Lambert's Peace (9 page)

“She wants a career, Bob. She always has.”

“She wants you. She always has.”

Will regarded him. “Not anymore. She told me.”

“Told you what?” Bobby asked.

“That I'm married to Lambert's Furniture and she's married to
out there
.” He pointed at nothing. “Besides, she's going on a date with Jordan West.” Will shook his head. How could he even consider the notion that he might be in love with her?

Bobby nudged him. “Since when did
no
ever stop you?”

Will rubbed his forehead. “You sound like Grandpa.”

Bobby grinned. “Thanks.”

Will thought for a moment, rubbing his chin, then said, “I guess I could tell you now. After all, it's been ten years.”

“Tell me what?” Bobby waited.

“What happened after your wedding reception.”

A light rap on the door interrupted the story before it began. Ethan stuck his head inside. “Will, Martin Leslie's on the phone again. He really wants to talk to you about his last shipment.”

Will slapped his hands against his knees and stood. “I'm on my way.”

Bobby patted his shoulder as he passed. “We can talk later. See you at the grandparents' tonight?” Will paused in the doorway. “I'll be there.”

Taylor read her e-mail to Lisa Downey one last time. Short and to the point, she simply apologized for her attitude during her final days at Blankenship & Burns.

She moved the cursor to the SEND button. Praying, she hesitated a second.

She didn't expect Lisa Downey to change her mind—or respond with her own apology. Taylor merely wanted to close a door she'd left ajar.

“Lord, here goes.” She clicked SEND.

Downstairs, laughter reverberated from the family room where her parents played a board game with Tim, Dana, and the boys, Quentin and Jarred.

As Taylor came down, feeling like a weight had been lifted, she winked at Claire who was ending a conversation on her cell phone.

“What's up, Aunt Taylor?” she asked, clicking her phone shut.

Taylor smiled. “Not much.” She sat on the edge of the ottoman. “Can I ask you a question?” Claire flopped against the couch cushions.

“Sure.”

“If you cared about someone but they didn't care for you, what would you do?”

Taylor squared her shoulders, thoughtful. “Boy or girl?”

Claire hesitated. “Boy.”

“How long have you, or
someone
, cared about the guy?”

Claire pinched her lips together then muttered, “Awhile.”

“Well, the new wisdom of today is if a guy is into you, he'll let you know.”

Claire nodded. “That's true.”

“Otherwise, move on. Don't waste your time on a guy who's not treating you like you're queen of the universe. Move to New York, get a job, work yourself to death.”

Claire laughed. “Like you?”

Taylor winced. “Yes, like me.”

“Dad said Will Adams broke your heart.”

The words punched up old feelings. “Yeah, well, your dad says a lot of things.”

Claire moved to the ottoman. “What should I do?”

“Who is he?”

She shrugged. “Some guy from White Birch Community College.”

“Claire, if I were you, here's what I'd do. Go home and write down all the ways you think you should be treated. Be real and honest. Write down how the Lord would want you to be treated. Your parents. Your friends. And if the guy doesn't measure up, he's not for you.”

“His loss?” Claire asked, her voice weak and unsure.

“Yes, his loss,” Taylor repeated, strong and sure, then kissed Claire's forehead. “You're too beautiful and precious to me, your parents, Grandma, Grandpa, and especially the Lord. Don't let any guy treat you like you're not.”

From the family room, Tim called for Claire to join the game.

“In a minute, Dad,” she answered.

“Sounds like he's getting clobbered,” Taylor said, smiling. “Probably. Can I ask you something else, Aunt Taylor?”

“Shoot.”

“Why'd you quit your job? Dad said you loved it and loved life in New York.”

Taylor laughed. “See, I told you your dad says a lot of things.” Claire giggled. “He does.”

“Claire, sometimes you have to let go of one dream to realize another.”

“Claire, help,” Tim called again.

“You'd better go.” Taylor nudged her niece.

“What is your other dream?” Claire asked, standing.

Taylor regarded her. “I'll let you know when I wake up.”

Claire smiled and hurried to partner with her father, and Taylor went to the kitchen for the cordless phone. Breathing deeply, she dialed.

On the other end, the answering machine picked up.

“Will, hi, it's Taylor. I guess you're not home ‘cause I'm talking to your machine. Thank you for your job offer. I'd be honored to help Lambert's Furniture. I can start Wednesday.”

“Come on, help me.” Grandpa tapped Will on the shoulder. “Need more wood for the fire.”

Will pushed away from the dinner table. “Thanks for dinner, Grandma. It was delicious as usual.”

“Pineapple upside-down cake coming up next.”

Outside in the cold, Will helped Grandpa gather logs.

“I like the direction you're taking the business, Will.” Grandpa huffed and puffed a little as he hoisted a large log.

“Glad you approve.”

“Hiring Taylor was smart.”

“It's only an offer right now. It would be a huge blessing to have her experience and expertise on this project.”

“For more reasons than one,” Grandpa said, grinning as he dusted off his hands. “We've got enough wood. Let's go in.”

“Grandpa, that's the only reason.”

Grandpa opened the kitchen door. “If you say so.” He shook his head.

