A Path Less Traveled (19 page)

She let out a
shaky breath. “My head knows its okay, but it’s so much harder than I
expected.”

“Just take it
slow and easy like Bo did. You’ll be all right.”

A few minutes
later, she inhaled deeply, released it, and mounted.

A grin spread
from his heart to his face. “You look like a rodeo queen.”

“That was a very
long time ago, maybe even a different lifetime.” Her eyes glazed a bit before
she peered back down at him. “Just a fair word of warning, city slicker. You’d
better saddle up quick, or Bo and I’ll leave you in the dust.” Trish tugged the
reins, nudged the horse with her heels, and trotted out into open sunshine.

Andy didn’t
hesitate, but mounted and trotted after them. This had the makings of a great
day.

An easy-going
camaraderie blanketed their time together, Bo happier and more connected than
ever as they galloped across open pasture. The change in his demeanor affected
Trish as well. She laughed and teased and smiled, the lines normally furrowing
her forehead erased.

Trish led her
horse into a ravine, Bo on her heels. Immediately the terrain turned from
grassy to rocky, and instead of dull thuds, the horses’ hooves clip-clopped,
stirring ups clouds of dust that infiltrated his nose and mouth. A smoky-blue
mesa loomed in the distance.

The family-type
outing made his chest tighten and ache. The last thing he wanted was more
heartbreak, but for today—for this brief, joy-filled day—he’d allow himself the
possibility of how life with them at his side might play out.

At lunchtime they
located a grove of trees for their picnic. While Bo chased baby frogs near the
creek, Trish spread out the blanket, and Andy retrieved the food from the
knapsack. He lowered himself to the heavy quilt and pulled items from the bag.
“Chips, soda pop, chicken, and my personal favorite, chocolate chip cookies.”

Trish sat beside
him. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything.” She spoke softly, a hint of a
smile hovering on her lips.

“It’s not much.”

She laid a hand
on his arm and drew his gaze. Her eyes held sincerity. “It’s everything. Do you
know what you’ve done for us? I don’t know an adequate way to express—”

“Happy to help.” Andy
patted the hand which still rested on his arm. “In fact, seeing you both so
relaxed makes me glad.” No, more than glad.
Overjoyed.

Trish pulled her
hand away. “You know what I think?”

He raised his
eyebrows in response.

“I think God
brought you into our lives.”

How many times
had he thought the same thing? “The same is true in reverse. I’m not sure my
move to Miller’s Creek would have been as successful without you and Bo.
Further proof that God directs our paths when we trust Him.”

She nodded and
gazed into the distance. “I used to think I had a lot of trust, but since Doc
died I’m not so sure.”

He opened a can
of pop, the fizzy liquid tickling his nose and quenching his thirst. “Not sure
if you trust yourself or God?”

“Both. I think I
know what I’m supposed to do, but nothing seems to be working out the way I
thought it would. Did I hear Him wrong?” The words grew husky.

“I can’t answer
for you, but I’ll say this. In my own life, there’ve been times when I followed
my own way only to reach a dead end.”

She removed her
hat and leaned against the gnarly bark of an oak. “I’m
not
following my
own way. At least I don’t think I am.” Her eyes grew dark. “What do you think?”

His neck hair
bristled. Red alert. Danger zone. How was he supposed to answer her question
without landing himself in a heap of trouble? He sent a quick prayer for help.
“From my perspective, you seem mighty determined to exert your independence.”

Her frown morphed
to a scowl. “There’s nothing wrong with being independent. I think God expects
us to do our part.”

“I agree, but
independence can be a real hindrance to trust. I mean, if we can handle it
ourselves, then why do we need God?”

Trish ducked her
head, obviously a million miles away. When she looked up, it wasn’t at him.
“Bo, come eat some lunch.”

Bo grabbed a
handful of food, then headed back to the creek. Trish’s eyes followed him, a
contented smile at play on her lips. “He’s like a different kid today. The way
he used to be.”

“I notice a
change in you, too.” He grabbed a chicken leg from the baggie and nibbled on
it.

“Me?” She sounded
surprised.

