A Path Less Traveled (36 page)

“At least your
tux fits this time.”

His left dimple
winked at her from his cheeky grin. “I like walking down the aisle with you.”

Trish’s heart
bounced in her chest as they reached the steps leading to the platform. Words
eluded her. All she could do was send him a brief smile and move to the taped
“x” on the floor, praying God would continue to direct her path toward Andy
Tyler.

* *
* * *

Trish crawled
from bed, bleary-eyed, and pulled on her robe over her pajamas. Who was banging
at the door so early on a Saturday morning? And didn’t they realize she was up
late the night before cleaning up after the wedding? She stumbled down the
hallway toward the front door, but Bo passed her and opened it right as she got
there.

Andy entered
carrying two white bags, the accompanying aroma teasing her nose. “Anyone
around here like donuts?” He sang the words, then pecked her on the cheek as he
passed.

“I do, I do.” Bo
giggled with delight.

Trish slammed the
door and followed them to the dining room. “Are you always so sunny and chipper
this early in the morning?”

Andy laughed.
“Are you always so grumpy?”

“Yep.” Bo sank
his teeth into a chocolate-covered donut.

“Thanks a lot, traitor.”
She moved toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. A big one.

But again Andy
passed her by. “I’ll make the coffee. You go get in the shower.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we’ve got
things to do, people to see, life to explore. Time’s a-wasting. Hop to it, chick!”
He barked the order like an over-exuberant cheerleader.

“Why is it that
when I’m in a hurry, you tell me to chill, but when you’re in a hurry, you tell
me to hop to it?”

He shrugged,
laughed, and planted a kiss on her lips. “’Cause what I have to do is more
important.”

She jutted out
her left hip and crossed her arms. “How could it be more important than getting
some paintings done for the art show and Autumn Daze Festival? I told you
yesterday how far behind I am. I don’t have time for fun and games today.”

Andy pulled her
into an embrace. “For someone who’s a non-lawyer type, you sure are
argumentative.”

Trish glared at
him, his early morning pep rally starting to grate on her last nerve.

A goofy grin
crossed his face, his eyes half open. “You, my dear, are just gonna have to
trust me.”

She pulled away
and headed down the hallway. “I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

One hour, two
donuts, and three cups of coffee later, Andy escorted her and Bo to his car,
almost giddy. “Your coach awaits, princess.” He opened the door, held out one
arm, and bowed.

“I still don’t
understand why you can’t tell me where we’re going.”

Exasperation
covered his face. “Because it’s a secret.”

Bo chimed in from
the back seat. “Yeah, and everyone knows you’re not s’posed to tell a secret.”

Trish wrinkled
her brows. “You know about this, too?”

“Yep.” A smug
smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

All the way to
town, Andy and Bo sang silly songs and laughed. Trish tried her best to enter
their fun, but the thought of all she should be doing kept her from enjoying
the time. When they pulled into the parking lot of his home and office, Andy
let out a cheery “We’re here!” and exited the car, coming around to her side to
open the door.

“You got me up
this early in the morning to come to your
office
?” Her previous
aggravation elevated to anger.

He held up one
finger. “Remember. Trust me.” He held a hand out as Bo passed. “Blind-fold,
please.”

Bo slapped a red
bandana onto Andy’s opened palm. “Check.”

Her radar went
up. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not going anywhere blind-folded with you two.”

“Why?” Andy’s
expression was one of mock hurt.

“Because I don’t
tr—”

“You don’t trust
me.” He finished the statement, and let his eyes take on the puppy dog look she
could never refuse.

“Okay. Fine.” She
twirled around, putting her back to Andy, so he could tie the blindfold, then
held her hands out to make sure they didn’t run her into bushes or buildings.

Andy’s lips
brushed her ear. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

“What was your
first clue?”

“Shame on you,
Trish James.” He held her hand tightly. “Okay, we’re going down the stairs.”

“You got your
basement finished! That’s the big surprise, isn’t it?”

“Party pooper.”

