by Cathy Bryant
“There’s more.” Her brother paused, an ominous silence filling the void. “He said he’d hired Andy Tyler for the job.”
Her stomach grew queasy, and her mouth dropped open. Andy? Not noticing the red light until it was too late, she plowed right through the intersection.
Chapter 23
Trish balanced the tray of drinks and soft-stepped toward table five, praying she wouldn’t trip. The lunch shift had been busy, and her tip apron now held a nice bulge.
She passed out drinks to the people at table five and jotted down their food order. As she reached the kitchen door, a loud throat-clearing sounded from the booth to her left. Trish yanked her head in the direction of the noise. How long had she been sitting there?
Carla parked at the table, a scowl embedded on her face. “I’ve been here almost ten minutes, and no one has taken my order.”
“Sorry, I didn’t see you. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have iced tea with two lemons and the blue plate special, cut the salad and add a guacamole.” She barked out her order then tossed the menu. “Bring the blue sweetener. I don’t like the pink stuff.”
Trish quickly scribbled down the order and managed a polite “thank you.”
She returned a few minutes later with Carla’s tea, basket of chips, and ramekin of salsa, trying to disregard the delicious smells swirling around her and setting off a rumble in her belly.
Dani, Steve, Mama Beth, and Dad rounded the corner and seated themselves at a nearby table, their faces registering shock. Trish sucked in a deep breath. Had they forgiven her birthday party outburst? She squelched the animosity she still felt over the relationship between Dad and Mama Beth. Nothing good could come from stewing over it. She was an adult, and it was high time she acted like one.
Trish sidled over to her family. “Hi, y’all.” After their returned greetings, an awkward silence ensued. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Why?” Her father’s voice was gruff.
“Why what?” Trish steeled herself.
“You know what.” His expression held reproach. “We would’ve helped. All you had to do was ask.”
“I’m a grown-up now, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
He started to speak again, but Mama Beth laid a hand on his arm. He met her gaze, then clamped his lips in a taut line.
Mama Beth made direct eye contact, her light blue eyes sincere. “Trish, I know you’re busy, but could we set up some time to talk—just the two of us?”
Trish shifted uncomfortably. “Sure.” Though she hated confrontation, it would be better to clear the air instead of letting frustrations build. “I’ll stop by later this afternoon.”
A soft smile of appreciation curved Mama Beth’s lips. “Thank you, sweetie. I’d like a glass of unsweetened tea, please.”
Trish took their food orders, then made her way to the drink station, her thoughts on Dad’s reaction. Why was he so upset? Surely he favored her taking a job in town as opposed to moving to Austin. Or did he? Trish filled glasses with ice and gave her head an angry shake. Snap out of it, Trish. Prove that you’ve got what it takes.
Surprisingly, she was able to do just that, and responded calmly to Carla a few minutes later when the food wasn’t to her liking. And when her family left the restaurant, she sent them off with a smile. As the clock inched toward two, she breathed easier. Even after a couple of big challenges, her day had gone pretty smoothly.
But when she neared table two, her breath caught in her throat. Andy lounged at the table studying a menu. Was it true that he was going to file suit against her, or was that information just another nugget of geezer gossip? She steadied her nerves and approached his table. “Let me guess, chicken fajitas?”
He looked up, his mouth agape at first, then it widened to an infectious grin. “Good to see you, Trish. For your information, I thought I’d step outside my box today and try the chicken fajita nachos.”
She laughed and wrote down his order. “Bold move.” His friendly response was just the balm her spirit needed. No lectures, no accusations, just the same old Andy. “And to drink?”
“What do you recommend?”
“We make a mean glass of sweet tea.”
“So I’ve heard. Sounds good.”
As she moved to pick up the menu, Andy placed his hand on hers, his sea-green eyes no longer teasing. “Nice to see you smile again, Trish.”
“It feels good from my perspective, too.”
