A Path Less Traveled

Books by Cathy Bryant:

MILLER’S
CREEK NOVELS

Texas Roads

A
Path Less Traveled

What Readers Are Saying About Cathy
Bryant’s Books

"
Texas
Roads
is a wonderful book that is like a comfy pair of pj's. I fell in
love with the characters and town and wish I lived in a town like Millers Creek
. . . . The book will make you laugh, shed a few tears, and hug those you love
a little tighter."

~Vicki at Reading At The Beach

"Cathy
Bryant has written a solid debut novel . . . . A hint of romance, a
closely-guarded secret, and a bit of mystery provide dimension in this story
that reminds us that our inner longings will only be satisfied by God's
presence. Take a journey along the
Texas Roads
!"

~Linda at Mocha
with Linda

"
Texas
Roads
is a wonderful debut novel by Cathy Bryant . . . . You'll enjoy
the well-rounded characters, a godly message, and some good, clean romance when
reading this book! This is a definite 5-star read and I am anxiously awaiting
her next novel . . ."

~Tammy at Tammy's
Book Parlor

"Beautiful
description, poignant characters, chuckle-worthy humor, and a heart-healing
message make
Texas Roads
a not-to-be missed read."

~Julia at Dark
Glass Ponderings

"I really
loved this simple little story; it was more than a romance, it was about a
woman finding herself, finding family, and most importantly—finding home . . .
. This is truly a quality book that I'd recommend to any fan of Christian
fiction."

~Kate at The Book
Buff

"Cathy
Bryant has made my 'New-Authors-to-keep-an-eye-on' list! Her writing was
flowing, easy to read, and captivating."

~Verlina at What
You Reading Now?

READ MORE REVIEWS AT

www.CatBryant.com

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* * *

A PATH LESS TRAVELED

Book
Two in the Miller’s Creek novels

by

Cathy
Bryant

SMASHWORDS
EDITION

* *
* * *

Published
by

WordVessel
Press

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* * *

A
Path Less Traveled

©
2010 by Cathy Bryant

Available
in print and eBook format both online and at leading retailers

ISBN
(Paperback Edition): 978-0-9844311-2-0

ISBN
(eBook Edition): 978-0-9844311-3-7

* *
* * *

All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in
any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by
any means (digital, electronic, scanning, photocopy, recording, or otherwise)
without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in
printed reviews and articles.

Scripture taken
from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used
by permission. All rights reserved.

This novel is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), business establishments,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

* *
* * *

“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.”

~Proverbs 3:5-6

* *
* * *

In
honor of my mom,
Carolyn
England
,

who
always encourages and inspires me on the path.

* *
* * *

Special Thanks To . . .

. . . my beta
readers, crit partners, and proofreaders: Barbie B., Barbie Y., Carolyn,
Hilary, Jimmie, Linda D., Linda W., Michelle, Molly, Ralene, Travis, and
Virginia. Words can’t express my gratitude for your invaluable help. Thanks for
bearing with me.

. . . Kellie
Southerland for the awesome cover design. Your magic touch helped bring this
book to life.

. . . numerous
online friends and blog readers who encouraged me and kept me laughing through
the ups and downs of writing this book.

. . . to my
church family. I love and appreciate you more than words can express.

. . . to Mom for
your willingness to help in whatever way you could. I love you.

. . . to my
awesome family: Josh, Jase, Megan, and Harrisen. I’m so incredibly blessed by
each of you.

. . . to my
awesome husband and first reader, Travis, for giving me wings. I wouldn’t want
to walk this path with anyone but you.

. . . to my Lord
and Savior, Jesus Christ. You are the reason for it all. Soli Deo Gloria

* *
* * *

Chapter 1

I
n spite of the
thousands of winking lights surrounding Trish James, a wedding somehow lost its
luster in the wake of death. She nudged her shucked shoes out of the way with
her big toe and adjusted the tulle on the wedding arch, the soft netlike fabric
billowing beneath her fingertips as she encased the twinkle lights. The church
sanctuary, with its white pews, stained-glass windows, and smoky blue carpet, served
as the perfect backdrop to her design.

“This wedding
must be hard on you after Doc’s death.” Dani spoke the words as if uncertain
she should speak at all.

The ache in
Trish’s heart started afresh, a wound that never healed, but she pushed it
aside with practiced expertise. This wedding wasn’t about her. “I’m fine. It’s
not every day my brother marries the most wonderful woman in the world.” She
forced a bright smile. “I’ve never seen Steve so happy.” Mom would’ve loved
this wedding.

Her
sister-in-law-to-be didn’t return the smile. Instead, the area above her clear
blue eyes creased. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.” Trish
snipped the word and bent low to snag a sprig of silk ivy, then inserted it in
the proper place and blinked away tears. In truth, it would be great to have
someone to share her concerns with, but within boundaries—not right before the
wedding, not with anyone who lived in Miller’s Creek, and
definitely
not
with family members. The last thing she wanted was for them to come to her
rescue.

She’d told
Delaine some of the situation, but her best friend since high school now lived
the fast-paced, Austin lifestyle, their conversations limited to when Delaine
didn’t have something else on her agenda.

“I can’t imagine
how difficult it is to be both mother and father to Little Bo.” Dani lowered
her head, blonde ringlets framing her face. “And then trying to start a
business on top of everything else.”

Oh, no. She
wasn’t going there. Trish clenched her teeth. Steve had already given her this
lecture. With his best brotherly concern, he’d told her she didn’t have to be
Superwoman. Yeah, right. Try telling that to her empty checkbook and
refrigerator. She glanced at Dani, who sat atop the piano railing, swinging her
legs. “Are you ready for the big day tomorrow?”

