For Love of Eli: Quilts of Love Series

by Loree Lough

  “Matter of fact, I’m starving.” He rubbed his palms together. “Know what I’ve been thinking about for the past couple hundred miles?”

  Taylor opened the fridge. “Let me guess,” she said, grabbing the egg carton, “two over easy with a side order of scrapple—good ’n’ crisp—and wheat toast slathered with apple butter.”

  She was cutting into the scrapple package when he said, “Guess you’re wondering about the real reason I got here so early.”

  “Actually,” she said, slicing it into ten tidy servings, “the better question is how you got in here.”

  Jimmy laughed. “You gave me a key years ago. Remember, when …”

  Taylor didn’t need to ask why he’d stopped talking so abruptly, because yes, she remembered: that sticky summer the night before Mark died, he’d asked her to call Jimmy, who canceled his concert and rushed from Atlanta to Blacksburg. And because it had been so last-minute, he’d been forced to bring his dog, so she’d given him the key so that he could leave Rufus at the Misty Wolf.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said, turning up the fire under the frying pan. “I get a little fuzzy-brained when I pull all-nighters.”

  “I hope you didn’t do that on my account. Because I haven’t always had live-in help. I remember how to make up a bed, you know.”

  His quiet comment reminded her of the way Jimmy held her hand as she finalized the funeral arrangements, then insisted that she try to catch a short nap. She never expected to sleep, but those grueling hours surrounding Mark’s death must have taken more out of her than she’d realized. When she woke up four hours later, Isaac and Tootie told her how he’d fed the last of her guests, gathered up all the towels and bed linens and readied every room for the next guests before scribbling a note that instructed her to call him any time she needed to talk. The few times she’d been tempted to pick up the phone, she’d immersed herself in work, instead, the way she always had when facing heartache or difficulty or—

  Jimmy put two slices of bread into the toaster. “I hope you’re not gonna make me eat alone.”

  She shrugged off the memories and concentrated on the fact that the meal wasn’t just Jimmy’s favorite, it was hers, too. Besides, she hadn’t had a bite since lunch, yesterday. “You know, I am hungry.”

  He added two more slices, then went to the fridge. “So what’s on your schedule this morning?” he asked, taking the apple butter from a shelf in the door.

  “I need to go into town for a few things.”

  “Mind if I saddle up ol’ Millie and take a ride while you’re gone?”

  “She’d love that. Isaac got everything ready for you yesterday.”

  He opened and closed a few cabinet doors. “Ah, there they are,” he said, sliding two plates from the top of the stack. “Maybe Isaac will want to ride along.”

  Not likely, Taylor thought; the man rarely went anywhere that put a mile or an hour between himself and Tootie. “Can’t hurt to ask,” Taylor said, pouring a mound of flour onto the cutting board.

  Now he opened and closed drawers, and finding the one with the silverware in it, said, “Has that old buzzard popped the question yet?”

  She stopped whipping eggs long enough to glance over at him. “Didn’t realize he was considering it.”

  “Well, color me surprised. I thought he told you everything.”

  “Evidently not.”

  With the table already set and the toaster ready to go, Jimmy leaned his backside against the counter again, this time, right next to Taylor’s workspace. “This is nice,” he said, nodding. “You. Me. Talking. Making breakfast together …”

  Smiling, Taylor dipped scrapple slices into the beaten egg, then into the flour.

  “… like an old married couple.”

  Now why had he felt the need to tack on that particular postscript? “So how many unfinished melodies did you bring with you this time?”

  He took a sideways step farther from her. “Not many. Two, maybe three.”

  Just that quickly, his voice had gone from relaxed to tense. Taylor hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t very well let him continue with that line of conversation and expect things to remain strictly platonic between them.

  “You’ll find four different types of juice in the fridge. If you’re pouring, I’ll have—”

  “Tomato. I know.” He grabbed two small glasses from the cupboard behind his head and put them at the two o’clock position beside each of their plates. “So what’s up with the sewing basket?” he asked, pointing to where it stood near the heavy swinging door that led into the dining room.

