Midnight Sons Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  Now that Abbey thought about it, one of those cabins was ideal. There was also a touch of irony attached to it. She’d come here in response to an advertisement offering jobs to women willing to move to Hard Luck, fifty miles north of the Arctic Circle. Hoping to attract qualified applicants, Midnight Sons had included a cabin and twenty acres of land. What the brothers hadn’t bothered to disclose was that the cabins were dilapidated one-room shacks, desperately in need of repair. If that wasn’t insult enough, the twenty acres they’d so generously thrown in were nowhere near Hard Luck or the cabins. For the most part they were only accessible by air.

  “Matt’s done a good job with those cabins,” Sawyer remarked.

  Abbey agreed. The original shacks were torn down years ago and larger, better-equipped cabins had been built. The Caldwells had begun an extensive process of renovation and Scott would be renting one of the newly upgraded cabins.

  “Scott’s had a busy afternoon,” Sawyer continued. “He was in to see Tracy about having the papers drawn up.”

  “Not Chrissie?” Abbey asked.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Apparently not. My guess is, he knows he’s got some fences to mend.”

  Abbey nodded slowly. As Scott’s mother she could think of no better wife for her son than Chrissie Harris. Although Scott had never discussed his feelings for Chrissie, Abbey knew he’d loved her as a teenager, and she strongly suspected he loved her still.

  That morning when he’d arrived, Abbey noticed the way Scott’s gaze had moved over the crowd gathered to greet him. He’d been searching for Chrissie; she was sure of it. And practically the first stop he’d made in town was the attorneys’ office. Yes, there were some legal papers to be drawn up, but there certainly wasn’t any rush.

  “Abbey?”

  She glanced up to find her husband watching her.

  “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

  Abbey played dumb. “What look?”

  “The one that tells me you’re up to no good.”

  She frowned with indignation. “You haven’t got a clue what I’m thinking, Sawyer O’Halloran.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” her husband challenged, leaving her desk to sink into an overstuffed chair. Abbey sat on the chair arm beside him. “I do know what you’re thinking,” he told her. “You’re thinking about Scott and Chrissie.”

  Abbey considered arguing with him, but he was right and he knew it. “Don’t you remember how badly Scott wanted us to get married?” she asked, the years rolling away with the memory. Sawyer had originally proposed for what Abbey believed to be all the wrong reasons. It’d nearly broken her heart to turn him down, but with one failed marriage behind her, she couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. She’d already fallen in love with him, but his proposal had been motivated more by his fear that someone else might ask her first. Or so it had seemed to her. Loving him the way she did, afraid he didn’t really love her, she’d felt the only sensible option was to protect her family—and her emotions. She’d decided to leave Hard Luck. Then Scott and Susan had disappeared. Abbey had never known such panic as she’d felt that night.

  Her husband reached for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “If not for Scott and Susan running away, I might have lost you. I was crazy about you then and I’m even crazier about you now.”

  Abbey pressed her head to his shoulder, savoring the feel of his arms around her.

  “Only, back then I didn’t know how to tell you,” Sawyer said, the frustration and anguish of that night evident even after all these years. “I didn’t know how to persuade you to stay.”

  Abbey kept her head against her husband’s shoulder. “Now Scott needs our help,” she whispered.

  “With Chrissie?”

  Abbey nodded. “I’m afraid he’s more like you than you realize. He loves Chrissie, but he’s not sure what to do.”

  “Are you suggesting I give him advice?” Sawyer asked, looking aghast at the prospect.

  Abbey giggled. “Hardly. The situation calls for diplomacy.”

  Her husband’s frown cut deep grooves in his forehead. “Like what?” he asked warily. “And please note that I’m ignoring the slur on my diplomatic abilities.”

  Abbey smiled. “Let’s hold a welcome-home party for him. Next Friday—a week from tonight. We have a lot to celebrate, don’t you think?”

  “We do indeed.” Sawyer’s face relaxed. “And there’s a certain someone you’re going to invite, isn’t there?”

