Lambert's Peace (19 page)

Will crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I asked you first.”

The collar of his leather jacket was flipped up on one side, and his bangs flopped over his forehead. Taylor thought he looked like an eighties pop star—and very handsome.

He caught her staring. She blushed and turned away. “I, um, couldn't sleep. Problem with the conversion setup kept me awake. I finally figured it out.”

Will walked over. “Funny how brilliance comes at midnight.”

She laughed. “Yes.” Their eyes met, and Taylor felt warm all the way down to her toes.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her face. She couldn't breathe for a second.

“Taylor,” he said, lightly grasping her arm and pulling her to him. He lowered his face to hers.

“Will.” She pressed her hand against his chest.

He chuckled. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I'm sorry.”

Releasing her, he backed away. “Don't be. It's my problem. But, Taylor,” he said as he walked toward the door, “when a man finds a woman who drives him crazy, he doesn't easily forget.”

Taylor bolted upright when her cell phone rang. She fumbled through her purse, squinting in the bright morning light. Sun rays streamed through the frosty windowpanes like ethereal ribbons and fell across the wide wood floor.

“Hello,” Taylor croaked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Taylor, where are you?”

“Tim? I'm at the office,” she said, her voice raspy and weak. She stood to stretch. Her back ached. “Mom called this morning.”

“What happened?”

“It's Dad. He woke up with severe abdominal pain, chills, and vomiting, so Mom took him to the hospital. She looked for you, but thought you went for a run.”

“I'm on my way.” Awake now, she grabbed her coat and purse but stopped outside her office door, suddenly overwhelmed. Her eyes burned, and she trembled all over.

“It's Thanksgiving. Oh, Father, please. Be with Dad.”

Shaking off the sense of despair, she started down the hall.

Will looked up when he heard footsteps.
Is Taylor still here
? He glanced at his watch. Seven a.m. He'd fallen asleep a few times, brewed and drank two pots of coffee, then continued working. A lot of things were going to change with the new business system and work flow, even timekeeping and payroll.

“Taylor?”

She peered around the door bleary-eyed, her hair in disarray. “Mom took Dad to the hospital.” Taylor explained his symptoms.

Will grabbed his coat. “Let's go.” He unclipped his cell phone and dialed as he led Taylor downstairs and out the door.

“Bobby, I'm on my way to the hospital with Taylor. It's Grant. Call Grandpa and let the family know. And, oh, will you go let Harry out, then take him to Grandpa's?”

He opened the passenger door and helped Taylor in. Then, getting in behind the wheel, he said, “It's going to be okay.”

She nodded, her lips pressed together, the tip of her sleek nose red.

Will scooted across the seat and cradled her in his arms. He didn't know if she would resist and pull away, but he didn't care. She was trying too hard to endure this alone.

After a few moments, he reluctantly released her and moved back to his side of the truck. “Not a great way to start Thanksgiving Day, is it?”

“No, it isn't.”

By midmorning, Dad had been admitted and several tests ordered.

Taylor paced the waiting room with Tim and Mom. Dr. Griswold promised an update within the hour. Will went to the cafeteria in search of coffee and donuts.

“I can't lose him. I'm not ready. He's only sixty-six,” Mom said, her voice weak like a lost child's.

Tim stood off on his own, his hands on his hips. “He'll be fine, Mom.”

Taylor glared at him. He sounded like a coach telling a player to get up and shake it off.

“Mom,” she said softly, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Tim's right. Dad is going to be just fine. We just have to trust in the Lord.”

Mom pressed her hand on Taylor's. “Be brave for me, okay?”

Taylor rested her cheek on her mother's head. “I'll try.”

Will returned with the coffee and donuts, followed by Bobby, Ethan, and their grandparents, Matt and Betty.

“Looks like the Lord sent in the cavalry,” Will said, motioning to his family.

“Yes, He has,” Mom said, welcoming Grandma Betty's embrace.

“Thank you,” Taylor whispered to him as he handed her a cup of coffee and a donut. “Your family is amazing.”

She didn't resist when he slipped his arm around her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

Grandma Betty took over comforting Mom, reminding Trixie Hanson that the Lord would not forsake her. Taylor loved the older woman's wise, soothing ways.

Grandpa motioned for everyone to huddle up. “Let's take this matter to the Father.”

Will took Taylor's hand when Grandpa started to pray. “Lord, Your Word says You give us peace. Not as the world does, but the kind that transcends understanding. You said we must not let our hearts be troubled or fearful. So I ask for Your peace to guard Trixie and the Hanson family. Especially Grant.”

