“You know what they say about the men in Alaska,” her mother muttered.
“Yes, Mom, I’ve heard all the jokes. Alaska—where the odds are good but the goods are odd.”
Her mother chuckled. “I hope you pay close attention to that one.”
“Alaska,” Jenna said, her voice sarcastic, “where the men are men and so are the women.”
Her mother giggled again.
“Dalton told me those, Mom. He wants me to be prepared.”
“Did he happen to mention what the winters are like in Fairbanks? It’s November, Jenna, and they have storms there, blizzards that last for days. You could freeze to death walking from the plane into the terminal. When I think of what could happen, I—”
“You don’t need to worry, Mom. Dalton sent me books and it isn’t Fairbanks, it’s Beesley. I’m flying into Fairbanks, where Dalton’s meeting me.”
“Did he pay for your airfare?”
“I wouldn’t let him do that!” Jenna was surprised her mother would ask such a question. She had more sense than that and more pride too.
“Thank God for small favors.”
“I’m not changing my mind, Mom.”
“Jenna, oh, Jenna,” her mother cried and slowed to twenty-five-miles an hour, which made even more cars blare their horns, not that her mother was aware of it. “Why couldn’t you be like other daughters who cause their mothers grief and heartache from the ages of thirteen to thirty? It makes no sense that a daughter of mine would turn into this model of virtue.” Chloe shook her head. “Why did you wait till thirty-one to shock me like this? I’m not used to worrying about you.”
“I know, Mom.”
“By your age I’d been married and divorced twice. You were twenty before you went out on your first date.”
“I was not,” Jenna protested, her cheeks heating. “I was eighteen.”
“At ten you were more adult than I was.”
“One of us had to be.”
Her mother sighed, acknowledging the truth.
Jenna didn’t understand Chloe’s reaction. “I’d think you’d be pleased that I’m doing something exciting.”
“But I’m not,” her mother wailed. “Oh, Jenna,” she sobbed, “what am I going to do without you?”
“Oh, Mom…”
“My divorce from Greg was final last month. You know how I get without a man in my life.”
Jenna did know. Husband number five had bit the dust, but considering her mother, it wouldn’t be long before she found the next man of her dreams. Dream man number six, no doubt a replica of the previous five. All of whom, Chloe had believed, would rescue her from the drudgery and hardships of life. Without a man she was lost. She preferred them rich and—Jenna hesitated to use the word stupid, but frankly her mother had yet to choose a husband with any common sense, let alone advanced brain power. If they did happen to have money, it never lasted for more than a few years.
Her mother frowned, shifting her eyes from the road to look at her daughter. “I can’t go to Alaska, Jenna, I just can’t. You know I have to be around sunshine. I could never take the cold.”
“I know, Mom, but I’m not sure if I’ll even be living there.”
“You’re leaving me,” she murmured in a hurt little-girl voice. “You’re going to marry Doug—”
“Dalton.”
“All right, Dalton, and you’re going to love Alaska.” She said it with such finality that Jenna might as well be wearing a wedding band. Jenna pictured Dalton eagerly waiting for her at the Fairbanks Airport, with a diamond engagement ring in his pocket and a romantic proposal committed to memory. It wasn’t a likely scenario, but Jenna figured she was allowed to dream.
This romantic fantasy had originally been intended for her boss, but if Brad hadn’t even asked her out in six years, then it simply wasn’t happening. Jenna was furious at herself for all that wasted time.
Her mother bit her lower lip. “Why can’t I hold on to a man? I should’ve known better than to marry again. He’s a crook.”
“Greg isn’t a crook, he’s just, uh, creative when it comes to employment opportunities.”
Her mother snickered and let the comment pass. “You’ll phone me the moment you arrive in Fairbanks?” She turned and cast Jenna a pleading glance.
“Of course I will.”
“What do you want me to tell Brad Fulton when he calls?”
Jenna stared out the passenger-side window. “Mr. Fulton isn’t going to call you, Mom.”
Her mother laughed. “Trust me, he’ll call. He doesn’t realize how valuable you are, otherwise he would never have let you go.”
“Ms. Spencer is every bit as good an administrator as I am.” In some ways, the middle-aged Gail Spencer was more efficient than Jenna because she wouldn’t be tempted to fall in love with her boss.
After a long silence, Chloe murmured, “Just promise me you won’t name any of your children after Dalton.”
