Читать книгу The Doctor's Family Reunion - Mindy Obenhaus - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Trent stepped outside his room at the San Juan Inn, the cool morning breeze making him shudder. Or maybe it was thoughts of the woman he’d run into on Camp Bird Road yesterday. The scorn in her eyes.

How could he have a child and not know it?

Unfortunately, Dan arrived back on the scene before Trent could get the answer to that question and so many more. But now, finding answers was at the top of his agenda.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans and wandered down Sixth Avenue. Nestled in a bowl of thirteen-thousand-foot peaks, Ouray waited in the shadows for the sun to top the Amphitheater. The unique setting of this tiny town captured his heart that long ago summer. Along with a certain strawberry blonde.

By the time August drew to a close, he had entertained thoughts of forever. Never imagining what awaited him back in Albuquerque.

He let go a sigh, his breath visible in the chilly morning air. God may have forgiven him, but sometimes the past crept in, reminding him what a lowly creature he’d once been.

Though You have made me see troubles, many and bitter, You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, You will again bring me up.

The verse from Psalm seventy-one had seen Trent through some of his rockiest days. Both before and after Lauren’s death.

Growling echoed from his midsection. Perhaps some breakfast would improve his perspective. Not to mention a good cup of coffee. That weak stuff they served at the motel wasn’t close to cutting it. Too bad Ouray didn’t have a Starbucks.

Warmth bathed his back as the sun peered over the mountain behind him. He’d never tire of this scenery. The peace and tranquility it offered were what he longed for when he learned of the temporary opening in Ridgway.

He glanced at the Community Center where he’d once had the privilege of escorting Blakely to a dance. Sure, they’d been young—Blakely fresh out of high school—but the bond they’d forged that summer went beyond special. They “got” each other in a way no one ever had. Soul mates. Kindred spirits. With her, he’d felt accepted for the first time. Even loved. And he’d loved her, too.

So why hadn’t she told him he had a child? More important, why did she seem to think he did know?

Raking his fingers through his hair, he prayed she and their son could one day forgive him.

At the corner of Main Street, he waited for a large motor home to lumber past. Once the exhaust dissipated, the most amazing aroma captivated his senses. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of roasting coffee beans. Lifting his gaze, he spotted what was sure to be his favorite new spot: Mouse’s Chocolates & Coffee.

Maybe he wouldn’t pine for Starbucks after all.

He hurried across the street.

“What can I get you?” A bubbly blonde, barely old enough to be out of high school, smiled behind the counter.

After eyeing the menu, he said, “How about a tall Americano?”

“We only have one size, sir. Sixteen ounces.”

“That’ll work.”

Cup in hand, he paused at the corner. Less than a block away, the vacancy sign at The Alps Motel glowed red-orange. Apprehension kept his feet glued to the sidewalk. Were Blakely and his son there? Or did they live in one of the apartments over The Jeep Company—make that Adventures in Pink?

He wanted—needed—answers.

“Trent?”

Turning, he found Blakely’s grandmother, Rose Daniels, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help smiling back. The woman who’d provided him with many a meal that summer and more cookies than he’d had in all the years since had always held a special place in his heart.

“I was hoping I might run into you.” Sincerity sparkled in her blue eyes. “Blakely mentioned you were back in town.”

That must have been an interesting conversation.

“It’s great to see you, Mrs. D.” A motorcycle sputtered past, its engine mimicking the chug-chug of his heart.

“I hear you’re working in Ridgway?”

“At the medical clinic. Yes.”

“Wonderful.” A wisp of white hair escaped her tight bun to dance about her round face. “Bill would have been so happy to know that you achieved your dream of becoming a doctor.”

“I was sad to hear he’s no longer with us. He was probably the greatest man I ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Trent observed the rows of colorful Victorian buildings that lined Main Street. How he wished he could thank Bill for the impact he’d had on his life. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Someday.

“Would you like some help with those?” He gestured to the green reusable grocery sacks that dangled from Rose’s capable hands.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Trent.”

He gathered the trio of bags in one hand and started in the direction of The Alps, making sure to abbreviate each stride so Rose wouldn’t feel rushed.

“How long have you been back in Ouray?” She carefully maneuvered down the sloped sidewalk. No matter where you went in this town, you were either walking up or down hill.

“Since Sunday. I’m staying at the San Juan Inn.”

“What?” She sent him a sideways glance. “Not The Alps?”

“Uh...” The muscles in his jaw tightened. The Alps had been his first inclination.

She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m teasing. The San Juan Inn is a wonderful choice.”

Relaxing, he eyed the planters of red, white and purple flowers that graced the front stoop of the Daniels’ home. The picket fence surrounding the tiny yard added an old-world charm to the beige two-story that also housed the motel’s office.

Rose held open the gate, and he followed her to the door, his desire for answers getting the best of him.

“Tell me about my son.”

The old woman looked bewildered for a moment before a proud smile erupted. “Austin is a good boy. Kind, friendly, active.” She chuckled on the last word. “And he looks just like his father.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He glanced down at a small patch of grass, emotion clogging his throat.

“You will.”

“I promise, Mrs. D, I never knew. If I had...”

She laid a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Neither Bill nor I ever doubted you, Trent. We may not have understood, but we never stopped praying for you.”

He studied the woman in front of him, who, even now, after everything that had happened, made him feel loved. So confident. Wise. Caring.

Somehow, he had to make things right.

She reached for the doorknob, turned it, but the door refused to budge. “Oh, this silly thing.” She shoved one more time and it jerked open. “Bill had planned to put in a new one this winter.”

Only then did Trent notice the weather-worn wood on the bottom half of the door. “Well, I’m pretty handy. If you’re not in a big rush to get it fixed, I’d be happy to take care of that for you.”

“Only if you’ll let me pay you.”

