For Love of Eli: Quilts of Love Series Read online

  Reece knew that Taylor had designed and built it because Eli had told him so—nearly every time he steered the car down the winding gravel path that ribboned from the road to the horseshoe drive at her front porch. He’d also boasted about how Taylor had let him paint the framelike border around the majestic wolf. Reece had to hand it to her because it must have taken a world of patience to guide those energetic little fingers… .

  He’d seen a few of her sketches and watercolors in the foyer and had to admit Taylor was quite the artist. And based on the soups and stews, breads and desserts she routinely packed up for him to take home, Reece had good reason to say that her talents with pencils and paintbrushes paled by comparison to her culinary skills.

  Today, unless his nose was mistaken, she’d baked chocolate chip cookies, and the aroma started his mouth watering even before he rang the bell. “Come on in,” she called. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  A flash of metal caught his eye and he slowed his steps, immediately recognizing it as the screw-mechanism of an embroidery hoop, protruding from one of the compartments of a white wicker sewing basket. In nearly every memory of his grandmother, she held a hoop much like this one as she stitched colorful birds and butterflies onto handkerchiefs, tablecloths, and pillowcases. She had a sewing basket like this one, too. If he opened the lids and drawers, would he find thread, scissors, curved needles, and other dangerous tools among the multi-colored scraps of cloth?

  Whether it belonged to one of Taylor’s guests or the innkeeper, herself, he aimed to find out what careless fool had left it out in the open, well within reach of a bright, curious child like Eli. Reece followed the thick burgundy runner, wondering how to broach the subject in a nonconfrontational way.

  “Sorry I’m early,” he said, pushing through the cafe doors. “Traffic’s not usually this light on a Friday evening.”

  After a quick glance at the schoolhouse clock above the sink, Taylor waved his apology away. “Oh, don’t give it another thought.” She went back to dropping cookie dough onto parchment-lined trays. “But your nephew and his best buddy, Randy, aren’t here, I’m afraid. Isaac invited Tootie on a picnic, and the boys sort of horned in.” She shrugged. “They were supposed to be back half an hour ago, but when that foursome gets together, they lose all track of time.” It pleased Reece to hear that Randy could still participate in normal little-boy things.

  He remembered the day, just over a year ago, when he’d taken Eli to the office to spend the day with his secretary, Maureen, and his nurse, Gina. The mother-daughter team ran the place with military efficiency and won the heart of his little nephew when he was still in diapers. That day, while they showed Eli how the baby scales worked, Reece broke the news to Randy’s recently widowed mom that test results and consults with pulmonary and orthopedic specialists had confirmed his worst suspicions: her only child had Duchenne’s Dystrophy. At three years of age, Randy had no idea what challenges lay ahead, but Mrs. Clayton understood. Eli—God love him—sensing the gravity of the situation, hopped up onto the reception counter and belted out his off-key rendition of Jesus Loves the Little Children. By the time he sang the last verse, everyone was in stitches, and the boys had been pals ever since.

  Reece hoped Randy had worn his back and leg braces. He felt like an ogre, prescribing the awful things, but like it or not, they were as important as the physical therapy and muscle relaxants he’d prescribed. Besides, if—

  “You might as well take a load off while you wait.” Taylor then pulled out the nearest of eight ladder-back chairs surrounding the big rectangular table.

  And so he sat.

  A good time to bring up the careless placement of the sewing basket?

  Why did he feel at a loss for words? Was it because before today, Taylor always had Eli ready and waiting when he arrived, eliminating the need for small talk? Or the fact that her relaxed smile told him she didn’t feel the least bit awkward?

  She put her back to him and removed two cookie sheets from the oven, and he remembered how many times Margo had said that if Taylor had been a foot taller and seventy-five pounds heavier, people might mistake her and Eliot for twins. Yeah, they both had big gray eyes and white-blond hair, but in his opinion, the similarities began and ended right there.

