A Path Less Traveled (5 page)

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it
obvious?” He searched her face. It
wasn’t
obvious—at least not to her.
“Your painting is one of the most beautiful pieces of art I’ve ever seen, and
I’m not just feeding you a line because I feel sorry for you or want to help. I
really want to buy a painting.”

Trish resumed
walking, but said nothing, her forehead puckered.

Andy stuck his
hands in his jean pockets, his fingers scraping against the car keys. “You
gonna make me beg?”

“No.” She clipped
the word short.

His exasperation
climbed, taking his pulse along for the ride. “Excuse me for being an obtuse
guy, but I don’t get it. You need money to support your son. You have an
undeniable gift. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you should
do.”

Her face
reddened. “I can’t paint anymore, all right? I’ve tried, but nothing comes
out.” She choked out words, and tears pooled in her eyes. “I’d love to paint
again, but when Doc died he took that part of me with him, and no matter how
hard I try, I can’t get it back.” She bolted for the red brick church building
like a frightened deer, her sandals clicking against the pavement.

Chapter 5

H
eart heavy, Trish
plopped down on the steps in the sanctuary and cupped her face with her hands.
After her most recent round of emotional backwash, it wouldn’t surprise her one
bit if Andy steered clear during the rest of the festivities.

Of all the times
for her fickle feelings to dump themselves in the streets of Miller’s Creek for
public display. Why this weekend? And why Andy?

The afternoon
sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows and washed the room with a
cacophony of color. A boatload of flowers costing a yacht-full of cash had been
delivered earlier, and she’d spent the morning adding floral touches throughout
the room. Now stargazer lilies, white and pink baby roses, and
lily-of-the-valley graced the archway and ends of the pews, spilling their
fragrance into the air.

Mom would have
been so pleased with the decorations.

She hugged her
knees to her chest and released a slow breath in an attempt to steady her
nerves. Why, oh why, had she told Andy about the life insurance? While it felt
good to share her burden with someone besides Delaine, it also rattled her
bones with fear. Could she trust him not to tell Dani?

The side door
opened, and Andy entered the room, concern stamped on his features. “If you
don’t want me here, just say so.”

Trish shook her
head. “No, I want you to stay.”

He trudged closer
and sank to the floor beside her. “I’m really sorry, Trish. I had no way of
knowing about your painting. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you. It’s a
miracle I can talk at all, considering I keep inserting both feet in my mouth.”

“It’s not your
fault. You didn’t know.” The AC groaned and rattled, a sudden draft of cold air
blasting from the nearby floor vent. She rubbed her bare arms against the
surfacing chill bumps.

“Don’t give up on
your painting. You’re too good. Give it time. It’ll come back.” The intensity
in his emerald green eyes made his words almost believable. Then his left cheek
dimpled in a lop-sided grin. “But when that time comes, I’d better be your
first client.”

Trish attempted a
feeble smile, but couldn’t muster a comeback. A holy hush descended.
Oh,
God, don’t let this moment of peace end.
How tranquil to sit surrounded by
the soft scent of flowers in quiet companionship. How rare and precious.

No,
sacred
.

Andy’s sonorous
baritone broke the silence. “I love these kinds of moments when God surprises
me with . . .”

“. . . with
beauty?”

His soft gaze
quickened her pulse. “Yeah.” He bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Those times when you feel like you’re drowning in grace.”

“I know exactly
what you mean.” Though it had been an eternity since she’d felt it—until today.
She leaned back on one arm to view him better. Knowing that he knew God gave
her hope that he’d keep her secret. “So how long have you been a Christian?”

He wagged a
finger. “Wrong question. You should’ve asked how long I’ve been a committed
Christian.”

“Okay. How long?”

His well-shaped
lips pressed together, and he laced his fingers. “I gave my life to Christ when
I was young and pretty much lived it during my growing up years. Then in
college I wandered away.”

“What brought you
back?”

Andy gave her a
teasing, sideways glance. “You always so nosy?”

“It’s my turn.”

