The Doctor's Family Reunion

by Mindy Obenhaus

  “Good. Ellie Mae told me she wants you to take her for a walk.” She massaged the dog’s head.

  “Oh, Mom.” He waved, trotting up the alley, bouncing the ball as he went.

  Trent stared after him, his heart bursting with an emotion he’d never experienced before. Unequivocal and unconditional love for a boy he’d never even met.

  * * *

  Blakely watched after her son, then cut a fiery glare at Trent, pointing the impact wrench in his direction. “Don’t think I’m buying this bit about you being here as mere coincidence. But if you think you’re going to get your hands on Austin, you’re crazy.”

  “How could you not have told me, Blakely? You of all people—”

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Oh, no. Please, not now.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ross Chapman at the rear of the Jeep Wrangler, scrutinizing her first, then Trent.

  Despite the color leaching from her face, she turned Ross’s way. “Not at all.”

  Neatly bearded with an ever-expanding paunch, the annoying Texan moved closer and extended his hand toward Trent. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Ross Chapman.” His crooked smile reminded her of a politician or unscrupulous salesman. Ever ready, usually insincere.

  Trent hesitated before acknowledging the gesture and introducing himself. Apparently even he sensed the guy was a creep.

  “Dr. Lockridge was just leaving.” A stern glare accompanied her formal reference.

  Straightening, Trent appeared to regard her with a challenge of his own. “Yes. I believe we’re finished. For now.”

  He got points for knowing when to walk away. Then again, he was good at that, wasn’t he?

  Blakely tempered her anger and addressed her next problem.

  “What can I do for you, Ross?”

  He moved in her direction, eyeing the battered tour vehicle. “Heard you had a little accident the other day. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  If he thought she’d believe that, the man was delusional.

  “Good thing you weren’t carrying a bunch of tourists.”

  She rested her elbow on a stack of tires. “You know, Ross, that’s one difference in how you and I do business. To you, they’re merely tourists. To me, they’re guests.”

  “Call ’em what you want. We both rely on them to pay our bills.” His gaze roved the truck again. “Word travels fast in a small town. Sure hope this doesn’t hurt your business.”

  Panic and anger burned a trail from her belly to her throat. Still, there was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of losing her cool.

  “I’m not worried.” Willing her body language to follow suit, she shifted the power tool to her left hand and held out her right. “Thank you for your concern, Ross.”

  His green eyes narrowed, drawing his bushy eyebrows closer together.

  Obviously, her reaction wasn’t what he’d expected.

  Good.

  Ignoring her outstretched palm, he exited the garage.

  Blakely turned back to the Jeep, feeling as though she might collapse. Her insides were as unsteady as a Tilt-a-Whirl. Would Ross really slander Adventures in Pink? What if Trent tried to take Austin?

  No. She wouldn’t allow either one to happen.

  Locking the impact wrench over a lug nut, she let it whirr. Tears stung her eyes. Her worst nightmares were coming true.

  With the wheel secure, she rested her forehead against the black rubber. I can’t do this, Lord.

  How would she ever find her footing when everything kept crashing in around her?

  She sniffed. She had to find a way.

  Because she could not—would not—lose her son or Granddad’s business.

  Chapter Three

  Trent wandered the streets of Ouray until the noon whistle pierced the air the way regret pierced his heart. Austin had been forced to pay the price for his indiscretions. Trent knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a father, and he had vowed no child of his would ever suffer the same fate. That’s why he’d married Lauren in the first place. Even though he’d loved Blakely.

  He meandered up the steep slope of Eighth Avenue, the roaring current of Cascade Falls drowning out all other sound. Too bad it didn’t cover the turmoil thundering through him.

  Hurt and anger were still at loggerheads over Blakely’s decision not to tell him about Austin. Was it because she didn’t want him to feel trapped? Or maybe she didn’t find out until after he was married. Whatever the case, she’d kept him from knowing his son.

  Guilt twisted his insides. He could only imagine the challenges she’d faced as a single parent. It couldn’t have been easy, raising a child alone.

  He plunked down on a boulder near the falls and watched the water plummet to the raging stream below. The turbulence mirrored his mood.

  Sunlight sliced through a canopy of ponderosa pine and aspens as giggles drew his attention to a couple of kids leaping from rock to rock.

  “Stay away from that water,” the mother warned her wayward children.

  While his little sister complied, the young boy inched ever closer, an adventurous smile firmly in place. With a quick lunge, his father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away.

  “Come along, son. Your mother wants to get our picture.”

  Trent envied the scene. His life could have been so different. Full instead of empty.

  I’ve decided I don’t want children, Lauren had said after the miscarriage.

  His dreams of a family shattered.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder.

  The kids’ mother sent him a pleading look. “Sir, would you mind taking our picture?”

  “Sure.”

  “All right, gang...” She herded her small family together, positioning them in front of the landmark. “This one’s for the Christmas card.”

  “Cheese.”

  Trent returned the camera and trekked away from the happy family, wishing he could douse the ache for one of his own. Everything he’d ever wanted was here in Ouray. And he never even knew it.

