had together was over years ago. What he said in the café about my hair was habit or reflex or whatever. Oh, forget it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Laurel paused. “I haven’t brought this up because I was waiting to see if you would, but you haven’t. So I’ll just jump right in. Tell me about your plans.”

Laurel looked over at her best friend, seeing a pretty Navajo woman who was about five foot four, small-boned and slender, which made her appear younger than the twenty-seven years old that she was. Her big, dark eyes were her best feature and boasted thick, long lashes.

“What plans?” Dove said, frowning in confusion. “You’re right, I haven’t mentioned having any plans since you came home.”

“Well, surely you’re thinking about the future,” Laurel said. “The twins are up and gone, and Eagle is a senior in high school. Once he graduates, it will be your turn, Dove. Everything you put on the back burner for the past ten years so you could raise those kids can be brought forward again. You were going to go to college and study journalism, remember?”

Dove shrugged. “That was then.”

“What are you saying?” Laurel said, setting her fishing pole next to her on the grass.

“Oh, I don’t know, Laurel. I’m not unhappy here on the rez, living in the house I grew up in. I write for the paper when the mood strikes and I’m making a decent living with my weaving. Why rock the boat?”

“There’s a big difference between being not unhappy and being happy,” Laurel said. “It sounds to me like you’re settling for less than what you really want because it’s easier to just stay put.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Dove said. “I had such big ideas when I was seventeen, but everything changed when my parents were killed. I raised my brother and the twins, Laurel, and feel like a mother whose last baby bird is going to leave the nest in the spring.

“Yes, it’s my turn. My turn to just live a quiet existence without so much responsibility weighing me down. I just don’t have the energy left to take on a whole new way of life and head off to college at twenty-seven. I’m doing fine right here.”

“Oh, Dove, that paints a picture in my mind of a narrow, lonely existence. You said a couple of weeks ago that you’re not even dating anyone.”

“Laurel,” Dove said, flipping her line in the water to another spot, “think about this. I date someone. I find myself in a relationship at some point and said guy asks me to marry him. We are now looking at hearth, home and babies. Children, Laurel.

“Don’t you see? I’ve raised three kids already. I’ve done the tooth-fairy bit and helping with homework and pinching pennies to feed us all and putting up with moody teenagers and I don’t want to start over with more babies. Any man I might get serious about is going to want a family. I just can’t go through all that again.”

“But…”

“No.”

“You’d feel differently if you were in love,” Laurel said.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Dove paused. “Speaking of plans, do you have any?”

Laurel shook her head. “I’m just doing one day at a time. Dove, I know I’m probably hurting your feelings by not telling you what happened in Virginia to bring me running home, but I just can’t talk about it yet.”

“I understand that part,” Dove said. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready to share. I’m just wondering if you intend to just stay on here and work at the café.”

“No, and I’ve told my mother that so she won’t be disappointed down the line when I…figure out what to do with my life.”

“There are worse things than living in Willow Valley or here on the rez,” Dove said. “It’s peaceful. Eagle is thinking of joining the Army when he graduates. I think that structured kind of existence would suit him well. He’s very restless, edgy, and he wants to leave here as soon as he can. That’s fine—for him.

“Me? I’ll be more than ready to not have to worry about unpleasant surprises produced by unpredictable teenagers. Each day will go more or less the way I decide it should.”

“Dove, that sounds like something an eighty-seven-year-old person would say, not someone who is twenty-seven.”

Dove shrugged. “I like the image of it in my mind. I’m going to have control over my own life again. Like I said…peaceful.”

“Mmm,” Laurel said, frowning.

Several minutes went by in silence, the two friends lost in their own thoughts. The forgotten fishing pole lay unattended on the grass.

“I like Marilyn Montgomery,” Laurel said finally. “I met her when I came back and felt an instant bond with her, as though I’d known her for a long time. She said she moved here five years ago, but we never connected during my brief visits from Virginia.”

“She’s very nice,” Dove said, nodding. “And she really spruced up the beauty shop when she bought it. It’s popular with locals and tourists.”

“She didn’t say why she moved to Willow Valley,” Laurel said. “And I didn’t ask. I figured if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.”

“I don’t think anyone knows where she came from or why.” Dove laughed. “Not even Cadillac. He called her ‘the mystery woman’ for a while after she arrived until he got bored with the subject and went on to something else. Anyway, Marilyn is very well liked and respected.”

“As well she should be,” Laurel said.

