Mountain Laurel Read online

  "What?" Laurel wasn't in the habit of interrupting others, but she was that taken aback by her mother's demeanor.

  "Just a little longer, dear."

  "Mom, what's wrong? Why are you whispering?"

  "Nothing's wrong, Laurel." Her mother's tone held a touch of indignation.

  "Mom—"

  "Laurel, will you listen to me?"

  It had been a long, long time since her mom had spoken to her so sharply.

  "Your father and I...we've been talking. We've been spending time together, enjoying each other. It's as though we've started over. Please, Laurel, give me a little more time alone with him."

  Laurel was so surprised she was speechless.

  "Your dad is planning something wonderful for Ginny, too. He's opening a small branch shop and he wants her to manage it. She'll love it, don't you think?"

  Again, Laurel couldn't find the words to answer.

  "She'll have something of her very own. It's going to be right on the boardwalk. Laurel?"

  "I'm here, Mom. I don't know what to say. You sound so...so..."

  "Happy?" her mother provided.

  Laurel swallowed. Different was the word that floated through her mind. Amazingly different.

  "Yes," she said. "I guess that's it."

  "Don't sound so upset." An underlying mirth made the words sparkle.

  Tears of joy filled Laurel's eyes. "No...it's just...I'm..."

  "You tell Gin what's waiting for her here. And tell her I love her."

  "I will. I love you, Mom—Dad, too." Laurel could barely get the words out.

  "I love you, too. And, Laurel, that young man I spoke to—he seems very nice."

  "He is," Laurel said vaguely, preoccupied by the miraculous change in her mother.

  "Bye, sweetheart. I'll see you in a couple of weeks." Laurel stared at the dead phone in her hand. The whole conversation had been incredible. Her mother had said that she loved her. Laurel had known forever that her mother loved her—she had never doubted it for a minute—but it had been years since she'd actually heard the words out loud.

  What was that last thing her mom had said? "I'll see you in a couple of weeks." The statement brought her up short. Two more weeks? She looked across the room at Michael, whose dark eyes were waiting, glinting with some hidden pleasure.

  How could she possibly survive for another couple of weeks without succumbing to the feelings she had for him? A couple of days, maybe. But never for two full weeks! She was sure to make a fool of herself, just as she had when she'd first met him. The thought of those first disastrous meetings with Michael sent a pang of embarrassment through her. Over and over, she'd looked like a blubbering idiot.

  She couldn't go through that again. From where she stood she saw two options. She could stay and ultimately give in to the powerful feelings she had for Michael, or she could cut and run. Even an idiot could realize that only one of those options was viable. One option that is, if she wanted to be left with any amount of self- respect. She couldn't make a fool of herself. She had to leave. She had to get away from him.

  Placing the receiver into its cradle, she walked slowly, calmly, over to where her sister and Michael sat. She used each methodical step to plan the best way to deliver her news.

  "Isn't it great?" Ginny said when Laurel reached the sofa. "Michael told me that Mom sounds fantastic. She wants us to stay out here for two more weeks."

  Laurel avoided Michael's eyes. She sat down next to Ginny and plastered a bright smile on her face.

  "Dad has a wonderful surprise for you."

  "For me?"

  Laurel knew Ginny's thoughts about staying were forgotten as her expression took on an air of excited expectation.

  "Yes," Laurel said. "And we have to go home right away." She sensed rather than saw Michael go utterly still. She ignored him, wanting to keep Ginny's excitement high. "You're going to have a store of your own. Right on the boardwalk."

  "You mean...to manage...on my own?"

  "Uh-uh. All on your own."

  Ginny squealed and hugged Laurel to her. "A store of my own! I can't believe it." She sat back and looked at Laurel, her smile fading. "But I don't know how to manage a store." She gazed across the room, a faraway look in her eyes. "I've stocked shelves and managed the till. But...but..." She looked back at Laurel, panic written on her face. "Laurel, I'm going to need some help. I don't know the first thing about keeping the books. I've never hired staff. I've never... Oh, Laurel, what if I fail?"

