A Path Less Traveled

by Cathy Bryant

  Brody’s glare turned to confusion. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, you did super,” added Bo.

  Pride swelled in her heart at her son’s kindness. He’d come so far. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You must be so proud of him, Carla.”

  The woman’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Yeah.”

  Bo handed the truck over. “Here. You can have it.”

  Andy caught her attention. His eyes shone like emeralds, and his lips turned up softly at the corners.

  A burst of emotion threatened to swallow her whole. It wouldn’t do for her to get lost in those eyes of his. She turned back to Carla. “Well, we’d best be going. Brody, if you’d like to play with Bo tomorrow, we could pick you up for church and take you back home tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, we could play video games and catch.” Bo actually sounded excited.

  “Sure, I guess. Would that be okay, Mom?”

  Carla smiled at Trish. “That’d be nice. What time do I need to have him ready?”

  “We’ll be there at 9:30. You’re welcome to come with us.”

  She lowered her head. “Maybe some other time.”

  “The invitation always stands. See you in the morning.” Trish herded Little Bo toward the two cars, Andy in step beside them.

  After he helped Bo into his seat and slammed the door, Andy faced her. “That was pretty awesome to watch.”

  “Thanks.” Heat rose in her cheeks, and a nervous laugh fell from her lips. “Well, I guess we should head on out to the ranch.”

  “See you there.” Andy smiled and trailed fingers down her arm.

  Trish climbed in The Lemon and started the engine, her heart bouncing in her chest. If everything went well with the art classes and show in Dallas, then she could consider the option Mama Beth mentioned.

  * * * * *

  Andy steered into the driveway of Trish’s house right behind her. First, time with Bo, now time with both of them. And if things went according to plan, later he’d have time alone with Trish.

  She climbed from her car and used a hip to shut the door. “Hope you’re ready to work.”

  “It’s what I live for.”

  “What? Work?”

  “No, helping you.”

  “Haven’t we already had this discussion?” Trish’s aggravated tone matched her scowl.

  Andy held up both hands in surrender. “Sorry, my mistake. Now I remember. You don’t like to be helped.” He sent a teasing grin as he sauntered closer.

  Her pursed lips curved upward. “And don’t forget it.” She spoke the threat softly, handed him the garage sale sack, then pivoted toward the house. “You can lay that on the kitchen counter for now. I’ve gotta change clothes.” The soft scent of perfume trailed behind her.

  One minute telling him not to help, the next bossing him around like some domestic diva. He shook his head, peered down at Bo, and let out a chuckle. “Just like a woman. She tells you one thing, then does something completely opposite.”

  Bo’s face took on disgust. “Yeah, I know.”

  Andy’s eyebrows inched up. “You do?”

  “Yep.”

  “Like how?”

  Bo made his way to the door, and Andy followed. “Mary Simpson at school.”

  Girl trouble in Kindergarten? “Who’s Mary Simpson?”

  “This girl.” Bo swung open the door for both of them, then slammed it after Andy passed.

  “Yeah, I gathered that. What about her?”

  “She told me she liked me, then pushed me down in the dirt.”

  Laughter poured from Andy. He plopped the bag on the counter and squatted in front of Bo. “See, I think Mary pushed you down ‘cause she likes you.” He tickled the boy’s ribs.

  Bo didn’t laugh. Instead he pulled away, one corner of his mouth hiked up on his darkened face. “Yuck! I’m staying away from all girls!”

  “Trust me, buddy, you’ll change your mind one of these days.” Andy patted his shoulder and stood. “Speaking of girls, would you mind paying a visit to your Papaw later so I can spend some time alone with your Mom?”

  “You like Mom?”

  Andy grinned. No beating around the bush with this boy. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. Is that okay?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. Does she like you back?”

  Trish’s footsteps sounded down the hall. Andy skewed his lips and brought a hand up to scratch his cheek. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” She’d been sending off mixed signals for weeks.

