A Wedding in Willow Valley (Willow Valley Women) Read online

  Ben drew a ragged breath, then moved off of Laurel. Without meeting her gaze he turned and dressed as she did the same. Ben got to his feet as Laurel once again curled up on the blankets. He looked down at her for a long moment, then left the hogan.

  When he stood outside in the crisp, chill air, Ben realized that from the time he’d entered the hogan, then returned to where he was standing, not one word had been spoken.

  He dragged both hands down his face.

  Not one word, he thought, an achy sensation gripping his throat, because there was nothing left to say.

  Inside the hogan Laurel whispered Ben’s name, then drifted into a strange, uneasy sleep. Images began to take shape in her mental vision, images she knew were dreams, yet she was unable to waken.

  In a hazy mist she saw herself, Dove and Ben as children, sitting on the broad back of Thunder. Then the picture evolved and she was alone on the magnificent horse as a grown woman. Grandfather appeared, then they were sitting together on the ground in front of a fire, Thunder now nowhere in sight. There was just the two of them—herself and her beloved Grandfather.

  “Grandfather?” she whispered. “How can you be here? You have left us, crossed the rainbow bridge to the other side.”

  “I have come to you, Dahetihhi, my little hummingbird,” Grandfather said, his voice sounding as though it was echoing from a faraway place. “I cannot finish my journey across the rainbow bridge to rest in peace because you have not completed what you must do. The demons still hold you in an iron fist.”

  “I can’t defeat them, Grandfather,” Laurel said, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I’ve tried, but…”

  “Stop. I won’t hear these words from you, Dahetihhi,” he said, frowning. “You are a Navajo from your father’s blood. We believe that no one will ever be perfect in any endeavor they pursue. We are a humble people, yet you are placing yourself above others.”

  “Me? No, no, I don’t believe I’m better than others. I failed, Grandfather. I told you what happened in Virginia. I wasn’t good enough, and because I failed…”

  “No,” he said sharply. “You did not fail. You did your very best, which is the Navajo way. You were fooled by a mind quicker than yours, one that was determined to go his own way, and nothing or no one could have stopped him. You take the blame for what was not your fault.

  “The demons of guilt and shame will hold you fast forever if you don’t listen to me. You think you should have been able to do what no one could, be perfect, which is not the Navajo way. Do you hear me, Laurel Windsong?”

  Laurel sat up straighter, a new and comforting warmth suffusing her.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I finally hear you, really hear you, Grandfather. I did my best. I did. I have nothing…oh, God, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

  “You’re right. No one could have changed how things went, what happened. No one. Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry it took me so long to understand, to defeat the demons. I’m so sorry I kept you from your final journey. How can I thank you for coming to me here in what I know is a dream but yet is so real?”

  “Live and love and be happy, my Dahetihhi. Follow your heart that has been freed at long last. I am ready now to go to the other side and rest in peace beyond the life here on Mother Earth. Hagoonee, Laurel.”

  “Goodbye, Grandfather,” she said, dashing tears from her cheeks. “I’ll miss you so much. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I love you, Grandfather. Hagoonee.”

  “Ha…goo…nee,” he said as a gray mist swirled around him and he disappeared.

  More than an hour later Laurel stirred, then sat up, not certain at first where she was. She shook her head slightly to chase away the fogginess from the deep sleep, then her eyes widened.

  She’d dreamed of Grandfather, she thought. He had spoken to her and she had finally, finally, heard the wisdom of his words.

  What had happened in Virginia was not her fault.

  She had defeated the demons that had held her fast.

  She was free to live and love.

  Love Ben.

  Laurel frowned.

  Ben, she thought. Had that been a dream, too? Or had Ben really entered the hogan, taken her into his arms and… They hadn’t spoken, hadn’t said one word aloud, but had shared lovemaking so incredibly beautiful. Had that been a dream?