He picked up a
nearby acorn and flicked it at her. It hit her arm and bounced to the blanket.
“Yes, you. It’s good to see you smile. And I think your enjoyment of the day
means more to Bo than you realize.”

“How so?”

He licked his
mouth and tossed the chicken bone toward the creek for the critters to enjoy.
“For a while there, I was afraid you might let your work take precedence over
Bo.”

“I have to
support my son.”

How could he warn
her of the danger without revealing too much? “I know, but he’s already lost
his father. He doesn’t need to lose you, too.”

Trish grew
pensive. After several tense moments, she finally spoke. “You have no idea how
hard it is to be mother, father, and sole breadwinner.”

“You’re right. I
don’t.” He met her direct gaze. “But trust me when I say I know how Little Bo
feels.” He’d lived through it, and still had the scars to prove it. The two
situations might look different from the outside, but the results were the
same. A very confused little boy.

Again she was
silent, but her eyes perused his face until the scrutiny unnerved him and made
him glance away. She pelted him with an acorn to garner his attention, a
teasing smile at play on her lips. “Payback. Tell me about your childhood.”

Andy scooped up
the acorn she’d thrown, but this time hurled it toward the creek. “Not much to
tell.”

“Well, you had
one, didn’t you?”

“I guess.” Why
was she pushing him?

“Tell me about
your family.”

“Maybe some other
time.”

Her expression
took on hurt. She frowned, then rose to her feet and meandered to the creek.

He pressed his
lips together. There was no way to explain his background. She came from a good
family—well-respected members of the community—the same kind of people who
looked down on people like him. Telling her would only lead to trouble.

Andy stood,
picked up the lunch leftovers, and sauntered back to his horse. His cell phone
vibrated in his pocket. “Hey, Matt.”

“Hi, bro. You
might wanna sit down.”

His heart
thudded. “Why?”

“I just got word
that Lester Hathcock passed away from a massive heart attack.”

Chapter 16

T
rish gasped at the
time displayed on the Morganville National Bank marquis. She’d never make it
home in time. Scurrying to her parked Suburban, she pitched her portfolio,
day-planner, and purse into the passenger seat. Though it was only early June,
the inside of the car was an oven. She sniffed. Something in the backseat was
definitely cooked. Eew! With sweat beading on her forehead, she zipped out of
the parking space and headed to the highway. So much for her resolution to
prove to Andy she could be a mom and a businesswoman.

Their
conversation on Saturday had left her feeling more inadequate than ever, but
she was determined to prove him wrong. She
could
have a career without
sacrificing her son. A car honked and cut her off. Her hands gripped the
steering wheel. “Crazy driver!” She muttered the words and tapped her brakes.

There’d been
nothing from Andy all week—no phone calls, no ball practice, no visits. After
the picnic, they’d practically galloped all the way back to the barn, and he’d
left in a hurry with a quiet mention to Trish that a friend had died.

She flipped on
her blinker and edged into a turn lane. What was there about his past that he
felt compelled to hide? The annoyance and hurt she’d felt on Saturday returned.
He knew more about her current situation than her family, but clammed up after
one question about his.

As she topped the
hill, a long snake of cars came into view. Just great. Her frustration mounted,
then she remembered her promise to Bo to count to ten when she felt angry. She
took a deep breath.
One. Two. Three.
Where was her cell phone? She
rummaged through her purse contents with her free hand, alternately searching
for the phone and keeping an eye on the traffic. Her fingers curled around
something rectangular. She pulled out a container of breath mints, popped one
in her mouth, and continued to dig. Found it! She hit speed-dial.

“Dad, sorry I’m
late. I’m running behind, but I’m on my way.” Traffic crept to a standstill,
and her air conditioner now spewed the rancid odor of car exhaust.
Four.
Five.

“I was supposed
to be somewhere ten minutes ago.” He sounded grumpy.

Maybe her good
news would put him in a better mood. “I lined up two clients in Morganville.”

“Hmph.”

So much for that
idea.
Six. Seven.
“I’m stuck in traffic, but it’s starting to move.” If
five miles an hour was considered moving.

“You’re in
Morganville? Still?”

