A Path Less Traveled

by Cathy Bryant

  “Hmm?”

  “You kinda zoned out on me there, like Bo does when he’s watching cartoons.”

  Andy wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin. “Just thinking about something.”

  “Which is a nice way of telling me to mind my own business. Okay, I’ll choose a different topic. I still don’t know anything about your family except you have a younger brother. Matt, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Wow, look at that sunset.”

  Trish faced the sinking orange orb, and her face softened. She gave a slow blink as the breeze tousled her hair. “It’s lovely. I wish I had my paints and a canvas. Maybe if I stare at it long enough, it’ll become etched on my memory.”

  Amazing how her words echoed his sentiments. Only it wasn’t the sunset that swiped his breath.

  She swiveled toward him. “I don’t deserve this, Andy, but thank you. It really is delightful.”

  The smile she sent reduced him to a puddle of goo, and words eluded him. Rare occurrence for a lawyer.

  “So how’s business?” Trish lifted a strawberry from the fruit plate.

  He shook himself and took a quick drink. “Better than expected. In fact, when I got back from the construction site today, I noticed my answering machine is full of messages.” He just hoped one of them wasn’t from Otis. Hopefully, the man would take his advice to wait a while longer until Trish had a chance to get back on her feet.

  “Speaking of the construction site, when will they be ready for me to take over the inside?”

  “Probably week after next.” The boat slowed, and Andy glanced around. Good. They had the place to themselves.

  “Where are we?” Trish sounded eager and excited, like a child discovering uncharted territory.

  “This is Eagle Island. Apparently eagles nest here in the winter.” The soft strains of jazz music began to waft from the speakers.

  Her tawny eyes widened, gold-flecked in the light. “I’ve lived near here all my life and never knew this place existed.”

  “Really? Then we’ll have to come back in the winter to scout for eagles. My favorite verse is the one from Isaiah that mentions how ‘those who wait on the Lord will mount up with wings like eagles.’”

  A faraway look nestled on her face. “Waiting’s so hard, isn’t it? Sometimes it seems like I’m in a holding pattern. Then at other times I feel like I’m about to do a nosedive.”

  A pang of hurt pounded through his chest. “Don’t give up, Trish. God won’t let you fall.”

  She smiled sadly. “I’m trying to hang on. I really am.”

  “I know.” He’d never seen anyone try so hard. Andy reached across the table and caressed her cheek. “I want to help.”

  “You already have. More than you know.”

  Behind them, Hector cleared his throat.

  Trish pulled back and fidgeted with her napkin.

  “Hope you like seafood.” Hector placed a covered tray on the table, and Andy lifted the lid to reveal boiled shrimp and grilled amberjack.

  “I love it, but there’s no way I can eat that much.” She turned to Hector. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook seafood, too.”

  An approaching motor boat garnered their attention.

  “Looks like my ride is here,” announced Hector. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

  Andy smiled and shook Hector’s hand. “No thanks. I think we can handle it from here.”

  Hector waved and climbed onto the other boat. As it sped away, Trish squirmed in her seat, her discomfort obvious. Andy did all he could to lighten the mood. Finally, he got her to relax by sharing some of Bo’s antics during their horse ride the previous day.

  The rest of the meal was filled with great conversation and laughter. Finally, Trish leaned back, both hands on her stomach, and groaned. “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “Me either.” Andy wiped his hands and mouth, then laid the linen napkin beside his plate. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You mentioned once that you felt like God sent me your way. You still feel that way?”

  She frowned. “In some ways.”

  His heart lurched. “What do you mean?”

  “I do believe He sent you our way. I’m just not sure how far our friendship is supposed to go.” She moistened her lips and looked at him directly. “I enjoy your company. You’ve been wonderful for Bo. I just can’t get past the fact that it hasn’t even been a year since Doc died.”

  “Your dad and Mama Beth—”

  “That’s a completely different situation.”

