A Path Less Traveled (11 page)

Trish checked the
time. Already two o’clock. She nibbled at another cracker until it was
half-gone, then stared at the other half in disgust. She was tired of crackers.
Tired of being hungry. Her cell phone buzzed as she placed the uneaten half
back in the waxy paper. “Hello.”

“Hi, Trish. It’s
Andy.”

She slumped in
her chair. “Hi.”

“Bad day?”

“No worse than
any other, I guess.”

The line grew
quiet. “You okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Uh, I wanted to
let you know I’ve decided to make the move.”

Great. Just what
she needed—someone else who felt compelled to rescue her. She had nothing. No
words to say. Nothing to encourage him the way he’d encouraged her.

“I’m going to set
up a temporary office in City Hall while I build my living quarters and office
across from the train depot.” He sounded excited about his plans. “I need your
help.”

Trish snorted.
“Are you asking or telling?”

“Neither. I’m
begging. I have to stay in Dallas this week to tie up loose ends, but I’d like
my temporary office ready when I arrive Friday evening.” He let out an audible
sigh. “Look, Trish, I know this is short notice and I know you’re busy, but I
really need your help.”

She sat up
straighter. Why not take the job? Her main concern had been to keep distance
between her and Andy, but he wouldn’t even be here. “I’ll need money for
purchases.”

“Set up an
account, and I’ll wire whatever you need.” He shuffled papers in the
background, and she imagined him cradling the phone between his shoulder and
sandy curls. “I’ll also send you half of whatever price you set up front, and
pay you the second half this weekend.”

A burden the size
of Texas rolled off her chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Tyler.”

After they
straightened out the details, Trish clicked her phone shut, her mood suddenly
buoyant. Her first real client. And not a wedding, but an actual office space.
Maybe other businesses would see the benefit of her services. Sure it was only
one job, but at least it would help pay the bills and give her portfolio a
boost.

Amazing how life
could turn around in a heartbeat. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed for
the door with a jauntiness in her step she hadn’t experienced in ages. First
she’d set up Andy’s expense account. Then she’d treat herself to a nice lunch.

Later that
afternoon when she picked up Little Bo from school, she felt like a different
woman than the frantic mother who had dropped him off. And to her delight, Bo
looked better, too.

He bolted out the
classroom door, his face bright with an excited smile. “Guess what, Mom? I
learned to tie my shoes today.” He knelt in the crowded hall and proceeded to
untie his shoe. “Watch. First I make two bunny ears then I cross ‘em. Next I
have to tuck one under the other.” Bo fumbled the last step, and his mouth
turned down at the corners.

“Here, honey, let
me help.” Trish bent down.

He pushed her
hand out of the way. “No, Mom. I can do it myself.” He started the process
again, his expression a combination of concentration and determination. His
words rang in her ears.
I can do it myself.
He finished with a lopsided
bow, and then sent a triumphant grin.

Suddenly, the
path ahead came into focus for the first time in months, so clear she could see
a fork in the road. One road led to dependence on her family. The second road
would be rough, and one she’d have to travel on her own. It might even mean
leaving Miller’s Creek, but it was better than feeling inept. She stood, her
spine ramrod straight, her shoulders squared.

Yes, she could do
it herself. And she would.

Chapter 10

T
rish stared at her
father, unsure how to respond. “We’re doing okay.”

Dad pinned her
with his eagle-eyes, making her feel like a twelve-year-old who’d been caught
smoking behind the barn. “You’re hiding something.”

She faced the
pine cabinets and sink and scraped food into the garbage disposal, the grating
noise adding to her shredded spirit. Would he ever treat her like an adult?
After she loaded the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, she slammed the door
and twisted the knob. The motor whirred, and water trickled.

“Look, you’re
over here all the time cooking my meals and cleaning the house. At least let me
pay you for your time.” His throaty words held barely-contained emotion.

It was true. She
cooked his breakfast and supper, cleaned his house, and washed his clothes.
Even if he could pay her enough to meet the mortgage each month it would help.
No!
She refused to take the easy way out. These things she did for him because she loved
him, not for a handout. It wasn’t like it was any big deal, especially since
her house was a quick walk away. “It’s a little tough right now, Dad, but we’re
going to be okay. Andy’s already paid me half of what he owes me. I should get
the rest today.”

