For Love of Eli: Quilts of Love Series

by Loree Lough

  She thought of the quilt, still sitting in a heap on the kitchen table. What if Jimmy got it in his head to cook something, and stained it by accident, just because she’d forgotten to put it away? Besides, Mark had taken her to the plantation shortly before his cancer diagnosis. “Thanks, but I have a to-do list that’s as long as my arm.” She leaned closer to Eli. “When did Mrs. Cunningham give you this homework assignment?”

  “What is the day before yesterday?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “And it’s due when you go back to school on Monday?”

  He put his chin on the table and made goofy faces at his reflection in the chrome napkin holder. “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t understand, Eli. You didn’t have school on Friday. Why is this the first I’m hearing about your assignment?”

  “Because,” he droned, “you never let me do anything fun until my homework is done. And I thought and thought and I thought, but I couldn’t think up a single place that I wanted to see.” He looked adoringly at his uncle. “Then I thought ‘Uncle Reece will think of something!”

  Taylor looked at Reece, too … just in time to see him wince.

  “I, ah, I assumed that you knew about it,” he explained, “and that letting me take charge was your way of saying ‘do your share for a change.’ ”

  A few weeks earlier, she’d started a campaign to teach Eli that even four-year-old boys needed to take some accountability for schoolwork and minor chores around the inn. Had he shared their discussions about responsibility and duty with Reece?

  “I feel like a ninny, admitting this,” she began, “but it never occurred to me that you’d want to help with spelling lessons and simple addition and show-and-tell. You’re a pediatrician, for heaven’s sake, surrounded by whiny kids all day long. Not that Eli is like that, of course. Unless you’ve asked him to print ‘Eli Reece Bradley’ in the spaces between the fat blue lines on those flimsy sheets of writing paper.” She was rambling and knew it but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  Reece smiled as he closed his right fist around her keys, grabbed the handles of her shopping bags with the left. “Might as well get this out of the way,” he said. And using his chin as a pointer, he alerted Taylor to Eli’s wide-eyed, guilty expression. “When I bring him home, maybe we can set a time to talk. You know, about things like homework and field trips and … stuff.”

  Taylor picked up a menu as he shouldered his way out of the cafe. “What are you in the mood for today, my little man? Panini? Pot pie? Chicken wrap?”

  “Um-m-m… .”

  No doubt he was wishing Aivey would add burgers, fries, and pizza to the menu. “I wonder what your Uncle Reece is in the mood for?”

  “He always gets the chicken wrap, so—”

  The nonstop beeping of a car horn interrupted him. Her car horn.

  “Uh-oh,” Eli said, looking toward the windows.

  “You recognize it, too, do you?”

  He got onto his knees for a better look, then faced her and grinned. “Guess the right button was the wrong one, huh.”

  Lord help me, I’m raising a comedian.

  And then, the blessed relief of silence that told her Reece had figured out—and corrected—her mistake. A moment later, he sat across from her, wearing a grin that matched Eli’s, right down to the puckish dimple in his right cheek.

  She wasn’t sure what he’d order, or what they’d talk about over soup and sandwiches, but one thing was certain …

  … lunch would not be boring.

  6

  Lunch was delicious, and I’m stuffed!” Taylor said. “But really, I wish you had let me pick up the check. I couldn’t have stayed if not for the loan of the cooler. And then there’s the matter of my car’s horn almost deafening you.”

  He screwed a fingertip into his ear. “Sorry, come again?”

  Her eyes grew big and round, and when she got the joke, what followed wasn’t a tinny giggle, like Dixie’s, but a happy, hearty laugh that turned heads … and his heart.

  “Next time,” he said, opening the driver’s door, “lunch is on you.”

  She squatted to make herself kid-sized—not that she had far to go, tiny as she was—and wrapped Eli in a hug every bit as hearty as her laugh. Her vibrant calf-length skirt formed a gauzy puddle around them, and for a minute there, Reece found himself wishing he could join them in the colorful arc.

