and put an arm around her shoulder, continuing their meandering pace toward the little house.
“I don’t understand her at all.”
“What does your father say?”
She snorted. “He’s blind to it — like he can’t bear to think about her having any problems. But this isolating herself . . . The more I think about it, the more I realize it can’t be right. Some days she doesn’t even leave her bed. She just sits there with the shades drawn all day. It can’t be good for the boys to see her like that, or for Spring.”
“Who takes care of them? You?”
“I do as much as I can. Daddy does sometimes, and Ginny. When she’s home, she helps a little, but she’s hardly ever home these days. They help me do what Mama can’t — or won’t. There are days when I get so angry at her. I wish she’d just snap out of it and get back to being the mom I remember.”
He squeezed her shoulders in a comforting embrace, unsure how to console her. They ascended the steps and walked across the porch to the front door, hanging loose on its hinges.
“Daddy’s started working on this place a little bit.” Laurel turned the glass doorknob and pushed the front door open. “He’s checked the wiring, the foundation, things like that. Ginny and I talked about staying here when we’re home from college. My parents’ place is kind of crowded for seven of us now that we’re older.” She led him by the hand through the house to the back porch. It had been built in as a sitting room, and a line of windows framed a view of the foothills behind. Over to the right, the plateau dropped off, revealing a glimpse of the lake in the distance.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she breathed. “I would love to have a studio here. It would be an incredible place to paint and sculpt, and . . . well, anything.”
Her enthusiasm was catching. “I could help you too,” he ventured. “We could come out and paint and fix it up on our days off.”
“You would do that?”
“In order to spend more time with you? Yeah, I’d do that.”
She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as he clasped her to him. “I think that sounds like a great idea!”
They stood there for a long moment with their arms around each other, and she leaned back to look at him. “Come on! Let’s go ask Dad what needs to be done next.”
“Now?”
“Yes, we’re both off day after tomorrow. We can get started on something if we know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, then sobered. “It’s after six; your dad won’t be at the marina now. I think Phil’s covering the evening shift.”
“I know. He’ll be at home though.”
“I don’t want to barge in on your mom at dinnertime.” He hesitated.
Laurel pursed her lips and huffed. “I don’t care what she thinks. I’m tired of pussyfooting around her silly moods. You’re my guest, and it’s my home too. If she acts ugly, we’ll just leave.”
James was skeptical. “Okay, if you say so.”
She stopped and searched his expression. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, James. If you don’t want to go . . . ”
“No, it’s fine. I’d love to go.”
“I know she can be difficult, but you’re important to me.”
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her mouth. He knew the inner sanctum of the Elliot house was a place few dared to tread. She wouldn’t have invited just anyone. It was a sign of her willingness to trust him that she had offered. How could he refuse her?
“Let’s go then.”
* * *
The drive from the old house to the Elliot’s log cabin took about ten minutes, during which James fiddled with the radio, complaining about the lack of radio stations and, after giving up on that, started to tell Laurel all about Dayton and Cincinnati.
“There’s so much to do. You’d love it — museums and bands and concerts and Reds baseball. You’ll have to come up some weekend this fall, and I’ll show you around. Maybe Labor
“I don’t understand her at all.”
“What does your father say?”
She snorted. “He’s blind to it — like he can’t bear to think about her having any problems. But this isolating herself . . . The more I think about it, the more I realize it can’t be right. Some days she doesn’t even leave her bed. She just sits there with the shades drawn all day. It can’t be good for the boys to see her like that, or for Spring.”
“Who takes care of them? You?”
“I do as much as I can. Daddy does sometimes, and Ginny. When she’s home, she helps a little, but she’s hardly ever home these days. They help me do what Mama can’t — or won’t. There are days when I get so angry at her. I wish she’d just snap out of it and get back to being the mom I remember.”
He squeezed her shoulders in a comforting embrace, unsure how to console her. They ascended the steps and walked across the porch to the front door, hanging loose on its hinges.
“Daddy’s started working on this place a little bit.” Laurel turned the glass doorknob and pushed the front door open. “He’s checked the wiring, the foundation, things like that. Ginny and I talked about staying here when we’re home from college. My parents’ place is kind of crowded for seven of us now that we’re older.” She led him by the hand through the house to the back porch. It had been built in as a sitting room, and a line of windows framed a view of the foothills behind. Over to the right, the plateau dropped off, revealing a glimpse of the lake in the distance.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she breathed. “I would love to have a studio here. It would be an incredible place to paint and sculpt, and . . . well, anything.”
Her enthusiasm was catching. “I could help you too,” he ventured. “We could come out and paint and fix it up on our days off.”
“You would do that?”
“In order to spend more time with you? Yeah, I’d do that.”
She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as he clasped her to him. “I think that sounds like a great idea!”
They stood there for a long moment with their arms around each other, and she leaned back to look at him. “Come on! Let’s go ask Dad what needs to be done next.”
“Now?”
“Yes, we’re both off day after tomorrow. We can get started on something if we know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, then sobered. “It’s after six; your dad won’t be at the marina now. I think Phil’s covering the evening shift.”
“I know. He’ll be at home though.”
“I don’t want to barge in on your mom at dinnertime.” He hesitated.
Laurel pursed her lips and huffed. “I don’t care what she thinks. I’m tired of pussyfooting around her silly moods. You’re my guest, and it’s my home too. If she acts ugly, we’ll just leave.”
James was skeptical. “Okay, if you say so.”
She stopped and searched his expression. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, James. If you don’t want to go . . . ”
“No, it’s fine. I’d love to go.”
“I know she can be difficult, but you’re important to me.”
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her mouth. He knew the inner sanctum of the Elliot house was a place few dared to tread. She wouldn’t have invited just anyone. It was a sign of her willingness to trust him that she had offered. How could he refuse her?
“Let’s go then.”
* * *
The drive from the old house to the Elliot’s log cabin took about ten minutes, during which James fiddled with the radio, complaining about the lack of radio stations and, after giving up on that, started to tell Laurel all about Dayton and Cincinnati.
“There’s so much to do. You’d love it — museums and bands and concerts and Reds baseball. You’ll have to come up some weekend this fall, and I’ll show you around. Maybe Labor
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