A Wedding In Willow Valley

“Well, we could always go back to the house and I’ll cut your hair for you.”

“Ohhh, don’t start with me,” Laurel said with a groan. “I’m trying to forget that fiasco with Ben at the café yesterday.”

“In my opinion, not that you asked,” Dove said, “you two were long overdue to talk to each other like normal people. The stony-silence thing ever since you came back to Willow Valley was ridiculous.”

“What happened isn’t exactly what I would call a conversation,” Laurel said, frowning. “The whole town is buzzing about how Ben Skeeter told Laurel Windsong she shouldn’t cut her hair. You cut your hair a few years ago. Did Ben pitch a fit?”

“Nope,” Dove said, swinging her head a bit so her shoulder-length dark hair swirled, then settled back into place. “He said it looked very nice. But Ben isn’t in love with me.”

“He’s not in love with me, either, Dove,” Laurel said quietly. “What we had together was over years ago. What he said in the café about my hair was habit or reflex or whatever. Oh, forget it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Laurel paused. “I haven’t brought this up because I was waiting to see if you would, but you haven’t. So I’ll just jump right in. Tell me about your plans.”

Laurel looked over at her best friend, seeing a pretty Navajo woman who was about five foot four, small-boned and slender, which made her appear younger than the twenty-seven years old that she was. Her big, dark eyes were her best feature and boasted thick, long lashes.

“What plans?” Dove said, frowning in confusion. “You’re right, I haven’t mentioned having any plans since you came home.”

“Well, surely you’re thinking about the future,” Laurel said. “The twins are up and gone, and Eagle is a senior in high school. Once he graduates, it will be your turn, Dove. Everything you put on the back burner for the past ten years so you could raise those kids can be brought forward again. You were going to go to college and study journalism, remember?”

Dove shrugged. “That was then.”

“What are you saying?” Laurel said, setting her fishing pole next to her on the grass.

“Oh, I don’t know, Laurel. I’m not unhappy here on the rez, living in the house I grew up in. I write for the paper when the mood strikes and I’m making a decent living with my weaving. Why rock the boat?”

“There’s a big difference between being not unhappy and being happy,” Laurel said. “It sounds to me like you’re settling for less than what you really want because it’s easier to just stay put.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Dove said. “I had such big ideas when I was seventeen, but everything changed when my parents were killed. I raised my brother and the twins, Laurel, and feel like a mother whose last baby bird is going to leave the nest in the spring.

“Yes, it’s my turn. My turn to just live a quiet existence without so much responsibility weighing me down. I just don’t have the energy left to take on a whole new way of life and head off to college at twenty-seven. I’m doing fine right here.”

“Oh, Dove, that paints a picture in my mind of a narrow, lonely existence. You said a couple of weeks ago that you’re not even dating anyone.”

“Laurel,” Dove said, flipping her line in the water to another spot, “think about this. I date someone. I find myself in a relationship at some point and said guy asks me to marry him. We are now looking at hearth, home and babies. Children, Laurel.

“Don’t you see? I’ve raised three kids already. I’ve done the tooth-fairy bit and helping with homework and pinching pennies to feed us all and putting up with moody teenagers and I don’t want to start over with more babies. Any man I might get serious about is going to want a family. I just can’t go through all that again.”

“But…”

“No.”

“You’d feel differently if you were in love,” Laurel said.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Dove paused. “Speaking of plans, do you have any?”

Laurel shook her head. “I’m just doing one day at a time. Dove, I know I’m probably hurting your feelings by not telling you what happened in Virginia to bring me running home, but I just can’t talk about it yet.”

“I understand that part,” Dove said. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready to share. I’m just wondering if you intend to just stay on here and work at the café.”

“No, and I’ve told my mother that so she won’t be disappointed down the line when I…figure out what to do with my life.”

“There are worse things than living in Willow Valley or here on the rez,” Dove said. “It’s peaceful. Eagle is thinking of joining the Army when he graduates. I think that structured kind of existence would suit him well. He’s very restless, edgy, and he wants to leave here as soon as he can. That’s fine—for him.

“Me? I’ll be more than ready to not have to worry about unpleasant surprises produced by unpredictable teenagers. Each day will go more or less the way I decide it should.”

“Dove, that sounds like something an eighty-seven-year-old person would say, not someone who is twenty-seven.”

Dove shrugged. “I like the image of it in my mind. I’m going to have control over my own life again. Like I said…peaceful.”

“Mmm,” Laurel said, frowning.

Several minutes went by in silence, the two friends lost in their own thoughts. The forgotten fishing pole lay unattended on the grass.

“I like Marilyn Montgomery,” Laurel said finally. “I met her when I came back and felt an instant bond with her, as though I’d known her for a long time. She said she moved here five years ago, but we never connected during my brief visits from Virginia.”

“She’s very nice,” Dove said, nodding. “And she really spruced up the beauty shop when she bought it. It’s popular with locals and tourists.”

“She didn’t say why she moved to Willow Valley,” Laurel said. “And I didn’t ask. I figured if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.”

“I don’t think anyone knows where she came from or why.” Dove laughed. “Not even Cadillac. He called her ‘the mystery woman’ for a while after she arrived until he got bored with the subject and went on to something else. Anyway, Marilyn is very well liked and respected.”

“As well she should be,” Laurel said.

“I think I hear someone coming behind that rise,” Dove said. “It might be Grandfather. He very often rides his horse on Sunday and he checks to see if I’m fishing in this spot. I want you to know that I put many a Sunday-night meal on the table over the years with the fish I caught here, plus I got to spend time with Grandfather.” She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, there is definitely a horse headed our way.”

“It’s always wonderful to spend time with Grandfather,” Laurel said. “Everyone calls him that out of respect. I forget he’s really your great-grandfather. Does Eagle realize what an honor it is to be a descendant of a hero, a Navajo code-talker?”

“I don’t think Eagle is that impressed by it,” Dove said. “Maybe when he’s older he’ll appreciate what Grandfather and the others did as code-talkers during World War Two. Nothing gets Eagle excited these days except the thought of leaving here.” She turned and shaded her eyes with one hand as she looked into the distance. “Yes, that’s Thunder, Grandfather’s horse. There’s no mistaking such a huge black stallion like…but…oops.”

“Oops?” Laurel said, turning slightly to look in the same direction that Dove was. “That’s—Dove, that’s Ben riding Grandfather’s horse.” She glanced quickly to the left, then the right. “I don’t want…”

“Quit looking for a place to hide, for heaven’s sake,” Dove said with a tsk. “Surely you can greet Ben pleasantly and he’ll do the same to you. That’s called being mature adults, in case you’re wondering.”

Laurel glanced at Dove, then looked backward again, realizing that she was sitting in front of a wide tree and, due to the angle that Ben was coming from, there was no way he could see her.

She smoothed her red sweater over the waistband of her jeans, then slid her hands over her head to be certain that no wispy strands had escaped since she’d braided it. She looked over to see Dove giving her a knowing little smile and glared at her again, causing Dove to laugh.

Ben pulled the big horse to a halt about ten feet away, swung off its bare back and dropped the reins to the ground. Thunder immediately began to nibble on the grass.

“Ya at eeh,” Ben said, striding toward Dove.

“And greetings to you, too,” Dove said, smiling. “Why are you riding Grandfather’s horse?”

“I went by to visit with him,” Ben said, stopping, “and…” A flash of color caught his eye and he snapped his head around. “Oh. Hello, Laurel. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Hello, Ben,” she said, then snatched up her pole. “Just doing a little fishing.”

“You hate fishing,” he said, frowning. “You’re afraid you’ll catch one and will have to take it off the hook.”