“And then what?
Have any more jobs lined up?”

She turned toward
him, lips pressed, and shook her head. “Only the possible position in Austin.”

The news
apparently cut into him, because his forehead furrowed, and he flinched. “Are
you actually considering that move?”

She steeled her
resolve with a quick breath. “I might not have a choice.”

Dad lumbered from
his seat and placed his large hands on her shoulders. “You can’t do that to
Little Bo.”

“I’m not doing it
to
him. I’m doing it
for
him. There’s a huge difference.”

“You know all of
us are willing to help.”

“Of course.” She
pulled away from his grasp and wiped crumbs from the counter and deposited them
in the trash. “But I also know I’m a big girl and can do it myself.” Okay, now
she was regressing. A minute ago she felt like a twelve-year-old, now she
sounded like she was five.

“That’s nothing
but stubborn pride talking, Patricia Diane!”

His angry words
slapped her in the face. It had been years since he’d used her full name.

A weary sigh
escaped him. “Remember the verse I showed you the other day?”

“The one about
trusting the Lord?”

Dad nodded.
“Don’t depend on your own strength when you can depend on God.”

“I
am
depending on God.” Her anger spiraled upward, increasing the volume of her
words. “I just don’t want to depend on your charity.” The words came out more
forceful than she’d intended, and her father grew stone quiet.

Finally he broke
the tense silence. “How do you know that God doesn’t mean to provide for you
through us?”

Trish arranged
the dish towel to where it hung perfectly from the oven handle, ignoring his
question. “I have to go. I’m meeting Andy to put the finishing touches on his
temporary office.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yes. See you
later.” She hurried out the French doors at the back of the house before he
reduced her to a screaming two-year-old.

The spring
morning already held warmth, the air dry and dusty. Little Bo lounged beneath a
small grove of oaks and petted Steve’s golden lab.

“Come on, honey.
We have to go into town. Mama has work to do.”

“I want to stay
here with Papaw.”

“No.” Her son was
her responsibility, and no one else’s. “You need to come with me.”

“Why?” His chin
held a defiant tilt.

“Because I said
so.” How she’d hated those words as a child, and had even sworn she’d never use
them. “Come on.”

“Please, Mom,
it’s Saturday.” His voice took on a whine. “There won’t be anything to do.”

“You can take
some books and puzzles. Now let’s go.” She checked her watch. The last thing
she needed was to be late to a meeting with her only client. “Bo, now.” She
struggled to keep her anger in check. “We don’t want to keep Andy waiting.”

“Andy?” His head
shot up, his eyes hopeful. “Andy will be there?”

“Yes.”

He sprinted
toward their house, only a few steps away, but concealed by live oaks. “Gotta
get my glove and ball.”

Trish stared at
his retreating back and frowned. She should be glad he’d agreed to come with
her so easily. Instead it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She followed
after her son, entered the kitchen from the garage, and moved to the sink to
rinse out the coffee pot. At least the house was clean. Another sleepless night
had provided plenty of time for the housework.

The sound of
Little Bo digging through his toy box echoed down the hallway. She flipped the
handle on the faucet. It clattered into the sink, and a spray of water shot
into the air, drenching her clothes and leaving puddles on the counter and tile
floor. Her cry of surprise brought Bo hustling into the room.

“Whoa, a gusher!
What happened?”

Trish licked
water from her lips and put a hand over the fountain, but only managed to spray
herself more. Tears formed and slid down her cheeks. At least they weren’t
visible with all the water on her face.

Bo dissolved into
giggles. It had been so long since he’d laughed full out with nothing to hold
him back. On a whim, she allowed the water to shoot between her fingers and
sprayed him. He squealed and laughed even harder.

Her clothes
dripped as she hurried to the linen closet down the hall and grabbed a stack of
towels. She placed one on top of the geyser. In a matter of seconds it turned
from dusty gray to slate. As she moved to grab another towel, the microwave
clock glared the time. Andy.

