Midnight Sons Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  In Mariah’s opinion, Christian’s memory was a bit flawed. “You fired me, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because I was crazy about you. I thought if you were gone, then—But I don’t want to get sidetracked here. All I can remember is how bad I felt when I realized you were actually going to leave. Nothing was working out the way I expected.” His eyes held hers for an extra-long moment. “The fact is, I’m as crazy about you now as I was then.”

  Mariah resisted the urge to walk around her desk and kiss her husband—but only because she wanted to hear the rest of his story.

  “You remember what it was like back then, don’t you?”

  “I’m not likely to forget.” She wouldn’t, either. Christian claimed he’d been depressed, but it didn’t compare to how she’d felt. The weeks after she’d left her position at Midnight Sons had been some of the bleakest of her life. To this day, Mariah didn’t know what she would have done without her friends. Matt and Karen had provided housing and encouragement. Abbey, Lanni O’Halloran, Bethany—they’d all rallied around, offering comfort and advice when all she’d wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was for Christian to love her.

  “It seems odd to remember a conversation I had with a kid almost fifteen years ago,” Christian admitted, “but in some ways, it’s as if it took place yesterday. That’s how clearly I remember Scott giving me his advice to the lovelorn—and talking about Chrissie.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me that one day he was going to marry her, freckles and all.”

  Mariah smiled. “That boy had sense even then.”

  “Unfortunately he appears to have lost it,” Christian said. He checked his watch, and looked surprised when he noted the time. Leaping to his feet, he said, “Gotta go. Are you picking up the boys from soccer practice this afternoon or am I?”

  “I’ll do it,” she said, and grinned at his look of relief. Both their sons were enthusiastic about indoor soccer.

  “I’ll be glad when they can drive themselves,” he said on his way out the door.

  “Me, too,” she agreed. Their two boys, born thirteen months apart, were ten and eleven. They were wonderful kids, both crazy about sports. The oldest, Tyler, loved to fly and often accompanied Christian on his scheduled flights. He was a sociable, gregarious boy. The younger, Travis, while as athletic as his brother, was more of an introvert.

  “See you tonight, then,” Christian called.

  Mariah went to the door and watched her husband leave. She hadn’t quite made it back to her desk when the door opened a second time, and to her astonishment Scott O’Halloran walked in. He looked none too pleased.

  “Christian here?”

  “He just left,” Mariah told him. “If you hurry, you can catch him.”

  “That’s okay, thanks.” Scott began to head out. “I’ll see him later.”

  “We were just talking about you,” Mariah said, and regretted it the instant the words were out of her mouth.

  “Me?” Scott hesitated at the door.

  “Christian was remembering some advice you once gave him about romance.”

  Scott seemed puzzled. “I gave Christian advice?”

  “It’s not surprising that you’ve forgotten,” she said, making light of it, “especially since you were only a kid.”

  “What did I say?”

  She thought for a moment, then decided it wouldn’t do any harm for him to know. “You were quite the matchmaker in those days.”

  “Not me,” he said, smiling for the first time. “I left that to Susan and Chrissie.”

  “That’s not the way I remember it,” Mariah said.

  “Those really were the good old days.” He sighed. “Now that I think about it, maybe you’re right. When I was twelve or so, I toyed with the idea of writing an advice column. I even talked to Lanni about putting it in her paper.”

  “Pretty enterprising of you.”

  “Especially when you consider what a hopeless mess my own love life is.”

  “Scott, that’s not true.” Mariah felt sorry for him. “I’m sure things aren’t hopeless.”

  “It is true,” Scott countered.

  He seemed utterly defeated, and Mariah suddenly wanted to throw her arms around him, as though he were one of her sons. “Christian seemed to think you got him thinking in the right direction,” she said bracingly.

  Scott’s expression was incredulous.

  “Whatever you told Christian worked. We have a successful marriage to prove it.” She had his interest now. “If you love Chrissie—”

  “Mariah, let me stop you here. It’s over. Chrissie isn’t interested.”

  “Don’t you believe it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re wrong. She as much as told me so this weekend. And I think it’s probably for the best.”

  THE OFFICE FELL QUIET when Chrissie entered. Everyone stared at her as she walked in. The secretary, Kate, jumped up from her desk immediately, clutching a handful of files, and followed her down the short hallway.

  “We were all worried when we heard you’d been held up by the storm,” Kate told her.

  “There was nothing to worry about,” Chrissie muttered, wanting to avoid the subject. She reached for the stack of mail on her desk, shuffling through it.

  “I have your appointment calendar for the day.”

  “You can leave it with me,” Chrissie said. In other circumstances, she would’ve headed directly home, soaked in a hot tub and slept through the day. Mondays, however, were often hectic. She had appointments all morning, and it was too late to reschedule them now.

  No sooner had she sat down at her desk than there was a polite knock at her door.

  “Come in.”

  “Hi.” Tracy stuck her head in. “Glad you got here safe and sound.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Everything go all right?”

  Chrissie wasn’t sure how to answer. “Reasonably well, I guess.”

