A Path Less Traveled

by Cathy Bryant

  He chuckled. “Nice try, but not gonna happen. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “You, more than anyone, should know I have trust issues.”

  A teasing smirk landed on his face. “Just think of it as practice.”

  Trish glanced at the clock. “Yikes!” She jumped to her feet and headed toward the door. “We’ve got to get this decorating done. I already feel about two years behind, and my to-do list is out the door.”

  Andy latched on to her hand and spun her around. “Hey, slow down. You don’t have to be in such a mad dash.”

  Her frustration mounted. “I don’t think you realize how much I have to do. In addition to this wedding, I have five internet orders to fill. The Dallas Art Show—which may I remind you, you got me into—is coming up, and I want to have a booth at the Autumn Daze festival. I don’t know when I’m supposed to get all this d—”

  He clamped a palm over her mouth. “Shhh. Chill out, Trish. Remember our pact?”

  She breathed in deep. Only after she calmed down did he remove his hand. Trish repeated the words that they’d prayed over together. “Trust that God is only going to give us what we can handle. Anything else is our struggle to do it on our own.”

  His eyes took on that loving look that made her go weak in the knees. The one that made her question her resolve to move slowly in this relationship. “I love you, Trish James, and I’m so glad God allowed our paths to collide. I don’t want to take this journey with anyone but you.”

  Trish swallowed and lowered her head. Why was this moving so fast? The more determined she was to pull back, the more determined Andy seemed to break down her feeble barriers.

  He must have sensed her indecision, because he pulled her to him and sealed his words with a kiss. “Now, let’s go get that stuff and get it thrown into place.”

  Trish laughed and plopped a kiss on the end of his nose. “As I recall, that was your method of decorating at the last wedding you helped me with.” She shot off the comment, then noting the mischievous look on Andy’s face, she screamed and raced away from his grasp.

  He caught her before she reached the door, and she wasn’t sorry.

  * * * * *

  The next day, Trish stood at the back of the church and viewed the decorations, chiding herself for her frantic behavior the day before. Andy had proved to be a capable helper, able to somehow anticipate what needed to be done, and they’d finished in record time. Now gold, orange, and fiery-red leaves, along with berries and sunflowers, decorated the podium and spilled over onto the pew decorations. The fragrance of cinnamon apples and pumpkin rose from lit candles that decorated the perimeter of the sanctuary. The results were even more stunning than Steve and Dani’s wedding.

  She shook off a chill that seemed to work its way out from a cold place inside her. Her Dad would marry Mama Beth in a few minutes, a reality she still struggled with. Her head knew Dad had no intention of replacing her mother with a new wife, but her heart still ached for Mom.

  Once again, all of Miller’s Creek had turned out for the wedding, the friendly chatter in the church louder than the soft music that spilled from the speakers. Dani sidled up and put an arm around her shoulder. “Trish, you’ve outdone yourself again. It’s beautiful.” She paused, her blue eyes full of concern. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I want you to know how much Mama Beth loves your dad.”

  Trish ducked her head to hide the tears that stung her eyes. “I know she does.”

  “She’d like to speak with you alone before the wedding, if you feel up to it.”

  A knot formed in her throat. This was something she needed to do. Dad loved Mama Beth, and it was important that she felt welcomed into the family. She gave Dani a nod, then made her way to the bride’s room.

  Mama Beth stood near the window, dressed in a knee-length gown of ivory lace, and turned to face Trish as she entered the room. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  Trish walked over to give her a hug. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, dear.” A hand flitted nervously to the cameo at the base of her throat. “Can we sit and talk for a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  They moved to a pair of Queen Anne chairs. Mama Beth studied her with kind, wise eyes. “I know I’ve already told you this, but I wanted to say it again. I’ve loved your father my entire life. During high school, we both dreamed of the day we’d be grown and married with children.” Her voice caught, and she lowered her head to gather control. “But God had other plans. For reasons no one knows, God’s plan for your father was to marry someone else.”

  Trish thought through the information, realizing again how much this woman had endured, her dreams and expectations for life bound up in a man who took a different road. “I’m sorry for how painful that must have been.”

  Mama Beth smiled sadly. “For a very long time I questioned why God allowed my path to be so painful, just as I’ve seen you ask Him the very same questions.”

  It was true. She’d never seen the path of widowhood coming.

  The older woman stood and made her way to a small package nearby and brought it back to Trish. “I made a gift for your father a very long time ago, while we were still in high school. I made another one for you.”

  Trish took the package and gently removed the wrapping to reveal a hand-stitched bookmark engraved with the words: “Trust in the LORD with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” Tears slipped down Trish’s cheeks unbidden. Mama Beth had no way of knowing how much this very verse had impacted her life over the past few months.

  “I’m sorry, Trish. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  Trish smiled up at her. “I’m okay. It’s just that this verse has become very special to me. I think this bookmark is God’s way of telling me my relationship with you is going to be very special as well.” She lifted her purse and opened it, removing the matching bookmark Dad had given her—the one worn with time and prayers—the one she always carried with her no matter what.

