A Path Less Traveled (10 page)

A
ndy parked his car in
the popular West End district of Dallas and hurried to an upscale bistro to
catch an early lunch. The past weekend had given him more questions than
answers, and he was still no closer to a decision on moving to Miller’s Creek.
On top of everything, he hadn’t been able to get Trish and Bo out of his mind.
Like a Texas-sized mosquito, it constantly buzzed in his thoughts.

He entered the
restaurant and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark interior, while enjoying
the delectable aroma. Then a familiar voice caught his attention—one he hadn’t
heard since the night before he was supposed to get married.

Sheila.

He turned his
back and prayed she wouldn’t see him. Hoped she’d think he was just another
person waiting for a table at the packed-to-capacity restaurant.

“Andy?” The
syrupy voice he’d once found adorable now curdled his stomach.

He attached a
smile to his face and pivoted to deal with her head-on. “Sheila. Sure didn’t
expect to see you here.”

The perceptive
look that crossed her face let him know that his clumsy attempt to act
surprised hadn’t worked. Sheila smirked. “Come on, Andy, we can be big people.
There’s no way we’re going to avoid running into each other from time to time.”
A predatory glint appeared in her eyes, and she stretched her red claws toward
him.

Andy shook her
hand in a gesture of friendship then wiped his hand on his pants. Her grasp
always had a clammy feel that freaked him out.

“Andy, I’d like
you to meet my friend, Chase.” She offered no further explanation.

Not that he
needed one. The way she had her arm possessively linked in his pretty much said
it all. “Nice to meet you, Chase. Let me guess, you in banking?”

“Close. Personal
finance. How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”
Educated guess based on Sheila’s expensive tastes.

Chase, the
all-American-guy type, grinned to reveal a toothpaste-commercial smile. “How do
you two know each other?”

Sheila leaned
back and shook her head, eyes wide.

Andy chuckled.
“Let me tell him, Sheila. It’s such an interesting story, don’t you think?” A
look of horror washed over her face, but he continued. “Sheila and I were
engaged. In fact, the night before our wedding I caught her kissing her old
boyfriend.”

Chase’s
toothpaste grin faded. Andy patted his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Chase. Keep
an eye out for those old boyfriends of hers. She collects ‘em like Barbie
dolls.” Andy whirled around and stomped out the door, the delicious food smells
stalking him.

He let out a
frustrated breath as he pulled out of the parking space into typical Dallas traffic. Sheila was right. They ran in the same circles, and he couldn’t avoid her.
She’d serve as a constant reminder of his bachelorhood. On the bright side,
she’d also be a reminder of the out-of-control fast ball he’d dodged.

Though the
confrontation with Sheila left a queasy feeling in his gut, his hunger pangs
were stronger. He pulled into a fast-food drive-through and ordered a burger
to-go, then headed back to the office.

Andy entered
through the back door and hurried to his suite. A boring shade of beige greeted
him. Beige walls, beige carpet. A different kind of prison, but a prison
none-the-less.

He’d just plopped
down in his leather desk chair when Debbie, the firm’s receptionist, buzzed
him. “Mr. Wayne on line one.”

“Thanks, Deb.” He
pressed the button. “Mr. Wayne, this is Andy Tyler. How can I help you?”

“As much dough as
I’m shelling out, you’d think you could get my son’s case moving along a little
faster.” Mr. Wayne, his voice razor-edged, was obviously used to getting what
he wanted when he wanted it.

Andy pressed a
hand to his stomach, which felt more unsettled with each tick of the clock.
When would these wealthy dads realize he had no control over the speed of the
justice system? Better yet, when would they start showering their kids with
time instead of money? Then they wouldn’t need his services. “Mr. Wayne, the
judge sets the date of the hearing, not me. I promise as soon as I know more,
I’ll be in contact.”

The man didn’t
express a ‘thank you’ or a ‘good-bye,’ but slammed the phone with so much force
Andy’s ear continued to ring long after he laid down the receiver.

He peeled back
the paper wrapper on his burger to take a bite, his mouth salivating, but the
buzzer sounded again.

“Yes?” He pelted
the word in frustration.

“Mr. Robert Simms
on line one.”

As soon as he
said hello, Andy regretted taking the call.

“Mr. Tyler, I’m
in debt collection, and our records show your father has neglected six months
of payment on his overdue account. We thought you might like the opportunity to
help him before we take legal action.” He spoke the words in a matter-of-fact
monotone.

Andy ran a hand
down his neck. “How much this time?”

“Two thousand
plus.”

“Send me an
itemized bill.” He gave the man his fax number, then banged the phone to the
receiver, his insides pure acid. He’d had all he could take, and it was only
noon. He buzzed Debbie.

“Yes, sir?”

“Hold all calls
until further notice.” He slouched in his chair and scarfed down his now cold
burger. The constant phone calls and meetings were part of his job, but
everything else was his choice. And a choice meant he could determine what to
do next. He could stay in Dallas with a life he now hated, or he could move to
Miller’s Creek.

His thoughts
turned to Trish and Little Bo. Under the tragic circumstances, there would be
challenging days ahead, but he yearned to do for Little Bo what Lester had done
for him—to make a difference.

He’d already
crunched numbers and met with the Miller’s Creek city attorney. It’d be tough
at first, but between the job for the city and picking up private clients on
the side, it should work.

