A Path Less Traveled (24 page)

She trudged to
the front door and knocked, Bo already long gone.

“Come on in,
Trish.” Mama Beth sang out the words, bustled toward the door, and engulfed her
in a hug. “How are you, dear?”

“Fine.” The
familiar lie burst from her lips, but she didn’t know what else to say that
wouldn’t cause her to dissolve in tears.

The older woman
skewed her lips to one side and studied her through narrowed blue eyes.
“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” she said kindly.

Trish stepped
toward the back room, the pine floors creaking beneath her feet, the scent of a
fresh-baked cake in the air. Even this old house was a part of her heritage—a
part of who she was. How much of her would be left with all the pieces she’d
leave behind once they moved to Austin?

Dad met her at
the doorway to the large eat-in kitchen and hugged her neck. “There’s my
beautiful daughter.” He crooned the words, rocked back and forth with her still
in his embrace, and kissed her cheek.

Dani and Steve
were close behind to greet her and give her a hug.

Andy stood on the
far side of the table, his frank green-eyed perusal sending off shivers down
her bare arms. He sent a half-smile and wave, which she returned with an equal
lack of enthusiasm.

Mama Beth clapped
her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Y’all have a seat and help me sing
‘Happy Birthday’ to the birthday boy.”

Little Bo’s face
beamed with the force of a thousand suns as they sang, and Mama Beth placed a
towering chocolate cake with six candles on the table. He smiled at the people
he loved. The people who loved him.

The bittersweet
moment brought tears to Trish’s eyes. This might well be his last birthday
party in Miller’s Creek. She reached up a hand to dab the tears, glancing
around to make sure no one noticed.

Andy’s gaze was
trained on her, his expression solemn, his eyes troubled and stormy.

“Happy Birthday
to you!” The song ended and Bo blew out all the candles in one breath, his face
a study in triumph.

Trish snapped a
photograph. Maybe one day she could paint the picture with the new brushes Andy
had given her. She longed to sneak a peek at Andy, but dared not. Instead she
turned toward her father.

The sight before
her sucked air from the room. Dad’s hand covered Mama Beth’s, and the look in
his eyes was one of unadulterated love.

Rage bubbled
inside. When had this happened? And why? Mom had been dead less than a year,
and Dad was already in love. With Mama Beth. And judging by the happy glow on
her face, she loved him, too. No wonder she hadn’t seen much of him lately.

She swallowed
against the rush of emotion and focused on her son, trying to erase the image
of Dad and Mama Beth from her mind.

Bo giggled as he
reached for the first gift and opened it, then squealed with glee. “Just what I
wanted!” He held up the video game he’d asked her for, jumped from the
ladder-back chair, and hurled himself into her brother’s lap. “Thanks, Uncle
Steve.”

“You’re welcome,
tiger. Aunt Dani picked it out.”

Bo peered over
Steve’s shoulder and shot Dani a huge grin. “Thanks, Aunt Dani.”

She smiled back
and patted his arm, then allowed her hand to rest on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re
welcome, sweet pea.”

Jealousy and
resentment swirled and mingled in Trish’s insides. She was tired of not being
able to give her son what he wanted. Tired of trying to make ends meet in a
place that had no use for interior designers. Tired of happy couples. She bit
her lip and battled more threatening tears. Why had God deserted her?

The rest of the
party passed in a fog, as if everything had been tainted by a gray wash she
could no longer paint over with high hopes and pipe dreams. Even Mama Beth’s
delicious chocolate cake and her son’s laughter couldn’t pull her from the
mist. Darkness had descended with Doc’s death, and now enshrouded her with such
intensity she doubted she could ever escape.

Dad cornered her
a few minutes later. “You okay, honey?”

She tried to
muster a feeble smile, but instead, bitterness spilled from her in words
designed to hurt. “Obviously not as good as you.” She growled the comment as
angry tears plopped to her cheeks.

His eyes and
mouth widened, revealing the pain her sharp tone inflicted. “What do you mean?”

“What’s with you
and Mama Beth? And why am I the last to know?” She sounded selfish and small,
but didn’t care one whit.