  “Have fun at the plantation,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.” When she straightened, Taylor faced Reece. “See you tomorrow, too. Maybe you can read him a bedtime story and listen to his prayers, and afterward, we’ll go over his schedule … and stuff.” She bit her lower lip. “Unless you already have other plans, that is.”

  “It’s either Eli’s schedule or balance my checkbook.”

  “I’ll make a light snack of some sort … sherbet, maybe, or—”

  “Do I get to stay up late and have some?” Eli wanted to know.

  And Taylor said, “We couldn’t eat your favorite dessert without including you, now could we?”

  When she laughed, her dangly silver earrings caught a shard of sunlight. Even they didn’t sparkle nearly as much as her eyes. Reece remembered the night when, to save time before seeing a play in town, he had picked Dixie up on his way back to the Misty Wolf. He’d introduced Taylor to his fiancée, who remarked during the drive to the theater that Taylor had probably kept Maybelline in business: “I’ll bet it takes a whole tube of mascara to make her eyelashes look that long and thick.” But standing here in the bright sunlight, it was easy to see how wrong Dixie had been, about the makeup … and a whole lot of other things that had nothing to do with Taylor.

  She tossed her enormous purse onto the passenger seat, and as she started to slide in behind the steering wheel, caught her heel in the hem of her skirt. It threw her off balance, and if he hadn’t wrapped both hands around her waist, she’d have toppled face-first into the gutter.

  “Can you believe it? What a total klutz I am!” Blinking up into his face, she added “If you hadn’t been here, I would have ended up there.” She steadied herself by planting both hands on his chest, using her chin to point at the mini-river of black water, fed by last night’s storm, that carried soda straws and cigarette butts toward the manhole down the block.

  “That wouldn’t have been good,” he said, surprised by the gravelly tone of his voice. He got a whiff of her shampoo—the same flowery scent he’d inhaled in the lawyer’s office when she’d leaned over to suggest weekend visits with Eli. He could have kissed her, because the proposal had taken the sting out of learning that Margo left him nothing but the mortgage on a house that wasn’t even his.

  Taylor was close enough to kiss now, too, and the realization set his heart to hammering. She must have felt it pounding like a parade drum, because she stepped back, leaving two cold spots where her warm little palms had been.

  “If you like,” she said, easing into the car, “I can fix supper for you and Eli on Sunday, too.”

  It crossed his mind as he stood, one hand on the seat’s headrest, the other atop the open door, that she could read his mind. Because this time when he acknowledged that he was close enough to kiss her, she licked her lips.

  “We were gonna eat the Tay-getti that you made for us for Sunday dinner,” Eli said from somewhere behind Reece.

  “We could bring it,” Reece said, “and heat it up at your place.”

  Taylor leaned forward, just enough to see around Reece’s bulk. “No, sweetie, the spaghetti was supposed to be a guys-only meal. Besides,” she said, turning the key in the ignition, “now we’re even.”

  “Even?”

  “I’ve got one of your coolers,” she said, aiming a thumb over her shoulder, “and you’ve got one of mine.”

  “Ah,” he said, closing the door. “Drive safely, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Eli stepped up to the open window. “What were
you gonna fix for supper, before I got all stupid and reminded you about leftovers?”

  “To be honest, I have no idea!”

  All three of them shared a moment of laughter. A good sound, Reece thought as she shifted into drive.

  She pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then blew it toward Eli … and he pretended to catch it. Then she pointed at her heart, at him, and drove away.

  Reece didn’t know how long he’d stood there, watching her car get smaller and smaller. It took Eli, tugging at his hand, to make him aware that he’d been staring, openmouthed, like an addle-brained boy in the throes of his first crush.

  “Well,” he said, “are you ready, li’l buddy?”

  Eli’s shoulders sagged and he exhaled a heavy sigh. “I’ve been ready. It was you two, lookin’ all googly-eyed at each other that held us up.”

  “Googly-eyed, huh?” he said as they walked hand in hand toward the car.

  “Oh, yeah. Big time.”

  “Where’d you even hear such an old-fashioned word?”

  Eli shrugged. “I dunno. A cartoon, or maybe one of those black-and-white movies Taylor likes to watch after I go to bed.”