“Mom, you’re making too much of this.” Nonetheless, Jenna prayed the relationship would fulfill the promise of those countless e-mails. She’d stumbled across Dalton in a poetry chat room and they’d connected immediately. After two months of chatting daily, of quoting Emily Dickinson and discussing the Shakespearian sonnets, Dalton had wooed her with his own sensitive words. Eventually they’d exchanged snapshots. Jenna had studied Dalton’s photograph, memorizing every feature. He stood stiffly by a nondescript building and stared into the camera. It was difficult to tell if he was handsome in the conventional sense because he had a full beard, but his deep blue eyes seemed sharp and intelligent. He wore a wool cap, a red plaid shirt and heavy boots; his arms were crossed over his chest as if to say he wasn’t accustomed to having his photo taken. She’d sent him her photograph, too, although he’d insisted looks weren’t important. Dalton said what was inside a person was all that counted. He possessed a poet’s heart, although Jenna had a hard time equating this with the rough-looking figure in the workingman’s clothes.
She sent her picture for practical reasons. He needed to be able to identify her when she stepped off the plane. She, too, stood facing the camera in her work uniform—a gray jacket and straight skirt. She’d worn her hair pulled away from her face, revealing features she’d always considered plain, although Kim called her looks “classic.” Her hair was a mousy shade of brown that she detested and usually lightened, but it’d been due for a treatment just then. When Dalton had e-mailed back that his first look at her photo had stolen his breath—only he’d said it much more poetically—she knew he was the one.
The exit for L.A. International came into view, and her mother slowed. Irritated drivers honked their horns as the road narrowed to a single lane; cars were backed up all the way to the freeway.
“You have a place to stay?”
“Dalton’s arranging that.”
“You sincerely like this man?” Her mother’s voice softened with the question.
“Yes, Mom, very much.”
Her mother gave a shaky smile. “You’ve always been a good judge of character. But, Jenna, I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’m going to miss you, too.” Unlike her own life, her mother’s was never dull. Even now, as she entered her midfifties, Chloe “Moon Flower” Campbell Roper Haggard Sullivan Lyman was an attractive, desirable woman who never lacked for attention from the opposite sex.
Her mother followed the directions to the departure area and angled between two buses and a taxicab jockeying for position. From the way she’d parked, anyone might assume she intended to drive directly into the airport.
Leaping out of the car, her mother raced around to the passenger side and hugged Jenna hard before she could even unfasten her seat belt. The death grip around her neck made it impossible to climb out. “Mother,” she protested.
“You can’t go!”
“Mom, we’ve already been through this.”
“I know, I know…I’ve begged you to loosen up for years and now w
hen you do something crazy, as crazy as I would myself, I don’t want you to.”
“You have no choice, Mother. I’m leaving.” Jenna finally managed to remove Chloe’s arms from around her neck and got out of the car.
“For Dalton?” Her mother cringed as she said the name.
“For Dalton.” For life and adventure and all the things she’d missed out on, being the responsible one from far too young an age.
Her mother stepped aside as Jenna pulled her large suitcase from the back seat.
They hugged, and Jenna entered the airport. Unable to resist, she turned back for one last look and noticed an airport security guard speaking to her mother. The two appeared to be arguing and the man withdrew a book from his hip pocket and started to write a ticket.
Jenna’s first inclination was to race outside and rescue her mother as she had countless times. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to turn away. Her mother would have to cope without her.
Their lives were about to change. Jenna realized these adjustments were long overdue. For much of her life—except for brief periods during Chloe’s marriages—she’d been the one taking care of her mother. She’d provided emotional support, handled practical details and kept track of their lives. No wonder she was so good at organizing her boss, she often thought.
The first part of her journey was uneventful and relaxing. She had a plane change in Seattle, where she boarded the flight for Fairbanks. She was assigned the window seat. The man sitting beside her had a beard similar to Dalton’s. He was also dressed in a similar manner.
“Hello,” she said, hoping to make polite conversation as a prelude to asking him a few questions.
He muttered something and stuffed his bag into the overhead compartment, then settled in the seat, taking more than his share of the arm space. She glanced around, hoping she could get another seat, but unfortunately the flight was full.
“Do you live in Alaska?”
He scowled at her and leaned back. Within seconds he was snoring. How rude!
Midway through the flight, she had to get up to use the rest room. He grumbled when he was forced to straighten so she could pass.
“Excuse me,” she said as she exited the row.
He complained again when she returned, only louder.
Jenna frowned. Dalton had told her about men like this. They flew down to the lower forty-eight, squandered their money on women and booze, and then returned to Alaska hungover and broke.
Jenna tried to read but her eyes grew heavy; she closed her magazine and felt herself drift off. She’d been up late, too excited to go to bed, carefully selecting what she’d take with her. Dalton had been wonderful, offering suggestions and assuring her he’d be at the gate when she landed.