  Laurel shifted on the blanket, and the achy sensations in her body told her that Ben had truly come to her as she’d wept. They had reached for each other, comforted each other, made love that required that no words be spoken.

  Benjamin Skeeter, she thought, a soft smile forming on her lips. The only man she had ever loved. She was free now of the ghosts of the past, could go to him with her heart filled with love for him, only him. All the hopes and dreams they’d planned on years before could now come true because of the incredible dream.

  She loved Ben. Ben loved her. The future was theirs to share. Together. Forever. They were getting a second chance, could begin again.

  She had to go to Ben, she thought, getting to her feet. She’d tell him, finally, of the nightmare in Virginia that had sent her running home like a frightened child. She’d tell him of the dream she’d had in the hogan and how she’d listened—and really heard—Grandfather’s words and found her inner peace. Yes, she had to go to Ben. Now.

  Laurel turned and picked up her jacket. Her breath caught as she saw a small rawhide pouch that had been covered by her jacket when she’d dropped it upon entering the hogan. A tiny piece of paper was pinned to the pouch.

  The paper had one word written on it.

  Dahetihhi.

  Laurel dropped to her knees and with trembling hands, opened the pouch and tipped it toward one palm, gasping as she saw what tumbled out.

  It was Grandfather’s turquoise stone.

  Fresh tears filled Laurel’s eyes and she smiled as she curled her fingers around the precious gift.

  Grandfather had left the stone for her so she would be able to gather her inner strength and courage if she faltered. He had wanted to be assured that she wouldn’t fall prey again to the demons.

  “Oh, Grandfather,” she said, hugging the stone against her heart. “How do I thank you? You’ve given me so much, so very much. You’ve given me my life back, my freedom, my Ben.” Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you. Ahehee. Ahehee. Thank you.”

  Carefully, Laurel placed the stone back in the pouch, put it in the pocket of her jacket and zipped it closed. She got to her feet, put on the jacket and went to the door. She turned and looked back, sweeping her gaze over the hogan.

  The door would be sealed soon, she thought. She’d never step inside this place again, but she would never forget what had transpired here and she would be eternally grateful to the wise and wonderful man who had ended his days on Mother Earth within these walls.

  “Hagoonee,” she said. “Goodbye, my Grandfather. Rest in peace.”

  A chill wind whipped against Laurel when she left the hogan. The sky was gray with approaching rain and the curtain of the darkness of night waiting to fall. She hurried to her van and drove away from the hogan, only to stop before she’d gone very far.

  As much as she wanted to see Ben, she thought, she should wait until tomorrow. She was exhausted and emotionally drained, despite her nap in the hogan. She had so much to tell Ben, explain to him, and she needed to be strong, not end up a weepy mess unable to make sense of all she needed to say. Yes, she’d wait until tomorrow.

  Laurel pressed on the gas pedal and drove slowly on. When she passed Dove’s house, she was tempted to stop, but resisted the urge to finally tell her best friend what had happened in Virginia.

  And when she got home, she decided, she would somehow not reveal to her mother what had happened in the hogan, would not show her mother Grandfather’s gift of the turquoise stone. No, Ben must be the first to learn of all that had taken place. That was the way it should—and would—be done.

  When Laurel entered the house, Jane got quickly to
her feet.

  “Oh, heavens, I’ve been so worried about you, Laurel,” she said. “You were gone so long. Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  Laurel rested her hand lightly on the pocket of the jacket where the soft pouch was nestled.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. “I’m fine. I’m sorry if you were concerned, Mother. I lost track of time, but, oh, Mom, I’m more than fine. I’m at peace at long last. What happened in Virginia wasn’t my fault. I understand that now because Grandfather…Well, let’s just say I finally heard what I couldn’t hear before.”

  “Darling, that’s wonderful,” Jane said, hugging Laurel. She moved back to look into her daughter’s eyes. “Yes, the ghosts are gone. Your eyes are bright and sparkling. I’m so happy for you.”

