A Path Less Traveled (7 page)

“Really?” Mama
Beth beamed. “I have kin folk in Berringer. Next time I call ‘em, I’ll ask if
they remember you.”

Andy twisted in his
seat, his gaze focused on his plate. He grabbed a roll, tore off a big chunk,
and crammed it in his mouth.

Dad paused
mid-bite, a food-laden fork suspended in the air. “Our city attorney recently
announced his retirement. We sure could use you here.”

It felt great to
be in a position to help him for a change. The thought made her pause. She’d
been upset with him for helping her, yet here she was doing the same thing.

“Yeah, and you
could help me some more with my catching.” Little Bo brought a chubby-fisted
fork to his mouth and shoveled in a huge bite, jabbering away the whole time.

A look of
discomfort bathed Andy’s red face as he swallowed the clump of bread. “It’s
just an idea I’ve been tinkering with. As appealing as small-town life sounds,
I’m not sure I should leave Dallas. I’m still praying about it.”

Mama Beth patted
his hand. “Good for you. God will show you what to do.”

Trish scratched
her head. Great. Put another red slash next to her name for embarrassing him.
He’d obviously not expected her to share the comment. She sawed off a bite of
the tender roast and stuffed her mouth before she blabbed something else she
regretted. Cut. Chew. Swallow.
Repeat.

The cell phone in
her purse jingled from its perch on the sunlit window seat. She snatched her
napkin from her lap, tossed it beside her plate, and stood. Great time to make
a getaway.

She retrieved the
phone and escaped to the front porch with a glance at the display screen.
Delaine. In the past few weeks, her friend’s calls had become less about comfort
and more about pressure. What now?

“Hey,
girlfriend.” Delaine’s voice contained the same chatty friendliness it had held
during their high school days. “Hope I didn’t interrupt your lunch, but I’ve
been dying to hear how the wedding went.”

Trish plopped
down on the porch swing. “Except for a few minor mishaps everything went fine.”

“Any business
prospects?”

The question
she’d hoped to avoid. “Not yet.” Trish chewed the inside of her cheek. “But I
did get a lot of compliments, so maybe there’s still a chance.”

“Well, this is
Miller’s Creek we’re talking about.” Delaine launched into the spiel she’d
heard untold times before—small towns didn’t want or need interior
designers—and finished with: “You need to move to Austin.”

“I’ve told you
before. I can’t do that to Bo.”

Delaine sighed.
“I don’t get it. I thought you didn’t want to depend on your family.”

“I don’t, but I’m
okay right now. I have a little left over from what Dani and Steve paid me for
the wedding.” Precious little.

“And what are you
going to do when that runs out?”

Good question.
Trish wrapped an arm around her waist and hunched over. “I’ll think of
something.”

“Listen, I hope
you don’t mind, but I told a friend who owns a design firm in downtown Austin about you.”

Trish’s hackles
rose. Why did everyone feel inclined to interfere in her life?

“She’s looking to
hire a new designer within the next few months and wants to see your work.
Could you send some photos and a resume?”

Trish
straightened at the job prospect, then resumed her slouch. While a job in Austin would provide a chance to put her college degree to work, she couldn’t yank Little
Bo away from all that was familiar. Nor could she imagine leaving Miller’s
Creek. The designer position was nothing but a last resort. “I’ll think about
it.” Oh yeah, she’d definitely think about it. Probably all night.

“Well, don’t
think too long. This opportunity won’t last forever.” Defensiveness now sounded
in her friend’s tone.

The conversation
ended with terse goodbyes, and Trish trudged back to the dining room.
Questioning eyes turned her way when she entered the room. She sank to the
ladder-back chair, fidgeted with her napkin, and picked up her fork. “That was
Delaine. She called to let me know about an interior design job in Austin.”

No one said a
word. Finally Little Bo looked up from his plate, his bottom lip quivering.
“Mom, can I go outside? I’m not so hungry anymore.”

His sad voice
sliced her heart. She rubbed his back with her palm. “Sure sweetie, but stay
out of Mama Beth’s flower garden, okay?”

“’kay.” He moved
to Andy’s side, his brown eyes pleading. “Wanna play catch?”

