A Path Less Traveled (29 page)

“You already
have. More than you know.”

Behind them, Hector
cleared his throat.

Trish pulled back
and fidgeted with her napkin.

“Hope you like
seafood.” Hector placed a covered tray on the table, and Andy lifted the lid to
reveal boiled shrimp and grilled amberjack.

“I love it, but
there’s no way I can eat that much.” She turned to Hector. “I didn’t know you
knew how to cook seafood, too.”

An approaching
motor boat garnered their attention.

“Looks like my
ride is here,” announced Hector. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

Andy smiled and
shook Hector’s hand. “No thanks. I think we can handle it from here.”

Hector waved and
climbed onto the other boat. As it sped away, Trish squirmed in her seat, her
discomfort obvious. Andy did all he could to lighten the mood. Finally, he got
her to relax by sharing some of Bo’s antics during their horse ride the
previous day.

The rest of the
meal was filled with great conversation and laughter. Finally, Trish leaned
back, both hands on her stomach, and groaned. “I can’t eat another bite.”

“Me either.” Andy
wiped his hands and mouth, then laid the linen napkin beside his plate. “Mind
if I ask you a question?”

“Of course not.”

“You mentioned
once that you felt like God sent me your way. You still feel that way?”

She frowned. “In
some ways.”

His heart
lurched. “What do you mean?”

“I do believe He
sent you our way. I’m just not sure how far our friendship is supposed to go.”
She moistened her lips and looked at him directly. “I enjoy your company.
You’ve been wonderful for Bo. I just can’t get past the fact that it hasn’t
even been a year since Doc died.”

“Your dad and
Mama Beth—”

“That’s a
completely different situation.”

He longed to tell
her that it was indeed a different situation. She had a son who needed a daddy.

Trish sighed. “I
just wish I knew what God wanted.”

How could he get
through to her? “That’s what I like about that verse on the box I gave you. We
don’t have to know, or question why. We just have to trust.”

“I wish it were
that simple.”

“It is simple.
We’re the ones who make it complex.” He turned her chin to face him, taking a
moment to search her eyes. “Earlier tonight when I was looking at your
painting, you said something about staying with a work until you got it just
right. That’s one of a thousand things I love about you.”

She pulled away,
rested her elbows on the table, and laid her chin on top of laced fingers, her
lips curved up ever so slightly.

“God’s the same
way with us, Trish. He’s always working to make things just right. He’s the One
painting the picture.”

Her dark eyes
took on a soft glow, one he could get lost in if he weren’t careful. He reached
up to capture a strand of her hair and rubbed its silkiness between his
fingers. “You feel up to a boat ride?”

She nodded.

Andy stood and
held out a hand. She latched on and rose to her feet. He led her to the cockpit
and nestled her in beside him while they boated around the lake, now molten
gold in the ebbing sunlight.

Neither of them
spoke, but Trish gave a contented sigh and relaxed into his embrace, resting
her head against his shoulder. He longed to glance at her, but was too afraid
of breaking the spell.

An hour later,
the stars began to peek through the darkened sky. He made his way back across
the lake and motored up to the dock. “I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I
did.”

“Very much.” She
laid a hand on his arm, her chocolate eyes peering into his. “I can’t remember
the last time I enjoyed something this much.”

“My pleasure.”
His gaze traveled to her full lips, and the next thing he knew he kissed her—a
soft, sweet kiss, which she returned.

Then just as
quickly as it began, she pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” she said, bringing
trembling fingers to her lips. “I didn’t mean to kiss you.”

He caressed her
arms. “Hey, it’s okay. And for the record, I kissed you.”

Trish’s smile
disappeared. “Andy, I’m not sure about this. I mean, I don’t even know if I’ll
be staying in Miller’s Creek, and it’s so soon after Doc’s death . . .”

“Shh.” Andy
pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly, his cheek resting on her
strawberry-scented hair. He refused to ruin this perfect evening with the
thought of losing her. “I promise not to rush you. We’ll just take one day at a
time and see where God leads.”

