On Lone Star Trail (16 page)

G
illian did not feel pampered the next afternoon. Far from it. She was grimy and disheveled with sore muscles and aching tendons, and yet she had a sense of satisfaction every bit as great as the night she'd won the Brooks Competition. That night she'd been awarded a cash prize, a management contract, two years of guaranteed concert bookings, even a new wardrobe for performances. Today she had a building that was slowly being transformed. While her father might not have considered that a significant accomplishment, Gillian couldn't help grinning every time she looked at the progress.

She flexed her fingers, getting the kinks out of them. Though the teens were doing all the work in the main room, she and TJ had arrived early and spent two hours making the kitchen clean enough for them to serve food there. That alone had been a bigger job than she'd anticipated, underscoring TJ's wisdom in enlisting help. If Gillian had had to do all the work alone, it would have taken weeks, not a single day, to get the center ready for paint.

As it was, thanks to TJ and peer pressure, they'd made amazing progress. To Gillian's amusement, when the teens had dis
covered that TJ had gotten two sets of T-shirts—one lime green, the other purple—and issued them to the team members so there was no question who was on which team, there'd been a major debate over which was the better color.

Gillian had been even more amused when TJ had presented her with a green and purple striped shirt that matched his, a clear statement of impartiality. The colors weren't ones she would have chosen, particularly with her hair, but she'd gamely slipped the shirt over her head. Today was all about the teens and teamwork.

“Watch that ladder!” TJ's voice filled the room, quieting the chattering teenagers and attracting the attention of the boy who was ignoring the “do not stand above this level” warning and was about to climb on top of the ladder. “Remember the rules. Any injury, even a minor cut, counts against your team.”

The sheep-faced teen returned to the second step from the top, stretching to reach the ceiling.

“What a clever way to keep them thinking about safety,” Gillian said, referring to TJ's inclusion of demerits for accidents and injuries on the score cards. As they'd both expected, the teens had been enthusiastic about having a competition, and while some of them groaned when they heard the rules, the majority had abided by them, not wanting to lower their chances of winning.

“You can thank my father for the safety messages,” TJ said, leaning against the door frame. “Before he and Mom quit their jobs to become part of our church's missionary team, Dad worked in a plant that put safety first.” TJ continued his explanation. “He said you couldn't go anywhere without seeing some reminder of safe procedures. That carried over to home.”

There had been a single safety message in the Hodge household: protect Gillian's hands.

“Does that mean you never jumped off a shed roof or climbed onto the wrong tree limb?” she asked, remembering some of her friends' antics.

“I didn't say that. I got into all the normal scrapes,” TJ admitted. “The difference was, I knew I was taking a chance. When I climbed the tree, I knew to stop before I was so high that a fall would mean broken bones.” He gave her a wry smile. “Bruises were okay. They were badges of honor.”

“You had all that safety training and yet you ride a motorcycle.” The mere thought made Gillian shudder. Though the counselors had assured her that her fears would fade, that had yet to happen.

“I ride safely, and I have the best helmet money can buy.” TJ paused to inspect the wall Shane's team had finished washing. When he'd nodded his approval and checked it off the list, he returned to his post next to Gillian. “The helmet I bought for you is just as good as mine,” he said, acting as if there'd been no interruption.

Gillian hated the idea of his wasting money. “If you really bought it only for me, I hope you can return it. I wasn't kidding when I said I would never ride.”

“A man can still hope.”

TJ's bittersweet expression made her think he was remembering his wife. No wonder he had been wandering around the country. Fortunately for Gillian, he had found his way to Dupree and was here, for at least two more months, helping her turn her new dream into reality.

