She lifted a brow. “Uh...no.”
“Here we are.” The waitress placed each order in front of its owner.
“Wow.” Trent stared at the half-pound buffalo burger on his plate. “Now that’s what I call a burger.”
“Wait till you taste it.” Austin chomped on a French fry.
“Anything else I can get you folks?”
“No, I think we’re good.” With the waitress gone, Trent glanced at Austin then Blakely. “Shall we pray?”
Blakely grabbed Austin’s hand. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Austin stretched his other hand across the table toward Trent.
The simplest of gestures, yet one that meant so much.
He clasped Austin’s hand, then offered Blakely his other.
The softness of her touch sent a wave of awareness through him. And, for a split second, it was as though they were a family.
Dreams he’d tucked away long ago drifted to the surface. Could he still have the one thing that had eluded him all his life?
Maybe...if he wasn’t going back to Albuquerque at the end of the summer.
Unfortunately, he’d made commitments that demanded just that.
Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it’s the Lord’s purpose that prevails.
The verse played across his mind as he blessed their meal. God had a plan. He knew about Austin long before Trent did. It was Trent’s job to trust God to work things out according to that plan.
Attacking the massive buffalo burger, Trent savored the perfectly seasoned meat.
Austin swallowed his first bite of the burger. Licked ketchup from his fingers. “Mom, did you know Trent had a horse?”
“No, I didn’t.” She dared to meet the man’s gaze. “I don’t imagine Vivian is letting you keep that at the inn.”
“No.” He smiled. “She’s part of an equine therapy program in Albuquerque.”
“Trent said he’d take me riding sometime.”
He cut a quick look at Austin. “If it’s all right with your mom.”
Now they both stared at Blakely as another waitress skirted past carrying a large food-laden tray.
“That’d be fine.” She gripped the first of her two fish tacos. “As long as you wear a helmet.”
“A helmet?” Trent and Austin blurted at the same time.
“Mom, I’d look like a dweeb.”
Trent pointed to the photos on the wall. “John Wayne never wore a helmet.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t John Wayne’s mother.”
Multiple conversations and the clanking of silverware and dishes filled the subsequent silence.
“I’ll think about it,” Blakely finally said, brightening Austin’s mood.
He straightened, a smile lighting his face. “It’s not as dangerous as the fire hose water fights.”
“I love the fire hose fights.” Trent set his burger down, recalling the only Independence Day he’d ever spent in Ouray but would always be remembered as the best. “Next to the fireworks, that’s the best part of the Fourth of July.”
Austin leaned his arms on the table. “I know. And Mom’s gonna be in ’em again this year.”
His gaze shifted to Blakely. “You mean you’re in the fire hose fights?”
Her chewing slowed. She nodded.
“Yeah. She did it last year. Only her team lost,” Austin filled in for her.
“We’re planning on a different outcome this year.” She reached for her water. “Taryn and I have a new strategy.”
“Which is...?” Trent lifted a brow in anticipation.
“Pffft. Like I’d tell.” And there it was. The old playful Blakely he’d fallen in love with. Her guard was down, and she was enjoying the banter.
“You shoulda seen it, Trent. Mom had like this giant black bruise on her leg.”
“Sounds kind of dangerous.” He turned a concerned eye her way.
“Not really.”
“Yeah. She’s a tough cookie.” Austin smiled up at her.
She winked. “That’s what Granddad used to say.”
Austin’s attention shifted back to Trent. “My mom does ice climbing, too. And she’s an artist.”
Trent didn’t need Austin to tell him how wonderful his mother was. He knew firsthand. And, if he had his way, he wouldn’t mind getting to know Blakely all over again. But that would require forgiveness. Something she wasn’t likely to offer him anytime soon.
* * *
Heat rushed to Blakely’s cheeks until she was, no doubt, as red as Trent’s button-down shirt. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what her son was up to. The kid was trying to fix her up with Trent. Never had she seen him so enamored with someone.
Staring at her second taco, she all but lost her appetite. The little guy didn’t have a clue. All he knew was that he liked Trent. Enough that he wanted to play matchmaker for his mother.
“Fancy running into you folks again.”
Blakely jerked her head up to find Ross Chapman standing next to them. Beside him, his daughter, Nicole, struck a pose in her hip-hugging jeans and too-tight T-shirt.
Blakely’s first taco morphed into a lead weight in her stomach.
“Ross.” She forced herself to blink. “Nicole.”
Trent stood. “Mr. Chapman. Nice to see you again.”
“No need to be formal. Call me Ross.” He swiveled toward the young woman. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Nicole.”
Slightly younger than Blakely’s twenty-nine years, Nicole was her daddy’s pride and joy. And forever trolling for a husband. Preferably one with big biceps and an even bigger wallet.
Blakely stole a glance at Trent. Hmm...a doctor would fit that bill just fine. And Trent certainly had the biceps. The man obviously never missed a workout.