  “Slow down, girl.”

  A golden retriever careened toward Trent, pulling the dark-haired boy at the other end of the leash.

  Austin.

  Trent’s chest thudded with anticipation as he bent to intercept the dog.

  “Ellie Mae....” Austin moved closer, shortening the leash as he approached. “Sorry, mister.”

  “Ah, it’s all right. We’re friends, aren’t we, Ellie Mae?” He rubbed harder.

  The pooch sat at Trent’s feet, tongue dangling, and continued to enjoy the affection.

  “She sure likes you.”

  Trent savored the smile on his boy’s face, the way it sparked his brown eyes. “She’s a golden retriever. I bet there aren’t many people she doesn’t like.”

  “Yeah.” Austin knelt beside the animal and stroked her back. A smattering of freckles dotted his nose and cheekbones—like Trent had at that age. “You were at my mom’s shop.”

  “You’re a very observant young man. I’m Trent.”

  “I’m Austin.”

  “I know. Your mom’s an old friend of mine.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you know my dad?”

  Trent recognized that gleam of expectancy. For years after his mother died, he’d held on to the hope of one day meeting his father. He wanted to reveal to the boy that he was his dad. However, he knew that wasn’t necessarily what was best for Austin.

  “What has your mom told you about him?” Bolstering himself for what could be an uncomfortable response, he focused on a couple of magpies vying for a scrap of bread.

  “Not much.” Austin shrugged. “Just that he loved me, but he had to go away.”


  The reply surprised Trent and pricked his conscience. At least Blakely had acknowledged him in some sense.

  He inhaled the aroma of pine. “She’s right, you know.”

  “So you do know my dad.”

  Trent’s gut clenched. He wouldn’t lie by saying no, but even if he said yes, would Austin perceive it as a lie whenever he did learn the truth?

  “Do you think I’ll ever meet him?”

  Thankful for the reprieve, Trent said, “That, I can promise you.”

  Austin beamed.

  “By the way...” Trent straightened. “How was the basketball game?”

  The boy stood beside him now. “Too short.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah.”

  Trent wasn’t ready to relinquish these few precious moments with his son. “Well, I’m not doing anything. How about a game of one-on-one?”

  “You mean it?”

  “Sure. There’s got to be a hoop around here somewhere.”

  “There’s one at the park. Just down the road.” Austin pointed in the direction of the city’s hot springs pool. “I’d have to get my ball, though.”

  “No problem. Why don’t you let Ellie Mae run you home, and I’ll meet you at the park?”

  “Awesome!”

  As his son jogged away, Trent wondered how Blakely would react if Austin told her who he was meeting. He’d give it an hour. If Austin didn’t show by then, Trent might have to pay her another visit.

  The roar of the falls faded in the distance as he picked his way back down the rocky terrain, heading in the direction of Fellin Park. Obviously he and Blakely still had plenty to talk about. But one thing was for sure—now that Trent knew about Austin, nothing would keep him and his son apart.

  * * *

  Blakely was ready for a long soak in the motel’s hot tub. Or maybe she’d sink into a bubble bath where she could be alone. Her body ached from lifting heavy-duty tires. Her mind reeled from worrying about Trent and Ross, her son and Adventures in Pink.

  Plus, she had no idea what to fix for dinner.

  She cut through the motel’s front office, stopping to check how many guests were booked. It wouldn’t be long before every motel in town would be filled to capacity, especially on the weekends.

  “Gran?” She continued down the hall that separated the office and housekeeping areas from the main part of the house.

  “In here, dear.”

  Jethro yipped, stopping when Blakely scooped the Yorkshire terrier into her arms. Ellie Mae nudged her hand, looking for some love of her own.

  Blakely leaned against the doorjamb of the laundry room. The fragrance of spring-fresh fabric softener filled the air. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Gran smiled, pulling another load of white towels from the dryer. “You look beat.”

  “Nothing a good dinner and tub of hot water won’t cure. Where’s Austin?”

  “Still at the park, I guess.” Her grandmother halved then quartered a wash cloth and set the neat square on the stainless steel worktable. “He did tell you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I just thought he might be home by now.”

  “Well, if I know my great grandson, he probably ran into one of his friends. He’s a good boy, though. He’ll be home before dark.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She nuzzled the soft fur on Jethro’s neck. Gran was usually right. Blakely wished she could talk to her about Ross Chapman. But it would break Gran’s heart. After all, she and Granddad had run two of the most successful businesses in town for almost forty years. Through good times and bad.

  Now the season hadn’t even started—her first as owner—and Adventures in Pink was already on rocky ground.

  Shoving a stack of towels aside, Gran rounded the long table. “Would you prefer I fix dinner?”

  “No, I’m just being whiney. You have enough to do.” With Granddad gone, responsibility for the motel fell solely on Gran. Yet she never complained.

  Blakely would do well to take lessons.

  The bell dinged in the office.

  “Putting on new tires today?” Her grandmother paused on her way out the door.

  “How’d you know?”

