Song of Solomon (24 page)

Shaylynn looked at Eloise and caught the double meaning of her words.

“My son is a good man; and I'm not saying that just because he's my young-un. Everybody who knows Sol knows he's good. Even Audrey knows it.”

It was Shaylynn's first time hearing the woman's name, but she immediately knew that it belonged to Neil's ex-wife.

“If that girl could take back the decision she made to walk away, she would. All he would have to do is call, and she'd come a-running. He loved her once, and he might even still love her to a certain degree. But he's not
in love
with her anymore. She had her chance and she blew it. I ain't saying that my son is perfect, and I'm not trying to say that their failed marriage was one hundred percent Audrey's fault, but there was a time when she could have had him back, and she blew it. And because of it, she's all by herself and unhappy.” Eloise released a huff and added, “Every year, she shows up at our family reunion like a dunce, trying to keep ties to a family that ain't even hers no more. Just stupid. That's what regrets will do to you. Don't let that happen to you.”

Having had her say, Eloise stood from the sofa and limped her way into the kitchen, leaving Shaylynn to her own thoughts. Eloise's home decorating and Neil's persistent wooing had kept her quite busy over the past few days. It had been a while since Shaylynn reminded herself of her grief. Robotically, she inhaled and exhaled. Inhaled and exhaled.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

The pain that simple deep breathing had brought to her chest for seven years was gone.

“Dr. Taylor, are you okay?” Margaret knocked and spoke at the same time. “You've been in a funk for two or three days now, and it's sure not like you to be hiding out on the inside while the school's annual carnival is going on outside.” She stepped closer, realizing Neil's eyes were focused on his computer screen. “What kind of working are you doing on a Saturday?”

Without looking up from his task, Neil replied, “Just finishing up on some evaluation forms that I got behind on while wasting my time on other matters.” Neil didn't even try to mask the sourness in his voice.

“Sounds like there's a story behind that. You want to talk about it?”

“I'd rather not.” What Neil really wanted was to be left alone. He knew that Margaret's concerns were genuine, but still . . .

“Are you going to answer that?” she asked, watching his cell phone dance across the credenza behind him as it vibrated, indicating an incoming call.

“I have voice mail,” Neil mumbled. Why didn't she just take the hint and leave him alone? Margaret was good at a lot of things, but minding her own business wasn't one of them.

“Dr. Taylor, I don't like seeing you like this. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Neil looked up, but the smile he offered was cheerless. “I'll be fine, Ms. Dasher. It's just one of those days.” His eyes returned to the screen in front of him.

“Does this have anything to do with Mrs. Ford?”

“What?” Margaret had his full attention again. Where had that question come from?

“My hearing might not be the best, but ain't a thing wrong with my eyes,” Margaret said, like bifocals weren't permanently perched at the end of her nose. “Every time y'all are around each other the air gets thick like taffy. She can't keep her eyes off you. . . . You can't keep your eyes off her. I saw her sneak in the back door at church last Sunday. Whatever happened to the other church she was attending? She got reason to want to attend KBCC now?” Margaret didn't wait for an answer, not that she would have gotten one anyway. “And I saw the way you two were exchanging looks after the benediction. This has something to do with her, doesn't it?”

Neil rubbed his eyes. He needed to be wearing his own reading glasses, but hadn't yet chosen to remove them from his desk drawer. Truth be told, the nagging throb that was rhythmically beating behind his eyes had little to do with eye strain. The tension of the past few days was beginning to get to him. “I really don't care to talk about it right now, Ms. Dasher. Do you mind?”

“No, I don't mind.” She took a few steps backward. “But you know I'm here when you're ready.”

A half smile tugged at the right corner of Neil's lips. “Thank you.”

Margaret turned away, but stopped at the mouth of the doorway. “Do you plan to come out at all? The children have been asking for you.”

“Have they?” A flicker of light brightened Neil's face. He wanted to be with the children, but he needed solitude. “I'll come out a little later; maybe.”

“Dr. Taylor . . . are you in here?”

The words were sung from a child's mouth and echoed through the almost empty building. Margaret turned to find its source. “See,” she said, “you're not out there, so the children are going to start coming in here.”

“I'm in my office,” Neil called out to whoever it was. “Come on in.”

After a short wait, Margaret stepped aside and revealed the face that went with the voice. “Hey, Dr. Taylor.”