“I didn’t know
how to tell you. I was afraid you would react, well, like this.”

“Didn’t know how
to tell me what?”

Dad lowered his
gaze and took a deep breath. “I love her, Trish.”

“What about Mom?
It hasn’t even been a year—”

“I’ll always love
your mother. You know that.” He rubbed her arm.

Trish’s throat
cinched up so much she could barely speak. “Well, you have a strange way of
showing it.”

Mama Beth waddled
over, her expression etched with alarm. “Is everything okay?”

Unable to contain
the spitefulness that reigned within, Trish spun around to face her, fists
clenched at her side. “How long have you been waiting for my mother to die?”

The color drained
from Mama Beth’s face, but she said nothing.

“Thanks.” Trish
spat out the word. “You just confirmed my suspicions.”

“Trish!” Dad
spoke the word with censure she hadn’t heard since she was a teenager.

She hastily
gathered the presents Bo loved more than the ones she’d given him. Avoiding
Andy’s concerned gaze, she flew out the door and across the yard to get Little
Bo. Next stop, the grocery store, to pick up moving boxes.

* *
* * *

Andy sauntered
away from the futon he’d slept on for the past two months to get a closer look
at the painting he’d just hung on the wall. The small studio apartment didn’t
do Trish’s artwork justice. He couldn’t wait to hang the painting in his new
home. Maybe things would eventually work out with Trish, and he could hang it
where she could see how much he loved her. Then again, maybe not.

His thoughts
returned to last weekend’s birthday party. Though he hadn’t heard the words
Trish leveled at her father and Mama Beth, their strained faces and Trish’s
quick departure had spoken loud and clear. Yet one more reason for her to
leave.
Lord, help me find a way to reach her.

He studied the
precise detail in the painting more carefully. Her gift was undeniable. A gift
she seemed determined to ignore in favor of an interior design career. He
sensed she loved painting more, so why was she so focused on the Austin job?

Andy’s mind wandered
to their lunch together, her face animated as she’d excitedly relayed stories
about the kids at school. He shook his head in exasperation and eyed the clock.
Time to get to the ball field. If nothing else, maybe it would allow him extra
time with Bo and Trish.

Out of nowhere,
an idea popped into his head.
Yes, that might just work.

A smiled wiggled
onto his face. He grabbed the bat bag and his baseball cap, then headed out the
door singing the electric guitar lick from an old Eagles’ song.

Once at the ball
field, he went to work to get everything ready for the game. The Eagles had
settled into a comfortable routine now, and the team had gone undefeated. After
everything was set, he moved to the fence to wait for Trish and Bo.

A few minutes
later they pulled up, the knock of the car engine sounding from a block away.
That junker couldn’t last much longer. Not without a pile of money spent on
repairs. They parked, and Bo ran toward him, his face lit with a happy smile.

Andy scooped him
up in his arms, remembering the sad-faced little boy from a few weeks ago.
“Hey, buddy, how have you been?”

“Good. When are
we going horseback riding again?”

“Well, I came out
the other afternoon just for that very thing, but no one answered the door.”

With solemn eyes
Bo glanced around, his words hushed. “I know. Mom wouldn’t let me. She’s very
sad right now.”

Trish approached,
her gait slow and lifeless. She barely acknowledged his presence with a tight
tilt of her lips. Her face was pale and drawn, and in contrast, her eyes seemed
especially large and luminous.

“Hi, Trish.”

“Hey. You need
help in the dugout? If not, I’m headed to the stands.”

Andy shook his
head, his heart aching at her pain. “I don’t need help, but if you don’t mind
I’d like to talk to you alone.”

She stopped,
released a tired sigh, and turned weary eyes his way. “Okay.”

Andy slid Bo out
of his arms. “Go sit in the dugout, buddy. I’ll be there in a second.”

“’kay.” The boy
bounded off with a smile.

“I thought of an
idea I’d like to run by you.” He tried his best to inject his tone with
enthusiasm, but it was difficult when her face was as hard and unyielding as a
towering brick wall.

“What?” She
looked eager to escape.

