A Path Less Traveled (30 page)

“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.”

“Answering your own
phone these days?” Claire Windsor’s cool words sliced through him like a
blowtorch through butter.

Andy took a
breath and released it slowly. “Hello, Claire.” He pictured her sitting behind
an ornate mahogany desk, not one hair daring to step out of place. “May I help
you?”

“That remains to
be seen. I thought you’d want to know your friend cancelled her appearance in
the exhibit next month.”

He sat up ramrod
straight. Trish had backed out of the show? Why? He thought fast, his law
training kicking into gear. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.
Please keep her on the schedule, and I’ll do what I can from this end.”

“You must really
care about her.” Claire’s voice held an uncustomary softness.

“What do you
mean?”

“For one thing,
you’re answering your own phone in a back-roads Texas town when you had a
thriving practice in Dallas. Then you took the time to drive here with one of
her paintings. Now you’re going a step further when she clearly has no interest
in her art career.”

“She’s had a
rough road. I’m just trying to help. Besides, I truly believe she is interested
in her art career.”

“The line she fed
me was that she didn’t have time to paint. In case you haven’t heard, painting
is required to be a painter.”

The words slapped
him in the face. Trish told him she had several paintings ready to go. Had she
lied?

“Are you still
there?”

“I’ll check into
this, Claire, but please keep her on the schedule. I know several people who
have one of her painti—”

“Okay, whatever.
But if you let me down on this little deal, it will be the last time.
Understand?”

“Yeah.” He
clenched his lips and hung up the phone. Trish would have her art exhibit one
way or another. Now he just had to find a way to bring up the subject without
her knowing he’d been the one to approach Claire in the first place.

Chapter 27

“F
or someone who
doesn’t like people to be late, you’re sure doing a lot of it yourself here
lately.” Trish blurted out the words in a huff, then turned away from Andy to
gather the supplies to paint the office. They’d had no choice but to do the
work themselves, since crews were in short supply in the aftermath of the
tornado. Finding a time when both of them could be here had been almost
impossible. Thank goodness Steve had invited Little Bo to go fishing with him
for the day.

Andy sent an
apologetic grin. “Sorry I’m late, but things are just hectic right now. Let me
change clothes and we’ll get started. By the way, thanks for cleaning up the
place. It looks better every time I see it.”

Through narrowed
eyes, Trish watched him stride down the hall. Not once since the tornado had he
asked about her art. Instead, he seemed restless and distracted. Whenever she
questioned him about it, he deftly changed the subject.

She tightened her
ponytail. He might have a lot on his plate right now, but so did she. The clock
was ticking. School started in two short weeks. Trish nibbled the inside of her
cheek. She had to finish this job as soon as possible so she’d have time to
handle the details of the move to Austin—packing, locating a house and school,
and most importantly, securing a job.

Andy’s cheery
whistle sounded down the hallway, and with his usual loose-limbed gait he
swaggered up to where she knelt beside the paint cans. “So speaking of
painting, how’s it been going?”

She turned her
head away. Now was a fine time for him to ask.

His cell phone
jangled, and he removed it from the holster. “Sorry, Trish, I gotta take this.”
He strode back down the hall and leaned against an unpainted wall.

Trish studied
him. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his hushed voice and waving arms
screamed agitation.

A few minutes
later, Andy clicked his phone shut and shoved it back in the holster at his
hip, striding toward her with a dark thundercloud on his face. “Sorry, but I
gotta go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Without a further word of
explanation, he strode out the door leaving her alone. Again.

Her frustration
mounted, but she shoved it down. No sense in getting upset. The work had to be
done, and it was her responsibility—the job he’d paid her to do. With a sigh,
she popped open the lid on the bucket of slate gray and poured it in the tray,
the room immediately flooded with the heady odor of fresh paint. She moved to
the focal wall in Andy’s new office. First she cut in around the crown molding
and baseboard, then readied two rollers in case Andy made it back.

She’d just
layered her roller with paint when a voice she didn’t recognize called out from
the front door. “Hello. Anyone here?”

“I’m in the
back.”

A younger,
stockier version of Andy lumbered into the room with the same loose-limbed gait
and golden curls. He gave her a wide grin, his cheeks cherubic. “Wow, Andy,
you’ve changed!”

Trish laughed and
rose to her feet. She moved toward him with an outstretched hand, the paint
roller in the other hand. “I’m Trish. You must be Andy’s brother.”

“Matt.” He eyed
her paint roller. “Most women try to dye their hair to cover the gray. Not the
other way around.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your roller is
dripping gray paint in your hair.”

Her free hand
jerked to her head and landed in something wet. Just great. She laid the roller
on the edge of the tray and grabbed a nearby roll of paper towels. “Are you
always so witty?”

“Andy was born
with the looks, so I compensated for it with a sharp mind.”

Laughter erupted
from her while she attempted to remove the paint from her hair with a paper
towel.

He surveyed the
room. “Nice space. Andy left you to do this all alone?”

Trish sobered.
Alone seemed to be her new mode of operation. “Yeah, he took a phone call and
then left.”