“I won’t hear of it.” He handed her the bags. “However, you do make the best peanut butter cookies I’ve ever had.”

That earned him a grin.

“You can have all you want.”

“So is Blakely at Adventures in Pink?”

“Should be.”

He raised his coffee cup. “Wish me luck.”

“I’ll do you one better.” She winked. “I’ll pray.”

“Thank you. And I’ll be in touch about the door.”

He headed down the alley across the street then eased left at Seventh Avenue. Two bright pink four-wheel-drive pickups with three rows of bench seats were parked in front of the familiar blue building, just waiting to introduce visitors to all these mountains had to offer.

The long narrow bench where Trent had shared countless conversations with Blakely and her grandfather still stretched across the front of the building. Trent had lived in one of the upstairs apartments along with a couple of fellows he’d dubbed Chaos and Destruction. His escape from the madness had been this bench, taking in whatever bit of history or insight Bill chose to impart.

Now, his heart hammered against his ribs as he opened the door and stepped inside.

A mural of Twin Falls was the first to welcome him, followed by a tiny dog with a high-pitched bark.

“Jethro.”

The voice didn’t belong to Blakely, and Trent was surprised by the hint of disappointment that swept over him. He’d have expected relief.

Instead, a green-eyed brunette glared at the pup from behind the counter. “Don’t mind him. He’s all bark but no bite.”

“That’s okay.” Trent knelt, holding out his fist to allow the animal to sniff. “You were just saying hello, weren’t you?” He stroked the dog a couple of times then straightened, returning his focus to the painting. The attention to detail was so pronounced that he could almost hear the roaring waters and smell the Columbines and Indian Paintbrushes. And was that—he leaned closer—a marmot?

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He faced the thirty-something woman. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Our owner did that.” She leaned back in her chair. “She’s quite a talented lady.”

“Blakely.” He’d recognize her work anywhere. Work that seemed to have improved with age.

“That’s her.” She cocked her head. “Are you a friend?”

“I’d like to think so.” Even though Blakely might disagree. He approached the counter. “Is she here?”

“She’s out in the shop. I’d be happy to get her—”

The telephone rang.

“Excuse me.”

While the receptionist took the call, he roamed the selection of T-shirts, bumper stickers and other souvenirs near the front windows. What a great addition, as was the snack bar in the corner that boasted sodas, coffee and water. They’d really ramped up the old Jeep company.

The telephone conversation grew lengthy, and impatience got the best of Trent. After catching the brunette’s eye, he let himself out the back door.

An acrid odor assailed his nostrils the moment he stepped into the garage. The place had more rubber than a tire store. Wheels were stacked five high throughout the space, with more lining the walls overhead.

The whir of an impact wrench cut the air. Blakely was out here, all right. But where?

Two pink Jeep Wranglers and a large red tool chest later, he found her.

Squatting beside a third Jeep, Blakely’s movements were as adept as any pit crew member at the Indy 500. No sponsor-littered coveralls for her, though. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, pink, of course, with the company’s logo in white lettering. Her hair had been gathered into a ponytail that trailed down her back.

His fingers twitched. He’d always loved her hair, the feel, the smell. Not to mention those cute freckles.

Something cold and wet touched his hand then, interrupting his reverie.

He looked down to find a golden retriever smiling up at him, tongue lolling out one side of its mouth.

Instinctively, Trent stroked the animal’s head before returning his gaze to Blakely.

The noise stopped.

She pushed to her feet and moved toward a stack of tires, never noticing him.

He knew he should say something, let her know he was there. Instead, he just stared, still rubbing the dog’s ears. The woman before him was prettier than the girl he remembered. But it was what was on the inside that had drawn him to Blakely. Strength. Passion. Loyalty. How could he have been fool enough to let something like that go?

Because you messed up big-time, buddy.

Wincing at the memory, he watched Blakely hoist another tire.

“Those things look heavy. You should ask for help.”

She flinched but quickly recovered. “I’m pretty good at doing things myself.”

Double meaning inferred, he was certain.

He perused the damaged tour truck in the next bay. Studying the wreckage, he shivered. Thank You for watching over her, Lord.

“You always did love being up here with your grandfather.” He shortened the distance between them. “I’m not surprised he passed it to you.”

Mounting the tire onto the axle, she all but ignored him, her shoulders rigid.

He came alongside her then, the retriever still at his heels. “How’s the head?”

“Don’t tell me you’re here for a house call.”

“No. Just curious.” He gathered a bolstering breath. “I’d like to talk to you about my son.”

Latching on to the hose that dangled from a reel overhead, she fired up the noisy power tool again, making conversation impossible.

Before he could figure out his next move, a young boy appeared through one of the open garage doors.

Trent’s heart pounded when he saw the shock of dark hair that curled over the boy’s ears and brow. His eyes were the color of coffee, just like Trent’s.

He recalled how Blakely used to tell him his eyes were root beer colored and wondered if she did the same with Austin.

The boy was small for his age, but he’d grow out of it. For years, Trent had been the shortest one in his class. Then, almost overnight, he’d hit his growth spurt and surpassed them all.

The noise stopped when Austin touched Blakely’s shoulder.

“Can I go to Zach’s house?”

Standing, Blakely sent Trent a warning glance before turning her attention to her son. “Did you finish your chores?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled, eyeing the basketball in his hand. “I take it you two are planning to shoot some hoops?”

“Yeah.”

Trent watched the exchange in amazement. The boy shared his mother’s smile. They obviously had a good relationship. And Trent liked that Austin had respect and manners. Back in Albuquerque, he’d encountered kids Austin’s age who thought they could say or do anything they pleased without any concern for others.

“Will you be home for lunch?” she asked.

Austin was already out the door. “Yeah. Zach and his parents are going to Montrose at noon.”

“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.