On Lone Star Trail

by Amanda Cabot

  “I’m sorry about that,” TJ said as they pulled onto Lone Star Trail. When he ran a hand through his hair, Gillian noticed that the shaggy ends were gone. It appeared TJ had put his time in Dupree to good use.

  “Russ was just being friendly,” TJ said. “He was really impressed that a famous pianist came to Dupree.”

  “Former pianist,” Gillian corrected him. Oddly, it didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected to say that.

  “That must be tough.”

  “It is.” Though she had not wanted to talk to Russ whatever-his-last-name-was, Gillian had no such discomfort with TJ. The pain she’d seen in his eyes and his leaving his chosen career at least temporarily made her think he would understand.

  “I feel rudderless,” she admitted. “I had my life carefully planned, and now there’s nothing. I have no idea what I’ll do next, because the only thing I know is music.”

  Even though Kate had had no difficulty transitioning from a high-powered job in Manhattan to a totally different lifestyle as Greg’s wife and the owner of a resort, Gillian could not imagine doing anything similar. There was no one like Greg in her life to make such a dramatic change seem appealing.

  TJ stroked his chin, leaving Gillian to wonder if he missed having a beard. “Have you thought about teaching? I’m not talking about a public school. You’d need certification for that, but what about private lessons? I imagine parents would pay well to have someone with your credentials teaching their kids.”

  Gillian shook her head. Her manager had suggested the same thing shortly before they parted company. She had refused then, and she was refusing now. “That’s not for me.”

  Gillian wouldn’t insult TJ by telling him her father would be horrified if she even entertained the idea. Admittedly, that was part of the reason she hadn’t considered teaching, but it was only part. The primary reason was that she doubted she could establish the rapport with her pupils that would be needed to succeed. TJ seemed to have an instinctive bond with teens, while Gillian was ill at ease with children of any age, perhaps because she’d had so little experience with them. Though she had a nephew, Gabriel was twenty-four, only five years her junior.

  “I’m not good with kids,” she told TJ.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You held your own with those girls last night.”

  “But I felt uncomfortable every second we were there.”

  His skepticism obvious, TJ shook his head. “Then you ought to consider a career in acting. You didn’t look uncomfortable.”

  “Well, I was. Teaching’s not for me. The problem is, I don’t know what I’m going to do next,” Gillian said, hating the way her voice threatened to quaver. “What I do know is that I need a clean break. Music is my past.”

  TJ’s lips thinned, and he stared out the windshield, his expression inscrutable. “I hear what you’re saying, and I understand why you feel that way. I know you don’t want advice—I didn’t either—but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t outrun your past.”

  TJ hated the way Gillian’s face fell. It might have been kinder to say nothing, and yet he’d felt compelled to share the little he’d learned with her. When he’d embarked on what was beginning to feel like an odyssey, he’d believed it was what he needed to close a chapter of his life. At the time it had seemed like the right—perhaps the only—thing to do.

  There’d been no deathbed promises, no tearful moments talking about Deb’s still incomplete bucket list. Instead, during those final months they’d spoken of the places they’d seen, the adventures they’d had. It had seemed cruel to talk about a future here on Earth when Deb had none, and so TJ had kept them focused on the past.

  Was that a mistake? Was he wrong in believing that finishing Deb’s bucket list would bring him closure? TJ didn’t know. All he knew was that the past still dominated his thoughts, and he had no idea what he would do once he checked off the final park.

  A year ago he had thought that by now the future would be clear, but it was still as opaque as the Yellowstone mud pots that had fascinated Deb. TJ could only hope—he’d long since stopped praying—that Gillian would be more fortunate.

  “I’d like to help you,” he told her, “but one other thing I’ve learned is that you need to find your own answers.” If only he could find his.

  “That’s all right. As you guessed, I’ve gotten my share of advice and don’t really want any more.” Gillian paused for a second, apparently concentrating on the road, before she said, “There is one thing you can do for me, though.”