  “Oh. That.” She placed the battered scrapple slices into hot oil, and as they sizzled, she told him how Eli had talked her into going up into the attic, where she’d found her mother’s unfinished quilt in an old trunk. “I’m going to add to it, a story behind each square, so he’ll have something to remember Eliot and Margo by.”

  He’d filled one glass halfway, and stopped midstream. “That’s just about the most thoughtful thing I’ve ever heard.” Jimmy put the juice back into the fridge and tapped a fingertip to the quilt design she’d sketched and taped to the freezer door. “Looks like a lot of work,” he said, moving back to the toaster. “I know Eli has been through a lot, but he’s some lucky kid, having someone like you looking out for him.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one,” she admitted. “He’s improved my life in every imaginable way.”

  Jimmy harrumphed. “Think how much more you’d enjoy him if you didn’t have to share him with that cantankerous uncle of his.”

  He’d only met Reece in passing, so what right did he have to say uncle as if it were a curse word? And then, she remembered the muggy summer night when Reece picked Eli up for their first official weekend together. She and Eli had been nearly inseparable those first two months prior, redecorating his room, getting him registered in school and at church, prowling the grounds and house so that he’d know his way around and believe the Misty Wolf was every bit as much his as it was hers. She’d held it together as Eli hugged her goodbye, as Reece wordlessly buckled him into the booster seat, as his shiny black car roared down the driveway. It wasn’t until that final turn took it out of sight that she turned into a blubbering, sniffling mess.

  “What a rude, ungrateful jerk!” Jimmy had barked. “If you hadn’t gone to bat for him, he wouldn’t even have every-other-weekend visits.” Eyes narrowed, he’d pulled her into a protective hug and turned her tears into giggles by saying “Want me to punch his lights out?”

  Back then, she’d believed the hug had been brotherly and the threat, just a bad joke. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Jimmy carried the saucer of toast to the table and sat down. Taylor held the plate of eggs in one hand, scrapple in the other, and decided this was as good a time as any to set the record straight. “I’m so lucky to have a friend like you,” she said, meaning it.

  Jimmy looked at her for a long, quiet moment, and then he sighed. “You gonna hog all that scrapple, or can I have a slice?”

  5

  It had taken hours, but Taylor found everything on her list, from the foldaway cutting mat to milliner needles and basting pins, shiny new thimbles and thread, and a brand new pair of guaranteed-not-to-slip-or-snag scissors. “Decisions, decisions,” she mumbled as the Next Door Bake Shop entrance came into view. The cafe served her favorite beverage—coconut latte—and its Thai-born owner had a flair for baking cookies and muffins even more tasty than her own. What better place to rest up after a long morning of shopping for quilt supplies!

  Aivey waved as she lugged her cache up to the counter. “Hey, Taylor! How are you today?”

  “I’m fine, and I’ll be even better if you tell me you made fresh fudge macaroons and pumpkin muffins today.”

  “You are in luck!” she said over the din of giggling kids and their moms. “Two dozen of each, as usual?”

  “Better make it one,” she said, patting her stomach. “I only have one gu
est this weekend, and he isn’t nearly as sweet on sweets as I am!”

  Dark eyes glittering with mischief, Aivey grinned. “Ah, so this must mean your Jimmy Jacobs is in town.”

  “Yep, he arrived early this morning.” And since even Aivey was saying things like “her Jimmy,” it was probably best not to tell her how early.

  Aivey grabbed an empty box from the shelf. “And how long will he stay with you this time?” she asked, eyebrows wiggling as she filled it with muffins.

  “A week, maybe more.” Evidently, Tootie had been singing the “Taylor and Jimmy, sittin’ in a tree” song in Blacksburg, not just around the inn. “And I know it’s nearly lunchtime, so if you can spare it, could you add a quart of your mushroom-barley soup to the order?”

