On Lone Star Trail (28 page)

“How'd you get to be so wise?” she asked TJ.

“Me wise? You're the one who set me on the right path. Thanks to you, I'm mending my relationship with God.”

Nothing he could have said would have pleased her more.

T
he phone woke Gillian from the first deep sleep she'd had in days.

“Hello?” She switched on the light as she picked up the receiver, frowning at the red numbers on the alarm clock. Three a.m. was no time for a call. “Who's this?”

“Kate Vange. Best friend and expectant mother.” Kate's voice held a note of amusement as well as something else, something Gillian couldn't identify. “Remember when I told you Junior was anxious to be born?” Gillian nodded, recalling the conversation they'd had only yesterday. “It seems I was right. I'm in labor.”

The last vestiges of sleep fled from Gillian's brain as she realized the element she could not identify in Kate's voice was strain. “Labor? Really?” The fear Gillian had tried to control flooded through her. “You're not due for another month.”

History wouldn't repeat itself, she told herself firmly. Kate and her baby would be fine.

Oblivious to Gillian's distress, Kate chuckled. “Junior didn't get the message. Greg and I are on our way to the hospital now. If the doctor agrees that it's not false labor, would you bring Sally? Roy left last night for a golf tournament in El Paso.”

When Kate finished giving her directions, she said, “I'll call you in an hour or so. Ooh! Here it comes. Sorry.”

Gillian heard Kate's intake of breath as another contraction hit her. “Call me later,” she said and hung up the phone. There'd be no more sleep for any of them tonight.

Two hours later, Gillian was headed toward San Antonio with Sally in the passenger seat. Though otherwise she appeared relaxed, Gillian noticed that Sally gripped the armrest.

“I'm glad you're driving,” she said as Gillian swung onto the freeway. “City traffic and I don't get along.” And there was the fact that Sally hadn't driven in over a year. Gillian hoped that was the reason for Sally's tension and that she wasn't remembering another premature birth and its tragic ending.

Gillian merged into the surprisingly heavy stream of cars and nodded. “I wouldn't miss this for anything. It's not every day I get to watch you become a great-grandmother.”

Keeping her eyes moving from the windshield to the rearview and side mirrors and back again, Gillian forced herself to smile. She would do nothing to upset the woman who'd been the closest thing to a mother she'd known. “It's still hard for me to realize Kate's about to be a mother.”

“She'll be a good one. She and Greg are meant to be parents.”

“But it'll be a big change.”

Sally nodded. “Another one. I can hardly believe how much our lives have changed in the last year.”

Most of those changes had been happy ones, with Gillian's accident being the notable exception. “At least you and Kate are settled. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do next.”

“Besides marry a minister?”

After a tractor trailer merged into traffic ahead of Gillian, she glanced at her passenger. “I wasn't joking, Sally. I believe God has something good in mind for me, but I haven't been able to figure out what it is.” Dad was sure that marriage was the
answer, but though Gillian wouldn't discount the possibility, she believed it was only a part of the plan.

“Have you considered that could be your problem?” The traces of mirth had left Sally's voice. “You think you should do all the work. Why not try the LGLG method?”

Gillian tightened her grip on the steering wheel as traffic increased and cars whizzed by her on both sides. “LGLG? What's that?”

“Let go and let God. Surely you've heard of that.”

“I know the phrase but not the acronym.” What Sally said was a variation on TJ's advice from yesterday. Surrender. Accept God's will. Seek only his approval. Gillian knew it was good advice, but while the concepts sounded easy, applying them wasn't. She knew because she'd tried. Though she'd told herself that was what she wanted to do, Gillian had discovered a barrier between her thoughts and her deeds. And a moving car in rush traffic was hardly the place to try again.

Half an hour later they reached the hospital and found Kate still in labor. Though she smiled to reassure Gillian and Sally, Kate's face left no doubt of the strain she'd been under, and Gillian said a silent prayer for both Kate and her baby.

“The doc tells me it's going to be a few more hours,” Kate said with an exaggerated frown. “Junior's not in as much of a rush as I thought.” She pointed at her husband, who looked even worse than she did, perhaps because he could do nothing more than coach Kate. “Greg has to stay here. That's part of our deal, but you two can relax. The coffee shop is very nice,” she told Sally, turning her attention to Gillian as she said, “So is the chapel.”