  Gran ran a thumb across Blakely’s cheek, then held it up to reveal a black smudge. “It’s written all over your face.” Chuckling, she continued down the hall.

  Blakely groaned. No telling how many people she’d talked with looking this way.

  She set Jethro to the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom. “I am so ready for this day to be over.”

  This was the first time she’d prepped a new fleet of rental Jeeps without Granddad’s supervision. With so many details, she feared overlooking something. It was a labor-intensive and time-consuming process, yet one that would pay off when the vehicles went to auction at the end of the season.

  Standing by the bathroom sink, she grabbed her face wash and squeezed a small puddle of the creamy cleanser onto her fingertips. It was that attention to detail that kept customers coming back to Granddad’s place year after year. Details Ross Chapman would never understand.

  Who did he think he was, barging into her shop, threatening Adventures in Pink? The man made her angry enough to spit fire. The only good part of his visit was the look on Trent’s face when he realized they weren’t alone.

  Fear tapped at the edge of Blakely’s mind as she hovered over the marble vanity, scrubbing her face. Why did Trent have to show up now, after all these years? How would she explain things to Austin? He’d always been curious about his father, especially once he started school. Would he be mad at her? At Trent?

  She pressed a hot-water-soaked washcloth against her cheeks and forehead. Trent must think her the same girl who’d once fallen for his boy-next-door routine. Accusing her of keeping Austin a secret in the next.

  She tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed a soft white towel from the bar on the wall. I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you, Trent. Just know that I’d never keep this child, your child, from knowing his or her father.

  How she’d agonized over that dumb letter.

  “Handwritten letters flow from your heart,” Gran maintained, presenting Blakely with personalized stationery on every birthday, instilling a long-held appreciation for the dying art.

  Well, that was one letter she wished she hadn’t written. She never imagined Trent would wait ten years to take her up on her offer.

  Slipping the towel back into place, Blakely glimpsed something in the mirror that she thought she’d buried long ago. Yet there it was, hidden behind steely determination and hundreds of freckles.

  The sting of Trent’s betrayal.

  She took a deep breath and shook off the self-pity, vowing not to allow Trent or Ross to rob her of an enjoyable evening with her son.

  In the kitchen, Blakely stared into the freezer, discounting chicken and pork chops before spotting a bag of frozen meatballs. She checked the pantry, giving herself a mental high five when she found both spaghetti sauce and noodles.

  “Can’t get much easier than that.” Unless you counted cereal as a meal. And to her knowledge, Austin was the only one in the house who did.

  She put a pot of water on to boil, then emptied the meatballs into a nonstick skillet. She nudged them around the pan as they sizzled.

  Time had been kind to Trent. He’d always been ruggedly handsome, but now he was downright gorgeous.

  Blakely froze, her spatula in midair. She’d lost her mind.

  “You’re just tired,” she mumbled, returning her attention to the stove.

  Not to mention lonely.

  “Grrr.” She transferred the contents of the skillet to a saucepan and dumped in the jar of tomato sauce.

  “Maybe you could st
ay for dinner.” Somewhere outside the window, Austin schemed with one of his friends. Luckily, spaghetti meant plenty to go around, so she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing that disappointed frown of his.

  A few moments later the front door flew open.

  “Mom?” He rushed into the kitchen. “Can I invite a friend for dinner?”

  “Sure. Who is it?”

  “Trent.”

  Chapter Four

  Trent’s apprehension over Austin’s dinner request paled in comparison to the look of horror on Blakely’s face when she emerged from the kitchen. Pausing at the back of the sofa, she dug her fingers into the soft beige fabric until her knuckles were white.

  He knew he should feel sorry for her, but sympathy was mitigated by his desire to spend time with his son. A son Blakely never told him about.

  Austin seemed oblivious to the tension, though. “Mom, look what Trent taught me.” In one quick movement, he gave his basketball a spin and uprighted it on his index finger, just like Trent had taught him. His brown eyes sparkled as he watched the rotating orb.

  “Hey, you mastered it.” A smiling, and seemingly more relaxed, Blakely dashed for a bookshelf. “We need a picture of this.”

  “Mom. You don’t have to take a picture of everything.”

  Camera in hand, she paused. “Son, you know me better than that. Of course, I do.”

  Trent’s gaze traversed the combined living and dining area. Nearly every surface, both vertical and horizontal, was adorned with family photos.

  He had two. One of him as an infant with his mom and dad, and one of him and his mom, not long before she died.

  He urged Austin forward. “Don’t give your mom such a hard time.”

  Blakely held the digital camera in front of her and stared at the screen. “Ready?”

  Austin gave the ball another spin and smiled.

  After a brilliant flash, she checked the shot. “That’ll make the scrapbook.”

  “The kid’s got a persistent streak.” Trent patted Austin on the back. “He worked at it all afternoon until he got it right.”

  Blakely’s smile faltered. “You...spent the afternoon together?”

  “Uh-huh.” Austin shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you and Trent are friends.” He set the ball beside the front door. “I can’t wait to show Zach.”