A Path Less Traveled by Cathy Bryant

you even asked. He
searched the menu. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. What’s good?”
    “Everything.”
Mama Beth and Dani answered in unison.
    “Don’t mind
them,” Steve intoned, taking a sip from his filled cup, “even though their
talking in stereo is a little scary.”
    Dani gave a
sideways hug to her mother. “Great minds . . .”
    “. . . think
alike.” The older woman finished the sentence, a broad smile splayed across her
face.
    Steve shook his
head. “Something tells me I’m in a lot of trouble. Just think, Andy, I used to
be like you—happy, living the simple bachelor life.”
    Dani punched her
husband’s arm. “Watch it, mister, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”
    Andy laughed
along with the rest of them, but it was a laugh he didn’t feel. The Granny lady
returned to their table, stationed herself next to him, and asked for his
order. “I’d like the catfish, cole slaw, and fries. And a cup of coffee,
please.”
    “You shoulda said
something when I was here earlier with the coffee pot.” She muttered and
glowered.
    “Sorry.”
    The woman huffed
and scribbled down the other orders, then came back a few minutes later with a
cup and coffee pot. She clunked down the cup and sloshed coffee into it, obviously
still agitated he’d neglected to follow some unspoken small town café protocol.
    After she left,
Dani laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t mind her. Once she gets to know you, she
can be really sweet.”
    Steve crossed his
arms, rested them on the table, and looked Andy in the eye. “Dad tells me
you’re thinking of moving to Miller’s Creek.”
    Andy swallowed a
swig of the fresh, hot brew. “Not exactly. I’m thinking about setting up a
private practice in a small town. Miller’s Creek might or might not be that
place.”
    “Well, of course,
you should move here.” Dani looked at her husband pointedly. “Don’t you think
so, honey?”
    Steve frowned and
shifted in his seat.
    “I’d do a lot of
praying first.” Mama Beth stated the words matter-of-factly. “Just ask Dani.
The adjustment to small town life isn’t easy.”
    Andy nodded. “I
think I pretty much understand how small towns operate.”
    “Yeah, Dad
mentioned you grew up in a small town.” Steve’s eyes narrowed, an unyielding
expression that always made him feel like he was under interrogation.
“Berringer, right?”
    “Yep. Born and
raised there.”
    “C’mon, you two.
You’re gonna scare him off.” Dani glared at Steve and Mama Beth, then returned
her attention to him. “It is an adjustment, but you lived here long enough last
year to know the challenges.”
    Andy’s heart rate
quadrupled just thinking about the nightmare of the entire town’s suspicions
and assumptions laid on his shoulders. He still found it hard to believe they
suspected him of trying to torch downtown Miller’s Creek.
    Dani continued.
“It’s difficult, but not impossible.”
    Her comment
didn’t instill a lot of confidence. The food arrived, and Andy concentrated on
his meal to allow him time to think. He took a bite of the mouth-watering
catfish and glanced at Steve’s friends—what did he call them?—the old codgers?
No, the old geezers. They all leaned forward and spoke in conspiratorial
whispers. Why did he get the distinct impression he was already a rotten grape
on the town grapevine? Or was his imagination making too much out of it?
    After lunch, Andy
spent the afternoon driving around Miller’s Creek and settling into his room at
Mama Beth’s, then drove to the Miller’s ranch as the sun lowered in the western
sky.
    He stepped out of
his car and peered up at the Colonial-styled house. Surrounded by giant oaks,
the brick two-story seemed better suited to the Deep South—with antebellum
plantations and trees dripping Spanish moss—instead of the rolling hills of
central Texas. He wandered up the massive steps and rang the doorbell, still
puzzled over why Steve had invited him for supper.
    The