  He longed to tell her that it was indeed a different situation. She had a son who needed a daddy.

  Trish sighed. “I just wish I knew what God wanted.”

  How could he get through to her? “That’s what I like about that verse on the box I gave you. We don’t have to know, or question why. We just have to trust.”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  “It is simple. We’re the ones who make it complex.” He turned her chin to face him, taking a moment to search her eyes. “Earlier tonight when I was looking at your painting, you said something about staying with a work until you got it just right. That’s one of a thousand things I love about you.”

  She pulled away, rested her elbows on the table, and laid her chin on top of laced fingers, her lips curved up ever so slightly.

  “God’s the same way with us, Trish. He’s always working to make things just right. He’s the One painting the picture.”

  Her dark eyes took on a soft glow, one he could get lost in if he weren’t careful. He reached up to capture a strand of her hair and rubbed its silkiness between his fingers. “You feel up to a boat ride?”

  She nodded.

  Andy stood and held out a hand. She latched on and rose to her feet. He led her to the cockpit and nestled her in beside him while they boated around the lake, now molten gold in the ebbing sunlight.

  Neither of them spoke, but Trish gave a contented sigh and relaxed into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. He longed to glance at her, but was too afraid of breaking the spell.

  An hour later, the stars began to peek through the darkened sky. He made his way back across the lake and motored up to the dock. “I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I did.”

  “Very much.” She laid a hand on his arm, her chocolate eyes peering into his. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed something this much.”

  “My pleasure.” His gaze traveled to her full lips, and the next thing he knew he kissed her—a soft, sweet kiss, which she returned.

  Then just as quickly as it began, she pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” she said, bringing trembling fingers to her lips. “I didn’t mean to kiss you.”

  He caressed her arms. “Hey, it’s okay. And for the record, I kissed you.”

  Trish’s smile disappeared. “Andy, I’m not sure about this. I mean, I don’t even know if I’ll be staying in Miller’s Creek, and it’s so soon after Doc’s death . . .”

  “Shh.” Andy pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly, his cheek resting on her strawberry-scented hair. He refused to ruin this perfect evening with the thought of losing her. “I promise not to rush you. We’ll just take one day at a time and see where God leads.”

  She peered up at him, uncertainty inscribed on her features, studying his face for a long minute before she nodded her head.

  As Andy arrived back at his modest apartment above City Hall later that night, his mind reeling with the events of the day, he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving and praise to God for the wonderful evening with Trish. Things weren’t perfect, and there were still obstacles to overcome, but at the very least, they’d made great strides forward.

  He removed his dinner jacket, wandered to the answering machine, and pushed the play button, jotting down the messages on a legal pad. The last one in particular caught his attention and sent fear speeding through his veins.

  “Otis Thacker
here. I’ve decided to go ahead with the lawsuit against Trish.”

  Chapter 26

  Trish dabbed the last brush stroke on the over-sized painting and imagined the dimpled grin on Andy’s face when she presented it to him. It would look perfect hanging in his new office. Though time had been scarce because of work and getting ready for the Dallas exhibit, she’d pulled two weeks of long days to copy the painting she’d sold in Morganville.

  She stood back and viewed the piece in the last rays of daylight. It was the best she’d done yet and the very least she could do for the man who’d made such a difference in Bo’s life. The change in her son was nothing less than miraculous, and it was all because of Andy.

  The memory of the evening they’d spent at the lake flooded to the front of her mind, sending warmth throughout her body as she remembered his kiss. He’d been true to his promise and hadn’t tried to kiss her again. Disappointment flooded her heart, and she released a heavy sigh. It was for the best.

  An unexpected clap of thunder broke her reverie. She peered out the long expanse of windows toward the meadow. A black cloud hung low and ominous. If it were April or May, she’d be headed to Dad’s basement.