  Laurel smiled. "Don't worry. You'll learn everything eventually. And it'll be easier than you think." Looking at the eager flush that warmed Ginny's cheeks, Laurel couldn't help but know that this was the perfect answer to Ginny's problems. Her parents had come up with the ideal solution. Giving Ginny a purpose was like handing her the key to a locked door, a door that led to responsibility and maturity.

  Michael sat straight and tense, watching the scene unfold before him. Laurel purposefully avoided eye contact with him. Why was she not telling Ginny the truth? He was certain that Laurel's mother wanted her daughters to extend their vacation. Mrs. Morgan had told him that she needed more time with her husband, and after what Laurel had told him about her mother's condition, he had marveled at this turn of events. He'd also felt as though he'd been handed a reprieve. With Laurel staying on Spring Mountain at least two more weeks; he would have the time he needed to show her how he felt. But here she was telling Ginny they had to leave immediately. Well, he refused to let her bolt like a skittish doe.

  Clearing his throat to get their attention, he said, "Laurel, your mother explicitly told me that she'd like you and Ginny to stay. I assured her there were plenty of sights you haven't seen."

  Laurel refused to look at him. She knew to meet his gaze would be her downfall. She wanted him so badly she couldn't stand it. But she couldn't have him and not bare her soul. She wanted something more than merely a vacation fling. And that was impossible. He lived and worked in the mountains of Western Maryland. She lived and worked hundreds of miles away on the seashore. It was too complicated. She had to leave here because she couldn't bring herself to take only a part of him and not reach out for the whole.

  "Michael told me that Mom and Dad are talking." Ginny's voice was lowered in awe. She took Laurel's hand. "As excited as I am about having my own shop, I think we should stay. Laurel, if they need more time together, we should give it to them." Ginny looked at Michael. "It's okay if we stay in Jim's cabin, isn't it?"

  "Sure." He turned to Laurel. "We've had fun so far, Laurel. I'd like you to stay."

  She sucked in her breath. Is that what he thought? Was that what he wanted? More fun? Jerking around to face him, she felt a knot rise in her throat. She needed to look at him, wanted to see the man he really was.

  She'd meant nothing to him. Nothing! All the time she'd spent learning to care for him, falling in love with him, had only added up to "fun" in his mind.

  "You want me to stay?" The words sounded raspy and harsh even to her own ears.

  Ginny must have felt the sudden burst of tension because she tugged her hand from Laurel's tight grasp, stood and said with false brightness, "Well, this has been a long day for me. I'm going to bed."

  Both Michael and Laurel kept their fixed stare as Ginny left the room. The hurt welled in Laurel's throat until she was sure it would suffocate. As she watched him sitting there, silent and expectant, her wounded feelings slowly turned to anger.

  "I asked you a question," Laurel said, her jaw so tight she could barely get the words out.

  He took a deep breath. "I heard you. And the answer is yes." He pressed his lips together, pausing a moment before adding, "But you knew that already."

  His eyes darkened with desire, and the knowledge that that was all he wanted from her pierced through her heart.

  Laurel stood and glared at him. Then she went over to the front door, turned the handle and pulled it open.

  Turning back to Michael, she said, "Thank y
ou for all of your help. I do appreciate everything that you've done for me. For Ginny. But I want you to know, Michael, that the play is over. The curtain's been drawn."

  The desire that had been evident on Michael's face slowly morphed from bewilderment, to irritation, to anger as he stood and walked toward her. When he reached her, he locked one hand around her upper arm and pulled her out onto the porch, closing the heavy door behind him. He towered over her, ire pulsing in the muscles of his jaw.

  "I can't believe you feel that way. I don't believe it.''

  Laurel pried her arm out of his grip and took a backward step. She kept her voice quiet and controlled. "Well, you better believe it. I'm finished playing. I'm going home. I'm going home as fast as my little legs will carry me."

  He heaved a deep, frustrated sigh. Why was she so set on leaving? He walked to the steps and stared up at the stars, rubbing one hand back and forth across his jaw as he dealt with chaos swirling in his chest.

