by Loree Lough
“ ’Course he would. And so would your mom.”
“Maybe.”
Maybe? Though Reece didn’t understand, he read a few more pages, stopping when Eli ran his fingertip across a crayon scrawl. “Taylor did that when she was a little girl. Did you know this used to be her book?”
“No, I sure didn’t.” But it made sense, given the tattered and frayed binding.
“She gave it to me when I turned four, and told me I have to take extra special very good care of it, because her dad gave it to her when she turned four.”
The image of Taylor—blonde braids bouncing as she skipped through life—flashed in his mind.
“Did you know her father died when she was little, too?”
“Yeah, I did,” he said, though he didn’t know many of the details.
“Wonder if Randy got his new leg braces today. He got too big for the old ones, you know.”
Reece nodded. As Randy’s doctor, he’d been the one to suggest a larger pair.
Eli doubled up his little fists, brought them down on the mattress. “What is that sickness he has, anyway?”
Reece closed the book and slid an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “Well, something happened to Randy’s brain, even before he was born, something that messed up his leg muscles.” He had two other patients born with Muscular Dystrophy, but unlike Randy—who could walk and talk and do most of the things his friends could do—both of them were confined to wheelchairs. It’s where Randy would end up eventually, but for now …
“Why did God do it to him? I mean, Randy’s a good kid.”
Eli fixed his gaze on Reece’s face and waited for a straight answer to what he thought was a simple question. Reece understood the boy’s doubts because just over a year ago—moments after Margo’s coffin was lowered into the ground—he’d asked a similar question himself. The preacher’s graveside mumbo-jumbo had only raised more questions. Did the preacher—did God—really expect him to hold onto faith in the face of back-to-back heartache? If a full-grown man couldn’t make sense of it, how could he explain it to this bighearted, innocent kid who’d lost both parents in the course of a year!
If You’re listening, Lord, I sure could use a little direction, here.
He pulled Eli onto his lap. “I think … I think maybe God chose Randy to teach people things.”
Eli harrumphed. “He’s four, Uncle Reece. That’s not old enough to teach anybody anything.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, kiddo.” Lifting the boy’s chin on a bent forefinger, he said, “Randy is plenty old enough to teach us things. By watching him, we learn how much we can accomplish if we work hard, if we don’t whine and complain, if we refuse to quit. Randy wears braces on his legs, but he does his best to keep up with you and the rest of the kids at school, doesn’t he?”
Eli nodded.
“And he has a hard time holding pencils and crayons, but that didn’t stop him from helping his mom fill out all those invitations to his birthday party, did it?”
“No, but… .” Frowning, Eli shook his head. “But wouldn’t it be easier for God to just put that kind of stuff into everybody’s head on the day we’re born?”
Hate to be a pest, Lord, but the kid’s got a point… . Then he spotted Eli’s high-topped sneakers on the shelf in his closet. And right beside them, the Velcro-tabbed pair he’d worn before he learned to tie his shoes. “How did you learn to tie your shoes?”
Eli shrugged. “Taylor showed me.”
“And those first couple of times, you felt like a big fumble-fingers, didn’t you?”
“I’ll say.”
“But if she came to your rescue every time you failed, do you think you would have ever learned how to do it, all by yourself?”
He tucked in one corner of his mouth. “No, I guess not.” He met Reece’s gaze to add, “But that still doesn’t make things easier for Randy.”
“No, I guess not,” he echoed, kissing the top of Eli’s head. “But that’s okay, because all Randy needs from you is to know that you’re his friend, and that you’ll help him any time he needs it.”
Eli snuggled up and closed the book. “Maybe Taylor will let me bring Alexander in my backpack next time I go to your house.” Yawning, he climbed under the covers and stretched. “And that can be one of my bedtime stories, since we didn’t finish it tonight.”
