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

  “Thank you,” Laurel said.

  She and Ben left the dealership and a short time later were sitting in a booth and placing orders for lunch in a Mexican restaurant. Laurel dipped a corn tortilla chip in a small bowl of salsa and popped it into her mouth.

  “Mmm,” she said. “Just as good as I remember. This is my favorite restaurant in Flagstaff.”

  “Mine, too,” Ben said.

  “I know,” Laurel said, reaching for another chip.

  “You know a great deal about me,” Ben said quietly. “I remember when I told you everything that was on my mind, big, little and in between.”

  “That was a long time ago, Ben,” Laurel said, fiddling with her spoon. “There’s no purpose to be served by talking about the past. What’s done is done. We’d both do well to adopt what you believe would be Grandfather’s philosophy about what happened. We just weren’t meant to be together, to have what we were so sure back then was right for us.” She paused. “I don’t think we should discuss this again.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, turning to look out the window of the restaurant. “Okay.”

  “Are…are we going to at least be friends, Ben?”

  “I don’t know, Laurel,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I really don’t know the answer to that right now.”

  “Plates are hot, folks,” the waitress said, appearing at the table. “There you go. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Laurel picked up her fork and stared at the cheese enchiladas she’d ordered, realizing her appetite had vanished. She forced herself to take a bite, produced a smile of approval and shoveled in another forkful.

  Ben ate half of his selection of a bean burrito and three beef tacos, then pushed his plate to one side. He sank back in the booth and folded his arms over his chest.

  “What’s wrong, Ben?” Laurel said. “I’ve never seen you leave even one tiny morsel on your plate when we’ve eaten here.”

  “What’s wrong? I’m not hungry.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “What’s wrong? I’m not Grandfather. I’m not as wise and full of wisdom as he is. I’m just plain old Benjamin Skeeter, who is mad as hell about what happened ten years ago, Laurel. We thought we were so connected, like…like one entity, soul mates, and it turns out we didn’t even know how to talk, communicate with each other. Soul mates? What a joke.”

  “We were so young then, Ben,” Laurel said, a frantic edge to her voice. “We made a mistake. We listened, but we didn’t really hear what the other one was saying because we were focused on our own agendas. It’s very sad, but being angry isn’t going to change anything. Maybe we would have been miserable together if we’d gotten married.”

  “Do you honestly believe that?” he said, leaning closer to her.

  “I…I don’t know. I just don’t know. We’ll never know, Ben, because we’re not the same people now that we were then. Ten years is a long time, and we’ve changed, both of us. We’re almost like strangers, really. Yes, we have a history, but we don’t have a present or…or a future together.”

  “Strangers,” Ben said, a rough edge to his voice. “Just what do you suggest we do with all the memories that belong to the history part you’re referring to, Laurel? How do we forget what it was like to make love together? Answer me that.”

  “Ben, don’t,” Laurel whispered. “Please. Just don’t.”

  “I can’t sit here anymore,” Ben said, sliding out of the booth. “Finish your lunch and I’ll meet you back at the car lot.”

  “No, Ben, wait,” Laurel said. “I can’t eat this. I’m paying for lunch, like I promised.”

  Ben snatched up the check from the table. “Like you promised? Promised? I don’t think you know the definition of that word, Laurel.”

  Laurel got to her feet. “Don’t you dare say that. What happened was as much your fault as it was mine.” She glanced quickly around and saw that several customers were staring at them. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Ben tossed some bills on the table for a tip, then strode to the register at the entrance of the restaurant and paid the check. Laurel followed him, her heart aching as she struggled against threatening tears. They made the three-block walk back to the car dealership in total silence. Before entering the lot, Ben stopped and Laurel halted next to him, looking up at him questioningly.

  “I need time to deal with what came to light today,” he said, his voice flat. “Right now I’m just mad as hell, and that’s not a good place to be. Just…just stay out of my way until I can get a grip on this.”