  TJ looked at her, surprised there was anything he could do for her. “What’s that?”

  “Satisfy my curiosity. What does ‘TJ’ stand for?”

  He laughed, remembering the number of times students had asked that. He’d always refused to answer, knowing how kids liked to ridicule names, but there was no reason not to tell Gillian.

  “What do you think?”

  “Thomas Jefferson.”

  TJ shook his head. “Not hardly.”

  “Timothy James.”

  “Nope.” When she’d guessed three more names, all infinitely preferable to the one his parents had chosen, TJ took pity on her. “All right. I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to tell anyone, especially not the kids in Firefly Valley.”

  Gillian nodded her agreement. “You make it sound like it’s something awful.”

  “Trust me. It is. How would you like to go through life saddled with Tobias Jeremiah?”

  “Tobias Jeremiah.” She rolled the name on her tongue. “I like it. You can tell your parents they chose well.”

  TJ shook his head. “That’s no longer possible. My parents died ten years ago.”

  Gillian’s eyes misted. “I’m sorry. Was it an accident?”

  “Nope. One of those deadly viruses that are all too common in Africa. My parents went there as missionaries and never came back.”

  “That’s awful.”

  It was, although nowhere nearly as awful as Deb’s death had been. But TJ wouldn’t talk about Deb. Trying to deflect attention from himself, he asked, “Are your parents both alive?”

  Gillian shook her head. “My mother died when I was born.”

  TJ’s surprise must have been evident, because Gillian continued. “Women dying in childbirth was supposed to have ended in the nineteenth century, but it seems no one told my mother or her doctor. They knew she was at higher risk just because of her age—I was a surprise baby—but no one expected that the delivery would have so many complications.”

  “Now I’m the one to say I’m sorry. Did your dad remarry?”

  She shook her head again. “No. He’s a one-woman man.”

  Like TJ.

  9

  When they reached Rainbow’s End, as Gillian headed to her cabin, Eric St. George emerged from the building that served as the resort’s garage and his workshop.

  “We need to talk,” the heavyset man with hair more gray than blond said as he ushered TJ inside.

  Though Eric’s tone of voice and his expression indicated that whatever he was going to say wasn’t good news, TJ took a quick breath and smiled at the sight of his bike. There was nothing wrong here. In fact, everything was right. The crumpled fender and slashed tire were gone, and a closer inspection revealed that the repairs were invisible. If he hadn’t known better, TJ would have said there’d been no accident.

  “Wow! I heard you were good, but this is more than good. It’s great.”

  “Thanks.” Despite the compliment, Eric still looked uncomfortable. “I’ve had a fair amount of experience with body work, but engines are my real specialty.” He pointed at TJ’s bike. “That’s why we need to talk. I didn’t like the way yours sounded, so I took it apart. Someone did a lot of customization.”

  TJ nodded. “The last owner liked to tinker.”

 
“I could tell.” Eric patted the engine. “The problem is your crankshaft. It’s more worn than I would have expected for the mileage. It could last another year, but it’s just as likely to break in the next month or so. I don’t have to tell you what that would mean if you were somewhere remote.” Meeting TJ’s gaze, Eric said, “The decision is yours, but I recommend you replace it.”

  No wonder Eric had seemed ill at ease. This was just what TJ didn’t need: another major expense. “How much will that cost?” When Eric quoted a figure that seemed ridiculously low, TJ nodded. He could afford that, but he couldn’t afford a breakdown in the middle of nowhere. “How long will it take?”

  Eric frowned. “The installation is less than a day. The problem is getting the part. I called local suppliers, and no one’s got one. I figure it’ll be about a week. Is that okay?”

  Two days ago, TJ would have shaken his head in frustration, but two days ago he hadn’t known how intriguing Rainbow’s End and a certain auburn-haired woman would be. Though he harbored no illusions that either one would be a permanent part of his life, he couldn’t deny that the last twenty-four hours had been the most memorable since he’d begun his vagabond existence.

