On Lone Star Trail

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On Lone Star Trail Page 28

by Amanda Cabot


  As he refilled his mug, TJ gave her an approving look. “Exactly. We may have to figure out something different to do with the kids when it’s so hot. Campfires lose their appeal in the summer.”

  We. He’d said we. Her heart soaring over TJ’s use of the plural pronoun, as if he were planning to stay at least as long as she was, Gillian smiled. “S’mores never lose their appeal, but we could always ask the kids what they’d like to do.”

  Though it was possible they had summer activities that would keep them too busy for nightly gatherings, she doubted it. From what Kate had said, activities were scarce, which was part of the reason she and Greg had offered the Firefly Valley kids the use of the resort’s tennis court and rowboats.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” TJ’s expression telegraphed his skepticism. “If we ask them, half will say they want to learn to ride a motorcycle.”

  Gillian’s shudder was only slightly exaggerated. Many things had changed yesterday, but her fear of motorcycles had not. “That’s not a good idea,” she said as calmly as she could. “Besides the fact that the kids aren’t old enough, there are obvious safety issues.”

  TJ laid his mug back on the table and turned to face her, a hint of a smile teasing his lips. “I understand why you feel the way you do about motorcycles, but I still wish you’d ride one. You might be surprised at how much you enjoy it.”

  Gillian shook her head. “You can wish all you want, but it’s not going to happen. Subject closed. On a happier note, it sounds as if you’ve decided to stay. Is that why you look more relaxed?”

  TJ dropped his gaze to his plate in what Gillian suspected was a deliberate effort to keep her from reading his expression. “I haven’t made any decisions other than that—like you—I want to be here for the kids this summer. I’m also reevaluating my future, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet.”

  Classic TJ, preferring to keep his life private. Some things would never change.

  40

  What’s going on with TJ?” Kate pushed the button, smiling when the mobile Gillian had bought for John began to revolve. When she’d seen the Noah’s ark toy, Gillian had been unable to resist. Now the animals—in pairs, of course—moved slowly in circles along with the rainbow-topped ark.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to buy time. She’d believed she was the only one who’d noticed how TJ seemed to smile more often and how there were times when he looked at her with a warmth that hinted at more than simple friendship.

  “The man is obsessed with something,” Kate said. “He told Greg he needed to do some online research and asked if he could use one of our computers after hours. You know Greg. Of course he agreed. Ever since, TJ’s been spending four to six hours a night doing something on the internet.” Kate turned to Gillian. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what’s going on.”

  “He said something about reevaluating his future. Maybe it’s related to that.” But in typical TJ fashion, he’d shared none of the details with Gillian.

  When John’s gurgles turned into the slow and even breathing of sleep, Kate took a seat near Gillian. “Looks to me like you and Mike are working on your future. For a man who’s supposed to be getting ready for an election, I hear he’s spending a lot of time in Dupree.”

  “That’s hardly a secret. I told you we had lunch together.”

  Kate lifted an eyebrow. “You neglected to mention that that was a daily occurrence.”

  “He missed last Wednesday.”

  “But his mother came instead.”

  Gillian raised her hands in surrender. “If you know all that, why are you making such a big deal about it?”

  “Because it’s so much fun to tease you. I’ve waited a long time to see you date a man like Mike.” Kate leaned forward and laid her hand on Gillian’s. “So, tell me. Is he the one?”

  Gillian sighed. “I don’t know. And, no, I’m not being coy. It’s great spending time with Mike. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say I’m more comfortable with him than I’ve ever been with a man. His family’s incredible too. When I’m with them, I feel as if I’m another Tarkett.”

  Kate nodded slowly. “I’m probably out of line saying this, but sometimes I wonder if the attraction is Mike or his family. You talk about Stacy and Cal almost as much as Mike.”

  Did she? Gillian wasn’t aware of that. “They’re all pretty wonderful.”

  “So when Mike proposes—you’ll notice that I said ‘when’ and not ‘if’—you’ll accept.”