She grimaced.
“I’m sorry. Listen, Bo needs to be at the ball field at 5:30. Could you get him
dressed? That way when I get there I can take him straight to town for his
game.” She, on the other hand, would be in a business skirt, heels, and
pantyhose. Not fun in ninety-degree heat.

“I’ll get him
dressed, but we’ll be at Beth’s. Bye.”

The phone
clicked. Mama Beth’s again? Like a cluster of spiders, uneasiness tickled her
spine, but she forced it away and scratched her neck. Oh well, it would make Bo
less late if she didn’t have to drive to the ranch to pick him up. Relentless
questions continued to circle and gave no rest. Over the past few weeks her
family had all but deserted her. She saw them at church and Sunday lunch, but
that was about it. Perhaps a move to Austin
would
be best.

Traffic crawled
as minutes ticked by.
Eight. Nine.
Finally, she reached a passing lane
and zoomed around the other cars.

Trish’s cell
phone buzzed. She grabbed it and pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl!” Her
best friend’s standard greeting, spoken in typical exuberance.

“Delaine, guess what?
I just lined up two design jobs.”

“Good. Tell me
more.”

Trish quickly
outlined the two jobs. “It’s not much, but at least it’s a start.”

“Well, it’s
something, I guess.” Delaine didn’t sound convinced, and Trish pictured her
doing her nails on the other end, completely bored by Trish’s small-town life.
“Do you have any plans for this weekend?”

“No. Bo’s t-ball
game is tonight, so the weekend is free. Why?”

“I miss you. Why
don’t you bring Little Bo down for the weekend so we can have some girlfriend
time?”

Trish thought
about the pressure she’d been under. Self-imposed, to be sure, but still it
would feel good to get away for a mini-vacation. Maybe Delaine could help her
sort through some of her confused feelings about Andy. “Sounds heavenly.”

“Great!”

Realization
dawned. Where would she get money for gas and food? She could ask Dad just this
once, and when Andy’s new office was finished she’d pay him back. “Tomorrow’s
the last day of school, so Bo gets out early. We’ll leave right after I pick
him up.”

The conversation
ended, and Trish chunked the cell phone onto the passenger seat, sneaking a
quick glance at the time. The traffic jam had thrown her even further behind.
She pressed the accelerator. Not two minutes later, a siren sounded, and in her
rearview mirror red and blue lights flashed.

Her heart sank.
Ten.

* *
* * *

Andy gazed at the
packed parking lot, hands on his hips. Families migrated toward him. Excited
boys outfitted in baseball uniforms scurried to their respective dugouts while
moms and dads wrestled younger children from their car seats and chatted about
their day and what they’d have for supper. He, on the other hand, stood alone,
a deserted island in the midst of an ocean.

Where were Trish
and Bo? Only a few minutes remained before the game started, and he’d hoped to
have time to ask them to the Morganville end-of-school carnival tomorrow night.

Yesterday’s
funeral inundated his memory. He released a heavy sigh and studied the ground
while pins pricked his eyes. Lester had been more than a friend—more like the
father he’d never had—his life a shining example of all that Andy longed to be.
And it all started with helping Bo.

Life was brief.
Too brief. Lester’s unexpected death proved it. There was no time to squander.
He wanted a family, and not just any family. No one would do except a sad-eyed
mother with a gorgeous smile, and a pint-sized bundle of father-starved boy.
There was no denying the truth. He cared about them both.

Andy removed a
rolled-up bag of sunflower seeds from his back pocket and deposited a handful
of the salt-covered kernels in his cheek, then sauntered to the dugout to
prepare the kids for the game. “Everyone have their gloves and caps?”

A chorus of
replies all sounded at once. Hopefully they were affirmative. “Brody, if Bo
doesn’t make it I want you to play first base.”

Brody’s typical
cocky attitude took over and he swaggered toward a group standing near the
dugout entrance. “Hear that? Coach moved me to first base.”

“Brody!” Andy’s
sharpened voice pierced through the chatter. “More bragging like that will land
you on the bench.”

“Yes, sir.”

Andy’s eyebrows
shot up. Maybe he was finally getting through to the kid.