With one hand on
the soaked towels, she reached for her cell phone and dialed his number.

“Hey, where are
you?” His voice held an exasperated edge.

“I’m sorry I’m
late, but we’ve had a minor crisis.”

“What’s wrong?”
His tone took on immediate concern.

Trish grabbed
another towel and plopped it on top. “The kitchen faucet broke and is shooting
water everywhere. I’m going to have to call a plumber.” The thought subdued
her. How much would
that
cost?

“Don’t call yet.
I’m on my way. Look under the sink. There should be water shut-off valves.”

She opened the
cabinet doors and peered under. Two eye-shaped valves stared back. “Yeah, I see
them.”

“Turn them both
off and stay put. I’ll be there ASAP.” The phone clicked, and the line went
dead.

Trish followed
his instructions, and miraculously, the geyser stopped. She turned to survey
the damage. Water everywhere. “Here, Bo.” She threw a dry towel his way. “Use
this to dry yourself off, then start mopping up the water.”

They’d just about
finished when Andy tapped on the door leading in from the garage. Trish
motioned him in. Bo dashed to him and latched onto one leg.

“Hey, buddy.”
Andy hoisted him into the air, then sat him on his feet with a pat on the back.

Bo smiled and
took off toward his room.

Dressed in cargo
shorts, a University of Texas t-shirt, and flip-flops, Andy smelled of soap, and
his eyes held a devilish glint that teased her. “Do you always take a shower
fully clothed?”

“Very funny.” She
closed the door against the escalating outside heat. “Tell me again why you’re
here.”

“Just call me Mr.
Fix-It.” He dangled a plastic bag from B & B Hardware on two fingers.

Once again,
Andy—or Mr. Fix-It, as he’d put it—to the rescue.

A half hour later
he reached under the sink to turn on the valves. “That should do it.” He lifted
the faucet handle and water streamed from the spout. A dimpled grin appeared on
his face.

“Thanks.”
Unexplainable annoyance flashed through her. “How’d you know what to do?”

He shrugged.
“It’s just a guy thing.”

From nowhere, a
memory scuttled to the forefront of her thoughts. She’d had a flat tire and
called Doc for help. He’d left his clinic to come change the flat. Without
warning, tears escaped down her cheek. She swiveled to hide them.

Behind her, Andy
cleared his throat. “Actually, a guy I worked for in high school was a building
contractor and a jack-of-all-trades. He taught me.” His soft tone of voice told
her that he’d seen her tears. “You okay?”

Trish wiped the
tears and turned to face him. “Yeah. I just never know when something will set
me off. Little things, you know, like walking into the living room and seeing
his favorite chair empty, or hearing a car drive up and wondering if its him.”
She shook off the pain, leaned against the granite counter, and crossed her
arms, suddenly feeling inept. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

Andy’s eyebrows
rose. “Of course.” He dried his hands on a towel.

“Such as?”

“Such as carrying
heavy boxes full of candles and glass globes.” He winked and launched the soppy
hand towel her direction. “Now it’s your turn to help me, but you might wanna
change first.”

Trish eyed her
soaked jeans and t-shirt. No telling what her face and hair looked like. “Gee,
you think?”

Little Bo entered
the room and stood quietly, his baseball glove in one hand and a ball in the
other.

Andy’s lips once
more curled into a smile. “Why don’t you change while Bo and I have a quick
game of catch?”

“Yippee!” Bo
scooted for the door, but Andy captured him and swung him up on one shoulder,
much to her son’s delight. Laughter gurgled from him.

She grinned as
the two exited, then immediately sobered. Andy’s first day in Miller’s Creek,
and Little Bo was already attached. Thank goodness, she wasn’t.

* *
* * *

Andy looked on as
Trish wrestled the silk ficus tree into place, its leaves rustling. The grayish
white tree trunk contrasted with the slate gray wall she’d painted during the
week. His gaze traveled around the office to the wrought iron lamps with the Texas lone star, then on to the brown leather sofa, antique oak desk, credenza, and
barrister shelves.