Mountain Laurel

by Fasano, Donna

  Letting the euphoric smile take over her entire being, she shook her head in disbelief at what she'd taken part in. A baby had been born right before her eyes.

  "I need to pull the knots out of my back muscles," Laurel said.

  She left Darlene cooing to the baby, closed the car door and walked along the dirt lane. Never in her life had she felt so moved, so elated, as when that tiny infant had fallen into her hands. He was so helpless, his first scratchy cries almost making her weep.

  Rubbing her lower back, she bent backward and stared up at the starry sky. She realized for the first time how lucky they were that the birth was uncomplicated. The implications of what could have happened forced a chill through her, and she whispered a quick prayer of thanks.

  She sucked in her breath in awe as a long, sparking arch of a shooting star streaked across the night sky. She grinned and, not wasting a moment, wished for health and happiness for the new baby boy.

  "You were great." Michael was beside her, brushing at a wisp of her silky hair.

  "I was, wasn't I?" Laurel laughed. "But then, so were you, and so was Ginny, and most of all, so was Darlene."

  "We were awfully lucky," he said seriously.

  "I was thinking that myself."

  Their gazes caught and held in the magnitude of the moment.

  Michael rested his hands on her shoulders. "What happened between us this evening..."

  She silenced him by placing a finger across his lips. "Don't," she pleaded. "I wanted you, too."

  Understanding wrapped around them like a warm, woolen cloak. Their embrace was sweet, poignant. Laurel's heart was stirred with remorse. How could she have rationalized herself out of a few tender moments in his arms?

  Cradling her face between his hands, he searched her eyes. "We need to talk."

  She gave him a small smile of assent.

  "I'm going for help." He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Now, get inside the car and warm up. I won't be long."

  He turned and jogged in the direction they had come.

  "Michael, take the flashlight."

  "I'll be all right," he called. "You may need it."

  Be careful, she silently called as she watched him run down the rocky dirt lane. You're carrying my heart.

  Laurel slid into the front seat with Ginny, wanting to give Darlene as much room as possible. Her deep, even breathing was a contrast to the baby's tiny sighs as mother and son slept.

  "She was worn-out," Ginny said.

  "How about you?"

  "I'm okay. It was amazing, though, wasn't it?"

  Laurel took a deep breath. "Amazing is a pretty good word to describe it."

  "Darlene's the mother of that tiny little baby." Ginny whispered the words as if in awe. "Do you know that Darlene is less than a year older than I am?" Shaking her head, she looked at Laurel. "That could be me back there."

  "Heaven forbid, Gin."

  "But it could!" Ginny repeated.

  Laurel saw Ginny's pensive expression, heard the severity of her words.

  "What are you saying, honey?"

  "Look at her. She's holding down a job, taking care of an apartment, and now she has a helpless baby that she's responsible for." Ginny exhaled with a sound of disgust. "I'm just a kid compared to her. If any of that would have happened to me, I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

  "Now, you don't know that. People take what life tosses at them. Darlene's been thrown a curve ball and she's done a pretty good job of catching it, that's all."

  Ginny looked out at the darkness. "I've missed every one that's come my way."

  The lugubrious admission startled Laurel.

  "Not every one," she quipped, trying to lighten Ginny's mood.

  "Getting to know Darlene, the kind of person she is and the things she's done—it all makes me feel so...so young."

  "But, honey, you are young," Laurel said. "And so's Darlene. You both have some growing up to do. She's tried to do it in too little time and you've tried to sneak a little extra. But what neither one of you knows is that life doesn't work that way."

  Seeing Ginny's curious expression, she continued, "You see, you have to come of age when it's your time. If you try to rush it or put it off, it only gets you into trouble."

  "Don't I know it," Ginny mumbled.

  "And you can't turn around one day and say 'I'm a big person now.' It doesn't work that way, either. You have to go through all the motions. You have to have all the kid experiences and all the teenage experiences before you can become an adult. Of course, it's not unknown to skip a few, as Darlene has done, but just because she has a baby and will soon have a husband doesn't mean she's all grown up.