Trish reached
over and tousled his baby-fine hair. “Andy has to drive back to Dallas.”

Andy’s eyes
hardened in a non-verbal reprimand. “But Andy wants to play catch first.” The
words were soft, but the stiff set of his jaw held challenge. He held her gaze
for a second more then smiled at Bo. “Let me finish my lunch, buddy. I’ll be
out in a few minutes.”

Her son’s
expression turned to instant glee. “I’ll get my glove outta the car,” Bo called
over his shoulder as he darted to the living room and out the front door.

Mama Beth started
in on her first. “Trish, you can’t move him away from his family right now. He
needs stability.”

Her blood
chilled. Since when was it Mama Beth’s call to say what she could and couldn’t
do? With
her
son and
her
life? “I’m well aware of what Bo needs,
but I also have to make a living. I’m not sure I can do that in a town the size
of Miller’s Creek.” She somehow managed to keep her tone above the frost zone.

Dad’s fork
clanked to his plate, and apprehension scuttled down her spine. She yanked her
head toward him.

He cleared his
throat and reached into his back pocket, his face drawn tight. “That reminds
me. Dani mentioned you might be struggling a bit financially, so we all took up
a little collection.”

A sick feeling
churned her stomach to pure acid.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not in
front of Andy.
She sensed his gaze on her, but couldn’t make eye contact.
“That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

Dad plunked down
a wad of bills. “We love you, honey. We wanna help however we can.”

Trish couldn’t
look up. Couldn’t touch the money. It was all she could do to squeak out a
feeble “thank you.”

Chapter 7

M
iller’s Creek grew
tiny in Andy’s rearview mirror. With the top down and the air doused with the
scent of bluebonnets, he puzzled over his conflicted feelings. He had a good
life in Dallas. No, make that a great life. So why did it feel like he was
leaving a chunk of himself behind?

He needed to figure
this thing out. Needed to decide what he wanted. What God wanted for him. Trish
had opened a can of worms with her comment about him moving, and Bo Miller had
jumped on it like a big-mouthed bass. He sighed and pushed the thought aside.

A Texas spring day
spread out before him in the open countryside, the wildflowers blowing in the
breeze—a great day to fish, go horseback riding, or play baseball. Things he
wouldn’t have time for in Dallas.

Thoughts of his
last game of catch with Bo made his chest tighten. A boy that age needed a
father. His own childhood proved it. A cold chill shivered down his back. No
telling how his life would’ve turned out had it not been for Lester Hathcock.

On a whim, he
inserted his Bluetooth and punched Lester’s number.

“Mmm-yello.”

Andy smiled at
the familiar greeting. “Hey, old man.”

A contagious
chuckle sounded. “Who you calling old? Have you forgotten whose birthday it is
today?”

He widened his
eyes. Oh, man, he’d forgotten the party his friends were throwing for him.
“Yeah, actually, I did.”

“Then let me be
the first to wish you Happy Birthday.” A muffled voice sounded in the
background. “Denise says to tell you Happy Birthday, too.”

“Tell her thanks,
and give her a hug from me.”

“Will do. What’s
up?”

He swallowed a
sudden rush of emotion. “Just wanted to call and say thanks for all you did for
me when I was growing up.”

“Mind my asking
what brought that on?”

Andy imagined
Lester, his dark brows knit together, sprawled out in his recliner with the
television remote in one hand. “I was at a wedding in Miller’s Creek this
weekend.” He swerved to miss a long-eared jackrabbit loping across the road. “A
little boy there lost his father this past year. I played catch with him, and
it reminded me of you.”

“You know how I
feel about that.” The older man’s voice took on a gravelly tone. “You and Matt
are like the sons I never had. I got a lot more than I gave.” He changed the
subject. “Ah, anyway, does that little boy have a mama?”

“Yeah, as a
matter of fact he does.”

“Maybe you should
visit Miller’s Creek more often.”

Under different
circumstances maybe. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“How?”

“Her husband’s
only been gone a few months. She’s not ready.” Besides, she was way out of his
league.

“Is that your
opinion or God’s?”

Andy frowned.
“Sorry. I’m not following.”

“I’m not trying
to be rough on you, son. I just know how you think. You get stuck in your head,
instead of allowing for the possibility that God might have a different plan.”