Reece put the book back on the shelf and turned out the light. And by the time he turned around, Eli was fast asleep. “I sure do love you, little buddy,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s forehead. He was halfway out the door when Eli rolled onto his side. “I love you, too, Uncle Reece.”
Reece’s shoes seemed nailed to the floor as he hung his head and prayed for the strength to fight off the tears, stinging his eyes. “Lord, make me into a better man,” he whispered, “the kind of man Eli deserves as a dad.”
9
Tootie stood frowning at Taylor’s kitchen calendar. “How can it be June already?” she asked, biting the point off a carrot.
Isaac dropped a kiss onto her cheek on his way to the sink. “Guess it’s true what they say …”
The hiss of water, spewing from the faucet to the sudsy dishwater, nearly drowned out her quiet question. “What do they say?”
“That time flies when you’re having fun.”
“Hmpf. If that’s the case, these big black letters should say January, not June.”
“Is that your way of saying your life’s no fun?”
“No.” She frowned. “Not exactly.”
“My advice to you is … try and be a little more like me; do your best to make every day fun.”
Tootie planted both fists on her hips and did her best to look annoyed. “Easy for you to say. You’re not on the receiving end of your … fun.”
His mug disappeared into the suds. “You can fool some guys some of the time,” he said as his spoon joined it, “but you can’t fool me.” Turning, he added “I remember the way you used to be … before … you know.”
“No. I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.” She crossed both arms over her chest. “Before what?”
Tootie’s eyes widened as he scooped up a palm full of bubbles. “Don’t even think about it, mister,” she said as he walked toward her, “or I’ll—”
He slid his free hand behind her waist and pulled her into a hug. “Or you’ll what?”
Taylor stifled a groan. Most days, their wordplay and tomfoolery was as much fun as a Tracy-Hepburn movie.
Today wasn’t one of those days.
The Misty Wolf had been booked to capacity every day for the past two months … a good thing, since Tootie and Isaac depended on the inn’s revenue almost as much as Taylor did. But success like that came at a price: long days, hard work, and a dizzying schedule. Taylor considered herself lucky if she clocked more than four hours’ sleep in a row.
She blamed her fast-growing list of “if onlys …”
If only she could afford to hire someone to clean the Misty Wolf.
If only she could stop worrying about the Jimmy-has-a-crush-on-you nonsense Tootie had planted in her head.
If only she’d stop wondering why Reece’s behavior toward her had gone from almost warm to nearly as standoffish as when they’d met.
If only Tootie and Isaac worked as much as they bickered.
“If you two don’t stop your squabbling, you’ll drive me crazy!”
In the silence that followed, her grandfather’s favorite quote echoed in her mind: “If,” biggest li’l word in the English language. If she’d known the little word had the power to end their back-and-forth teasing, she’d have used it long ago.
But she had no desire to hurt their feelings. “I seem to recall the two of you promising to help me come up with some ideas for Eli’s birthday party,” she said, forcing a grin.
“It’s hard to think on an empty stomach.”
Tootie gasped. “Why, Isaac Williams, it hasn’t even been an hour
since you wolfed down that bacon-and-eggs breakfast I made you. You can’t possibly be hungry already!”
“I’m like an old coal furnace,” he said, grinning and patting his flat belly. “You gotta feed this baby real good to keep it going.”
“I’m beginning to believe you really do have a hollow leg, because in all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you’re full!”
Taylor might as well have been talking to that sink full of dirty dishes for all the good her complaint had done. Could it be that she’d been such a grump lately that her flare-up only seemed out of character to her?
“I need to run a few errands,” she said, grabbing her purse from the hook behind the door. She didn’t write up the customary list of chores to keep them busy while she was gone. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell them where she was going or when she’d be home, mostly because she didn’t know if she’d head for Blacksburg or Christiansburg or across the Parrott River. The one thing Taylor knew for sure was that if she didn’t put some distance between herself and them, she’d end up apologizing for saying something mean-spirited.