  Mama Beth gasped. “He gave it to you?”

  “Loaned might be a better word.”

  A tender smile crossed Mama Beth’s face. “Isn’t it amazing how God intersects and weaves our paths together?”

  “Andy and I have talked about that before.”

  “Speaking of Andy.” Mama Beth laid a hand on hers. “How are things going?”

  Trish frowned. “He’s wonderful, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I just can’t get past how quickly this has all happened.”

  “I understand your reservations, Trish, but I believe God brought that young man into your life for a reason.” Her kind blue eyes held wisdom. “Trust Him.”

  Lord, show me how. She faced Mama Beth again, and held out Dad’s worn bookmark. “Would you like to carry this as your ‘something old’?”

  Mama Beth’s eyes flooded with tears and she wrapped Trish in a hug. “I’d be honored, dear.”

  A few minutes later, Trish and Andy met beneath a twinkling arch of fall leaves and berries to once again head down the aisle.

  “This seems vaguely familiar,” Andy muttered under his breath as they headed down the aisle to camera flashes.

  “At least your tux fits this time.”

  His left dimple winked at her from his cheeky grin. “I like walking down the aisle with you.”

  Trish’s heart bounced in her chest as they reached the steps leading to the platform. Words eluded her. All she could do was send him a brief smile and move to the taped “x” on the floor, praying God would continue to direct her path toward Andy Tyler.

  * * * * *

  Trish crawled from bed, bleary-eyed, and pulled on her robe over her pajamas. Who was banging at the door so early on a Saturday morning? And didn’t they realize she was up late the night before cleaning up after the wedding? She stumbled down the hallway toward the front door, but Bo passed he
r and opened it right as she got there.

  Andy entered carrying two white bags, the accompanying aroma teasing her nose. “Anyone around here like donuts?” He sang the words, then pecked her on the cheek as he passed.

  “I do, I do.” Bo giggled with delight.

  Trish slammed the door and followed them to the dining room. “Are you always so sunny and chipper this early in the morning?”

  Andy laughed. “Are you always so grumpy?”

  “Yep.” Bo sank his teeth into a chocolate-covered donut.

  “Thanks a lot, traitor.” She moved toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. A big one.

  But again Andy passed her by. “I’ll make the coffee. You go get in the shower.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause we’ve got things to do, people to see, life to explore. Time’s a-wasting. Hop to it, chick!” He barked the order like an over-exuberant cheerleader.

  “Why is it that when I’m in a hurry, you tell me to chill, but when you’re in a hurry, you tell me to hop to it?”

  He shrugged, laughed, and planted a kiss on her lips. “’Cause what I have to do is more important.”

  She jutted out her left hip and crossed her arms. “How could it be more important than getting some paintings done for the art show and Autumn Daze Festival? I told you yesterday how far behind I am. I don’t have time for fun and games today.”

  Andy pulled her into an embrace. “For someone who’s a non-lawyer type, you sure are argumentative.”

  Trish glared at him, his early morning pep rally starting to grate on her last nerve.

  A goofy grin crossed his face, his eyes half open. “You, my dear, are just gonna have to trust me.”

  She pulled away and headed down the hallway. “I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

  One hour, two donuts, and three cups of coffee later, Andy escorted her and Bo to his car, almost giddy. “Your coach awaits, princess.” He opened the door, held out one arm, and bowed.

  “I still don’t understand why you can’t tell me where we’re going.”

  Exasperation covered his face. “Because it’s a secret.”

  Bo chimed in from the back seat. “Yeah, and everyone knows you’re not s’posed to tell a secret.”

  Trish wrinkled her brows. “You know about this, too?”

  “Yep.” A smug smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

  All the way to town, Andy and Bo sang silly songs and laughed. Trish tried her best to enter their fun, but the thought of all she should be doing kept her from enjoying the time. When they pulled into the parking lot of his home and office, Andy let out a cheery “We’re here!” and exited the car, coming around to her side to open the door.

  “You got me up this early in the morning to come to your office?” Her previous aggravation elevated to anger.

  He held up one finger. “Remember. Trust me.” He held a hand out as Bo passed. “Blind-fold, please.”

  Bo slapped a red bandana onto Andy’s opened palm. “Check.”

  Her radar went up. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not going anywhere blind-folded with you two.”

  “Why?” Andy’s expression was one of mock hurt.

  “Because I don’t tr—”

  “You don’t trust me.” He finished the statement, and let his eyes take on the puppy dog look she could never refuse.

  “Okay. Fine.” She twirled around, putting her back to Andy, so he could tie the blindfold, then held her hands out to make sure they didn’t run her into bushes or buildings.

  Andy’s lips brushed her ear. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  “What was your first clue?”

  “Shame on you, Trish James.” He held her hand tightly. “Okay, we’re going down the stairs.”

  “You got your basement finished! That’s the big surprise, isn’t it?”

  “Party pooper.”

  They arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Just a few more steps, Mom.”

  “Okay, this should do.” Andy brought her to a stop. “Take the blindfold off.”