  On the night Margo introduced them, Taylor sandwiched his hand between hers and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally!” He’d been engaged to Dixie at the time and felt an instant stab of guilt when the genuine warmth in her eyes and the soft-spoken rhythm of her words set his pulse to racing. So he’d snapped back his hand and muttered a gruff, “Right,” and did his best to focus on her flaws: she hugged everyone; laughed at jokes that weren’t funny; disposed of other people’s empty plates and refilled cups without being asked to. When that proved pointless, he repeated the old “If someone seems too good to be true, they are” rule.

  It’s what he told himself at the wedding reception, in the waiting room on the night Eli was born, at every family gathering since … and ran headlong into the same frustrating lack of success. Now, as she puttered around her kitchen looking more appealing than she had a right to in her pink-and-white checked apron, he searched his brain for something, anything to criticize, and came up—

  “Can I pour you some iced tea while you wait?”

  Hopefully, fussing with the cookies had kept her too preoccupied to notice that he’d been gawking like a moony-eyed schoolboy.

  “Or maybe you’d rather have lemonade …”

  “Is it fresh-squeezed?” What difference does that make! he thought, groaning inwardly.

  “But, of course.”

  Reece almost chuckled at the way she said it … as if in her mind, that was the only kind. He might have pointed out that he’d learned the hard way that the powdered stuff couldn’t compare with fresh-squeezed … if she hadn’t chosen that moment to start humming a little tune while she filled a glass with ice and lemonade.

  He didn’t know what to make of the at-ease way she behaved around him, because he sure as shootin’ hadn’t done anything to earn it. Unless mind reading was another of her many talents, she couldn’t know that he’d spent this past year dumping pent-up resentments toward Eliot onto Taylor, mostly because of their spooky physical resemblance. The admission rattled him more than he cared to admit.

  “Goodness,” she said as he pulled out a chair, “is the lemonade that sour?”

  “Sour? No, it’s great. Perfect.” And to prove it, he drank every last drop, then smiled. Smiled way too big and way too long, if that puzzled look on her pretty face was any indicator. He held up the tumbler, as if offering a toast. “You’ll have to give me the recipe. So I can make it for Eli. When he’s at my place.” He smacked his lips. “Because it’s really good.”

  Taylor picked up his cue for a refill, and when she handed the glass back, their fingers touched for a nanosecond … exactly long enough to send his heart into overdrive. Better get a grip, pal… .

  “It’s pretty easy-peasy,” she said with a wink. “Four ripe lemons. Half cup of sugar. Pitcher of water. The trick is … you have to roll the lemons really well before you cut and squeeze them.”

  Reece nodded. “Aha.” If he sounded distracted, well, was it his fault she put her whole body into every word she spoke?

  And then he thought of something that would help him hold her feet to the fire. “About that sewing basket in your front hall …”

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “I’m so glad you reminded me! I had every good intention of putting it upstairs in my room, so I can start on a special project for Eli while he’s away for the weekend. He doesn’t usually get into things like that, like some kids do, but why take chances, y’know?”

  While he was thinking, Yeah, yeah, right … I know, Taylor dashed out of the room. “Be right back,” she said, “just as soon as I put it out of his reach.”

  While she was gone, he got up, sauntered over to the stove and lifted the lid of the big silvery kettle he’
d been eyeballing almost from the moment he walked into the room.

  “It’s spaghetti sauce,” she said, stepping up to the sink to wash her hands. “It’s a special request from a special guest who’s checking in tonight.”

  He replaced the pot lid, thinking, special guest—singular; just exactly how special? Not that it was any of his business. Then again, if the guest was some guy who held a special place in her heart … Eli spent most of his time in this house with Taylor. Didn’t that make it his business?

  “Eli calls it ‘Tay-getti,’ ” she said, drying her hands, “because I make the sauce from scratch.” She grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer beside the stove. After filling it with thick, rich sauce, she handed it to Reece.

  The aroma alone had the power to make a grown man swoon. “Delicious,” he admitted, wishing she’d chosen a tablespoon, instead.

  “Then I’ll pack some up for you to take home. I’m sure after dealing with sick kids all week, the last thing you feel like doing is cooking.”