He glanced at his watch. “Break time,” he called out. “This one means food.” When she'd scheduled the day, Gillian had included ten-minute breaks every hour, figuring that the teens would need them if only as a change of pace from the unaccustomed physical labor. Scrubbing walls and ceilings was different from shooting a basketball or jogging up Ranger Hill. And, knowing how many calories work consumed, she had planned snack breaks in the middle of the morning and afternoon in addition to a substantial lunch. As she had expected, a round of cheers greeted TJ's announcement. Gillian was tempted to
join them in their cheers. The food was nothing like the gourmet fare she'd had at Strawberry Chantilly, and the company was certainly very different, but she wouldn't have traded this day for anything.

“What's on the menu this time?” Brianna asked as she and Todd got into line. As had happened during each of the breaks, they were holding hands and looking as if they couldn't wait to be alone together.

Gillian tried not to sigh. Though there were other couples, Brianna and Todd seemed more infatuated than the others. It was no wonder Natalie Carter worried about her daughter.

“Fruit and veggies.” The morning break had included doughnuts, muffins, and—for the more health-conscious—granola bars.

Brianna's expression left no doubt that she was less than thrilled. “Nothing but healthy food,” she scoffed.

Since it wasn't like Brianna to be peevish, Gillian suspected something other than food was responsible. This was neither the time nor the place to deal with teenage insecurities, and so she said only, “The fruit and veggies may be healthy, but the dips aren't. We have chocolate and caramel for the fruit. The vegetables get guacamole and something that appears to have a couple pounds of bacon in it.”

Grinning, Todd stared at the food. “So, what's everyone else going to eat? That bowl of chocolate looks like a single serving to me.”

Her good mood restored in one of those rapid changes so common among kids her age, Brianna gave Todd's arm a playful punch. “Be careful. Gillian might cut you off from everything if she thinks you're serious.”

As they went through the line, piling food on their plates, one of the other boys tapped Todd on the shoulder, his body language saying he wanted to talk to him, and so once they reached the end of the line, Brianna and Todd separated.

To Gillian's surprise, Brianna approached her. “Thanks for talking to my mom,” she said softly. “She worries too much.”

Gillian smiled, as much at the assortment of previously disdained fruits and vegetables on Brianna's plate as at her comment. “I think that's part of the job description. Mothers worry.” Or so she'd heard. “Your mom loves you.”

Brianna nodded. “I know that. I just wish she understood how much I want to get married.”

“She does.” That was the problem.

“It looked like you were doing some counseling on the side,” TJ said a few minutes later when the break ended and the teens resumed work.

“You mean Brianna?” When he nodded, Gillian shrugged her shoulders. “I'm hardly one to give her advice about mother-daughter relationships.”

“Maybe that makes you exactly the right person to help Brianna. If your life had been perfect, you wouldn't understand her angst. Your situations are different, but pain is pain.”

“I hadn't considered that.”

Gillian touched TJ's arm, grateful for his opinion. While it didn't change the past, it made her regard it in a different light. Maybe Sally had been right when she'd told Gillian that scar tissue was strong and that the scars themselves—both visible and invisible—were reminders of battles fought and survived.

Gillian smiled at the man who'd opened her eyes. “Thanks, TJ. You're the best.”

He wasn't, of course, TJ told himself four hours later when he returned to his cabin. He wasn't the best at anything, and yet he couldn't help being pleased that the furrows between Gillian's eyes had disappeared and that her smile had returned.

There'd been a lot of smiling today. Even when the kids had
grumbled, it had been a good-natured grumbling accompanied by a smile. And by the end of the day, Gillian's smile had been radiant, for the formerly grimy room was now ready for its first coat of paint.

TJ pulled off his boots, smiling as he set them on the closet floor. Gillian might claim she was going to do all the painting herself, but he had every intention of helping her. While he didn't doubt she could paint the room alone, there was no reason she had to.

As he settled into one of the comfortable chairs, he picked up his camera and started looking through the pictures he'd taken. TJ smiled again. Gillian was a fascinating woman—warm and caring despite a less than perfect childhood.

Though he'd wanted to hug her and tell her just how amazing she was, a room filled with teens was hardly the place for even a casual hug, and so TJ had done nothing more than utter a few words. He hadn't expected those words to resonate with Gillian the way they obviously had.
The best
, she'd said. Far from it, and yet somehow he'd been able to touch her heart. That was almost as amazing as Gillian herself.