  "But she'll do it," Laurel said emphatically. "She loves that baby and she's a fighter. But it's not going to be easy."

  Laurel stared out through the moon-shadowed trees contemplating the obstacles that could potentially hinder Darlene's path, of which her immaturity was only one. It would, in all probability, be a hard road for the young couple and their ready-made family.

  "Laurel?"

  Ginny's voice brought her back to the present.

  "I know that, up to this point, I haven't been all that I could be. But I want you to know that that's all going to change."

  Hiding her surprise, Laurel tried to anticipate what Ginny was going to say next.

  "Wanting me to go to college is something that you've made very plain."

  Laurel had trouble holding back her smile of victory.

  "But," Ginny continued, "my not wanting to go has also been clear from the start, hasn't it?"

  Her cheek muscles relaxing, Laurel swallowed. "Yes, it has," she said, leery of her sister's tone.

  "I'm going to make some changes," Ginny said boldly, "but you need to understand that my attitude about college isn't going to be one of them."

  When Laurel opened her mouth, Ginny raised her hand, arresting the argument before it was started.

  "Why should I spend four years in college when I have a career at home waiting for me? I don't expect to waltz right in and take over, but you have to admit, I do have some experience. I know how to sell, I know how to count money, right? Well, that's a start, isn't it?

  "I want to learn the rest, too. I want to know how to take inventory, how to order merchandise, how to keep the books, calculate insurance, make work schedules, fill out payroll, everything." Ginny's gaze was steady as she added, "I want to learn."

  Laurel's hopes of Ginny's college education started to tumble, then nose-dived, until they hit rock bottom. Ginny didn't want to go to college. She had made that clear enough, had been saying it loudly all along. But now she was making some definite decisions about what she did want, and that was something that was both brand new and pleasantly surprising.

  Well, Laurel thought, wasn't that part of the growing process? Making choices and living with those choices?

  "I understand."

  "You do?" Ginny's voice was dubious.

  "Yes, I do. And I'll teach you everything I know about the store." She took hold of Ginny's hand, her words low and somber. "I want you to know that I'll be there with you every step of the way."

  So, college was out. Well, at least Ginny was back on track. If not on the right road, at least she was headed in the right direction. Then why was it, Laurel wondered, that Ginny didn't look that happy?

  ~ ~ ~

  The bright lights of the emergency room did nothing to keep Laurel's heavy eyes from drooping. She almost felt as though she were the one, rather than Darlene, who had just given birth. Chuckling to herself, Laurel chalked up her fatigue to emotional stress. It was a lot of work supporting a woman in labor. Every new father who had ever done would surely agree.

  Slowly drawing her eyes open, she saw Michael talking to a doctor at the admissions desk. She stifled a yawn and went over to join them.

  "She's in great shape," the doctor said. "You did fine."

  "How about the baby?" Laurel asked.

&
nbsp; "Healthy as can be. His tummy's full and he's all tucked in for the night. Darlene is, too." Then the old man's eyes lit with a teasing glint as he asked, "What in the world were you all doing out on the old valley road while Darlene was in labor?"

  "Don't ask," Michael advised gruffly. He took Laurel by the elbow, steering her back over to the empty waiting area.

  "We did a good job," Laurel said.

  "The doctor seemed to think so." Glancing about him, he asked, "Where's Ginny? I'll take you two home."

  "She went in to say good-night to Darlene and the baby. She won't be long."

  They sat down on the worn vinyl-covered chairs.

  "I called the service station. They're going to tow your car in in the morning and someone will drive it over to you as soon as it's fixed."

  "Thanks," she said.

  "And I told them not to bring the car back to you unless it had a new tire on the front and a new spare in the trunk," he said gruffly. "I can't tell you how angry I was when I found out they let you drive off without a spare."