  “Shh.” Abbey brought her index finger to her lips. “I don’t want to be obvious about it.”

  “Right,” Sawyer said, sounding amused. “We wouldn’t want to be obvious.”

  “We’ll make it a surprise party.”

  “A surprise party?” Sawyer echoed. “But who do you intend to surprise? Scott or Chrissie?”

  IT WAS ALMOST FOUR-THIRTY when Scott walked into the Hard Luck Café—too early for the dinner crowd. The restaurant hadn’t changed much over the years, and neither had Ben. To Scott’s eyes, Ben Hamilton had aged barely a year in the past ten. He was in his sixties now, his hair a little thinner on top but his welcoming smile as warm as always.

  “Scott!” Ben greeted him with unconcealed delight. “Hey, boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  The two men exchanged hearty handshakes and then impulsively hugged.

  “So you’re moving back to Hard Luck?” Ben asked.

  “I am,” Scott confirmed, and slid onto a stool at the counter. He picked up a menu, although he wasn’t planning to order a meal. The menu was a lot more professional-looking than it used to be with its smudged type and cracked plastic coating. But fancy menus or not, the Hard Luck Café had been his favorite restaurant for years, and in his time away he hadn’t found any he liked better.

  “We got salmon on special. Mary poaches it in a lemon sauce that’s out of this world.” Ben kissed his fingertips extravagantly as he spoke.

  In the old days, Ben had served everything loaded down with fat and extra calories. No more; his wife, Mary, had seen to that. Healthy food choices had started appearing on the menu when Ben married her, although the changes had been surprisingly subtle.

  “Salmon sounds good, but Mom’s cooking me a feast.” He closed the menu and tucked it behind the sugar canister. Ben automatically poured him a mug of coffee.

  “So I hear you’re going to be flying with your dad and Christian.”

  “I am.” His hands cupped the mug. Scott had earned his pilot’s license when he was sixteen. Whereas most teens hungered for their driver’s license, Scott had been far more interested in learning to fly. After his stint in the army, he’d worked for a flight service out of Utah, flying tourists over the Canyonlands. He’d been content, enjoying his freedom and earning decent money. He’d had friends, lots of them, and a number of women he saw on a regular basis—but these relationships were all casual, without depth or commitment. He’d also been engaged once, but that had turned into a spectacular mess, and he hadn’t repeated the experience. Then, a month ago, he’d suddenly realized he’d been running away from what he wanted most, and that was his home and family. He missed Alaska, regretted the anger of his youth and the pain he’d brought his parents. It was time to make amends.

  And then there was Chrissie.

  He smiled thinking about their encounter that morning. When he announced that he’d merely come for legal advice, she’d looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole. He’d managed not to laugh then but couldn’t restrain his amusement now. He chuckled, replaying the scene in his mind.

  “Did I miss something funny?” Ben asked, sidling up to the counter and leaning against it just as he had for so many years.

  “Not really,” Scott told him. “Just something that happened this morning, soon after I got here.”

  “Oh.”

  Scott had stopped by Chrissie’s office on business, but he was willing to admit there was more to it than that. He’d wanted to see her and, in fact, h
ad been anticipating their meeting for weeks.

  Chrissie was one of the reasons he’d stayed away from Hard Luck and one of the reasons he’d come home.

  “Seems just like the old days seeing you again,” Ben said.

  “The old days,” Scott repeated. Back then, the Hard Luck Café had been the gathering place for the entire community. The men, in particular, used to meet at Ben’s. Not only that, many people in the community, if not most, had come to Ben at one time or another to talk through their problems. Scott suspected they continued to do so.

  “Remember that frequent-eater program?” Scott asked.

  “Yeah,” Ben answered with a grin. It was a short-lived program. “Don’t need gimmicks like that,” he said. “I got more business than I know what to do with.”