  "What about your parents?" he said quietly. "Forget about us for now, us and the game we've been playing. You're mother made a request. Surely you want to give her the time she's asked for." He glanced at her over his shoulder, stuffing his hand deep into his pocket.

  Laurel stood there, her lips pressed tightly together. Of course, her parents needed time, and she wanted to give it to them but she couldn't stay here. She couldn't!

  "For God's sake, Laurel, your mother is trying to turn her life around. You've got to give her a little space to do it."

  "I'll go someplace else," she whispered. "Ginny and I can pack up the car and go someplace—"

  "You're running from me. From what we've enjoyed together," he said. He strode toward her, not stopping until he was inches from her face. "What happened to all your big talk about maturity, Laurel? What happened to—" He cut off the rest of his sentence, his head shaking in clear disgust. "You don't have to run from me."

  He exhaled, closed his eyes and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Look, if you're not ready to deal with reality, that's fine with me. You and Ginny can use the cabin as long as you like. You won't see me. I won't come around. You won't even know I live on the same mountain."

  He turned then and walked down the steps. Laurel directed her gaze at the thick stand of trees, not wanting to watch him leave. She listened as the truck's door opened and closed, the engine revved and the tires crunched on the gravel as he drove out of her life.

  Engulfed by empty silence, she glanced over her shoulder. The empty lane, engulfed by the chilly black night, mirrored her perception of what life would be like for her now. She had succeeded on putting an end to any chance that she and Michael would spend any of her remaining vacation time together. She eased herself down on the porch rocker and looked out into the dark forest, tears slipping unchecked down her cheeks.

  "Why couldn't you understand?" she whispered. "Satisfying the wanting isn't enough without the loving. I couldn't give you just a piece of me. It was all or nothing."

  Chapter Ten

  Winded from her trek up the steep mountain trail, Laurel stopped to catch her breath. The valley looked as colorful as a vibrant abstract painting, and blue-gray clouds billowed high in the sky above. She remembered Michael telling her that when the "blue smoke" rolled in, snow was sure to follow.

  She shivered, not knowing whether her shaking was caused by thoughts of snow or the fact that merely thinking Michael's name brought his face, sharp and clear, to her mind. Defiantly pushing his image aside, she zipped up her jacket and continued her hike.

  She crossed the meadow at the top of the mountain and was standing under the huge, lone oak tree before she realized that she'd arrived at the spot where she and Michael had shared their picnic.

  What had brought her here? She had purposefully avoided all the places they had visited together—until today. Today every place she went to brought thoughts of him. Was her subconscious deliberately leading her along a poignant path?

  It had been five long, empty days since she and Michael had so unpleasantly parted. She'd spent most of them tramping through the forests, trying to keep herself busy, trying to think of anything but Michael. However, she'd found it impossible. The harder she tried not to think of him, the more he filled her thoughts.

  The nights were even worse. Endless, sleepless nights spent staring at the moon through the window. What little sleep she did get was riddled with horrible, gut-wrenching dreams, dreams of Michael coming to her only to tender a scathing laugh and turn away, leaving her alone to fret and pine and wait for him again.

  She looked up through the branches of the huge tree and wished she could shed these thoughts of Michael as easily as the oak sloughed off its leaves each autumn. Lowering herself to the ground, she leaned against the rough bark and sighed. A tear slid down her face and dropped onto the back of her hand.

  "Stop it!" she muttered, dashing the moisture away. "It's over. It's all over."

  In the days since he'd said goodbye, Michael had been true to his word. Laurel hadn't seen hide or hair of him. Not that she was hoping to—in fact, she'd been relieved not to have to face him.

  She couldn't get things straight in her mind. She thought that knowing Michael wanted her purely on a physical basis would diminish her desire for him, but her feelings were just as strong as ever.

  "This is crazy!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. Two blackbirds bolted from the branches overhead. She sat still as her words were carried away by the greedy breeze.

  I can't do this anymore, she thought. This is absolute torture. I'll go insane if I stay in these mountains a moment longer.

