Midnight Sons Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  “I am at home,” Ben snapped, then immediately regretted the outburst. “It feels good to have my own things around me. I—I appreciate your concern.”

  Mitch accepted the apology by giving him a pat on the shoulder.

  There was a certain solace in being home, among his familiar comforts. The recliner. The television with its antenna, one spoke wrapped in aluminum foil. He’d gotten a satellite dish a few years back, but hadn’t bothered to remove the antenna. You never knew when it might come in handy. His glance fell on the American flag framed and mounted on the wall. A small memento of more than twenty years in the navy.

  It wasn’t much, but this was home and the place he loved.

  “Help yourself to a drink,” he told Mitch, gesturing toward the refrigerator in the compact kitchen. To his surprise Mitch took him up on the offer.

  These days the couple generally stayed only long enough to make sure he was comfortable and then were on their way. Ben didn’t blame them; their lives were busy. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he wasn’t good company.

  Bethany claimed the chair across from him, and Mitch sat on the thick padded arm, his hand resting on his wife’s shoulder. Come spring, Ben reminded himself, there’d be a brand-new baby at their house.

  The thought of their child, his own grandchild, was one of the things that had helped him through the worst part of his recovery. He wanted to live to see Bethany’s children. He’d missed out on the chance to be a father, and he looked forward to being a grandpa.

  “Mitch and I wanted to talk to you about the café,” Bethany said, glancing at her husband.

  Ben tensed. He should’ve realized there was something coming. If these two thought they were going to convince him to retire and sell the café, they’d better think again.

  “I’m not selling,” he said, unwilling to let them even broach the subject.

  “Sell the café?” Bethany repeated. “Ben, no, we’d never suggest that!”

  His shoulders relaxed as relief flowed through him.

  “We only want to encourage you to hire some help.”

  “I planned on doing that myself as soon as—”

  “You got around to it,” Bethany finished for him. “You’ve been saying that for months. Here you are, recuperating from open-heart surgery, and you’re still just talking about it.”

  “Yes, well…”

  “Look at you. You’re barely out of the hospital and already you want to open the café.”

  “Part-time,” he said under his breath, knowing they weren’t really prepared to listen. They’d already made up their minds, just like he had.

  “Just how long would that part-time business last?” Bethany asked in a knowing voice. Ben suspected she was right. He’d open up the café for dinner, and soon people would start wandering in around lunchtime, and before he knew it, he’d be back on the same old treadmill. But it was what he loved, what he did best. Fact was, he longed for his friends. People used to come in every day for coffee and conversation, and he missed that more than anything. Heck, he was downright lonely.

  “People count on me,” he said.

  “We know that.” At least Mitch agreed with him. “That’s why we want you to hire someone to come and help now. Someone with plenty of experience you won’t need to train.”

  “Just where do you suppose you’ll find someone like that?” Ben asked. He wanted it known right then and there that he didn’t think much of their idea. “Especially with the kind of wages I can afford.” His thoughts went into overdrive. Another cook, especially one with plenty of seasoning, would run the place his way. Pretty soon Ben wouldn’t belong in his own kitchen anymore!

  “I’ve talked to Matt and Karen about taking in a boarder and—”

  It hit him then. Strange how long it had taken him to catch on. Bethany and Mitch already had someone in mind.

  “Who is it?” he asked outright, interrupting Mitch.

  Once more the couple exchanged glances. “Mrs. McMurphy,” Mitch said.

  “A woman?”

  “Do you have something against a woman, Ben?” Bethany asked, challenge in her tone.

  He opened his mouth to detail exactly why he did object to a woman working in his kitchen, then realized he couldn’t say one word without offending Bethany.

  “Where’d you find her?” he asked instead.

  “In Fairbanks. She cooked at the Sourdough Café for years. Christian and Sawyer go there a lot, so they met her. She told them she’s looking for a change of scene.”

  Ben knew the Sourdough Café had a reputation for good food. His objections started to dwindle. “She won’t want to work here in Hard Luck,” he muttered. The kids meant well, he knew.

  “Why don’t you meet her and ask her yourself?” Bethany suggested. “I talked to Sawyer, and he said Mrs. McMurphy could fly in with the mail run one day next week. If you don’t like her, then no harm done.”

  He wasn’t going to like her, but Ben didn’t have the heart to burst the kids’ bubble. Just because the woman could cook didn’t mean he was comfortable letting a stranger into his kitchen.

  “You’ll at least meet her, won’t you?” Bethany pressed.

  “Okay, okay,” Ben answered reluctantly. “But I’m not making any promises.”

  TRACY WAS out at the airfield by nine-thirty the next morning. Fat snowflakes drifted down from a leaden sky, and she wondered if the flight would be canceled because of the weather.

  She lugged her suitcase into the mobile office for Midnight Sons, and the first person she saw was Duke. He appeared to be reading something on a clipboard; he didn’t look up or acknowledge her. Not that she expected he would.

  Sawyer O’Halloran was there, as well, talking into the radio; he was apparently collecting the latest weather data.

  When he’d finished, he turned off the switch and swiveled around to greet Tracy. “Looks like it’ll just be you and Duke.”