“Touché.” He
grinned, then continued. “Actually, the situation with my fiancée brought me
back. The whole experience served as wake-up call.” His tone was firm and to
the point, and his eyes widened in sincerity. “I realized how close I’d come to
marrying an unbeliever. I knew I needed to get right with God before I messed
up a bunch of people’s lives, including my own.”

Trish stared at
him a few seconds, impressed with his wisdom and at home in the honesty between
them. Surely he was trustworthy. Besides, he lived in Dallas, not exactly a
prime location for sharing her life-altering goof with people in Miller’s
Creek. Except for Dani. “So what’s next for the great Andy Tyler?”

“Well, Andy’s
waiting on God to show him. Quite honestly, being back in Miller’s Creek has
kinda made me long for my small-town roots. I’ve been thinking about a move.”

Her stomach sank
while her eyebrows rose. Surely not to Miller’s Creek. “You . . . uh . . . 
grew up in a small town?”

“Yep. Berringer.”

Berringer wasn’t
that far away.  “Really?”

He turned a
quizzical look her way. “That so hard to believe?”

Trish was at a
loss for words. “I—I guess not. You just seemed so cultured, and I thought—”

“Me, cultured?”
He gave a curt laugh. “I’m not the one with all the artistic talent.”

The hall door
swung open, and Mama Beth bustled into the room, her carefully coiffed gray
curls indicating a recent visit to Jolene at Country Cutz and Curlz. “There you
are! Do you two have any idea what time it is?”

Trish checked her
watch. Already 5:00? Mama Beth continued to click her tongue and scold, then
exited through the same door she entered.

Andy chuckled,
rose to his feet, and held out a hand to help her stand. “Guess we’d better get
ready before the boss lady gets even more perturbed.” He stretched his neck
upward and scratched the area under his chin. “But I was sure hoping to wait
until the last minute to put on that tux.”

* *
* * *

Trish would’ve
never guessed the entire population of Miller’s Creek could scrunch into every
last square inch of the sanctuary. She stood at the back of the church, with
only a few precious minutes to spare. Shoulder to shoulder the townspeople sat,
dressed in their finest, a vivid reminder of why she loved this town.

A spark of hope
ignited her insides, and she prayed that somewhere in the midst of this
congregation was at least one person who needed her services. Then, as an
afterthought, she added,
And please help me keep my unpredictable emotions
under control.

Chubby fingers
tugged on her hand, and she glanced down into the liquid brown eyes of her son.
Trish swished the silken hem of her pale pink bridesmaid dress out of the way
and knelt to give him a hug. “Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good time with Uncle
Steve and Papaw?”

“Yeah.” His voice
was breathy with excitement, and his face took on that glow of wonder only
found on the face of a child. “And Andy helped me with my catching. I think I
can do it now.”

“Andy helped
you?” When had he had the time?

A stocky pair of
man legs with pants cropped much too short stepped beside them, patent black
shoes a-gleam below black-socked ankles. She pulled herself to a standing
position.

“See? Helping
someone is supposed to be a good thing.” His tone held a challenge. The slow
glance he took at her attire sent quick heat scurrying to her cheeks. “And
please don’t think I’m feeling sorry for you or anything, but you look
stunning.”

His comment sent
pleasure rippling through her, but she had no intention of letting him know,
especially since he’d already witnessed her earlier emotional meltdown. Instead
of a comeback, she smiled her thanks and made sure everyone was in place. A few
minutes later, she stepped up beside Andy and sniffed.

“What?” His brow
puckered.

“I smell
peppermint.”

He peeled back
his lips to reveal a piece of chewed gum balanced between his teeth.

She shook her
head and held a hand beneath his chin. “Oh no, you don’t. Spit it out.
Absolutely no gum on stage. The last thing Dani and Steve want in their wedding
video is a cud-chewing groomsman.”

“Make that a
cud-chewing groomsman in a penguin suit,” he said, his teeth still clenched.

Trish waited for
him to begrudgingly release the gum, then moved to a nearby trash can. She
arrived back in position just as the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s
Canon
in D
. She hooked her arm in Andy’s, and they stepped toward the
light-encrusted arch of white tree branches.

