On Lone Star Trail (8 page)

Y
ou don't have to worry.” Gillian smiled at Kate as she accepted a cup of coffee and settled onto the comfortable couch in Kate and Greg's apartment. Though it had been the better part of a day since Mike had arrived, this was the first opportunity Gillian had had to talk privately with Kate, and she wanted to relay the good news. There'd been no time after supper, and when Gillian returned from Firefly Valley, she'd seen no lights in the apartment. Recalling Kate's saying that she was trying to schedule a date night with Greg, Gillian guessed they'd found a movie they both wanted to see.

Kate returned Gillian's smile. “That's what the doctor said. I wasn't worried, but she was a little concerned about my weight gain. She thought it might be the first sign of preeclampsia until I told her about Carmen's cooking.” Kate gestured toward the plate of fruit in front of her and the tray of Danish pastries she'd pushed to the far side of the coffee table. “We both agreed I need to be more careful. Fruit instead of pastries and clear soup instead of tamales.”

Though tamales had not been a big part of Kate's diet until she came to Rainbow's End, she'd soon developed a craving for
them and had even served them at her wedding reception. “I'll bet you'd be allowed one.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate reached for a piece of pineapple. “Come on, Gillian. You've tasted Carmen's tamales. You know they're like potato chips. Eating one is impossible. I don't have the heart to tell Carmen they're on my do-not-eat list. Fortunately, Marisa and Blake are due back from their honeymoon tomorrow, so Carmen will have something to think about besides what I am—or am not—eating. She'll be watching Marisa like a hawk, trying to figure out whether she's pregnant.” Kate speared a strawberry and added it to her plate. “Carmen can't wait to be a grandparent.”

“Like my father.” Gillian sighed, remembering the last discussion she'd had with Dad. When Gillian had pointed out that George had already produced the Hodge heir, he simply pursed his lips and said, “What else are you going to do now that your career is over? It's time for you to be married and start raising a family.”

Gillian had gritted her teeth and remained silent, though she'd been tempted to mention that at twenty-nine she was hardly over the hill and that while her father's generation may have thought women should marry as soon as they graduated, hers did not.

She'd been surprised when Dad had added, “I worry about you, Gillian. Who'll look after you when I'm gone?” Though he'd been quick to assure her that the doctor had pronounced him in excellent health, he'd given her a little hug as he'd said, “There's no ignoring the fact that I'm old enough to be your grandfather. Your mother and I were thrilled when we learned she was pregnant again, even though we knew it wouldn't be easy having a second child when we were that age. We never even considered that one of us would be doing the parenting alone.”

He'd done his best—Gillian knew that—but there were times when she'd wished for a younger dad and more times than she
could count that she'd longed for a mother rather than a succession of nannies.

“Marisa's lucky if her parents don't pressure her,” Gillian told Kate. “You know my dad isn't exactly reticent where the subject of marriage and grandchildren is concerned.”

“He just wants you to be happy.”

That was Kate, the peacemaker. When they'd been growing up, Kate had tried to put a positive spin on everything. The day Gillian had been sobbing her eyes out because her father was heading for Australia, claiming Gillian was having her own vacation because she would be staying with Kate and her grandparents instead of at home with the nanny, Kate had pointed out that this would give Gillian the chance to try ice-skating.

Every time Gillian had asked for permission to join her classmates at the local rink, Dad had refused, claiming Gillian might fall and injure her hands. But he had never told Sally that Gillian wasn't supposed to skate.

“We'll have so much fun,” Kate had declared.

And they did. Though Gillian had fallen countless times, she'd suffered nothing more than a few bruises as she learned to navigate the ice. For two glorious weeks, she'd felt like a normal kid, not Gillian Hodge, child prodigy.

“No matter what Dad says, I'm not going to marry the first man who asks me to run off to Vegas to be married by an Elvis impersonator.”

As Gillian had expected, though she had no idea that Gillian had received a joking proposal to do exactly that, Kate laughed. “Think about your wedding album. Wouldn't that give him bragging rights?”

“Because Elvis would outshine the bride? No thanks. I'd rather have a small church wedding with the man of my dreams. If I ever find him, that is.” Despite her father's claims, Gillian was certain there was another alternative for her besides marriage . . . if only she could figure out what it was.

Kate took a sip of her herbal tea before she said, “It might be just my imagination, but it certainly seemed as if Mike Tarkett couldn't keep his eyes off you last night.”

“There are logical explanations,” Gillian replied, glad that she'd managed to subdue her blush. Kate was her dearest friend, but that didn't mean she wanted her to know how much Mike's apparent attraction had affected her. She'd felt relaxed with him, and that had made the afternoon special. When she was with TJ, Gillian's senses were on high alert, but there was none of that hyperawareness with Mike. Instead, she felt comfortable. It might not be the “Some Enchanted Evening” moment Sally touted, but Gillian had found the afternoon unexpectedly enjoyable.

“So, just what are those logical explanations?” Kate made air quotes around the words. “The way I see it, a very eligible man finds you attractive.”

Placing her now empty coffee cup on the table, Gillian said, “Number one: there were no other single women at the table. And number two: we spent the afternoon together. I gave him the grand tour of Rainbow's End.”