  This was not promising. “What happened to Mr. and Mrs. Douglas? We’re supposed to be leaving together.”

  “They’ve decided to stay on another day,” Sawyer explained. “Mrs. Douglas doesn’t want to fly in the snow.”

  “Will the storm be a problem?” Tracy asked.

  “Not as far as we can tell, and Duke’s the best pilot in our fleet. You don’t have anything to worry about,” he said, then casually mentioned that the plane had recently been serviced. This, she suspected, was done to reassure her that everything was in good shape.

  Duke’s gaze met hers. “You want to wait with the Douglases?” he asked. Although there was nothing in his voice, a glint of challenge flashed from his cool gray eyes.

  “No, I’ll go,” she said. Really she had no choice. Her court schedule was packed and she couldn’t afford to miss any more work.

  “What time’s your flight out of Fairbanks?” Duke asked.

  She told him, and he glanced at his watch. “Then let’s leave now. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to avoid the worst of the storm.”

  She reached for her suitcase. Duke paused, his eyes holding hers. “You aren’t afraid of a little snow, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Somehow, it seemed important not to let him know she didn’t entirely trust him or the weather. But the truth was, she’d prefer to fly when the weather was clear.

  He nodded in approval. “You ready?” he asked, setting aside the clipboard.

  “Sure,” she said brightly, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice.

  Duke headed out the door, and she guessed she was expected to follow him. But she didn’t, not right away.

  “Sawyer,” she said, gripping her suitcase with both hands.

  The middle O’Halloran brother looked up from his desk.

  “I just wanted you to know that…that I think you’ve been completely fair with the women you’ve hired.” This was more awkward than she’d thought. For some time now, she’d wanted to apologize, set the record straight, and this was the first real opportu
nity she’d had. “I realize we started off on the wrong foot, what with me arriving here the way I did. I couldn’t be happier for Mariah and Christian, and the others.”

  He cracked a smile and dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it. You were only doing your job. The Douglases are decent people, and they had every right to be concerned about Mariah.”

  Tracy felt better for having shared her regrets. They’d weighed on her mind all weekend. She’d meant the O’Hallorans no harm. Over the past year she’d come to respect the three brothers, and she didn’t want there to be any hard feelings.

  “I guess I should be on my way,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the door. “I had a marvelous weekend. Thank you.”

  “We’re glad you could make the wedding on such short notice.”

  It had taken a bit of finagling, but Tracy had managed to change her schedule, flying in on Friday afternoon. This was one wedding she hadn’t wanted to miss, even though it meant traveling more than twenty-five hundred miles.

  Duke was inspecting the exterior of the plane when Tracy joined him. “You can get in,” he said absently.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, more certain than ever that this one-hour flight would feel like a lifetime. She’d taken Mariah’s advice and dressed warmly in wool pants and a thick cable-knit sweater. Since the interior of the aircraft was heated, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to keep her coat on or take it off.

  Tracy was about to ask, but decided the less conversation between her and Duke, the better. Since he wore his jacket, she’d wear hers, too.

  Once inside the aircraft, Tracy fastened her seat belt and held her breath. Flying didn’t usually frighten her, but she’d rarely flown in a storm or in an aircraft this small. Neither Sawyer nor Duke had expressed any qualms, though, and they were the experts. Midnight Sons was proud of its safety record, and she was confident they wouldn’t fly if conditions were hazardous.

  Duke climbed into the plane and started the engine, which fired readily to life. Next he reached for the headset, adjusting it over his ears, and spoke into the small attached microphone. She could hardly hear him over the roar of the engine.

  They taxied to the end of the runway, then turned around. She watched him do an equipment check, pushing various gauges and buttons. According to Sawyer, Duke was the best pilot they had. This ride wasn’t going to be a lot of fun, with the snow coming down fast and furious, but the weather didn’t seem to concern him, so Tracy resolved not to worry about it, either. Easier said than done, however…

  The engine noise increased dramatically as Duke boosted the power and roared down the snow-covered gravel runway. Soon they were airborne. A few minutes later, he removed his headset and tucked it under her seat. After that, he looked in her direction once, as if to check on her.

  “I’m fine,” she shouted. But he must’ve known she was afraid from the way she kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

  It came to her that if she was willing to put her differences with the O’Halloran brothers behind her, she should be willing to do the same with Duke. The words, however, stuck in her throat.

  With Duke it was…personal. Duke felt a woman needed to be tamed. Indeed! It was time the man woke up and realized he lived in the twentieth century. Good grief, almost the twenty-first!

  She supposed that nothing she could say or do would change his opinions, and it would be useless to even try.

  Sighing, Tracy closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Not that it would be possible, but if Duke assumed she was asleep, he might ignore her.

  Tracy wasn’t sure when she noticed a difference, but at one point she became aware that something wasn’t right. It seemed, to her uneducated ear, that the engine noise had altered slightly. She opened her eyes and straightened to find Duke studying the instrument panel.

  “What is it?” she asked, studying the gauges herself.