A happy glow
wreathed her friend’s face. “And the day after, and the day after that. I think
I’ve been getting ready to marry Steve my entire life.”

“I’m happy for
you both.” Though it hurt to speak the words, she meant it. It wasn’t their
fault her life was in the doldrums.

Dani sprang from
her perch and trotted down the steps to view the stage. “You have such a gift,
Trish. Everything looks magical.”

Trish gazed at
the curly willow branches she’d ordered and spray-painted white, now wrapped
with tiny sparks of light. The fairy tale forest blanketed the stage and
meandered down the side aisles in an aura of enchantment. Once the ribbons and
flowers were placed, and candles inserted into globes and nestled among the
boughs, her vision would be complete. “I hope it’s what you wanted.”

“It’s better than
I could’ve ever imagined.” Dani hurried over and draped an arm across her
shoulder. “Once everyone in Miller’s Creek see this, you’re gonna get loads of
business.”

A heavy sigh
whooshed from her before she could contain it. “From your lips to my bank
account.”

Dani’s eyes
clouded. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it and get it
over with. Are you okay? I mean . . . do you need to borrow money or
something?”

No. Yes. Yes. She
wasn’t okay. She needed money. She needed . . . something. “I’m fine.” The lie
popped out as she stepped to the box perched on the piano bench. With care she
lifted two delicate cracked-glass globes and moved to the candle stands. The
words “I’m fine” were her constant mantra these days, like saying them made
everything all right. Who was she kidding?

She closed her
eyes and reopened them with a slow blink, weary of pretending. But what choice
did she have? Her brother’s wedding wasn’t the time or place to air her
personal problems. Besides, she was thirty-two years old, more than old enough
to handle life on her own. A glance at her wristwatch sent her pulse on a
stampede. Still so much to do to make the decorations perfect.
God, please
let this bring me business
.

Dani plopped back
onto the railing. “Is Little Bo doing better?”

How could he be?
“Sure, if you don’t count the nightmares and barely letting me out of his
sight.” She omitted the fact that he was a hairsbreadth away from flunking
kindergarten, unless she could help him catch up before the school year ended.

“So the
psychologist is helping?”

Before Trish
could respond, the double white doors at the rear of the church burst open.
Incessant rain poured from the April sky and silhouetted a person’s form. Dani
let out a squeal. “Andy!”

The petite blonde
flew down the steps toward her friend.

Trish vaguely
remembered the man from the time he’d spent in Miller’s Creek during the
downtown renovation, though she didn’t recall ever having met him. Today he
wore a lightweight suit with a loosened necktie, and had an easy-going smile
that brightened the room. “Hey, girl. How’s the bride?”

Dani looked up at
him, her face radiant. “Never better.”

“Yeah, I can see
that.”

She tugged his
arm. “Come here. I want you to meet someone.”

His loose-limbed
gait gave the impression of someone always relaxed, like he’d just returned
from a vacation at the beach.

“This is Andy
Tyler, my friend and attorney from Dallas. Andy, this is Steve’s sister.”

Sea-green eyes
sparkled. “Well, does Steve’s sister have a name?” He jogged up the steps and
held out a hand, his smile still bright.

Trish laughed and
took his hand. “I’m Trish James. Nice to meet you.”

Dani’s face took
on a crimson hue. “Sorry. Guess my mind is elsewhere.”

Andy’s gaze rested
on Trish’s bare feet. “Glad to know you have a name. What about shoes?”

She couldn’t help
but smile. “I got rid of them hours ago.”

The hall door
squeaked behind them, and Mama Beth, the mother figure of all of Miller’s Creek
and Dani’s biological mother, bustled into the room. Along with her came the
smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from the fellowship hall. Trish could almost
taste the melt-in-your-mouth rolls. Maybe she could sneak a few leftovers for
her and Bo to nibble on next week.

The older woman
gazed around the room. “My goodness, Trish, if this isn’t the most gorgeous
thing I’ve ever seen.” Mama Beth hugged Andy’s neck. “Hi, Andy.”

A tender gleam
lit his eyes as he wrapped his arms around the older woman’s shoulders and
kissed her cheek. “Hi, sweet lady.” He turned raised eyebrows to Trish. “You
did all this?”

She ducked her
head and pushed a silky strand of hair behind one ear.

“All of it,”
gushed Dani, “and wait until you see the fellowship hall.”

“Speaking of
fellowship hall, I could sure use your help in the kitchen.” Mama Beth’s voice
took on a commanding tone as she scuttled to the door. “We’ve got enough work
to do for this rehearsal dinner to keep an entire army busy.”

Dani looked torn.
“But I can’t leave Trish down here to do all this by herself.”

Trish wrestled
the wieldy greenery in place, longing to comment that she didn’t need help. It
would suit her just fine if they’d all go away and leave her alone.

Andy rested his
hands on his hips in mock protest, his tan jacket pulled back. “What am I? Pork
belly? I’ll help Trish. You go help Mama Beth.” He held up a hand. “Trust me
when I say I’ll be more help here than in the kitchen.”

“Good point. I’ve
had your cooking.” Dani grinned and rushed after Mama Beth. “Y’all know where
to find us if you need help.”

Andy chuckled and
shed his jacket, then laid it across the front pew and turned her way. “What
can I do to help?”

Trish mentally
checked her to-do list. “I was actually waiting for someone with more muscles
than me to come around. There’s a box full of candles I need brought in from my
Suburban.” She pointed toward the side door. “It’s out there and it’s
unlocked.”

He gave a mock
salute that bounced his sandy curls. “Yes ma’am.” Andy’s stocky frame loped
down the steps and disappeared through the doorway.