  She pulled the bandana down around her neck. The basement had been finished in a blah-beige from the carpet to the ceiling. Recessed lighting spotlighted empty walls, and there wasn’t a stick of furniture.

  “Well, what do you think?” Andy’s voice held excitement.

  Was he serious? He’d painted the whole room beige and made a big deal over bringing her here to see his lack of design skills? The room was nothing but a blank canvas. How could she express her opinion without completely destroying the joy in his eyes? “Um, it’s very nice, Andy, but why is it empty?”

  “It’s not empty. Oh, I have you facing the wrong way.” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

  On the wall in front of her was one painting—the one she’d wanted to give him—but had sold at the festival in Morganville. “Where did you get that painting?”

  “I bought it.”

  “No, you didn’t it. I sold it to a charming old gentleman. I remember because at first I told him it wasn’t for sale, but he offered me so much I couldn’t refuse.”

  Andy nodded. “Which made me pay a ridiculous amount.”

  Realization dawned. “You mean he . . .”

  “Yep. He bought it for me.” He crowed the words triumphantly.

  “But why?”

  He slid his hands down her arms. “Because I wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let me. Because I love the painting. But mostly because I love you.”

  There it was again, that look of love and utter devotion that made her tremble inside. Suddenly familiar voices sounded upstairs. One by one, her Miller’s Creek friends clunked down the steps carrying large frames. Her breath caught in her throat, and she brought both hands to her face.

  J.C. was first in line, his kind eyes shimmering, his head lowered bashfully. “Here’s the painting you did of the home place where I grew up, Miss Trish.” J.C. showed the painting, then moved to one of the spotlights and hung it on the wall.

  Wanda Cates, the city secretary, was next. “I’ve had this painting you made of my prize rosebush hanging in my living room all these years. I’m happy to put it in your exhibit, but only on loan.” Her nasally voice called out over her shoulder as she moved to yet another spotlight and positioned the art.

  “And I love this picture you did of my old ’67 Mustang.” Coot trumpeted the drawled-out words in a burst of bad breath, then joined his friends.

  In what seemed like an endless line, people brought the work she’d painted over the years, quickly filling up the once bare walls. Last were Dani and Steve. Her brother deposited a pile of paintings at his feet, then stood and glared at Andy. “Next time you plan something like this, would you mind doing it when Dad and Mama Beth are in town?”

  “Oh, don’t mind him,” said Dani, hugging Trish’s neck. “We’re happy to bring their paintings to add to your exhibit.” Then she winked at Andy and stooped to help Steve pick up the pile of artwork at their feet.

  Then, to the shouts of the crowd, Mama Beth and Dad came trouncing down the steps.

  Trish’s mouth flew open. “Y’all are supposed to be on your honeymoon!”

  “When Andy told us his plan, we delayed our flight.” Mama Beth embraced her.

  “I wasn’t about to miss this day.” Dad choked out the words and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  But it wasn’t a big enough deal for them to miss their honeymoon! Tears inching down her cheeks and her mouth agape, Trish turned and looked around the room, now filled with the people she loved. The bare walls were now covered with her paintings. Her friends were generously loaning their artwork for her upcoming exhibits, and Andy had been behind it all. She faced him, blinking back more tears. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  Andy looked at Bo, huge grins plastered across both their faces. “Would you help me remember she said that, buddy?”
/>   Bo nodded. “Yep.”

  Trish wiped away tears and turned to face the crowd. “I’m incredibly blessed to have friends like you. Words can’t express how much I love you.”

  Then in a move that took her breath away, Andy went down on one knee in front of her, a hand stretched toward Little Bo. “Ring, please.”

  Bo pulled a black velvet box from his pocket and placed it in Andy’s hand. “Check.”

  Chuckles sounded around the room, and Andy’s eyes went soft. “Trish James, I want to travel all of life’s paths with you. I want to share thousands of sunsets and horse rides. I want to walk down the aisle with you again and again and again. Will you marry me?”

  She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Instead, she raised both hands to her cheeks and nodded her head.

  Bo stepped up to Andy and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s her way of saying she’s really, really happy, and yes, we’ll marry you.”

  Trish joined them on the floor for a family-sized hug, and the room broke out in cheers.

  There was no longer any doubt that this unexpected path had been God’s plan all along. She’d spent far too long trying to forge her own path, but it wasn’t up to her to paint this picture. Instead, they’d continue to trust God, and He would direct their paths.

  THE END

  * * * * *

  Dear friends,

  Trish’s spiritual journey in the story—as is usually the case in my writing—came from my own quest for God’s direction in my life. How many times have I prayed for God’s direction, when it clearly states in His Word that if we trust Him with all our heart, He will direct our paths?

  When we walk by sight, our journey through this earth to our heavenly home can be so confusing. But these earthly eyes are limited and temporal. They see only a small fraction of reality. A bigger reality is being played out all around us on a daily basis. If we rely only on our finite senses, we miss so much!

  A faith-walk is challenging to be sure, but also exhilarating and liberating. When we place our complete trust in the One who loves us perfectly—the One who knows us better than we know ourselves—each step becomes part of a marvelous adventure directed by the very hand of God.