“Have you been talking to Sally?” Gillian demanded when Sally reluctantly agreed she could use a cup of coffee.

“Nope. I just looked at your face. You look like you could use some quiet time. I spent my share of time in the chapel last year and can vouch that it's a special place.”

And so Gillian found herself in the hospital chapel. It was a simple room, as quiet as Kate had promised. Though it could accommodate thirty or forty people, Gillian was the only one there. If she was going to LGLG, this might be the right place.

She knelt, folded her hands, and bowed her head, not sure where to start. She needed words, but none were forthcoming. Instead Gillian pictured the first painting she had seen of Jesus, one that had hung in the Sunday school she'd attended as a child. Even then she had known there was something special about that painting.

Jesus's eyes had seemed to be looking directly at her, and though she now knew they were nothing more than an artist's representation, created with a dab of oil paint and a brush, at the time she'd felt as if the love she'd seen in those eyes was able to touch her. Jesus didn't need a halo to tell viewers he was holy. He possessed infinite love, infinite power, infinite wisdom, and all of them shone from the painting.

Her father loved her. Like Jesus, he wanted only the best for her. Had her mother lived, she would have lavished love on Gillian. But their love, as strong as it was, could not compare to the love of her heavenly father. His was the only love that knew no boundaries.

Gillian nodded slowly. God would lead her. He might have closed a door, but he would show her the way to the open window, if only she would let him. She rose and unfolded her hands. Facing the stained glass window, she slowly extended her hands, turning them so her empty palms faced upward.

“I have nothing to offer,” she said softly, “but I put my life in your hands. Lead me, Lord.”

There was no answer, and yet as she stood there, Gillian felt the tension drain from her, and in its place, she found peace.

“Thank you, Lord.”

I
f you're looking for Gillian, she's at the hospital.”

Fear sliced through TJ, destroying both his appetite and the anticipation he'd felt about spending the evening with Gillian. He'd missed her at breakfast but hadn't worried, because her schedule had been erratic recently. When a faculty meeting had kept him later than usual, he'd been annoyed but had told himself it was only a couple hours before supper. He'd see Gillian then. Or so he'd thought, until Kevin, one of the teenage waitstaff, had turned anticipation into dread.

TJ tried not to shudder at the thought of Gillian in a hospital. Though Kevin sounded almost nonchalant, TJ associated hospitals with suffering and death.

“What happened?” Gillian had to be all right. She simply had to. TJ didn't know what he'd do if yet another person he loved were taken from him. Surely God wouldn't do that, especially now that TJ was finding his way back to him.

He took a deep breath, trying to vanquish the fears that threatened to smother him. Gillian had occupied his thoughts even more than normal today as he'd come to grips with the fact
that he loved her, that he wanted her to be a permanent part of his life. It had been a bittersweet realization as he'd struggled with the knowledge that he had little to offer her—no home, no full-time employment, not even the large extended family she longed for. The truth was, TJ had nothing that would make this wonderful woman want to share her life with him. And now she was lying in some hospital somewhere.

Kevin looked up from the tray he was unloading onto the lazy Susan, his expression remarkably calm for someone who'd just delivered a bombshell. “Gillian's fine. She's staying with Kate and Greg for a while.” As TJ tried to absorb his words, Kevin gave him a sympathetic look. “I guess you didn't hear the news. Kate had a baby an hour or so ago. It was all anyone could talk about in the office.”

But TJ had bypassed the reception area. “That's good news.” Doubly good news. As relief chased the adrenaline from his bloodstream, TJ felt himself relax. In a minute or so, other guests would fill the table. It was an ordinary evening at Rainbow's End except for the arrival of Baby Vange. There had been no reason to panic. Gillian was safe.

TJ blinked in surprise as images danced through his brain. The picture of himself holding an infant in his arms morphed into one of him standing in front of a congregation next to a young couple and their baby. TJ had never baptized anyone. He'd never married a couple. He'd never presided at a funeral. In the past, counseling people, sharing God's Word with them as he tried to assuage their pain and their fears, had been enough. But though he could not explain what had caused the change, today was different. He felt as if something seismic had shifted his life focus. The role he'd played in the past no longer seemed adequate. He wanted more. Much more. Perhaps that was his answer.

