The Doctor's Family Reunion. Mindy Obenhaus
gaze darted throughout the cab of her tour vehicle, her breath ragged. Three tons of metal groaned around her, protesting against the copse of aspens that had stopped their free fall. The splintered windshield resembled a complex spider web and the indented driver’s door pressed against her leg.
Head throbbing, Blakely squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get her bearings. She’d been driving these mountain roads since she was a teenager. Yet here she sat—rather, hung—who knows how far below the cliff’s edge, her pickup in ruins.
How could she have made such a dangerous miscalculation? Praise God she was alone. She didn’t even want to think about the outcome if she’d had a truckload of guests.
A pungent odor touched her nostrils. Her eyes flew open.
Gasoline.
She had to get out of here.
Now.
Thanks to the seatbelt’s taut hold, she dangled precariously. Her ponytail swayed in front of her like the pendulum of the clock in Gran’s living room. Traffic on these old mine roads this time of year was few and far between. So unless someone happened along...
God, I really need Your help. I know You already know that, but if You could please show me what to do.
Slipping a thumb under the satiny webbed fabric that held her captive, she moved her hand upward until she reached the harness. Her grip tightened as she wiggled, willing her back against the seat, trying to make herself as small as possible. Then, bracing one hand against the roof, she fingered the red button.
One. Two.
Oof!
Pushing up on all fours, she crawled across the soft gray fabric that lined the top of the cab and took hold of the latch on the passenger door. Because the truck rested on an incline, opening the door vertically would take all the effort she could muster. Pulling on the handle, she pushed with her shoulder but the door refused to budge.
She peered through the window. The sight of crumpled metal made her heart sink. She could only pray the damage wouldn’t impede the window’s descent. If so, she’d have to break the glass.
With the odor of gas growing stronger by the second, she hit the switch and the window disappeared into the door.
Thank You, Lord.
Blakely pushed through the opening.
Grasping at roots and spindly limbs, she clawed her way back up the steep slope. Cold mud seeped through her jeans, chilling her to the core.
Thirty feet later, she hoisted herself over the edge and stumbled across the narrow strip of road. The late morning sun warmed her face as she drooped against the wall of rock and filled her lungs with mass quantities of fresh spring air.
The untouched beauty of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains spread in every direction. Still adorned with their winter white, the jagged summits splayed across a pristine blue sky.
She rinsed her hands in a steady stream of run-off that rained down the face of the mountain before retrieving her phone from the pocket of her denim jacket. She unlocked the screen to see her favorite nine-year-old smiling up at her from the device, his big brown eyes alight with excitement.
For nearly ten years her greatest fear had been losing her son. At this moment she couldn’t help wondering, what if Austin had lost her?
She glanced down at her bright pink tour vehicle, unable to stop the tears trailing down her cheeks. Who would take care of Austin if something happened to her?
Using the sleeve of her jacket, she wiped her tears away as she dialed Dan Carthage. Her mechanic and part-time guide would know what to do. “Please, please be there.”
One ring. Two. Th—
“Hello.”
“This is Blakely. I need your help.”
Forty-five minutes later, Dan’s Toyota SUV rounded the bend. But he wasn’t alone.
Surely he hadn’t brought her grandmother. The old girl would be beside herself if she saw the wreckage.
Dan, who was more family friend than employee, bolted from the SUV and hurried to meet her. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” She gestured toward her 4x4 pickup that had been specially outfitted to carry up to nine passengers in open-air comfort. “It’s the truck I’m worried about.” Memorial Day weekend was just a little over a week away. The kickoff of the high season. The loss of a vehicle would mean fewer tours. Fewer tours generated less income. Income she counted on to pay the bills.
Ross Chapman would have a field day with this. Only a couple of hours ago, her rival had offered to buy Adventures in Pink.
Talk about nerve. Granddad started this company thirty-five years ago with a dream. A passion for sharing the splendor of these mountains with others. And he left Adventures in Pink to her. She couldn’t imagine selling.
Dan let go a low whistle, distracting her from thoughts of Ross Chapman. “You walked away from that?”
“Piece of cake.” Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the other person—tall, dark and definitely not Gran—rounded Dan’s vehicle.
Oh. My.
She blinked twice, her pulse racing once again.
His dark brown hair was shorter than she remembered, but those root beer eyes that had haunted her dreams for longer than she cared to admit hadn’t changed one bit.
Tugging at her jacket, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Blakely....” Dan dragged out her name as though she’d embarrassed him. If he only knew. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Lockridge. I was at the doctor’s office in Ridgway when you called. He offered to come along and help.”
Of course, he did.
“Hello, Blakely.”
She visually traced the outline of his face, the high cheekbones, his lazy smile. The last time she heard from Trent Lockridge he was in Albuquerque, riding off into the sunset with someone else. So he’d made it through medical school after all.
“You two know each other?” Dan’s gaze flitted between them.
“It’s been a while, but yes.” Trent’s scrutiny had her feeling like a disfigured bug under a microscope.
No telling how many kids he and his wife had now. Probably a whole houseful. Aside from becoming a doctor, Trent’s greatest dream had been to have a family.
Looked like he’d gotten everything he ever wanted.
Jutting her chin out, she said, “I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”
His stare faltered as he toed an embedded rock. “I thought Dan explained that. I work at the clinic.”
“Since when?”
He looked at her now. “Since Monday.” Was it her imagination or did Trent’s shoulders drop a notch?
“Well, you’re not working on me.” Simmering anger and more what-ifs than she could count propelled her toward the SUV. A few swift steps into her escape, though, her head swam. Flashes of white light darted through her vision. She tripped.
“Easy.” Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and kept her steady until she regained her wits. When she did, she quickly extricated herself from Trent’s grasp.
“Looks like somebody’s had a little too much excitement.” He turned to Dan. “Let’s get her to your truck.”
To her dismay, they flanked her, wet gravel crunching in surround sound. Her mud-covered jeans had begun to dry and were slapping against her legs like a sandwich board. Miserable. And oh so unattractive.
Dan opened the door and Trent offered