by Carol Grace
“How do you feel?” he asked anxiously.
“Fine.” She looked at his wrinkled shirt, his tousled hair, and his bloodshot eyes. “Going somewhere?”
“As a matter of fact...”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she said, feeling her cheeks flame. He took her by the elbows and eased her into the porch swing. “Were you even going to say goodbye?” she demanded, shaking him off.
“Of course I was,” he said stiffly. “I have to apologize.”
“For what? Not fastening my seat belt for me? I’m an adult, you know. I take responsibility for my own actions.”
“You don’t know how I felt,” he began.
“Let me guess,” she sputtered. “You felt guilty, you felt it was happening all over again, the fear, the anxiety, the danger and the possibility that I might be killed just like...”
“Stop it,” he said angrily. “You don’t know, you can’t know unless you’ve been through it.”
“All right. All right,” she admitted. “I don’t know and I hope I never will. But I do know that you’ve suffered enough. You’ve felt enough guilt to last a lifetime. But you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you to live, to love again. If you’ll just give yourself permission to take a chance on happiness. Of course something terrible could happen to you, to me, to anyone. But you can’t go on expecting it, worrying about it, planning for it and dreading it. It’s like a shadow over your life and...” Her head was throbbing and she was running out of arguments. He wasn’t listening anyway.
“I appreciate your concern,” he said between stiff lips. “I know what you think because it’s what Steve thinks and what Gretel thinks. Go ahead and say it, you think I’m afraid to take a chance on love. You think I’m a coward.” He loomed over her in the swing, his powerful form tense with bottled up frustration.
“Yes,” she said quietly, “I think you’re a coward.”
He backed away from her then, his eyes as cold as ice. As true as the words were, she wished she could snatch them back. But he turned and stomped down the steps, went to his car and drove away without a backward glance.
Laurie slumped back in the swing, shaking like an autumn leaf. It was over. She should have know she never had a chance. But she’d hoped, she’d dreamed, she’d prayed. And now he was gone. With her words ringing in his ears. “A coward.” Why did she have to say it? Because he’d asked for it. He deserved it. He was a coward, afraid to live, afraid to love. And she was better off without him.
That’s what Gretel said later at breakfast. “You’re better off without him, Laurie.”
“I know, I know,” Laurie said between bites of hot buttered toast. “But...”
“But what? He’s got so much to give, so much to share. He’s so kind, so sweet, so sexy. Is that what you were going to say?”
Laurie smiled, the first smile in such a long time. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say he’s so pig-headed, domineering, stubborn, impossible...”
“True, true,” Gretel acknowledged as she refilled Morgan’s juice cup. “The good thing is you’re over your pilot.”
Laurie set her cup of herbal tea down. “How did you know about him?”
“Your sister called me last summer. She told me.”
“Good grief, can’t a person have any secrets?” Laurie asked mildly.
“Not around here,” Gretel said, wiping Morgan’s mouth. “Anyway we got you over that hang-up and after your head heals, you’ll be ready to face the world again with a brand-new outlook.”
“If you say so,” Laurie said, staring out the window at the bare branches of the apple trees. Yes, she’d gotten over Roger, only to find herself in love with Cooper, a man just as impossible as the last. Was that progress?
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Gretel asked with a worried frown. “You really weren’t hurt in the crash?”
“Of course not,” Laurie said with as bright a smile as she could muster. She couldn’t spoil Gretel’s return by moping around. “I really had a wonderful time here while you were gone,” Laurie added earnestly.
“Sure you did. Picking apples, taking care of a teething baby and being subjected to the world’s worst grouch,” Gretel said.
“Cooper? Cooper’s not a grouch,” Laurie protested quickly. Maybe too quickly.
“Really?” Gretel asked, watching her friend out of the corner of her eye. “You could have fooled me. He hardly said two words at dinner last night. The dinner you slept through. Then he took off before breakfast, without saying a word. I don’t call that exactly being sociable.”
“I know what you mean. But honestly, Gret, he has good reasons.”
“Such as?” Gretel asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know about his wife and how she died.”
“I also know it was two years ago.”
“And he didn’t take off without a word. I saw him this morning. I think he feels terrible about what happened.”
“What happened?”
“Well, uh, nothing really.”
“Does he know how you feel about him?” Gretel asked.
“I’m afraid so. Needless to say it’s not mutual.”
“Hmm.”
Laurie waited, but Gretel didn’t elaborate. And she wouldn’t hear of Laurie taking off for California just because she and Steve came home early. “Tomorrow Steve takes over the orchard and you and I take up where we left off.”
“I ought to be getting back to California. Mandy’s baby is due fairly soon, you know.” And everything about the orchard only reminded her of Cooper. This kitchen, the fireplace in the living room, the guest bedroom.
“Yes, but I also know you haven’t had a real vacation. I promised to show you around and I’m going to do it.”
