The Doctor's Family Reunion

by Mindy Obenhaus

  “You are in so much trouble, mister.”

  “Promises, promises.” The playful edge to his voice made her heart stutter.

  But warning sirens blared in her head. Retreat! Retreat!

  Turning her attention to Taryn, Austin and his stunned friends, she said, “All right, gang. About twenty minutes and it’ll be time for pizza.”

  “Yay!” They cheered in unison.

  Then, without acknowledging Trent, she exited the pool.

  By the time she’d changed clothes and made it back to the picnic area, Trent was waiting beside Gran, dressed and holding a bouquet of flowers.

  A peace offering, no doubt. How he’d managed to come up with them on such short notice was puzzling to say the least.

  Refusing to look at him, Blakely snatched the tote bag and pulled out the papergoods.

  “I am so sorry, Blakely.” He stood behind her now. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Don’t worry. It was all in fun.”

  “I know, but I was out of line back there. I set a bad example for those kids.”

  Nodding, Blakely set a basketball-themed plate and napkin at each place. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

  At the end of the table, Gran looked appalled, but Blakely knew better. “Young man, just exactly what did you do?”

  He shifted back and forth. “Ma’am. I, uh, well, I dunked your granddaughter.”

  Blakely whirled. “Dunked? That was way more than a dunking. You tossed me halfway across the pool.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that far.”

  Gran feigned indignation, pressing a hand to her chest. “Of all times—” her expression softened “—times for me to be without a camera.” The old gal chuckled. “Trent, you should see the look on your face.”

  Blakely burst into laughter. “Gotcha!”

  Grinning, he raked a hand through his hair. “Okay. I deserved that.” Then, as though he suddenly remembered the flowers, he held them out. “These are for you.”

  Accepting the tissue-wrapped package, she inhaled the fragrance of white tulips and bright pink roses. “What are these for?”

  “Well...” His nervousness was endearing. “It may be Austin’s birthday, but he wouldn’t be here without you. You did all the work. Thank you.”

  Another piece of her wall crumbled. “They’re beautiful.” Cradling the bouquet against her chest, she turned and rapidly blinked away the moisture threatening to disarm her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so sweet. So...romantic.

  No, red roses were romance. Pink...?

  These roses were the exact shade of her Jeeps. And the white tulips...

  He remembered.

  She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I wish I had something to put them in.”

  He stared at her with that lopsided smile that used to send her over the moon.

  Gran admired the bouquet. “They’ll be fine until we get home.”

  “Is the pizza ready?”

  How long had Austin been there?

  “Pizza?” She handed Gran the flowers. “Yes. I was just going to get them.”

  Behind the kids, Taryn grinned at Blakely. Add this to the list of things they’d be talking about later.

  “Taryn, would you mind adding a goodie bag to each place setting?”

  “Sure thing.”

  With Trent at her side, Blakely hurried in the direction of the Snack Shack. She was used to taking care of things by herself, so his presence had her on edge. Or maybe it was his actions. So much like the heroes in all those romance novels she read.

  But this is real life. She’d been burned before. Enough to know not to play with fire.

  “What happened to your guide?”

  She’d hoped he hadn’t heard Mary. But, of course, he had. He was right there with her.

  Dodging two preschool boys enjoying a hearty game of chase around the twisting slide, she pondered her response.

  “One of my guides.” Her best one. “He quit.”

  “And went to work for Ross, I gather.”

  She quietly nodded, not wanting her annoyance to resurface.

  “Does that put you in a bind?”

  They rounded the corner of the Snack Shack. “Maybe. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “Hey there, Blakely.”

  “Tiffany.” She leaned against the wood counter. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You home for the summer?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Austin will be happy to see you.” Prior to leaving for college, Tiffany had been his favorite babysitter.

  “Is he enjoying his party?”

  “Oh, you know him. He’s got his friends, the water...what more could a little guy ask for? Except maybe pizza. Are they ready?”

  Tiffany glanced toward the kitchen. “Almost.” Turning back, she looked past Blakely. “May I help you?”

  “I’m with her.” Trent pointed a thumb in Blakely’s direction.

  She hesitated. An introduction was in order, but the words stuck in her throat.

  “Here you go.” A teenage boy saved her by dropping four large pizza boxes on the counter. “Hot and ready to go.”

  Tiffany rang up the amount, and Trent stepped forward, his wallet in hand. “May I?”

  Blakely liked that he asked. “Be my guest.”

  She saw the way Tiffany watched them. The way her questioning gaze studied Trent.

  Oh, yeah. Blakely was going to be making lots and lots of introductions.

  * * *

  Over his thirty years, Trent had learned that the greatest joy often came from the simplest things. Like singing “Happy Birthday” to his son for the first time in his life.

  With a belly full of pizza and fudge marble cake, Trent hovered near the picnic table and watched Austin open his presents, silently praising God for the gift he’d been given. He appreciated the fact that, no matter how big or small, the boy acted as though each gift was his favorite, something to be treasured.