“I think I hear someone coming behind that rise,” Dove said. “It might be Grandfather. He very often rides his horse on Sunday and he checks to see if I’m fishing in this spot. I want you to know that I put many a Sunday-night meal on the table over the years with the fish I caught here, plus I got to spend time with Grandfather.” She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, there is definitely a horse headed our way.”

“It’s always wonderful to spend time with Grandfather,” Laurel said. “Everyone calls him that out of respect. I forget he’s really your great-grandfather. Does Eagle realize what an honor it is to be a descendant of a hero, a Navajo code-talker?”

“I don’t think Eagle is that impressed by it,” Dove said. “Maybe when he’s older he’ll appreciate what Grandfather and the others did as code-talkers during World War Two. Nothing gets Eagle excited these days except the thought of leaving here.” She turned and shaded her eyes with one hand as she looked into the distance. “Yes, that’s Thunder, Grandfather’s horse. There’s no mistaking such a huge black stallion like…but…oops.”

“Oops?” Laurel said, turning slightly to look in the same direction that Dove was. “That’s—Dove, that’s Ben riding Grandfather’s horse.” She glanced quickly to the left, then the right. “I don’t want…”

“Quit looking for a place to hide, for heaven’s sake,” Dove said with a tsk. “Surely you can greet Ben pleasantly and he’ll do the same to you. That’s called being mature adults, in case you’re wondering.”

Laurel glanced at Dove, then looked backward again, realizing that she was sitting in front of a wide tree and, due to the angle that Ben was coming from, there was no way he could see her.

She smoothed her red sweater over the waistband of her jeans, then slid her hands over her head to be certain that no wispy strands had escaped since she’d braided it. She looked over to see Dove giving her a knowing little smile and glared at her again, causing Dove to laugh.

Ben pulled the big horse to a halt about ten feet away, swung off its bare back and dropped the reins to the ground. Thunder immediately began to nibble on the grass.

“Ya at eeh,” Ben said, striding toward Dove.

“And greetings to you, too,” Dove said, smiling. “Why are you riding Grandfather’s horse?”

“I went by to visit with him,” Ben said, stopping, “and…” A flash of color caught his eye and he snapped his head around. “Oh. Hello, Laurel. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Hello, Ben,” she said, then snatched up her pole. “Just doing a little fishing.”

“You hate fishing,” he said, frowning. “You’re afraid you’ll catch one and will have to take it off the hook.”

“My, my,” Dove said, “don’t you have a remarkable memory, Benjamin Skeeter.”

“Yeah, well.” Ben shrugged, removed his Stetson then settled it back on his head. “I’d better be going. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Dove said. “You two are being absolutely ridiculous. Ben, sit down and tell us why you’re riding Grandfather’s horse. Laurel, quit staring at the water like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve every seen.”

“Jeez,” Ben said, settling onto the grass. “When you get into your mighty-mother mode, you’re like a drill sergeant.”

“You’d better believe it, buster,” Dove said. “Wren, Robin and Eagle will certainly agree with you on that fact. Now, then…Grandfather? You have his horse?”

Ben frowned. “Yeah. Grandfather said he wasn’t feeling well and Thunder needed some exercise. I said I’d take him out and put him through his paces. It has been a long time since I’ve ridden Thunder and he sure is slowing down. He’s getting older, just like the rest of us.

“As for Grandfather, he’s just sitting in his favorite chair in his trailer, not doing anything, which isn’t like him at all.”

“He actually said he wasn’t feeling well?” Laurel said, her eyes widening. “Grandfather doesn’t complain about anything, ever. Has he seen a doctor?”

“I asked him that,” Ben said, “but he ignored me as though I hadn’t spoken. He was definitely finished talking, so that was that.”

“This is frightening,” Dove said, shaking her head. “Everything you’re saying is so out of character for Grandfather. I’m going to drive out there and take him some dinner later and see what he’ll say to me.”

“Good idea.” Ben pulled a blade of grass free and nibbled on it for a moment. “He did say one more thing just as I went out the door of his trailer.”

“What was it?” Dove said.

Ben tossed aside the blade of grass and sighed.

“Ben?” Laurel said, leaning slightly toward him. “What did Grandfather say?”

“Neasjah,” Ben said quietly, meeting Laurel’s troubled gaze.

“Owl?” she said. “Grandfather said owl?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, dear heaven,” Dove said. “Owl means death. I’m going to his trailer right now.”

“Dove, wait,” Ben said. “I wouldn’t do that, because he’ll figure out that I saw you and told you he wasn’t up to par. He’ll clam up, won’t say a word. Guaranteed. Stick with your plan to take him some dinner later and see what he’ll share with you then.”

