On Lone Star Trail (31 page)

“Nice hat, Mike,” the reporter, who wore a red and white polka dot blouse with one of the shortest navy skirts Gillian had seen, said with a grin. “And who's your companion?”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “As if you didn't know, Rita. If you
didn't see all those pictures of us on the internet after the concert, you're slipping up.” The words were accompanied by a smile that confirmed Mike and Rita's friendship.

“Nice to meet you, Gillian. Are you hanging around for the basketball game?” When Mike shook his head, Rita informed Gillian that Mike had been the star of Blytheville High's basketball team. “But you probably already knew that.”

“Actually, I didn't. Mike's one of the most modest men I've met.”

“And modest men finish last.”

No matter what Rita said, Gillian didn't want to believe that. She was hardly an expert on Blytheville politics, but she knew enough about politics in general to know Mike would be a good mayor. Honor and integrity combined with modesty was what every town in America needed.

“I hope not.”

Mike slid his arm around Gillian's waist. “I hate to break up this fascinating conversation, but you're making me uncomfortable, talking about me as if I'm not here. Besides,” he said after a glance at his watch, “I promised my parents we'd be back at the ranch by four.”

A couple hours of lazy conversation alongside the pool were followed by a fried chicken supper. The Tarkett family obviously enjoyed being together, and Gillian was happy to be included.

As the sun began to set, everyone piled into their trucks, leaving Mike and Gillian to follow in his car. It was time for the fireworks, the culmination of Blytheville's Memorial Day, and the Tarketts would be there. To Gillian's surprise, when they reached town, the trucks turned left, but Mike did not.

“I thought your mother said the fireworks were at the park.”

“They are,” he agreed, “but that's not the only place to see them.” He turned right and headed up the hill to a residential area. Single family homes lined one side of the street, while a row of two-story town houses occupied the other. Mike pushed
the remote, opening the garage of one of the town houses and pulled inside.

“I thought you might like to see where I live.”

When he'd switched off the engine, Mike helped Gillian out of the car and up the steps into his home. They entered through a modest kitchen, then climbed the stairs to the second-story den, which boasted a balcony overlooking the city. To Gillian's surprise, though she knew there were neighbors on both sides and suspected they also had balconies, they were out of sight.

“One of the things I like about this complex is that the architect managed to preserve privacy without using a lot of land,” Mike said as he ushered her onto the balcony and closed the sliding glass doors behind them. “If I want open spaces, I can go to the ranch. This place is close to town and low maintenance.”

“Plus it has a fabulous view.” Gillian gasped as the first fireworks burst into the sky, huge red, white, and blue balls that hung in the air for an improbably long time before fading into darkness. They were followed by rockets, pyrotechnic waterfalls, and a not particularly successful attempt at an American flag. Gillian didn't care about the imperfection. What was important was the sentiment behind the fireworks. This was a town honoring its heroes.

For half an hour she and Mike stood next to the balcony railing, his arm around her waist, as they watched the magnificent display. When the show ended and the last shooting star disappeared, he turned to face her.

“That was wonderful,” Gillian said, still marveling at the beauty. She'd attended fireworks displays before, but always as part of a crowd. Being here with Mike had made tonight extra special.

“Not as wonderful as you.” Mike swallowed deeply, then cupped her cheek, his fingers moving slowly toward her chin. “There's a reason I brought you here away from everyone else. I love my family, but at times they can be overwhelming. I wanted tonight to be just the two of us.”

Mike's hand touched her lips before dropping to his side. “When Mom insisted I go to Rainbow's End, I never expected this. I figured I was in for a week of boredom. Instead, these past two months have been the best of my life, and it's all because of you. I love you, Gillian. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how deep that love is.”

Mike reached into his pocket and withdrew a square box that could hold only one thing. “Will you marry me?”

