A Path Less Traveled (15 page)

“And a basement.”
His eyes bored through her with unyielding scrutiny.

She angled her
head away. “I found plans that offer a few different options. In this one, the
parking would be located on the side—”

“What’s going
on?”

Trish looked at
him. Big mistake. She lowered her gaze. “I-I don’t know what you mean. I’m here
to discuss the plans for your new office. In this one, you could—”

He pounded his
palm over the papers in front of her, blocking them from view. “Is this the way
it’s going to be between us now?”

“What do you
mean?”

“Little chilly in
here, don’t you think?”

She hoisted her
chin and looked him square in the eye. “I think it’s for the best for us to
keep a certain professional distance.”

“Why?” His
sea-green eyes and thrust-out jaw challenged her. “Is this about what happened
the other night?”

Trish glanced
down at her twisting hands. Would he have kissed her had it not been for the
incident with Bo? “Yes.”

“Look at me.”

She repositioned
her business mask, swallowed, and faced him.

His gaze searched
every square inch of her face, then came to a standstill at her eyes, holding
them until she was forced to look away.

“I see.” Andy
bolted to his feet, muttering something about impossible women, while he raked
a hand through his wheat-colored curls. Then he strode to a window and stared
out, one hand on his hip, the opposite elbow propped against the rusty brick
wall. After a moment, he released a heavy sigh and lowered his head. “I don’t
understand.” His voice softened, and he trudged back to his chair and sat, elbows
on knees, facing her. “We never got to finish our conversation the other night.
I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. I only want to help.”

“We’ve been
through this before.”

“Yes, but it’s a
little more serious this time, don’t you think?”

“My point
exactly.” She took a deep breath, her stomach churning. Best to just lay it out
in the open. “I appreciate all you’ve done for Bo. He adores you.”

“But?”

“But I don’t
think it’s wise to have any more episodes like the other night.”

“Episodes? What
does that mean?” His face hardened. “I thought we had a lovely evening in spite
of how it ended. I enjoyed spending time with both of you.”

Trish pushed her
chair away from the table with a scraping sound and stood, crossing her arms.
From this vantage point she could see the pecan and oak trees encircling the
town square gazebo.

Andy eased over
to her, and rested a shoulder against the brick wall. “You’re afraid. I
understand that. It’s scary for me, too.”

She faced him,
her anger on the rise. “So what if I’m afraid? I have a right to be. I have a
little boy to protect.”

His eyes
registered shock. And then hurt. “You actually believe I’d do anything to harm
him?”

“Not
intentionally.” Trish forced herself to calm down. Getting emotional wouldn’t solve
anything. “You saw how he was with you the other night, before . . .” She
couldn’t make her mouth form the words. “He hasn’t been like that with anyone,
not even Steve, since Doc died. Somehow you’re replacing his daddy.”

Andy pursed his
lips, his eyes soft with concern. “Trish, I’m not trying to take your husband’s
place. I’m trying to help Bo cope with his loss.”

“Why?”

He looked down
quickly. A little too quickly. “Because someone made a big difference in my
life when I was his age.” The words hinted at past pain.

“Is that why you
were asking all those questions about Bo and horses?”

“I grew up around
horses. There’s a connection with them that’s hard to explain or duplicate.
It’s like they can sense what humans are going through.”

The trees across
the street billowed in the stiff spring wind. She understood exactly what he
meant. “I know. I grew up with them, too.” She inhaled slowly, then released
the breath. “But since the accident, I can’t . . .” Memories of the day
attacked with fresh intensity.

Andy put a hand
on her arm. “You okay?”

She nodded.
Another lie. Would there ever come a time when the horrific scenes from the
accident didn’t haunt her? When she no longer saw the horse’s hooves connect
with Doc’s skull, or her husband crumple to the ground, his face covered with
blood? Her bottom lip quivered.

With one hand on
her back, Andy guided her to the table and pulled out a chair for her. He
continued to stand and leaned against the conference table with his legs and
arms crossed. “When I lived in Dallas, I volunteered at a horse farm that
specialized in equine therapy for troubled kids. I saw firsthand what it did
for them, and I believe it might be just the thing to help Bo. I’d like your
permission to take him horseback riding.”