  Laurel laughed. “And I’m so hungry. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  “No, I was waiting for you, doing my worried-mother thing that requires that I lose my appetite,” Jane said, smiling. “But now that you’re home and have such glorious news, I’m starving. Go wash up, then let’s make omelets and toss all kinds of goodies into them, everything we can find in the refrigerator. And we’ll have buttery toast and hot chocolate and…”

  Jane was still listing the menu for dinner as she disappeared into the kitchen. Laurel went into her bedroom and hung her jacket in the closet. She removed the pouch from the pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed, opening it with gentle care, to assure herself that the stone was really there. She stroked the beautiful blue turquoise with one fingertip, a peaceful smile forming on her lips.

  “Laurel,” Jane called in the distance. “Are you coming, honey?”

  “Yes, I’ll be right there, Mother. I just need to wash my hands.”

  Laurel placed the pouch in the small drawer of the nightstand next to the bed.

  Tomorrow, she thought, getting to her feet. Tomorrow she would go to Ben and tell him everything. She would count down the hours until tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  Laurel slept late the next morning and woke feeling well rested. She showered and dressed in jeans and a bright blue sweater, acutely aware of her sense of anticipation about seeing Ben.

  She also knew that the comforting warmth that was deep within her was the inner peace she now possessed regarding what had transpired in Virginia due to the dream about Grandfather in the hogan.

  She removed the precious pouch from the nightstand drawer, zipped it into the pocket of her red jacket, which she left hanging in the closet, then went into the kitchen for something to eat.

  A note on the table from her mother informed Laurel that Jane had gone to early church, then was heading out to the rez to pick apples with May for cobbler to serve at the café.

  “Okay,” Laurel said, then fixed herself some toast and coffee.

  After cleaning up following her meal, Laurel stared at the telephone on the kitchen wall, drew a steadying breath, then lifted the receiver and punched in the numbers for Ben’s house. When the answering machine clicked on, she hung up without leaving a message.

  Next she called the sheriff’s office and was greeted by a cheerful Bobby.

  “Nope, it’s his day off, Laurel,” Bobby said. “He’s going to ride Thunder for a while, then do some fishing on the far side of the rez. He has his hand radio with him, but he told me not to bother him unless it was a real emergency.” He paused. “Do you need to talk to him about a real emergency?”

  Yes, Bobby, Laurel mentally yelled. She was finally ready to tell Ben everything she had been keeping from him, the secrets within her that had stood between them. She wanted to see him, touch him, kiss him, declare her love for him over and over and make sweet, slow love with him for hours.

  She wanted to talk with him about their future life together, the babies they would have and… Yes, this was an emergency. Ten years had already been lost, and that was far, far too many.

  “No, it’s not an emergency, Bobby,” she said quietly. “I’ll catch up with him later.”

  “Any message?”

  “No, thank you, that won’t be necessary. Have a nice day, Bobby.” Laurel replaced the receiver. “Darn.”

  Three hours later she was so tired of pacing back and forth across the small living room that she called Ben’s house again and left a message on his machine, asking him to telephone her when he arrived home, her pride not allowing her to drive from one end of the rez to the other to look for him.

  At ten o’clock that night Laurel went to bed, having heard nothing from Benjamin Skeeter.

  The next day Laurel repeated her call to Ben’s house, then to the office. Bobby informed her that Ben was in court in Prescott for the day, dealing with a DWI charge against one of the guys from the rez.

  “Any message, Laurel?” Bobby said.

  “No, thank you, Bobby, but… No,” she said, then sighed as she hung up the receiver.

  She left another request on Ben’s answering machine to call her, but bedtime came with the telephone in the Windsong home being silent the entire evening.

  On Tuesday morning Laurel asked her mother to please call her from the café if Ben came in for lunch.

  “Oh?” Jane said, slipping on her coat. “Well, sure, all right. And then what?”

