The Doctor's Family Reunion

by Mindy Obenhaus

  Turning, he couldn’t help smiling at Blakely. “How so?”

  “There were some pretty large operations in the area. Camp Bird, for instance.” She pointed in the distance. “They had a huge stamping mill that ran 24/7. All that noise reverberated through the canyons right down into town.”

  “I never thought about that before, but I guess you’re right.” He tried to imagine what life must have been like for the miners. People from all walks of life, hoping to strike it rich, had endured hardships way beyond his urban comprehension. “I might have to check out the Ouray Museum.”

  “Lunch is ready, if you guys are hungry.” She nodded in the direction of the Jeep.

  “Good. I’m starving.” As if someone had flipped a switch, Austin took off.

  Blakely laughed, a sound Trent would never tire of hearing. “Growing boys.”

  “Has he always been this curious?”

  “Oh, yeah. There’s not a lot that gets past him.” Her sweet smile filled him with gratitude.

  He reached for her hand. Tugged her close. “Thank you, Blakely, for making my first Father’s Day one I’ll always remember.”

  To his surprise, her slender fingers closed around his. She met his gaze.

  Easy. Natural.

  He studied the curve of her face, her delicate nose, her sweet lips.

  Inching closer, he lowered his head and kissed her gently. She tasted of strawberries and cream.

  When she didn’t resist, he wound his free arm around her waist, pulled her against him.

  Her featherlight touch trailed over his shoulders, up his neck, caressed his hair. Her heart pounded against him, keeping rhythm with his own.

  Hope sprang forth within him. She was everything he’d ever wanted. Home. Hearth. Family. Love.

  Her body stiffened. She took a giant step back, her breathing ragged. The past and the present warred behind those blue eyes. The undeniable attraction that lay between them.

  “We’d best get back.”

  * * *

  Blakely paused for a breather, taking in the majestic view of the Amphitheater from Portland Trail. She hoped the hike might help clear her mind, but thoughts of Trent’s kiss were still as fresh as the moment it happened—two days ago.

  Seemed like her head and heart were in a constant battle. When she was with Trent, it all seemed so right. But away from him, her common sense presented some strong evidence to the contrary.

  “If Ross Chapman knows what’s good for him, he’d better stay away.” Taryn uncapped her water bottle and took a drink. “Otherwise he’ll have to deal with me”

  Blakely almost spewed her water. “Since when did you become my protector?”

  “Hey, we’re in this together, chickie.”

  A grosbeak flitted from one pine branch to the next, its song welcoming the new day.

  “And I’m sure Ross will be shaking in his boots.”

  “Well, he should.” Taryn clipped her bottle onto the carabiner hanging from her belt and began their descent. “So how was your outing with Trent?”

  “He kissed me.” Something she wouldn’t mind repeating.

  “Whoa-ho-ho, Blakes. Did you kiss him back?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Sounds like everybody’s on the same page.” Her friend dodged around a cedar. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem, if you would be so kind as to let me speak, is I liked them eleven years ago, too. You remember, right before he ripped the heart out of my chest and tossed it off Mt. Sneffels.”

  “Blakely, Blakely, Blakely.” Taryn shook her head. “Do you recall our old buddy, King David?”

  Gravel crunched underfoot as they ventured a steep slope.

  “Sure. He was a man after God’s own heart.”

  “And how many times did he mess up?”

  “Let’s see.... Adulterer, murderer—”

  “Exactly! And when he repented of his sins, God forgave him.”

  She eyed her friend, the wind rustling through the trees. “I know where you’re going with this.”

  “Did Trent have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ all those years ago?”

  She shook her head.

  “But he does now, right?”

  From what she’d seen, he was just the kind of godly man she’d always wanted.

  She kicked at a rock. “I guess.”

  “Blakes, what happens when we ask God to forgive our sins?”

  “He throws them as far as the east is from the west.”

  Taryn stopped and Blakely almost ran into her. “If God forgave Trent, who are you not to?”

  “Even if I forgive him, that doesn’t mean I want a relationship with him. Too much water under the bridge.” At least that was the argument her head presented.

  “Blakes...” She laid a hand on Blakely’s arm. “I’m afraid you haven’t even made it to the bridge. Fear has you stuck upstream, clinging to the past. A past that’s preventing you from looking at the possibility of a future. With Trent or anyone else.”

  Ouch!

  She moved around Taryn to continue her trek. “You do realize this is starting to turn into a love/hate relationship.”

  “I know.” Taryn plodded along behind her. “You love me, but you hate my advice because it steps all over those pretty little pink-painted toes of yours?”

  “Ah, the lady is smarter than she looks.”

  Taryn nudged her from behind.

  Rounding onto a nice straightaway, Blakely said, “Race you to the finish.”

  With any luck, the distraction would derail the conversation. She moved as quickly as the terrain would allow, whisking past brush and small boulders, her steps almost silent against a carpet of pine needles.