The screen door hadn’t even closed yet before Tootie said, “What’s she thinking, taking off without a word? The place is full-up; what if one of the guests needs—”
“Now, now … there’s not a young’un among ’em, and they all know that they’re on their own for supper.”
“But what if they ask for a map or a restaurant recommendation or directions to—”
“We’ve both been around here long enough to answer any questions they might have.”
Taylor heard Tootie’s exasperated sigh.
“I suppose you’re right. But still, it isn’t like Taylor to just up and leave that way.”
“You said yourself, just yesterday, that she’s been acting a little hinky these past few days. Maybe a couple hours, off on her own, is just what the doctor ordered.”
“I always wondered when it would all get to be too much for her.”
Taylor could picture Tootie, aiming that maternal pointer finger at Isaac as she spoke.
“With all these guests, and the horses, and Eli… .”
“Calm down,” Isaac said. “We don’t need two hysterical females around here.”
Hysterical? Is that the way they saw her now? Taylor stopped walking so suddenly that she nearly lost her balance.
“She’ll pull herself together, just like she has every other time something freaked her out.”
She could have hugged Isaac for saying that. But … every other time? When have I ever freaked out!
“Remember when the tornadoes peeled every shingle off the barn roof? And that time that hippy rock band booked the place and tore up all the bathrooms? She held it together when Eliot died overseas, and you know as well as I do that if it hadn’t been for Taylor’s clearheadedness, Margo would have killed herself with pills long before she crashed her car into that tree. Taylor’s barely bigger than a minute, but she’s got the constitution of a bull moose.”
Taylor slumped against the railing and made a mental note to find a proper way to thank Isaac for his support.
“Don’t know about you,” he continued, “but I aim to pull a little more of the weight around here while she’s under the gun.”
“You’re right. I’ll help out more, too.” Tootie hesitated before saying “I just wish I knew what was eating at her this time.”
This time? To hear Tootie tell it, a person would think I fly off the handle on a daily basis!
“Just between you and me, I’d say her problem is heart-related.”
That inspired a chuckle from Tootie. “Heart-related!” she echoed. “What are you talking about, you silly man, you?”
“Taylor doesn’t know it yet, but she’s in love.”
Love? Me? Even if she could spare the time—and she most certainly could not—Taylor didn’t have the patience for anything so frivolous as romance. Besides, if she was in love, wouldn’t she know it as well as she knew that the Misty Wolf was her favorite place in all the world? It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from shouting, Isaac Williams, you’re out of your ever-lovin’ mind!
“I know one person who’ll be only too happy to hear that.”
Nothing could have surprised Taylor more than to hear Tootie add “Jimmy.”
Taylor stifled a gasp as Isaac said, “No, not Jimmy.”
“Surely you don’t mean that fuddy-duddy uncle of Eli’s.”
Taylor sagged to the bottom step and held her head in her hands. Had she really allowed herself to grow so weak and self-centered that a few nights without sleep could make her act like a spoiled brat? A brat who worried her friends to the point of making wild guesses to explain her horrible behavior? Because seriously … in love? With Reece Montgomery? Ridiculous!
She’d never convince them of that with words. The only way to prove that her feelings for Reece were strictly platonic was to show them.
Starting now.
The screen door squealed so loudly when she went back inside that Taylor cringed. Should’ve oiled that hinge last week when you first noticed the squeak, she thought, hanging her purse behind the door. Between Little Orphan Annie and Scarlet O’Hara, she had plenty of role models to lead her into tomorrow.
Grabbing her apron, she gave it a good flap and plastered a smile on her face. What better way to make up for her mini-tantrum than by getting an early start on their favorite meal: oven-fried chicken and all the fixins. “So listen, you guys,” she asked tying the apron behind her waist, “what do you think about combining Eli’s birthday party with our annual July 4th cookout?”
