On Lone Star Trail

by Amanda Cabot

  “That I deserve better than someone who’d dump me and I need to move on.” The advice was sound and was in fact what TJ would have suggested, but he knew it wasn’t what Todd wanted to hear. “That’s easy for him to say.” Todd scuffed the floor with his boot. “He doesn’t know how I feel. My mom wouldn’t be any help, ’cuz she’s a girl, but you understand.”

  When TJ raised an eyebrow, startled by Todd’s assertion, the teen continued. “I know you understand. You have to, ’cuz you’re in the same situation. The girl you love is dating another guy.”

  “I don’t . . .” TJ broke off the sentence. Though he’d started to deny that he loved Gillian, he couldn’t, not without lying to both himself and Todd. The truth was, he did love her. He’d been brushing the memories of the kiss and the feelings they’d uncovered aside, trying to tell himself what he felt was nothing more than caring, one step above friendship but a mile away from love. He’d been deluding himself. Just as Gillian’s discussion of anger had forced TJ to examine his behavior and ask for God’s forgiveness, Todd’s simple statement had forced him to accept the truth about her. He loved Gillian. It might not be the same kind of love he’d felt for Deb, but that didn’t make it any less real.

  TJ gripped the edge of the desk as he tried to make sense of his feelings. Though he knew many widowed and divorced men found a second chance at love, he hadn’t expected that to happen to him. He’d believed he was like Gillian’s father—a one-woman man. How wrong could a man be? He loved Gillian, loved her deeply. The reason it had taken him so long to admit it was that he’d believed he was betraying his love for Deb. Now he realized that his love for Gillian wasn’t wrong, even though it was very different from what he’d shared with Deb.

  TJ had heard one of the seniors talking about her second husband, claiming one had been like silver, the other like gold. At the time, he’d paid little attention, but now he realized how poor the analogy was. Silver had less value than gold. Surely the woman didn’t mean that one husband was less loved than the other. In thinking about Deb and Gillian, TJ decided it was more accurate to say that one was like a peony, the other a lilac. They were two very different women, but each was special in her own way.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. B? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  TJ shook his head. “It’s more like I saw the light,” he told the boy.

  “Does that mean you know what I should do to get Brianna back?”

  Once again TJ shook his head. Though he hated to disappoint Todd, he was the last person to be giving advice to the lovelorn. “I’d like to tell you I had a better answer than your dad did, but I don’t.” TJ slid his feet to the floor and clapped Todd on the shoulder. “I guess we both have to wait and see how this turns out.”

  Gillian tipped her head to one side, holding the position as she tried to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. Though it was only mid-afternoon, she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well for the last few nights, ever since the kiss that she still had not been able to put out of her mind. The exhilaration she’d felt the first morning had faded. Now she was torn between wanting to talk to TJ about not just the kiss but everything they’d shared that night and fearing what he might say.

  Frowning, Gillian repeated the neck stretch on the other side. As it turned out, she’d had no opportunity to speak with TJ. He’d missed supper Saturday night and had excused himself as soon as he’d eaten the last bite of dessert on Sunday. The message was clear: he didn’t want to talk, at least not to Gillian. He’d seemed preoccupied, and while he hadn’t ignored Gillian, he hadn’t confided in her. That was what had kept her tossing and turning for most of the night.

  She didn’t understand what had changed. It was one thing for TJ to say the kiss had been a mistake. Though she didn’t agree with him, Gillian understood why he hadn’t wanted her to believe they had any future together. No matter how she felt, TJ was like her dad and could give his heart to only one woman. But that didn’t explain why he’d backed away from her. Gillian had thought they were friends—good friends.

  She straightened her neck, then curled it forward, thankful for the momentary lull between customers. When she’d wakened feeling as if she’d had no more than two hours of sleep, she’d promised herself a nap this afternoon. Unfortunately, that plan had failed when the woman who was supposed to work from two until closing called in sick.

  Unwilling to close the store, especially since Mondays were one of the busiest days, Gillian had agreed to stay until Marisa could wrap up things at Rainbow’s End and relieve her. In the meantime, she kept a smile on her face as she helped customers find everything from cookbooks to the latest bestsellers.

  The store phone rang, interrupting Gillian’s yoga-inspired exercises.

  “I’m on my way,” Marisa said. “I can’t thank you enough for staying.”

  “It’s what friends do.” As she hung up the phone, Gillian nodded. Marisa had become a friend, as had Lauren. Perhaps that was the reason she felt so comfortable in Dupree: she had friends who liked her for who she was, not because she’d once graced a concert stage.

  The pace was slower here than in the big cities, and while that sometimes frustrated her, Gillian had to admit that for the most part she enjoyed it. And though the grapevine occasionally felt intrusive, the overall friendliness of the townspeople warmed her heart more than she’d thought possible. No doubt about it, life in Dupree was good.

  Taking advantage of the continuing lull, Gillian pulled out her cell phone. No missed calls or voice mail messages, but the email icon told her she had at least one note. Curious, she opened the app and was surprised to see a message from her father with the subject line “good work.”