  Her side ached. Sweat trailed down her back. She slowed her pace to a walk.

  Taryn matched her steps, her breathing as labored as Blakely’s. “I know. You want me. To drop this. And I will. Just as soon...as I have my say.” She stopped Blakely with a hand to her shoulder. Drew in a deep breath. “I can’t help feeling...that God’s up to something here.”

  Blakely had entertained that very thought on more than one occasion. But if God was at work, why wasn’t He letting her know?

  Maybe you’re so busy waging your own battles, you forgot to check in with Him.

  “All I’m saying is keep an open mind, Blakes. Or, as your grandmother says, you just might miss a blessing.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Hi, Mr. Davis. This is Blakely Daniels with Adventures in Pink, in Ouray.” Reaching across the front desk, she grabbed her calendar. “Hey, I wanted to let you know that I’ve mailed your contract for this year’s tour and—”

  “I’m sorry, young lady. We’ve decided to go with Mountain View Tours this year.”

  “Oh.” She blinked, her heart lodging somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. The Active Life Seniors group out of Grand Junction had been coming to them for the past seven years. She’d just assumed...

  “A fellow contacted us last month with a deal that was too good for folks on a fixed income to turn down.”

  She knew exactly who that fellow was. “You know, Mountain View Tours doesn’t offer the customized tours Active Life Seniors enjoy with Adventures in Pink—”

  “We’ve already signed the contract.”

  She had to dig deep for an air of professionalism to hide her disappointment. “I see. Well, then you can disregard our contract. We thank you for your business and hope we can serve you again in the future.”

  Hanging up the phone, she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Sucker punched by Ross Chapman.

  She slumped back in
her chair. This was her fault. She should have contacted the seniors group sooner instead of shoving them to the back burner while she tried to juggle everything else.

  She’d even figured the income into her budget. Stupid. Now she’d have to find a way to make it up.

  Maybe Ross was right. What did she know about running a business?

  Turning to the computer at the front desk, she palmed the mouse and glanced out the window. This morning’s tour to Yankee Boy was back and the six smiling faces soothed her wounded pride.

  The youngest of the three couples ambled up the street, hand in hand, while the other two headed inside ahead of their guide. Blakely went to meet them.

  “How was your tour?” She addressed them corporately, remembering the two men and two women were traveling together.

  “Incredible!” Mrs. Barkus’s once neatly coifed hair now sported a windblown look. “No wonder they call Ouray the Switzerland of America.”

  “That’s for sure,” added her always-smiling husband. “This place is amazing. This town is amazing.”

  “We like to think so.”

  Mrs. Hillard leaned against the counter. “We’d never even heard of it until we pulled in yesterday.”

  Her husband, a bald man with a British accent, nodded. “That’s right. But it didn’t take long to realize we’d found something special.”

  “We like to hear that.” Blakely plucked a visitor’s guide from the stack on the counter. “If you have a chance you should stop by the museum or take a walking tour around town.” She flipped to the page that showed all of the homes on the tour. “Did you know that two thirds of Ouray’s original Victorian structures are still in use?”

  Mrs. Barkus eyed the descriptions of more than two dozen homes. “Oh, let’s do that after lunch.”

  “Count me in.” Mrs. Hillard pointed to a picture of the Western Hotel. “That’s right next door, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. And it’s definitely a must-see.”

  “Now before you women get ahead of yourselves,” said Mr. Hillard, “don’t forget we wanted to book a full-day tour for tomorrow.”

  Blakely sent her new guide an appreciative smile. “Well then, let’s get you set up.” She shared the available options with the group, knowing a couple of the passes were still closed.

  “Ghost towns?” Mr. Barkus quirked a brow.

  “It’s one of our most popular tours. You’ll see the Red Mountain Mining District and Animas Forks, along with some of the most stunning views in the area.”

  “Not to mention lunch in Silverton,” her guide added.

  “Can we get Rodney as our driver again?” Mrs. Hillard glanced at her guide.

  Ah, the new guy was already getting requests. A good sign.

  “I believe we can work that out.”

  She sent up a prayer of thanksgiving as the quartet filed out of the office in search of some lunch. God would provide.

  “Speaking of lunch...” Rodney tucked his clipboard in the wall rack. A teacher at the high school, he decided he might as well get paid for what he did all summer anyway. “I think I’ll grab some, too. Would you like me to bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m good. But thanks.” Returning to the computer, she tapped the space bar to bring up the screen. Nothing but black.

  “We’ll see you in a few, then.”

  “Uh-huh.” Trying to temper her frustration, she wiggled the mouse. Clicked. Double clicked. Still nothing.

  Cantankerous thing must have frozen again.

  Reaching under the counter, she pushed the button on the system unit to shut it down, then rebooted it as the door to the garage opened.

  Still black. Only this time a series of skulls with crossbones dotted the screen. A wave of panic rolled over her.

  “That can’t be good.” Dan sidled beside her.