  If he’d been allowed a redo, he certainly wouldn’t have crashed his bike, but he had to admit that being at Rainbow’s End had shifted his perspective, if only slightly. The location was one of the prettiest he’d seen. It wasn’t spectacular like Yosemite or the Grand Canyon, and yet in its own quiet way, it touched him as much as they had.

  As for Gillian, something about her piqued his interest. It wasn’t a romantic interest. Far from it. When he’d lost Deb, TJ had known that his days of love and happily-ever-after were ended. TJ had had one chance, and he’d lost it. But he found himself thinking of Gillian more than he had any other woman besides Deb and wondering if they could be friends, at least for however long they were both at Rainbow’s End.

  Perhaps it was because she too had lost something important and was searching for her future. Perhaps it was because, although she projected a cool self-confidence, he’d seen the vulnerability beneath the outer shell. Perhaps it was simply that she had been his Good Samaritan. TJ didn’t know the reason, but he did know that it would be no hardship to remain here.

  He turned back to Eric and nodded. “The delay’s okay.”

  “You look like a lady of leisure.”

  Startled by the sound of TJ’s voice, Gillian let out a small gasp. She’d been sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in front of the lodge, staring at the lake ever since she finished reading Janice Thompson’s latest book. Her favorite author never failed to deliver a heartwarming story with more than one LOL moment, but today Gillian found herself wondering whether she’d ever find a happily-ever-after like Janice’s characters. Though they might be confused at the beginning of the book, by the end, they’d found their direction in life, not to mention the perfect husband.

  If only real life were as neat. All Gillian was looking for was a direction, but as it was, she felt as if her life had unraveled. Still, there was no reason to bore TJ with her problems. Gillian forced a light tone to her voice. “Is that a fancy way of saying I look lazy?”

  TJ shook his head. Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, he was the picture of relaxation, and yet there was nothing relaxed about his gaze. He appeared to be studying her, almost as if she were some kind of specimen. Did he think former concert pianists were an exotic species? Gillian could assure him that they were not.

  “Lazy is the way you’re supposed to feel on vacation,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t know about that. Vacations were never a big part of my life.” Maybe that was the reason she had these moments of melancholy. Maybe she hadn’t known what to expect.

  This was Gillian’s fourth day at Rainbow’s End, and life had already settled into a pattern. After breakfast, she occupied herself with either a walk around the resort or an hour or so of reading while Kate handled the day’s business. Most of the day was spent with Kate, but after supper Gillian accompanied TJ to Firefly Valley.

  It was pleasant, and yet she felt an emptiness inside her that nothing seemed to fill. In the past, there’d always been a piece to practice, new music to consider adding to her repertoire, the next season’s schedule to arrange. Even after the accident, her days had been full, with physical therapy replacing the hours she used to spend at the piano. Now there was a void.

  TJ settled into the chair next to her and fixed his gaze on her. “That’s a shame.” For a second, she feared he had read her thoughts, but then she realized that he was speaking of vacations.

  “There’s nothing like heading out and not knowing exactly where you’re going,” he told her, his lips curving upward as if he were remembering a particularly pleasant excursion.

  As a mockingbird flitted by, landing on one of the live oak trees, Gillian clenched and unclenched her hands, stopping only when she realized she no longer had a reason to keep her fingers limber.

  “I can’t imagine doing that.” There’d been no spontaneity in her travels, only careful scheduling. Even her childhood trips with Kate’s family had been planned. No spur-of-the-moment drives, no impromptu picnics. And once Gillian had won the Brooks, the planning had intensified. Nothing could be left to chance.

  But the difference between her experiences and TJ’s was more than a matter of planning. While Gillian had seen big cities, hotel rooms, and concert halls, TJ had explored small towns, national parks, and natural beauty. If something caught his fancy and he wanted to stay an extra day, he did. Gillian knew that from the tales he recounted around the campfire.