  “I don’t mind cooking. In fact, I like doing things for Eli.” What was it about her that made him feel so … so defensive? Because she was just about perfect? Or because she made perfect look so easy? He bought time to mull it over by taking a gulp of the lemonade. “This really is some delicious stuff.” And then he frowned. First defensive, then effusive. He really did need to get a grip!

  Reece took another swig and tried again. “I, um, I thought maybe I’d take Eli to the diner on the way home. He loves their Mile-High Meatloaf. And afterward, we’ll catch that singing rodents movie.”

  “Rats!”

  He almost said, No, not rats. Good thing he’d kept his big mouth shut, because she followed it up with “If only I had known. I took him to see that one last Saturday.”

  A couple of Reece’s pals were every-other-weekend dads, and often complained about how tough it was, trying to top what their exes did for and with the kids. Shouldn’t their primary concern be that the kids were loved and properly cared for? The guys couldn’t buy their kids’ love, so why even try? Didn’t they realize how small-minded and petty they sounded, comparing apples to oranges that way?

  Well, he didn’t feel that way right now. Now he understood how bad it felt to be one-upped, especially when he’d put so much effort into making his weekends with Eli fun. And memorable. So that maybe, just once in a while, the kid would call his house “home.”

  Taylor chose that moment to aim a dainty finger at the ceiling, almost making him forget his indignation.

  Almost.

  “While they were running the previews, Eli got all excited about seeing that dolphin movie. Maybe you could take him to see that one instead. Have you seen the commercials?”

  “Can’t say that I have.” He could spout his I’m-a-doctor viewpoint on too much TV-watching. Maybe then she’d be on the defensive for a change.

  But Taylor was busy filling plastic containers with sauce-drenched noodles, extra sauce, and home-baked bread, chattering as she pressed their lids into place. Still chattering as she stacked them into a small Styrofoam cooler: now he’d have one less meal to prepare. Which meant he could spend more time with Eli. Just plop the stuff onto plates—because the experts said “nuked plastic” might contain carcinogens—and pop ’em into the microwave. No need to worry about returning the tubs because she had mountains of them stacked up in the pantry.

  So. It seemed Miss Perfect had thought of everything. Again. Except the possibility that he might have other plans, like making pizza for Eli on Saturday and grilling burgers on Sunday.

  She was loading a shoebox-sized tin with chocolate chip cookies when Reece wondered why he even bothered to compare himself to her. Like everything else she tackled, Taylor had turned taking care of others into an art form. No way a ham-fisted bachelor whose cooking aptitude could be described with two words—frozen and prepackaged—was supposed to compete with that.

  He glanced at his watch. If he and Eli didn’t get out of here soon, there wouldn’t be time for supper at the diner before the movie. Well, there was always tomorrow. And it wasn’t like they’d starve, thanks to all the food she’d tucked into that cooler. “So how many horses do you have?”

  “Just four. Although sometimes,” she said, laughing, “I think it’s three too many.”

  “Yeah. I imagine they’re a lot of work.”

  “Some days are easier than others, but I’ve worked out a pretty good system. As long as I stick to the schedule, things go much more smoothly.”

  Reece listened intently as she ran down the daily, weekly, and monthly chores lists. The gal had her flaws, but laziness sure wasn’t one of them.

  “But I can’t take credit for how pretty the horses look. Isaac takes care of trimming their manes and tails.”

  She put a couple of still-warm cookies onto a dessert plate, and sat it on the table near his elbow. “Funny you should mention the horses today.”

  “Oh? Why?” he said around a bite.

  Arms crossed over her ruffly apron, she said, “Because just this morning, Eli asked if he could call you, see if you wanted to get here a little early, go riding with us.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  “He tried. Said he kept getting a ‘buzzy’ signal.” She punctuated it with another giggle.

  “Bummer. I would have loved that.” He took a swig of lemonade to hide the fib. “But it was a crazy day.”

  “Patients all afternoon, huh?”

  “Yeah, ’fraid so.”

  One well-arched brow rose on her forehead, and he knew just as sure as he was sitting there that she sensed the “but” in his statement.

  She’d never struck him as the judgmental type; what could it hurt to admit the truth? “But …” Reece shrugged. “I’m afraid of horses anyway, so …”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t believe how many people are! Until they learn a few simple tricks, that is.” She tilted her head to add “If you want to learn, I’m happy to teach you.”