“I’m sure it does. You mind my asking what brought it on?” His eyes held . . . what was it? Hope?
“Well, this job for one, and I have a couple of art lessons this afternoon.”
His face brightened. “Good for you.”
“It was your idea.” She pulled the menu and her hand from beneath his grasp. “I’ll be right back with your tea.”
After she delivered Andy’s tea and helped bus a few tables, she returned to the kitchen to wait for his order. Her cell phone buzzed in her apron, and she checked the digital readout. Not a number she recognized. “Hello?”
“Is this Trish James?”
Please not another bill collector. Didn’t they know she was doing her best? “Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Claire Windsor.” The elegant voice dripped money and culture. “I own an art studio in Dallas and host an art show on the third weekend of every month to highlight Texas artists and their work. Would you be interested in a show in September?”
The room seemed suddenly devoid of air. “You’ve seen my work?”
“Yes. You have talent, Mrs. James. Based on the painting I saw, I think your work will not only sell, but sell well.”
Her pulse careened through her veins, and she brought a hand to her face. “Th-thanks. I’d love the opportunity.”
The woman gave her a website address to check out for the details and promised to stay in touch.
Trish managed a mumbled word of thanks, then clicked the phone shut, her mind reeling. There was so much work to do between now and September. And why had she forgotten to ask where the woman had seen one of her paintings?
“Order up for table two.” Rafael, the middle Soldano son, let his bass voice ring out, then flashed a winning smile the Soldano men were famous for. “You have stars in your eyes, señora.”
She told him her good news as she loaded Andy’s order on a tray.
When she reached the stainless steel swinging doors, Rafael’s hearty congratulations sounded. She swiveled to smile at him, and backed her way out of the kitchen. As she cleared the doors, Trish turned and collided with a broad chest. The lunch platter slid down the man’s suit and landed with a clank on the floor.
Trish backed away, eyeing globs of sour cream, guacamole, and pico de gallo on the man’s shirt and tie. Her foot landed in a pile of something slippery. She tried to keep her balance, but the room shifted as she hurtled toward the floor.
Two strong arms reached out to save her, then pulled her toward a food-splattered chest. The moment passed, and she looked up into familiar green eyes and a dimpled grin. “I know you’re eager to paint, but did you have to start with my suit and what I presume was my lunch?”
* * * * *
God, help me not to say anything I shouldn’t, and help me listen more than I talk. Please give me answers.
Trish stepped from her car into Mama Beth’s gravel driveway and made her way to the picket fence gate. The fragrance of roses wafted from the white rose arbor that framed the cobblestone path.
She repositioned a stray strand of hair, her pulse throbbing in her throat. While she’d never felt fear when it came to Mama Beth, she had a feeling this conversation wouldn’t be easy. She’d always loved the woman and looked up to her, but the relationship between her and Dad made this uncertain ground.
Trish wearily climbed the wooden steps to the wraparound porch and tapped lightly on the screen door.
“Come on in.” Mama Beth squeaked open the door, then re
ached up and hugged her neck.
“I can’t stay long.”
The older woman pulled away and blinked, her blue eyes taking on hurt. “Sorry if I’m keeping you from your time with Bo, but I wanted to explain a few things. I couldn’t stand this distance between us.”
Trish nodded, then lowered her head to stare at her hands. “I apologize for losing my temper at the birthday party. It had been a rough day.”
“You’ve had a lot of rough days here lately. That’s another thing I wanted to talk about.”
She raised her head, her eyebrows on the climb. Was she about to endure another lecture on how to cope with losing a spouse? And from someone who’d never even been married?
“Have a seat.” Mama Beth motioned to the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” Trish moved to the overstuffed couch and sank into it, longing for the world to go away so she could relax and sleep.
The older woman shuffled to the other end and plopped down, her eyebrows crinkled. “I’m not sure how to even begin this story, but I know you’re in a hurry so I’ll just start. You probably know your dad and I graduated together and dated all through high school.”