TJ had the impression that although she had never had financial worries, Gillian had worked hard for everything she'd achieved. He'd Googled her and discovered she'd had very stiff competition for the Brooks Award. The articles claimed that year's contestants displayed more talent than any of the previous years, yet she'd won and handily, if the scores were to be believed.

And now, while she could be lying on a beach somewhere, doing nothing, she was helping both the teens and the seniors in a small Texas town. Not many women with her background and resources would do that, but Gillian was different.

TJ scrolled through the pix, deleting a few with cutoff heads and unpleasant expressions, marking the ones he liked the best. Though he hadn't had a plan in mind when he'd started taking them, as the day had progressed, he'd decided to have a few shots
printed and framed to hang on the center's walls. The seniors would enjoy seeing how their center had taken shape, and the kids would get some recognition for the hard work they'd done.

TJ laughed as he saw one of the last shots he'd taken of Gillian. Though it captured the happiness in her eyes and the pride in what the group had accomplished, TJ doubted she would be happy to have it put on display. Dirt smudged one cheek, her lipstick had worn off, and the striped shirt clashed with that glorious red hair. This was a far cry from the glamour shots he'd seen online, and yet this was Gillian too. Perhaps it was even the real Gillian.

Later that night as he was setting the alarm, TJ sank onto the bed. Was it possible? He stared at the clock, shocked by what had—or more precisely, what hadn't—happened. It had been a full day, and he hadn't thought of Deb once. Not once.

Guilt swept through him, but to his surprise, it was followed by a glimmer of relief. He couldn't explain why it had happened; he wouldn't even try. All he knew was that today had been the best day since Deb had died.

T
here was no logical reason to be here. TJ frowned as he saw where his footsteps had taken him. While it was true that he wanted to invite Gillian to spend the afternoon with him, there was no reason to have come here. He would have asked her at breakfast, but he'd gotten so caught up in telling Greg about the work party that he'd been late again and had missed her.

That was hardly his last chance. He would see her at noon for Rainbow's End's special Sunday meal. He could casually ask whether she had plans for the afternoon and, if she did not, tell her what he had in mind. There was no reason, no reason at all, to be walking by the church and even less reason to be standing so close to the open window that he could hear the minister begin his sermon.

“Today I want us to ponder the words of Joshua 1:5,” Pastor Bill said in a voice that carried without amplification. “And today instead of a modern translation, I want us to hear this message in the formal words of the King James Version. ‘There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.'”

The minister paused for a moment, letting the congregation absorb the verse. TJ couldn't count the times he'd used deliberate pauses like that. They were one of the most effective tools a minister had at his disposal.

“The message seems simple,” Pastor Bill continued, “and yet I wonder how often we heed it. Do we really accept that no one person can lead us or be with us for our entire life? Our parents filled that role when we were young. Later we might look to siblings, friends, mentors, or spouses, but none of them will walk the whole path with us. Only one will, and that's God.”

The pause was shorter this time. “Not only will he be with us, but he gives us a wonderful promise: he will not fail or forsake us. Others can promise that, but inevitably they will fail, simply because they're human. Only God can and will deliver on his promise 100 percent of the time.” When Pastor Bill resumed, his voice had the deeper resonance of a closing statement. “If that's not worthy of praise, I don't know what is.”

TJ turned away, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to slow his heartbeat. The late April morning was beautiful, as filled with promise as the minister's sermon, yet neither assuaged the pain deep inside. The emptiness, the horrible hollow feeling, had returned this morning, reminding him of all he'd lost: his parents, Deb, the assurance that he was doing what God had planned for him.

The promise God had given Joshua was wonderful, but Joshua had deserved it. TJ did not.