They arrived at
the bottom of the stairs.

“Just a few more
steps, Mom.”

“Okay, this
should do.” Andy brought her to a stop. “Take the blindfold off.”

She pulled the
bandana down around her neck. The basement had been finished in a blah-beige
from the carpet to the ceiling. Recessed lighting spotlighted empty walls, and
there wasn’t a stick of furniture.

“Well, what do
you think?” Andy’s voice held excitement.

Was he serious?
He’d painted the whole room beige and made a big deal over bringing her here to
see his lack of design skills? The room was nothing but a blank canvas. How could
she express her opinion without completely destroying the joy in his eyes? “Um,
it’s very nice, Andy, but why is it empty?”

“It’s not empty.
Oh, I have you facing the wrong way.” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her
around.

On the wall in
front of her was one painting—the one she’d wanted to give him—but had sold at
the festival in Morganville. “Where did you get that painting?”

“I bought it.”

“No, you didn’t
it. I sold it to a charming old gentleman. I remember because at first I told
him it wasn’t for sale, but he offered me so much I couldn’t refuse.”

Andy nodded.
“Which made me pay a ridiculous amount.”

Realization
dawned. “You mean he . . .”

“Yep. He bought
it for me.” He crowed the words triumphantly.

“But why?”

He slid his hands
down her arms. “Because I wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let me. Because
I love the painting. But mostly because I love you.”

There it was
again, that look of love and utter devotion that made her tremble inside.
Suddenly familiar voices sounded upstairs. One by one, her Miller’s Creek
friends clunked down the steps carrying large frames. Her breath caught in her
throat, and she brought both hands to her face.

J.C. was first in
line, his kind eyes shimmering, his head lowered bashfully. “Here’s the
painting you did of the home place where I grew up, Miss Trish.” J.C. showed
the painting, then moved to one of the spotlights and hung it on the wall.

Wanda Cates, the
city secretary, was next. “I’ve had this painting you made of my prize rosebush
hanging in my living room all these years. I’m happy to put it in your exhibit,
but only on loan.” Her nasally voice called out over her shoulder as she moved
to yet another spotlight and positioned the art.

“And I love this
picture you did of my old ’67 Mustang.” Coot trumpeted the drawled-out words in
a burst of bad breath, then joined his friends.

In what seemed
like an endless line, people brought the work she’d painted over the years,
quickly filling up the once bare walls. Last were Dani and Steve. Her brother
deposited a pile of paintings at his feet, then stood and glared at Andy. “Next
time you plan something like this, would you mind doing it when Dad and Mama
Beth are in town?”

“Oh, don’t mind
him,” said Dani, hugging Trish’s neck. “We’re happy to bring their paintings to
add to your exhibit.” Then she winked at Andy and stooped to help Steve pick up
the pile of artwork at their feet.

Then, to the
shouts of the crowd, Mama Beth and Dad came trouncing down the steps.

Trish’s mouth
flew open. “Y’all are supposed to be on your honeymoon!”

“When Andy told
us his plan, we delayed our flight.” Mama Beth embraced her.

“I wasn’t about
to miss this day.” Dad choked out the words and planted a kiss on her forehead.

But it wasn’t a
big enough deal for them to miss their honeymoon! Tears inching down her cheeks
and her mouth agape, Trish turned and looked around the room, now filled with
the people she loved. The bare walls were now covered with her paintings. Her
friends were generously loaning their artwork for her upcoming exhibits, and
Andy had been behind it all. She faced him, blinking back more tears. “I don’t
know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough. I’m sorry I ever doubted
you.”

Andy looked at
Bo, huge grins plastered across both their faces. “Would you help me remember
she said that, buddy?”

Bo nodded. “Yep.”

Trish wiped away
tears and turned to face the crowd. “I’m incredibly blessed to have friends
like you. Words can’t express how much I love you.”

Then in a move
that took her breath away, Andy went down on one knee in front of her, a hand
stretched toward Little Bo. “Ring, please.”