How could one person feel totally drained and exhilarated at the same time? Gillian clenched the steering wheel as she backed out of Sally's driveway and headed to Rainbow's End. The day had been tiring, both physically and emotionally. Though it was only 8:00 p.m., she'd been awake since 3:00 a.m. It had been a long, unforgettable day as many of Gillian's prayers had been answered.

Kate and her baby were safe. Junior, who now bore the name of John Jacob Vange, had made his arrival at 5:37 after sixteen hours of labor. Though premature, he weighed over five pounds and was healthy enough that he'd be released tomorrow.

There had been no complications in the delivery, no father grieving the loss of his wife. Instead, when Sally and Gillian had been allowed back into Kate's room, they'd discovered a couple whose happiness bordered on euphoria. The strain that had creased Kate's face during labor had disappeared the instant she'd heard her son's first cry and had cradled him to her breast.

“He's perfect,” she announced. Never before had Gillian heard that note of wonder in her friend's voice. Never before had she seen such joy on Kate's face.

“Do you want to hold him?” Kate offered when great-grandma Sally relinquished the now sleeping baby.

Of course she did. Gillian reached for the almost impossibly tiny bundle. John was wearing the blue knit cap the hospital provided and the blue onesie that Kate had brought along with a matching pink one just in case Junior had turned out to be Juniorette. His fists were clenched, and his mouth was scrunched into what Gillian would have described as a scowl, though she'd never tell his proud parents that. They thought he was perfect, and he was—perfectly healthy.

Gillian smiled at the child who, despite Sally's claims to the contrary, resembled Greg far more than Kate. She had expected a sense of awe as she cradled her best friend's firstborn, but she had not expected to be filled with a longing so deep it was almost physical.

In that instant, Gillian had pictured herself holding her own baby. She wasn't certain whether she carried a boy or a girl, but she knew that the man standing behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist, was her husband and that his smile was as joyful as her own. In her mind, she turned to see his face, but though she tried, Gillian could not bring it into focus. Ever since, the image had been gnawing at her, leaving her feeling as if she'd caught a glimpse of happiness only to have it snatched away.

Sighing deeply, she pulled into Rainbow's End and headed for her parking spot, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Mike's Ferrari parked in the visitor's slot.

“Mike!” she called as she switched off the engine and hopped out of the car. He was seated on the front steps of her cabin, obviously waiting for her. “What are you doing here?”

He rose, and in the light from the streetlamp, she saw a hint of amusement mingled with something else—perhaps frustration, perhaps boredom. “It's Tuesday,” he said, his drawl more pronounced than normal. “We were going to have barbecue together.”

Embarrassment and regret swept over Gillian. Tonight was supposed to be the night she proved to herself she'd overcome the discomfort she had experienced at the symphony. It was supposed to be a night of good food and good conversation, a chance to put the symphony and the paparazzi behind them. Instead, Gillian had left Mike sitting here for more than two hours without so much as a call.

A call. She reached into her purse, chagrined to realize she hadn't turned her phone back on. She'd switched it off when she'd entered the chapel, and that had been the last time she'd thought of it.

“I'm so sorry.” Gillian held out her hands, hoping Mike would accept her apology. “It's not a good excuse, but with all the excitement, I completely forgot about our date.”

She would let him think the excitement had been over the
arrival of Kate and Greg's son, though that was only a small part of the reason Gillian had forgotten both their date and her phone. What had happened in the chapel was so new, so deeply personal, that she had told no one, not even Sally.

Apparently unfazed by her forgetfulness, Mike nodded and clasped her hands. His were warm and strong, reminding Gillian of how they'd felt when he'd touched the back of her waist leaving the symphony hall and how she'd felt safe and protected when he'd wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they'd dodged the paparazzi.

“I figured that's what happened. When you weren't here, I checked inside. The guy at the front desk told me about Kate's baby. I didn't want to leave without seeing you, so I went into Dupree, found cell service, and did some work.” He shrugged. “There's no shortage of that. But tell me about the baby. Is everyone healthy?”