  She closed her eyes and tried to think of home. Ocean City. The shops, the crowds of vacationers, the beach, the dunes, the seagulls. Everything she knew so well. But her thoughts kept turning back to the lush woods, the gurgling streams, the wildflowers, the critters, the craggy cliffs, the awe-inspiring beauty of Maryland's mountains.

  In a little over a week she'd be returning to the city, and she was uneasy about what she might find. Things would certainly be different. With Jim managing the old store and Ginny having her own shop, her father at home and her mother happy to have him there, Laurel couldn't help wondering where she would fit in. Oh, she was sure they wouldn't shut her out; she'd been the center of everyone's world for far too long. But things wouldn't be the same. She wasn't the same. And neither was anyone else.

  What was she going to do with herself? In the past she'd filled so many voids for her family; parent for Ginny, caretaker for her mother, business manager at the shop for her father. But those holes seemed to be growing smaller and smaller, and she was left doubting where that left her. Dragging in a lungful of the cool mountain air, she felt a tremendous longing to stay in this wild, wonderful place, to see what the winter did to this mountain paradise. These hills would look magnificent coated by crystalline snow.

  Stop! She shook her head, erasing the picture. Home was where she belonged. She had to return to the place where she used to be needed.

  I'm going to cry again, she thought incredulously. She never cried. She'd always been the strong one. She needed something, anything, to divert her attention from all this sadness. Taking another deep breath, she stood and brushed off the back of her trousers. She'd go find Ginny. Then they'd pick up a pizza and have dinner with Darlene and the baby.

  Darlene's newborn son had a way of making everything seem bright and cheerful.

  Her decision made, she started walking briskly toward the cabin.

  ~ ~ ~

  "Laurel, why won't you talk about it? Why do you keep changing the subject?" Ginny's questions hung in the air, tense and awkward. "You're dancing around like your life depended on it."

  The three of them, Laurel, Ginny and Darlene, sat sharing a pizza smothered with every topping the small take-out shop had to offer.

  Laurel lowered the slice she was about to take a bite of and stared at her sister. "I don't know what you mean. I haven't moved from this spot since
I arrived."

  Ginny just glared in response.

  Finally, Laurel signed. "What is it you want me to talk about?" she challenged.

  "You know exactly what I want to talk about," Ginny said. "Michael." She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "And you."

  "There's nothing to discuss, Gin." Laurel used a tone that would normally convey "Leave it alone," but Ginny wouldn't be put off.

  "Give me a break."

  "Yeah, give us a break," Darlene chimed in. "We're all family here, right? So tell us what happened."

  Ginny jumped in again. "You've moped around here for days. Half the time you've had tears in your eyes. The other half you look like you're sleepwalking."

  "I think I'll go check on the baby." Laurel started to rise but was thwarted as both Ginny and Darlene reached out to hold her arms, guiding her gently back down to her seat.

  "The baby's fine," Darlene said.

  "His belly's full and he's sleeping like a log. So," Ginny coaxed, taking another slice of pizza from the box, "tell us."

  "Yes, tell us." Darlene slid back on the couch, ready to listen.

  Laurel looked from one to the other. "You guys are ganging up on me, and I don't like it very much."

  "We decided that it was the only way we could get you to spill it," Ginny explained.

  "There's nothing to tell—"

  "There is something to tell," Darlene interrupted. "You've been miserable and we know it has something to do with my almost cousin-in-law."

  "Michael?" Laurel's voice was sharp. "What's he said to you?"

  "Nothing." Ginny shook her head, thoroughly disgusted. "We can't get him to talk, either. You two were inseparable ever since we got here. Then all of a sudden you're not even speaking to each other. And here I was sure you guys were getting serious. So? What happened?"

  Laurel's gaze passed from Ginny to Darlene and back to Ginny. What harm could it do to tell them the truth? she wondered. With all hope of Ginny attending college gone, what did it matter if Laurel fessed up to what she'd done? Besides, talking about it might make her feel better, might help her to sort things out in her own head.