  Even in cut-offs and a T-shirt, her hair swept back in a silky pony tail, Trish looked gorgeous.

  She glided to the back door. “Okay, guys, let’s get this done in record time so I can have some time to rest before dinner.”

  An hour later, she stood in the middle of the cottage floor, arms crossed, and viewed the space. “There. That’s much better.”

  Andy sauntered over beside her, wiping sweat from his forehead. The room no longer held the smell of dust, but the fragrance of fresh flowers Trish had picked from her now-weeded garden. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna put me to work. I didn’t know you were gonna rearrange the whole cottage.”

  “That’ll teach you to volunteer.” She sent a teasing smile that tugged at his heart.

  Bo yanked on Andy’s fingers and looked up at him with a impish grin, then turned his focus to Trish. “Mom, can I go over to Papaw’s for a while?”

  A frown wrinkled her forehead. “I guess so, but call first to make sure he’s home.”

  “’kay.” He raced out the screen door, letting it slam behind him.

  She scrunched her eyebrows together again, staring after him. “I wonder what he’s up to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s acting a little odd, like he’s up to something.”

  “Probably just wants to spend time with his grandpa.” Andy plodded to the overstuffed sofa and sank into the cushion. “So how’s the painting coming along?”

  “Not as fast as I’d like. I’m worried that I won’t have enough paintings for the art show in Dallas.” She raised a hand to her mouth and nibbled at her thumbnail.

  His pulse quickened. So far she seemed oblivious to the fact that he’d arranged the showing. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Have any completed?” He scanned the far corner of the room where they’d set up her easel.

  Trish shook her head, a brooding look on her face. “No, I just haven’t had time. Between trying to get stuff done for your office, my art lessons, and the job at Soldano’s, I’m snowed under right now.”

  “Mom, he’s there!” Bo hollered the words from the house.

  She traipsed to the doorway and waved. “Okay, have fun!”

  Andy cleared his throat. “What can I do to make things easier for you?”

  Her head cocked to one side, Trish studied him with her dark brown eyes. “Nothing. I wasn’t complaining. I was just stating fact. I’ve already planned to start staying up a couple of hours later than usual after Bo goes to bed.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business.” She grabbed a rag and started dusting a table that had already been dusted.

  Hmm, best if he didn’t respond.

  A moment later Trish stopped and looked his way. “I’m sorry, Andy. You didn’t deserve that.”

  He patted the cushy couch. “Come here.”

  Trish dropped the rag, made her way to the sofa, and plopped down beside him with a tired sigh. “Things are going so much better right now, but I’m so afraid of doing something to mess it up.”

  Fear. How many times had he done battle with it himself? “I feel that way sometimes, too, but fear isn’t from God.”

  Trish nodded. “You’re right, but it’s hard not to be afraid. I need these jobs to support myself and Bo, but I also need to be painting. I’d like to set up a website to showcase my art, but there’s not enough ti—”

  Bingo! That was it!
“Let me help.”

  An exasperated grunt fell from her lips. “There you go again, bu—”

  “Wait, hear me out. I built my website, so I already know how to do it. The only cost will be the domain name. I can take pictures of your art to add to the site.”

  “I just told you I don’t have anything painted.”

  He leaned forward and tweaked her button nose. “Yes, but according to your brother you have paintings all over town. I could probably knock on any door in town and find a Trish James painting.”

  She sent him a dubious smile. “I’m not sure they’re good enough, and when will you have time? Sounds like a lot of work.”

  “I’ll make time.” Even as the hope-laced words sounded, he knew it would mean losing a couple of hours’ sleep for a week or so. So what? If it kept her in Miller’s Creek, it was worth it.

  “I don’t want to overload you. And what if I get so many orders I can’t keep up?”

  “Stop being such a worrywart.” He grabbed her hand. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  She didn’t pull her hand away, and a flicker of hope sparked in her eyes. “I owe you so much for how you’ve helped Bo and me. How can I thank you?”

