Her Rocky Mountain Hope. Mindy Obenhaus
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mall, not the adventure course.
Leaning toward his friend, he responded, “Someone neither of us would ever be interested in.”
He watched her for a moment, noticing that she looked kind of lost, tugging her sweater around her midsection as though she was uncomfortable. Her gaze moved past him, then quickly returned as recognition dawned. Why had he not noticed how strikingly beautiful her eyes were? Not brown, not green, not blue. But an interesting blend of each.
Giving himself a shake, he moved toward her. “Good morning.”
She lifted her chin. “Good morning.”
“I was just about to grab some breakfast,” he said. “Care to join me?”
“Thank you.”
They continued toward the kitchen at the far end of the room.
“For now, we’re keeping things simple,” he said. “But once the campers arrive, meals would be served family style, with platters and bowls of food being delivered to the tables.”
“That’s good.” She considered the space. “Avoids making anyone stand out if they have trouble walking or managing a tray.”
“Exactly.”
Inside the commercial-style kitchen, Juanita, the camp’s cook, waited beside a warming table to serve them. “Good morning, Mr. Daniel.”
“Juanita, I’d like you to meet Blythe McDonald. She’s going to be visiting with us for a couple of weeks.” He groaned inside. Two very long weeks.
“Oh...” Juanita hurriedly wiped her hands before extending one toward Blythe. “I’m so happy to meet you, miss.”
Blythe smiled as she shook the woman’s hand. “The pleasure is mine, Juanita. And please, call me Blythe.”
“Juanita is one of the best cooks on the Western Slope.”
The middle-aged Hispanic woman with short black hair and compassionate dark eyes waved a hand through the air. “You flatter, Mr. Daniel.”
“No, I tell the truth.”
With a wink, she added two extra pieces of bacon to his plate of scrambled eggs and white toast, and handed it to him before addressing Blythe. “What you like, Miss Blythe?”
“Scrambled eggs are fine. Do you have any whole wheat toast?”
“Yes. I’ll have it ready in just a minute.”
“Perfect.” Accepting her plate, Blythe followed him to an empty table. “What a sweet woman.”
“Yes, she is.” He set his plate on the wooden tabletop. “And her food is amazing. We’re blessed to have her.”
“How did you find her?” Blythe eased into her chair.
“She was a friend of my mother.” He sat, too.
“Was?”
He set his paper napkin over his lap. “My mother passed away four years ago.” He met that stunning hazel gaze. “Breast cancer.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her food. “I’m so sorry.”
“Your toast, Miss Blythe.” Juanita set the small plate with two slices on the table, saving them from what could have been an awkward moment. All anybody ever said when they learned a loved one had died was “I’m sorry” or “Sorry for your loss.” And while he knew it was out of respect, it just felt...weird.
Blythe looked up then. “Thank you, Juanita. Thank you very much.” After the woman scurried away, Blythe eyed him, one perfectly arched brow raised in question. “Has she always called you Mr. Daniel?”
“No, that’s something new. I guess because I’m her boss. She never used to do th—”
“Excuse me, Daniel.” Teri, one of the female counselors, or camp companions as he preferred they be called, looked from him to Blythe. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I thought you should know that Felicia is sick.”
“Oh, no. What’s wrong?”
“Nausea. Vomiting.” Teri glanced at their plates. “Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose. “The doctor is with her now.”
He looked at Blythe. “I need to go check on her.”
“Yes, of course.” She set her napkin on the table. “I’ll go with you.”
Not exactly what he’d had in mind, but he wasn’t about to argue.
He burst out the door into the cool morning air and half jogged across the grass, heading in the direction of the cabins, until he noticed Blythe couldn’t keep up. Yes, she was speed walking, but her legs were considerably shorter than his. Though those heeled booties weren’t helping.
He slowed his steps to match hers.
“What if she’s contagious?” Blythe glanced his way as they continued onto the tree-lined path. “We can’t risk any of the kids getting sick. What if she has to leave? Do you have backups? Someone you can call on to fill in for her?”
Now he wished he’d kept running. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“The board needs to know how you intend to handle these sorts of issues.”
“Fine, then, I’ll let you know after I find out what’s going on with Felicia.”
Blythe didn’t respond, and he wasn’t about to look at her to see her no doubt annoyed expression.
Fortunately, Felicia was in the nearest cabin.
He knocked, waiting until they were invited to enter. When they did, it was Joel Brandt, the camp doctor, known to everyone as Dr. Joel, who met them.
“Daniel, the good news is she isn’t contagious.” The doctor looked down at Felicia who was lying on the bottom bunk, her face pale against her dark blue pillow case. “She’s pregnant.”
The young wife sent Daniel a sorrowful look. “I had no idea. I mean, we’re not even trying.”
“Based on her symptoms, we did a test.” Dr. Joel turned Daniel’s way. “The bad news is that this morning sickness is apt to keep her down for a few weeks. I’d recommend you find someone else to fill her position.”
“Yes, of course.” Daniel smiled at Felicia. “Don’t be upset. This is happy news.”
“I know.” She pouted. “I guess I should call my husband.”
“For sure.” Daniel stepped forward, reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You concentrate on yourself and that baby, and don’t worry about us. We’ve got you covered.” Or they would just as soon as he made some phone calls. Then whoever took her place would have to be brought up to speed and undergo a crash course with the medical staff, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. She’d only feel worse.
“Thank you.”
With that, he escorted Blythe outside.
As they started up the path in the direction of the chow hall, he could feel Blythe watching him. Wait for it...
“Do you have someone who can take her place?” she finally asked.
“We have a list of alternates, yes.” Overhead, wind blew through the trees as he looked down at her. “I’m going to have to make some phone calls, though. So, if you’ll excuse me—”
“I can do it.”
Call him clueless. “Do what?”
“Serve as counselor in Felicia’s stead.”
He knew it was wrong to judge, but Blythe didn’t strike him as the outdoorsy type. On the contrary, she came across as a city girl through and through.
Clearing