Neil broke into a wide grin. Outside of brief classroom checks on Thursday and Friday, he hadn't seen Chase since he and Shaylynn had picked the boy up from Ella Mae's house after their dinner date. “Hey, Chase, what it do?” The standard high five was exchanged. “Are you having fun?”

“Not yet. I just got here. When I win some prizes, I'll have some fun.”

Neil laughed. Until now, he'd never really noticed the resemblance that Chase bore to his mother. Shaylynn harped on how much he looked like Emmett; and he did, but Neil could see some of Shaylynn too. Or maybe he was just missing her, and his eyes were seeing what they longed to see.

“What are you doing inside the building?” Margaret asked. “All the prizes are outside.”

“I had to use the bathroom and Mama said I couldn't use the potties outside.”

“Can't blame her for that,” Margaret replied.

Neil steadied his voice in an effort not to sound anxious. “Are you here with your mother?”

“Yes.” Chase nodded his head, and then spun around on one foot, like he'd suddenly gotten a burst of energy. “She's outside.”

“Is she?” Neil clicked on the button to shut down his system and distanced his chair from the desk. He tried to make his motions flow smoothly and seem casual, but he could sense Margaret's eyes locked in his direction.

“You coming now?” Chase asked, giving his body one last spin for good measure before stopping to wait for an answer.

“Yes, Dr. Taylor, are you?” Margaret's question was cynical, and Neil made a conscious effort not to look at her. She continued her mocking. “I thought you had to work, Dr. Taylor. Chase must have said something to change your mind, because clearly, it was set just a moment ago.”

Neil still didn't reply, but he shot his assistant a look that warned her of the repercussions to come. While he turned his attention back to the computer, another familiar voice joined them.

“Chase Elliot Ford. There you are. Didn't I tell you to come right back?”

“I came to get Dr. Taylor.”

Neil kept his eyes glued to the computer screen for as long as he could, but when the machine powered off and the screen went black, it was no longer a valid avoidance tactic. He stood from his desk and looked toward his crowded open door. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ford. How are you?”

“I'm okay.” She offered a faint smile. “You?”

Not even possessing the strength for propaganda, Neil shrugged. “I've been better.” He then turned to Chase and mustered the best smile he could. “Ready to go?”

“Ready!” Chase had more enthusiasm than all the adults in the room combined.

Neil stepped around his desk and paused when he noticed Shaylynn's eyes examining him. She'd never seen him dressed quite this trendy before, and she appeared to be both pleased and fascinated by his attire: a pair of Sean John jeans and a matching denim jacket by the same designer. The button-front pinstriped shirt Neil wore under the jacket was loosened at the neck, giving it a casual but stylish look, and he wore a black New York Yankees baseball cap. There was no allegiance to the team. He'd purchased it yesterday after making the decision to take Adam Schmitz up on his challenge to train for the Peachtree Road Race. When Neil stepped into Sports Authority to buy new training gear in preparation for next week's gym visit, he saw the hat and thought of his chat with Shaylynn as they sat in the back of the school bus on the ride to the Georgia Aquarium.

When Shaylynn looked up at his headgear, she must have thought of their conversation too, because she smirked just a bit at the sight of it. Neil stood there a moment longer to give her a few extra seconds to take in the view, and then he restarted his trek to the door.

“May I have a word with you before you leave, Dr. Taylor?”

Neil stopped and looked at Shaylynn. There was a tingling in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't know whether it was a good sign. “Now?” he asked.

Shaylynn's eyes darted briefly toward Margaret; then she nodded and added, “Alone . . . please? It'll only take a few minutes.”

There was a long and thick silence that Neil's voice eventually ended. “Ms. Dasher, do you mind taking Chase into your office space for a moment? We'll be out shortly.”

A perceptive smirk crossed Margaret's lips. She took Chase by the hand and led him out of the office, giving both Neil and Shaylynn one last clever glimpse before closing the door that separated her space from Neil's.

Neil didn't move from the place where Shaylynn's voice had seized him. He looked at her, and every time her gaze met his, Neil's heart turned over in response. The suspense was unbearable. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes. I . . . I wanted to show you something.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a card. Her hand was trembling a little, and though Neil noticed it, he didn't make mention of it. Instead, he took two steps forward so that he'd be just close enough to reach the card in her outstretched hand. His eyes scanned the bold lettering that was printed on the faded backdrop of a photo of Shaylynn's own meticulously decorated living room.