  When the toys had all been unwrapped, Trent took a small, rectangular package from his shirt pocket and handed it to his son.

  “Thanks.” Austin didn’t attack the gift with the same gusto as the others. Instead, he carefully tore off the red wrapping, as though he suspected something precious lay within.

  Trent hoped he didn’t let him down. He’d had the hardest time deciding what to get. Nothing felt right. He prayed Austin would like it. Maybe he should have gone for one of the toys Blakely mentioned.

  With the paper gone, Austin lifted the lid. “A pocket knife! All right!”

  “It, uh...” Trent cleared his throat. “It was my father’s.” The pearl-handled knife was the only remnant he had of his father. After all the foster homes Trent had been in, it was amazing he still had it.

  He could hear the awe in the kid’s voices.

  “Cool,” one said.

  “That must be an antique,” another added. Even Blakely laughed at that one.

  Moving to the other side of the table where she stood, Trent leaned toward her, hands shoved in his pockets. “I hope you don’t mind. But, if you’re worried, I’ll tell him it’s for display only.”

  “That knife was your most cherished possession.” Compassion swam in those blue eyes.

  “It was. But Austin means far more.”

  She gazed up at him, a delicate smile playing on her full lips. “You did great.”

  The approval in her voice was balm to his wounded heart. He hoped for that same approval when she learned he was leaving.

  He had to tell her tonight.

  * * *

  The rosy-red light of the alpenglow had settled over the Amphitheater by the time parents arriv
ed to collect their children. To Trent’s surprise, Blakely introduced him to each one. Something he knew didn’t come easy, which made him appreciate her all the more.

  By the time the last child left, Taryn had everything gathered and ready to go. Trent grabbed what he could carry and still offered his arm to Rose. The old gal appeared to have run out of steam, sitting at the picnic table, looking dazed. He wouldn’t have thought the event too much for her, but maybe he’d misjudged.

  “Can I help you to the car?” He offered his free hand.

  “Thank you, Trent.” The old woman’s grip seemed unusually weak as she struggled to stand.

  Pulling her toward him, he hooked her arm through his. “Are you feeling okay, Mrs. D?”

  Blakely’s pointed glance told him she’d heard his question.

  She handed Austin a laundry basket mounded with his gifts. “Why don’t you escort Miss Taryn to her car?”

  “Okay. Can I ride home with Dad?”

  “Fine by me,” Trent offered, wanting the opportunity to not only observe Rose, but talk with Blakely.

  The birthday boy trotted away with Taryn, chattering about his totally awesome cake.

  “Everything okay?” Blakely took hold of her grandmother’s other arm.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Rose shuffled along the path as though her legs were weighted. “I feel so...woozy.”

  Blakely’s worried gaze found his, silently pleading for him to do something. And although he doubted it was anything serious, he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Let’s get her home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Blakely refused to entertain the thought of losing another loved one. Yet there it was.

  Not now. Please, not now.

  After situating her grandmother into the Jeep, Trent caught Blakely by the arm. “Was she having any problems earlier?”

  “No.” Panic swirled in her gut. She tried to temper it, but to no avail. “This isn’t like her at all. Should I take her to the hospital?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. My medical bag is in the car. I’ll have a look at her once we get to the house.” Taking her hand in his, he softened his expression. “It could have been something she ate.”

  If he hadn’t been here, Blakely was sure she’d be in a heap on the ground about now. Her gratitude morphed into a sad smile. “I appreciate that.”

  By the time they returned to the motel, Gran’s fair skin was paler than normal and she found it difficult to stand as Trent helped her out of the Jeep.

  Blakely helped him settle the older woman on the sofa. Per Trent’s instruction, Austin was quick to intercept the dogs and put them outside.

  “Thank you, sweetie.” Blakely caressed his back, trying to keep a calm face.

  “Is Gran gonna be okay?” Though Austin had been at school when Granddad had his heart attack, the fallout had still been hard on him.

  She stroked his soft curls. “Don’t you worry. Trent will take good care of her.” Of that, she was sure.

  Trent glanced up at her. “Does she take any medication?”

  “Yes—for high blood pressure.”

  “Anything else?”

  Arms wrapped around herself, she shook her head, gaze riveted to her grandmother.

  Trent opened his backpack and pulled out a stethoscope. Calm. Cool.

  “Mrs. D, I’m going to do a quick examination. Make sure everything is all right.”

  She nodded, her lips almost white.

  He ripped open the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around Gran’s arm. Setting the stethoscope in the crook of her elbow, he squeezed the bulb until the Velcro crackled in protest.

  His brow furrowed. “You say she’s being treated for high blood pressure?”

  “Yes.” Blakely didn’t want to feel the fear coursing through her. “Why?”

  Ripping the Velcro apart, he removed the cuff. “Her blood pressure’s a bit low. Nothing alarming, though.”