  The rush of pleasure surging through her overcame her fatigue, and she smiled. This was truly a case of better late than never. It might have taken him awhile, but Dad was finally acknowledging her work on the senior center, and that was sweet. So sweet.

  Gillian opened the note, her pleasure evaporating as she read, “Saw the news. Good work, Gillian. Mike Tarkett is the kind of man you ought to marry.” Disappointment mingled with anger, and anger won, shocking her with its intensity. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted her father’s approval of the center or how delusional she’d been trying to convince herself that his silence was nothing more than his unwillingness to express his thoughts any way but verbally. But here was the proof. What Dad approved of was Gillian’s appearance on the arm of an eligible bachelor, not the effort she had put into the center.

  “Do you have a copy of . . .”

  Once more TJ had startled her with his almost silent approach. Gillian looked up. Just minutes earlier she’d wanted to talk to him, hoping they could renew their friendship, but right now she was not fit company for anyone.

  She tried to feign a polite smile but obviously failed, for TJ’s smile faded.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming closer to the counter. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but your face is almost as red as your hair.”

  Gillian nodded, not surprised by his observation. Her fair skin had always betrayed her emotions, particularly anger.

  “I know he loves me,” she said, hearing the resignation in her voice. “I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does.”

  “Something your father did.”

  Gillian shook her head. “More like what he didn’t do. He didn’t comment on all we accomplished with the center, but one picture of me with a man he considers appropriate son-in-law material and he sends me an email with the subject line ‘good work.’ He’s acting like I was on a campaign to snag a husband. I wasn’t doing that, TJ. I wasn’t.” Gillian hated the way her voice broke, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  “I know.” To Gillian’s surprise, TJ looked as if the thought of her hunting for a husband bothered him. Silently he reached for her hand and led her to one of the comfortable ch
airs the store offered to customers. When she was seated, he took the chair next to her. “It’s only natural to want your parents’ approval. I know I did.”

  Though he’d dropped her hand, TJ was looking at her the way he had Friday night, as if she was more—much more—than a casual acquaintance. The thought helped quell the anger that had caused her stomach to clench and her throat to constrict.

  “I wish I could take away the hurt,” TJ continued, “but I can’t do that. Only you can let it go.” He leaned over and captured her hand again, cradling it between both of his. “I apologize if I sound like the RV Reverend now, but there’s a verse in Galatians that talks about needing to please God, not men. There are times when we can please both, but I don’t have to tell you which is more important.”

  Gillian thought for a moment, reviewing the Bible verses she had memorized over the years. “Galatians 1:10. I know the verse.”

  She remembered being in college and having the minister challenge each member of his congregation to answer the question of whether their chosen careers would honor God. At the time, Gillian had believed hers would, but now she wasn’t certain. Perhaps she had been so caught up in pleasing her father that she had lost sight of God’s will.

  “I thought I was doing that. Now I don’t know. It shouldn’t be, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”

  “Of course it is.” TJ gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s especially difficult where parents are concerned. We’re taught to honor them, but there are times we need to step back and realize they’re not perfect.”

  Gillian knew that. She’d believed she’d long since accepted both her and her father’s imperfections, but today she felt as if she’d been ambushed. Perhaps it was merely because she was so tired that Dad’s note bothered her so much. Perhaps it was because his reaction had been so different from Cal and Stacy’s. Or perhaps it was simply because the center was the first thing that had fired her imagination since the accident and she wanted him to share her excitement. Gillian wasn’t certain why it had happened, but she knew she’d overreacted.

  “How’d you get to be so wise?” she asked TJ.

  “Me wise? You’re the one who set me on the right path. Thanks to you, I’m mending my relationship with God.”

  Nothing he could have said would have pleased her more.

  37

  The phone woke Gillian from the first deep sleep she’d had in days.

  “Hello?” She switched on the light as she picked up the receiver, frowning at the red numbers on the alarm clock. Three a.m. was no time for a call. “Who’s this?”

  “Kate Vange. Best friend and expectant mother.” Kate’s voice held a note of amusement as well as something else, something Gillian couldn’t identify. “Remember when I told you Junior was anxious to be born?” Gillian nodded, recalling the conversation they’d had only yesterday. “It seems I was right. I’m in labor.”

  The last vestiges of sleep fled from Gillian’s brain as she realized the element she could not identify in Kate’s voice was strain. “Labor? Really?” The fear Gillian had tried to control flooded through her. “You’re not due for another month.”

  History wouldn’t repeat itself, she told herself firmly. Kate and her baby would be fine.

  Oblivious to Gillian’s distress, Kate chuckled. “Junior didn’t get the message. Greg and I are on our way to the hospital now. If the doctor agrees that it’s not false labor, would you bring Sally? Roy left last night for a golf tournament in El Paso.”

  When Kate finished giving her directions, she said, “I’ll call you in an hour or so. Ooh! Here it comes. Sorry.”

  Gillian heard Kate’s intake of breath as another contraction hit her. “Call me later,” she said and hung up the phone. There’d be no more sleep for any of them tonight.

  Two hours later, Gillian was headed toward San Antonio with Sally in the passenger seat. Though otherwise she appeared relaxed, Gillian noticed that Sally gripped the armrest.