  “You ought to try it. You never can tell what you might find at the end of the road.”

  The image of herself riding into the sunset with the man of her dreams—a man who looked a bit like TJ—was so appealing that Gillian caught her breath. She turned to TJ, a question in her eyes.

  “As soon as my bike is fixed, I’ll take you for a ride.”

  The bubble burst. “No.” The word came out more forcefully than Gillian had planned, so she tempered it with a “thank you.”

  “Why not? Are you afraid of getting lost?”

  “It’s not that. I just don’t ride motorcycles.” She never had, and after her one experience with a bike, she knew she never would.

  TJ seemed undaunted by her lack of enthusiasm. He leaned forward, his eyes shining with anticipation. “There’s always a first time.”

  “Not for me.” Gillian needed to change the subject. Though Kate and Sally knew the details of the accident, Gillian’s manager had insisted the press release say only that Gillian Hodge had sustained an injury to her right hand. At the time, she hadn’t worried about his motivation, and now it hardly mattered. She wasn’t going to tell a man whose life centered on his motorcycle that one had destroyed her career. Instead, she said, “Speaking of motorcycles, how’s yours coming?”

  TJ flashed her a mischievous grin. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  Rainbow’s End without TJ. The thought was oddly disturbing. “Why would I do that? If you left, I’d have to go to Firefly Valley alone, and that would be a disaster. My stories can’t compare to yours.” Each night seemed easier, but Gillian knew she’d never have the easy rapport with the teens that TJ did.

  “You underestimate yourself. I know you said you weren’t good with kids, but that’s not what I see. The way that group of girls was hanging around you last night, I’d have thought you were Scheherazade. What kind of tales were you telling them?”

  Gillian smiled at the memory. “Don’t laugh, but it was a dissertation on the fine art of applying blusher and eye shadow.” When the girls had learned she had had professional makeup for some performances, they’d been fascinated and had asked her to share the techniques she’d learned.

  To his credit, TJ did not laugh, although the corners of his mouth twitched
upward. “Figures.”

  “What do you mean?” Did he think makeup was the only topic she could discuss?

  “No need to be defensive. Boys want to hear about adventures because they’re trying to appear brave. Girls want to be beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  As a gust of wind sent ripples across the lake and threatened to knock Gillian’s hat off, she tightened the cord. “I feel sorry for the girls, especially Brianna.”

  “The brunette who dresses like a hooker?”

  Gillian winced. “Unfortunately, that’s an accurate description.” Even by current standards, Brianna’s clothes were extreme. Extremely short, extremely tight, extremely revealing. “She’s being raised by a single mom who works at night. As far as I can tell, the mom isn’t much of a role model.”

  Brianna had confided that she’d never met her father and that her mother dropped out of high school when she became pregnant. Though Gillian’s parents had married fairly young so that Dad would be exempt from the Vietnam-era draft, by all accounts, they’d had a happy marriage, and George claimed they were good parents.

  “Unfortunately, that’s an all too common story.” TJ stared at the lake for a few seconds. “What surprises me about Brianna is that she hangs out with Todd. They’re one of the oddest couples I’ve seen, and believe me, I’ve seen my share of odd couples.”

  Gillian had to agree. There’d been girls like Brianna and boys like Todd at her school, but they’d tended to ignore each other. “I can’t figure it out other than that Brianna’s brighter than she wants people to believe. Maybe Todd sees that, or maybe he’s just happy that a pretty girl is interested in him.”

  Shifting his weight, TJ leaned toward Gillian. “I’ve taught teenagers for almost a decade, and I still don’t understand what makes them tick.”

  Though she didn’t understand the reason, because at least from her perspective the man was brilliant with the Firefly Valley teens, Gillian heard a note of insecurity in TJ’s voice and decided to combat it. “Now you’re the one who’s selling yourself short. The kids love your stories. You’re reaching them, TJ. I know you are.”