On Lone Star Trail (27 page)

“And the food.” Gillian added the way Mike was able to poke fun at himself to the list of his admirable qualities.

He chuckled. “Well, that too. It's pretty amazing food. You have your choice of beef or pork or both, and if you like fries, they serve regular and sweet potato fries along with onion rings and the best slaw in the county.”

“It's a good thing we're not on video chat, because I'm practically drooling.” Gillian leaned back in her seat, enjoying the gentle banter she and Mike were sharing. Other than last night, she could not recall a time when she hadn't been comfortable with him.

“Now that's something I can't picture—the elegant Gillian Hodge drooling. Fortunately, there shouldn't be any paparazzi there, although my campaign manager wouldn't mind if there were. He's grateful for all the free publicity we got last night.”

It was Gillian's turn to sigh with relief. “I'm glad to hear that. I wasn't sure whether it was good or bad.”

“Definitely good.” Mike echoed Kate's assertion that any notice from the media was good. “Dinner on Tuesday would be even better. Will you go with me?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

When she arrived at the senior center, half a dozen women including Sally were waiting for the tai chi instructor. Though Gillian greeted them, pleased that she recognized most of them and remembered their names, she remained on the sidelines once the instructor arrived. It was amazing to see how quickly the women moved from the natural awkwardness of unfamiliar positions to something that resembled the instructor's movements. By the end of the class, everyone was laughing, leaving Gillian no doubt that putting tai chi on the schedule had been a good idea. Her only regret was that TJ was not here to capture the students' progress in pictures.

“That was fun!” Sally declared as she snagged a doughnut and sank into a chair next to Gillian. “I'm going to try to convince Roy to come next time and bring some of his buddies. We need to show Dupree that real men do tai chi.”

“Shall I alert the media?”

“Why not? I saw you got your share last night.”

Gillian wrinkled her nose. “Is there anyone who hasn't seen those pictures?”

“In Dupree? Probably not. Our grapevine is the fastest in the state.” Sally took a bite of doughnut, savoring what was supposed to be a forbidden treat. “I haven't met Mike, but from everything I've heard, he's a good guy. It's just too bad that he's not a minister. If he was, I'd know he was the one for you.”

“Oh, Sally, you never give up, do you?”

“No, and you shouldn't either. You need to keep looking for the preacher man.”

What would Sally say if she knew Gillian had found one?

He was an idiot. TJ downshifted to climb the hill, frowning as he thought about what he'd done. Kissing Gillian Hodge was the dumbest, most idiotic thing he'd done in years. It was true that he'd felt closer to her last night than he had to anyone since Deb had died. It was true that he'd wanted to comfort Gillian when he'd seen how distressed she was. It was true that Gillian had helped him sort out his thoughts and that, thanks to her, he had begun to restore his relationship with God, but none of those were reasons to kiss her. The worst part was, even though he'd told her it was a mistake, TJ did not regret the kiss.

He took a deep breath as he crested Ranger Hill and descended into Dupree. It had felt so good, so right, to hold Gillian in his arms, to feel the softness of her lips, to inhale the sweet yet spicy scent of her perfume. His fingers could still remember how her hair felt like silk, how her skin was as smooth as satin, and when he'd heard her soft sigh, it had sent tremors down his spine, reminding him of an earthquake's aftershock.

The kiss had been wonderful. It had been unforgettable. It had also been wrong. Gillian had been vulnerable. So had he, for that matter, but the fact was, he'd taken advantage of Gillian's vulnerability. He'd kissed her when her defenses were down, when he should have offered nothing more than words. Even though the kiss had confirmed the depth of his feelings for her, it was too soon. He needed to continue his conversation with God, to learn what he had in store for TJ. Until he settled his future, TJ had no right to take his relationship with Gillian to the next level. But he had let himself kiss her, and that definitely made him an idiot.

Gillian slid her sunglasses down from their perch on top of her head. The sun was overhead and bright enough to burn unprotected skin in just a few minutes, making her regret that she hadn't worn a long-sleeved shirt or slathered sunblock on her arms. If she hurried, she'd be inside the car before her skin turned pink. Though there had been an open spot on Pecan Street, she'd parked around the corner on Avenue J to leave the closer spots for the seniors.

