On Lone Star Trail (23 page)

T
he truck looked like a dozen others in Dupree—big, black, with darkened windows. TJ paid no attention to it until it stopped next to his bike and the driver rolled down his window.

“Got a minute?” Mike Tarkett asked.

“That depends.” TJ had been planning on a long ride. While he couldn't regret the way he'd spent his after-school time yesterday, he still wanted an hour with the wind in his face to clear his head while he processed Pastor Bill's challenge.

Seemingly unconcerned that he hadn't gotten a more positive response, Mike switched off the engine and climbed out, then leaned against the side of the truck. “We need to talk.”

Though his posture appeared casual, the gleam in Mike's eyes left TJ no doubt that this was a conversation he did not want to have. TJ had only one thing in common with the Tarkett heir, and he had no desire to discuss her.

“I heard you took Gillian to the rodeo.”

TJ tried not to bristle. It was possible Mike didn't intend to sound either confrontational or condescending, even though that was the way his words came across. “So what if I did? She
had a good time.”
And she kissed me.
Not that that was any of this guy's business.

Mike crossed his arms, his displeasure evident. “You're wasting your time. Gillian deserves the finer things in life.”

“And I suppose you plan to give them to her.”

“Exactly.” Mike stood up straight and glared at TJ. “I'm taking her to the symphony this week, and next week . . .”

If he was supposed to be impressed, TJ was not. He also had no intention of listening to Mike's plans. “You think that's what she wants.” He made it a statement, not a question. Though Mike was not an arrogant man, his self-assurance grated on TJ.

Mike nodded. “It's what she deserves. I can't do anything about what happened to her career, but I can give her the life she's meant to have.”

TJ waved as two of his co-workers exited the building, waiting until they were out of earshot before he spoke. This was one conversation that did not need to be overheard.

“I see.” He infused his words with every ounce of sarcasm he possessed. “It's all very altruistic of you. The fact that having Gillian Hodge at your side would help your campaign never crossed your mind, did it?” When Mike looked as if he wanted to respond, TJ shook his head. He was on a roll, and nothing was going to stop him. “My guess is that Mommy and Daddy planned everything. They decided you needed a wife or at least a beautiful woman to attend fundraisers and other events with you. It wasn't coincidence that you came to Rainbow's End when Gillian was there, was it?”

Mike blanched, and for the first time, that self-assured veneer cracked. Was it possible he hadn't considered his parents' motives?

“You're wrong,” he announced, his composure sliding back in place.

“Am I? Everyone knows your family gets what it wants.” Though they'd never been accused of underhanded dealings,
the Tarkett clan hadn't gotten to their position of prominence by being soft with competitors.

“You're right. We do get what we want, and what I want is Gillian. She's a mighty special woman.” Though Mike's voice was firm, the look he gave TJ was almost conciliatory. “I don't need to tell you that. Let's be frank about this. I can give her the kind of life she deserves.”

And TJ couldn't. The implication was clear. TJ was tempted to punch his fist into Mike's face, but he didn't. It might make him feel better temporarily, but he knew how Gillian would react.

“That's three times you've talked about what Gillian deserves,” he said as calmly as he could. “What about what she wants? Doesn't she get a say in this?”

Mike flinched as if TJ had hit him. “You're twisting my words.”

“Am I?”

There was a second of silence before Mike straightened his shoulders and shot another glare at TJ. “Look, TJ.” The voice that might have caused competitors to reconsider their position had no effect on TJ other than to increase his anger. “I only came here to tell you my intentions. I've done that. Just so you can't twist my words, let me say it one more time: I care about Gillian and I plan to do everything in my power to convince her to marry me, so back off.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hey, stranger.” Gillian smiled when she saw Brianna emerging from Hill Country Pieces as she was leaving the bookstore. It wasn't coincidence that Marisa had decided to locate Hill Country Pages across the street from her friend Lauren's quilt shop, any more than the choice of names had been coincidental.

Marisa had explained that she and Lauren always referred
to the quilt shop by its initials and that she wanted her store to have those initials in common with her best friend's establishment. As for the location, both women knew there would be synergies—a fancy term for the fact that many of Dupree's women shopped for both books and quilting supplies. Today that proximity benefited Gillian.

As she crossed the street, she continued talking to Brianna. “I missed you last night.” And the night before. Though she hadn't wanted to ask the other teens what had happened, Gillian had been concerned when neither Brianna nor Todd had attended the campfire gatherings the past two evenings and when there'd been no answer to her knock on Brianna's trailer. She had believed Brianna had bounced back from Pete's declaration that she was too young, but something had caused a relapse. Now she'd have a chance to learn the reason.

A scowl marred Brianna's pretty face. “Campfire stories are for kids.”