  Scott nodded; he wasn’t surprised that Ben’s remained popular. He knew that in the last ten years a couple of other restaurants had opened, but the Hard Luck Café was—and deserved to be—everyone’s favorite. Ben was officially retired; however, he couldn’t quite keep his hands out of the business.

  “I remember you as a youngster, sitting on one of those stools,” Ben said with genuine fondness. “Only seems right to see you here now.”

  “It used to be I could talk to you about anything,” Scott recalled.

  “Still can, if you’ve got a hankering,” Ben assured him.

  Scott was tempted. Many a time he’d discussed his problems with Ben Hamilton. Many a time he’d felt as if the world was against him. Few people knew that Ben was the one who’d suggested Scott consider enlisting in the military. A former navy man, he’d been disappointed when Scott chose the army. But not as disappointed as Sawyer that he hadn’t decided on the air force.

  Back then, Scott had been downright contrary. Angry, too, only he didn’t know why or at what. Eventually he’d recognized that it wasn’t Sawyer he hated. Scott knew he’d been old enough at the time of his parents’ separation to be aware of his biological father’s rejection and to be seriously hurt by it, to wonder if he was somehow to blame. The teen years had become increasingly difficult, especially when he’d secretly contacted his father at fifteen—and been rejected a second time. Then Eagle Catcher, his husky, had died. The grief he’d felt over the loss of his dog had deepened his anger. Hardly understanding himself, he’d lashed out at those he loved most. The things he’d said and done embarrassed him now.

  “Anything you want to discuss?” Ben asked, sounding eager. “It stays right here. Nothing you tell me goes any further.”

  Scott hesitated, then decided to ask about Chrissie. Really, there wasn’t anyone else he could ask. Not Susan, who was guaranteed to run to her friend and repeat every word. Not the other pilots, either, or his uncles or aunts. No one in his extended family, that was for sure.

  “Is Chrissie seeing anyone special?” he blurted out before he could stop to ponder the wisdom of showing his hand like this.

  “Chrissie Harris?” Ben asked as if there were two Chrissies in Hard Luck. He averted his gaze. “As a matter of fact, she is.”

  “I see.” So Chrissie was involved. It made sense that she would be. Ridiculous though it was, considering their history, he’d hoped she’d be as interested in renewing their relationship as he was.

  “I’ve never met him, mind you,” Ben was saying.

  “He’s in Fairbanks?”

  “So I understand.”

  “You hear anything else?”

  “Some.” Ben was less forthcoming than usual.

  Scott waited patiently.

  “I don’t know who he is. I’m probably speaking out of turn by telling you anything.”

  “I’d like to know,” Scott said. “I need to know,” he thought to himself.

  “She visits Joel every second weekend. That’s all I know—Joel, Fairbanks, twice a month. Okay?”

  “Does Joel have a last name?” Not that it mattered, but Scott was curious.

  “Must have, but no one’s ever told me.”

  There’d been a Joel Higgins a year behind him in school—a good athlete, well liked and well adjusted. Needless to say, Scott hadn’t cared for him and dismissed him as a male Goody Two-Shoes.

  “Every other Saturday morning, Chrissie flies into Fairbanks and doesn’t return until Sunday afternoon. Generally she comes in here for a bite to eat before heading home. Once in a while she mentions Joel, but she’s pretty closemouthed about him. Let me add one more thing, though,” he said, and paused, frowning heavily. “By the time she steps off that plane, she’s really dragging.”

  Scott didn’t need Ben to say another word; he got the picture. Chrissie spent weekends with Joel and arrived back in Hard Luck exhausted. He didn’t need to guess the reason, either. No wonder his sister hadn’t mentioned Chrissie’s involvement with someone else.

  Sure as anything she knew, but she hadn’t so much as dropped a hint—because his finding out would ruin everything. Susan, the hopeless romantic, refused to let go of the idea that Scott and Chrissie belonged together.

  “Ask her,” Ben advised.

  “Ask Chrissie? You have to be kidding!”

