Page 29 of Oz Wisdom

“How dare you!”

He had no doubt the distress Tenley screeched out in her scolding was well rehearsed for any such occasion. “The knife stings a little. Doesn’t it?”

“SEE HERE,” Mr. Arison bellowed, although he dared not budge from his spot next to the door.

“I see you’re afraid of the truth. But your own flesh and blood was unable to hide from the truth of the things she was forced to endure, while all that time no one lifted a finger to locate her.” Oz lifted her bags as he told them, “Taylor’s a survivor. You did nothing. You didn’t listen to her. You didn’t trust her judgement. You didn’t care. And you didn’t miss her.” He turned from Tenley then and stared deep into her father’s eyes. He blamed that man for enabling the entire fiasco to be possible. “So, thanks for the life lesson.”

“Daddy, do something.”

Oz walked away and back into the present as his headlight passed through the windows of his home after he turned from the road. He silenced the engine and dropped the kickstand. The yellow curtain glowing in the glass of the kitchen door had never looked so inviting. He had fought thoughts of Taylor all day as he stayed away, giving her time to settle in. After the horrid family reunion and the quick drive home, he felt she needed a bit of time to herself. He wanted to help, not hover.

He sucked in a breath, blowing it out slowly. The drive home. It had been a rush. Most of the drive, Taylor's silence shouted questions. Questions he was asking himself, too. What now? It was time to figure that out. He stood and headed inside.

He pushed open the door and paused. Something smelled good. The tiny table in the corner of the room resembled something from a magazine. Dishes set for two. Glasses waiting to be filled. And the food looked delicious. Nice. Or was this a new problem to handle? One he set into motion at the hotel?

"Welcome home,” Taylor greeted from the doorway to the living room.

"You've been busy."

"I didn't think you'd mind. It's tough to sit still all day. I settled into the guestroom. Thought I'd tidy up a bit for you, but I think your place is spotless.”

"Can't stand clutter,” he told her. "To many other things to do than spend time cleaning.”

"I showered and borrowed a shirt from your closet. Hope you don't mind.”

Of course he didn't mind. She could have anything of his she wanted. And he had noticed his shirt the moment she appeared. Bare feet. Her hair twisted on top of her head. Yeah, he had noticed. He could easily come home to this every day. "Of course, I don't mind." He forced his gaze up to meet her eyes with a smile.

"Hungry?"

Oz nodded. "It smells amazing."

"I hope you like it. It's been a while since I've been in a real kitchen.”

“The table looks wonderful and no doubt the food is just as delightful.”

Taylor padded toward the oven. “I hope so.” She uncovered a dish sitting on top and lifted it, carrying it to the table.

“I’ll wash up and be ready to dig in,” Oz told her.

Taylor smiled and began to fill the plates as he walked out.

He made quick work of scrubbing away the road grime from his hands, arms, and face, then returned to the kitchen. His heartbeat crept up into his throat.

Returning home to find Taylor in his shirt was nothing compared to this. Homemaker Taylor enticed him more than he thought possible. She stood next to a welcoming table with confidence and ease. Nothing fancy. Just a casserole dish with place settings for two. “Ready?”

Taylor twisted toward Oz. “All set.”

She settled into her seat and Oz slid into the chair across from her. He dug his fork into the meal. This looked tasty. He chewed. Once. Twice. He dared a glance toward Taylor and forced it down.

“What is this?” he asked, stabbing his fork into the food again.

“It’s a casserole dish that I tried to recreate from memory.” She attempted a smile that Oz thought appeared strained. “I must have misremembered something,” she whispered.

Oz grinned and forced down another bite.

Taylor leaned back and her hands fell into her lap. “You don’t have to eat it. I know how it tastes.”

Oz chuckled. “Do you cook?”

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