  “But…”

  “Keep away from me, Laurel,” he said, tugging his Stetson low on his forehead. “Do you understand? Just keep the hell away from me.”

  Ben started off again, heading for the office on the car lot. Laurel hardly remembered the enthusiastic chatter of the salesman, who handed her a folder with her copies of the paperwork, then gave her the keys to the van as he beamed. She thanked him, he thanked her, then Ben told her to follow him back to Willow Valley on the off chance she had problems driving a vehicle she wasn’t familiar with yet.

  “Yes, all right,” Laurel said, not really looking at Ben. “I appreciate your coming with me today and making certain I get home safely.”

  “I’d do the same for any stranger,” Ben said, then turned and strode to where he’d parked his Tahoe.

  As they drove out of Flagstaff, a funny little bubble of laughter escaped from Laurel’s lips as she realized that the jacket she was wearing was the exact same shade as her new van.

  “Is that cute or corny?” she said, then sniffled.

  Laurel Windsong, she thought, don’t you dare start crying. She’d drive her super-duper new van right into a tree if she started blubbering like an idiot.

  But she was just so sad.

  To think that Ben would have been willing to compromise about her wanting a degree in psychology if she’d gone to a college closer to Willow Valley, but believed she’d chosen to put as much distance between them as possible on purpose was just so incredibly sad.

  She’d told him about the scholarship to Virginia, but he hadn’t heard her say the words, had stopped comprehending what she’d been saying when he’d realized she was leaving.

  God, ten years. Ten years of heartache, of sleepless nights and hours of weeping, all because of a misunderstanding. Ben was right, she thought miserably, it was a lot to deal with, so difficult to find a place to put the truth of what had really happened.

  She’d gotten stuck on the emotion of sorrow. Ben was engulfed in anger to the point that he’d ordered her to stay away from him. Shattered dreams. Ten years. And now they were strangers. She was in love with the Ben of then but didn’t really know the Ben of now. And that was very, very sad.

  When Laurel and Ben were about twenty minutes outside of Willow Valley, he put on his turn signal and left the interstate on the off-ramp to a rest stop. He lowered the window on the Tahoe and motioned for Laurel to follow him.

  Laurel frowned, wondering if he could see something wrong with the van that she wasn’t aware of. She parked next to Ben and got out of the van, meeting him at the rear of her vehicle.

  “What’s wrong?” she said. “Am I getting a flat tire or something?”

  “No, no, the van is fine,” he said, “and you’re handling it very well.”

  Ben took off his Stetson, raked one hand through his hair and settled the Stetson back into place. A chill wind whipped across the parking lot, and Laurel shivered.

  “Then why did we stop?” she said, wrapping her hands around her elbows. “I’m freezing.”

  Ben sighed and stared up at the dark clouds for a long moment before meeting Laurel’s confused gaze.

  “I…I was pretty rough on you back there in Flagstaff,” he said, sounding weary. “I’ve been going over and over it since we started home and I want to apologize for ripping into you like that.” He shook his head. “You were right, Laurel. What happened was as much my fault as it was yours. I dumped all the blame
on you, and that wasn’t fair.”

  “Well,” Laurel said, her voice quivering slightly, “thank you for that, Ben.”

  “But one thing remains true,” he continued. “We are strangers. Yeah, we have memories of things—of sharing— What I’m trying to say here is that those memories belong to people who existed ten years ago. We’re not those people anymore.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Forget what I said about keeping away from me,” he said, frowning. “That was raw emotions talking and it was uncalled for. We’ll see each other around town, be polite, compare notes with Dove about what we find out about Grandfather’s health, be civil, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Just as strangers who have just met would be,” Laurel said, looking down at the tips of her tennis shoes. “Is that what you’re saying, Ben?”

  “Yeah. I guess that about sums it up.”

  “Sure,” Laurel said, drawing a line in the dirt with the toe of one shoe. “That makes sense. Strangers being polite and… Fine. That’s clear enough.”