  Hurrying to the door, she flung it open and stepped out into stifling summer heat. Grayish-green clouds swirled above her head. Everything was perfectly still. Too still. Leaves hung limp from the trees, with not even the slightest of breezes to make them dance, and the mockingbirds had hushed their incessant copycat cries.

  Trish started for the house. She had to call Andy to warn him, then she needed to get to him and Little Bo before the storm broke.

  As she made her way to the door, pea-sized hailstones and heavy raindrops pounded to the dusty earth, sending up puffs of dirt and releasing the familiar musky scent of a Texas rainstorm. Covering her head with her arms, she sprinted the rest of the way and headed straight for the phone, raindrops sliding down her face into her mouth.

  Andy picked up on the first ring, unleashing a torrent of words. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for the past half hour. We’re under a tornado warning.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t take my cell phone out to the cottage.” Then his words sank in. “But it’s not the right time of year for a tornado.”

  “That tropical storm that hit the coast this morning is spawning them all across the state.”

  The hail banged louder against the metal roof. She raised her voice. “Are you and Bo okay?”

  “We’re fine. We headed to the church basement along with the rest of the town when the sirens started to blow. You need to take cover now.”

  But what if Bo needed her? “I’ll be fine. I’m coming to town. Bo is terrified of storms.”

  “No!” Andy’s shout sounded above the racket the hail stones made on the steel roof. “Stay put and take cover. Do not get out in this storm. Understand?”

  Trish started to argue, but the phone went dead, and a howling wail rumbled through the house like a freight train. She dashed toward the hall bathroom, her heart ricocheting in her chest. Lord, protect us.

  Just as she closed the door behind her, the house groaned and creaked, the pounding so loud she thought the roof might cave. Her leg muscles liquefied, and she sank to the floor. The walls shook, like a giant hand had closed around the house and wiggled it back and forth.

  From outside, the sound of trees snapping and glass breaking accented the horrific roar. The lighthouse picture Doc had bought on their honeymoon crashed to the floor beside her, and a shard of glass slashed into her arm, blood spurting from the open wound. The lights flickered off, leaving her in total darkness. Trish tucked her head between her knees and prayed.

  Then, just as suddenly as it hit, it was over. She rose, her knees still weak and wobbly, and peeked out the bathroom door. Except for broken window panes and fallen pictures and knick-knacks, the house looked miraculously the same. From the treacherous racket, she’d been convinced that not a stick would be left standing. She cautiously moved to the back door and opened it.

  The blood rushed from her head, and she leaned against the door frame to keep from falling. Debris littered the area, trees snapped in two like toothpicks, their branches stripped bare. Where the cottage once stood, only a gray expanse of concrete remained, and scattered across the backyard were her cottage and paintings—the last remnants of her attempt to stay in Miller’s Creek—the last shreds of her shattered hope.

  * * * * *

  Trish battled tears as she swerved to avoid the massive live oaks blocking part of the road in front of the main ranch house. Their exposed roots were gnarled hands clawing the sky, while holes gaped nearby like giant wounds upon the land. She loved those old oaks. Losing them was like losing childhood friends.

  Her thoughts turned to Bo. Surely he and Andy were safe. After all, they’d been in the church basement. Dad wasn’t at home, which meant he was with Mama Beth. She’d tried calling all of them on her cell phone, but only received the pleasant voice of a woman telling her that all circuits were currently busy and to please try again.

  Fresh doubts surfaced and sent panic to tap dance in her stomach. What if the church had been hit and the basement had caved in? What if Bo and Andy were trapped beneath the rubble? Her throat cinched, and she floored the accelerator.

  As she reached Miller’s Creek, fear nipped at her mind and her jaw hung slack. Trees crushed houses. Cars looked like toys tossed to the ground by a careless child. She had to get to Bo and Andy. Now!

  A minute later she braked to a hurried halt outside the church, which appeared undamaged. People huddled in groups, obviously in a state of shock. Steve met her at the curb, engulfing her in a bear hug. “Sis, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Trish pulled away, her trembling hands finding their way to her face. “Bo. Where’s Bo?” Her voice elevated with each word.