The platinum blonde struck a flirtatious pose and held a perfectly manicured hand in Trent’s direction. “I hear you’re a doctor.”
Bingo!
“That’s correct.” Trent barely shook her hand. Then again, it was kind of like shaking hands with a wet noodle.
Nicole’s gaze lingered a little longer than necessary—stirring emotions Blakely refused to own up to—before turning her heavily made up face Blakely’s way. “Blakely. Austin. Good to see y’all.” If that Texas twang got any thicker it would drip like honey.
“You, too.” Blakely nudged her son. “Austin, can you say hi?”
“Hi.” He waved.
Nicole waved back, watching him a moment before her green eyes returned to Trent.
“I swear, Blakely, that boy of yours gets bigger every time I see him.” Though Ross’s words were polite enough, she’d had enough dealings with him to realize they weren’t sincere. “He’s at that age where they change so quickly. Better make sure you enjoy every moment.”
And there went the zinger. Ross’s not-so-subtle hint that she should sell Adventures in Pink so she could spend more time with her son.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Blakely draped an arm around her son. “Austin’s my right-hand man.”
Nicole’s gaze flitted from Austin to Trent and back again, shifting Blakely’s panic into full throttle. Nicole might act the part of a dumb blonde; however, she was anything but. More like shrewd and discerning. And definitely not one to dismiss the similarities between Austin and Trent without digging further.
“As it should be.” Ross placed a hand on the small of his daughter’s back and urged her away. “You folks enjoy your lunch.”
Too late. He’d already ruined it.
Trent settled back into the booth. “That was...awkward.”
“Trust me. It could have been worse.” Blakely moved her shaky hands to her lap. If the Chapmans had the slightest inkling tha
t Trent was Austin’s father, they’d find some way to use it against her.
Trent lowered his head a notch. “You okay?”
Far from it. But she couldn’t let on in front of Austin. “Fine.”
“You’ve barely touched your other taco.”
“I think I ate the first one too fast.” She grazed a hand over her stomach. “I’ll take it home and have it later.”
“Excuse me, please.” Austin wiggled next to her.
“Too many sodas?” She stood to let him out.
“Yes, ma’am.”
In Austin’s absence, Trent tucked his paper napkin beside his empty plate. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
If it involved custody of Austin, she wanted no part of it.
Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose. But not while Austin’s around.”
“Agreed.”
She faced him, mustering enough courage to ask the question that had plagued her most. “Trent, are you going to try to take Austin away from me?”
“I don’t think I can answer that right now. I’m still trying to absorb the fact that he’s my son.”
His answer was fair enough. Still, that question would be her constant companion.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Please don’t tell him who you are without me.”
“Blakely, I wouldn’t....” He raked a hand through his hair before clasping the other atop the table. “There’s so much I want to know about him.”
She jiggled the ice in her now-empty glass. “Like what?”
“Like...his middle name?”
“Blake.”
“After your father.” His voice was endearingly gentle.
She nodded.
“I like it. Is he always so easygoing?”
“For the most part.”
“When’s his birthday?”
“Who’s birthday?”
Trent’s uneasy expression mirrored her own. Was that all Austin had heard?
“Yours, of course.” Emotions collided as she scooted over to let him sit down. The day Austin was born was the happiest of Blakely’s life. It was also the saddest.
“June first,” Austin announced with pride.
“That’s coming up pretty quick, isn’t it?” Trent seemed to relax once again.
“Yeah. Hey, maybe you could come to my birthday.”
Blakely glanced from Trent to the Chapmans.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Chapter Six
The sun seemed brighter as Trent strode across the courtyard of the San Juan Inn that afternoon.
If he’d had any idea what treasures Ouray had in store for him, he would have found his way back years ago. His marriage had been over long before Lauren’s boyfriend wrapped his fancy sports car around that light pole. It seemed the closer Trent grew to the Lord, the greater the distance between him and his wife. In the end, the accident merely meant Trent would never have to sign the divorce papers he’d been avoiding for months.
Maybe you could come to my birthday.
The innocent words of a child—his child—soothed the tattered edges of his heart. The only thing sweeter would be to hear someone call him “Dad.”
He smiled and unlocked the door to his room. Soon.
A million questions plagued his brain. Everything and nothing all at once. The minutia. Not only of Austin, but Blakely. Did she still want to be an artist? Why did Ross Chapman make her so nervous? Was that spot behind her ear still ticklish?
Whoa. Wrong train of thought. Stuff like that was what got them to this point in the first place.
He tossed his keys on the nightstand and fished the vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. A stiff dose of reality hit him when he glanced at the screen.
“Hey, Scott.”
“Good news, buddy.” His friend sounded excited enough for the both of them. “The building passed inspection. We close June fifteenth.”
Trent dropped onto the bed. “That soon, huh? Tha—that’s great.”