  The picture of her, curled up on the couch—a bowl of popcorn in her lap and dabbing a tissue to the corner of her eye as Wuthering Heights or Destry Rides Again flickered on the screen—distracted him so much that he almost didn’t think to ask how Eli knew what was on TV.

  Before he could pose the question, Eli tugged at his elbow. “Um, Uncle Reece?” he asked, “you gonna unlock the door?”

  “Sorry, buddy,” he said, opening it.

  Eli buckled his seatbelt, and waited for Reece to buckle his to say, “If you like her so much, why don’t you just marry her?”

  Surely Eli was kidding. Reece could find out for sure, with nothing more than a quick glance in the rearview mirror. But he fired up the engine, instead, because how would he respond to wide-eyed proof that the boy had been 100 percent serious?

  “Sure would make life easier for everybody. No more packing and unpacking. No more driving back and forth. No more mix-ups over homework and stuff.”

  Shaking his head, Reece blended into the traffic on Turner Street. How old are you really, Eli, he wondered, risking a peek in the mirror. Forty? Fifty-five? Because he didn’t know another four-year-old with the capacity to figure stuff like that out, let alone articulate it! He’d share the story with Taylor when he dropped Eli off tomorrow … if there was a way to do it without letting her know about the crazy thoughts clanging in his own brain.

  Several times as they rode down Route 412, Eli hollered out “Punch buggy blue!” and “Purple tractor trailer!” It was a game Reece invented to help pass the time between his place in town and the Misty Wolf. Thankfully, it was holding Eli’s attention today.

  “Look! There’s Buffalo Wild Wings!” he said as they made the left onto 460. “We haven’t gone there in a long, long time.”

  And it was true. Knowing how talented Taylor was in the kitchen, he’d made a point of trying to cook for Eli, too. But maybe a steady diet of home-cooked meals was precisely why the boy enjoyed eating out, at least once in a while. “Next visit,” Reece promised. Then, “You up for a little navigating?”

  “Sure!” He sat up as straight as the straps of the booster seat would allow. “What am I looking for this time?”

  “Maywood Street. It’ll be our signal for the next turn.”

  “How is it spelled?”

  No sooner did Reece answer than Eli belted out “I see it, I see it!”

  “Yep, and now watch for Coal Bank Hollow.” He spelled that, too.

  “Now what?” he asked as Reece made the turn.

  “Batts Road.”

  When the sign came into view, Eli read “B-A-T-T-S.” And pointing, he added, “1-7-7-3. Is that the address?”

  “No, it’s the year William Preston moved there.”

  He thought about it for a minute before asking, “Then why isn’t it called Preston Plantation?”

  “Because his wife’s name was Smith before she married him.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  Reece chuckled. The couple had six kids by the time Preston bought the land, but Eli would learn that soon enough. He hoped the tour, itself, would clear things up … and hold the boy’s interest.

  His concerns were quickly alleviated as he watched Eli, listening intently to every word their guide said. Eli asked dozens of questions, from how things were made “in the old days” to which tools were used to make them, and seemed particularly fascinated by the construction of the rough-hewn wood fence that surrounded the garden.

  When the tour ended, he noticed the gift shop. “Is it like the one at the rock museum?”

  As they walked toward it hand in hand, Reece nodded, remembering the day several months ago when he’d taken Eli to the Geosciences Museum at Virginia Tech. He’d been so captivated by a rock tumbler kit that Reece bought it, then spent the remainder of the weekend trying to ignore the repetitious klunk-ker-klunk as the boy polished every last one. It hurt a little when Eli announced that he intended to give the collection to Taylor … until he tucked the biggest, shiniest chunk of granite under Reece’s pillow. “Now every time you touch it, you can think of me!” The kid sure had a talent for testing a man’s ability to keep a lid on his emotions!

  “Does your foot hurt more than usual today, Uncle Reece?”

  “Nah, probably just a pebble in my shoe.”

  “Or a wrinkle in your sock. I hate it when that happens.”