“Very. Happy too. The only one who isn't happy is me. I'm not happy that I forgot about our date. I should have called you.” Gillian thought quickly, searching for a way to salvage the evening. “Have you eaten?”

Mike shook his head. “I was waiting for you.”

“I can't promise you barbecue—Tuesday's spaghetti night at Rainbow's End—but if you give me a few minutes, I should be able to come up with something to curb those hunger pangs.” As her stomach growled, Gillian chuckled. “Mine too.”

Mike insisted on accompanying her to the kitchen and entertaining her with stories of his day as she raided the refrigerator and prepared a plate of roast beef sandwiches with tossed and molded salads on the side. There were even two pieces of Carmen's famous chocolate pound cake left for their dessert.

“Where would you like to eat?” Though no one would mind if they used the dining room, being there raised the possibility of interruptions by guests in search of Rainbow's End's
signature evening treats: milk and cookies. Though Mike had been good-natured about the change of plans, Gillian doubted he'd appreciate that.

He tipped his head to one side, obviously considering her question. “How about the gazebo, or is it too much trouble to take the food out there?”

“It'll be perfect.” Gillian opened one of the lower cabinets and retrieved a large tray. “That's why trays were invented.”

Within minutes, she and Mike were seated inside the gazebo, balancing plates on their laps. It might not be barbecue, but Carmen's food was always delicious.

“Have you made plans for Memorial Day?” Mike asked when he'd finished his first sandwich and had helped himself to a second along with a refill of iced tea.

“Not yet.” Kate had been so focused on her pregnancy that if she and Greg had special plans for Rainbow's End, she hadn't mentioned them to Gillian, and no one at the senior center had talked about the holiday. “I imagine Dupree has some kind of celebration, but I don't know what's involved.”

Mike nodded as if her reply pleased him. “I was hoping you'd spend the day with me. I won't mislead you. It's a family event. All the aunts, uncles, and cousins are invited, so it can be a bit chaotic, but I think you'd enjoy the parade and the fireworks.” Mike took a slug of tea, his eyes serious as he continued. “I'm probably prejudiced, but I believe Blytheville does a good job of helping people remember the reason for the holiday. It's not just about barbecues.”

That sounded like a refreshing change from the usual commercial focus. And having the whole family involved was a definite plus. Though both Stacy and Mike had issued mild warnings, Gillian was looking forward to meeting the rest of the Tarkett clan. “Thanks. I'd like that.”

She took another bite of her sandwich. While she might not be as hungry as Mike, she was enjoying the simple meal and
the chance to relax after an undeniably eventful day. “Now, tell me how your campaign is going.”

Mike did, making even the planning meetings seem entertaining. “You're really enjoying it, aren't you?” He'd spoken for close to five minutes, enough time for Gillian to finish her meal and set her plate aside.

“Yeah.” He nodded when Gillian offered to refill his glass. “Of course it helps that the family is behind me.”

“That doesn't surprise me. If there was one thing I learned the first time I met them, it's that your parents are determined to make you Blytheville's next mayor. My impression is that when they want something, they get it.”

Mike nodded. “You'd be right about that.” He drained his glass, then laid it and his plate on the bench beside him. “I almost forgot. Mom asked me to give you something.”

“She did?” Gillian couldn't imagine what that might be.

“Yes, this.” Mike leaned toward her and pressed a kiss on her cheek. It was brief and brotherly, the kind of kiss George had given Gillian on numerous occasions. She smiled at Mike, acknowledging the kiss.

Though she'd expected Mike to resume their conversation, he rose and tugged Gillian to her feet. “That was from my mother. This is from me.”

Moving slowly but surely, Mike drew Gillian into his arms and lowered his lips to hers. There was nothing tentative about the kiss. Mike kissed as masterfully as he did everything else. His lips were firm, the kiss somehow familiar, as if they'd done this before. His hands were warm and comforting as he stroked her back, drawing her closer to him. It was a kiss that touched Gillian's heart and stirred her senses, the perfect ending to the day. And yet as they drew apart, it was not Mike who filled her thoughts.