  He had to hand it to her. Not only had she glossed right over his flat-out admission of fear, she’d offered a no-pressure solution. “It’s something to think about, for sure.”

  “That nephew of ours loves to ride.” She went back to stacking cookies in a big plastic tub. “So if you learned, you could ride together. Any time. For as long as you please.”

  A no-pressure suggestion, followed by a no-obligation invitation. And all without the customary “If you don’t do it, you’re an ungrateful lout” guilt trip attached.

  Reece cleared his throat. “Ah, does Tootie have a cell phone?”

  She prefaced her answer with a tiny snicker, which told him she’d picked up on his “Can we change the subject, fast?” tack.

  “Oh, she’s had one for years. Trouble is, half the time, she forgets to take it with her. And the other half,” she said on a sigh, “she forgets to turn it on.” Another laugh. “And the rest of the time? She forgets to charge it!”

  He’d only met Taylor’s next-door neighbor a few times, and even then, only in passing. Frankly, Reece didn’t understand why Tootie and Taylor were so close. Except for their gender—and the connection to Taylor’s handyman—the women didn’t have a thing in common. “What about Isaac? Does he have a cell? I don’t mean to rush anybody, but I had plans to—”

  “Uncle Reece!” Eli bellowed, hurtling himself across the room and into Reece’s arms.

  Instantly, negative thoughts and dark memories of Margo and Eliot melted away. “Hey, li’l buddy, how was your picnic?”

  “Aw, man … it was great! Isaac taught me an’ Randy how to bait a fishhook. And then I caught a trout. And Randy caught a Muskie.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Only, we can’t cook ’em, though, on accounta Tootie made us throw ’em back.” He rolled his eyes, then shrugged. “But that’s okay, ’cause she taught us how to whistle real loud. Well, not us, ’cause Randy’s still workin’ on it, but I learned. Listen… .”

  The boy made an O of his thumb and f
orefinger and stuck it between his upper and lower teeth, and cut loose with an ear-piercing blast.

  Laughing, Reece winced. “Whoa, I think maybe you just broke the sound barrier!”

  “You think if I do that at an Orioles game some time, the team will look up, and maybe throw me a foul ball?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Reece hadn’t told Eli yet about his main birthday present: tickets to every one of the Birds’ home games. He’d already reserved a suite at the Sheraton, a short walk from Camden Yards, and called in a favor or two that would put them in the locker room a time or two. He felt fairly certain that Taylor would swap weekends, as she’d been more than accommodating when patient emergencies forced him to reschedule; the least he could do was run it by her before getting Eli all ramped up about things.

  He’d do it now … if she and Tootie didn’t have their heads together, whispering and snickering. He heard “Isaac” and “date,” something about wildflowers and sneezing, and stifled an amused groan. “Ready to hit the road, kiddo?”

  Eli looked at Taylor. “Am I ready to hit the road?”

  “Your bag is in the front hall, right next to the door, same as always.”

  Grinning, he pointed at the white Styrofoam cooler on the floor near the restaurant-size fridge. “Is that for me and Uncle Reece, too?”

  Arms folded across her chest, she grinned. “Sure is.”

  “I hope there’s Tay-getti in it.”

  She winked. “And meatballs, too.”

  He rubbed his palms together. “Just wait ’til you taste ’em, Uncle Reece. You’ll think you’re in heaven!”

  Reece remembered the sauce taste-test and unconsciously licked his lips. “I believe you,” he said, even though it had been a long, long time since he’d believed in heaven. Too many of his contemporaries felt that allowing children to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy was unhealthy, but Reece didn’t agree. He’d only been slightly older than Eli when a fifth grader on the school bus decided—a week before Christmas—to make sure the younger passengers got an earful of The Truth According to Mike Baggett. In a few months, Reece would turn 37, yet memory of that day still had the power to make him frown. If Eli—who, at four, had already faced more of life’s harsh realities than most adults—drew some comfort from believing there’s a loving God up in heaven, no way would Reece take it away from him.