by Rachel Hauck
“And you can’t have both?” Lana asked.
Taylor gave Lana a wry smile, shaking her head. “He runs a family business in New Hampshire. He can’t leave.”
“What about you? Do you have family in New Hampshire?”
With that question, Taylor’s heart came alive. “Yes.” She described her mom and dad, her brother and his family, and the beautiful pieces of fabric that made up the community quilt of White Birch.
“Sounds like a wonderful town.”
“It is.” Taylor took another bite of salad and washed it down with a sip of soda.
“What about this job?”
Taylor laughed, thinking of the comparison. “Work, work, work. Lots of money. Sunshine. More work.”
“A new life, eh?” Lana said.
“Sort of—more like a major career move.”
Lana looked down and, from Taylor’s angle, it looked like her lips moved in prayer.
After a few seconds, Lana said, “I had an opportunity many years ago to move to Hollywood and be in the movies.”
Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, I was one of those ‘discovered’ girls. Local beauty contest. You’ve heard the stories.”
“That must have been exciting.”
Lana shook her head. “I felt like the queen of the universe. Once the talent agent called me, I was knocking the dust of this little town off my feet and moving to Hollywood.”
“What happened?” Taylor scooped up more salad then buttered a corner of her roll.
“That man in there happened. We were high school sweethearts. He wanted to marry me. But I refused. How could I turn down Hollywood?”
“I know,” Taylor said. “That’s how I feel.”
Lana nodded with understanding. “Finally my wise mother pulled me aside. She said, ‘Lana, it’s okay to choose love.’”
Taylor sat back, her brow furrowed, the simple words “choose love” drilling into her heart. “What did that mean?”
“That if I chose to stay home and marry Ralph, that was just as wonderful as moving to Hollywood to be a star. Even more so.”
“You chose love.”
Lana smiled. “I did. Forty years, five children, and twelve grandchildren later, I can honestly say I’ve never doubted my decision.”
Taylor leaned forward, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t you wonder how Hollywood would have gone? Would you have become a famous star? Become rich? Lived a life of glamour?”
“Most of the girls rounded up by that agent ended up with nothing. Not one made it. A couple of them had flash fame and married rich men but wound up divorced, in custody battles—several of them were addicted to drugs and alcohol.”
“Wow.”
“Truth is, Taylor, I might have made it. But the Lord’s will for me was right here in Kansas. Ralph built this diner, and we’ve led so many people to the Lord I can’t count them all. It downright humbles me. Out here in the middle of nowhere, God sends us people who need His love.”
“And I’m one of them.”
“I suppose so.”
“Oh, Lana, what do I do?”
“Tell me. Do you love him?”
Taylor lowered her head. Until now, she’d never allowed herself to ask that question. She had loved him. Past tense. But did she love him now? Present tense?
“Taylor?”
She looked up at Lana. “Yes, I love him. Very much.” As soon as she said the words, peace fell over her. A sure, strong, steady peace.
“Then choose love, Taylor. Choose love.”
Will dialed her cell phone for the fifth time that night. Once again, her voice mail answered. Once again, he left a message.
“I’m coming to visit you over Christmas.”
Taylor left six days ago, and he’d managed short, tense conversations with her the first two days. He hadn’t spoken to her since.
She’d be in California by now, but he wasn’t giving up. He was keeping to Grandma’s plan. Pursue her until she married someone else—or he flat grew weary. But that would take awhile.
He missed her. Everywhere he went, he thought of her. Work, the park, Peri’s, the diner, church … In the core of his being, he knew Taylor Hanson was his wife.
“Lord, how long do I have to wait?”
Harry listened from his bed by the fireplace as Will talked out loud. His home didn’t feel like home anymore. It needed a woman’s touch. It needed Taylor.
She’s not even here and she’s driving me crazy. He grabbed his coat and keys. “Be back later, Harry.”
He drove downtown, not sure where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. Unclipping his cell phone, he dialed Ethan.
“Are you in the mood for some of Sam’s pie?”
“Not tonight. Julie’s playing down in Manchester with the quartet. I’m on my way down there.”
