A Path Less Traveled (23 page)

“She won’t sell,”
he wheezed once he reached the bench.

“Did she say
why?”

“Something about
how she planned to give the painting to someone, but she’d take orders to paint
another one just like it.”

Andy peered
around a low-hanging branch. Trish looked utterly dejected. Her shoulders
slumped and she hung her head. He turned back to the man.

“Let’s try again.
Let her know you really want the painting, but you need it now. Tell her you’ll
give her half the money now and send her the other half later.”

The man gasped.
“The painting’s beautiful, but it’s not worth that much money.”

“It is to me.”

The older man’s
expression changed from incredulity to soft understanding. “I’ll do what I
can.”

Andy watched the
scenario unfold from the safety of his pecan tree. His new friend gestured and
talked while Trish listened intently.

She hesitated as
if mulling over the man’s words, then reluctantly nodded. Henry handed her the
cash, which she put in a bank bag. Then she gave him a business card and
removed the painting from its hanger. The man thanked her and shook her hand
before scurrying back.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks so much.
You’ll never know how much I appreciate this.” He took the painting then
reached out to grasp the man’s hand.

“Oh, I think I
know.”

Andy smiled.
“How?”

The man glanced
over at the park bench, where his wife unloaded an array of multi-colored bags.
His eyes misted and a soft smile curved his mouth. He nodded toward his wife.
“That’s how.”

Chapter 19

T
rish did a
double-take when she spied Andy from a block away. He paced outside the
developing shell of his new office in a dark suit, his blond curls tousled by
the breeze. The sight took her breath away. She could no longer deny her
attraction—spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally—there was nothing
about him she didn’t like. Even more than her family, he’d been a support
system and source of constant encouragement for her and Bo, his Christ-likeness
shining like a beacon in a dark storm.

The one traffic
light in Miller’s Creek flashed to red. She braked to a stop and stifled a
cough, the fumes from the diesel pickup directly ahead of her strong enough to
choke a horse.

Andy had kept his
distance for a couple of weeks, but over the past week, he’d been more
attentive, more like the Andy she’d desperately missed. She moistened her lips
and rested an elbow on the car door. What made the situation especially
difficult to bear was his attraction to her. She felt it every time he was
near. Felt his gaze on her. Noticed his tenderly-spoken words and the soft
sheen in his eyes. To his credit, he never mentioned his feelings, never once
pressured her.

A heavy sigh
escaped. She’d love to reveal her own growing attraction, but it wouldn’t be
fair to offer either one of them the hope of a relationship. Not when
everything pointed toward a move to Austin.

Sometimes
trusting God meant launching out in faith. And for her that leap of faith
possibly included leaving Miller’s Creek. She brought a hand up to rub away the
tension building behind her eyes. Only one painting had sold in Morganville
last weekend—the one she’d planned to give Andy.

At least it had
been a big sale. The proceeds had covered the house mortgage and utility bills.
Hopefully, with her next paycheck for Andy’s job, she’d be able to pay off her
debt to Otis and have a little left over for the move.

The light turned
green, and she pressed the accelerator. She had no other design jobs lined up,
and the mental stress of not being able to provide for Bo was wearing her down.
But she refused to become a burden to her family.

As she pulled
into the parking lot, Andy met her, his dimpled grin wreaking havoc with her
resolve to appear disinterested. He opened the car door. “Well, don’t you look
all business-like today?” His gaze rested on her hair, which she’d pulled back
away from her face.

“That’s what I
call curb-side service.” Trish smiled briefly, then reached for her digital camera,
notepad, and measuring tape. She exited the car, sucking in a deep breath to
slow her racing pulse.

“Anything for
you.” He gave a mock bow.

She ignored the
gesture and faced the new building. “Shall we?”

He motioned with
one arm. “After you.”

They traveled
from room to room discussing furniture layout, and confirmed the color choices
for each space. Andy helped measure the rooms for flooring and the windows for
draperies. Within the hour they were finished.