  “What could cause that? I mean, is that what’s making her feel bad?” She needed to calm down before Austin picked up on her growing concern. But calm didn’t come naturally in situations like this. Not when she’d already lost most everyone she’d ever loved.

  “Mrs. D? When did you last take your blood pressure medication?”

  Her grandmother kept her eyes closed. “At the party. Before we ate.”

  Blakely scrolled through her mental files. That wasn’t right. “No, Gran. You took it before we left the house. Don’t you remember?”

  Trent turned his attention to Blakely. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I watched her take it about thirty minutes before we left.”

  “Mrs. D, could you have taken your medication twice?”

  “I...don’t know.” She sounded so weak. “I took it at the park with a sip of the kids’ soda pop.”

  “So she took it twice?” Blakely felt the color leach from her face. Why hadn’t she monitored her grandmother more closely? “Is that bad?”

  “Drops the blood pressure lower than normal. Like I said, not alarming, but it can definitely make one feel out of sorts.” He placed a finger on Gran’s wrist, checking her pulse. “Blakely, would you bring me something with caffeine, please? Coffee or tea.”

  “What? How can you think of drinks at a time like this?” Some bedside manner.

  Trent glanced up at her. “Your grandmother needs a mild stimulant.”

  “Oh.” Blakely’s cheeks grew hotter by the nanosecond. “Will that bring her blood pressure back up?”

  “That and some rest. Yes.”

  Austin tilted his head to look at Blakely. “So, Gran’s gonna be okay?”

  “By tomorrow she should be good as new,” said Trent.

  Her boy plucked the hunter-green afghan from the loveseat and covered his grandmother’s legs. “You hear that, Gran? Dad’s gonna get you all fixed up.”

  Relief spilled through Blakely as she went into the kitchen to make some of Gran’s favorite tea. Thank You, Lord. Thank You.

  With trembling hands, she filled a mug with water and added a tea bag. Water slopped over the sides as she aimed for the microwave.

  “Looks like you could use a little help yourself.” Smiling, Trent took the cup from her, the slight touch of his fingers sending a tingling sensation up her arm and straight to her heart. He put the cup inside the microwave, punched the buttons, then stood in front of her. “You’re pretty shaken.”

  She dodged around him, grabbed the rag from the sink and wiped up the water she’d spilled. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She knew she shouldn’t have looked at him, but she did anyway. The tenderness in those deep brown eyes made her want to throw herself into his arms and absorb his strength.

  If that wouldn’t scream desperate, she didn’t know what would.

  “Okay, so I was a little rattled.”

  “A little?”

  “All right, a lot.” She laid the rag beside the sink and took a deep, calming breath. “Thank you for being here. For being—”

  “A doctor.”

  Actually, she was going to say wonderful, but his response was safer.

  She let out a soft laugh. “Yes, thank you for being a doctor.”

  The microwave beeped and Trent grabbed the hot mug. “Why don’t I carry this?”

  As he left the room, Blakely wondered what she would have done if he hadn’t been here. Seemed the more he was around, the more she wanted him around. But that meant putting her heart on the line. And that’s what scared her most.

  * * *

  Trent could hardly wait to spend another evening with his son. He looked forward to each and every moment with Austin, tucking away th
e memories, praying that they would sustain him when he went back to Albuquerque.

  Walking the streets of Ouray Thursday evening, they could hear the music long before they made it to Fellin Park. When they did, it was obvious the festival was in full swing. People scattered across the lawn on blankets and lawn chairs. Some even danced in front of the stage as a country-rock band belted out their rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  With his boy at his side, Trent trekked across the grass, the aromas from numerous food vendors making his mouth water.

  He leaned toward Austin. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He ruffled the kid’s hair. “That’s what you always say.”

  His boy shrugged. “’Cause it’s always true.”

  Trent chuckled. That growth spurt should be kicking in anytime.

  “Look. There’s Mom.” Austin pointed to a grouping of tents off to one side.

  Clad in an Adventures in Pink T-shirt, a smiling Blakely offered up hamburgers alongside her friend Taryn.

  Trent’s conscience nudged him. He’d planned to tell her the truth the other night. Then Rose took ill and his plans evaporated.

  Thankfully, she was back to her old chipper self by the next morning. Still... It seemed whenever he made plans to come clean, God put something in his path to stop him. He guessed he’d just have to be patient and wait for the right time.

  Not that he expected Blakely to have a problem with his departure. But his desire to have Austin spend holidays and summers with him in New Mexico would likely send her into a tizzy.

  “Come on, Dad. Let’s get something to eat.” Austin took off through the small sea of people.

  Trent followed. That is, until Ross Chapman stopped him. Held out his hand.

  “Evening, Dr. Lockridge.”

  “Ross.” Trent accepted the gesture, his gaze still trained on his son.

  “Looks like that young fellow’s in a mighty big hurry.”

  “Yeah, there’s not much that stands between a growing boy and his food.”

  Hands on his hips, Ross shifted his focus back to Trent. “So where’s his mother?”