She rounded the corner, her stride faltering at the sight of the couple leaning against the big black truck, lost in a passionate embrace. Brianna and Pete. Gillian took a deep breath, trying to quell the uneasiness that filled her whenever she thought about those two together. According to TJ, Pete was well aware of Brianna's age. Admittedly, there was nothing illegal about kissing, but it still bothered Gillian.

A quick glance at her watch told her it was a quarter past noon. Though she'd planned to fill up her gas tank before having lunch at the Sit ‘n' Sip, this was more important. She climbed into the car and headed back toward Rainbow's End, hoping she wouldn't appear to be a busybody.

When she arrived in Firefly Valley, Gillian felt relief flow through her at the sight of a car parked next to the Carters' RV. As she'd hoped, Natalie was still at home. This was not a conversation she wanted to have at the supermarket where Natalie worked.

“I didn't expect to see you today,” the attractive woman said when she opened the door. “You got another permission slip for Brianna?”

“No.” Gillian looked around, noticing a couple neighbors within earshot. “Could I come in for a few minutes? I want to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Natalie shoved a pile of magazines off the couch to make room for Gillian. “What's going on?”

Now that she was here, Gillian wasn't certain how to begin. Perhaps this whole trip had been a mistake. Perhaps Natalie would think she was intruding into what wasn't her business. But she was here.

“I'm a little worried about Brianna,” she said carefully. “I wanted to be certain you were okay with the guy she's dating.”

“Pete Darlington?” Natalie spat the name as if it had poisoned her tongue.

“Mm-hmm. I didn't want to interfere, but I wasn't sure you knew about him.”

“I know about him all right.” Natalie's frown left no doubt of her disapproval. “He's all Brianna can talk about. Pete this. Pete that.” Her frown deepened. “Just because I know my daughter's seeing him don't mean I approve. I don't. I told Brianna she couldn't see him again, but the fact that you're here tells me she's doing just that.” Pain filled Natalie's dark eyes. “She is, isn't she?”

“I'm afraid so. I saw them in town. They were . . .”

“Kissing. Maybe even more.” Natalie completed the sentence. “Brianna's making the same mistake I did. She's letting her head get turned by fancy words and a truck. She thinks she's in love. Fact is, what she really loves is the idea of an older man being interested in her. Pete has a job, so he can give her things like that scarf she was wearing the other day. I'm afraid she's gonna wind up like me, a single mother before she finishes high school.”

Natalie reached out to Gillian and grabbed her hands. “I don't know what to do. I can't lock her inside here when I'm gone, but I gotta do something. You got any ideas how to control her?”

Gillian nodded. “TJ's talked to Pete—twice, in fact—so he knows Brianna's a minor. That doesn't seem to have stopped him, though. Maybe you should talk to the police.”

Natalie shook her head. “It won't work. My mama tried that with me. It just made me more determined to marry Earl. There's gotta be another way.”

Unfortunately, Gillian couldn't think of one.

H
ey, Mr. B. Got a minute?”

TJ grinned. He was still getting used to his new name. In the past, students had always referred to him as Mr. Benjamin, at least within his hearing, but Todd had started the abbreviation, and others had followed his example.

The slight hesitation in Todd's voice made TJ suspect his question was not related to the latest homework assignment. “Sure. What's going on?” It had been a week since Todd had come to the evening gatherings at Firefly Valley, and he'd been unusually silent during class, giving TJ little clue to what he was thinking. In all likelihood, Brianna was the reason for both Todd's absence and his uncharacteristic reticence, but TJ knew better than to rely on assumptions.

Todd looked around the rapidly emptying classroom. “It's private.”

“Of course.” As soon as the last student left the room, TJ closed the door and returned to the front. That way if someone did enter, they'd be less likely to overhear him and Todd. Perching on the edge of his desk and hoping his casual position would
put the boy at ease, TJ raised an eyebrow before he repeated his question. “What's going on?”

Apparently unwilling to meet his gaze, Todd stared out the window. “It's what isn't going on that's the problem. We used to be a couple, but now Brianna's seeing that older guy, Pete Something-or-other.”

“Darlington. He's part of the crew working on the Carroll complex.” Todd might as well know who his rival was.

“So what do I do? How do I get her back?” This time Todd looked directly at TJ. Though he kept his voice even, the tick at the corner of his eye revealed his stress.

“Have you tried talking to her?” TJ doubted that would have any effect at this point in Brianna's infatuation with Pete, but it might be worth a try.