“Would two more days cover what we’ve missed?” Laurie asked, hoping she could put up a cheerful front that long.
“I guess so,” Gretel said with an exaggerated pout. And so they packed everything into those last two days, tea at the Olde English Hotel, the natural history museum and the harvest festival. And then it was time to go. Laurie said goodbye to Steve at the house, then Gretel and Morgan drove her to the airport. Gretel thanked her and she thanked Gretel. Laurie didn’t cry, though she knew she was also saying goodbye to Niagara Falls and Cooper Buckingham at the same time as she said goodbye to her dear friend. Then she turned to the baby.
“I’ll miss you, Morgan,” Laurie told her goddaughter. She pressed her cheek against the baby’s face and blinked back a tear. But the real tears came later as the plane took off and she gazed down at the orchards in the fall twilight, the mighty Niagara River and the spectacular Falls. She was getting away just in time. Another day and she might have called Cooper.
She might have told him she’d take him as he was. She didn’t need children. She only needed him. She might have apologized for calling him a coward. She might have thrown herself at him. Told him she loved him. But it wouldn’t have made any difference. And now at least she had her pride. For what it was worth.
Chapter Ten
Mandy Clayton watched her sister, Laurie, pace back and forth across the spacious living room of the Miramar Inn on the coast of northern California. The phone rang often with calls from prospective guests and each time it did Laurie held her breath while her sister answered it and then filled her reservation book with names and dates.
Finally Mandy looked up and, observing her sister closely, said, “Are you expecting a call by any chance?”
“No,” Laurie blurted. “Why?”
“Because every time the phone rings you stop talking, lose your train of thought and we start all over again.”
“How do you expect me to concentrate with you talking on the phone, scribbling on your calendar and knitting your baby sweater all at the same time?”
“Of course you can’t,” Mandy said soothingly. “Now what were you saying about Gretel’s baby?”
“She’s adorable. Except when sh
e’s teething. Then she cries all the time.”
Mandy examined the half-finished sweater with a practiced eye. “How awful. I hope my baby won’t cry all the time.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Laurie assured her confidently.
“How did you ever manage with the baby and the apples and everything?”
“Mandy, I met someone,” Laurie said suddenly.
Her sister dropped her knitting needles in her lap. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.
“I am telling you. Although there’s nothing to tell.”
“Nothing? I don’t believe you. Who is he? What does he do? Is it serious?”
“He’s Cooper Buckingham. He worked at the Falls and no, it’s not serious.”
Memories danced before Laurie’s eyes. The look in Cooper’s eyes as he bent to kiss her, the lightning that illuminated his face the night of the storm, the kisses that would stay forever engraved in her soul.
“Not serious, you say. Then why have you been pacing around here like a caged tiger ever since you arrived?” Mandy said skeptically. “Why have you not heard anything I’ve said and why do you jump like a kangaroo every time the phone rings? Is he going to call you?”
“No, absolutely not. He doesn’t know my number. He doesn’t want to know my number. Have you heard enough?”
Mandy shook her head and picked up her yarn. “Not nearly enough. I want to hear everything. From the beginning.”
Laurie sighed and looked out the window seeing rows of apple trees in her mind instead of the eucalyptus with their peeling trunks and fragrant leaves that framed Mandy’s windows. “It all started when Morgan threw the car keys over the Falls.”
Laurie told her the whole story. Or almost the whole story. She left out some private details. Details that were between her and Cooper only. Mandy turned on the lamps on the end tables, lit a fire in the fireplace and poured them each a glass of sherry. It was a weeknight and there were no guests to share it with. Mandy’s husband was at a Rotary Club meeting in town.
“Wow,” Mandy said, sipping her sherry. “I feel like I lead an awfully dull life.”
“I’d trade it in a minute,” Laurie said with an envious glance at her sister’s round, expanding stomach under her colorful maternity smock. But deep down Laurie knew she wouldn’t trade a minute of that time with Cooper—the way he smiled for example, the way he held Morgan. She’d hold on to those memories, because they were all she had.
“You’ll get your chance,” Mandy said, patting Laurie’s hand. “In the meantime I’m glad to have you back. This is my busy season. I need you. Each week I get a little heavier and a little more tired.”
Laurie gave her sister an affectionate look. “Even heavy and tired you have more energy than most people do.” She sighed and leaned back against the cushions. “Mandy, what should I do?”
“Have a hot bath and go to bed.”
“I mean with the rest of my life. I can’t stay here with you, living in an apartment over the garage, growing as old and gray as little Brunhilde’s aging auntie.”
“You could, but you probably shouldn’t. Let’s see, you look great in a uniform, you’re good with kids... Be a Girl Scout leader?”
Laurie choked on a laugh, which turned into a sob. “Don’t be funny. I’m not in the mood.”