“Can you believe it? Everything we’ve talked about since medical school is finally coming to fruition.”
Trent rubbed the back of his neck. Opening a small private practice was his dream. But he also dreamed of having a family. Or had, until Lauren dropped the bomb that she didn’t want children. So he tucked away those desires and concentrated on his career.
“Our own practice,” Scott continued. “Do you know what this means?”
That he’d be in Albuquerque while his son was in Ouray. “What?”
“No more thirty-six-hour E.R. shifts.”
“Yep.” That part he liked. Leaving Austin? Not so much.
But he’d made a commitment to Scott. They’d planned and scouted locations for months. Pooled their resources. If he backed out, the dream they worked so hard for would fall apart.
“Rebecca can’t wait to start decorating. She’s got me looking at paint swatches as we speak.”
He could hear Scott’s four-year-old daughter, Daisy, singing in the background. His friend had the whole package. A promising career, a wife, a beautiful little girl...
“What do you think, green or blue?”
He stared beyond the lace curtain, up the face of Twin Peaks. “I’m sure whatever Rebecca chooses will be great.”
Ending the call, he lay back on the queen-size bed and stared up at the ceiling.
God, please help me. I know I messed up. On multiple levels. But I don’t want my son to grow up without knowing his father. Been there, done that. I don’t want Austin to have those same questions and doubts.
He could spend summers with Austin. School breaks, perhaps long weekends. Albuquerque was only six hours away.
But it wouldn’t be the same.
Unfortunately, it would have to do. He’d given his word.
And he never went back on his word.
* * *
Blakely kicked off her pointy-toe flats and shut the bedroom door behind her before ditching the rest of her church clothes for workout pants and a T-shirt. Today was the first time she and Taryn would get a chance to test their new strategy for the fire hose fights. Hopefully, the technique would work as well in execution as it did in theory.
Cinching the drawstring on her sweats, Blakely groaned. Near as she could tell, Austin still didn’t suspect Trent was his father. Though he did think the man was the best thing since video games. And she had to admit, she enjoyed their time together, too. Watching Austin share what he considered her greatest assets.
She flopped back onto the full-size bed and stared at the silver faux-finished ceiling. For the shortest of moments today, they’d seemed like a real family.
Allowing her mind to linger on that life-changing summer, she pushed herself upright and went to her closet. She moved clothes out of the way, digging until she found a plain cardboard box. Her heart thudded as she set the box on the plum-colored comforter. After a long moment, she pulled opened the flaps.
She smiled as she set aside Austin’s baby book, his first pair of hiking boots and the outfit he wore home from the hospital. Then she saw it. The small box buried at the bottom.
With a deep breath, she reached for it, her pulse racing. She laid it in the palm of her hand, carefully, as if it were a bomb that might detonate at any second. Finally, she lifted the hinged lid and stared at the set of artist brushes.
A card with white tulips, her favorite flower, lay on top. She opened it and read.
Dear Blakely. These aren’t as romantic as diamonds or pearls, but the sentiment is still the same. I hope you’ll think of me every time you use them, until we can be together again.
Love, Trent.
She
returned the card to the box, allowing her fingertips to linger over the soft bristles. Knowing Trent had spent his hard-earned money—money that was supposed to go toward college—warmed her heart, the same way it had the day he’d given them to her.
She’d used them once.
Her gaze fell back to the larger box. Tucked against one side was a small, square canvas. She reached for it, then hesitated. With a bolstering breath, she latched on to the oil painting and turned it around.
Root beer eyes smiled at her under deep brown curls. She’d painted the picture of Trent from memory after he left for Albuquerque that dreadful September day. Each brushstroke seemed to help her deal with the heartache of saying goodbye.
She tossed the brushes and the canvas back inside the box. What if things had been different? What if Trent had married her? Would every day be as delightful as today?
Tears pooled in her eyes. She blinked, and they spilled down her cheeks. Using her sleeves, she dabbed them away. No more tears. Hadn’t that been her promise all those years ago?
No one could change their past. She could only look toward the future. No matter how unsteady it seemed.
* * *
By the time Blakely met Taryn at Rotary Park, her mood was on the upswing. All winter long they had strategized about how they needed to work as a unit. Today, those ideas proved successful. Now they watched, satisfied with their trial run, as the fire hose was recoiled onto the truck.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for that chocolate I promised.” Taryn retrieved two bottles of water and two one-pound bags of M&M’s from the front seat of her silver Jeep Rubicon. “I couldn’t decide what kind of mood I’d be in, so I brought both plain and peanut.”
Blakely followed her to a nearby picnic table as the fire engine rumbled away. “I’m happy with either one.”
“Good.” Her friend tore open the yellow bag. “Right now, I’m feeling a little nutty.”
Blakely accepted a handful of the colorful candies. “Probably because you are.”
The Doctor's Family Reunion Page 5