Trish turned
toward him. “I think that gives me everything I need. I’ll get things started
so we can get you moved in before the Chamber banquet.”

Andy shifted his
weight to the opposite foot and glanced at the floor before peering back up at
her. “Could I interest you in lunch at Soldano’s?” The words were spoken with
slight hesitation.

She searched for
a way to say no, but just couldn’t bring herself to destroy the hope in his
eyes. “Sounds nice.”

His face lit up.
“Great! I’ll give you a ride.” He grabbed her hand and led her to his car, her
heart pounding so fast she could barely breathe. Why, oh why, hadn’t she told
him no?

* *
* * *

Andy could hardly
contain his jubilation as he hustled around the car to open Trish’s door. This
was his chance. He’d hoped for an opportune moment to tell her how he felt, had
prayed for it. He warred with a sudden attack of nerves. He could do this. God
had brought him this far and wouldn’t desert him now.

Once inside
Soldano’s, the air awash with the aroma of grilled chicken, enchiladas, and
sopapillas, Gracie Soldano led them through an archway and seated them in the
front near a large plate glass window that overlooked a lush garden. The lunch
crowd had almost dissipated, and they were virtually alone. Perfect.

He pretended to
study the menu, knowing full well he’d order the chicken fajitas like he always
did. Andy thought through what he wanted and needed to say. While part of him
wanted to blurt out his feelings and get it over with, it would be better to
wait until after they’d eaten. Maybe by then he could work up his courage.

“So how’s your
work going?” Trish sipped her iced water.

“Can’t complain.
More than enough to keep me busy.” A solemn expression covered not only her
face, but inched its way into her posture and dark eyes. “How about you? Dani
told me you entered some of your artwork in a show at Morganville.” Sneaking
around behind her back to buy the painting still made him feel like a creep—no,
make that a creep and a stalker.

“Not really a
show. It was the Morganville Trade Days.”

Gracie swished up
in her traditional Mexican dress, plunked down a basket of fresh tortilla chips
and salsa, and took their order.

After she left,
Andy returned his attention to Trish. “How’d you do?”

“I only sold one
painting.” She lowered her gaze, her tone flat. “I guess I shouldn’t complain.
I got a lot for it. The one you really liked.”

“Good for you.”
How could he best encourage her? “Don’t be upset, Trish. There are other ways
to get your work out there. Keep trusting God.”

“I’m trying, but
His plans seem to be different from mine.” She blinked rapidly, then stared out
the window, her mind obviously somewhere else.

The softly-spoken
words spawned fresh fear in his heart. What if he bared his soul only to have
her disappear like every other woman in his life? He shook off the thought.
Love was a risk—a risk he was prepared to take when it came to Trish.

Their meal
arrived a few minutes later, and Andy delved into the creamy guacamole. Amid
bites of the delicious food, the conversation relaxed into comfortable chatter
about various subjects from the baseball team to Trish’s one-day stint as a
substitute teacher near the end of the school year.

Andy couldn’t
keep his eyes off her while she relayed the teacher story. The hard edge of
disappointment was replaced by animation, and laughter now sparkled in her
eyes.

Trish continued
to chatter away. “The lesson was on healthy breakfast foods. I asked the
first-graders what they liked to eat for breakfast. One little boy raised his
hand and said ‘blueberry Muppets.’”

They both laughed
out loud.

Their eyes met,
and Trish shyly lowered her head. “I’ve really enjoyed our lunch today, Andy.
For just a little while it helped me forget my problems, and for that, I thank
you.”

Andy gulped in a
big breath. “I have something I’d like to give you.” He reached in his jacket
for the gift he’d ordered, pulled the package from his pocket, and pushed it
across the table toward her.

She sighed and
tucked her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes sad again. “I can’t. You’ve
already given me so much.”

“Like what?”

“Like my son
back. I’m not sure he would’ve made it through all his psychological problems
if it weren’t for you. If anyone deserves a gift, it’s you.”