  While Aivey taped up the muffin box, she nodded at the cutting mat, peeking from one of the bags scattered at Taylor’s feet. “Are you making so many quilts for your Misty Wolf Inn that you have worn out the old one?”

  “No,” Taylor said, laughing, “I just needed something I could fold up fast, so I don’t have to pack everything up when I try to hide my latest project. The quilt I’m working on now is a special surprise, for Eli.”

  “Ah, you must have been wishing to see him, then,” Aivey said with a nod toward the door.

  Taylor turned, and sure enough, there was Eli, pulling and tugging at the handle of the big glass door as his proud-faced uncle pretended not to want to help him open it.

  Aivey leaned forward to whisper “Last time your Eli was here, he told me that he asks to eat breakfast here at the shop every time he is in town.” She ladled soup into a round carton. “But too bad for Eli,” she added, tamping its lid into place, “the doctor, he insists on making pancakes.”

  Taylor knew a few bachelor dads, and every last one of them took shortcuts. Especially where food was concerned. Pizzas and subs, prepackaged foods, TV dinners and fast food. She thought it was wonderful that Reece took the time and trouble to prepare healthy, home-cooked meals when Eli was with him.

  “He is a very polite little boy. Too polite to tell Dr. Montgomery that he is not very good at pancakes.”

  Eli spotted Taylor just then, and raced to the counter. “Taylor!” he shouted, throwing his arms around her waist. “What’re you doing all the way over here?”

  “Oh, just running a few errands.”

  Aivey wiggled her pointer finger. “Oh, Eli,” she said, “look what I have for you.”

  “Cookie crumblers? Yay!”

  While Eli munched, Reece sent Taylor a hello nod. “Good to see you.”

  Then why the frown? she wondered. “You, too.” She blamed the sunshine, pouring through the big gleaming windows. Better that than think sharing Eli—even for a few minutes during one of his weekends—had put it there.

  He nodded again, this time at her shopping bags. “Did you leave anything for the rest of Blacksburg?”

  What’s this, she thought, a smile and a joke from the ever-somber Dr. Montgomery? But before she could reply, Aivey put the boxes on the counter and handed her a sales receipt. “Thank you, Taylor. I hope your guest will enjoy the soup and the treats!”

  “Guest?” Eli asked. “I thought nobody was staying with us until—” He clasped both hands under his chin, as if praying. “Oh, wow … did Jimmy get here early?”

  Without even thinking, she plucked a napkin from the basket on the counter and dusted cookie crumbs from one corner of his mouth. “He arrived this morning,” she said, dabbing at the other side.

  “Way cool! That means he’ll be there when I get home tomorrow night, right?”

  “Yes, he’ll be there.”

  Reece slapped a hand to the back of his neck. Taylor couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might have groaned softly, too. Not that she blamed him. It had to smart a little, hearing Eli’s excitement, especially knowing the boy would spend more time with Jimmy in the coming days than with his uncle. She could tell him that if this visit went the way others had, Jimmy would put in more hours with his guitar than with Eli. Better still, she could invite Reece to dinner one night next week, to see for himself.

  “So did you guys see the dolphin movie last night?”

  “We sure did!” While Eli launched into a detailed retelling of the plot, Taylor led him to a table. Without skipping a beat, he sat down and, thankfully, so did Reece, because the three of them were causing quite a stir in the little cafe. When the boy finally took a breath, Taylor laughed. “My goodness! I’m positively green with envy. You didn’t get anywhere near this excited about that old Chipmunks movie that I took you to see!”

  It was the right thing to say, she realized when a slow, grateful smile lit Reece’s face.

  He tapped his wristwatch. “It’s nearly lunchtime. What would you say to joining us for soup and a sandwich?”

  Much as she wanted to say yes, Taylor didn’t feel right about horning in on his time with Eli.

  “Jimmy,” Reece said, misunderstanding her hesitation, “is a grown man. I’m sure he can take care of himself for an hour or two.”

  “Oh, no he can’t!” Eli blurted. “He almost cutted off his finger once, trying to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. ’Member, Taylor?”