Realizing he was in no mood to talk to anyone, TJ strode away from the church. When he reached his motorcycle, he shoved the helmet onto his head, then climbed onto the bike. He wouldn't think about the sermon and shattered dreams. Instead, he'd take a ride to clear his head and make himself fit for human company. Only then would he issue his invitation.

Gillian might laugh. She might refuse. After all, what he was
going to propose could hardly compare to dinner at a fancy restaurant. But then again, she might accept. There was only one way to find out which answer she would give him.

It must be her imagination that TJ seemed a bit nervous. He hadn't acted like this yesterday at the senior center or when they'd met for supper after the work party. But now as he pushed the last bite of cherry pie onto his fork, he seemed distinctly ill at ease.

Gillian waited until they'd left the dining room before she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Her question seemed to startle him. “No,” he said so quickly that she knew her assumption had been correct. TJ might deny it, but she'd touched a sensitive chord. “Why did you ask?”

“You seemed quiet at dinner.”

He shrugged, but the gesture seemed forced, once again telling Gillian there was more than he wanted to admit. “Who could get in a word with the Palmer sisters at our table?”

Perhaps she had been mistaken. The three middle-aged women had dominated the conversation. “You've got a point there.” Gillian feigned a look of chagrin. “It's bad of me, but I kept thinking of them as the Magpie Sisters, always chattering.”

Something about her response pleased TJ, because she saw his shoulders begin to relax. “Do you like birds?” he asked.

The question seemed to come from out of the blue. “I suppose so,” she said. “No one's ever asked me that before. Does it matter?”

He nodded. “It might. I wondered if you'd like to go bird-watching with me this afternoon. Greg told me April is a great time to see some rare species including golden-cheeked warblers and black-capped vireos.”

If TJ had expected her to recognize those species, he was
mistaken. Gillian could identify common birds like robins, cardinals, and bluebirds, but she'd never even heard of the two he'd mentioned.

“I don't want to disappoint you, but I wouldn't know either of those birds unless they landed on my arm and announced their names.”

Holding out his arm as if he expected a bird to perch on it, TJ chuckled. “The truth is, I wouldn't either, but Greg lent me a field guide. My plan was to snap pictures of every bird I saw and sort them out later.”

Though Gillian suspected true birders would be horrified by that approach, she thought it had a lot of merit. “That sounds like my idea of bird-watching.”

“So you'll go?” The surprise in TJ's voice made Gillian wonder if this was the reason he'd seemed ill at ease before. It seemed he'd been unsure of her response, and yet she couldn't imagine why. They'd spent so much time together that he surely must know she enjoyed his company. Perhaps it was because this would be the first time they'd done something on their own, something that might be construed as a date.

As a flush stole its way to her cheeks, Gillian hoped TJ would not notice. She was acting like a schoolgirl, blushing at the thought of a date with a handsome man. This wasn't a date, she told herself firmly. It was two friends spending time together. Nothing more.

She gave TJ a bright smile. “I'd love to go, as long as I can drive. You know how I feel about your bike.” It hadn't been her imagination. Her acceptance made him relax.

“Fair enough. How soon can you be ready?”

“Give me ten minutes to change clothes.” High heels and a skirt were standard church garb, but they were definitely not what she wanted to wear to look for whatever those birds were called.

Nine and a half minutes later she approached her car, dressed
in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a broad-brimmed hat, and boots, carrying a cooler in her left hand.

“What's in that?” TJ asked with a look at the cooler. Like Gillian, he'd changed into casual clothes and a Stetson.

“Sustenance. When Carmen heard what we were doing, she insisted on packing us a snack.”

Gillian wouldn't admit that she'd called Carmen to see if she had anything they could take with them. Unsure of both how long they'd be gone and the state of TJ's finances, Gillian didn't want him to feel obligated to buy a meal. The T-shirts he'd bought for the work party had not been cheap, but when she'd offered to share the cost, TJ had refused, saying he wasn't on poverty row yet.

He hefted the cooler and grinned at the weight. “Knowing Carmen, there's enough in here for four.”