He laid a hand on
top of hers. “It was my privilege and honor to help. I’ve enjoyed every minute
I’ve spent with both of you.”

Again she lowered
her eyes, and this time allowed them to rest on the gift. She seemed
apprehensive about accepting it.

“Please take it,
Trish. It would mean a lot to me.”

She met his gaze
and attempted a smile, then nodded.

Time slowed as
she withdrew her hand from beneath his, carefully undid the tape on the
package, and lifted the box lid to reveal the wooden box inside. Carved into
the lid was the verse,
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not
into your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall
direct your paths.”

Trish drew back
with a sharp intake of air.

“Something
wrong?”

She glanced up,
mouth half open, the area above her eyes wrinkled. “No, it’s lovely. It’s just
a special verse to me—one that God seems to keep directing me to.”

Andy’s breath
caught in his throat. Her too?

Her expression
still held heavy sorrow. She lifted the lid of the box to uncover the
collection of artist’s brushes he’d placed inside. Fingers shaking, she gently
stroked them. “These are expensive. I’m not sure I can accept them.”

“Please. I
believe in the God-given ability you have. I-I wanted to encourage you to keep
painting and keep trusting.”

She studied him a
while longer—almost as if memorizing his face—then gave a tentative nod. “Thank
you.”

His heart
galloped, half in joy, half in apprehension. He swallowed hard and reached
across the table to take her hands in his own. “Trish, I want you to know how
special you are to me. I’d be honored if you’d allow me to . . . to . . .” To
what? How did he put into words that he wanted to spend every spare second with
her?

Trish yanked her
hands away, her chocolate-drop eyes swimming with tears. “Andy, I wish things
could be different. I really do. But somehow the timing seems all wrong. Not
just because of Doc’s death, but because of where I am in my life.” A tear
escaped and slid down her right cheek. She raised fingertips to swipe it away.
“I’m not sure I can make it in Miller’s Creek. If something doesn’t change
soon, I’ll be forced to move to Austin. Under those circumstances, it wouldn’t
be fair to either of us to allow this to progress any further.”

Chapter 20

W
hat a lousy birthday this had
turned out to be. Bo’s first birthday without his daddy, and Trish hadn’t had
the time or money to throw a big party.

She peered in the
rearview mirror at her son’s sad eyes and pouting lips. He hadn’t been pleased
with either of the gifts she’d given him, and she understood why. Bo had asked
for only one thing—a video game—but she didn’t have that kind of money. Instead
she’d purchased a football and a stuffed horse like the one Dr. Wyse had in her
office. Seeing his fallen face had just about done her in.

Now—on this
beautiful Saturday afternoon in June when she’d rather be painting—they were on
their way to Mama Beth’s house for a family birthday party. Ever since Dani had
entered the family, it seemed like they were always going to Mama Beth’s for
some event or celebration.

She steered into
the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tires of her Yield-sign-yellow
rattletrap. In sharp contrast, Andy’s sleek silver sports car sparkled in front
of her.

Trish frowned and
pressed her lips together. She’d managed to keep things on the
friendly-slash-professional side since the incident at Soldano’s, but rather
than the normal easygoing conversation they once shared, everything now felt
stilted and awkward. It was difficult enough to be around him during t-ball
games and at the job site. Now she had to deal with him at intimate family
functions as well? She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. This
wouldn’t be easy, but she’d somehow muddle through for her son.

“Why are we
here?” Bo poked his head up from the back seat.

“It’s a
surprise.”

His face
brightened. “What is it?”

“Well, it
wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

He released his
seat belt, bounded from the car with a whoop, and headed for the picket fence
gate. She slammed her car door and followed, attempting to psych herself up for
the party, the inevitable move from Miller’s Creek also weighing heavy. In
spite of months of financial hardship and her memories of the accident and
happier times, she still loved this place. Still called it home. And bit by
bloody bit, it was being ripped from her grasp. Would life ever be the same
once they left?