When Kate raised an eyebrow as if to signal her skepticism, Gillian decided it was time to change the subject. “Remember how I said you didn't have to worry? I was talking about Mike. His family isn't planning to compete with you. He said they have no interest in hotels.”

“And you believe him?”

“I do. I suppose I could be wrong, but Mike strikes me as an honest man. The reason he's here is that he's been working extra long hours since the beginning of the year. Apparently his mother decided he needed a vacation and practically forced him to come.”

The way Kate smiled told Gillian she was both pleased and relieved. “That's good news,” she said, “but I still think Mike views you as more than a convenient companion or a tour guide. The man looked positively smitten.”

That guy looked at her the way someone who'd been stranded in the desert for a week would look at a cool glass of water. TJ gripped the oars and pulled for all he was worth. Maybe a good workout would help put the image out of his mind. Something had to. But as the oars plied the water, propelling him toward the small island on the other side of Bluebonnet Lake, the memories continued to roll.

Gillian had laughed at anything Mike Tarkett said, giving him those smiles that threatened to outshine the sun, while Mike had seemed as besotted as a teenager with his first love. It had all combined to make last night's supper feel endless. Oh, the food had been as delicious as ever, but TJ hadn't enjoyed it. How could he, when Gillian hardly spoke to him? Instead, she'd seemed as infatuated with Mike Tarkett as the business tycoon was with her.

TJ paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Why should he care? It wasn't as if he had any romantic interest in Gillian. He'd loved Deb. He still loved her, and he always would. And because he did, there was no room for another woman in his life or his heart.

TJ knew that. That was why he'd been surprised by how painful it had been to see Gillian and Mike together. He didn't understand it. He'd seen couples in love since Deb's death, and it had never bothered him, but for some reason, this was different.

If only his bike were fixed and he could leave! But Eric had delivered the bad news this morning. It would be another week before the parts arrived. That meant TJ had at least six more days with nothing to do other than watch Gillian and Mike Tarkett. The teenagers provided a welcome break in the evenings, but he needed something to do during the days.

He resumed the rhythmic rowing, focusing on the sound of the oars sliding through the water. When he'd first heard that
the island was called Paintbrush, he'd pictured an artist with a palette and brush, but he now realized that the name came from the Indian paintbrush flowers that carpeted one side of the island. The island was beautiful and peaceful. His thoughts were not.

In the past TJ would have prayed for guidance, but he knew there was no point in doing that now. The only thing he could do was rely on himself and hope that all this rowing would leave him so tired and sore that he wouldn't notice the pain in his heart.

An hour later TJ returned to the dock, his shoulders and arms aching more than he'd thought possible but his head clearer than it had been in weeks. As he'd circled the small island and admired its beauty, he'd felt an unexpected peace settle over him.

He couldn't explain it any more than he could explain why the sight of Gillian and Mike together bothered him, but he wasn't arguing with the result. The turmoil deep inside him had subsided, and by the time he approached the dock, TJ had realized there were worse things than being stuck at Rainbow's End.

He didn't need Gillian's company to make the days enjoyable. He could do what Greg had advised: row a bit, run a bit, relax a bit. And in the evenings, he'd have the teenagers with their unbridled curiosity and raucous laughter to keep him company.

He was tying the boat to the dock when he heard footsteps.

“TJ, you're just the man I wanted to see,” Greg announced as he stepped onto the dock. Dressed in the Rainbow's End uniform of khaki pants and a navy polo with the resort's logo, Greg was the epitome of casual living, though his expression was anything but casual. “An opportunity came up today.” He settled onto one of the benches that lined the edge of the dock and nodded to the spot beside him, waiting until TJ was seated before he continued. “I'm not sure you'll be interested, but I told Jake Thomas I'd ask.”

Though Greg kept his voice even, the glint in his eyes told TJ he was hoping TJ would avail himself of the opportunity,
whatever it was. If TJ were lucky, this mysterious opportunity would provide a way for him to pass the time until his bike was repaired. There was only one way to know.

“Who's Jake Thomas, and what's the opportunity?”

Leaning back on his arms and feigning a nonchalant posture, Greg stared into the distance. “He's the school principal. The opportunity is to teach history for the rest of the school year.” His posture might be relaxed, but Greg's speech was not. He spoke quickly, giving TJ no chance to interrupt. “The current history teacher, Mrs. Loring, had a massive stroke yesterday. She's still alive, but the doctor says she'll never teach again.”

When TJ murmured his sympathy, Greg nodded. “Even though she was close to retirement, it's still a blow to everyone. Jake filled in today, but he can't keep doing that, and none of his regular subs want a full-time assignment.” Greg turned, fixing his gaze on TJ. “Jake needs a permanent substitute for the rest of the term. When he remembered my saying that you used to teach history, he phoned to see if you'd be interested.”

Was he interested? It had been less than two hours since TJ had wondered what he could do to keep painful thoughts at bay and how he would fill the days until his bike was repaired. Now this opportunity presented itself. A couple years ago, TJ might have called this the answer to prayer. Now he called it a coincidence.