A Wedding in Willow Valley (Willow Valley Women)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  The fishing pole slid slowly but surely across the grass and into the water as the fish made its escape. A few moments later the pole was gone and the fish flipped upward again, free of the hook, in a taunting farewell that neither Ben nor Laurel saw. It splashed back into the water and disappeared.

  Oh, yes. Yes, Laurel thought hazily. Then reality began to inch into the sexual mist she was encased in. Oh, no. No. What on earth was she doing? She was kissing a man whom she loved with every fiber of her being. A man who hated her with all that he was because he believed she had betrayed him, broken her promises and… No. She mustn’t do this. Stop. She had to stop.

  Laurel slid her arms from Ben’s neck and flattened her hands on his rock-hard chest, pressing enough to cause him to break the kiss and stare at her, desire radiating from the depths of his dark eyes.

  “Let me go,” she whispered, then drew much-needed air into her lungs. She wiggled in his tight embrace. “Right now. Ben, I mean it.”

  Ben released her, and she scurried over his leg to sit on the grass several feet away from him, knowing her trembling legs would never support her if she attempted to stand.

  Ben took a shuddering breath, tented his legs and rested his head on his knees, striving for control. He lifted his head slowly and looked at Laurel.

  “That…that shouldn’t have happened,” Laurel said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice.

  “But it did,” Ben said, his voice gritty with passion. “Equally shared. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, and don’t even think about trying to deny it.”

  “We’re…we’re healthy young people, that’s all,” Laurel said. “Things got out of hand for a moment there and—it shouldn’t have happened, Ben. And it won’t happen again. Ten years can’t be erased. How we parted back then can’t be forgotten. No, this won’t happen again.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she said.

  “Forget it,” he said, pulling his Stetson low on his forehead. “Just forget the whole damn thing.”

  “I intend to,” she said, deciding to run the risk of getting to her feet. She stood and glanced around. “What happened to the fishing pole?”

  Dove peeked around a tree, then came forward, leading Thunder by his reins.

  “Hello, hello, I have returned with horse in tow,” she said, trying desperately not to giggle. “Where’s Grandfather’s dinner, mighty fishermen? Or fisher-persons, if you prefer.”

  Laurel frowned. “I have no idea. The fish ran away, I guess, and took the pole with it. I’ll buy you a new pole, Dove. It really was a whale. Big. Very big. And strong. Just booked it out of here and drowned the pole in the process.”

  “Is that a fact?” Dove said. “My, my, my. Even big, strong Ben Skeeter couldn’t hold on to that pole, huh?”

  “Nope,” Ben said, staring out across the water. “I’ll replace the pole, Dove.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dove said, laughing. “It was an old one of Eagle’s that had seen better days.” She became serious and tapped one fingertip against her chin. “However, I do believe that there is something of much greater importance to discuss than a rickety old fishing pole.”

  “No, there isn’t,” Ben and Laurel said in unison.

  “No?” Dove said, raising her eyebrows. “Then answer this question, dear friends.” She looked pointedly at Laurel, then Ben, both of whom averted their eyes from hers. Dove burst into laughter again. “What am I going to fix Grandfather for dinner?”

  “That’s it,” Ben said, rolling to his feet. “I’m gone. Out of here. See ya.”

  He took Thunder’s reins from Dove, swung up onto the horse’s bare back, pulled on the reins to turn Thunder then clicked his tongue at the horse and took off at a gallop.

  Laurel folded her arms beneath her breasts, tapped one foot, stared at the sky, the grass, then finally looked at Dove.

  “All I have to say is,” Laurel said, lifting her chin, “I suggest you make Grandfather a dinner of corn bread and soup. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dove, I do believe I’ll go home. Goodbye. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Ta-ta,” Dove said, wagging the fingers of one hand. “Thank you for a most interesting afternoon, Laurel.”

  Laurel marched past her with her nose in the air. Dove turned and watched her until she disappeared from view, then punched one fist in the air before dancing a little jig.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes. They’re goners, both of them. Now all they have to do is realize they’re still madly in love with each other. Yes, yes, yes.”

