Song of Solomon (3 page)

“Well, I'm glad you didn't have any either. That was God's doing,” Margaret prophesied. “But Dr. Taylor, you're a natural with the kids in this school. For some of them, you're probably the only positive male role model they have in their little lives. Besides, children
are
a blessing from the Lord, and every good man deserves the opportunity to be a father. The Lord in heaven knows we have enough sorry jokers who are running the fields, planting seeds that they don't even stick around to see grow. So men like you—”

“Men like me will be just fine, Ms. Dasher,” Neil interjected. “I'm not saying I won't have kids; I'm just saying that it's not a priority with me, just like a second walk down the aisle isn't a priority. I can take it or leave it. I like my life.”

“How long has it been since you've been on a date?”

“Counting the unforgettable one you set me up on?” Neil grinned at his own facetious remark while he fished in his pocket for a peppermint. He always kept a few on hand. It was a habit he'd picked up as a teenager, after years of seeing his now deceased father nurse on the candies religiously.

“No, I mean a
real
date,” Margaret clarified, tossing him a don't-get-smart-with-me look. “I'm talking about an evening out with a special woman that you really cared for. A woman that you saw as having the potential to become the next Mrs. Neil Taylor.”

“I'd have to give you two different answers in order to accurately address both those statements.” Neil stepped back into his office space with Margaret following close behind. Placing the folder in the middle of an already cluttered desk, he turned to face her, leaning back and using his desk for support. “The last time I went on a date with a woman that I really cared for was about two, maybe even three years ago. And I can't say that I've ever been on a date with a woman that I would classify as a potential wife other than when I dated Audrey . . . and a lot of good that did me.”

Removing her reading glasses from her bulging eyes, Margaret's jaw dropped. “You've
never
—not even once—been on a date with a woman you'd consider marrying material since you dated your ex-wife?”

Neil shook his head truthfully. “Never. So maybe now you can understand why I'm content. I mean, if the right woman happens to come along, fine. But if she doesn't, God has given me the wherewithal to be content in whatever state that I'm in. I'm not a man who is in need of the constant company of a woman. Anything a woman can do, I can do just as well. My parents made sure that their children were well-versed on how to do everything for themselves. Thanks to them, I'm just as skillful with domestic work as I am with manual labor.”

“Yeah, well, there's one thing that a woman can do for you that you can't do for yourself
just as well
. You might be saved, and you might be self-sufficient, but you're still a man.”

Chuckling, Neil said, “I knew you'd go there sooner or later.”

“And I'm sure you've got a comeback prepared,” Margaret replied. “But I don't care what you say; you know I'm right.”

“Excuse me.”

The words, accompanied by several knocks on the frame of the door, caused both Neil and Margaret to turn. Standing in the doorway was a child dressed in Kingdom Builders Academy's signature blue-and-grey uniform, and an unidentified woman who nearly made Neil swallow his dissolving breath mint.

His eyes locked onto the attractive, spruce lady, and against his will, they started at the bottom and scanned her petite, yet exceptional form. Her leather pumps bled the same red of her tapered skirt suit. Her legs flaunted sculpted calves. Hair that was braided so neatly that it looked as though it could have been styled just before she arrived at his doorway cascaded past her shoulders. Her skin tone was like Hershey's Kisses....

It was a face that was oddly familiar, and Neil found himself thumbing through his long term memory bank for clues of where their paths had crossed. She was too young to be a former schoolmate, but probably too old to be one of the little ones that his mother used to babysit in their home. He hoped beyond hope that their former meeting—whenever and wherever it was—had been a pleasant one.

Her physical appearance stirred something inside Neil, but the sparkle from an impressive wedding set on her left hand drew an imaginary line that hindered his mind from crossing into impermissible territory.

Margaret was the first to step forward. “Yes, ma'am? May I help you?”

“I hope so. My name is Shaylynn, and this is my son—”

“Chase Ford.” Neil found his voice just in time, and then walked toward Shaylynn with an extended hand. “We know Chase very well. He's a great kid. I believe he's this month's star student in Miss Berkshire's class. You should be very proud, Mrs. Ford.”

“I am. Very much so.” Her beaming smile served as an ‘amen' to her statement.

“I'm Dr. Neil Taylor, the director here at Kingdom Builders Academy.”

“Oh.” Shaylynn's face brightened even more. “I've heard a lot about you from my son, Dr. Taylor. Chase speaks of you often.”

“I told her you give good high fives,” Chase reported, simultaneously raising his palm in the air and gaining the response from his administrator that his gesture requested.

“May we help you with something, Mrs. Ford?” Margaret repeated her earlier inquiry, ending the fleeting horseplay.

“Yes, I hope so. I was wondering if it were possible for me to use the telephone to call for assistance.” Her chocolate cheeks flushed in embarrassment and her eyes darted toward the floor for a moment before she looked at Margaret again. “I carelessly locked my cell phone and other personal belongings in the car with the engine still running, and I need to get the door open as soon as possible.”

“Sure.” Margaret rounded her desk and pulled a large, worn telephone book from her drawer. “We have several locksmiths in the area, but they can charge an arm and a leg just to unlock a door. It's highway robbery, really. It'll probably be better for you to just call your husband and get him to come and bring the spare keys, if you have some.”

“My daddy's in heaven.”

Chase's announcement seemed to freeze both time and everyone who was in the room. In slow motion, Neil turned to look at the women, who were standing near his assistant's desk, and he noted a look of bewilderment on Margaret's face that indicated that she didn't quite understand the child's reply. Neil understood perfectly, but no response seemed appropriate, so he remained quiet.

