A Taylor-Made Life by Kary Rader

the chance to freshen up.” She fanned her
hand in front of her nose. “I was a little rank.”
    He gave her a halfhearted smile as he
took the bill from her. “Thanks. You look great.”
    The aide wheeled in a chair. “Here you
go.”
    His chest ached at the thought of his
empty house, and his hands wrapped over the armrests as he sat in
the chair.
    Taylor threw his overnight bag across
her shoulder and followed them to the elevator. “I parked out
front, so let me get the car.”
    They rode down to the lobby in
silence. The elevator doors opened to reveal a middle-aged couple
holding each other and sobbing.
    Taylor stepped out, dropped the bag
and ran to them. They opened their stance and engulfed her in the
hug. Her hand covered her mouth, and she shook her head.
    The Johnsons? Creatures of
CROG , he hoped not. He looked up at the woman pushing the
wheelchair. “I can make it from here.”
    The aide rebuffed him. “But, Mr.
Taylor, we’re supposed to wheel you out.”
    “You’ve done your job. Thank you.” He
gave her his most pressing stare.
    She nodded and after he stood wheeled
the chair away. Still a little unsteady on his feet, he slowly
walked to the group.
    Taylor stepped back from the couple
and slid her arm around his waist. She laid her head on his
chest.
    He covered her crocheted hat with his
hand and whispered, “Rachel?”
    She nodded against him.
    “I’m so sorry. What can I
do?”
    Taylor tilted her head up at him,
“Don’t leave me.”
    He cupped her face. “You got it,
Sweetness.”
    Her body melted into his, and they
stood for a few moments, trying to gather themselves. Maureen and
John hurried in.
    Maureen transformed before his eyes,
and he blinked—twice. The sweet-faced woman took on a look of
determination that startled him and gave him comfort in the same
breath.
    “Taylor, take Gavin home. I have the
guest room set up for him.” Turning her attention to the grieving
couple, she said, “Ruth, have you signed all the paperwork
here?”
    The broken woman nodded.
    He gawked, hardly believing his eyes.
He would’ve never guessed Maureen could’ve been so persuasive,
take-charge. Even if he hadn’t already decided to stay with Taylor,
he didn’t think he would have the guts to go against her maternal
command.
    She braced the broken woman’s
shoulders and stared in her face. “John’s going to drive you home,
and I’ll follow him in our car. I have a meal prepared, so don’t
worry about tonight’s dinner. Is there anything you need? I can
stop at the store on my way.”
    The couple shook their heads and
headed out with John.
    Taylor grabbed his arm and his bag and
walked him to her mini-SUV. She opened the passenger side door and
threw a crap load of stuff from the front seat to the back. He
chuckled. Guess she wasn’t a neat freak, and the gesture made her
seem more like a normal teenager. He climbed in. A music CD
crunched under his foot. He lifted his loafer from the broken
mass.
    Taylor slipped her key in the ignition
and glanced down. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t listen to it
anymore.”
    “Good thing.” He peered at the pieces
as he pulled out his phone and called Rick to reschedule the
jet.
    * * * *
    He lay in his bed in the Smiths’ guest
room. The full moon peeked through the mini-blinds and cast slatted
shadows over the bed. He’d tossed and turned for the last two hours
even though his body should’ve been exhausted. He’d tried breathing
exercises, stretches, a small snack he’d snuck down to the kitchen
for. But nothing worked.
    The door of his room creaked open,
Taylor’s pajama-clad form silhouetted in the frame.
    “Are you awake?” she
whispered.
    “Yeah. Are you?” he whispered
back.
    She snickered quietly and closed the
door. “No. I’m sleepwalking.”
    He laughed.
    “Shh. You’ll wake the neighbors.” The
edge of the bed gave as she sat.
    Staring at her, he was barely able to
make out her face in the dark. Lines of moonlight