  Holding his gaze was impossible. Leaving that service station without a spare tire had been monumentally stupid. "Things turned out okay."

  "It's incredible that we didn't face a huge tragedy." He shook his head in wonder.

  "You look tired," she remarked, wanting desperately to change the subject.

  "So do you. I guess all this nervous tension has taken its toll on both of us."

  Rubbing his hand over his face, he got up and paced to the window. He stared out for several seconds, his hands stuffed into his pockets, before returning to Laurel's side.

  "I've been thinking about you all night." He sat down on the edge of the seat. "You and this situation we've gotten ourselves into. I'm not going to be able to rest until it's out." He leaned forward and placed his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in the palm of his hand. His eyes, dark with questions, bore into her.

  She, too, had thought about him while she'd waited in the darkness of the car for him to return. Reliving the times she'd spent with him, she'd found herself smiling. He'd made her happy; of that she was sure. Even when they'd been forced to act for Ginny, being with Michael had been fun. When they were together she felt whole and happy—as though everything was right in the world.

  She loved him. And she'd come to the conclusion that a commitment wasn't important. Taking what happiness she could, she had decided, was what she wanted.

  Sure, she would miss him when she returned home. Her heart would break to leave these beautiful mountains, this wonderful man. But being with him now was what she wanted...was what mattered. She'd learn to live with the pain and loneliness later.

  "I want you."

  The warmth in his tone caressed her, and her heart swelled with tenderness.

  These were the same words he'd said to her earlier, and they sounded just as delicious to her now as they had then.

  "I want you, too." She was surprised by how quickly she was filled with yearning. "But there's not much we can do about it here."

  His gaze dropped to her lips before returning to drink in the hunger he saw in her eyes. Desire pulled them closer like a powerful magnet.

  "I don't think you understand." His voice cracked in its huskiness.

  "I understand perfectly," she whispered, kissing him on the jaw.

  He groaned, a low rumbling in the back of his throat that only she heard. Closing the small gap between them, he pulled her to him.

  His kiss was hard, greedy, and she welcomed it. He drank of her sweetness like a man dying of thirst.

  He eased the pressure of their kiss to whisper against her lips, "What I meant—"

  "Gee, guys!" Ginny's voice held a hint of laughter. "I can't think of a less romantic place to make out than an emergency center."

  Laurel sat up straight, and Michael reluctantly released his hold.

  "Is Darlene asleep?" Michael asked.

  "Like a baby."

  "And the baby?"

  "He's sleeping, too, with his fist stuffed in his mouth." Ginny's eyes misted. "He is gorgeous."

  Laurel couldn't help but smile thinking of the new baby she'd watched come into the world.

  "Darlene wants us to call home, tell Jim he's a daddy."

  "That's a good idea." Laurel nodded.

  "Well," Michael said, standing to fish into his pocket for the keys, "let's go home and call Jim. Then we can all get some well-deserved sleep."

  Chapter Nine

  Back at the cabin, Laurel sat on the edge of the couch, feeling none of the welcoming coziness the room usually gave her. The ride home seemed to have taken several hours instead of the short time it actually took. Questions rolled through her mind, one after another, until she thought she'd scream.

  Was she sure that sharing a few precious days of unbridled loving with Michael was what she wanted? And even if it was, could she turn her back on everything she believed in—her whole way of life? She loved Michael. She wanted him. And she knew that he wanted her. But would having him for such a short time be worth the hurt and loneliness she'd feel when she returned home? Looking across the room, she saw him standing by the hearth, studying the fire. She was absently aware of Ginny's excited phone conversation with Jim.

  Laurel rubbed the palms of her hands together in agitation. Would letting herself go be worth it? Not only that, but could she possibly spend those few wonderful days loving him without showing him her true feelings?