  The worst of the storm hadn’t passed until daylight, and by the time she and Scott returned, the entire town of Hard Luck had heard about their predicament. If that wasn’t bad enough, their families, friends and neighbors had all rushed to the airstrip, eager to welcome them back. Unfortunately, at that stage, Chrissie and Scott were barely on speaking terms.

  Everyone, her parents included, had stared at them with great anticipation, obviously expecting their engagement to be announced on the spot.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Tracy asked.

  “I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

  “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will,” Chrissie promised. “Listen…there’s something I want to talk over with you later.”

  Tracy frowned.

  “I’d explain it now, but there isn’t time. My first appointment’s due in ten minutes and I have to read through his file. Can we talk this afternoon?”

  Tracy nodded. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  “Thanks,” Chrissie whispered as Tracy quietly closed the door.

  Chrissie buried her face in her hands. It didn’t help that she was exhausted, not having slept all night. How could she, with Scott only a few feet away? She doubted he’d gotten any more sleep than she had.

  Scott had left the cabin before dawn and gone to the plane. At first she’d panicked, fearing he’d fly off without her, but then reason had reasserted itself, and she’d acknowledged that, for all his faults, he wouldn’t abandon her. Apparently he’d made radio contact and received the latest weather information. In thirty minutes or so, he returned and told her they’d fly out at first light.

  During the trip back she might as well have been sitting next to a robot. He didn’t speak to her. For that matter, she didn’t have anything to say to him, either. The situation was dreadful and destined to grow worse. Until this weekend misadventure, they’d at least been cordial with each other. Now even that was gone.

  It was clea
r to her, if not to him, that they couldn’t both stay in Hard Luck. One of them had to go. Leaning back in her chair, Chrissie tried to think about it rationally. Since he’d only recently come home and was now a partner in the family business, it didn’t seem right that Scott should leave.

  She was the one who’d have to go. Tears threatened again, but she refused to give in to self-pity. She’d move to Fairbanks, she decided. Get out of Scott’s way.

  That decision made, there was only one thing left to do.

  Tell Tracy and her parents. Then Scott.

  Chapter

  8

  SCOTT HADN’T SLEPT all night, and he suspected Chrissie hadn’t, either. He was bushed. After a visit to the office to drop off his flight bag and chat briefly with Mariah, he headed home. He genuinely sympathized with Chrissie, having to work all day. But the sad fact was, she didn’t want his sympathy or, unfortunately, anything else to do with him.

  When he made a quick stop at the Hard Luck Lodge, Matt and Karen were openly curious about what had happened between him and Chrissie, but they accepted his vague explanation—or seemed to, anyway. Once in his cabin, he stood under a long hot shower and then collapsed on his bed, falling instantly asleep.

  A pounding on his door woke him. Sunlight came into the bedroom’s one window and he glanced at his clock radio, astonished to see that it was already midafternoon.

  “Just a minute,” he growled. Grabbing a pair of jeans, he hurriedly pulled them on, along with a sweatshirt. He padded barefoot to the door, yawning as he went.

  Seeing Chrissie on the other side was a shock. He froze, his yawn half-completed.

  “Do you have a minute?” she asked stiffly.

  “Sure,” he said, and stepped aside. From the tight lines around her eyes and mouth, he could tell she hadn’t had a good day. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, and she looked in desperate need of sleep. He wondered what was so important that it couldn’t wait.

  Chrissie peered inside the small cabin and shook her head. “Not here.”

  “Where, then?” he asked, not quite concealing his irritation.

  “Can you meet me at the Hard Luck Café in fifteen minutes?”

  He hesitated, thinking this probably wasn’t the optimal time for them to discuss anything. Not with her so tired she could barely keep her eyes open and with him feeling so on edge. Despite that, he was curious. “I’ll be there,” he said briskly.

  “I’ll get us a booth.”

  He closed the door, then rubbed his face. Something was up, and he was about to learn what. It took him almost the full fifteen minutes to find his shoes, socks and gather his scattered wits.

  The September wind cut into him as he hurried toward the café. As promised, Chrissie was sitting in a corner booth, her hands clutching a mug. The lunch crowd had disappeared, with only one or two stragglers. Ben and Mary stared at him, their curiosity as keen as his own.

  “She’s been here all of five minutes,” Ben whispered when Scott stopped to collect his own coffee.

  “Looking at her watch every few seconds,” Mary added.

  “She wants to talk to me,” Scott muttered.

  “We’ll see that you have as much privacy as you need,” Mary assured him.

  “You settle this once and for all,” Ben said. “You’re both miserable, and the whole town with you.”

  Scott had to grin. “I’ll do my best.”

  He carried his coffee to the booth and slid in across from Chrissie. “You have something to say?”

  “I do.” Her back was ramrod-straight, her arms unbending as she held her coffee away from her, both hands still clamped around the mug.

  Scott waited for several minutes, his patience wearing thin when she didn’t speak.

  “Are you aware,” she finally said, keeping her gaze focused on the table, “that we have a problem?”