Gillian's heart began to pound. Was this the plan God had for her, the answer to her prayers for a family of her own? Stacy and Cal treated her like one of their children. That was what Gillian had always wanted, a family that loved her for who she was. It could be hers forever, if she said yes.

She looked at the man standing next to her, love shining from his eyes. There were so many reasons to say yes. She cared deeply for Mike. He would be a good husband. If she married him, she'd have both a mother and a father. She would even make her own father happy. Gillian felt as if she was ticking off the advantages on her fingers. Everything urged her to say yes, and yet . . .

“I don't know what to say.”

Mike swallowed, and Gillian knew she'd disappointed him. “Say yes,” he urged her.

“Marriage is a big step.” In the second when she'd been ready to say yes, she'd felt as if she were on the edge of a precipice. A single step would take her into the unknown, and though she believed Mike would catch her, something held her back. Perhaps it was simply too soon. Perhaps it was the fear that she was like Brianna, in love with the idea of what a man could provide rather than the man himself. Perhaps it was the feelings for TJ that she couldn't dismiss, no matter how hard she tried. Gillian wasn't certain. All she knew was that she couldn't give Mike the answer he wanted.

“I guess I'm just not ready.”

Mike was silent for a moment as he slipped the ring back into his pocket, his eyes troubled. “I'm sure you know that's not the answer I was hoping for. My family claims I'm a patient man, but they're wrong. I don't like waiting. But you, Gillian, are worth waiting for. I'll try to be patient until you're ready.”

He managed a small smile. “I'm giving you fair warning, though. I'm persistent. I'm going to do everything I can to convince you. I'm also going to ask you the same question every two weeks until you say yes.” Mike turned to face the house. “Now, let's get you back to Rainbow's End. It's been a long day.”

T
J was not a happy man. He raced his bike up Ranger Hill, trying not to think about Gillian missing breakfast. Although no one was assigned a specific time, they'd resumed their habit of eating together. That was a fine way to start the day. At least TJ thought so. Why was today different?

Gillian's car had been in its normal spot, although that didn't prove much, since she didn't usually go into town for another hour. Perhaps she had overslept. There was no reason to imagine a sinister reason for her absence. It wasn't as if she and Mike Tarkett had eloped to Vegas after the fireworks display last night.

TJ's frown deepened. Why did that thought have to pop into his head? Why did he have to picture an Elvis impersonator performing the ceremony? Surely Gillian hadn't agreed to that. He was close—so close—to having one half of his future planned. Surely he wouldn't be too late for the second.

Trying to get his mind focused on teaching, he parked his bike in its usual spot and headed for the back entrance. As TJ entered the school, Jake Thomas emerged from his office.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” the principal announced,
clapping TJ on the shoulder. “Will you stop in during your free period? There's something I want to talk to you about.”

The day had just gotten worse. TJ had heard several of the teachers grousing about the upcoming end-of-school party. If Jake wanted him to chaperone the event, he'd be disappointed. That was one thing TJ had no intention of doing, but he nodded and muttered, “Sure.” He had no choice other than to listen to whatever Jake had to say.

Two and a half hours later, TJ entered the principal's office and took the seat Jake indicated, prepared to offer a list of reasons he should not be a chaperone.

The principal leaned forward slightly, placing his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. “All the classes I've attended tell me to start with pleasantries,” Jake said. “I never saw much point in that, so I'm going to cut to the chase. I've been impressed with what you've done here. I don't want to give you a swelled head, but I've heard nothing but good things from the students, their parents, and the other teachers.”

TJ blinked at the unexpected praise, wondering where this was leading. This sounded like more was at stake than the party.

The principal nodded, then picked up a folder from the middle of his desk. “The bottom line is, I'd like to offer you a full-time position for next year. I've got the contract here.”

TJ stared in amazement. “I'm honored, sir.” Flabbergasted was more like it. The ever-active grapevine had told him Jake had been reviewing résumés and was leaning toward a woman who'd left a few years earlier to raise a family.