“Sorry. I was just testing you. And you failed miserably. You are serious about this guy, aren’t you?”
“No. Yes. I could be. I would be. But he doesn’t want to get married. And he especially doesn’t want to have children. He has a good reason.”
“Don’t they all,” Mandy said dryly. “Haven’t you heard that before?”
“But this is different,” Laurie protested. “Cooper is different.”
“Sure he is. I’d say you got away just in time. If he doesn’t want to get married, what does he want, an affair?”
“No,” Laurie said. But she wondered. Isn’t that where they had been heading that night in the guest room? And who would have stopped it? Not her. She’d wanted him so much she’d forgotten about what was important to her. Yes, Mandy was right. She’d gotten away just in time.
Another day and she would have thrown herself at him. Would have forgotten about marriage and children and would have settled for an affair. Now, back in her sister’s house, she realized that she had to hold out for what she wanted. But as she washed sheets and towels during the next few days, baked muffins and served sherry in the evening to guests so Mandy could rest, she was beginning to have second thoughts. If he walked in the door at that moment and asked her to take up where they’d left off what would she say?
From the kitchen window she stared out at the dark blue ocean in the distance. She reminded herself that the chance of that happening was less than zero. That Cooper was doubtless hard at work somewhere and thinking about nothing but how to divert water flow. And he was glad to get away from crying babies and women who couldn’t cope in emergencies.
But Cooper was not only thinking about diverting the water flow. He’d tried diverting his thoughts from Laurie, but he couldn’t. Instead he went to see Morgan, Steve and Gretel in the orchard. He said he’d come to bring Morgan a present, and he did bring her a small stuffed dog, but that wasn’t all. He’d come to see the place where he’d last seen Laurie. He thought it might make him feel better. But it only made him feel worse.
He missed her. He was confused, he was depressed and he was lost.
“Laurie’s gone,” Gretel said after she’d invited him into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
As if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t feel her loss deep inside his bones. “I know. I didn’t come to see her.” His eyes roamed the kitchen remembering the hamburgers, the chicken curry, the pancakes, her apple cake. But most of all remembering how she looked hovering over the stove, her cheeks pink with concentration, her eyes locked with his, the tension in the air. “I just wondered if you had her address,” he said with a careless shrug as if it didn’t really matter one way or another.
Gretel raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she opened a drawer and took out a piece of notepaper and wrote down the address of the Miramar Inn for him.
He put it in his pocket. “How is she?” he asked as Gretel poured two cups of coffee.
“I haven’t heard from her since she left. She’s probably busy at the inn, helping her sister. It’s a beautiful spot. Perfect for R and R or a romantic weekend.”
“I meant how is Morgan,” he said. He knew the Miramar Inn was beautiful and romantic. He didn’t want to hear about it again.
“Morgan? She’s fine. Taking a nap.”
“I miss her,” he blurted.
“Morgan?”
“No, Laurie.”
Gretel nodded understandingly. “She’s a special person. And she deserves the best.”
Cooper knew she was looking at him over the rim of her cup. Probably thinking that he didn’t fit the bill. She was probably right.
The thought of Laurie finding someone else, someone who’d give her everything she wanted caused him to grip the edge of the counter so tightly it turned his knuckles white. He looked around the kitchen again at the bright yellow curtains and the natural pine-wood counters. “You have a great life here,” he said.
“But you have a pretty interesting life yourself,” she remarked.
“I used to think so, until... Well, it seems empty now.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Talk to Steve,” he said.
She gestured toward the grove of trees behind the house. “He’s out there grafting.”
Steve put his pruning shears down when he saw his old friend, wiped his brow and held out his hand. “I thought maybe you’d left,” he said.
Cooper shook his head. “I had to say goodbye.”
“Where’re you off to?”
“Not sure. I’ve got several offers, some interesting projects, but I don’t know.”
“We appreciate what
you did here, you know.”
“I’m not sure Gretel does,” Cooper said, staring off into the bare trees.
“You know what she’s thinking. She wanted something to happen with you and Laurie. I told her not to push it. Why, did she say something to you?”
“No... no. It’s just... if something happened to Gretel and Morgan, could you ever fall in love again? And if you did, would you do anything about it, or would you stay faithful to their memory?” He leaned back against a gnarled old apple tree and looked at Steve with intensity, waiting for his answer.
But Steve only shook his head. “I don’t know. How could I know? My heart goes out to you,” he said and his eyes filled with tears.
Cooper looked away. He hadn’t meant for the conversation to take this turn. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that. It’s just that I have no one else to ask. To talk to.”
“All I can say is if I died I’d want Gretel to marry again and be happy. I wouldn’t want her to suffer. To live her life alone. I’m sure you feel the same.”
Cooper had the feeling he’d heard this all before. From Laurie. “Of course I do. But what if something happens? Now that I know how fragile life is, how temporary, I can’t help thinking...”