  Turning her hand over, Gillian laced her fingers through Kate’s the way she’d done so many times when they were growing up. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but I’m just not sure.”

  “Why? What’s holding you back?”

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  Kate’s eyes narrowed. “TJ?”

  Unwilling to admit the truth, Gillian countered with another question. “What made you say that?”

  “I’m not blind, Gillian. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You can deny it all you want, but you care for him.”

  “I do. He’s a friend. A good friend, but that’s all it’ll ever be. TJ’s like my dad. He’s a one-woman man.” To Gillian’s dismay, she burst into tears.

  It was awful. Not even in her kindest moments would she call the sounds coming from the center “music.” Whoever was attempting to play the piano was torturing it. For the past three days, each time she’d left the bookstore, Gillian had heard the noise. Butchered scales, chords that would make Beethoven grateful for his deafness, mangled arpeggios. Today it was worse than ever. Though Gillian couldn’t be certain, it sounded as if two people were attempting a duet. Surely it was better for Sally’s piano to gather dust than to be abused like this.

  Though she’d deliberately ignored the sounds the other days, she could ignore them no more. She crossed the street and entered the senior center. As she’d thought, two women were seated on the piano bench, banging keys as if the sheer noise would make up for hitting all the wrong notes.

  “Ladies, what’s going on?” Gillian raised her voice to be heard over the cacophony.

  Amelia and Edie, two of the Matchers, turned, their expressions radiating innocence. “We were trying to play ‘Chopsticks.’”

  Gillian tried not to cringe. The notes they’d hit bore no resemblance to the simple tune. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said they were deliberately pressing the wrong keys, but surely no one would do that.

  “Why don’t we try a prettier song?” she said, reaching for the pile of sheet music someone had left on top of the piano.

  “I can read music,” Amelia told her, “but I’ve never had formal lessons.”

  “We both want to be able to play Christmas carols this year.” Edie gave Gillian a look that was little short of beseeching. “Can you help us?”

  And so Gillian found herself agreeing to give piano lessons each afternoon when she finished work at the bookstore.

  To her surprise, the women weren’t as inept as the noise that had emanated from the center had led her to believe. All three Matchers displayed basic competence. It was Sally who found the stretch required for octaves to be a challenge. But, though she admitted that her hands hurt when the lessons were over, she persisted.

  “She’s a real trouper,” Gillian told Kate a week later, “but she’s making progress.”

  “What about you? Are you enjoying it?”

  Gillian nodded. “I never expected to. You know how my dad is about teaching. After years of listening to him carry on about how I was meant for better things, I never even considered it.”

  She smiled at Kate as she tickled little John’s nose. “I should have listened to TJ when he told me I ought to try teaching. He was right.”

  The ache in Gillian’s heart that never completely disappeared deepened. Somehow everything came ba
ck to TJ.

  Today was the final test. TJ swung his left leg backward, retracting the kickstand, then nodded as the bike moved forward. He’d expected to feel nervous, but to his surprise, he didn’t. It was time. It had been almost two weeks since he’d realized what he wanted his future to be.

  He took a deep breath as he turned onto Lone Star Trail, heading for Dupree. There had been two parts to his vision of the future, and he was close to settling the first. That was the reason the past two weeks had been so busy. In addition to his teaching responsibilities and the time he spent with Gillian—breakfast, supper, and evenings at Firefly Valley—TJ had stayed up late each night researching his choices.

  There had been more options than he’d expected. He’d briefly considered lay ministry, but that didn’t feel like the right answer for him. It seemed definite that God wanted him to make the commitment of attending a seminary and being trained as a minister.

  When he reached the top of Ranger Hill, TJ glanced in his rearview mirror. The panorama spreading out behind him never failed to touch him with its beauty. Against all odds, he’d found peace in a place that included an RV village and a Christian resort. Two months ago he would have believed that impossible, but two months ago he hadn’t known Gillian.