Bo pulled a black
velvet box from his pocket and placed it in Andy’s hand. “Check.”

Chuckles sounded
around the room, and Andy’s eyes went soft. “Trish James, I want to travel all
of life’s paths with you. I want to share thousands of sunsets and horse rides.
I want to walk down the aisle with you again and again and again. Will you
marry me?”

She tried to
speak, but words wouldn’t come. Instead, she raised both hands to her cheeks
and nodded her head.

Bo stepped up to
Andy and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s her way of saying she’s really,
really happy, and yes, we’ll marry you.”

Trish joined them
on the floor for a family-sized hug, and the room broke out in cheers.

There was no longer
any doubt that this unexpected path had been God’s plan all along. She’d spent
far too long trying to forge her own path, but it wasn’t up to her to paint
this picture. Instead, they’d continue to trust God, and He would direct their
paths.

THE
END

* *
* * *

Dear friends,

Trish’s spiritual
journey in the story—as is usually the case in my writing—came from my own
quest for God’s direction in my life. How many times have I prayed for God’s
direction, when it clearly states in His Word that if we trust Him with all our
heart, He will direct our paths?

When we walk by
sight, our journey through this earth to our heavenly home can be so confusing.
But these earthly eyes are limited and temporal. They see only a small fraction
of reality. A bigger reality is being played out all around us on a daily
basis. If we rely only on our finite senses, we miss so much!

A faith-walk is
challenging to be sure, but also exhilarating and liberating. When we place our
complete trust in the One who loves us perfectly—the One who knows us better
than we know ourselves—each step becomes part of a marvelous adventure directed
by the very hand of God.

Walking by faith,

Cathy

* *
* * *

About the Author

Cathy Bryant is a
former public school teacher who handed in her chalk for a private music studio
and writing career. Her passion is to write heart-stirring stories that show
God’s life-changing grace. Her debut novel,
Texas Roads
(a 2009 ACFW
Genesis finalist) released in early 2010.
A Path Less Traveled
, the
second book in the Miller’s Creek novels, was launched in the fall of 2010.
The
Way of Grace
(book three in the series) will be available in 2011.

Cathy is the
owner and editor of the popular blog, WordVessel, and has written devotions for
The Upper Room
devotional magazine, and for two devotional books,
Spirit
& Heart: A 30-Day Devotional Journey
and
Faith & Finance: In God
We Trust
. She’s the wife of a music minister, the mother of two grown sons
and a beautiful daughter-in-love, and the Nana of Harrisen. A Texas gal since
birth, she lives in a century-old Texas farmhouse with her husband and a
phobia-ridden cat.

Visit her website at
www.CatBryant.com
.

* *
* * *

Book Club
Discussion Questions

1. Personal
hardships often make celebrations difficult to bear, as we see in the opening
of the story. How does Dani and Steve’s wedding affect Trish? Can you relate to
Trish’s struggle? How?

2. Most of us
have lies from the past that haunt us. What is Andy’s lie? What is Trish’s lie?
How do lies from your past affect you? How has God’s truth helped you overcome
Satan’s lies?

3. Trish covers
up her financial difficulties with little white lies. Is it ever okay to lie?
Why or why not? What are some of the consequences for Trish’s lies?

4. Post-traumatic
stress disorder is usually associated with soldiers returning from battle, but
it can also affect anyone who’s experienced a devastating trauma. What symptoms
of PTSD does little Bo exhibit?

5. What signs of
grief do you see manifested in Trish’s life? How does having a traumatized
child to care for affect her grieving process? How do you think witnessing the
accident and her husband’s vegetative state affected the process?

6. How do
baseball and horses become a healing factor and point of connection for Andy,
Trish, and Bo?

7. How do Trish’s
paintings, interior design work, and cottage serve as symbols of her life? What
other symbols in the story are metaphorical in relation to Trish’s struggle?

8. What incident
in the story serves as a metaphor for Andy’s fear of being hurt? Could any of
your fears serve as a metaphor for your life?