  “Okay.” Ben nodded. “Listen, I was wondering if I could stop by your house on the way into town and find out what your mother thinks after visiting Grandfather today. Maybe she’ll have a good report, tell us that he was glad to see her, invited her in for a chat. You know, behaving as he normally would. Would you mind if I came by before I go home?”

  “No, not at all,” Laurel said, looking up at him. “I’ll see you at the house.”

  “Do you realize that your jacket matches your new van?” Ben said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  “Yes, and I couldn’t decide if that was corny or cute.”

  Ben raised one hand as though to touch her face, then dropped it back to his side.

  “It’s cute,” he said. “Way cool, as Eagle would say.”

  “Well, what more could a person want than to be way cool?”

  “Yeah.”

  They stood there for a timeless moment, looking deep into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the wind and the cold. They didn’t move or hardly breathe. Then thunder rumbled, the sudden noise jerking them from the hazy mist that seemed to have swirled around and encased them in a private place.

  Ben cleared his throat. “We’d better get going. I think it’s going to rain on your new van.”

  “Life has a way of raining on parades at times,” Laurel said quietly. “I’ll meet you at the house and we’ll get my mother’s report on Grandfather.”

  Big drops of rain began to fall, and Laurel turned and hurried to get inside the van at the same time Ben strode to his vehicle.

  “Goodbye, Ben,” Laurel whispered. “Goodbye, stranger.”

  At the Windsong home Jane came out carrying an umbrella and gushed over Laurel’s new purchase. Ben pulled into the driveway behind Laurel, and she scooted under the umbrella with her mother to go to the open window of Ben’s Tahoe.

  “I just wondered how you found Grandfather, Jane?” Ben said.

  “He wasn’t home,” Jane said. “You know he never locks his door, so I took the food I’d brought him inside and put it in the refrigerator. His truck wasn’t there, so he’d gone farther than just on a walk. I stopped by to say hello to Dove, then checked at Grandfather’s again after that, but he still wasn’t there. I have no idea where he went.”

  “Okay,” Ben said. “Thanks.”

  “Would you like to come in, Ben?” Jane said. “I made a big pot of vegetable soup we could all share for dinner later.”

  “No. Thanks, but no,” Ben said. “I’m going to go out to the rez and see if Grandfather’s back, then settle in by a warm fire at home. It looks like we’re in for a lengthy rain.”

  “It will cut short the tourist traffic to town if this wind whips all the leaves off the trees,” Jane said, frowning. “That’s not good. Things could get quiet until there’s enough snow for skiing. That will take a nasty bite out of the revenue we all count on.”

  “Well, maybe this storm will move on through in a hurry,” Ben said. “I’d better go.”

  “You and Laurel certainly picked out a nice vehicle for her,” Jane said, smiling. “You’re a good team.”

  “I’m cold,” Laurel said, then took off at a run for the house.

  “See you, Jane,” Ben said, then pressed the button to close the window on his vehicle and backed out of the driveway.

  “Those two,” Jane said, starting toward the house, “look as though they just came from the dentist instead of having a nice day in Flagstaff together. Oh, dear.” She gave Laurel’s van a friendly pat, then went on to the house.

  It was raining harder by the time Ben arrived at Grandfather’s trailer. Dove was coming down the three wooden steps leading to the front door and waved to Ben as he drove up. She ran to where he stopped and slid onto the passenger seat, pulling the door closed behind her.

  “Wet, cold and windy,” she said, shivering. “The pretty leaves don’t stand a chance, and that’s not good for the revenue of the shop owners of Willow Valley. The tourists won’t be back until it’s time to ski.”

  “Yep,” Ben said, frowning. “Grandfather still isn’t home? There’s no light on in his trailer.”

  “No, he’s not there,” Dove said. “Jane told me she’d taken him some food, but he wasn’t home. I wanted to see if he was back yet. I ran into Cadillac in town earlier and he said he saw Grandfather on the interstate in his rusty old truck and he took the south exit.”

