A Wedding In Willow Valley. Joan Elliott Pickart

her I wouldn’t say a word.”

      “That’s fine. I can wait until she’s ready. There’s a sadness in her eyes, though, that breaks my heart, and I don’t believe Ben Skeeter has been truly content since Laurel left all those years ago. And Dove? Oh, bless her heart. She had such plans to go to college and study journalism and ended up staying on the rez to raise her twin sisters and her brother. Seventeen years old, she was, and put aside all her dreams to care for those youngsters after their parents were killed.”

      “Dove has done a fantastic job with her siblings,” Jane said, preparing hamburger patties. “Wren is married and has a baby. Robin is studying nursing over in Flagstaff. Eagle is a senior in high school this year. Once he graduates, it will be Dove’s turn to live her life the way she wants to. Finally.”

      “But will she?” May said, pouring corn-bread ingredients into a large bowl. “Dove is very organized and set in her ways. I suppose she had to be to take care of those kids, but I can’t help but wonder if she might just keep on as she is after Eagle graduates. You know, live on the rez in that little house where she grew up, write for the paper now and again, make her rugs and what have you to support herself. I don’t believe change will come easy to Dove now.”

      Jane shook her head. “Oh, wouldn’t that be a shame if Dove… Goodness, I don’t even want to think about that happening.”

      “I felt the same way about you after Jimmy died,” May said.

      “What?” Jane said, looking over at her dear friend.

      “I was so hoping that in time you’d marry again, have more babies. But here you are doing exactly the same as when Jimmy was standing next to you. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be lonely, Jane, you know that.”

      “I’m not lonely,” Jane said. “I’m very satisfied with my life the way it is.” She shook her head. “I just had this conversation with Laurel. What is this? Let’s-marry-off-Jane-Nelson-Windsong week?”

      May laughed. “Whatever works.”

      “Oh, hush.”

      “Just one more thing,” May said.

      “Hmm?”

      “Is Laurel going to cut her hair?”

      Late that night Laurel showered, washed the hair that was the topic of conversation then sat on her bed in her pajamas and brushed it in long, steady strokes. She drew her fingers through it as she recalled Ben’s words spoken in the café.

      Your hair is so beautiful, so silky and…I remember how it felt when I…

      She knew exactly what Ben remembered, Laurel thought. After they made love, she’d nestle close to his body and he’d sift his fingers through her hair, watching it fall free, then repeating the motion over and over, never seeming to tire of it.

      Sudden heat coursed through Laurel, then pulsed low and hot within her as vivid images of lovemaking shared with Ben taunted her. She moved off the bed and began to pace restlessly around the small room, pulling the brush roughly through her hair.

      She couldn’t stay in Willow Valley, she thought frantically. She had to leave, put distance between herself and Ben Skeeter. But after what had happened in Virginia, where could she go? What would she do with her life? She adored this pretty little town and the people in it, had always thought she’d live out her days here with Ben and their children. But…

      “Oh, God,” Laurel said, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “What am I going to do?”

      Chapter Three

      “I swear, Dove Clearwater,” Laurel said, “if I actually catch a fish on the end of this line and that slimy thing comes flying up here, I’m gone. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. I came out here to the rez to have a relaxing Sunday afternoon with you, remember?”

      “Fishing is relaxing,” Dove said. “We’re sitting on this nice grass, the water and sky are a lovely shade of blue, the leaves on the tree are gorgeous, it’s a crisp fall day. It’s your attitude that’s not with the program.”

      “You’ve got that straight,” Laurel said, laughing.

      “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