A Path Less Traveled (4 page)

“Yes, ma’am.” He
opened her door and waited while she took a seat, then stepped to the other
side.

Trish ran her
fingers over the leather seat and ogled the dashboard. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. You want
the top up or down?”

“Down, of
course.” Her face lit as he lowered the canopy, a starry Texas night above
them. “The heavens declare the glory of God.”

“Huh?” Andy
started the car, put it in gear, and backed out of the parking space.

“A Bible verse I
learned as a child. It always comes to mind when I see daybreak, a sunset, a
rainbow, or the stars.” She tilted her head back against the seat and fastened
her eyes on the night sky, the fascination with his car long forgotten.

Andy chuckled to
himself. Pretty cool that the stars impressed her more than the Z. With the
people he ran with, that kind of woman was a rare find.

Beside him she
sighed, her face contented. “Thanks, Andy. I needed this. I can’t even express
how much.” She spoke the words so softly the wind almost whisked them away.

“Glad to come to
your rescue.”

Her shoulders
stiffened, and she wiggled up in the seat, the air suddenly charged with
tension. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Uh oh, whatever
he’d said had triggered some kind of female automatic-response mechanism. He
was in big-time trouble judging by her scowl and clamped jaw. “Nothing at all.”

In the near
darkness, her eyes glinted jet-black. Finally she spoke, anxiety loosening its
grip on his windpipe. “Why do guys always think they have to fix things?”

His eyebrows
notched up. “Fix things?”

“You know, the
old rescue-the-damsel syndrome.”

He chuckled. “You
mean the damsel in distress.”

“What makes you
think I’m in distress?”

Great. Another
impossible-to-answer question. “I think you do a marvelous job at covering up,
but—”

“Covering up?”
Her voice elevated.

“Your pain. Dani
told me about the accident.” Andy racked his brain for a way out of this mess.
The best thing to do was apologize. Even if you weren’t sure what you were
apologizing for. “Sorry if I said something to upset you. If you need to vent,
I’m a good listener.”

She didn’t answer
at once, but her stiff shoulders soon sagged. “I’m the one who should
apologize. I guess the stress of this wedding must be getting to me. But I have
to ask. What did I do to deserve this special treatment?”

“You were born.”
Her eyes held questions, so he continued. “I think God brings us what we need
at the right time. Maybe He allowed our paths to cross so I could help. And I
mean help, not rescue, if that’s what set you off.”

Her gaze softened
as he spoke, then she laughed and closed her eyes. For a while she didn’t
speak, but then released a sigh. “Doc was the love of my life. I knew the first
time I met him he was the man I wanted to marry. He was good and godly,
everything I’d always dreamed of in a husband.”

“So you asked him
instead of the other way around?”

She smiled.
“Let’s just say I convinced him I was the right woman.”

Andy chuckled,
but didn’t comment.

“Early last fall,
we bought a new stallion.” She hugged her arms close to her body, shuddered,
and released a breath, her voice strained. “We both cautioned Little Bo to stay
away from the horse, but we turned around for one second and he was in the pen.
Doc hurtled the fence to step between the horse and Bo.” Her breathing became
shallow, and her face twisted in torment. “The horse spooked and kicked . . .”

His heart ached.
God,
help her speak the words.

Her expression
contorted, but she continued. “Doc was in a coma the last month of his life,
struggling to live, but the doctors told me he’d never get better, so I gave
them permission to unplug the machines and told him it was okay to go on home.”
She brought fingers to her face, then eyed her hand, seemingly surprised by the
tears she found there. “A few minutes later he took his last breath.”

“No he didn’t, Trish.”

She cocked her
head, her eyes questioning.

He sent a soft
smile. “He didn’t take his last breath that day. Your husband took his first
real breath. In heaven.”

The silence
resumed. Had he upset her again? “I hope I didn’t offend you—”

“Not at all. I
believe with all my heart that Doc’s in heaven, but . . .”

“But what?”

She tossed her
head, her hair glinting with moonbeams. “I just can’t figure out why God took
him. We need him.” Her simple words carried an ocean of heartbreak, and the
waves crashed against his soul.