Had he not heard
a word she’d said? She folded her arms across her waist and watched a lone gray
cloud float across an otherwise blue sky.

“I’ll take things
slow at first, just having him around me while I look at the horses. Then I’ll
have him help me groom a horse, and—”

Enough.
She’d heard enough. Her palms hit the table, and she pushed her chair away. “It
still comes down to the same thing, Andy. He’s going to get more and more
attached to you.”

“What’s wrong
with that?”

“I’m his mother.”

“I know. I’m not
trying to take him away from you.” He yanked out a chair and sat, his eyes
scouring her face, as if he’d stumbled across new information or had a sudden
flash of clarity. “This isn’t about him, is it? It’s about us.”

Her heartbeat
thudded in her ears. He couldn’t be right. Was she afraid of letting him get
too close? Oh.

The left side of
his mouth curved upward and created a one-sided, winking dimple. “I’m right,
aren’t I?” His tone held wonder.

Trish swallowed
the cotton in her mouth. No more beating about the bush. It was time to set the
matter straight once and for all. “You’ve been wonderful to us, Andy, and I
appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. But I love my husband. Still. With
all that I am.” She paused to allow her brain to catch up with her mouth. “You heard
Carla’s comment about us the other night. I’m sure other people in town are
thinking the same thing. It’s way too soon for me to even think about life with
a different man, especially with my son to consider.”

Andy hung his
head, his fingers laced in front of him.

She sensed his
hurt. “Please say something.”

“What am I
supposed to say? I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. But I want
to get to know you better and to spend time with you.”

Trish turned
toward the table, straightened the mussed papers, and closed the folder of
building plans. “I work for you, Andy. You’re my son’s T-ball coach. That’s
it.” She hated that her words sounded so cold and uncaring, but she didn’t know
how to put it any other way.

“So you’re saying
no to the horse therapy idea?”

“Yes.” She handed
him the folder, grabbed her briefcase, and stood. “You can look through these
on your own. If none of them work, let me know, and I’ll keep searching.” She
strode to the door.

Just as she
reached it, he spoke. “Let me ask you something before you go.”

She pivoted, the
look on his face causing her stomach to cinch. “What?”

“Have you prayed
about this? Or is this a move you’re making on your own?”

Fair question,
but one she had no intention of answering.

Chapter 13

A
ndy gulped down the
rest of his Dr. Pepper, then crumpled the aluminum can one-handed, his gaze
trained on Trish’s receding back. From the baseball field behind him rang out
the laughter and chatter of happy-go-lucky boys anticipating the advent of
summer.

But not Bo.

Alone in the
dugout, thumb in his mouth, he hunched over, a little old man in a
five-year-old’s body.

Pain knifed
Andy’s heart. How much longer was Trish going to avoid him? Couldn’t she see Bo
was worse? He let out an exasperated breath and strode to the dugout. The last
thing he wanted to do was pressure her, but they were losing precious time.

“How’s it going,
slugger?” He tugged at the bill of Bo’s baseball cap and plopped down on the
bench beside him.

Bo gave no
acknowledgement. He stared blankly at the field, a wall the size of Fenway Park between them.

“You ready to
field some balls?”

Again he said
nothing.

Andy scratched
his neck, his frustration building. The second night this week Bo refused to
talk to him. Refused to talk to anyone. Refused to take part in practice. They
were losing him, and it was Trish’s fault. Her and her stupid pride.

A crunch of metal
sounded behind him, and Andy jerked his head in the direction of the crash.
Trish! He bolted to his feet and sprinted to the parking lot.

By the time he
reached her, she’d already climbed from her Suburban to survey the damage. She
hurried over to Carla Clark. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you.”

“It helps if you
check your rearview mirror. Just look what you’ve done to my pickup!” Her face livid
red, Carla muttered a profanity, kicked at the dirt, and sent a shower of
gravel thudding into the grass.