Andy drafted a
quick e-mail to his partner to request a conference, then called Steve to
confirm his decision to take the job. A few minutes later, he hung up the
phone, his plan taking on new dimension. He tilted the chair back and laced his
fingers behind his head, his confidence skyrocketing. Why hadn’t he decided to
make a fresh start a long time ago?

Next order of
business . . . to call Trish.

* *
* * *

Trish’s legs
thrashed. The anger in Dad’s eyes sent waves of shame crashing over her. “I
told you no, and you did it anyway! Your disobedience put you and your brother
in danger!”

She bolted to an
upright position, her heart pounding against her ribs, and peered groggily
around the room, the bed sheet twisted around her ankles. Just a nightmare. She
brought a hand to her face and breathed out her relief. It’d been years since
she’d remembered the time she deliberately went for a horse ride against her
father’s orders. Along a gravelly butte, her horse had slipped and hurled them
both into a ravine. Steve had risked his life to rescue her.

Trish flopped
back against her pillow. Funny how a childhood memory could still haunt you.
She was in the ravine again, and the blame lay squarely on her shoulders.
Letting the insurance lapse had been an accident, but it was still her fault.
Would Steve and Dad have to rescue her once again?

The alarm clock
usually glared red numbers, but this morning it was blank. From behind the
mini-blinds the sky glowed brightly. Trish hustled out of bed and snatched her
cell phone, gasping when she saw the readout. Almost eleven? They’d overslept,
and on the day she planned to take Bo back to school. She ran to the kitchen.
The microwave clock was blank, too. The electric company must have grown tired
of waiting for payment and turned off her power.

She scrambled to
wake Little Bo and get him ready, grabbed the last granola bar for him to eat
in the car, and dashed to school. Within thirty minutes they stood outside the
brick and stone building. “But I don’t wanna go to school, Mommy. Please don’t
make me.”

Trish knelt in
front of him in the gravel parking lot. He thrust out his bottom lip and cocked
his head to one side. Puppy dog eyes—she hated when he used his puppy dog eyes.
“Sweetie, you have to. Mommy has to go to work so she can pay your baseball
fees. And someone I know has a birthday coming up.” She smiled and tickled his
belly.

He pulled away.
“I don’t wanna play baseball.” He hung his head and stuck his thumb in his
mouth.

Why did this have
to be so hard? She rose to her feet, grabbed his hand, and started for the
building. “I’m sorry, Bo, but you have to go to school.”

Her son whimpered
and drug his feet.

Trish gulped in
air, yanked open the steel door, and side-stepped a group of teachers who stood
in the hall. She ignored their stares and whispers and continued on to his
classroom. Good timing. The class had just returned from lunch and was pulling
out their nap mats under the supervision of Mrs. Walsh.

Disregarding the
woman’s stare, Trish ushered Bo to his cubby to put his backpack away. Carla
Clark’s son stood nearby with a group of boys. “Look, the thumb-sucker’s back.”
He pointed at Bo and laughed. The other kids followed his lead.

Trish sent them a
hard stare, then guided Bo to a table where children were working puzzles.
“Look, Bo, you love puzzles.” She pulled out a chair, and he sat with
reluctance.

With a deep
breath, she marched to Mrs. Walsh’s desk. The woman seemed a little more
approachable today. “Mrs. Walsh, Bo told me the Clark boy has been calling him
names on the playground. That’s why he started the fight.” The teacher opened
her mouth, but Trish continued. If she didn’t get the words out, she’d lose her
nerve. “I’ve had a talk with Bo about his behavior, and he’s promised not to
let it happen again. Could you please see that the other boy is kept away from
my son?”

“Mrs. James, I
can’t do that. I will have a talk with Brody, but Bo has to learn to get along
with the other children. He’s already a loner. It’s not good for him to be
isolated.”

Tears threatened,
but she blinked to hold them at bay. “I know, but right now he’s fragile. If
you could just try to help him through until the end of the school year, I’d
appreciate it.”

“I’ll do what I
can,” she said, a begrudging tint to her voice.

“Thank you.”
Trish hurried to where Bo sat, his eyes pinned on her. She bent down to give
him a hug. “I have to go.”

He frowned, his
dark eyes moist. “Mommy, please.”

Her stomach
churned. This was for his own good. “After school I’ll take you for ice cream
and a trip to the park.” Trish ran from the room before he caused a scene.

Behind her Little
Bo started to sob. Not only was she a horrible businesswoman, she was a
horrible mother. She pushed through a line of children and out the door,
shaking and crying. Only when she reached the privacy of her car did she give
in to her tumultuous emotions. She cried all the way to the store.

As she unlocked
the door to Designs By Trish, her stomach grumbled. She set down her things in
the musty-smelling building, grabbed a package of saltines, and gulped down
three or four to appease her growling belly. Okay, she could do this. She had
to for Bo’s sake. Trish opened her desk drawer and retrieved the phone book.

A while later she
clicked her phone shut. The last call had been made, and no one needed their
store fronts decorated. Now what? Call people to see if they wanted their
living rooms redone? She rested her forehead against the heel of her palm.
God,
I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to trust You, but when the checking account
is overdrawn and we need groceries, it’s kind of hard. Help me.