  He gave no outward indication that anything was wrong. She might not have known if it wasn’t for the increasingly odd noises the engine made.

  “Duke, don’t play games with me!” she cried. This was no time to pay her back for that silly kiss—and yet she hoped that was exactly what he was doing.

  He looked at her as if he didn’t know what she meant.

  “Okay, so I had Mariah kiss you,” she said, and didn’t care that she sounded frantic. “I admit it was a stupid thing to do. I…I don’t know why I did it, but if you’re trying to retaliate and frighten me, then I—”

  It was as though he hadn’t heard her. He cursed loudly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The engine sputtered, and there could be no denying they were experiencing some kind of trouble. Big trouble.

  “We’re losing—”

  The engine faltered again.

  “Start looking,” he ordered tersely.

  “For what?”

  “A place to land. We’re going down.”

  No sooner had he spoken than the engine quit completely.

  CHRISTIAN AND MARIAH sat outside their gate at the Fairbanks airport waiting for their flight. Christian’s arm was around his wife’s shoulders.

  His wife.

  The realization took some getting used to, but it was a good kind of adjustment. Mariah tucked her head under his chin, and he stroked her hair contentedly.

  “Our flight should be called soon,” he told her. An entire two weeks on a cruise ship with his bride sounded like heaven. His life had been turned upside down in the past three weeks. A month ago he would’ve laughed at anyone who suggested he’d be married now. Yet here he was, and about as happy as any man had a right to be.

  Mariah’s eyes were closed, but she was smiling.

  She had good reason to be tired—and happy. Their wedding night had been one of discovery and joy. Christian was still shocked that he’d been so clueless about his feelings for Mariah all these months. Once he’d recognized that he was in love with her, it was as if his whole world had expanded.

  For the first year of their acquaintance, he’d barely been able to work in the same room with her, convinced she was nothing but trouble. Everyone else was crazy about her, but ironically, she was trouble—for Christian’s heart.

  He’d sensed that his self-contained emotional life was about to be blown wide open. Knowing he was in grave danger, he’d raised a protective barrier against her. He’d been ill-tempered, unreasonable and cantankerous, yet she’d put up with him day after day.

  It would take him a lifetime to make up for the dreadful way he’d treated her, but it was a task he accepted willingly.

  “Christian,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “Why’d you assign Duke to fly Tracy out of Hard Luck?”

  Christian grinned. Tracy and Duke. Those two were like fire and ice. Complete and total opposites.

  “They don’t get along, you know,” Mariah said, as if he wasn’t already aware of it.

  “Don’t get along” was putting it mildly. He wouldn’t be surprised if they argued the entire flight. He could picture it now. Duke would start the argument because he thrived on verbal battles. Christian suspected he particularly enjoyed getting Tracy riled up. Then she’d respond, and soon the fur would fly.

  “It seems like cruel and unusual punishment to subject those two to each other for any length of time,” Mariah said.

  “Your parents will be there to mediate.” He kissed the crown of her head. “Have I told you yet how much I love you?” he asked, changing the subject.

  A slow, contented smile spread over her face. “As a matter of fact, you did. I love you, too.”

  His arm tightened briefly around her shoulders. “I know.” Her love was one thing he’d never doubt.

  “By the way,” she said, raising her head to meet his gaze, “when did you start drinking your coffee black?”

  Christian figured heaven would bless him for the restraint it required not to laugh outright. As his secretary, Mariah had served him coffee ever
y morning for more than a year. Some days she added cream, others sugar, occasionally both, but only rarely did she get it right.

  “Just recently,” he answered.

  His heart swelled with love, and he wondered if it would always be like this with him and Mariah. Sawyer seemed to indicate that it would. He’d married Abbey a year earlier and had never been happier. Charles, the oldest brother, had gotten married last spring.

  At the time, Christian had felt light-years away from making a commitment to any woman, yet here he was, less than six months later, with his new wife by his side. The best part was how happy he was. He’d always thought that when it was time to get married, he’d go into the relationship with some reluctance, knowing his bachelor days were over. It hadn’t been that way at all. He felt like the most fortunate man alive.

  “You never did answer my question,” Mariah said, nestling her head more securely against him.

  “What question?” He was easily sidetracked these days.

  “About assigning Duke to fly Tracy into town.”

  “I didn’t assign him the flight,” Christian murmured.

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with unasked questions.

  “It’s true,” Christian assured her.

  “But I saw it on the schedule myself. I even warned Tracy and promised her it wasn’t my doing, and now you’re telling me Duke isn’t flying her into town?”

  “No,” he said, and laughed smugly, “I’m telling you I didn’t give Duke the assignment.”

  “Then how—”

  “Duke requested it.”

  “He did?” Her wonderfully expressive face revealed her shock.

  Christian nodded. “I thought it was a bit strange myself. But who am I to question such matters?”

  “Really.” Mariah’s smile was back. “So Duke requested it. I’m beginning to suspect there’s more going on with those two than meets the eye.”

  Christian opened his mouth to argue, then changed his mind. Everything he knew about love and romance he’d learned from his wife. She was the expert.

  AVIATE. NAVIGATE. Communicate.