  Yes, now that he’d mentioned it, she did remember. Odd, though, that she’d put it out of her mind, considering it was her first Thanksgiving without Mark.

  She read the confusion in Reece’s eyes as he tried to remember the event. “That was the year you were visiting your folks in Africa, remember?”

  “Not really.” His frown intensified. “It isn’t easy, keeping track of my globetrotting missionary parents.”

  She pretended not to notice the cynicism in his voice. “They were in Zimbabwe, weren’t they? And I think you joined them to vaccinate the mission kids.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” The look on his face said what words needn’t: the year when your pigheaded brother signed up for another tour of duty in Iraq, and started the bad news dominos tumbling.

  In Taylor’s opinion, his sister’s reaction to Eliot’s deployment had been just as pigheaded. Margo had holed up in her bedroom, and if Eli hadn’t begged her to get out of the house, well, there wouldn’t have been a Thanksgiving dinner that year. A good thing, as it turned out, because no doubt she’d have spent the entire weekend nursing a hefty case of lonely widow pity. Instead, she’d invited everyone without a better place to go to join them, including Jimmy and half of his band and their families.

  “I don’t think I ever saw more blood than that,” Eli said, grimacing at the memory.

  The image was just as clear in Taylor’s mind: Jimmy, so busy scratching his bedbug-induced rash, that he nearly severed an artery with the carving knife. If he hadn’t waited until the last minute to have his bus serviced, he could have spent the night in it. But he’d waited until the last minute to book a room, too, and ended up in the dilapidated motel on Highway 412.

  “Nope,” Eli added. “No way I trust that guy to make a sammich, not even if he used a butter knife, ’cause I sure don’t want to spend another boring night in the boring hospital waiting room!”

  If she didn’t know better, Taylor might say Reece enjoyed hearing that the famous Jimmy Jacobs was such a procrastinating incompetent that he’d nearly lopped off his own hand.

  He folded his hands on the table. “So what do you say? Will you join us for lunch?”

  “Say yes, Taylor,” Eli prodded. “It’ll be fun!”

  She wanted to say yes, but her packages were hogging up precious floor space. “And then there’s the soup,” she said, mostly to herself. “It really ought to be refrigerated.”

  “Hey,” Eli piped up. “I have an idea. Uncle Reece keeps a cooler in the back seat for my juice boxes and chocolate milk and stuff.” He beamed at his uncle. “Bet he’d let you borrow it … if you say please.”

  “Good plan, kiddo.” Reece met Taylor’s gaze to add, “I can stow your packages in your car. I mean, since I’ll be out there, anyway, put
ting your soup into the cooler. If you’ll join us, that is.” He held out one hand, palm up. “And if you’ll give me your keys.” Grinning, he looked at Eli and winked. “Please?”

  It did sound like fun. And she hadn’t eaten since sunrise. Unshouldering her purse, Taylor searched for her key ring. “My car is parked right—”

  “Across the street,” Reece finished for her. “We know. Li’l eagle eyes, here, spotted it on our way in.”

  She handed him the keys. “But I have to warn you, the remote thingy is so old that the symbols have worn off. The button on the right is the horn, and the left one unlocks the doors.” She was about to add, or is it the other way around? when her stomach growled. Loud enough that she hoped the cafe’s chatter and clatter had camouflaged it.

  No such luck, she realized when Eli said, “Are you hungry already?”

  “Actually, I had a nice big breakfast.” She didn’t think it necessary to add at five o’clock this morning.

  But she had shared that big breakfast with Jimmy, and she didn’t want to risk adding fuel to the “he’s your man” fire. “I’m fine. So what do you guys have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “Our idea man, here, says his teacher told him to …” He turned to Eli. “What’s the assignment again?”

  The boy hung his head and mumbled “Draw something about a place where I want to go but never did. Yet.”

  “So I thought we’d head over to Smithfield Plantation when we’re through here,” Reece continued. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been there, either, even though it’s been right here under my nose for years. You’re welcome to join us.”