On Lone Star Trail (26 page)

I
t wasn't a mistake. Gillian frowned as she ran the brush through her hair, trying to tame the tangles that somehow managed to appear overnight. The kiss she and TJ had shared was
not
a mistake.

Admittedly, the evening had not turned out the way she'd expected. When she'd shopped for the dress and later when she'd applied her makeup and styled her hair, she'd thought about how the evening might end. She'd expected a kiss. More than one, actually. She'd expected a romantic interlude with sweet words and even sweeter kisses. What she hadn't expected was that it would be TJ who gave her that kiss and that the interlude preceding it would be far from romantic.

The way the evening ended had been unexpected, and yet Gillian could not regret it. TJ might not believe in Jeremiah 29:11, but she did. It and Romans 8:28 were among her favorite Bible verses. Although she had yet to discover the good behind her accident, and though she was still struggling to imagine what the future might hold in store for her, Gillian knew that God did work things out for the best.

Last night was a good example. If she hadn't been distressed
by the concert, she would not have gone to the dock. If she hadn't gone to the dock, she wouldn't have met TJ there. And if she hadn't met TJ, she wouldn't have received—and given—comfort. That was all part of God's plan, and so was the kiss. It had stirred her senses, but more importantly, it had shown her that TJ was beginning to heal.

As they'd walked beneath one of the resort's lights, Gillian had seen the difference in his eyes. The pain that had dominated his life had lessened. It might have been their conversation. It might have been the kiss. The cause didn't matter. What mattered was the result. That was not a mistake.

And the way she felt this morning was not a mistake, either. Though she'd lain awake for hours, replaying her time with TJ and the unforgettable kiss, Gillian had wakened feeling energized, as if TJ wasn't the only one who was healing.

She frowned again as she glanced at the clock and realized she'd missed breakfast. That hadn't been her intention, but perhaps it was for the best. She needed more time before she saw TJ again.

Ten minutes later Gillian climbed the stairs to Kate's apartment, hoping her friend wasn't going to grill her about her date with Mike but recognizing the unlikelihood of that. At least Kate didn't know what had happened on the dock. Even if she had been looking out one of her windows, none of them overlooked the dock.

“Do you and Mike have any plans for today or are you still recovering from your big night?” Kate asked when she'd offered Gillian a cup of coffee. She settled back in her chair, glancing at the laptop on the table in front of them. “You certainly caught the paparazzi's attention. I had half a dozen Google alerts this morning.”

Kate tapped the screen to wake it and read, “‘Has Mike Tarkett found the woman of his dreams?' Only you can answer that. Here's another one. ‘A noteable match?' They spelled it
wrong and even put a musical note next to it in case readers didn't catch the pun. ‘Renowned pianist and Hill Country heir spotted together.' You get the idea.”

Gillian tried not to wince. “I didn't think anyone recognized me.”

“You, my friend, were dreaming if you believed that.” Kate slid the plate of pastries closer to Gillian, encouraging her to take one. Though Gillian's hunger had faded with the realization that she was once again a news item, she knew she needed to eat something before she went to the center.

“Reporters are trained to ferret out names,” Kate continued, “and when that name is as famous as yours, there's no chance of anonymity. I wouldn't be surprised if a couple paparazzi showed up here today.”

“Would you mind?”

Kate shook her head. “You know better than that. Every marketing manager loves free publicity.”

Gillian wouldn't be at Rainbow's End if they arrived, but knowing Kate, she'd charm the reporters so much that they might wind up doing a feature about the resort's renaissance rather than the former pianist who was a guest. And if they discovered that Gillian worked at Hill Country Pages, Marisa's shop might see a boost in sales.

“That only leaves Mike to worry about,” Gillian said after she'd washed down the pastry with a slug of coffee. “I hope all this buzz doesn't hurt him.”

Kate looked puzzled. “How could it?”

“I don't know.” Though the press that had covered her career had been mostly benign, one reporter had believed he could boost his ratings by being the first to report a scandal in Gillian's past. When he'd found nothing, he'd resorted to innuendos that, while ungrounded, had made her manager cringe and insist on a retraction. Gillian hoped nothing similar would happen to Mike.

“All I know is that I don't want to do anything to hurt his chances of being elected.”

Kate smiled as she rubbed her ever-expanding baby bump. “If you really want to help Mike, you'll say yes when he asks that very special question.”

The question TJ would never ask. As color triggered by the memory of the kiss they'd shared flooded to Gillian's cheeks, she forced a light tone to her voice. “You're getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?”

“Am I?” Kate's eyes took in the telltale blush. “It doesn't look like it from where I'm sitting.”

“It's not what you think.” And, though she shared most things with her dearest friend, Gillian had no intention of telling her what had happened on the dock or how often her thoughts turned to the man who'd loved so deeply that he would not let himself love again.