Jake frowned. “What's this ‘sir' business? I thought we were on a first-name basis.”

“You're right, Jake. I guess I'm more surprised than I realized.” This could be the opportunity he needed, a chance to save the money for seminary, a chance to be certain that was what God intended for him. Though the call to ordination was strong, it had not been accompanied by a sense of urgency. Instead, TJ
felt as if he were being cautioned to move slowly. Perhaps this was the reason why. Perhaps he still had more to do in Dupree.

“I hope the surprise was a pleasant one.”

“It was. It is. I just need to think it over a bit. I want to pray about it.” A month ago, TJ would not have said that, much less been comfortable mentioning his prayer life with the principal, but that was a month ago. TJ was no longer the same man.

Jake nodded. “I understand. Take your time, TJ. I want you to be certain this is the right decision for you.” He paused and glanced at the calendar posted on the side wall. “Do you think you'll have your decision by the time school ends?”

Though it was less than two weeks, TJ had no difficulty nodding. “That'll be fine.” That would give him time to think, to pray, and to talk to Gillian.

Though the last need nagged at him, TJ couldn't simply leave the school in the middle of the day. Instead, he found himself watching the clock, counting the minutes as eagerly as any of his students did. When the final bell rang, he practically sprinted to the parking lot. Three minutes later he arrived at Hill Country Pages. Though Gillian had normally left by this time, there was always the possibility she was working late. He didn't want to ride out to Rainbow's End only to discover she was still in town.

“I'm sorry, sir,” the woman who was manning the cash register told him. “Gillian left on time today. I imagine she's back at Rainbow's End.”

But she wasn't. Her car was missing, and when TJ knocked on the door to her cabin, there was no answer. He headed for the office, hoping whoever was on duty would know where Gillian had gone. There he found Brandi, one of the teenagers who served meals as well as worked the front desk, laughing as she read a newspaper.

“Want to share the joke?”

She looked up, her face flushing. “I'm not sure you'll find it funny.” Reluctantly, she showed him a picture of Gillian and
Mike. Mike had his arm wrapped around her waist, and she was looking up at him as if he were the most wonderful man in the universe. “They sure look like lovebirds, don't they?” Brandi asked.

“Yeah.” Unfortunately, they did.

If there were ever a time when retail therapy was needed, it was now. An afternoon of shopping might not bring about world peace, but it just might prevent an elopement.

“I hate her! She doesn't understand me!” Brianna clenched her fists and pounded the armrest, seemingly oblivious to the beautiful countryside outside the window.

Gillian bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to remain silent. There was no point in arguing when she knew Brianna would not listen. She considered it nothing less than a small miracle that she'd returned to Rainbow's End at the exact moment Brianna had stormed out of Firefly Valley, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face contorted in rage. The girl was almost incoherent, but between the screams and the obscenities, Gillian had pieced together the picture of a fight between Brianna and her mother culminating in Brianna's threat to run away with Pete.

“He's the only one who understands me,” Brianna had declared. “He's the only one who sees I'm a woman. Mom thinks I'm still a little girl. Well, I'm not!”

Though Brianna's behavior more closely resembled that of a child in the midst of a tantrum than the grown woman she claimed to be, Gillian refused to become involved in the argument.

“I need some new clothes,” she told Brianna. “Want to help me pick them out?” When the teen hesitated, she increased the stakes. “Who knows? You might find the right dress for the end-of-school party. If you do, I'll buy it for you.”

As Gillian had hoped, Brianna's eyes had brightened, and she'd climbed into the car. Though Brianna had refused to speak to her mother, as soon as they were once again in cell range, Gillian had coaxed the number from her and had called Natalie, telling her her daughter was with her and would probably spend the night with her.

“Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” Natalie had said just before she hung up. Though Gillian doubted that was possible, she could keep mother and daughter apart and ensure Brianna spent no time with Pete today.