A few minutes
later Andy punched the end call button. Was Lester right? Should he return to
Miller’s Creek? The humiliation inscribed on Trish’s face when her dad tossed
out the money set off an ache in his chest he couldn’t shake. For the first
time, he saw how much it hurt her to take help from others, no matter how kind
their intentions. As much as she needed assistance, more than anything else she
needed to feel capable.

Andy pursed his
lips. Had it been her pain that prompted him to ask her to design his office if
he made the move to Miller’s Creek? Or did his motivation go deeper? He rubbed
a hand across his mouth. Only yesterday he’d been afraid of getting hurt, but
he’d noticed how the offer had sparked hope in her eyes. Hope was something he
very much wanted to give to both her and Bo. He blinked in surprise. Where had
that come from?

His thoughts
flashed to the night he’d doctored her arm. The touch of her fingers on his,
the warmth in her voice, the sad, chocolate-colored eyes that melted his heart.
It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to put distance between them.

He puffed out a
breath and tapped the satellite radio button. A bluesy jazz flowed from the
speakers. Lester was right. He did spend too much time in his head.

Andy tried to
focus on the scenery, but to no avail. A move made no sense. Trish was perfect
proof that starting a business in a small town was a huge financial risk. He’d
spent the first twenty-five years of his life in poverty, and had sweated blood
to enjoy the kind of life his Dallas practice afforded. Why should he give that
up? Why would he want to? Besides, his first stint in Miller’s Creek had turned
out worse than a bad blind date.

His cell phone
buzzed, and he brought a hand to his ear. “This is Andy.”

“Happy Birthday,
bro!”

Matt’s cheery
voice brought a smile. “Thanks, little brother. And thanks for not calling me
old.”

“Oh, man, now my
next comment is ruined.”

Andy’s mouth
curved into a smirk. “Okay, lemme have it.”

“Just gonna ask
how many fire trucks were summoned to put out the fire on your birthday cake.”

“Ha! Very funny.”

His brother
laughed. “I’m sure you’ll return the favor when my birthday rolls around.”

“Count on it.
How’s school going?”

“Pretty good, I
guess. Had another gig last night at a coffee shop close to campus. Everyone
seemed to enjoy my music.”

“Good for you.”
Andy waited, anticipating the next comment, understanding now how difficult it
was.

“Uh, look, could
you send more money? I’m running low on cash, and I need gas and food.”

Again Trish’s
embarrassment flooded his thoughts. “Sure. I’ll wire it to your bank account
first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks, bro, I
owe you.”

“No, you don’t.
It’s not a loan, it’s an investment.”

Andy hung up the
phone a minute later. More proof that staying in Big D was the right decision.
He wasn’t the only person in the equation. Matt depended on him, and trying to
jumpstart a career as a musician meant he could be dependent for several more
years.

He increased the
radio volume and lowered the roof, the wind whooshing above him as he zipped
down the road toward Dallas—his home.

Two hours later,
Andy rolled to a stop in the parking lot at Papa Jack’s Grill in North Dallas, not really in the mood to celebrate an event that made him more aware of his
age and single status.

As he entered the
building, he positioned his Ray Bans on top of his head and scanned the noisy,
over-packed restaurant. The air was saturated with the smell of fresh-grilled
beef. His friends called out and waved from the back, and he zigzagged his way
through the tables to their booth.

“Well, it’s about
time the birthday boy showed up. How was the wedding?” With boredom slung
across his face, his law partner, Dave, reclined with one arm curled around his
new wife.

Andy lowered his
head. Yet another reminder of what he didn’t have.
Strike one.
“Good.
Sorry I’m late. I promised a kid a game of catch before I left Miller’s Creek.”

No one asked
about the kid or their game of catch, but Ned, their second-year law clerk,
waggled his eyebrows. “Meet any babes?” His tone carried insinuation.
Strike
two.

“Nope.” Instead,
he’d met a beautiful and talented woman. Babes were a dime a dozen.

Andy started to
pull up a chair, when Serena, one of the paralegals, flashed a too-friendly
smile and patted the cushion next to her. “Here. I saved you a seat.”