My Heart Belongs in the Blue Ridge: Laurel's Dream

She’d helped him pack his bag, a quiet assistant, moving here and there to gather items he requested or she thought he’d need. Jonathan hated the distance the telegram created between them, the uncertainty. Only an hour before, they’d not only accepted their married circumstances but embraced them. Quite literally. In fact, he’d embraced his circumstances with such gusto, the last thing he wanted to do was travel away from them…from her. He closed the bag and took her hand, drawing her down on the bed beside him.

She kept her focus on his chin. “You ought to try and get some sleep before you travel.” Her voice sounded small, too weak. “I’ll sleep on the couch bed so you can get some proper rest.”

She unwound her hand from his and made to stand, but he caught her fingers again. “I’d rather you stay here with me in my arms before I go, whether we sleep or talk. An ocean will be between us soon enough. And…I’d like you to do me a favor while I’m gone.”

Her face lifted, golden hair spilling over her shoulders. He smiled. She was beautiful.

“I have the lessons for the last two weeks of school charted out. They’re on my desk here at the house. Would you be willing to finish out this session for me while I’m gone?”

He nodded, his smile growing. “I can think of no one else as ready for this opportunity as you.”

A flicker of a smile softened the sadness in her expression. Ah, yes, at least he could offer her something. “I will try my very best.”

“I’ve been studying on something about this trip for you…and your future.” She hesitated, refusing to sit. “London’s a long ways off,” she continued. “They won’t know what happened here, us being married, and…they don’t ever need to know.”

His fingers tightened on hers, and he tugged her down beside him. “What do you mean? You can’t—”

“You can be free, don’t you see?” She raised her face to him, eyes watery and bright. “You don’t have to be ashamed when you visit your family. You made a difference here, just like you wanted, and you can hold your head high without any strings fastening you to Maple Springs. This marriage.” Her breath shivered out. “It…it doesn’t have to follow you.”

“Is that what you want? To be free of this marriage?” He searched those eyes that had become the best thing he saw every morning. Was she taking the entire responsibility of her father’s drunken choice on herself? Or worse, did she regret their relationship?

“You were forced into something you didn’t plan.” She cleared the emotions rasping her words. “We both were, but it’s my daddy that held you to it.” She tried to stand again, but he only tightened his grip, willing her to confirm her feelings. “I don’t ever want you to regret being with me. Ever.”

She drew in a deep breath, succeeding in freeing her hold from his. “You have doctorin’ gifts. God’s given them to you to save people’s lives. You love it.” Her smile grew sad. “It shows in every action you make. Beautiful and perfect and good.” She wiped a finger over her eyes and shook her head. “I won’t be the one that holds you back from that dream. I need you to have an untied heart so”—her gaze lifted to his, intense, certain—“if you choose to come back, it’s all of you. No regrets.” She paused. “And if you choose to stay away, then that’s all of you too. Life’s too hard for a split-up heart.”

“Laurel,” he breathed her name, weakening her at the knees, but she shook away the temptation to withdraw her words.

“You get some sleep.” She stepped away. “But know this, Jonathan Taylor. You don’t have to do nothing else to make your daddy proud. Your Father in heaven looks down on you, smilin’. He’s already proud because you love Him, and you are walking in the calling He’s put on your life. Whether doctorin’ or teaching. And He’s so happy with what you’ve done to show love to my people.”

She hesitated, as if she might take his outstretched hand, but then she shook her head, body stiffening back another step. “I won’t hold you back. You have to be free.”

She left the room without looking back, and he placed his head in his hands, praying God kept her heart strong, hopeful, until his return. Because he would return.

He heard the clock on the fireplace mantel strike every hour. Was Laurel asleep, or did she stare at the ceiling, counting the minutes, as he did? The shuffle of boots on the porch alerted him to his uncle’s arrival, but Jonathan had already gotten dressed, ready for him.