  “What do you mean?” He wasn’t being sarcastic, just inquisitive.

  “Did you notice how everyone was there at the airfield?”

  He’d noticed, all right.

  “How did that make you feel?” she asked.

  He shrugged, wondering if there was a correct answer. “Uncomfortable, I guess.”

  “Embarrassed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me, too.” Her look softened perceptibly.

  “Everyone was expecting something from us.”

  “They weren’t interested in your American Express card,” he said in a weak attempt at a joke.

  “No,” she told him, with not even a hint of humor. “What they were looking for was some sign from us.”

  “True,” he admitted, refusing to sound defensive, “and we gave it to them, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, we sure did,” she returned.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  She glared at him as though he should have figured it out long ago. “The problem is, we’ve disappointed the whole town.”

  His friends and family weren’t nearly as disappointed as Scott was himself, but he didn’t mention that. As far as he was concerned, he’d already laid his heart on the line. He’d told Chrissie he loved her and she’d laughed in his face. His pride had reached its quota for abuse; he wasn’t willing to accept more.

  “I feel that we can’t both remain in Hard Luck,” she announced.

  “What?”

  “Just as I said. One of us has to leave.”

  So this was what her meeting was all about. She wanted him out of Hard Luck. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. This was his home, his life, and he wouldn’t let Chrissie screw it up. Not when he’d done such a stellar job of that himself. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d only recently found his way back.

  His face hardened and so did his heart. “You’re asking me to leave.”

  Chrissie’s eyes widened. “No!”

  Her answer perplexed him. “What do you want, then?”

  “I…I’d never ask that of you, Scott. I’ll be the one to move. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and it makes perfect sense for me to leave town. I have connections in Fairbanks and then there’s Joelle and…”

  She rattled on, but the longer she spoke the more Scott realized how close she was to tears.

  “Chrissie,” he said, interrupting her, “why are you doing this?”

  She stopped abruptly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, and she blinked in an effort to hide them. Scott’s frustration and anger melted away, and he resisted the impulse to reach across the table and touch her cheek, comfort her somehow. What prevented him was knowing she’d resent any display of affection. He clenched his hands into fists and said, “You’re not thinking straight. Listen, go home, get some sleep, and we can talk about this later.”

  “No. My mind’s made up. One of us has to leave, and it has to be me.”

  “You’re overreacting.” After a good night’s sleep she’d see that and regret this entire conversation. “This is an important decision. Let’s sleep on it before you—or I—do something rash.”

  “No,” she said again, her voice gaining strength. “You don’t understand.”

  “What I understand is that you’ve gone thirty hours without sleep, and now isn’t the time to make such a critical decision.”

  “But I know exactly what I’m doing,” she insisted.

  “Why should you be the one to move?” he demanded, completely losing his patience. “You’ve lived here your whole life. This is your home. If anyone goes, it should be me.”

  Chrissie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I love you,” she whispered. “I won’t let you leave.”

  Scott was sure he’d misunderstood her. “You…love me?”

  Her eyes flared as though she didn’t realize what she’d said. “You’ve just come back. It’s been a long time, and…and you can’t. You’re a partner in Midnight Sons. The papers have been drawn up an
d…” She shrugged. “It just makes sense that I be the one to go.”

  “What has any of that got to do with you loving me?” He wasn’t about to drop the subject, no matter how hard she tried to talk around it.

  She ignored the question and continued. “I’m getting to the point in my career where my practice is growing. I fly into Fairbanks regularly on business. It’s logical that I live there, so I’ll go.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It…was a slip of the tongue,” she said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t mean it.”

  Scott relaxed against the vinyl cushion and slowly smiled. “You never were much good at lying.”

  Her eyes grew wide and her face reddened as she sputtered, “But…but—”

  “You love me, Chrissie. You’ve always loved me.”

  She shook her head, refusing to respond.

  “I should’ve known it when I kissed you. I would have, too, if I hadn’t been so caught up in what was happening. It was all I could do to keep from making love to you right then and there.”

  “As if I’d let you,” she sniffed.

  She seemed ready to slide out of the booth, and Scott reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

  Chrissie’s gaze shot to his.

  “I have a better suggestion about how to settle this. A compromise.” He had her attention now. “One in which neither of us has to move away from Hard Luck.”

  She didn’t ask what he meant, but he sensed her interest. He hesitated, debating the wisdom of what he was about to do. Experience had taught him to be wary with Chrissie—but then, she had a right to mistrust him.

  “Marry me,” he said simply.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Marry you?” she echoed at last.

  “I love you.” He wouldn’t add any embellishments, nor would he offer her unnecessary compliments. If she couldn’t already see that he was speaking from his heart, then anything else he had to say wouldn’t help his cause.

  “Scott…like you said, we need to sleep on it. We’re both tired. It was an exhausting night—”

  “I don’t need to sleep on it. I love you, Chrissie. I want to make you my wife. I want us both to live here in Hard Luck, to raise our children here, to grow old here. Together.”