Trish leaned her
head toward his. “By the way, please don’t think I’m feeling sorry for you or
anything, but I absolutely adore those knickers you’re wearing.”

He turned his
head toward her, his jaw agape. Camera flashes exploded from every angle as
they stepped under the branches and laughed their way down the aisle.

Trish glimpsed
Steve at the front of the church and immediately sobered.

He shot a quick
wink, and then rocked back and forth on his heels, his gaze raised in hopeful
anticipation.

Her heart swelled
with joy. After years, he’d finally found the woman he’d waited for his entire
life. The thought somehow brought comfort. The intensity of the pain she’d
experienced over the past several months wouldn’t last forever. There was a
brighter tomorrow. Right?

Once on stage,
she turned to face the audience. The sight of Little Bo marching down the aisle
made her insides cringe. Why did he suddenly seem so small? What was she
thinking? Her baby was much too young for this. She blinked, and an image of
him fifteen to twenty years down the road flashed to mind, only now he was a groom.
A day she didn’t want to face alone.

Trish shook off
the troubling thought and watched her son proceed between the pews, the flower
girl’s tiny, gloved hand in his. He took his place beside his Uncle Steve,
setting off a wave of motherly pride.

The Wedding
March
fanfare sounded, and the congregation rose to a flurry of flashes as
Dani glided between the light-clad trees, her beaded lace dress rippling as she
floated down the aisle. Her happy smile was focused entirely on her groom.

A sudden stab of
jealousy forced Trish to lower her head. But when she finally fought off the
feelings and lifted her chin, she made the costly mistake of looking at Andy.
His gaze was trained on her, and it set off a powerful thump in her chest.
Though it took every last ounce of the puny strength she had left, she forced
her attention to the wedding and attempted to ignore the sight of Andy in her
peripheral vision.

Try as she might,
her thoughts were plagued by his presence. Good gravy, why were her emotions
bouncing around like a yo-yo? The wedding—that had to be it. Weddings were a
celebration of true love, something every female heart craved. Well, she
already had a true love. He’d just gone home ahead of her.

The dam she’d
built around her heart to contain the ever-constant threat of tears wobbled,
and a slight crack formed. No! She wouldn’t cry and ruin this wedding. Trish
sucked in a deep breath. Her resolve clung with razor-edged claws to the soft
flesh of her heart, and bit by bloody bit, the unwelcomed emotions oozed away.

A few minutes
later, Dani and Steve locked hands and gazes as Brother Mac read from his
Bible.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own
understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your
paths.”

A jolt shivered
down her back. She felt it again—a sacred moment of God’s presence. What words
had Andy used? She closed her eyes. Drowning in grace. The verse she’d known
since childhood exhorted her not to lean on her own understanding, but to
trust.

Easy to say. But
actually doing it?

She lifted a
silent prayer heavenward. Never had she had to lean on Him—to trust Him—like
now. And oh, how she yearned for Him to direct her path. Especially when the
path seemed plunged beneath impenetrable darkness.

In a blur the
ceremony ended, and after photographs, everyone moved to the fellowship hall
for the reception. Gasps of awe and delight fell from the open mouths of guests
when they saw how Trish had infused the plain room with an atmosphere of
elegance.

Dark paper covered
the ceiling, and below it tulle and twinkle lights gave the effect of a starlit
night. A huge fountain of wedding punch gurgled and flowed next to the
multi-tiered wedding cake on a table near the back. Interspersed among the
small trees, greenery, and scrolled iron benches lining the perimeter of the
room, hidden up-lights cast soft shadows on the walls.

Andy came up
behind her, his voice low in her ear. “You never cease to amaze me. This is by
far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Trish rubbed her damp
palms together. Why did she suddenly feel like a shy schoolgirl talking to the
captain of the football team? “Thanks. Excuse me, I need something to drink.”

Before she had a
chance to escape, he handed her a cup of punch. “Already gotcha covered.”