  “Why not?” Ben demanded. “Nothing works better than the direct approach. According to Mary, that’s what women want these days. None of this second-guessing stuff. That went out with the seventies. If nothing else, Chrissie will respect you for being forthright enough to ask.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said reluctantly.

  Scott finished his coffee, but when he went to pay, Ben told him it was on the house. His old friend’s generosity hadn’t changed. In addition to a good cup of coffee, he’d given Scott something to think about.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS passed quickly. School had begun again on Tuesday. Wednesday afternoon Scott had an appointment at the law office. He was in the waiting room when Chrissie walked into the reception area. She halted midstep the instant she saw him.

  “Hello, Scott,” she said, her voice cool and even.

  “Chrissie.” He nodded. Then, feeling the need to explain the purpose of his visit, he added, “I have an appointment with Tracy.”

  “Yes, I know.” She held a folder in both hands and wore a slightly puzzled expression, as if she’d forgotten why she’d come out of her office. “I, uh, gather everything’s going very well for you at Midnight Sons.”

  “I’m enjoying myself.”

  “Everyone’s pleased to have you home.”

  “Everyone?” he asked, wondering if she included herself.

  “Your family, certainly.” This came after a slight hesitation.

  “I had coffee at Ben’s the other day,” he said casually, hoping to ease into a more comfortable conversation. “I swear he hasn’t changed at all.”

  “He’s wonderful. So is Mary.”

  A short silence followed, which Chrissie broke. “I understand Matt and Karen rented you one of the renovated cabins.”

  So she’d been checking up on him. That was encouraging. Maybe, just maybe, she still cared. That thought gave him the courage to ask her out. “I was thinking you and I might have a drink one afternoon,” he suggested.

  Her eyes widened and her hands tightened on the folder.

  “A drink,” she repeated slowly. “At Ben’s?”

  He nodded. “Or dinner, if you prefer.”

  She squared her shoulders and chewed her lower lip before answering. “I don’t think so.”

  He shrugged, as if her refusal was of little consequence to him. “That’s too bad. I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you.”

  Chrissie’s expressive eyes had always told him what was on her mind before she uttered a word.

  “You had something you wanted to talk to me about?” she finally said.

  “Yeah.”

  She worried her lower lip further. “Maybe…” She hesitated, then seemed to regain her resolve. “I don’t think so, Scott,” she said again. “Thanks, anyway.” She turned away to enter her office.

  “How lon
g do you intend to avoid me?” he called after her.

  At his question, she turned back. “Avoid you? Don’t flatter yourself. What I intend to do is live my life just the way I am now.”

  “You obviously have every intention of avoiding me.”

  “I have every intention of not seeking you out. That’s not the same thing.”

  “I see.”

  “Apparently you don’t,” she returned in her best lawyer voice. “You’re out of my life, Scott. That was your choice, not mine.”

  “People change, Chrissie. They—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she interrupted, waving her finger at him. “You’re not going to do this to me. Not again.”

  “I asked you out for a drink. I wasn’t proposing we move in together.”

  “Oh, sure, a drink—for old times’ sake.”

  “No,” he corrected. “A drink to clear the air. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

  Her eyes flared with outrage. “What you deserve, Scott O’Halloran, is a slap across the face.” She raised her chin so high she threatened to put her neck out of joint. “All right,” she said abruptly. “Fine. As a matter of fairness I’ll have a drink with you.”

  Scott felt a surge of hope. “When?”

  “Friday night at the party.”

  Scott frowned. “What party?”

  “The party your parents are—” She bit off the rest of the sentence.

  “Chrissie?”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she slowly exhaled. “Oh, darn, it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  Chapter

  3

  THURSDAY MORNING Karen Caldwell poured her husband a second cup of coffee, then joined him in the massive kitchen at the Hard Luck Lodge. Working as a team, they’d built the lodge into one of the most popular tourist destinations in the state. It’d taken fifteen years of blood, sweat and tears. They were equal partners, Karen and Matt, not only in business, but in life.