  “How can this be? I just updated our security stuff.”

  Dan raised his hands in the air. “Hey, I know nothing about computers, so don’t ask me.”

  “What am I supposed to do without my computer? And all my files?”

  “Don’t you back it up?”

  “Yes, but...” Grabbing her phone, she did an internet search for viruses. “It says I need to install anti-malware.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  That meant a trip to Montrose and who knows how many hours to get things up and running normally again. She did not want to deal with this now.

  “Do you think Lisa would be willing to come in for an hour or so while I run to the store?”

  “Probably. So long as you don’t mind Alyssa tagging along.”

  “Of course not.” She picked up the phone, but he pulled it from her hand.

  “Just go.”

  * * *

  Since kissing Blakely that day on the mountain, Trent found himself thinking about her more and more. About the three of them. Together. As a family.

  But how could he even think about forging a relationship with Blakely when he wasn’t being completely honest with her?

  Pulling into a parking spot in front of Adventures in Pink, he saw she was still inside. He had to tell her.

  He exited his truck, continued up the front steps and opened the door. “You’re here awfully late.”

  Blakely’s dejected gaze slid from the computer screen.

  “Uh-oh. What’s—” Before he could ask, she burst into tears.

  “Blakely?” He kept his voice gentle as he moved around the desk. If this had anything to do with Ross Chapman...

  She buried her face in her hands as he came alongside her. “I’m no good at this.” She sobbed. “Granddad was wrong. I can’t run this place.”

  He wanted to take her into his arms and erase any trace of whatever it was that had her so upset. “Now, what makes you say that?” He settled for caressing her back, her hair.

  “This is the worst day ever.” Through her weeping, she listed the problems she encountered. “None of this stuff ever happened when Granddad was here.”

  “Probably because he had you here to help him.”

  “Some help. More like destroyer.”

  He urged her hands from her face. Her cheeks were red, splotchy. But she still looked beautiful to him.

  He handed her a couple tissues from the box on the counter. “Do you mind if I flip the closed sign? Shut the door?”

  “Go ahead. I wouldn’t—” she hiccupped “—want customers seeing me like this anyway.”

  When he returned, he pulled a stool alongside her and took hold of her hands, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles. Anything that might comfort her. “Blakely, from what your grandmother has told me, you and Bill were a pretty good team. Your marketing ideas breathed life into a sleepy little business. You encouraged him as much as he encouraged you.”

  She bit her quivering bottom lip.

  “But the team’s been cut to one player.” He touched her cheek. “So you need to cut yourself a little slack.”

  “But Granddad did it all by himself.” She sniffed.

  “Over the course of thirty-five years. How long have you been running things? Six, seven months?”

  “Eight.”

  He threw both hands in the air. “Oh, well. My mistake. You should have things down by now, then.”

  Her laughter was like the sweetest music he’d ever heard.

  “We all have our strengths, Blakely. Your knowledge of and passion for these mountains run deep.”

  She shredded one of the tissues into her lap. “But it takes me two days to do payroll. And I have less than ten employees.”

  “Then maybe you should consider hiring someone to do those things you’re not so adept at, allowing you to concentrate on the things you are.”


  “I don’t know if I can afford another employee.”

  Ross’s claim that she was losing business popped into his brain.

  “You’d only need somebody part-time. Maybe a couple days a week.” He tipped his head to look at her. “And by freeing yourself to focus on those things you are good at, your bottom line should improve.”

  She looked up at him, her gaze warm, tender...trusting.

  “In the meantime, if you need some help or a tutorial, I happen to be good with numbers. Not to mention a whiz at spreadsheets.”

  “But you’re a doctor.” She sat up straight, stretched.

  “Yes, but I love numbers, too. If I hadn’t wanted to be a doctor so badly, I probably would have been an accountant.”

  “I don’t think I ever knew that about you.” She stood and crossed to the snack bar. “Care for one?” She held up a bottle of water.

  “Sure.” He met her halfway. “Have you eaten?”

  “No. And I’m starving.”

  “Now you sound like Austin.” He grinned. “What do you say I order us up a ham, pineapple and black olive pizza? I’ll buy, you fly.”

  She gestured to the computer. “But what about—”

  “I’ll take care of the computer. You need a break.”

  “Thank you.” She toyed with the label on the bottle. “You know, I’m not usually a crier. And here you’ve had to put up with my blubbering twice.”

  Using his finger, he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Guess that makes me special, then.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. Not the upset splotches like before, but an irresistible blush. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the kitchen of the community center, Blakely yawned and added ten more pancakes to the warming tray. “You know, Taryn, I wouldn’t flip pancakes at 6:00 a.m. for just anyone.” No matter how incredible they smelled.

  “But you do it so well.” Her friend hovered over the worktable, pouring syrup from a commercial-size container into smaller glass dispensers.

  “This coming from the baker extraordinaire? You could probably handle this fund-raiser with one hand tied behind your back.”