“Shay Décor. Shaylynn Ford, interior designer.” Neil looked up at her, not quite sure why she'd given him the card. He already knew about her line of business.

“The name,” she pointed out. “I had it legally changed.”

“Oh.” It was all clear to him now, and he smiled when he looked at the card again. “Shay Décor.”

“Yes.”

“Good choice,” Neil said. He brought his eyes up from the card again. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” He was glad she'd chosen to use the name he'd suggested, but it wasn't exactly the reason that he hoped she'd requested to be alone with him.

“Part of it.” She took a breath. “I also wanted to thank you.”

Neil's eyebrows rose in perplexity. “For?”

“For wanting to love me.”

When she said those words, Shaylynn fidgeted, reaching up to touch her neck before allowing her hand to fall back to her side. It was a swift and simple movement, but during it, Neil noticed something that caused his feet to unglue themselves from the space where they'd been planted. He strolled forward and erased the remaining space that separated them. Neil extended his arm, grabbing Shaylynn by the hand and staring at her vacant finger.

Sundry feelings surged through Neil's body, his mind a crazy mixture of hope and fear. “What does this mean?”

Shaylynn looked up at him, and Neil saw the same frightened affection in her eyes that he saw after she pulled away from him on the property of Canoe restaurant. It was a look that said, “I want to stay, but I need to go.” Afraid that she'd turn and run as she'd done that night, Neil slipped his arm around her waist and held her in a secure but tender embrace.

“Talk to me,” he pled with her. “Tell me what it means.”

“I don't know what it means, Solomon.” A lonely tear fell from Shaylynn's right eye. “I can't make any promises.”

It wasn't exactly the response that Neil wanted to hear, but she had called him Solomon, and that made it good enough. At forty-five, though, Neil was a man who wasn't looking to play games. He didn't want to pressure Shaylynn or scare her away, but there was more that he needed to know.

Before speaking his mind, he pulled her so close that he could see his own reflection in her watery eyes. “I've never asked you to promise me anything, Shay. All I've ever asked for is a chance. Can you give me that? And I mean a
real
chance.” Neil inhaled, braced himself for the whatever, and took the plunge. “Am I the kind of man that you think you could love?”

Behind the force of one blink, a tear from her left eye evened the score, and Neil exhaled when Shaylynn nodded her answer. He wanted to grab her in his arms and never let her go, but what she struggled to reveal next momentarily held him hostage.

“I . . . I guess I've felt . . .
something
for a while now. I hoped that it was nothing, but when we were together the other night . . . when you sang to me . . .”

She allowed her voice to drift, and Neil allowed his mind to do the same. Had Dr. Charles Loather Sr. been right all along? Had God gifted his singing to have some type of supernatural power? People had testified in the past that they found healing in his song, and Deacon Burgess said Neil's song was anointed to save souls. But was it also anointed to win hearts? It all sounded unbelievable, but sometimes that was just the way God worked, right? In mysterious ways. Ways that blew people's minds. Maybe this was one of them.

“I tell you what,” he whispered, using his thumb to whisk away a portion of the moisture that had gathered on Shaylynn's face. “I'll promise to keep singing if you'll promise to keep feeling . . .
something
.”

She laughed a little and nodded again. “Okay.”

Joy bubbled in Neil's belly and shone in his eyes. His phone was vibrating against the credenza again, but if it thought it would get answered now, it had another think coming. This moment was perfect to do something he'd wanted to do since the day he sat across from Shaylynn on the back of the school bus. Completely ignoring the persistent humming of his cell, Neil's face slowly descended to meet Shaylynn's. Under the circumstances, he was fairly confident that she wouldn't leave him hanging as she'd done at Canoe.

Neil longed to know if her lips were as delectable on a Saturday morning as they'd been in his Wednesday night dream . . . if they were as soft in his real-life office as they'd been in the wedding in his dream. Making the long-awaited connection, he wasted no time to use his lips to part hers in a soul-reaching massage. She readily responded, and in a matter of seconds, it was difficult to determine who was in control: perhaps both of them, perhaps neither. Neil hungrily ran his fingers through Shaylynn's braids, and then nearly lost his footing when he felt her slender fingers press into the flesh on the back of his neck, forcing his mouth to crush harder against hers.

Good God from Zion! The dream couldn't even compare. Neil couldn't help but wonder how long Shaylynn had been waiting for this moment.