Laurel opened the door for his uncle, her robe pulled around her, her hair long and loose down her back. Uncle Edward didn’t enter but tipped his hat to her. “I’ve corralled Gideon in your fence in the back, Laurel, if that’s fine.”

She nodded, pinching the front of her robe together from the night’s chill. “I’ll get Mr. Morgan to halve one of the extra barrels at the store to make a waterin’ can for him, and the wood shed’s small but can provide shelter, if he needs it.”

Jonathan hadn’t packed much. He didn’t have to. He had a room in London filled with clothes and necessaries.

“I’m glad you packed light, son. It’s a long walk to the station, especially this early in the morning.” Uncle looked between the two of them. “I’ll wait on the porch so you can say your goodbyes.”

Jonathan closed the door. Laurel stood beside him, fidgeting with the hold on her robe.

“Safe travels, Jonathan,” she whispered, her eyes down. “I packed you some side meat and a biscuit in your satchel if you get hungry.”

He didn’t respond, only looked at her mussed hair, all golden in the lantern light. An ache squeezed his chest, words evading him. His silence must have piqued her interest, because she looked. That was all it took. He captured her cheeks with his palms and drew her into a kiss, stamping her with the promise of his return. She thawed into him, gripping the front of his coat. Salt mingled with the taste of her lips. Her tears.

He pressed into her, refusing to break the connection but knowing he had to. With a last lingering touch, he drew back, lowering his forehead to hers. “You will never be a regret.”

Her gaze found his, and with a timid motion, she touched her fingers to his lips, almost as if memorizing them by contact. Her palm dropped to his chest. “Don’t forget who you are, here. Strong.”

He gathered her fingers into his hand and kissed them, then with one last look at her framed in the doorway, he walked away.

Teaching school provided welcome distraction from the sudden emptiness in Laurel’s life. How could Jonathan have already taken up so much room in her life in every place? The children challenged her, but having a solid thumb on their ways as well as their family dynamics, she knew how to take control.

And the studies? The teaching? Each subject energized her. She knew much of the information in the texts, but teaching it, and then drawing from the culture to use examples, created a myriad of opportunities for discussions.

Growing up in a family of eleven, she’d never been alone—and now, every night, after helping Mrs. Cappy close up her store, she’d locked the door to a cabin filled with quiet and the scent of oakmoss and leather.

She used the time—working on school lessons and writing more stories—but when she finally settled down to sleep, her mind wandered to England. Jonathan had told her it would take a full week to travel, first by train and then by ship to London.

With a deep breath, she drew back the curtains of the bedroom and glanced out over the only sea she’d ever known—a sea of mountains.

She replayed their last day together over and over in her mind. He’d kissed her like he wanted to stay. Like he wanted her.

Her eyes stung. Oh, how she longed for him. A man couldn’t kiss…She closed her eyes, remembering his caress, his teasing, his friendship…No, a man couldn’t love a woman like that without leaving a mark on her heart. Would he come back to her, or would his dreams, his father, pull him away and end up leaving a place inside her heart that no amount of time or teaching could fill?

The evening shadows fell across the valley below, and a melody filtered through her thoughts.

The heart is strong at rememberin’

The heart holds fast to what’s true

And days may pass and miles grow long

But nothin’ can keep my love from you.

No, nothin’ can keep my love from you.

In the quiet of the house, all alone, she prayed for Jonathan, for his family, for their grief, for Preacher and the people stricken by the Spanish flu, for her mama, daddy, and siblings, and for Kizzie, wherever she was.

And she asked God to bring Jonathan home. She drew in a quivering breath. Wherever “home” might be.

London’s streets seemed more crowded than when he’d left, noisier, and the air cloaked with gritty smog. But some things didn’t change. Before Masters, the butler, could even announce Jonathan’s arrival, rushed footsteps hurried from the other room and Cora came into view, wreathed in smiles, making her mourning black look fashionable.