Biting her tongue, lest she point out that Brianna was the same age as many of the people she was referring to as kids, Gillian said only, “I thought you enjoyed them.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Brianna stared down the street, as if searching for someone, then frowned as she pulled out her cell phone to check the time. “I've got better things to do now.”

Though she wished she were wrong, Gillian suspected Brianna was once again waiting for Pete Darlington and that he was late.

Her disappointment obvious, Brianna glanced at the shopping bag in her hand. “I bought this for my mom for Mother's Day,” she said, opening the bag so Gillian could look inside. “Do you think she'll like it?”

The quilted messenger bag with Natalie Carter's initials in the center of an intricate design was one of the most beautiful and practical things Gillian had seen. “It's gorgeous. I'm sure she'll love it.”

Gillian tamped down the wistful feeling whose intensity surprised her. It had been years since she and Kate had gone Mother's Day shopping together, trying to find the perfect gift for Sally. After they'd decided on a designer handbag, Kate's eyes had filled with tears. “I still remember my mom,” she said. Gillian had no such memories. Her mother was the woman in the photographs that covered one wall of her father's bedroom.

Forcing a smile, Gillian added, “I know I'd enjoy having something like this.” And she would enjoy buying one for someone. Though Stacy Tarkett's face popped into her mind, Gillian knew it would be presumptuous to give Mike's mother a gift on Mother's Day.

Fortunately, Brianna seemed oblivious to Gillian's descent into melancholy. She gave the street another quick look, her frown turning into a pout when there was no sign of Pete. “You'd have to wait awhile if you wanted your initials on one, but Lauren's got others ready-made. They're pretty nice.”

They were indeed. Gillian looked at the bag again, wondering whether Lauren had something similar for Kate to use as a diaper bag. “Thanks for the suggestion. Do you want to help me pick out something for Kate's baby?” The baby wouldn't appreciate the exquisite design, but his or her mother would.

Though her eyes lit with enthusiasm, as if she were unaccustomed to being asked for advice, Brianna shook her head. “I can't. Pete'll be here any minute.” The tug on her cropped top covered a bit more of Brianna's midriff but revealed more of her generous curves. “He's gonna take me for a ride.”

I'll bet.
Gillian wouldn't say that. Instead, she placed a hand on Brianna's arm. “I thought you two broke up.”

Brianna wasn't listening. Her face wreathed with a smile, she pointed toward a dented and dirty black truck with a faded flag decal on its left rear bumper. “There he is.” Though all the parking on Pecan was angled, Pete didn't bother to park. Instead he pulled close to the curb, taking up three spots.

It was clear Brianna had forgotten Gillian's existence. Gripping the shopping bag in one hand, she climbed into the truck and slid across the seat toward Pete, then flung her arms around him.

Gillian wasn't surprised when Pete cupped Brianna's head to draw her closer. She wasn't surprised by the long, lingering kiss. What did surprise her was that as soon as he'd broken the kiss, Pete looked directly at Gillian and winked.

What was that all about?

Think about it, Pastor Bill had said. TJ frowned as he closed the cabin door behind him and headed for the dining room. He felt as if he'd done nothing but think since the minister had issued his invitation on Monday. It was Wednesday evening now, and TJ still wasn't certain.

He'd thought about being in a pulpit, preaching the Good News, and though he hadn't expected it, there had been an undeniable appeal to the thought, especially when coupled with the satisfaction he'd found at being able to ease Gillian's pain. For the rest of the day, he'd felt an inner glow that reminded him of the years he'd been known as the RV Reverend. The glow had faded by the next morning, replaced by the old familiar doubts.

Pastor Bill was mistaken if he believed TJ had anything to offer his congregation. He didn't. There had been a time when he'd been confident—some might even have called him cocky—about the messages he delivered, but he'd been forced to face reality. He was a fraud. Though he'd spouted platitudes like “God will never forsake you,” the emptiness TJ had felt when Deb died left him with no doubt that he'd been forsaken. Anger had filled the empty spaces for a while, but then the emptiness returned and with it the realization that he had no right to call himself a minister. A man whose faith was as weak as TJ's was
the last person who should try to help others find peace in God's messages. He would never again counsel or preach.

TJ had kept his vow for over a year, but when Gillian had so obviously needed help, he had slipped back into the role that had once felt so comfortable. Perhaps it had been coincidence that he had remembered the
Sound of Music
quote immediately after his silent prayer, but TJ doubted it. Though he wasn't worthy, God had given him the words to comfort Gillian. Was that enough? TJ didn't know. No matter what Pastor Bill thought, no matter how appealing the prospect had been for that split second, TJ feared he was not meant to be a minister again.

Dismissing ideas of the ministry had not settled his thoughts. It had only sent them in different, equally painful directions. As happened so often, he found himself thinking about Gillian, but instead of remembering the good times they'd shared, thanks to his conversation with Mike, he focused on how little he had to offer her.