  Andy inhaled deeply. Put up or shut up time. “Let me take you to dinner.”

  “I’m sure Bo would be delighted. Thanks for the invi—”

  His pulse roared in his ears and his mouth went dry. “No. I mean just you and me.”

  Chapter 25

  “Delaine, I’ve already told you, I don’t have an answer yet.” Frustration crept into her tone. “Right now, things are going well. I won’t know about the move for a few more weeks.”

  “How can you say things are going okay when you’re still just scraping by?”

  Trish eyed the digital alarm clock. Andy would be here in a half hour to take her to dinner, and she still needed to get ready. “I may just be scraping by, but I’m happy. And more importantly, Bo’s happy.”

  “Have you gotten any orders from your website yet?”

  Fresh anxiety attacked. She hated that Andy had worked so hard for nothing. “No, but it’s only been up a week. Andy says it takes a while for the search engines to start picking you up.”

  “Andy says.” Delaine’s voice took on a mocking quality. Trish could imagine a similar expression on her face. “It seems to me that you’re putting a little too much stock in what Andy says.”

  Her backbone stiffened. “He’s done a lot for me, Delaine.”

  “No need to defend him, but if you ask me, he’s escorting you straight to the poorhouse.”

  “Look, I’ve gotta get ready. Can we talk about this later?”

  Delaine huffed a sigh through the phone. “Okay, but Francesca needs an answer soon. I can’t keep putting her off forever.” Without even saying good-bye, she hung up.

  Trish massaged her stiff neck. Delaine had always been overly dramatic, but she’d also been right on target when it came to business advice. Lord, I don’t know who to listen to anymore. Show me what I’m supposed to do.

  Part of the verse that had been on her heart for months made its way to her thoughts—don’t lean on your own understanding.

  Trish brought both hands to her face and peered at the clock. She’d better kick it into high gear if she expected to be ready by the time Andy arrived. Now if she could only figure out how to lean on God instead of her own understanding. That, and figure out what to wear.

  Fifteen minutes later she stood in front of the full-length mirror and examined her reflection, wishing she had a nicer dress. The slightly faded sundress was more than a little outdated, but would have to do.

  Her stomach did a saucy pirouette and deposited a sour taste to her tongue. Moving a hand to her abdomen, she took a gulp of air and let it out slowly. Why did she feel so frazzled? She’d shared a meal with Andy before, but this time it felt like a date.

  The doorbell sounded, and her pulse ratcheted up a few notches. She forced her legs to move slowly to the front door. No sense in getting all bothered about one evening.

  But one look at Andy’s face made her fears return. Excitement bounced in his eyes, and a grin wider than the Brazos lit his face.

  Trish wet her lips and sent a shaky smile. How she wished she could share in his excitement, but she couldn’t. One of them had to keep their feet on the ground. She couldn’t allow things to move too quickly. Not while there were still so many unknowns.

  “You look stunning. Here, these are for you.” He pulled a bouquet of sunflowers from behind his back, the pungent smell wafting to her nose.

  “How’d you know I like sunflowers?”

  His broad grin widened even more. “Lucky guess.”

  “Let me put these in water, and then we can go.”

  Andy closed the door behind him. “Can I see the painting you finished?”

  “It’s over by the fireplace.”

  He moved in the direction of her pointing finger and picked up the canvas. When she returned from putting the sunflowers in water, Andy still stood in the same position, perusing the painting.

  She wiped her sweaty palms against her sundress. “Well, what do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself.” His voice was low and throaty.

  “I’m glad you like it. I really struggled with getting the creek just right. I’m still not sure it’s all that gr—“

  “Stop it, Trish.” The words almost sounded angry, but then his expression softened. “Stop being so hard on yourself. You asked my opinion and I gave it. I love the painting.”

  “Thanks.” She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say.

  Andy leaned the painting against the stone fireplace, then grabbed her hand. “Sorry if I sounded harsh. I just wish you could see your art the way I see it.”