Chapter 4

S
aturday afternoon
before the wedding, Andy stood in the church parlor and studied a large-scaled
painting. The piece of art was the one redeeming feature of the room, a diamond
in the midst of dusty knick-knacks and avocado velvet.

In the painting,
a battered cowboy hat rested on a cedar post. Bluebonnets grew along a
barely-traveled rocky path, and the nearby barbed-wire fence was in sore need
of mending. He cupped his chin. Something about the painting reminded him of
his childhood at Grandpa’s farm.

“It’s beautiful,
isn’t it?” Steve moved up beside him and sipped steamy coffee from a white
Styrofoam cup, his gaze on the artwork.

“Not sure
beautiful is a strong enough term.” Andy mono-toned the words and turned back
to the painting to take in the intricate detail, down to the clump of prickly
pear cactus in the left foreground. The painting was definitely an original,
but there was no name, just an initial. “You know who painted this?”

“As a matter of
fact, I do.”

Andy’s interest
ratcheted up a notch, and his eyebrows followed. “Really? Will you share the
contact info? I’d like something similar for my office.”

Steve smiled. “I
can do better than that. I’ll introduce you to the artist.”

“Awesome.”

Steve’s grin
morphed into a chuckle. “Trish painted the picture. I’m sure she’d be happy to
give you one, since she’s given her artwork to people around here for years.”

His eyes widened.
Trish? A painter, too?

The tall cowboy
blew on his coffee, a whooshing sound that sent the smell spiraling toward
Andy. Then Steve took another sip and checked his watch. “Guess I’d better
high-tail it outta here. Dani informed me not to be any place where I might see
her today. Stupid rule, if you ask me.”

Andy laughed.
“Yeah, I think the guy consensus on the you-can’t-see-me-before-the-wedding
rule is pretty much the same wherever you live.” As Steve left the room, Andy
sauntered to the nearby coffee pot to pour a cup of coffee.

Trish entered,
chatting with a group of women, her hair done up with a few loose strands
curling down her neck.

He blinked. She
looked drop-dead gorgeous. With his eyes intent on trailing her, he over-filled
his cup and sloshed the burning liquid down one arm.
Ow!
He danced in
place, then grabbed a napkin, his attention back on Trish. He’d known her less
than twenty-four hours, and already he was so impressed it scared him spitless.

But why was he so
afraid? For one thing, he’d never met anyone so talented. Plus his last venture
into the world of women hadn’t worked out so well, leaving him more than a
little gun-shy. But scariest of all was the load of hurt she shouldered. How
could he help her through it without losing himself?

She met his gaze
and sent a charming smile that made his own lips curve upward. Then her
expression converted to a light scowl, and she turned her back. What had he
done this time?

Without thinking,
Andy slurped in a deep drink, the scalding coffee setting the top of his mouth
on fire. He resisted the urge to wave a hand in front of his mouth and sauntered
back to the painting, intent on not looking too dorky, or worse, too
interested. Better to play it cool. He swallowed, trying to rid the tinny taste
from what was left of his tongue.

Trish drifted
over to him. “You look a little more refreshed than you did last night. Mama
Beth’s bed and breakfast agrees with you.”

“I’m not the only
one who looks refreshed. Or should I say gorgeous?”

Her cheeks
colored to a dusky pink. “Thanks.”

Andy angled his
head toward the painting. “I understand you painted this.”

She nodded.

“Would you be
interested in painting one for me? I’d be happy to pay you well for your time.”

Her eyes clouded
and a vertical wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “Look, I truly appreciate
all you did for me yesterday, but you’ve atoned for your mistake.”

“Excuse me?”

Trish crossed her
arms and gave him a hard stare. “Knocking over the decorations was just
something that happened. You helped make it right, so don’t feel obligated.”

A short laugh
ripped from his throat. “Don’t flatter yourself, lady. I helped because it
looked like you needed help. Not because I was trying to make up for anything.”

“That’s not a
good reason either.” She shifted her weight to the other leg, her lips pinched.