  “South?” Ben said, looking over at Dove. “He was headed for Phoenix? That doesn’t make sense, Dove. Grandfather hates to go to Phoenix. I can’t even remember the last time he went down there.”

  “I know.” Dove shifted in her seat to face Ben. “What if he was going to see a doctor? He has not been feeling well.”

  “He goes to Doc Willie on the rare occasion that he sees a doctor at all,” Ben said. “Why would he go…unless…”

  “Unless he doesn’t want to take the chance that anyone here knows how sick he really is.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ben said, shaking his head. “There are other reasons to go to Phoenix.”

  “Name one thing Grandfather would go down there for.”

  Ben opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it closed when he realized he didn’t have an answer. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

  “What are we going to do, Ben?” Dove said.

  “There’s not a lot we can do. Grandfather won’t talk until he’s ready. We’ll stick to our plan. You, Laurel and I will keep checking in on him and compare notes.”

  “Okay,” Dove said. “But I’m just so worried about him and I feel helpless.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Jane told me that you and Laurel went to Flagstaff so Laurel could buy a vehicle. Did she get something?”

  “A Dodge minivan. The smaller one,” Ben said, shifting his gaze to the front window. “It’s red. Matches her jacket. They shined it all up for her, but now it’s getting wet.”

  “Did you two have a nice day together?” Dove said, leaning slightly toward him.

  Ben laughed, a short bark of sound that held no humor. “I wouldn’t say that. Not even close.”

  “What happened?”

  Using as few words as possible, Ben related what had come to light about Laurel’s leaving Willow Valley ten years before.

  Dove’s eyes widened. “You didn’t hear her tell you that she’d gotten the scholarship to Virginia and that was the only reason she was going so far away? You didn’t hear that?”

  “No.”

  “So you didn’t say you’d wait for her if she went to college closer to home? Oh, God, Ben, this is awful, just terrible. You two could have worked out a compromise about Laurel wanting to be a psychologist and… I can’t believe this.” She paused. “Okay, okay, I’m calming down. You both know the truth now, so you can repair the damage that was done.”

  “No, Dove. It’s too late for that. Ten years is a long time. Laurel and I are diff
erent people now, strangers. We can’t turn back the clock and pretend— I don’t want to discuss this any further. You’d better get home before the roads are thick with mud from this rain.”

  “But…”

  “Go on, Dove.”

  “Navajos are so darn stubborn,” Dove said. “When you don’t want to talk about something… I swear, you’d think you were the one who is really related to Grandfather, not me. You drive me nuts.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about you? Every time I ask you what you plan to do after Eagle graduates, you just dust me off and say you’re fine as you are.”

  “I am fine as I am.”

  “You’re a stubborn Navajo, Dove Clearwater.”

  “I’m going home,” she said, opening the door and leaving the vehicle.

  Ben watched until Dove drove away, then stared at Grandfather’s dark trailer for another long moment before heading for home, his mood as dark as the rain-laden clouds in the sky.

  “And that’s what happened,” Laurel said, absently stirring the soup in her bowl as she sat across the kitchen table from her mother.

  “It was all a misunderstanding,” Jane said incredulously. “You and Ben each came to the wrong conclusions because… Oh, Laurel, this is so…so…”

  “Sad,” Laurel said quietly.

  “Yes, honey, but now you both know the truth. No one was betrayed. Promises weren’t broken. It was a simple but heartbreaking case of lack of proper communication. You and Ben can pick up the pieces and—”

  “No,” Laurel said. “It’s too late. Ten years too late. We’re strangers now.”

  “But you’re still in love with him, Laurel.”

  “I’m in love with the Ben I knew ten years ago. I don’t even know the man he’s become. Besides, he’s not in love with me, which is a point that should not be forgotten. Could we change the subject, please? There’s nothing more to be said about this.”