  “I’m glad you’re driving,” she said as Gillian swung onto the freeway. “City traffic and I don’t get along.” And there was the fact that Sally hadn’t driven in over a year. Gillian hoped that was the reason for Sally’s tension and that she wasn’t remembering another premature birth and its tragic ending.

  Gillian merged into the surprisingly heavy stream of cars and nodded. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. It’s not every day I get to watch you become a great-grandmother.”

  Keeping her eyes moving from the windshield to the rearview and side mirrors and back again, Gillian forced herself to smile. She would do nothing to upset the woman who’d been the closest thing to a mother she’d known. “It’s still hard for me to realize Kate’s about to be a mother.”

  “She’ll be a good one. She and Greg are meant to be parents.”

  “But it’ll be a big change.”

  Sally nodded. “Another one. I can hardly believe how much our lives have changed in the last year.”

  Most of those changes had been happy ones, with Gillian’s accident being the notable exception. “At least you and Kate are settled. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do next.”

  “Besides marry a minister?”

  After a tractor trailer merged into traffic ahead of Gillian, she glanced at her passenger. “I wasn’t joking, Sally. I believe God has something good in mind for me, but I haven’t been able to figure out what it is.” Dad was sure that marriage was the answer, but though Gillian wouldn’t discount the possibility, she believed it was only a part of the plan.

  “Have you considered that could be your problem?” The traces of mirth had left Sally’s voice. “You think you should do all the work. Why not try the LGLG method?”

  Gillian tightened her grip on the steering wheel as traffic increased and cars whizzed by her on both sides. “LGLG? What’s that?”

  “Let go and let God. Surely you’ve heard of that.”

  “I know the phrase but not the acronym.” What Sally said was a variation on TJ’s advice from yesterday. Surrender. Accept God’s will. Seek only his approval. Gillian knew it was good advice, but while the concepts sounded easy, applying them wasn’t. She knew because she’d tried. Though she’d told herself that was what she wanted to do, Gillian had discovered a barrier between her thoughts and her deeds. And a moving car in rush traffic was hardly the place to try again.

  Half an hour later they reached the hospital and found Kate still in labor. Though she smiled to reassure Gillian and Sally, Kate’s face left no doubt of the strain she’d been under, and Gillian said a silent prayer for both Kate and her baby.

  “The doc tells me it’s going to be a few more hours,” Kate said with an exaggerated frown. “Junior’s not in as much of a rush as I thought.” She pointed at her husband, who looked even worse than she did, perhaps because he could do nothing more than coach Kate. “Greg has to stay here. That’s part of our deal, but you two can relax. The coffee shop is very nice,” she told Sally, turning her attention to Gillian as she said, “So is the chapel.”

  “Have you been talking to Sally?” Gillian demanded when Sally reluctantly agreed she could use a cup of coffee.

  “Nope. I just looked at your face. You look like you could use some quiet time. I spent my share of time in the chapel last year and can vouch that it’s a special place.”

  And so Gillian found herself in the hospital chapel. It was a simple room, as quiet as Kate had promised. Though it could accommodate thirty or forty people, Gillian was the only one there. If she was going to LGLG, this might be the right place.

  She knelt, folded her hands, and bowed her head, not sure where to start. She needed words, but none were forthcoming. Instead Gillian pictured the first painting she had seen of Jesus, one that had hung in the Sunday school she’d attended as a child. Even then she had known there was something special about
that painting.

  Jesus’s eyes had seemed to be looking directly at her, and though she now knew they were nothing more than an artist’s representation, created with a dab of oil paint and a brush, at the time she’d felt as if the love she’d seen in those eyes was able to touch her. Jesus didn’t need a halo to tell viewers he was holy. He possessed infinite love, infinite power, infinite wisdom, and all of them shone from the painting.

  Her father loved her. Like Jesus, he wanted only the best for her. Had her mother lived, she would have lavished love on Gillian. But their love, as strong as it was, could not compare to the love of her heavenly father. His was the only love that knew no boundaries.

  Gillian nodded slowly. God would lead her. He might have closed a door, but he would show her the way to the open window, if only she would let him. She rose and unfolded her hands. Facing the stained glass window, she slowly extended her hands, turning them so her empty palms faced upward.

  “I have nothing to offer,” she said softly, “but I put my life in your hands. Lead me, Lord.”

  There was no answer, and yet as she stood there, Gillian felt the tension drain from her, and in its place, she found peace.

  “Thank you, Lord.”

  38

  If you’re looking for Gillian, she’s at the hospital.”

  Fear sliced through TJ, destroying both his appetite and the anticipation he’d felt about spending the evening with Gillian. He’d missed her at breakfast but hadn’t worried, because her schedule had been erratic recently. When a faculty meeting had kept him later than usual, he’d been annoyed but had told himself it was only a couple hours before supper. He’d see Gillian then. Or so he’d thought, until Kevin, one of the teenage waitstaff, had turned anticipation into dread.

  TJ tried not to shudder at the thought of Gillian in a hospital. Though Kevin sounded almost nonchalant, TJ associated hospitals with suffering and death.