“Yeah.” Todd was back to staring, this time at the floor. “She won't listen. I left notes in her locker the way we always do, but she won't answer them. I even asked my dad what to do.”

Remembering how hard it had been to admit that he needed advice when he was Todd's age, TJ figured the boy must have been desperate to have done that. “What did he say?”

“That I deserve better than someone who'd dump me and I need to move on.” The advice was sound and was in fact what TJ would have suggested, but he knew it wasn't what Todd wanted to hear. “That's easy for him to say.” Todd scuffed the floor with his boot. “He doesn't know how I feel. My mom wouldn't be any help, 'cuz she's a girl, but you understand.”

When TJ raised an eyebrow, startled by Todd's assertion, the teen continued. “I know you understand. You have to, 'cuz you're in the same situation. The girl you love is dating another guy.”

“I don't . . .” TJ broke off the sentence. Though he'd started to deny that he loved Gillian, he couldn't, not without lying to both himself and Todd. The truth was, he did love her. He'd been brushing the memories of the kiss and the feelings they'd uncovered aside, trying to tell himself what he felt was nothing
more than caring, one step above friendship but a mile away from love. He'd been deluding himself. Just as Gillian's discussion of anger had forced TJ to examine his behavior and ask for God's forgiveness, Todd's simple statement had forced him to accept the truth about her. He loved Gillian. It might not be the same kind of love he'd felt for Deb, but that didn't make it any less real.

TJ gripped the edge of the desk as he tried to make sense of his feelings. Though he knew many widowed and divorced men found a second chance at love, he hadn't expected that to happen to him. He'd believed he was like Gillian's father—a one-woman man. How wrong could a man be? He loved Gillian, loved her deeply. The reason it had taken him so long to admit it was that he'd believed he was betraying his love for Deb. Now he realized that his love for Gillian wasn't wrong, even though it was very different from what he'd shared with Deb.

TJ had heard one of the seniors talking about her second husband, claiming one had been like silver, the other like gold. At the time, he'd paid little attention, but now he realized how poor the analogy was. Silver had less value than gold. Surely the woman didn't mean that one husband was less loved than the other. In thinking about Deb and Gillian, TJ decided it was more accurate to say that one was like a peony, the other a lilac. They were two very different women, but each was special in her own way.

“Is something wrong, Mr. B? You look like you saw a ghost.”

TJ shook his head. “It's more like I saw the light,” he told the boy.

“Does that mean you know what I should do to get Brianna back?”

Once again TJ shook his head. Though he hated to disappoint Todd, he was the last person to be giving advice to the lovelorn. “I'd like to tell you I had a better answer than your dad did, but I don't.” TJ slid his feet to the floor and clapped
Todd on the shoulder. “I guess we both have to wait and see how this turns out.”

Gillian tipped her head to one side, holding the position as she tried to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. Though it was only mid-afternoon, she was exhausted. She hadn't slept well for the last few nights, ever since the kiss that she still had not been able to put out of her mind. The exhilaration she'd felt the first morning had faded. Now she was torn between wanting to talk to TJ about not just the kiss but everything they'd shared that night and fearing what he might say.

Frowning, Gillian repeated the neck stretch on the other side. As it turned out, she'd had no opportunity to speak with TJ. He'd missed supper Saturday night and had excused himself as soon as he'd eaten the last bite of dessert on Sunday. The message was clear: he didn't want to talk, at least not to Gillian. He'd seemed preoccupied, and while he hadn't ignored Gillian, he hadn't confided in her. That was what had kept her tossing and turning for most of the night.

She didn't understand what had changed. It was one thing for TJ to say the kiss had been a mistake. Though she didn't agree with him, Gillian understood why he hadn't wanted her to believe they had any future together. No matter how she felt, TJ was like her dad and could give his heart to only one woman. But that didn't explain why he'd backed away from her. Gillian had thought they were friends—good friends.

She straightened her neck, then curled it forward, thankful for the momentary lull between customers. When she'd wakened feeling as if she'd had no more than two hours of sleep, she'd promised herself a nap this afternoon. Unfortunately, that plan had failed when the woman who was supposed to work from two until closing called in sick.

Unwilling to close the store, especially since Mondays were one of the busiest days, Gillian had agreed to stay until Marisa could wrap up things at Rainbow's End and relieve her. In the meantime, she kept a smile on her face as she helped customers find everything from cookbooks to the latest bestsellers.

The store phone rang, interrupting Gillian's yoga-inspired exercises.