  TJ’s smile faded as he considered the woman who’d captured his fancy in so many ways. Ordinary moments spent with Gillian seemed extraordinary. Just walking together toward Firefly Valley, their hands occasionally brushing, was enough to stir TJ’s blood. But he’d done nothing about his feelings, because he knew it wasn’t time. Not yet.

  Meanwhile, Mike Tarkett was courting Gillian. Todd had told TJ that Mike’s Ferrari was parked in front of Hill Country Pages each day at one, leaving an hour later. TJ couldn’t imagine that lunch in a bookstore where customers could arrive at any moment was romantic, but Mike’s taking time away from both work and his campaign told TJ how serious he was.

  He also knew Mike and Gillian had gone on what TJ would classify as real dates the last two Saturdays, because Gillian had mentioned that she wouldn’t be at supper those nights. He hadn’t asked for details. There were some things a man didn’t need to know. What he needed to know was whether he was right in believing God intended him to be a minister, not just the itinerant RV Reverend, but a fully ordained minister with a church of his own.

  Two minutes later he parked his bike in the lot next to the church. It was time to find the answers to his questions.

  TJ walked confidently up the stairs. When he entered the narthex, one of the men he’d seen at the senior center gave him a warm smile and the church bulletin. “It’s good to see you, TJ.”

  “It’s good to be here.” Though the words were a polite reply, TJ realized he meant them. As he’d walked through the doors, he’d felt welcomed and not simply by the greeter. He took a seat in the last row, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. Gillian was seated toward the front with Kate, Greg, and their baby along with Kate’s grandmother and her husband. TJ knew they’d be happy for him to join them. Perhaps he’d do that next week, but today he needed to be alone.

  He closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer for direction. Afterward, TJ could not have told anyone which hymns were sung, which Scripture readings had been chosen, or what the sermon had been. But when Pastor Bill pronounced the benediction and the congregation began to file out of the church, TJ had his answer. This was where he was meant to be.

  41

  I heard you came to church today,” Gillian said as she slid a piece of ham onto her plate. Though she attempted to keep her voice neutral, when Kate had reported that TJ had been seen in the last pew, happiness had surged through Gillian. Surely this meant TJ had continued to mend his relationship with God, and for that she gave a silent prayer of thanks. Once again the Lord had answered one of her prayers.

  Gillian didn’t claim to be an expert, but if the way he’d comforted her was indicative of his ministry—and Gillian believed it was—TJ was meant to be a pastor. Her heart filled with joy that he was moving in that direction.

  TJ nodded. “I figured the grapevine wouldn’t waste much time in spreading the word. I ducked out as soon as I could, but I wasn’t able to avoid everyone.”

  “You sound like a teenager breaking curfew.”

  A smile crossed TJ’s face. “More like the prodigal son, although I didn’t see any fatted calves.”

  “Carmen could arrange that. And for the record, you could have sat with us.” Though if he had, Gillian wasn’t certain she would have heard much of the sermon. As it was, she wondered what had brought him to church this morning. Since there was nothing special about today’s service, she had to believe it was simply the right time for him.

  “I know you’d have welcomed me,” TJ said as he took a spoonful of peas before replacing the bowl on the lazy Susan, “but the back of the church seemed like a better idea.”

  “In case there were lightning bolts?”

  The question was meant to be facetious, but TJ seemed to take it seriously. “Something like that.”

  “I didn’t notice any.”

  This time he smiled. “No, and before you ask, yes, this was part of my plan for the future.”

  That was wonderful news. Gillian laid her hand on TJ’s. “I’m glad.”

  “It was time.” TJ reached for a roll. “When I was in town yesterday, everyone was talking about tomorrow’s Memorial Day celebration,” he said, obviously changing the subject. “I heard the seniors are planning to carry a flag to the cemetery and stop at each veteran’s grave. They asked me to take some pictures.” He broke the roll open and buttered one piece. “I’d offer you a ride, but I know how you feel about my bike. I’ll just meet you there.” Amusement tinged his words.