She peered up at
him, uncertainty inscribed on her features, studying his face for a long minute
before she nodded her head.

As Andy arrived
back at his modest apartment above City Hall later that night, his mind reeling
with the events of the day, he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving and praise
to God for the wonderful evening with Trish. Things weren’t perfect, and there
were still obstacles to overcome, but at the very least, they’d made great
strides forward.

He removed his
dinner jacket, wandered to the answering machine, and pushed the play button,
jotting down the messages on a legal pad. The last one in particular caught his
attention and sent fear speeding through his veins.

“Otis Thacker
here. I’ve decided to go ahead with the lawsuit against Trish.”

Chapter 26

T
rish dabbed the last
brush stroke on the over-sized painting and imagined the dimpled grin on Andy’s
face when she presented it to him. It would look perfect hanging in his new
office. Though time had been scarce because of work and getting ready for the Dallas exhibit, she’d pulled two weeks of long days to copy the painting she’d sold in
Morganville.

She stood back
and viewed the piece in the last rays of daylight. It was the best she’d done
yet and the very least she could do for the man who’d made such a difference in
Bo’s life. The change in her son was nothing less than miraculous, and it was
all because of Andy.

The memory of the
evening they’d spent at the lake flooded to the front of her mind, sending
warmth throughout her body as she remembered his kiss. He’d been true to his
promise and hadn’t tried to kiss her again. Disappointment flooded her heart,
and she released a heavy sigh. It was for the best.

An unexpected
clap of thunder broke her reverie. She peered out the long expanse of windows
toward the meadow. A black cloud hung low and ominous. If it were April or May,
she’d be headed to Dad’s basement.

Hurrying to the
door, she flung it open and stepped out into stifling summer heat.
Grayish-green clouds swirled above her head. Everything was perfectly still.
Too still. Leaves hung limp from the trees, with not even the slightest of
breezes to make them dance, and the mockingbirds had hushed their incessant
copycat cries.

Trish started for
the house. She had to call Andy to warn him, then she needed to get to him and
Little Bo before the storm broke.

As she made her
way to the door, pea-sized hailstones and heavy raindrops pounded to the dusty
earth, sending up puffs of dirt and releasing the familiar musky scent of a Texas rainstorm. Covering her head with her arms, she sprinted the rest of the way and
headed straight for the phone, raindrops sliding down her face into her mouth.

Andy picked up on
the first ring, unleashing a torrent of words. “Where have you been? I’ve been
trying to call you for the past half hour. We’re under a tornado warning.”

“Sorry, I didn’t
take my cell phone out to the cottage.” Then his words sank in. “But it’s not
the right time of year for a tornado.”

“That tropical
storm that hit the coast this morning is spawning them all across the state.”

The hail banged
louder against the metal roof. She raised her voice. “Are you and Bo okay?”

“We’re fine. We
headed to the church basement along with the rest of the town when the sirens
started to blow. You need to take cover now.”

But what if Bo
needed her? “I’ll be fine. I’m coming to town. Bo is terrified of storms.”

“No!” Andy’s shout
sounded above the racket the hail stones made on the steel roof. “Stay put and
take cover. Do not get out in this storm. Understand?”

Trish started to
argue, but the phone went dead, and a howling wail rumbled through the house
like a freight train. She dashed toward the hall bathroom, her heart
ricocheting in her chest.
Lord, protect us.

Just as she
closed the door behind her, the house groaned and creaked, the pounding so loud
she thought the roof might cave. Her leg muscles liquefied, and she sank to the
floor. The walls shook, like a giant hand had closed around the house and
wiggled it back and forth.

From outside, the
sound of trees snapping and glass breaking accented the horrific roar. The
lighthouse picture Doc had bought on their honeymoon crashed to the floor
beside her, and a shard of glass slashed into her arm, blood spurting from the
open wound. The lights flickered off, leaving her in total darkness. Trish
tucked her head between her knees and prayed.