“At least.” With the cooler in the trunk and TJ's camera equipment on the backseat, Gillian settled behind the steering wheel. “Which way are we headed?” she asked as she backed out of the parking area.

“North and then west. I read that Lost Maples is one of the best places to see golden-cheeked warblers, but Greg said it's liable to be crowded on a weekend. That's why he told me about a rancher who lets a few birders onto his property. Apparently the rancher and his wife even have a bird feeder that's supposed to attract its share of the rarer species.”

“Once again, that sounds like my kind of bird-watching.” Gillian had heard birders spent a lot of time in insect-laden swampy areas, standing motionless to avoid disturbing the birds. Sitting by a feeder would be much easier, especially for a confirmed city dweller like Gillian.

Less than half an hour later, she pulled into the drive that led to James and Andrea Kulak's ranch and found the middle-aged couple waiting on their front porch. Both were dressed in jeans, Western shirts, wide-brimmed hats, and hand-tooled boots. Wide smiles completed their outfits.

“Welcome!” Andrea called as Gillian and TJ climbed out of the car. “Greg said you're novices, so if there's anything you want to know, just ask.” She nodded with approval when she saw TJ's field guide and the water bottles Gillian attached to her fanny pack. “Looks like you're well prepared.”

James led the way to the back of the ranch house and pointed toward what appeared to be a three-sided shed behind the bird feeder. “We built the blind so the birds would be less likely to be spooked by visitors. They're used to us, but you never know about strangers.”

He showed them the built-in benches inside the small structure and the viewing holes cut at different heights to accommodate both children and adults. “Sometimes the kids get so excited that they scare the birds away, but most of them come back.”

While James was talking, TJ's camera was clicking as he took a few pictures of both the blind and the Kulaks.

“If you want to be more adventuresome,” Andrea said as they walked back outside, “that path leads to a thicket where we've had good luck. James put a bench in the best spot.”

Gillian was impressed with the care they lavished on strangers. “Thank you.”

“Just make yourselves at home, and don't rush. I always tell folks that bird-watching is a lesson in patience.” James hooked his arm in his wife's and turned toward the house.

Gillian smiled at the sight of the couple's obvious affection. “Thanks again. This looks like fun.”

And it was. She and TJ spent half an hour in the blind, not talking but communicating with gentle touches as they spotted a new bird. When activity at the feeder diminished, they ventured into the thicket, taking advantage of the Kulaks' bench. Though they saw no birds with golden cheeks, she and TJ spotted several varieties of woodpeckers, a number of Swainson's hawks soaring as they searched for food, and more dragonflies than Gillian could count.

“So, what's the tally?” she asked when two hours had passed.

“Number of birds or species?” TJ turned, focusing the camera on her. When she gave him an exaggerated frown, he took several shots in quick succession.

“Neither. I was curious about how many pictures you'd taken.”

He glanced at his camera. “Two hundred and seventeen.”

“You can delete the last few.” Though she'd had her portrait taken dozens of times, Gillian had never been comfortable with casual shots. “Are you ready for a break?”

“Any time you are. In fact, I'm ready to head back if you are.”

Gillian nodded. “I thought we might share the snack I brought with the Kulaks. A small thank-you for letting us come.”

The older couple seemed pleased by the invitation to join them. Andrea brought out what she called proper plates and glasses, while James looked at a few of the pictures TJ had taken, identifying the birds.

“That's a pretty bird,” James said with a chuckle. “You caught her essence.”

“Let me see.” Andrea's laugh blended with her husband's. “I have a feeling you're going to be in the doghouse over this, TJ, but I like it.” She turned to Gillian. “That little pout is absolutely adorable.”

She turned the camera so Gillian could see the picture of herself feigning a pout. While she would not call it adorable, Gillian had to admit that TJ had captured something she hadn't expected to see on her face: peace. While she and TJ had been looking for birds, Gillian had been so focused on the moment that she had thought of nothing other than the pleasure of being outdoors in a particularly beautiful location.