  Most days, his condition—Amniotic Band Syndrome—was barely detectible. ABS had cut off the blood supply to the big toe of his right foot, effectively amputating it even before he was born. Days when he was on his feet for hours, standing at the operating table or taking a walking tour, like he had today, put extra demands on the remaining toes, his instep, and his sole.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, “I hate that, too.”

  “Maybe there’s a bench in the gift shop, and you can sit on it to fix your sock.”

  “Maybe,” Reece said, grinning as he opened the gift shop door.

  Once inside, Eli turned his jeans pockets inside out and produced two quarters, three pennies, and a dime. “Think this is enough to buy something for Taylor’s birthday?” he asked, blowing a denim string from his palm.

  “No doubt about it, but are you sure you want to spend all of it in one place?”

  “Oh, this isn’t all of it,” he announced, patting his back pocket. “I have some paper money, right here. And if that’s still not enough, I have what’s in my duck bank.”

  He’d bought it during their very first nephew-uncle weekend, and once Eli had chosen a spot for it on the bookshelf in his room, Reece dropped in a handful of coins.

  “A-a-a-and,” he said, “if that’s still not enough, I have a whole bunch-a more paper money in my pig bank at home.”

  “Wow. Where’d you get all that cash!” It felt good, knowing he’d started the boy on a money-saving path.

  “Earned it.”

  The way he said it reminded Reece of the way Taylor had said “of course” when he’d asked if the lemonade was fresh-squeezed.

  “No kiddin’? By doing what?”

  “Well,” he said, counting on pudgy fingers, “by keeping my room neat, and helping Taylor load the dishwasher, and sweeping the front walk, and watering plants … stuff like that.”

  “Important stuff.”

  “That’s what Taylor says.” Eli pointed. “Hey, look over there. Jewelry. She loves jewelry!”

  From the mouths of babes, Reece thought, cringing when he remembered laughing when Dixie compared Taylor to a gypsy. But the guilt was quickly supplanted by pity: if it still hurt this much to think about that loveless relationship, how much more painful were Taylor’s memories?

  “Can I help you with something, sir?” Bold red letters on her name tag identified her as GLADYS.

  He stepped up to the counter. “As a
matter of fact, you can.” He nodded toward Eli, who was busy spinning an earrings display rack. “My boy has a few dollars in his pocket, but I’m sure it won’t be enough to pay for his mom’s birthday gift.” Peeling two twenties from his money clip, Reece added “If there’s any change left over, I want you to keep it, for helping me bolster his ego.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take your money. I have a grandson about his age, and—”

  “But Gladys, if he sees you handing me change, he’ll know he’s been duped.”

  She looked at Eli and nodded. “Oh. Yes. I suppose you’re right.” And then she snickered. “But what if what he buys is more than forty dollars?”

  He scanned a few of the price tags inside the display cabinet that separated them and saw just how possible that was. “Then you’ll have to distract him while I count out the rest.” Sliding the silver money clip back into his pocket, he winked. “Thanks, Gladys.”

  “Thanks for what?” Eli wanted to know. “Did you buy something, too?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  He plunked all of his money onto the counter and pointed at the turquoise set inside the case. “How much for those?”

  Gladys turned over the tiny white tag and announced a price two cents less than what he’d put down.

  “Including the little box?”

  “Why, of course.”

  Eli fist-pumped the air. Then his smile faded as he looked up at Reece. “Do you think she’d like it?”

  “Y’know, I think she’ll love it.” He winked at Gladys and said, “We’ll take it.”

  Eli stood on tiptoe, watching as Gladys removed the price tag and placed the set onto a bed of cotton. “If you have a green ribbon, that would be really cool, because green is her favorite color.”

  Gladys chuckled. “Is that so?”

  “Yup. ’Cause my eyes are green.” Shoulders hunched, he giggled. “Girls sure have silly reasons to pick favorite stuff.”

  “Yes, we sure do,” Gladys agreed, and snipped off a length of green ribbon. She peered over the black-and-white polka dot frames of her powerful magnifying lenses. “While I’m finishing up here, why don’t you see if you can find a pretty card to go with this lovely present. They’re on the rack over there by the door. All handmade and mostly blank inside, so you write whatever your heart desires!”