  Chapter Four

  At eight o’clock that evening Jane Windsong pressed a button on the remote and turned off the television that she and Laurel were watching.

  “All right, young lady,” Jane said. She shifted on her end of the sofa to look at her daughter, who was curled up on the other end. “That was deep sigh number ten or twelve or whatever. Add that performance to the three words, maximum, you spoke during dinner and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there’s something troubling you. Didn’t you enjoy your afternoon with Dove?”

  “Sure I did,” Laurel said, picking an imaginary thread off her jeans. “Dove and I always have fun together. I caught a giant fish. Sort of. I mean, it snarfed up the cheese on my hook and flopped around in the water for a while, but it got away. There you go.” She sighed again. “The one who got away.”

  “And just when did Ben show up where you and Dove were fishing?” Jane said.

  “He came on Grandfather’s horse because—” Laurel looked over at her mother. “I didn’t say anything about Ben being there.”

  “The one who got away?” Jane said, raising her eyebrows. “Since when is a fish a who instead of a that?”

  “Well, thank you, Detective Windsong,” Laurel said, frowning. “You’ve been reading too many of those mystery novels you like so much.”

  “I was right, wasn’t I? So. Ben popped onto the scene at the lake and then what? Did you actually manage to carry on a civil conversation?”

  “Among other things,” Laurel mumbled.

  “I heard that.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Laurel pulled her braid forward, removed the elastic from the end and began to unwind the thick strands. “Anyway, the civil conversation part was centered on Grandfather. Ben was riding Thunder—who is definitely showing his age—because Grandfather said he wasn’t feeling well and his horse needed the exercise.”

  “Grandfather actually said he wasn’t feeling well?” Jane said, frowning.

  “Yes, and Ben heard him say neasjah, although Ben isn’t certain that Grandfather is aware he said it aloud. Ben, Dove and I are really worried about Grandfather. Dove is taking dinner to him this evening to see how he is. He was wearing his code-talker medallion, which is good.”

  “Oh, honey,” Jane said, “he’s worn that award since the day he received it. It would be like part of getting dressed by now. I don’t think too much emphasis should be placed on his wearing the medallion. I’m definitely going to go out to the rez to see him this coming week. He’s not a young man anymore, Laurel. We all have to realize that.”

  “I don’t want to,” Laurel said, tugging harder on her hair.

  Jane laughed. “Don’t you sound like a bratty three-year-old. Come to think of it, you were a rather bratty kid when you were three.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot,” Laurel said, smiling.

  “What’s this? A smile? Call the newspaper with this bulletin.”

  “Mother, cut it out,” Laurel said, laughing. “I’m sorry if I’ve been grumpy since I got back from being with Dove. Okay? I just have a lot on my mind. You know, I’m worried about Grandfather and…and…Ben and I… See, the fish was really big and I didn’t know how to…so Ben sat behind me to help me reel in the dumb thing…but then I turned my head to ask him something and… I really don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Mmm,” Jane said, squinting at the ceiling for a lo
ng moment before looking at Laurel again. “All the clues indicate that Ben Skeeter kissed you. No, to be more precise, you and Ben shared a kiss. You said ‘Ben and I’ before.”

  “The FBI needs you, Mother,” Laurel said, glaring at Jane. “I wish you’d stop doing that CSI number of yours. It’s very annoying.”

  “So noted. But now that the facts are on the table… You and Ben kissed and…?”

  “And it shouldn’t have happened, that’s what,” Laurel said, getting to her feet and beginning to pace around the small living room. “It was a mistake and I’m erasing it from my mind.”

  “Why was it a mistake?”

  Laurel stopped in her tracks and looked at her mother.

  “Because I’m still in love with him,” Laurel said, nearly shouting. “And he hates me so—” She smacked one hand on her forehead. “I can’t believe I just said that. I do not believe that I opened my big mouth and announced that I’m—”

  “Still in love with Ben Skeeter?” Jane said. “Good grief, Laurel, I’d have to be stupid not to already know that.”