“My husband is deceased,” Shaylynn clarified, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh. I'm . . . I'm sorry,” Margaret stammered. Her countenance fell like she'd known the woman's husband personally. “Bless your heart, sugar. You poor thing. And left with such a young child, too. Lord have mercy, Jesus.”

The pretty woman lifted her chin. “It's okay,” she assured, all the while appearing as uncomfortable as Neil felt.

“When did it happen? How did he die? Did this happen recently?”

Neil cringed at Margaret's probing questions. They were far too personal to ask a woman they'd met less than five minutes ago. His mind raced for something to say that would end his assistant's interrogation, but Neil could think of nothing.

“It happened some time ago. May I?” Shaylynn reached for the phone book, seeming to want to avoid the current subject matter and get to the business of making her call.

“He must have been very young,” Margaret pressed as though clueless. Neil looked at her, not believing her audacity. When Shaylynn didn't reply, Margaret's comeback was even blunter. “How old was he when he died?”

Finding his voice and making an executive decision to interrupt, Neil said, “You know what? Don't worry about making the call, Ms. Ford.”

“
Mrs.
Ford.” Shaylynn's correction was sharp and abrupt, though her follow-up was less abrasive. “It's Mrs.”

Another awkward moment passed, and in spite of the fact that Neil could make no sense of Shaylynn's statement, he respected her wishes. “I can get the door open for you, Mrs. Ford. I keep a special tool kit in my car, my office, and my house for emergencies like this. It'll only take a few seconds to get the car door open.”

“You don't mind?” Her tone was hesitant, her expression almost childlike.

“Not at all. Why don't you and Chase go out and wait by the car? I don't want it to be left unattended too long with the engine running.” Neil chuckled. “I might not be the only one around here who can open a locked car. You all just go and stand guard. I'll join you in just a second.”

“Thank you, Dr. Taylor. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

With Shaylynn and her son out of listening range, Neil took quick steps into his office and retrieved the tool kit from a place on his shelf. He could hear the click of Margaret's shoes against the tiled floors as she followed him, and from his side vision, Neil could see her standing in his doorway.

“You may want to go ahead and leave before another crisis arises that keeps you here working overtime,” he suggested.

“Did you hear what that child just said?” Margaret asked.

“Who? Chase?”

“No. His mother.”

Neil gave Margaret a cross look, and then closed his office door. The volume of her hearing impairment–induced voice was way too loud for his comfort. Standing with his back leaning against the door and facing her, he said, “Actually, what you were saying out there was far more attention-grabbing than anything Chase's mother could have possibly said. I can't believe you asked that lady all those personal questions.”

In defense of her actions, Margaret replied with, “No question is off limits when she's the one who opened the discussion. If she hadn't said he was dead, I . . . we never would have known it, and I wouldn't have asked any questions. I was just trying to show some concern. What was I supposed to do, just stand there like you did and say nothing? How much sense would that have made?”

“First of all, she didn't volunteer the information of her husband's death,” Neil argued. “Chase did. And you can't possibly expect a kid his age to know any better. It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd stopped after offering your condolences. But asking how, when, and where the man died was just a little too much. You asked his age and everything.”

Margaret smacked her lips in protest. “For your information, I did
not
ask where he died. You're putting words in my mouth. And none of that is the point, anyway, Dr. Taylor.” Margaret rerouted the conversation back to her original point. “Even though her husband is dead, she insisted on being called
Mrs
. Ford.”

“So what?” Neil pretended not to find it peculiar. “Lots of widows still use their married title.”

“I'm a widow. I don't use it.”

“That doesn't mean that a woman who decides to is an oddball.”

Margaret paused like she was thinking it over. “Okay, I can agree with that, I suppose. But she corrected you. She
insisted
. That's what makes it strange. I could kind of see her reasoning if he'd just died last week or last month. Even a few months might be understandable. But she said he died
some time ago
, like it might have happened some years ago. Yet it was like she got offended when you called her Ms. Ford.”

“What can I say, Ms. Dasher? Women are strange creatures sometimes,” Neil said. “Another reason that I'm cool with being by myself.”

Margaret followed again as Neil opened his office door and walked into her workspace on his way to the hall. “You know that you and I are going to finish that whole ‘I'm cool with being by myself' conversation next week, right? Don't think for a minute that I'm letting you off the hook that easily.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Neil said as the two of them stopped briefly in the school's lobby.

The halls were clear now, and through the main glass doors, he caught a glimpse of Shaylynn and Chase standing beside a silver Chrysler that shone like it had just been rolled out of a showroom.
Where do I know her from?
The nagging question almost haunted him as they exited the school building.

“I'll see you at church on Sunday,” Margaret said as she waved at him just before making a beeline to her car, one of a very few that still remained in the faculty lot.

With his eyes locked on his destination, Neil was almost too absorbed to hear his secretary bid farewell. His sights were fixed and his gait was quick. There was a woman that needed to be rescued, and the case in his hand equipped him to do it.

“Thanks again,” Shaylynn said as soon as Neil reached her car. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I don't think I've ever locked myself out of my car before. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“It could happen to any of us,” Neil said. He slipped a pair of sporty sunglasses on his face and pulled an apparatus from the case in preparation to work his magic. “It's easy to get distracted when there are a bunch of children around, I suppose.” Neil purposely looked at her and smiled when he spoke. He wanted Shaylynn to get a good look at him in his Ray Bans. He'd gotten many compliments on how debonair the eyewear made him look. He hoped she approved too.

“I suppose,” Shaylynn agreed.

“Whoaaaa.” Chase stretched out the word. “Cool glasses, Dr. Taylor.”

Not exactly the person he was trying to impress, but Neil appreciated the praise anyway. “Thanks, young man.”