“Have a good time.” Will slowed and pulled into a slot in front of the diner.
“Why don’t you give Grandpa a call?”
“I just might.” But there was no answer at Grandpa’s, Dad’s, or Bobby’s, so Will decided to eat his pie alone.
Sam’s was crowded. Will waved to the proprietor as he looked for a table by the fireplace. It was a cold night, and he doubted he’d find one. But as he walked toward the back, a couple vacated a table for two, and Will took their place.
A seat for me. A seat for Jesus, he thought.
Janet handed him a menu. “Eating alone tonight?”
Will grinned. “Not really.”
Janet cocked a brow. “Oh, expecting someone?”
“No,” Will said, trying not to laugh out loud.
Janet shook her head. “Whatever. What’ll it be, Will?”
“Coffee and the biggest slice of …” He looked over the menu. “Apple pie a la mode.”
“Coming up.” She took the menu and hurried away.
Will’s gaze roamed the diner. Jordan and Mia sat on the other side, deep in conversation. He was happy for them. He saw several families from church, and—oh, Grandpa and Grandma. He thought of joining them, but they looked like they were enjoying their time together.
The fire crackled behind him, and the diner’s music consisted of clinking dishes and the steady murmur of voices in conversation.
He glanced toward the front door just as it opened and Taylor walked in.
His heart jumped to his throat and he couldn’t breathe. Slowly, he rose to his feet.
Her eyes scanned the room as if searching for someone. When her gaze landed on him, she stormed across the diner.
“All right, all right,” she said in a voice too loud.
Will moved toward her. “Taylor, what are you doing here?” He couldn’t hold back a grin. Her dark hair stood on end, and her coat slipped off one shoulder and down her arm. Her designer handbag dangled from the tips of her fingers.
“There I am, halfway across the country, exhausted, crying every tear I could cry … “
“Do you want to sit down?” He reached for her, motioning to the other chair. Laughter bubbled from deep inside.
She jerked away from him. “No, no, I don’t want to sit down.”
“O–okay.”
“I’m halfway across the country—I said that. Okay, I stop at this little diner to eat, out in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere, Will.” Her green eyes locked on his face.
“Nowhere,” he echoed.
“I finally stopped crying. I was over you. Over you.”
“Over me,” he said with a nod, suddenly aware of the quiet and that all eyes were on them.
“So this lady, Lana, is talking to Jesus. He tells her about me. Not me, but a woman who is choosing between love and career. Can you believe that? I never, I mean never—and she says to me, ‘Choose love.’ Choose love!”
Will’s middle tightened with anticipation. Taylor made no sense, but he didn’t care. “Love is good.”
“Why did you do this to me? Why? Six days on the road and I’m still in White Birch!” She
whacked his arm with her purse.
Will reached for her and pulled her to him. “What are you talking about?”
Tears streamed down her face. “I love you, Will. Always have. Always will.”
He kissed her. At first tenderly then with every emotion in his heart.
The diner erupted with applause and cheers.
“All right!”
“Way to go, Will and Taylor!”
“About time!”
Taylor wrapped her arms around him and bored her head into his shoulder, weeping. “Marry me, Will. Marry me.”
He stepped back and lifted her head. “No.”
“What?” she asked, her expression twisted with confusion.
Slowly, Will dropped to one knee.
Taylor laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Janet waved a napkin at Taylor with one hand, blowing her own nose with the other.
“Taylor,” Will began, looking up at her, “I love you. Always have, always will. Will you marry me?”
She laughed and gripped his collar, pulling him off his knees. “Yes. Yes! I’ll marry you.”
He picked her up and whirled her around, laughing and hooting. When he set her down, he looked her in the eyes and kissed her with passion.
For Jesus, the Christ, the Prince of Peace.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Rachel Hauck
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
RACHEL HAUCK lives in Florida with her husband, Tony, a youth pastor. A graduate of Ohio State University, she worked for seventeen years in the software industry before leaving to write and work in ministry. She is also a speaker and worship leader. Rachel served the writing community as president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Visit her Web site at www.rachelhauck.com.