Isaac’s expression remained skeptical, but he nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Tootie stepped up beside him. “You were smart, keeping things low-key the way you did last year, when the poor little thing had only been with you a few weeks.” She shrugged. “But now? Why, he feels so much at home here that nobody would ever guess he hasn’t lived here his entire life. If that doesn’t call for a cake, fireworks, and a parade, I don’t know what does!”
She’d done her best to make him feel that everything she owned was his, too, but the real credit for his rapid adjustment went to Eli himself … and the fact that kids were far more resilient than adults. Easygoing and quick to accept the hand he’d been dealt made her all the more determined to get back to work on his quilt, before his life with Eliot and Margo faded so deep into his past that he couldn’t summon them to memory.
Taylor sprayed cooking oil into a baking pan. “We’ll decorate the whole house with streamers and banners and flags.” After tearing off a sheet of waxed paper, she laid it on the counter and covered it with saltines. “I’ll even whip up a cake that’s red, white, and blue,” she said as her rolling pin turned them into crumbs.
Standing at the calendar again, Tootie counted the weeks. “We don’t have much time to get invitations into the mail,” she said, tapping the July page.
But Isaac waved away her concerns. “Aw, quit your worrying, woman. Three weeks is plenty of time. It isn’t like we’ve got White House dignitaries and movie stars on the guest list.”
Tootie held up a forefinger, as if testing wind direction. “Speaking of stars,” she said, “what’s Jimmy doing over the 4th?”
Taylor cracked two eggs into a wide-mouthed bowl and proceeded to fork-beat them into yellow froth. “I’m not sure.” Not an outright fib, but not exactly the truth either. “I’ll get online later and check his tour schedule.”
“Why don’t you just call him instead?”
Taylor gritted her teeth.
“I’m only asking because if he isn’t on the road, you know that Eli would want him here.”
Tootie was right, of course. But admitting it would only open the door to more Jimmy’s-in-love-with-you remarks.
“He sent me his itinerary in an e-mail a couple weeks back,” Isaac said. “When I get back to my quarters, I can check … if y
ou want me to.”
“Listen to him,” Tootie said, giggling. “ ‘Back to my quarters.’ The way he says it, folks might think he lives in a fancy suite at the Waldorf!”
While they started up a whole new verbal sparring match, Taylor remembered how Isaac’s modest accommodations became his permanent home.
Within a week of inheriting Misty Acres from the grandparents who’d raised her, Taylor realized she needed help taking care of the house and surrounding acres. Her ad in the local paper brought twelve strapping men to the door, each with impressive endorsements from former employers. And then Isaac showed up in his rumpled camo shirt, faded jeans, and sporting a diamond stud in his left earlobe and a long gray ponytail. “Never worked as an overseer before,” he admitted as she read his résumé, “but I’m a quick study and I’m not afraid of hard work.” She’d hired him on the spot, and that very afternoon, they turned the solidly built two-room out-building into his living quarters.
“What’re you smiling about?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Oh, nothing. But the better question is … what’s on your mind?”
Turning toward Tootie, he pretended to hide his pointer finger behind a cupped hand. “Can’t get anything past this one,” he said in a loud whisper. And facing Taylor, he added “To answer your question, I was just wondering when you last took a good long look at Millie?”
She moved a chicken thigh from the egg mixture to the cracker crumbs, and dropped it into the baking pan. “This morning,” she said, “when I fed and watered her.” She grabbed a drumstick, and gave it the same treatment. “Why?”
“Did she seem …” He frowned. “I don’t know, a little ‘off’ to you?”
Come to think of it, the mare had been a bit lethargic lately. Until now, she’d blamed it on the unpredictable weather—hot and sunny one day, raw and rainy the next—that kept Millie in her stall instead of outside, running free in the paddock.
Isaac helped himself to a cracker. “Maybe all she needs,” he said, crunching, “is some TLC. Soon as I finish this snack, I’ll brush her ‘til her coat gleams!”