“Here, let me
help. Maybe we can laugh our way through it.”

“Thanks.” She
handed him the roller she’d intended for Andy. “Is your brother expecting you?”

“Nah, I’m not a
control freak like he is. I just show up when I feel like it.”

“Ah, the free
spirit type.”

Matt struck a
thoughtful pose, his fingers stroking his chin. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it
up.” He resumed painting. “Doesn’t appear to do much good being any other way.
Too much stress.”

“Pretty astute
observation for a young guy like you. Oh, but I forgot, must be more of that
sharp mind.”

He let out a
hearty laugh.

They both grew
quiet, and the only sound was the rollers against the wall. Trish searched for
words to fill the void. Andy had mentioned something about Matt being in school
at Austin. “You’re still in school at the University of Texas, right?”

“I’m growing to
hate that word ‘still,’ but, yeah, to answer your question.”

“Sorry, I didn—”

He waved a hand.
“Forget it. I was being sarcastic again.” His shoulders hiked up. “I like
school. I see nothing wrong with being a perpetual student.”

Trish raised her
eyebrows. Spoken like someone who wasn’t the one doling out the money. “If you
can afford it.”

“Ouch. Now you
sound like Andy. My first love is actually music, but it’s hard to make a go of
that, so I’m also working on a counseling degree. That way I can help others
and support my music career.”

“Smart move and
one I totally understand. I love to paint, but I’m not sure it’s a good way to
pay the bills.”

Matt peered over
at her. “Cool. I take it you paint pictures, not just walls?”

Trish giggled. “I
don’t mind walls, but I much prefer a canvas. Walls are my way to make ends
meet, though that doesn’t seem to be working too well either.” She frowned. Why
had she brought that up?

He loaded more
paint on his roller. “So if you don’t mind my asking, do you work for my
brother, or is there some special relationship between you two that he hasn’t
clued me in on?”

Loaded question,
and she wasn’t about to go there. Kinda hard to have a relationship with one
party missing in action. “I’m his designer. We had a tornado here a few weeks
ago—”

“Tornado? Nice of
him to keep me informed.”

So she wasn’t the
only one being left out of the picture. “In his defense, he seems to be really
distracted lately.”

He stopped
painting, a troubled look in his eyes. “Could be something to do with Dad.” His
heavy sigh deflated his shoulders.

“Your dad?” But
Andy had said he was no longer in the picture. “Is something wrong?”

“Guess you could
say that. We haven’t seen him much over the past few years and just learned he
has alcohol-related dementia. If I know my brother, he’s killing himself trying
to fix things.”

Heavy
disappointment draped her heart. So that’s why Andy had been so busy. Mr.
Fix-It to the rescue again, only this time it wasn’t her he had to rescue. And
for some reason, he didn’t trust her enough to tell her the truth. The
realization sliced through her. “Sounds like y’all had a rough childhood.”

Matt nodded, a
sour expression on his face. “Our Mom left when I was just a baby. Andy’s been
the grown-up in the family since he was seven years old.”

Now heartache
replaced the disappointment, and tears swam in her eyes. She pictured a
child-sized version of Andy crying for his mom while trying to care for his
drunken dad and baby brother. Mama Beth’s words about Joseph rang in her mind.
They certainly proved true in this case. Andy had endured an awful lot of hurt
and suffering to become the man he was today. But why had he felt the need to
hide it?

* *
* * *

Later that day,
Trish unloaded the last of the boxes she’d picked up from behind the grocery
store, shut the trunk, and hurried inside to deposit them in the hallway.
Hopefully, she’d have time to pack a few things later tonight. She wandered back
to the kitchen and grabbed a banana to replace the lunch she missed while
painting Andy’s office. He’d finally returned just as she and Matt had finished
painting, and she’d made her exit to allow them time together.

After one bite of
the banana, a car pulled up outside, followed by two door slams. She moved to
the garage door and opened it to see Steve and one very happy little boy making
their way up the driveway.

“Look what I
caught, Mom!” Bo held up a stringer with four large-mouthed bass.

Ugh. Smelly fish
to clean. Trish resisted the urge to pinch her nostrils shut. “That’s my little
man, bringing home supper. Go put them in the sink and I’ll clean them while
you clean you.”

His face fell.
“Aw, Mom, why do I have to take a bath?”

Trish laughed.
“Number one, because you smell like fish and dirty little boy. Number two,
because I said so.”

“You always say
that.”

She patted his
cheek, one of the few areas not covered with grime. “That’s ‘cause I’m your
mom, and that’s what moms always say.”

As he scooted
into the house, she faced her brother with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Steve.
You made his day and mine. This allowed me to get some things crossed off my
to-do list.”

“My pleasure.”
Steve tipped his hat. “He’s a great kid, Sis. Sorry I haven’t been around much.
I’ll try to do better.”

Trish felt her
smile fade. “That’s kind of you, but we’re fine.” She considered telling him
about the more-than-likely move, but changed her mind, pretty certain he
wouldn’t take the news well. “Come in and I’ll fix you something to drink.”

“I can’t. I gotta
get on back to the house. Dani’s been by herself all day.”