“To answer your original question, I thought I'd spend some time at the senior center.” Since it was Saturday, Gillian was not scheduled to work at the bookstore. “Want to join me?”

Kate shook her head. “Greg and I are going to San Antonio to do some shopping. I can't believe it, but my husband has discovered he was born with a shopping gene after all, at least where the baby's concerned. He wants to kick the tires on a stroller for Junior. Apparently this one has running lights like some of the trucks.”

Gillian couldn't help smiling at the image. “I've heard about men and their toys, but I didn't know that strollers fell into the man-toy category.”

“That's because Greg's not your average man.”

And neither was TJ.

Was she right? TJ had spent a virtually sleepless night asking himself that question. Now he was rowing around Bluebonnet
Lake for the umpteenth time, trying to answer it. Was anger what had distanced him from God?

His arms ached, but that pain was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He'd spent more than a year without the peace Gillian had described, and that had taken its toll on him. Though he'd traveled thousands of miles and had seen some of the country's most beautiful spots, nothing he'd done had filled the emptiness inside. It wasn't only the loss of Deb that had weighed on him. The greater anguish had come from losing the closeness he had once felt to his Lord, the knowledge that God was watching over him, guiding him. How had that happened?

When he reached the far side of the lake, TJ laid the oars aside and stared at the small island. Though he'd circled it numerous times, he'd never set foot on it. Perhaps he would some other day. Today he was content to simply look at the spot that had captured so many people's fancy. It was beautiful, as beautiful as Deb had been. Even when cancer had deprived her of her hair, she'd still been beautiful to TJ, because her beauty had been more than superficial. She'd had a beautiful spirit, and that had shone through eyes that had endured overwhelming pain.

Deb had been strong. He was not. While Deb was alive, TJ had believed his faith was as strong as his parents'. That was one of the reasons serving as the RV Reverend had felt so right. But when the moment of testing had come, he'd failed.

Gillian was right: TJ had been angry. He'd been angry that Deb suffered. If he could have, he would gladly have borne that suffering so she could be spared. But the real anger was at himself. In those dark moments after her funeral, he'd told himself that if only his faith had been strong enough, God would have healed Deb the way Jesus had healed the centurion's servant.

TJ couldn't count the number of times he'd read that story, marveling at the Roman's faith. There had been times when he'd
thought his own faith was equally strong, but he was wrong. Totally wrong. TJ's faith had wavered, and when it did, he'd failed Deb, he'd failed himself, he'd failed his Lord.

As anguish clenched his heart, he leaned forward, clasping his hands around his knees and resting his head on them. “I'm sorry, Lord,” he sobbed. “Please forgive me.”

TJ had no idea how long he remained there, but when he raised his head, a ray of sunshine broke through the trees, the sight filling his heart with peace.

Gillian was halfway to Dupree when her cell phone rang. She'd turned it on when she'd left Rainbow's End, and now that she'd reached the top of Ranger Hill, she was once more in cell range. Glancing at the display and seeing Mike's picture, she pulled over and answered the call.

“How are you this morning?” he asked without preamble.

“Fine. I'm on my way to the senior center. Today's the first tai chi class, and I wanted to see how it goes.”

“I still can't quite picture seniors doing tai chi.” A faint chuckle accompanied Mike's words. “But that's not the reason I called. I was worried about you. Actually, I'm worried that I did something wrong last night.”

Gillian hated having caused this wonderful man even a moment of worry. If she were permitted a do-over, she wouldn't have run away without an explanation, but the combination of the concert and the reporters had left her so badly shaken that she hadn't been thinking clearly.

“It's nothing you did,” she said quickly, wanting to reassure him. “I just wasn't ready to be part of the music scene. It was harder than I'd expected.”

“I thought it might be something like that. I spent the night kicking myself for taking you to the concert.” Once again, Mike
was being the perfect gentleman, kind and sensitive. He was one man in a million, a twenty-first-century Prince Charming.

“It's over. No harm done.” To the contrary, though she wouldn't share the details with Mike, some very good things had resulted from her time at the concert.

“It wasn't the evening I wanted for you. Let me make it up to you.”

Gillian waved at Kate and Greg as they drove by on their way to big city shopping. “What did you have in mind?” she asked Mike. She wasn't going to spend the rest of her life pining for a man who would never love her, a man who called the sweetest of kisses a mistake. Only a stupid woman would do that, and Gillian was not stupid. Mike was a wonderful man with a wonderful family, and—unlike TJ—he didn't need time to heal.

“I was hoping you'd have dinner with me on Tuesday.” Gillian heard the smile in Mike's voice and knew she'd said the right thing. “What I had in mind was a barbecue joint that I've been to dozens of times. It's absolutely no competition for Strawberry Chantilly, so you don't have to worry that I'll be thinking about anything other than you.”