  “I’ll come down there, because I need to speak to him,” Laurel said, not looking directly at her mother.

  “I see. It must be important.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Should I tell him you’re on your way?” Jane said, raising her eyebrows.

  “That’s not necessary,” Laurel said. “Just let me know if he’s there. Have any clothes you want washed?”

  Jane laughed. “That’s the line that means mind my own business. Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Hagoonee,” Laurel said dismally.

  The delay in being able to talk to Ben, Laurel admitted to herself after her mother left the house, had caused her to become a nervous wreck. The wonderful sense of anticipation had changed into a bevy of butterflies that had taken up residency in her stomach.

  Shortly after one o’clock Jane called from the café to say that Ben had just arrived and ordered a lunch of chili and corn bread.

  “I don’t need to know what he’s going to eat,” Laurel said sharply. “I… Oh, Mother, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. My nerves are just a tad… I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Jane said, smiling. “And you don’t need to tell me how tense you are, Laurel. I live with you, remember? You’re like a clock that’s being wound tighter and tighter over the past few days.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, hop in your pretty red van and zip down here before Ben gets away,” Jane said. “Our carpet can’t stand much more of your pacing.”

  “Oh. Well. I didn’t realize that you were aware that I… Forget it,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing gets past you because you’re a mother.”

  “Exactly. Ta-ta.”

  Laurel hung up the receiver, pressed one hand on her butterfly-filled stomach then rushed to her room for her jacket. She checked the pocket to be certain that the pouch with the beautiful stone was still safely there, then left the house.

  Outside the Windsong Café Laurel hesitated, gathered her courage, told herself to forget her misplaced pride, then entered. She slid into the bench seat opposite Ben in the booth where he was buttering a piece of corn bread, the cast on his hand causing him no problems with the process.

  “Hello, Ben,” she said quietly, unable to produce a smile.

  “Laurel,” he said, glancing up at her with no readable expression on his face.

  She folded her hands in her lap, then lifted her chin.

  “You haven’t returned my calls,” she said.

  “No, I haven’t,” he said, then took a bite of the corn bread.

  “Why?”

  Ben chewed and swallowed, then looked directly at her.

  “Because I don’t think we have anything to discuss, Laurel. There were things on the tabl
e for a while, like the prospect of us continuing to see each other, but that’s no longer an option, so…” He shrugged.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, feeling the color drain from her face.

  Ben leaned slightly forward. “We have nothing to discuss. Is that clear enough for you? Are we communicating here? If you’ll excuse me, Laurel, I’d like to finish my lunch. Okay?”

  “Yes, of course, I…” Laurel said, her voice trembling.

  But then she stopped and splayed her hand on the pocket of her jacket where Grandfather’s stone was nestled.

  “No, it’s not okay, Benjamin Skeeter,” she said, her eyes flashing. “I want to talk to you. I intend to talk to you. Nothing is going to keep me from talking to you. I’d prefer to have that conversation in private, and I will. Therefore, be at your house at seven o’clock this evening. Be there. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Ben opened his mouth to retort, then realized he was so stunned by Laurel’s outburst that nothing was going to come out, and snapped his mouth closed again. He nodded jerkily as he stared at her.

  “Fine,” she said, then slid from the booth and hurried out of the café.

  Ben looked up to see a dozen pairs of eyes riveted on him, then hunched over his bowl and shoveled in a spoonful of chili.

  That evening, after a dinner Laurel had taken four bites of while ignoring the amused expression on her mother’s face, she dressed in gray slacks and a soft cranberry-colored sweater.

  This had been, she thought as she brushed her hair, one of the longest afternoons of her entire life. How had it come to this? Her entire future happiness depended on what took place at Ben’s house tonight. If he refused to listen to her, to really hear what she was saying, then… No. She couldn’t bear the thought of that. She just couldn’t.

  She reached behind her head to begin to braid her hair, then hesitated.