“It's not that simple.” Will dropped the wood by the fireplace, thinking how everyone oversimplified his relationship with Taylor. He tossed another large log onto the fire.

As he dusted bits of dirt and wood from his hands, Will's cousin Elizabeth approached. “Here, your arms look empty. I'm going to help Grandma.” She handed him her one-year-old son, Matthew.

Will held the squirming child in the crook of his arm. When Matthew's father, Kavan, came around the corner, he laughed.

“Whoa, Will, he's not a football.” Kavan set the boy upright.

Will grinned and glanced self-consciously around the room. “It's been a long time since I held a baby.”

Ethan and Julie flopped onto the couch with plates of cake. “Looking good, Will. Thinking about getting one of those?” Ethan asked.

“He needs a wife first,” Will's dad, Buddy, said.

Will held up his free hand. “Stop.” He tried to jiggle little Matt to prove how good he was with children, but the little boy simply cried.

Julie stood, reaching her arms out. “Hand him over.”

As more of the family gathered around the fire and talk of marriage and babies increased, Will stepped out. He needed to think.

The night was dark, but he knew his way down to the covered bridge without a light. The wind blew against his face, sharp and cold, until he reached the cover of the old bridge.

“Lord, all this pressure about Taylor …” He leaned against the weatherworn walls, hands in his pockets.

Suddenly, a small circle of light flashed across the bridge. “Grandma sent me down with this.” Bobby held up a steaming mug of coffee.

Will grinned, reaching for the large cup. “It was getting crowded in there.”

Bobby propped himself next to Will. “They just want you to be happy.”

“Who says I'm not?”

“Well, they mean married happy.”

“Naturally.”

Bobby ran the flashlight's beam along the bridge's rafters. “I carved mine and Elle's initials right over there, I think, the night we got engaged.”

Will's gaze followed the beam. “I don't think there's any room up there for more initials.”

Bobby laughed. “You get engaged, I'll find room.”

“Two miracles in one night. Don't know if the world could take it.”

“What happened the night of my wedding?” Bobby asked.

Will sipped his coffee. He'd been expecting the question. How strange to share it now after so many years.

“Taylor and I came up here to the bridge. Maybe it was the romance of the moon, maybe it was your wedding, but love was in the air. Definitely in the air.”

“I remember it was really warm that night. We had an outdoor reception and all I wanted was to leave with Elle and get into air-conditioning.” Bobby laughed. “Seems so stupid now.”

Will continued, the memory awakened. “Taylor wanted to go wading. We didn't have a flashlight. I had on my tux. She had on her bridesmaid's dress.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“We laughed so hard, I fell in. She tore the hem of her dress and stubbed her toe on a rock. When I tried to drive her home, my old orange Camaro wouldn't start, so we walked to Mom and Dad's.”

“That's five miles, Will.”

“I know. I carried her piggyback for half of it. She had on these funky shoes that were impossible to walk in.” Recalling the picture made him laugh out loud.

“So, what went wrong?”

Will picked up the story. “I knew I was in love with her. But I started grad school in the fall, and I wanted to be focused. Besides, all she ever talked about was living in Manhattan. I didn't think we were ready for the kind of love I was feeling.”

“And you told her?”

Will looked out into the darkness, the coffee mug warm in his hand. “Are you kidding? I had the safe plan: Say nothing. Of course, I kissed her, which didn't help.”

“What happened next?” Bob prodded.

“I got the keys to Dad's car and took her home. By then our feelings were so raw and out there, we didn't say anything. I've never, ever felt like that before or since. I knew I couldn't even kiss her again, ‘cause if I did …” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “When I pulled into the Hansons' drive, she leaned over, told me she loved me, and … “

Will stopped. How could such an old memory provoke such a new love?

“Hey, don't leave me hanging.”

“She asked me to marry her.” Bobby choked. “What?”

Will tossed out the last of his coffee and strolled down the length of the bridge. “She wanted to elope to New York—get married.”

“Wow, I can't imagine Taylor laying her heart on the line like that.”

Will shook his head. “I told you love was in the air.”

“I take it your response wasn't ‘Yeah, let's go!'”

Will laughed. “No. I didn't say anything for a long time. Too long. Finally, I babbled something about going to grad school. Never told her I loved her. Or that I would like to marry her someday. She jumped out of the car, ran inside, and the next day she was gone.”

Bobby stood next to him on the edge of the bridge, shining the flashlight across the barren treetops. “And you didn't go after her?”

Will mumbled, “No,” then added, “I thought I would, eventually. Eventually never came.”

“You are one lucky man.” Bobby shone the flashlight on Will's face. “Somehow, ten years later,
eventually
came to you.”

Taylor knocked on Will's office door. “Taylor Hanson reporting for work.”

Will hopped up, sloshing coffee over the rim of his cup. “Good morning. Come in.”

The heels of her designer pumps thudded against the hardwood floor.

Will regarded her for a moment. “You look nice,” he said with a low whistle. “A little overkill, but very nice.”

Taylor ran her hand down the front of her five-hundred-dollar suit. “This is a professional arrangement, is it not?”