She nodded. Mom had never let any of them forget it, constantly harping about Mama Beth, her jealousy deep and unforgiving.
“He went off to college while I stayed in Miller’s Creek to work. We weren’t engaged, but there was a promise between us.” Mama Beth’s voice hitched. She paused as her shoulders rose and then settled. “When he came back home with a wife and child, I thought I’d die from the pain. But I didn’t. I got up, put one foot in front of the other like you’re doing now, and made a life. But I never stopped loving him.”
Trish’s heart beat faster, but she didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
“But contrary to what you said the other day, I haven’t been waiting for your mother to die. I gave up hope that I’d ever have a relationship with Bo when he came back to Miller’s Creek with a family.”
A frown wiggled on to Trish’s face. “Why didn’t you ever marry?”
“I never found anyone else I loved.” Her voice decreased to a hurt whisper. “So even though I never lost a husband, I do know a thing or two about loss. I can’t promise your heartbreak will go away, but it does get easier to bear.”
Trish swallowed a wad of grief. At least with Doc, she didn’t have to suffer through knowing he belonged to someone else. “I-I’m sorry. I never knew all the facts. I didn’t mean to be so cruel the other day, but it hasn’t even been a year since . . .”
Mama Beth scooted closer and wrapped her in a hug. “I know, sweetie. Just remember that for your dad, the woman he loved and married died a long time ago.”
True. Alzheimer’s made it that way for all of them. They missed her, but were glad she didn’t have to suffer anymore. “I want Dad to be happy. I really do. And I want that for you, too.” Trish pulled away and used the heels of her hands to swipe at the tears spilling onto her cheeks. She released a frustrated groan. “Sorry I’m crying. I’m so sick of tears.”
“There are plenty of people willing to help, you know.”
Please not again. Trish rose to her feet and drifted to the tall front windows, rubbing her arms. “I’m just trying to cope. I’m not asking for help.’
Mama Beth let out a tired sigh. “I understand. I really do, but make sure your pride isn’t getting in the way.” A long moment of silence passed. “Forgive me if I’m sticking my nose where it’s not wanted, but I’ve seen the way you look at Andy and the way he looks at you. He loves Little Bo as if he were his own son.”
Trish froze, her feet rooted to the floor. How could she have noticed? She licked her lips. “It’s much too soon to even think abou—”
“Not if you love him. Have you stopped to consider that God may have purposely brought Andy into your life for this moment in time?”
Yes, but only as a friend. Right?
“I love you, Trish. I hope you know that.” Mama Beth stood and shuffled over to stand beside her. “But I see you struggling so hard to do things on your own when God may have another plan.”
Trish brought both hands to her cheeks. “There’s just so much to think about. I don’t feel ready to add a relationship to the mix.’
“I’m not trying to rush you. I just want you to consider the options. Remember the story of Joseph?”
She let her hands drop to her sides and faced Mama Beth. “What does that have to do with this?”
“Think about all he suffered. His brothers hated him and sold him into slavery. For thirteen years he endured prison and hardships. Then, when God’s timing was right, he became a leader in Egypt and was responsible for saving many lives.” Growing confidence resonated from her tone and her face glowed. “God doesn’t waste any hurt you endure, Trish. What He allows into your life—even something as painful as Doc’s death—He’ll use for the days ahead. I know it’s hard to see past the pain, but try to view the situation from an eternal perspective. And make sure you don’t miss out on something wonderful because of fear and pride.”
Fire blazed in her veins. Everything she did was for her son. Everything. Now Mama Beth had the nerve to call her proud and afraid? Her fists clenched, then went limp. Mama Beth was right. She was proud and afraid. Was she right about Andy, too?
Chapter 24
Trish hurriedly wiped down tables and chairs at Soldano’s in anticipation of an afternoon with Bo. Between all her jobs, she’d barely had time to breathe, much less spend time with him. She released a tired sigh between her lips. Just another fringe benefit of being a single parent.