As Brianna continued her diatribe, listing her mother's many flaws and Pete's many assets, Gillian said nothing. There were times when the best thing to do was let someone vent, and this was one of them. When Brianna paused to take a breath, Gillian said, “The decision's yours. There's a dress shop in Blytheville I've been wanting to visit, but I thought we'd go to the Angora farm first. Is that okay?” Stacy had told her that although it did not bear the Tarkett name, the farm and the shop Marisa had raved about were among the family's holdings.

Brianna relaxed her fists as she turned toward Gillian. “I heard they have cool clothes there.” With the volatility so common to teens, all signs of Brianna's anger had disappeared, replaced by the anticipation of shopping.

Gillian tried not to smile at the abrupt change of mood. “Marisa said they carry mostly sweaters and scarves. I thought those were supposed to be warm, not cool.”

Twisting her mouth into an expression that could have served as a Halloween ghoul's mask, Brianna said, “Yeah, right.” She was silent for a second, then wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you were trying to be funny, weren't you? I hate to break this to you, but you'll never be invited to
Saturday Night Live
.”

“And here I thought I had a career as a comedian.” Gillian rejoiced in Brianna's grin and the visible relaxing of her shoulders. It seemed as if she'd put her anger behind her, at least temporarily.

“No chance.” Brianna twisted in the seat so she faced Gillian. “What was it like being a famous pianist? It sounds so glamorous—all that travel, all those beautiful clothes.”

Gillian had thought so once. “Believe it or not, it's a job, and like any job, it has its good and its bad. The hours of practice are exhausting, and after a while, all the hotels, restaurants, and airports start to look alike.”

“But you kept doing it. Why?”

Gillian smiled, remembering. “The applause made it all worthwhile.”

“That must have been cool, all those people standing up and clapping for you.”

“I didn't get a standing ovation every time, but you're right; it was cool.” Each time it had happened, Gillian's heart had pounded with the realization that the audience cared enough to give her more than polite applause. She'd quickly learned to distinguish between perfunctory clapping and genuine enthusiasm, and the real thing had made her rejoice.

“I wish someone would clap for me. All my mom does is criticize me. I can't do anything to make her happy.” Brianna's voice held wistful longing, a far cry from the anger that had colored it only minutes earlier, leaving Gillian wishing there were something she could do or say to comfort her. TJ would have known what to say, but TJ wasn't here. Gillian was on her own.

“You probably don't believe it, but I envy you,” she told the teen. “You have something I always wanted—a mother.”

Brianna's face registered disbelief. “What happened to yours?”

“She died when I was born, and my dad never remarried.”

Brianna's expression had changed, and for a second Gillian thought she saw pity in her brown eyes. “So what did he do?”

“He hired a nanny. A lot of them. They never seemed to last more than six months.”

“But at least they were nice.”

“If you say so.” To be fair, the nannies had been kind, but
kindness wasn't what Gillian had sought. Love was. “The best thing that happened to me was when Kate moved in with her grandparents down the street. They became my second family.”

“That's sad.” Brianna's expression underwent another of the mercurial changes that seemed to be the order of the day, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “I've got an offer you can't refuse. I'll give you my mom if you let me move into your cabin.”

“Let's see how you like the sleepover tonight. You might discover I'm an old fuddy-duddy who snores so loudly you can't sleep.”

As Gillian had hoped, Brianna giggled. “Just tell me you've got good food in your fridge.”

Gillian shook her head. “Juice and milk's the limit, but I have a secret weapon: Carmen. We can raid her refrigerator if we're hungry.”

“Good deal.”

A few minutes later, they pulled into the driveway leading to the Angora goat farm. If the sign was any indication, the products would be unique, for the goats certainly were. They had the usual muzzle, beard, and floppy ears, but their fleece was long and curly. “Let's see if we can find something for Sally here.”

Gillian parked in the lot, pausing while Brianna admired the dozen or so goats grazing in the pasture, clearly unaffected by the presence of customers.