“Well, all right, I guess,” Dove said. “Was he wearing his code-talker medallion like he always does?”

Ben nodded.

“Well, that’s one normal thing. But the rest of what you’ve told us… I saw him last week and he was sitting outside weaving a basket. He seemed fine then.”

“I visited him the week before,” Laurel said, “and we went for a walk like we usually do, but…now that I look back I realize we didn’t go as far as we would on one of our walks. I didn’t think anything of it at the time but… Oh, I wish he hadn’t said owl.”

“Let’s not panic,” Ben said. “We’re accustomed to Grandfather being in excellent health. He’s in his eighties, you know. It stands to reason that he’s slowing down, having some off days, so to speak.”

“But why would he say neasjah?” Dove said.

“He might not realize he even spoke that aloud,” Ben said. “It could be nothing more than the fact that he’s spoiled by the great health he’s had, too, and is realizing that he’s getting up in years, that his next journey will be to the other side.”

“No,” Dove said, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” Laurel said.

“Let’s just wait and see what happens,” Ben said. “Let’s also agree to keep each other posted.”

Dove and Laurel frowned and nodded. The trio was silent for several long moments, each thinking about their beloved Grandfather.

“Oh!” Laurel shrieked suddenly as the fishing pole she was still holding jerked in her hand.

“Hang on tighter,” Ben said. “From the way that line is going out and the pole is bending, I’d say you’ve snagged a good-size one, Laurel.”

“I don’t want it!” Laurel shrieked, gripping the pole with both hands.

“Don’t you dare lose that thing,” Dove said. “I definitely want it. I can make Grandfather a super dinner with a freshly caught fish. It’s probably a big ole trout, and he loves grilled trout. Start reeling it in, Laurel. Come on.”

“I don’t know how!” she yelled.

“Ben, help her,” Dove said, flopping back on the grass and dissolving in laughter. “This is too funny. Wouldn’t you know it would be Laurel who is the champion of the day. Oh, my goodness.”

“Pull the pole toward you,” Ben said, “at the same time you’re reeling in the line.”

Laurel leaned back and attempted to turn the handle that would take up the slack of line.

“This isn’t working,” she said. “The line is going out more, not coming in. That’s not a trout, it’s a whale.”

“Jeez,” Ben said, chuckling.

In the next moment he scooted across the grass and slid behind Laurel, his legs on either side of her as he pressed himself against her, then brought his arms around her to cover her hand on the pole and the other one on the handle.

Dove’s eyes widened and sparkled with delight as she saw what Ben had done.

“Oh, my, my,” she said. “Thunder is obviously getting nervous from all this shouting.” She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll go keep him calmed down, walk him out a ways until you two land the whale. Ta-ta.”

“Ben, I don’t think…” Laurel said.

“Shh,” he interrupted. “Concentrate on reeling in Grandfather’s dinner. Okay. We’re pulling back on the rod at the same time as we’re shortening the line. That’s it. Slow and easy.”

He was a dying man, Ben thought, staring up at the sky for a moment before directing his attention back to what he was doing. Oh, God, Laurel felt good nestled against his body. His body that was going nuts, was on fire with the want, the burning desire for her. Damn, the heat. Low, churning, tightening into a painful coil and…

Mmm, she smelled fantastic with that familiar cologne mixed with fresh air and sunshine. His cheek was resting against her silky hair. Hair that evoked such sensuous memories of when it was freed from the braid, waiting for his hands to sift through it, falling over them both like a waterfall of ebony strands. Laurel.

Think fish, Ben told himself. Think about anything except how much he loved this woman and what she was doing to him right now. Fish. Grandfather’s dinner.

Ben pulled back on the rod again, then, with his hand still covering Laurel’s, reeled in the slackening line that effort had created.

Oh, dear heaven, Laurel thought. She was going to faint dead away. Her heart was racing so fast she could hear the wild tempo echoing in her ears. Her cheeks were flushed pink with warmth, she knew they were. She was encased in the strong embrace of Ben Skeeter and it was wonderful, just exquisite and so very, very wrong or very, very right, she didn’t know, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t…

She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. Memories of making love with Ben were slamming against her mind with images so vivid, so real, she could feel his lips on hers, taste him, inhale his special masculine aroma. Her hair was swept free of the braid and caressing them and… Oh, God, the heat that was pulsing so low in her body was… And her breasts ached for Ben’s soothing touch, his hands, his mouth, his…