  Michael sat down on the hearth and stared unseeing at the hardwood floor. He'd almost told her, had almost gotten it out. He shook his head. Was she ready to hear how he really felt about her? He doubted it. Seriously. What he needed was more time. He needed more time to show her that he hated playing this stupid game, that, in fact, he wasn't playing at all.

  He had tried, really tried, to help Laurel out with her problem with Ginny without becoming involved. But all his good intentions had been smashed on their very first date without Ginny.

  Thinking back on the night he'd taken her to work with him, he remembered how the firelight had turned her hair to burnished copper, and how she'd laughed when he'd held his marshmallow too close to the fire and scorched it. He had enjoyed being with her. It had been torture to do his job that night, seeing to the campers' comfort, keeping everyone happy, when his eyes kept being drawn to her beautiful face.

  He remembered how his heart had warmed when she'd invited two little girls to play a game of ring-around-the-rosy so their parents could enjoy a quiet stroll under the stars. But he also remembered the ugly feeling that had welled up inside him when that guy, innocent for all Michael knew, had sat down next to her. Michael had recognized the feeling instantly. Jealousy. A jealousy so strong that it had surprised him. At that very moment he had known that not only did he want Laurel, he loved her.

  But because they were playing this "game" for Ginny's benefit, he'd felt it unwise to tell Laurel of his feelings. So he'd opted to show her instead. With quiet dinners and long walks taken hand in hand, caresses and unexpected kisses when there was no need to act—these were the things he'd used in an attempt to reveal to her how he felt.

  Maybe the intensity of his desire for her was getting in the way of his own judgment, but even after spending so much time with her for the past two weeks, he suspected that she was still unaware of the magnitude of his emotions. Sometimes she responded to him with such passion that it took his breath away. But then, other times, she would pull back. And it was that withdrawal that kept him guessing. The frustration of wanting to be frank and open with her about how he felt had built inside him until it had become an unbearable burden.

  He'd probably been stupid to blurt out as much of his feelings as he had tonight at the hospital, but their time was so short and he didn't want to lose her.

  But what if she didn't feel the same? His hands clenched into fists at the thought. She wanted him; he knew that. He could and had stirred her desire. But what he wanted was more than physical. It might s
ound crazy, having known her for less than two weeks, but he wanted her for a lifetime.

  "Michael." Ginny's voice broke into his thoughts and he watched her set the phone receiver on the table. "Jim wants to talk to you."

  Bounding across the room, Ginny plopped herself on the sofa next to Laurel.

  "Jim wants us to stay a while longer so we can bring Darlene and the baby home with us when we go."

  "Stay?" Laurel's insides fluttered at the thought. She didn't know if it was from excitement or dread.

  "Yeah. Just long enough for Darlene and the baby to travel comfortably. And he said Mom wants to talk to you, too."

  "Mom?" Laurel's back straightened as she jerked to attention. "Is something wrong?"

  "I'm not sure," Ginny said. "I don't think so."

  Laurel eyed the telephone anxiously. What could be wrong at home? Had her father gone back on his word and left her mother alone? Michael's expression changed, and Laurel knew her mother was on the line.

  "Yes, Mrs. Morgan," he said. "They're just fine. We're having a great time together. Yes. Of course. I'd like that very much."

  Laurel wished she could hear both sides of the conversation.

  "Although your oldest daughter may have something to say about that."

  What could they be discussing? Laurel wondered.

  "I've been showing them around," he said. "There's plenty more for them to see."

  Michael called to her with his eyes, and Laurel stood and went over to him.

  "She's right here," she heard him say.

  He handed her the receiver and smiled. "It's your mother."

  "Thanks." Why did he look like the cat that had swallowed the canary? She lifted the phone to her ear. "Mom?"

  "Laurel. Hello, dear."

  Laurel barely recognized the energetic voice.

  "Mom, is everything okay?"

  "Things are wonderful, Laurel. Just wonderful. They couldn't be better. Well, maybe they could." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Laurel, I'd really like for you and Ginny to stay there a while longer. I realize that Jim has—"