“Well, after
hearing your stories about your teaching experience, I got to thinking. You love
painting. You love kids. Why not teach art lessons?”

Her flat
expression remained in place. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.” She gave a noncommittal
shrug and pivoted toward the stands, her shoulders slumped. “I’ll think about
it. Thanks.”

As she shuffled
away, his heart dropped to his stomach. She’d given up hope. Had he already
lost her?

The rest of the
evening went downhill from there. The Pirates had improved since the first game
of the season, and played as if invincible, while his team regressed to stupid
mistakes. During the last inning, the Pirates led 8-7, with two Eagle players
on base, and one out.

Andy stuffed a
handful of salty sunflower seeds in his mouth while Brody Clark headed to the
batter’s box. Little Bo waved from first base, his smile revealing a toothless
gap. A sudden wave of resentment washed over him. The son of his heart was
growing up before his very eyes.

Brody swung and
missed.

“Stre-ike One!”
The ump’s heavy Texas drawl split the air.

His thoughts
traveled to the weeks he’d spent caring for his dad. Almost every evening,
except for game nights, he’d gone to sit with him. His dementia had worsened,
as had the seizures. The doctors offered no hope of improvement.

“Stre-ike two!”
called out the umpire.

C’mon, Andy.
Keep your head in the game.
He glanced over his shoulder at Trish. She
hunched over, one arm curled around her waist, the other hand propping up her
chin, while she stared off into the distance.

Crack!
The
bat made contact, and Andy snapped his head around to see what had happened.
Brody raced full out toward first base, where Little Bo stood, frozen in one
spot.

“Run, Bo!” Andy
yelled at the top of his lungs, but it was too late.

The first baseman
scooped up the ball, stepped on the bag then tagged Little Bo for a double play.

Game over.

Andy came
unglued. He stomped toward Little Bo, the frustration taking over. “What were
you thinking? How many times have I told you to pay attention to what’s going
on around you?”

Bo’s bottom lip
quivered, and his eyes filled with tears. “I was paying ‘tention.”

“No you weren’t.
If you’d been paying attention, you’d have run to second base like you were
supposed to. What were you looking at anyway?”

“You and Mom.”
Tears spilled over onto his chubby cheeks.

Sharp-edged
slivers of guilt imbedded themselves in his heart. Andy dropped to one knee and
took Bo in his arms. An odd mixture of sweat and baby shampoo made its way to
his nose. “I’m sorry, buddy. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Why were you
looking at us?”

Sobs erupted from
the boy and his tiny shoulders began to shake. “I’m just tired of seeing you
both so sad.”

Chapter 21

“A
gainst You, and
You only, have I sinned.”
Trish read the words from her Bible again, their
startling clarity winding their way throughout her being. She
had
sinned.
Sinned by neglecting to be grateful for what God had given her. Even worse,
she’d blamed God and allowed bitterness to take root in her heart.

God, forgive
me and help me do better.
She thought back to her behavior over the past
couple of weeks. Shame washed over her. How had she allowed herself to slide
down the slippery slope of depression? While it was true she couldn’t control
the situation, she did have a choice in how she reacted. It all came down to
her choice. She could choose not to allow the horrid and difficult
circumstances to get her down. After all, God was still in control, and she
belonged to Him.

Trish glanced at
the words she’d penned before sitting down to read her Bible.

Art
Lessons Available

Taught
by Trish James at the

Community
Center

Call
555-5273 to enroll.

Would Andy’s
suggestion work? Part of her wanted to believe the idea was a good one, but the
hurt part of herself—the part that had seen disappointment after
disappointment—cautioned against getting her hopes up.

“Bo, are you ready
for practice?” Trish called out, then stood and meandered from the sofa toward
his room.

Bo met her in the
hallway, cap and glove in his hands. “Ready.” He grinned up at her, his eyes
twinkling with excitement.

The bittersweet
moment hit full force, and she caught her breath. Her baby was growing up. She
marveled at the difference she saw in him after only a few weeks. Andy deserved
all the credit. His influence was the gentle drip of love on the grieving heart
of a little boy without a daddy.