Then, just as
suddenly as it hit, it was over. She rose, her knees still weak and wobbly, and
peeked out the bathroom door. Except for broken window panes and fallen
pictures and knick-knacks, the house looked miraculously the same. From the
treacherous racket, she’d been convinced that not a stick would be left
standing. She cautiously moved to the back door and opened it.

The blood rushed
from her head, and she leaned against the door frame to keep from falling.
Debris littered the area, trees snapped in two like toothpicks, their branches
stripped bare. Where the cottage once stood, only a gray expanse of concrete
remained, and scattered across the backyard were her cottage and paintings—the
last remnants of her attempt to stay in Miller’s Creek—the last shreds of her
shattered hope.

* *
* * *

Trish battled
tears as she swerved to avoid the massive live oaks blocking part of the road
in front of the main ranch house. Their exposed roots were gnarled hands
clawing the sky, while holes gaped nearby like giant wounds upon the land. She
loved those old oaks. Losing them was like losing childhood friends.

Her thoughts
turned to Bo. Surely he and Andy were safe. After all, they’d been in the
church basement. Dad wasn’t at home, which meant he was with Mama Beth. She’d
tried calling all of them on her cell phone, but only received the pleasant
voice of a woman telling her that all circuits were currently busy and to
please try again.

Fresh doubts
surfaced and sent panic to tap dance in her stomach. What if the church had
been hit and the basement had caved in? What if Bo and Andy were trapped
beneath the rubble? Her throat cinched, and she floored the accelerator.

As she reached
Miller’s Creek, fear nipped at her mind and her jaw hung slack. Trees crushed
houses. Cars looked like toys tossed to the ground by a careless child. She had
to get to Bo and Andy.
Now!

A minute later
she braked to a hurried halt outside the church, which appeared undamaged.
People huddled in groups, obviously in a state of shock. Steve met her at the
curb, engulfing her in a bear hug. “Sis, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Trish pulled
away, her trembling hands finding their way to her face. “Bo. Where’s Bo?” Her
voice elevated with each word.

“Relax. He’s
fine. Andy took him to check on you since there’s no phone service. They may have
stopped by his new office on their way. Supposedly that side of town took a
pretty hard hit.” He looked down at her cut arm. “You need to get that tended
to. I’ll go see if I can find something.” He raced toward the church.

She didn’t have
time to wait. Instead, she climbed in her car and tore out for the other side
of town, her heart in her throat. Until she saw Bo and Andy with her own eyes,
she couldn’t rest. As she neared the downtown area, the destruction before her
eyes stole her breath, and it became evident she’d have to abandon her car and
travel on foot.

Ernie, the town
policeman, stood nearby holding back traffic. She tried to sneak past, but
Ernie saw her. “Trish, this area is blocked off for emergency personnel only.
There are electrical lines down.” In high alert mode, he barked out the words.

“I have to find
Little Bo. He’s in there.” Without waiting for permission, she raced ahead.
Steering clear of downed electrical lines, her feet pounded against the
pavement as she dodged debris. But when she turned the corner, she came to an
abrupt stop.

A shiver ran down
her arms and spine. The new office looked almost as bad as her now non-existent
cottage. Were they still here? The milling crowds separated, and Andy came into
view, Bo clinging to his neck.

In a heartbeat,
she found herself in Andy’s embrace, with no recollection of how she got there.

He hugged her
tightly, his breath hot against her cheek. “Thank you, God.” His voice trembled
with suppressed emotion.

She could hold
back no longer, and wails ripped from her throat. The depth of her fierce love
for Bo and Andy burned like fire in her stomach. She could’ve easily lost them
both.

Andy hugged her
close again and kissed her cheek. “Shh, it’s okay. You know I wouldn’t let
anything happen to Bo.”

Trish nodded, too
embarrassed and shocked to tell him her tears weren’t only for her son. She
pulled away, wiping her eyes with her palms. “I know. Thanks for taking such
good care of him.”

Bo released his
death grip on Andy and fell into her arms, snuggling his head under her chin.
She planted a kiss on his silky hair, the citrusy scent of his shampoo pouring
into her senses. More tears streamed down her cheeks.