  “Relax. He’s fine. Andy took him to check on you since there’s no phone service. They may have stopped by his new office on their way. Supposedly that side of town took a pretty hard hit.” He looked down at her cut arm. “You need to get that tended to. I’ll go see if I can find something.” He raced toward the church.

  She didn’t have time to wait. Instead, she climbed in her car and tore out for the other side of town, her heart in her throat. Until she saw Bo and Andy with her own eyes, she couldn’t rest. As she neared the downtown area, the destruction before her eyes stole her breath, and it became evident she’d have to abandon her car and travel on foot.

  Ernie, the town policeman, stood nearby holding back traffic. She tried to sneak past, but Ernie saw her. “Trish, this area is blocked off for emergency personnel only. There are electrical lines down.” In high alert mode, he barked out the words.

  “I have to find Little Bo. He’s in there.” Without waiting for permission, she raced ahead. Steering clear of downed electrical lines, her feet pounded against the pavement as she dodged debris. But when she turned the corner, she came to an abrupt stop.

  A shiver ran down her arms and spine. The new office looked almost as bad as her now non-existent cottage. Were they still here? The milling crowds separated, and Andy came into view, Bo clinging to his neck.

  In a heartbeat, she found herself in Andy’s embrace, with no recollection of how she got there.

  He hugged her tightly, his breath hot against her cheek. “Thank you, God.” His voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

  She could hold back no longer, and wails ripped from her throat. The depth of her fierce love for Bo and Andy burned like fire in her stomach. She could’ve easily lost them both.

  Andy hugged her close again and kissed her cheek. “Shh, it’s okay. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to Bo.”

  Trish nodded, too embarrassed and shocked to tell him her tears weren’t only for her son. She pulled away, wiping her eyes with her palms. “I know. Thanks for taking such good care of him.”

  Bo released his death grip on Andy and fell into her arms, snuggling
his head under her chin. She planted a kiss on his silky hair, the citrusy scent of his shampoo pouring into her senses. More tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “We need to doctor that arm.” Andy removed a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and gently wrapped it around the cut and secured it with a knot. “That ought to do for now.”

  “How bad is the damage to your office?”

  His face clouded. “Pretty bad. The roof sustained structural damage.” He pointed to one corner that looked like a tyrannosaurus had taken a bite. “It’s a good thing you’ve finished so many paintings, ‘cause I’ll need your help if I’m gonna get this office opened before the Chamber Banquet like I’ve advertised.”

  An ache pierced her chest. She couldn’t tell him there were no longer any paintings. If he knew, he’d insist she spend all her time getting ready for the show. Well, that wouldn’t happen now. She couldn’t let him down. He’d done so much for her when she needed him the most. Now was her chance to return the favor. But at what cost?

  * * * * *

  Andy scraped fingernails down his neck and leaned back in his leather office chair. If something didn’t let up soon, he was gonna blow a gasket! In the week since the tornado, he’d spent more time handling his caseload than working on his new office, and it was taking every bit of strength he had to continually talk Otis out of the lawsuit. He’d been tempted to pay the man himself, but considering Trish’s desire to do things on her own, had thought better of it. Once the building was complete, he’d give her a hefty bonus and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  He rubbed a hand across his mouth, trying to focus on the computer screen, but the lines of legal research ran together. Trish had been such a God-send. She’d taken his continual absence in stride and worked pretty much non-stop with the rebuilding of his office, taking care of Bo, working at Soldano’s, and helping others clean up from the tornado. When did she find time to paint? Two in the morning?

  His phone trilled, drawing his thoughts back to his too-hectic life. He almost didn’t answer, but changed his mind after further thought. He couldn’t afford to turn clients away right now. The phone shrilled again, and he snatched it from its cradle. “Tyler Law Firm, Andy here.”