  “That’s hard to do when you’ve struggled to make it just right.”

  “I’m sure it is, but when someone gives you a compliment, take it and keep your critical thoughts to yourself.” He ended his lecture with a playful tug at her fingers.

  Trish pulled her hand away and forced a laugh, wishing again that she’d declined his dinner invitation.

  * * * * *

  Andy took in the stunning sight. Bathed in the light of a glorious Texas sunset, Trish stood perfectly still, like a golden-hued statue carved from the finest marble.

  “This is your boat?” She stared ahead, her mouth half open as they walked side-by-side down the pier, their shoes thudding against the grayed wood.

  He chuckled. “Not hardly. I borrowed it from a judge friend of mine.”

  “You went to all this trouble for me.” The words were half-comment, half-question as her gaze danced across the scene.

  “It was no trouble. I enjoyed it, and you deserve it.”

  “But it was troub—”

  He held a finger to her lips, and she turned her doe-like eyes his way. “Don’t ruin it, pretty lady. I wanted to do this for you.” He grabbed her hand and climbed in, helping her into the boat. “Watch your step.” The boat bobbed a bit, and he gripped her hand to make sure she didn’t lose her balance.

  Trish glanced toward the skirted table, set with flowers and fancy dishes. “I still can’t believe you did this.”

  “Why not?”

  She laughed and shook her head. Her silky brown hair bounced around her tanned shoulders. “It’s not that I doubt your ability to do it, I just don’t understand why.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. “For you. That’s all you need to know.” He delivered a stern look to let her know this line of discussion was closed. “Allow me to escort you to our table.”

  As if on cue, Hector Soldano, Juan’s oldest son, moved from beneath the canopy to the table, balancing a tray loaded with bread, cheese, fruit, and salad. He positioned the tray near the table. “Buenos noches,” he said in his thick Hispanic accent as he pulled out a chair for Trish.

  “You’re in on this, too?” Th
e incredulous look on her face was priceless.

  “Si, señora. Enjoy the starter course.” He placed the items from the tray on the table. “I’ll bring out the entrée when we reach our destination.”

  “Destination?” Trish arched both eyebrows inquisitively.

  Andy couldn’t help but laugh. “This may be a boat, but there’ll be no fishing tonight, especially when it comes to any of the details of this evening. Thanks, Hector.”

  Hector started the boat engine and set a slow, but steady course toward the sunset.

  Trish carved off a piece of the fresh-baked bread and buttered it, then took a dainty bite. “I still can’t believe—”

  “Hush. Just relax and enjoy.”

  She did as he asked, to the point that the only sound was the soft purr of the motor and the water lapping against the edge of the boat. “So do you have ideas for more paintings?” He sipped sparkling grape juice from the crystal goblet.

  “More than I can possibly ever paint,” she replied drolly. “I’ve done a few sketches. Now I just have to . . .” She hesitated, as if not quite sure how to voice her thoughts.

  “Have to what?” Andy sliced a piece of Swiss cheese from the block and layered it on the warm rye bread, then bit into it.

  “Would it be possible for me to get an advance to buy canvases and paints?” Trish’s face was drawn and tight, like it was killing her to have to ask.

  Andy paused in mid-chew. “Of course. You can’t exactly paint without supplies, can you?”

  She shook her head, her gaze trained on her plate.

  He took her hand, forcing eye contact. “Don’t feel bad about asking, Trish. I’m excited that you have this opportunity.”

  “It’s so important for the show to go well. I know I need to swallow my pride, but I can’t help but feel bad. I feel like such a loser having to depend on others.”

  “You shouldn’t. We all need outside help from time to time.” His mind instantly turned to his father, and the words he’d just spoken attacked his conscience. If he’d taken his own advice a little sooner would it have made a difference in his father’s medical condition?

  “Where’d you go?” Trish’s question broke through his muddled thoughts.