  “You would?”

  “Oh, Laurel, for heaven’s sake. If you didn’t love Ben, you wouldn’t have been breaking your neck to stay out of his way for the past four months. And the same goes for him, too. If he didn’t care, he would have started a conversation with you the first time he saw you after you came home.

  “Why do you think everyone has been watching you and Ben so closely? They’re all waiting for you two to admit the old feelings are still alive and well, then act accordingly, which apparently happened at the lake today.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” Laurel said. “Everyone is wrong. Ben hates the very air that I breathe because I left here ten years ago. Left him.”

  “Then why did he kiss you?” Jane said.

  “Because I was an inch away at the time. It was a reflex kind of a thing that—I repeat—should not have happened. And won’t happen again. Never.” Laurel sighed a very sad-sounding sigh. “Ever.”

  “Oh,” Jane said, dipping her head to hide her smile.

  “Maybe I’ll go to bed,” Laurel said, slouching back onto the sofa. “No, that’s silly. I’m not tired. Why don’t you turn the television back on?”

  “I want to discuss something with you first,” Jane said.

  “Okay. What?”

  “Well, I know you didn’t want to attempt to drive across country in your clunker car when you came home so you sold it in Virginia. You also sold all your furniture because you didn’t want any reminders of your time spent there.”

  “That’s right.”

  “The thing is, Laurel, it’s not working out for you to continually borrow my car. You had it all afternoon on the rez, and I realized I needed to go to the grocery store but had no way to get there. I think you should buy yourself a vehicle.”

  Laurel sat up straight on the sofa. “But I wouldn’t know what to get because I don’t know where I’m going to live or what I’ll be doing. Do I want a vehicle that can handle the snow here or just a little compact car to zip around a city in? I can’t make that decision yet.”

  “Honey,” Jane said gently, “that’s my point. You’re refusing to make decisions about anything of consequence, and that’s not good, not moving forward with your life one iota. So I’m going to push you into making a choice about a vehicle. You have to start somewhere, Laurel.”

  “No, I’m not ready.” Laurel paused. “You’re right. I have to start somewhere. Would you like to go over to Flagstaff with me tomorrow and look at cars? You didn’t schedule either of us to work at the café.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jane said. “Neither one of us knows a thing about vehicles. There’s more to buying one than kicking the tires. When I bought the car I’m driving now, Ben went with me. He knew all the questions to ask and what to watch for during a test drive. I’ve been very pleased with the one I’ve got.”

  “Oh, no way,” Laurel said, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Like I’m really going to ask Ben Skeeter to help me pick out a car. Not in this lifetime, Mother.”

  Jane shrugged. “He’s the best man for the job. Of course, he may have to work. Or there’s the possibility that he wouldn’t want to spend that much time with you since you’re so convinced he hates you with a passion.”

  “He wouldn’t have to speak to me,” Laurel said. “No, forget it. It’s a ridiculous idea.” She paused. “Then again, it would be strictly business. No. No way. But I am a mature woman who is perfectly capable of setting aside my personal feelings for Ben and concentrating on the purpose for the outing. I would expect the same from him.”

  “I see,” Jane said, smothering a bubble of laughter. “That’s very mature of you, dear. Of course, the news will spread like wildfire if you two go off for the day.”

  “I’ve had enough of worrying about what people are thinking about me and Ben,” Laurel said. “Let them go nuts. They will, of course, because look what a dither everyone got in after the don’t-cut-your-hair fiasco.

  “If I’m going to start taking steps to move forward with my life I can’t allow myself to be dictated to by a town full of bored people who thrive on gossip. So there.”

  “That’s fine, very good. Then you’ll ask Ben to help you select a vehicle? That’s a wise choice and I’m glad you made it.”

  “Me, too. I’ll go call him right now.” Laurel got to her feet. “I don’t know his phone number.”

  “It’s in the book. You haven’t seen the house Ben had built. We had a housewarming for him and it’s absolutely gorgeous. You can’t see it from the road, so maybe he’ll invite you to take a tour.”