  Gillian shook her head. “Actually, I won’t be here.” There was no reason to feel so awkward telling TJ about her dates with Mike. Still, she tried to avoid any mention of Mike. Somehow, though she couldn’t quite explain it, it seemed wrong to tell TJ she’d be spending the day with the man who’d made it no secret that he was interested in being more than a friend.

  “I’m going to Blytheville’s celebration,” she said quickly. There. It was out in the open.

  For a second, TJ’s expression was unguarded, and Gillian thought she saw both anger and disappointment in his eyes. It happened so fast that she might have been mistaken, because a second later he shrugged. “Oh . . . of course.”

  The weather was perfect, the sky a vivid blue with a few puffy cumulus clouds drifting across it, a light breeze keeping the day from being too hot. Gillian looked around as she and Mike drove into Blytheville. It seemed as if everyone in town had come out for the ceremony. Though she’d referred to it as a celebration, that was a misnomer. Instead, it was a solemn reminder of those who’d given their lives for freedom.

  As she studied the people who’d begun to line the parade route, Gillian was grateful Mike had told her about the unwritten dress code. Almost everyone wore red, white, and blue. The majority were dressed in jeans with red gingham shirts, but a few women wore red shorts, blue chambray shirts, and white hats. Gillian had chosen a white skirt with a red and white striped shirt. A wide navy belt and the navy boots Samantha had made for her added the blue to Gillian’s ensemble.

  She was in full patriotic dress, but Mike was not. When he had arrived to pick her up, Gillian had been surprised to see that, though he wore jeans and a white shirt, there was no red in his outfit.

  “Where’s your red?” she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

  He gestured toward the shiny red Ferrari. “Isn’t the car enough?” When Gillian shook her head, pointing out that he wasn’t wearing the car, nor was he driving it in the parade, he relented. “You’ll have to wait until we arrive, but trust me. This mayoral candidate has no intention of breaking with tradition.”

  Though Gillian speculated that he
was planning to wear a red vest or that he had red boots like Kate’s, Mike refused to confirm or deny her guesses, simply saying “maybe” and “possibly.”

  When they parked behind Strawberry Chantilly in what appeared to be the staging area for several floats, he turned to Gillian. “You want red? Here it comes.”

  He covered the distance to one of the floats in a couple quick strides. Reaching inside, he pulled out a red cowboy hat and plunked it on his head.

  “A red hat?” Gillian studied the man standing in front of her. Though she’d seen a few red hats in the crowd, they’d been either ball caps or the fancy creations some over-fifty women wore to club meetings. Not one had been a cowboy hat. The look was distinctive, and yet . . .

  “I thought the good guys always wore white.”

  Mike adjusted the angle. “I imagine that’s what my opponent is wearing. My campaign manager suggested I try something less predictable.”

  Not only was it less predictable, but the hat made the statement that Mike wasn’t afraid of change. He hadn’t flouted tradition; he’d merely given it a fresh spin.

  “If someone takes a picture of you holding the hat in front of you for the national anthem and the pledge of allegiance, you’ve got the perfect campaign photo.”

  “Have you been talking to my mother? That’s what she said.” Raised eyebrows accompanied Mike’s response.

  “You know what they say about great minds.”

  Glancing behind him when he heard the rumble of a truck, he grinned. “Here comes the other great mind.”

  Stacy hopped out of the truck and hurried toward Gillian, leaving her husband to follow at a more decorous pace. “I’m so glad you could come.” A warm hug accompanied her words, and for the seconds she was in the other woman’s embrace, Gillian felt like part of the family.

  There was no question about it. Being with the Tarketts—all of them—was wonderful. Moments like these filled Gillian with happiness and made her wonder if this was the future God had in store for her. The appeal of being part of a loving family and living near Kate and Sally grew with every hour Gillian spent with Mike.

 

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