“I'm on my way,” Marisa said. “I can't thank you enough for staying.”

“It's what friends do.” As she hung up the phone, Gillian nodded. Marisa had become a friend, as had Lauren. Perhaps that was the reason she felt so comfortable in Dupree: she had friends who liked her for who she was, not because she'd once graced a concert stage.

The pace was slower here than in the big cities, and while that sometimes frustrated her, Gillian had to admit that for the most part she enjoyed it. And though the grapevine occasionally felt intrusive, the overall friendliness of the townspeople warmed her heart more than she'd thought possible. No doubt about it, life in Dupree was good.

Taking advantage of the continuing lull, Gillian pulled out her cell phone. No missed calls or voice mail messages, but the email icon told her she had at least one note. Curious, she opened the app and was surprised to see a message from her father with the subject line “good work.”

The rush of pleasure surging through her overcame her fatigue, and she smiled. This was truly a case of better late than never. It might have taken him awhile, but Dad was finally acknowledging her work on the senior center, and that was sweet. So sweet.

Gillian opened the note, her pleasure evaporating as she read, “Saw the news. Good work, Gillian. Mike Tarkett is the kind of man you ought to marry.” Disappointment mingled with anger, and anger won, shocking her with its intensity. She hadn't
realized how much she'd wanted her father's approval of the center or how delusional she'd been trying to convince herself that his silence was nothing more than his unwillingness to express his thoughts any way but verbally. But here was the proof. What Dad approved of was Gillian's appearance on the arm of an eligible bachelor, not the effort she had put into the center.

“Do you have a copy of . . .”

Once more TJ had startled her with his almost silent approach. Gillian looked up. Just minutes earlier she'd wanted to talk to him, hoping they could renew their friendship, but right now she was not fit company for anyone.

She tried to feign a polite smile but obviously failed, for TJ's smile faded.

“What's wrong?” he asked, coming closer to the counter. “I probably shouldn't say this, but your face is almost as red as your hair.”

Gillian nodded, not surprised by his observation. Her fair skin had always betrayed her emotions, particularly anger.

“I know he loves me,” she said, hearing the resignation in her voice. “I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does.”

“Something your father did.”

Gillian shook her head. “More like what he didn't do. He didn't comment on all we accomplished with the center, but one picture of me with a man he considers appropriate son-in-law material and he sends me an email with the subject line ‘good work.' He's acting like I was on a campaign to snag a husband. I wasn't doing that, TJ. I wasn't.” Gillian hated the way her voice broke, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“I know.” To Gillian's surprise, TJ looked as if the thought of her hunting for a husband bothered him. Silently he reached for her hand and led her to one of the comfortable chairs the store offered to customers. When she was seated, he took the chair next to her. “It's only natural to want your parents' approval. I know I did.”

Though he'd dropped her hand, TJ was looking at her the way he had Friday night, as if she was more—much more—than a casual acquaintance. The thought helped quell the anger that had caused her stomach to clench and her throat to constrict.

“I wish I could take away the hurt,” TJ continued, “but I can't do that. Only you can let it go.” He leaned over and captured her hand again, cradling it between both of his. “I apologize if I sound like the RV Reverend now, but there's a verse in Galatians that talks about needing to please God, not men. There are times when we can please both, but I don't have to tell you which is more important.”

Gillian thought for a moment, reviewing the Bible verses she had memorized over the years. “Galatians 1:10. I know the verse.”

She remembered being in college and having the minister challenge each member of his congregation to answer the question of whether their chosen careers would honor God. At the time, Gillian had believed hers would, but now she wasn't certain. Perhaps she had been so caught up in pleasing her father that she had lost sight of God's will.

“I thought I was doing that. Now I don't know. It shouldn't be, but sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.”

“Of course it is.” TJ gave her a reassuring smile. “It's especially difficult where parents are concerned. We're taught to honor them, but there are times we need to step back and realize they're not perfect.”

Gillian knew that. She'd believed she'd long since accepted both her and her father's imperfections, but today she felt as if she'd been ambushed. Perhaps it was merely because she was so tired that Dad's note bothered her so much. Perhaps it was because his reaction had been so different from Cal and Stacy's. Or perhaps it was simply because the center was the first thing that had fired her imagination since the accident and she wanted
him to share her excitement. Gillian wasn't certain why it had happened, but she knew she'd overreacted.