At least she had Andy to fall back on. After last night’s ball game, he’d kindly offered to keep Bo today, since the daycare wasn’t open on Saturdays, and since Dad and Mama Beth had plans. Of course, her son had been giddy at the prospect of riding horses and playing catch with Coach Andy.
She counted her tip money. Not as good as last week, but every little bit was appreciated and needed. Worry gnawed at her. She’d heard nothing about any legal action since Steve’s phone call. Apparently Otis had decided to let her overdue payment slide. Maybe he’d just been loose in the lips the day he’d spouted off to her brother. The check she’d mailed yesterday should keep him at bay a while longer.
Heading for the back, she untied her apron strings. Juan caught her as she passed the glass checkout counter, his dark eyes a-twinkle. “You have customers at booth four.”
Trish checked the clock and gulped. Already ten after two. If she made Andy late to an appointment, he’d be furious. She retied her apron and hurried to booth four, her pen and pad in hand. Her mouth fell open.
Bo giggled. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Mom,” reiterated Andy with a catchy laugh.
Her pulse quickened at the sight of his handsome face. Careful, Trish. A smile curved her lips before she could contain it, but she quickly assumed her waitress persona. “What can I get for you two gentlemen?”
Bo chortled at the charade. “We want ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” she asked in mock surprise.
“You heard the man.” Andy laughed again and sent her a wink. “The biggest bowl you can find with lots of hot fudge sauce. Oh, and bring three spoons.”
“One extra-large hot-fudge sundae coming up.” She laid a finger on the tip of her son’s upturned nose.
Andy made a move to stand. “While you get the sundae, I’ll ask Juan to let you clock out. You look bushed.”
Mr. Fix-It to the rescue again, but he’d get no objections today. “That would be awesome. My feet are killing me.”
Minutes later Trish returned with the ice cream and sank into the booth beside Bo. She dipped her spoon into the fudgy, melting ice cream and scooped a bite into her mouth, closing her eyes in rapture. Ice cream, her son, money in her pocket, and a wonderful friend—what more could she ask for? God continued to provide. Now if He could just do it a little faster.
“So
what’s on your agenda this afternoon?” Andy’s friendly question intruded into her thoughts.
She opened her eyes. “Well, first I wanna hug my son. I’ve missed him all day.” Trish reached toward Bo.
He wrapped his arms around her neck and planted a sticky kiss on her cheek.
Her heart melted. “Have you had a good day, sweetie?”
“I had a great day!” Her son resumed his dig into the ice cream sundae.
Like a big overgrown kid, Andy delved in for his own bite. “Okay, you have your hug, now what?”
“There’s a garage sale I want to check out, then I’m headed to the ranch. Bo’s gonna help me organize my studio.”
“Mo-o-om!”
“Mind if I tag along?” Andy’s eyes held tentative hope.
How could she refuse after all he’d done for her and Bo? “Not at all, but I hope you’re not afraid of work.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I were.”
A little later, Trish led the way to the garage sale, while the guys followed in Andy’s car. She pulled up in front of a brick house and parked. Carla and Brody stood at a table full of toys. She breathed a quick prayer that God would guide her words, thoughts, and actions, and climbed from the car.
Andy accompanied Bo to the toy table while she headed to a rack of boys’ clothing. Good. There was still a big selection. Bo would need school clothes in another month or so. She picked out several pairs of shorts and a few shirts, handed the woman a five, and headed over to Andy and Bo.
“I had that first.” Brody’s belligerent voice rose above the soft conversation of other shoppers, and he grabbed for the toy truck tucked in Bo’s arms.
Mother-bear fury raged inside. She quickened her pace. Count, Trish. One, two . . .
Bo glanced up as she approached, his brown eyes full of questions.
Time to set a good example. She smiled at him, then turned her attention to Carla and Brody. “You did a great job at last night’s game, Brody. You’re quite a ball player.”