Did girls attend
a special class to learn the ancient and indecipherable language of womanese?
“You’re mad ‘cause I helped? Wanna clue me in?”

Trish’s eyes
flashed like gold-flecked daggers. “I don’t want sympathy. From you or anyone
else.” She spat out the words, then spun around on one foot and marched from the
room.

Mouth hanging
open and hands on his hips, he stood there trying to decide his best course of
action. The group of women she’d chatted with a few minutes earlier had grown
silent and now stared. He let out a snort and stomped after Trish.

Out in the hall,
he found her by the sound of her shoes clicking against the floor. Stiff-armed,
she slung open the double doors with a bang that echoed down the empty tiled
halls.

He raced down the
corridor and out into the light. “Trish, wait up!”

She kept walking.

Andy quickened
his pace to reach her and latched onto her bare arm. “Hey, what’s this all
about?”

She stopped and
cocked her head to one side, missiling a sideways glare. “I don’t want people
to feel like they have to come to my rescue.”

“Is that what you
think I was doing?” He matched her gaze, squelching his desire to holler the
words. “Truth is, I enjoy your company. Truth is, I actually happen to love
your artwork. Truth is, you need to learn to let people help you instead of
pretending you’ve got your act together.”

Her eyes widened
like she’d been slapped, then took on an icy coldness. She pivoted and headed
back to the church.

Him and his big
mouth. Once again he chased after her.

“Trish, I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have made that last remark.”

Her shoulders
sagged. “The truth hurts.”

Andy didn’t know
how to respond, especially since he kept inserting his size 11s in his yapper.

Trish continued
to walk, but crossed her arms and looked away, her lower lip tucked between her
teeth. She took a ragged breath and faced forward. “I want so badly to prove I
can take care of myself and my son. I know there are lots of single parents out
there who are facing the same challenges as I am, but I never imagined it would
be this hard.” She hoisted her chin, but still didn’t meet his gaze, her eyes
filled with tears.

The sorrow on her
face yanked at his gut. She was trying her best, even if her reasoning was a
little skewed. He longed to tell her that she didn’t have to try so hard, but
it wasn’t his place to say so. And he definitely didn’t want to do anything
more to upset her. Not if he wanted to keep his head attached to his body.
“Take a walk with me?”

She nodded, her
arms folded across her waist.

Maybe a different
direction in the conversation would lessen the tension. “So what else do you do
besides plan weddings, paint pictures, and be a mama?”

“Well, earlier
today I let Coot railroad me into organizing the Chamber of Commerce banquet.”
Sarcasm leaked from her words, and she looked off in the distance, her face as
stony as the creek bed. “Sounds like a pretty puny resume, but I guess it
counts.” They took a few more steps, and Trish sighed. “You think it’s wrong
for me to want to take care of myself and Bo?”

Andy shook his
head. “It’s actually a very noble goal.”

“But?” Her
troubled gaze skipped across his face.

He steeled
himself with a quick breath. “But you can’t question people’s motives or shut
them out just because they want to help. Mind if I ask a personal question?”

She raked her
bottom lip against her teeth. “Okay.”

It really wasn’t
any of his business, but he wanted to know. “Did your husband have life
insurance?”

Her expression
flat-lined, and she didn’t speak for a long minute. “Yeah, but I accidentally
let it lapse while he was in the hospital.” Her words ended in a whisper.

Andy released a
silent breath between his lips, fairly certain she’d entrusted him with
information her family didn’t know. He sensed her eyes on him, so he sent a
reassuring smile.

“Please don’t say
anything to Dani or Steve. I don’t want them to know.” Her plea was tinged with
panic.

Why was she
hiding the news from her family? He longed to ask, but judging by the concern
on her face, she’d most likely reached her quota on sharing personal info.

They strolled in
silence for a few more steps, the spring day smelling of sunshine and blossoms.
Trish stopped in her tracks. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

Not what he
expected. There were some things he refused to share with anyone. No matter how
pretty she was. “Okay.”

Doe-like eyes latched
onto his. “Did you really want to buy my art, or—?”