Lambert's Peace (6 page)

“Remember that health food kick he went on about twenty-five, thirty years ago?” Tim laughed, biting into his sandwich. A string of melted cheese stuck to his chin.

Taylor passed him a napkin, grinning. “Barely. I was what, six? You were sixteen?”

Trixie smiled. “He was so determined to get this family healthy.”

“Were we sick?” Taylor asked.

“Oh, no, but your dad wanted to ensure long, happy lives for all of us.”

Still laughing, Tim reminisced, pointing at Taylor. “Remember when old Smokey dug up the bread you buried in the backyard?”

She pounded the table. “Dad was so mad. But I thought the bread was made of twigs or something.” She made a face, remembering.

“Oh, it was horrible bread,” Trixie said, spooning a bite of soup.

“It made the worst peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Taylor added.

“And that was the only thing you would eat that year,” Tim reminded her.

“I remember.”

“Speaking of eating.” Tim popped open a bag of baked chips. “That was a cozy scene I walked into the other night with you and Will in the hospital cafeteria.”

Taylor choked. “Cozy? A burger in the hospital cafeteria?”

“Maybe your old crush isn't so old.”

“Have you gone crazy?”

“Taylor, lower your voice. Ladies don't shout.”

She gaped at her mom. “And gentlemen don't make assumptions.” She whispered toward Tim. “Have you gone crazy?”

Laughing, Tim scooted away from the table for more soup. “He's a great catch, Tay.”

He didn't have to remind her. “I'm not looking for a man; I'm looking for a job, Tim.”

“You could stay in White Birch and work for me. Dana's busy hauling Jarred and Quentin all over town. Claire's eighteen and doesn't want to admit she knows us.”

“You actually want me to come down there and work in your office? You're an architect, Tim. I know nothing about building buildings.”

“You don't fool me, Taylor. I could teach you CAD in a week.”

She shook her head. “I'm a CPA, Tim, not a CAD operator.”

“Well, I offered.”

After Tim left for home and Mom readied for bed, Taylor decided to check her phone and e-mail for any messages. There were two job postings, but they were just above entry level and she wasn't sure she wanted to drop that far down the ladder. So far, Tim's offer was the best thing going.

Taylor shoved her laptop aside and dropped her head on her desk. She hated feeling anxious, but there it was, gripping her middle—gripping her heart and mind.

“Lord, I can't continue like this. I need Your peace. It's been so long.”

Almost instantly, she thought of Will. It was his peaceful aura that attracted her to him as much as his blue eyes and broad, white smile.

Will waited for Taylor in the back of Giuseppe's. The smell of garlic and baking dough stirred his appetite. He rapped his knuckles against the table in a steady beat, eager to see her. When she walked through the door, he smiled and stood to greet her.
Give her a hug
, he thought. But she stuck out her hand before he got close.

“Hi,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

“Hi, back,” he said, liking the feel of her palm against his. They slipped into the booth, sitting across from each other.

“Welcome to Giuseppe's.” The proprietor's big voice bellowed toward them, all the consonants accented and rolling. “Will, who is this-a pretty lady?”

Will grinned. “You know Taylor Hanson, Giuseppe.”

The big man's hands shot to his face and covered his jiggling cheeks. “Taylor, what is wrong? So thin. So thin.”

She pinched her lips together, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I lost a few pounds. Five years ago.”

Giuseppe stuck his finger in the air. “I get extra garlic rolls with extra butter.” He hurried away.

Taylor laughed, wrinkling her nose at Will. “Extra butter? That means an
extra
mile for me tomorrow.” She unzipped her jacket.

“I love that about Giuseppe. In his eyes, no one can be too … endowed.” Will reached for her coat and folded it on top of his.

Their waiter, Brandon, stopped by for their drink order, and Will asked Taylor, “Large pizza? The three cheese is excellent.”

Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. Didn't they? Or was he just imagining?

“Sounds good. I'm starved,” she said.

Giuseppe swooped in with a large basket of bread and instructed Brandon to “keep it full.”

“You're much-a too skinny, Taylor. Much-a.”

“I'll work on it,” Taylor promised with a wink.

When Giuseppe was gone, Will prayed over the food and the evening. After he said amen, he handed Taylor a plate with two garlic rolls. “You're not, you know.”

She reached for her napkin. “Not what?”

Brandon set their drinks on the table. “Your pizza will be right up.”

Will nodded to Brandon then answered Taylor. “Too skinny.”

“Are you suggesting I'm overweight?”

Will laughed heartily. “I guess I'm treading on dangerous ground, aren't I?” She grinned and nodded as he sipped his soda and decided to change the subject. “How's your dad?”

“The angioplasty went very well. He looks a hundred percent better already. He's probably coming home tomorrow.”

Will nodded. “We prayed for him this morning in our staff meeting.”

Taylor tore a bite off her garlic roll. “You guys pray every morning?”

“Yes.”

“I could've used prayer at the firm in New York,” Taylor said in a soft, thoughtful tone.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

He reached for another roll. “Okay.”

“I'd had enough,” she said without preamble. “I had an egotistical boss—one of the partners—who drove me crazy. I worked seventy, eighty hours a week, and finally, I'd had enough.”