The 1980’s model
GMC pickup, its bed rusted out, now boasted a caved-in passenger side door,
while Trish’s back bumper looked none the worse for wear. But considering the
age and appearance of the pickup, Carla’s fury seemed unwarranted. Besides, the
pickup’s dent coordinated so well with the crumpled tailgate held in place with
a bungee cord.

A keening wail
sounded behind him, and Bo dashed past him and latched onto Trish’s legs with a
death grip.

She freed herself
from his grasp, knelt, and engulfed him in a hug. “Shh, honey. I’m okay.”

Carla muscled her
way over, her hands clenched into fists. “Hope you have insurance.”

“I’ll see that
your pickup is repaired.” Trish managed a calm façade, but she blinked hard
several times, and her voice wavered.

A minute later,
Carla’s pickup tore from the parking lot, exhaust fumes in its wake, the lack
of a muffler roaring her rage.

Trish ushered
Little Bo to the backseat of the Suburban and buckled his seatbelt. “I’m taking
Bo home.” She refused eye contact as she spoke, then shut the door and moved to
the driver’s side.

Oh no, she wasn’t
getting away that easy. He scooted in front of the Suburban and rested a hand
on the door handle. “You’ve gotta do something about this, Trish. He’s getting
worse.”

“We have a
doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Andy lowered his
hand and moved out of the way. Good. At least she was taking a step in the
right direction. “Let me come and ask about the horses.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Trish didn’t
answer or even look at him. Just climbed into the front seat and slammed the
door behind her, then started the engine and drove away.

The Thursday
night practice ran slower than molasses in wintertime, and Andy struggled to
keep his focus. His team needed his attention, but neither his mind nor his
heart would cooperate. Every part of him longed to run after Trish and shake
some sense into her. How could she not see how desperate the situation was?

Finally, practice
ended. His stomach grumbled from lack of food, but there was only one thing on
his mind. This had to be settled. Now.

Fifteen minutes
later, he pulled into her driveway.
God give me the words to say. Help me
get through to her.
He strode to the front door and rang the door bell,
then pounded. She’d have to answer eventually.

Trish cracked the
door a minute later, her eyes swollen and red, and her cheeks damp.

His heart
crumpled. He yanked open the storm door and pulled her into his arms where she
clung to him and cried.

When her tears
were spent, she pulled away. “I’m sorry. I have no right to—to—”

“To cry in my
arms?”

She nodded
feebly, then lowered her head.

He grabbed her
hand, led her to the family room, and eased onto the sofa next to her. “Where’s
Bo?”

Trish pressed her
lips together, her eyes round and sad. “In bed.”

Alarm skittered
down his backbone. “Already? It’s only seven. Did he eat?”

She shook her
head. “I tried. He wouldn’t eat anything.” Her eyes closed slowly, the tears
returning. “What am I gonna do?”

He stretched out
a hand, lifted her chin, and stared into tear-filled eyes. “You’re gonna get
through this. Both of you. But you’ve got to stop being so stubborn. Please let
me help.”

Her face
contorted, and she struggled to maintain control, but said nothing.

“What time is
your doctor’s appointment?”

“Three. In
Morganville.” Trish snatched a tissue from a nearby box and wiped her face and
nose, then hunched over, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “I usually
pick him up from school a few minutes early.”

“Let me drive you
and talk to the doctor.”

Doubt waged war
on her features. After a long minute, she gave her head a defeated nod and
released a breath, her face so full of sorrow it shredded his heart.

Thank You,
Lord.
He raised a finger and brushed away a stray tear that wandered down
her cheek.

* *
* * *

As they entered
Dr. Wyse’s office, Trish tucked Little Bo’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle
squeeze. The room was designed with kids in mind, with toys, books, kid-sized
tables, and bean bags, but well-organized and lit with sunshine. Soft, soothing
music and a vanilla-scented candle made it a womb-like place, safe and
comforting.

The kind-faced
woman met them at the door. “Hi, Trish.” She knelt in front of Bo, her eyes
instantly concerned. “He’s worse?”