Dr. Griswold approached as Grandpa said amen. “Well, Trixie, we know what's going on.”

She wiped her eyes with the edge of her handkerchief. “Oh?”

Taylor felt a release in her middle, as if she'd been carrying a weight around all morning. Her hand remained in Will's, but she didn't care.

“Looks like food poisoning,” the doctor said. “We're going to treat him overnight, but he's going to be fine. Do you know where he ate last night?”

“We had seafood,” Trixie said, giving Dr. Griswold the name of the restaurant.

The doctor smiled. “Well, we'll make sure he's feeling better soon, but keep those prayers coming.”

“Thank you, Doctor, we will,” Grandpa said, his arm around Trixie's shoulders. Doctor Griswold offered to take Trixie to see Grant while the rest of the Hansons figured out how to celebrate Thanksgiving.

“Dad would want us to celebrate,” Tim decided.

“We have a big spread at our house,” Grandma said. “The girls are basting the turkey as we speak.”

So it was agreed. The Hansons would join the Lamberts for a Thanksgiving feast.

Luscious smells wafted from Grandma's kitchen as Will tussled on the living room floor with Bobby's boys, Jack and Max. From Grandpa's easy chair, Will's dad, Buddy, coached the boys.

“Get your arm around Will's neck, Jack. Yeah, that's it.”

When the six-year-old almost pinned his uncle, Will raised his head and asked his dad, “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“My grandson's, of course.”

“All right, all right.” Will grabbed Jack by the ankles and dangled him upside down. “Say ‘Uncle Will's the best.'”

Jack giggled. “No.” Will shook him. “Say it?” Still giggling, Jack refused.

“Well, I have no alternative but to tickle you.” A slight move of Will's hand and Jack caved.

“Uncle Will's the best. Uncle Will's the best.”

Will lowered him to the floor. “Go bug your dad and Ethan.”

Laughing, Jack scurried off to the family room where Bobby, Ethan, and Kavan watched football.

Four-year-old Max trailed after him, calling out, “Uncle Will's the best!”

Will sat on the floor and propped himself against the sofa. “That wore me out.”

His dad chuckled. “I remember when you and Bobby used to jump on me. Two of you. Same size. Same weight.”

Will took a deep breath, grinning. “My apologies, Dad.”

Buddy shook his head. “Wouldn't trade those days for all the gold in Fort Knox.”

Grandpa peered around the corner. “Buddy, you up for carving a turkey?” Grandpa held up his carving knife.

Buddy slapped his hands on his knees. “If it gets us closer to dinner, I'm your man.”

Will waved. “Call me when it's time to eat.”

As Buddy went off with Grandpa, Claire and Taylor walked by with Jack's eight-year-old sister, Eva.

Will waved at Taylor, and she answered with a smile. Her presence messed with him. Loving her came easy, like she was a part of him. If he thought about it long enough, his desire turned into a steady ache.

But she set up invisible boundaries, and he had no choice but to respect them.

He winced every time he thought about the night she asked him to marry her. It changed their relationship forever. If he knew then what he knew now, he wondered if he would have agreed.

But he doubted it. He'd needed the years to mature and discover who he was in this life and in Christ.

He would have made a lousy husband at twenty-three. Suddenly, Taylor dropped down next to him.

“Having fun?”

“Yes, are you?” He loved the cool fragrance that surrounded her. She stared at her hands. “As long as I don't think too much about Dad.”

He reached for her hand. “Grant is going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” She looked over at him. “It's wonderful being here. So peaceful. Mom's busy in the kitchen with Grandma, your mom, Elizabeth, and Julie. Dana's playing with baby Matt—and I think trying to talk Tim into one last child.”

Will laughed. “How's he taking it?”

Taylor shook her head and made a face. “Not well. Not well at all.” She laughed.

“Taylor, I want you to know that—”

“Dinner! Let's go,” Grandpa bellowed from the hall.

Taylor drew her hand from Will's and stood. “Let's eat.”

He grabbed her and whispered, “You're determined to drive me crazy, aren't you?”

“All right, who's up for a little flag football?” Ethan pushed back his chair and surveyed the table.

Bobby's boys shouted, “Me!” and scrambled from the table.

“Easy, boys,” Elle called after them.

Taylor grinned. “They're good kids, Elle.”

She nodded. “Thank you. They're trying at times, but I can't imagine life without them.”