  “No, he won’t, and I have no desire to see it, anyway,” Laurel said. “He always wanted an A-frame home with lots of windows and a loft type of thing. Is that what he… Never mind. I don’t really care. I’m focused on getting a vehicle and that’s it. I’m asking the most knowledgeable person in that arena to assist me. It’s very simple.”

  As Laurel headed for the kitchen to find the telephone book and make the call, Jane smiled and patted herself on the shoulder.

  “Jane Nelson Windsong,” she said, “you’re good. That was brilliant. Ah, yes, it’s nice to know that I haven’t lost my touch.”

  Ben sat in his favorite chair and scraped the last bite of ice cream from the big bowl he was holding as he watched an old made-for-television movie.

  He and Laurel had watched this movie together years ago when it had first been released, he mused. He remembered how she’d curled up next to him on the sofa in her living room as they’d shared a batch of popcorn. Jane hadn’t been home that evening, although he couldn’t recall where she had gone.

  Yeah, he’d seen this movie with Laurel and he knew how it ended. What he hadn’t known at the time was how his relationship with Laurel Windsong was going to end. The people in the movie were destined to live happily ever after. Ben Skeeter? Hell.

  The telephone rang, bringing him from his gloomy thoughts. In the next instant he frowned, hoping it wasn’t one of his deputies needing him to come assist in a problem situation. He strode into the kitchen and snatched up the receiver to the telephone that was sitting on the end of the counter.

  “Sheriff Skeeter,” he said, setting down the bowl and spoon.

  “Ben? Hello, this is…”

  “Laurel,” Ben said, then grimaced in self-disgust as he realized he’d just revealed that he still recognized her voice on the phone. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is. I…um…I have a favor to ask of you, Ben. It’s a business proposition, really. I need the best advice I can get in regard to purchasing a vehicle, and you are an expert about such things. If you’d be willing to go to Flagstaff to help me, I’ll pay for your gas and lunch. I’m continually inconveniencing my mother by borrowing her car. Well?”

  “I see,” Ben said, hooking his free hand on the back of his neck. “You do realize that people will talk if we go off together fo
r the day.”

  “I’m tired of worrying about what people are saying or not saying. I need a car. You’re the best person to help me select one. And that is that. Strictly business. As long as you and I know that, the heck with the gossips.”

  This was stupid, Ben thought. A whole day alone with Laurel? A whole day of not being able to kiss her again, not touch her, not pull her into his arms and…really dumb.

  But then again, maybe not. During those hours he’d be beaten over the head with her lack of caring for him. Strictly business, she’d said. That just might help get the message through to his mind—and his heart—that Laurel Windsong didn’t care about him, hadn’t in over ten years. Yeah, this just might be a good idea.

  “Ben?”

  “Okay, Laurel. I’ll help you select a vehicle. I’m off tomorrow.”

  “You are? Oh, well, so am I. What time is convenient for you?.”

  “I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning.”

  “Fine. Thank you, Ben. Oh, one other thing. I haven’t called Dove yet to ask what happened when she took dinner to Grandfather. Have you spoken to her?”

  “Yes, I called her. She said that Grandfather thanked her for the meal but didn’t really seem to want to chat, so she left.”

  “But he loves to have company.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “I’m really worried about him, Ben.”

  “Well, the three of us are going to have an eye on him and keep each other posted so we can hopefully figure out what is going on with Grandfather. He may be fine in a few days.”

  “I hope so,” Laurel said. “I’ll let you go. Thank you for being willing to help me tomorrow. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Yeah. Good night, Laurel.”

  “Good night, Ben.”

  Ben replaced the receiver very slowly, then didn’t release his hold on it, not wanting to totally break the connection with Laurel.

  Aw, damn, he thought, finally snatching his hand away. He loved her so much. He couldn’t go on like this, because it was ripping him to shreds and had been ever since she’d come home. Tomorrow had to help him, it just had to. All those hours would be spent with Laurel treating him like anyone else she’d grown up with. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a guy.