“Good for you.”

Taylor slapped her hands against the table. “Good for me? I'm unemployed. I own a brand-new imported car, my furniture is in storage, and a marvelous job opportunity in North Carolina passed me by.”

“So what? You have a mountain of experience, and you're excellent at what you do, whiz kid. The Lord has something for you.” Will suddenly had an idea. He'd have to run it by Bobby for a sanity check, but it just might be brilliant.

Taylor lowered her gaze, her slender hands around the small white plate holding her uneaten roll. “You make it sound so easy, so not-a-big-deal.”

“I know it is a big deal, but, Taylor, you're so much more than your career. You know, when I want to carve something special, I hunt for the right piece of wood. At first, it's just a block with nice grain and maybe a fragrance like cedar. Then I start cutting, shaping, sanding … The wood becomes something beautiful. That's you in God's hands.”

She regarded him. “What an amazing image. Thank you.” With that, she sat back, dropping her arms to her sides, and stared out the window. “I just am so mad at myself for quitting. There had to be a better solution.”

“Sometimes
resigning
is the solution. To act when you know it's time to move on.”

“Pizza.” Brandon cleared room for a large, round tray with a hot, thin-crust pizza oozing with cheese.

“I wish I had your confidence … and peace.”

“Well,” Will said, shoveling a cheesy slice onto Taylor's plate, “hang around me for a while, and I might let you have some for free.”

On a crisp, cold Sunday afternoon, Taylor donned her sweats and jogged to Milo Park.

Dad was home now, and Mom flitted around the house like a hen with coop full of chicks. Taylor grinned, pressing her hand to her stomach as she remembered the four-course lunch Mom served after church.

As for Taylor, she spent an hour surfing for job openings, submitting her résumé online, and trying to get her foot in the door, any door. Last week it seemed every contact she called was either out of the office or “no longer with us.”

When Will had called an hour earlier with a flag football invitation, she had jumped at the chance to move her cramped muscles.

As she ran toward the field, she could see a dozen or so guys gathering.

Five minutes later, the blue flag and white flag teams were chosen, then Will reviewed the rules. Last, he said, “Taylor, as our only woman player, is wearing orange flags. She's a wide receiver. Anyone grab anything but a flag, you're out of the game.” Will jerked his thumb over his shoulder and shot each guy an intense glance. When his gaze fell on Taylor, she nodded her thanks.

“Since there's only eleven of us, we'll play half field. Huddle up.”

Jordan West, the star quarterback at White Birch High when Will played running back, led the white flag team. Will quarterbacked the blue flag team.

“Hi, Taylor,” Jordan said, tapping her on the arm. “I didn't know you were in town.”

She smiled. “Yes, briefly.” Jordan looked so much the same. Broad-shouldered and slender … Sparkling brown eyes … His blond hair was thinner than she remembered, though.

“I heard about your dad. I hope he's doing well.”

“He's doing very well, thank you. He's home, and Mom is in her element taking care of him.”

“Hanson, let's go,” Will bellowed, motioning for her to join the huddle.

“Better go,” she said to Jordan, moving backward.

“Talk to you later. After the game maybe.”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“What was that all about?” Will whispered when she joined the huddle.

“Nunya,” she said with a smirk.

“Nunya?” He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Nunya business.” She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “None of your business.”

“Har, har,” he said. In the huddle, Will instructed his team. “They have one more player than we do, but we have Speedy Gonzales here.” He pointed to Taylor. “On two, Cimowsky, you sweep around behind me. I'll fake a handoff.” Will pointed to Taylor. “Run up the middle ten yards, turn, and I'll pass it to you.”

“Do you want me to count one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—”

Will bumped her with his hip. “No. I want you to run ten yards, turn, and catch.” She snickered. “Testy.”

Will ignored her. “Everyone else, block. On three.”

“Break!” The team of five moved to the line of scrimmage.

Taylor lined up on the right, her adrenaline pumping.
This is going to be a blast
. She could already feel the week's subtle frustrations burning away.

Will walked behind her and touched her back. “Go for the touchdown,” he said in a low voice.

She nodded. She knew what to do. Jordan lined up across from her. He smiled. She smiled. Will shouted “Two!” and Taylor went into motion.

As Taylor cut up the middle, Jordan backpedaled, calling to his scattered team, “He's passing to Taylor!” Ten
yards, turn, and look at Will
. Her gaze connected with his as he released the ball. It spiraled through the air and into her arms.

She ran for the goal, marked by two red cones, the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
Touchdown. Make the touchdown
.

Taylor hurdled over a defender who lunged for the flag flying from her waist and sailed past the cones.

“Touchdown!”

Her teammates raced to meet her, congratulating her with high fives.

Will busted through the group with a “Whoo hoo!” picked her up, and swung her around. “Taylor's
my
lady.” He motioned to the rest of the guys. “My lady. Making touchdowns. Blowing past Jordan West.”

Jordan protested with a deep huff, trying to catch his breath. “Taylor, next time, you play for me.”

“Finders, keepers.” Will wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

Taylor stepped away from him. “Hello, I'm not a kept woman.”