paced the empty Sunday School room. Out of the handful of churches in Ouray, what were the odds that Trent would show up at Restoration Fellowship? Now she faced the less-than-desirable prospect of sitting with him during worship.
“What are you doing in there?”
She turned to the voice coming from across the hall. Taryn Purcell, Ouray’s best mountain guide, stared over the Dutch door that led to the church nursery.
“Just a little tidying up.” As if to prove her point, she snatched a bulletin from a metal folding chair and tossed it into the trash.
Her friend lifted a brow. “Since when do you and four gray-haired ladies make a mess?”
Blakely frowned, surveying the tiny room. Even the chalkboard remained pristine.
“I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Piano music drifted from the sanctuary as she flipped off the light and crossed to the brightly colored children’s area. Vrooms and crashing sounds echoed from the corner. Blakely smiled at two little boys playing cars. That had always been Austin’s favorite, too.
“Must be an awful lot, then. It’s not like you to lag behind.” Taryn stooped to pick up the Flint’s two-year-old daughter clinging to her leg. “So what gives, Blakes?”
Her friend knew her too well.
The mural of Jesus and the little children on the opposite wall brightened what had once been a dingy, lifeless room. Hard to believe Austin was four when she painted that. Where had the time gone?
Her attention shifted back to Taryn. “More than I care to go into right now.”
“All right, then. How about after our practice session? Think you can squeeze in some extra girl time?”
Blakely caressed the soft golden curls of the toddler in Taryn’s arms. “I was hoping you might be available.” Her secrets were safe with Taryn. Outside of Gran, she was the only one who knew the story of Austin’s father. And she understood better than anyone else ever could. No doubt she’d also have a thing or two to say about Ross Chapman.
“You know I’m always here for you, Blakes. I’ll even bring chocolate.” Taryn’s smile glinted in her aquamarine eyes.
“You’re on, my friend.”
Notes of “Blessed Be Your Name” filtered down the hall.
“I guess I’d better get in there before Austin gets worried.”
“Yes, you should. And try to contain your excitement, would you?”
Anxiety knotted her stomach by the time she moved down the aisle. Thank goodness everyone was standing, making her late arrival less noticeable. Gran, Austin and Trent lined the pew on the third row, so she slipped in beside Gran and joined in the chorus.
When she stole a glimpse of her son, though, Blakely felt as though she were careening off of Imogene Pass.
Austin and Trent looked so much alike, it was like a six-inch time warp. A younger and older version of the same person. When people saw the two of them together, the rumor mill was bound to start churning, hard and fast. How long would she have before Austin started asking questions?
Her palms grew sweaty. She squeezed her eyes shut. Lord, please make this go away. Make him go away.
After the service, Trent followed them outside. Puffy white clouds meandered across the sky, but storms often lurked on the other side of the mountain.
“Mom, can Trent eat lunch with us?” The eagerness in her son’s tone was hard to miss.
Trent touched the boy’s shoulder. “Hold on there, Austin. I imposed on you guys last night. It’s my turn to do the asking.”
While Blakely cringed, Austin waited expectantly.
“I was thinking about heading over to Ridgway to grab some lunch at the True Grit Café. I’d be honored if you guys would join me.”
“All right!” Austin turned to her, looking as though he might wiggle right out of his tanned skin. “You love their fish tacos.”
“Yes, I do. However, Miss Taryn and I have plans this afternoon.”
Gran waved to a fellow church member. “I thought that wasn’t until three, dear.”
“That’s plenty of time, Mom. Come on. Please?”
The thought of having another family meal with Trent was about as appealing as a box of rocks. But that cherubic face pleading up at her made it impossible to say no.
Defeated, she let go a sigh. “Oh, all right. But we’re not going to make this a habit.” Though the words were directed at Austin, she glared at Trent.
“Great. My truck’s parked right over there.” He pointed to a white four-door pickup. “That is, if you don’t mind me driving?”
Before she could respond, Austin ran ahead.
“You all have fun.” Gran tucked today’s bulletin inside her Bible.
“What?” Blakely’s voice drifted up a notch. She quickly tempered it. “You mean you’re not coming?”
“It’s the third Sunday of the month, dear. Florence and I are doing brunch at Bon Ton.” Her all-too-coy grandmother turned to leave, then paused and smiled. “However, you’re certainly welcome to bring me a piece of the Grit’s wonderful pie.”
* * *
Trent couldn’t help noticing the way Blakely hugged the passenger door of his pickup on the drive to Ridgway. Her ponytail was gone today, allowing waves of strawberry-blond curls to spill over her shoulders, free and easy. Now if only she’d loosen up.
Good thing they had Austin to keep things lively.
“Trent, did you know they made the movie True Grit here?” Austin poked his head between the front seats as Trent pulled into a parking space near the park. “The hanging scene was right over there.”
“I don’t believe it.” He put the vehicle in Park.
“Really. It’s true. Right, Mom?”
“Absolutely right.” She opened her door, apparently eager to escape. Like being in these close quarters, having to endure the sweet fragrance of her shampoo, wasn’t driving him crazy.
“That’s why True Grit’s called True Grit.” Austin hopped from the backseat, gravel crunching when his feet hit the ground.
“You ever see that movie?”
“Lots of times. John Wayne is cool.”
Trent stepped down, his thumbs dangling from his belt loops. “I’d have to agree with you there, Pilgrim.” A lame impersonation of The Duke, but Austin laughed anyway.
Though the soft giggle that filtered through the cab was what really got his attention. He’d missed that laugh.