“You’re here?” Cora covered her mouth with her hands, her bright umber eyes flashing wide. With a squeal, she ran forward into his waiting arms, burying deep as she’d always done. “I didn’t know if you’d come. When you didn’t arrive for the funeral, I thought you might have chosen to stay in America.”

“I missed the funeral?” Jonathan tipped back to see her face. “I came as soon as I received Father’s telegram.”

Cora’s expression tightened. “Father pushed to have Charles’s funeral as soon as possible. He’s not talked about it, but I can tell he’s sad, especially because it was Charles.”

The melancholy in her confession resurrected the general air of their home. Everything good, every future dream, hung on the eldest Taylor son. His father’s dreams. Richard, second. At least his father still had Richard.

Jonathan hesitated, and Cora’s smile softened. “I didn’t think so. Every line of your letters glowed with your admiration for your work and the people there, and, if I’m right”—her grin peaked with mischief—“you’re particularly fond of a certain mountain girl who has an infectious smile and intelligent sparkle in her eyes.”

“I can show you the exact letter, if you doubt me. It’s a particular favorite of mine.” She slid her arm through his and guided him through the house, the familiar scents and sights calling to his past. Electric lights. Indoor plumbing. Servants. All so different from where he’d lived the past three months.

She laughed. “I love surprises, and I have a few things to share with you too, besides the additional list of brides Father has for your choosing.” She grimaced, crinkling her perfectly tipped nose. “He’s become much more adamant about your future since Charles’s death, almost desperate. There’s been increased talk about his failing business. He even sacked Edith and Ross.”

Jonathan stopped, a sudden dread whooshing through him. His father hadn’t called him home to mourn Charles; he needed a scapegoat. “They’ve been with this household for a decade at least.”

“I know.” Cora shook her head. “He’s tightened the purse straps on me too, though I thought at first it was due to the fact he despised my work at the hospital, but now I don’t think so.”

“No, he’s away on business until Friday, but I know he’ll be relieved to see you, especially with Richard still at the front.” Cora squeezed his arm. “Mother and I shall have you all to ourselves for three days before Father brings his dreariness into the house. Oh what fun we’ll have! And we’ll have to tell Cousin Colin of your arrival. He’s needed some cheering up after returning from the front with the loss of his right hand.”

Jonathan turned to his sister. “What? But…but his work?” Colin’s odd degree in botany required an artist’s hand to sketch the wildlife he so passionately studied.

His cousin had always been a singular person, focused and driven by a long list of unusual interests, but his gentle nature fit with Jonathan’s well and they’d become friends throughout the years. Yes, he’d definitely wish to see his cousin, but more than anyone, he wanted to see his mother…and, at some point, tell her about his bride.

The days with his mother and sister proved restful and sweet. He regaled them with stories from Appalachia, Cora shared tales from her work at the hospital and then laughed about the parade of unfit suitors Father kept introducing to her, and Mother, with her usual gentleness, glowed as a woman content with the sight of her child.

He’d missed them. He’d always been able to speak with his mother and sister honestly, express his dreams without fear of ridicule. He shared his heart about his care for the mountain people, their need for a doctor and simple basics, and, particularly, his love for Laurel, though something kept him from revealing the forced marriage details.

Colin visited a few times, but his ready smile rarely reached his eyes. War had impacted him to the heart, a similar tale for so many soldiers. The Blue Ridge Mountains might do Colin some good too, once he’d healed more from his time at the front.

A few overheard conversations among old acquaintances, along with information shared by Cora and Mother, filled Jonathan in on the declining success of his father’s investments, partially due to the war and partially to his father’s mismanagement. His mother shared the news with relative contentment, simply saying, “Do not worry. We are taken care of.”

With her usual passion and spontaneity, Cora took him on a shopping spree for items for his cabin—rugs, curtains, cooking utensils…laughing as she spoke of imagining him attempting to cook—and in a quiet instant with her, he revealed the truth about his marriage to Laurel. After a moment’s shock, his sister fell into laughter, and then she pulled him into a few women’s shops to purchase special gifts to take back to Laurel.