The next thing she knew, Jenna was jarred awake. Her head rested on something hard and unyielding, and the man’s voice in her ear was—Man’s voice? She jerked upright and to her dismay discovered that she’d pressed her head against her companion’s shoulder.
“Sorry…” she whispered, too embarrassed to look at him.
“I wasn’t complaining.”
She stared out the window rather than face him.
“What’s the matter? Did your own snoring wake you up?”
Jenna clenched her jaw. “I don’t snore.” He was the one with the problem, not her.
“Believe what you want, but you’re right up there with my lumberjack friends.”
She did look at him then, giving him a blistering stare. “Are you always so rude or is this strictly for my benefit?”
He grinned, apparently enjoying himself.
“For your information I do not snore.”
“Whatever you say.” Not bothering to hide his amusement, he crossed his arms.
Just her luck to sit next to this Neanderthal. This large Neanderthal.
Then, to Jenna’s relief, the pilot announced that the flight was about to land. She reached for her purse and freshened her makeup, all the while conscious of her companion closely studying her. She ignored him as best she could, until the plane landed at the terminal.
As she left the plane, her heart racing with excitement, Jenna reflected that this was the moment she’d been waiting for all these months. At last she’d be meeting Dalton Gray. Dalton—strong and responsible yet sensitive, a rugged man of the outdoors who’d won her heart.
The cold air that blasted her as soon as she stepped into the jetway came as a shock. Dalton had warned her that the temperature often dipped below freezing in November. The cold actually brought tears to her eyes.
The airport’s warmth was more than welcome. Walking inside, she looked around, a smile on her lips. Two feet past the secure area, she stopped, and then slowly, guardedly, moved forward. She surveyed the room, searching for Dalton. He’d said he’d be there to meet her. Promised he would. Nothing would keep him away, he’d told her. Gold could be found on his property, oil could spurt from the ground, but he’d be at the airport waiting for her.
Only he wasn’t.
Chapter Two
Reid Jamison followed the blonde out of the airplane, wryly shaking his head. God save him from uppity women, and that one was about as uppity as a woman got. Uppity and a real Miss Priss.
She stood in the middle of the waiting area, obviously looking for someone. Reid strolled past her, headed for the baggage claim. He had another flight to go before he got home, and he hoped to fly out of Fairbanks before dark. First, however, he needed to collect his luggage and grab something to eat. With the airlines cutting back, one of the first casualties was the meals, not that they’d ever been that spectacular.
Unfortunately, his bag was one of the last to appear and he had to stand around and wait while all the passengers retrieved their suitcases and made a fast escape. His seatmate hung around, too, he noticed, although her bag had been one of the first to arrive. She looked anxiously about, then after a few minutes walked over to the phone. Whoever she called didn’t have a lot to say, because she hung up shortly afterward.
The minute he had his bag, Reid hurried over to the cafeteria. The food wasn’t great, and it was damned expensive, but he had few options. A couple of sandwiches from the airport restaurant would fill his stomach until he got home.
“How you doin’, Reid?” Billy asked when he’d placed the pre-made, pre-wrapped sandwiches on his tray as well as a cup of coffee.
Reid spent enough time at the airport to be on a first-name basis with a number of people. Billy was a good guy, retired from construction, who worked part-time at the airport to make entertainment money. Mostly he blew his wages on poker. Reid had played with him a time or two, and had suggested Billy keep his day job. “Good to be home.” Almost home, he amended silently.
“Where you comin’ back from this time?” Billy asked.
“Seattle.” Reid sipped his coffee. It was hot enough to burn his mouth, but he didn’t care. “You wouldn’t believe what those Seattle folks are doing to ruin a good cup of coffee.”
Billy chuckled and gave Reid his change. “You flyin’ out tonight?”
Reid nodded, took his tray and sat down at the table by the window. His Cessna 182 was parked below. It was comforting to think he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight and not some too-soft mattress in an anonymous hotel room.
He ate the first turkey sandwich without stopping, then started on the second.
His seatmate from the flight came into the cafeteria and scanned the almost empty room. She seemed even more forlorn than she had before. He watched as she took a tray, walking past all the food on display. Then, as if she hadn’t found a single thing to tempt her appetite, she simply poured herself a cup of coffee. She began talking to Billy, and they were engaged in conversation for at least ten minutes.
“Reid, you’re flyin’ right over Beesley, aren’t you?” Billy called across the cafeteria. The two other customers, a pilot and a lumberjack, both grinned.
“Yeah.”
“Do
you mind givin’ the little lady here a lift?”
Now this was downright interesting.
Miss Priss peered over her shoulder. When she saw him, she jerked back and started talking animatedly to Billy. Billy shook his head repeatedly but apparently couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It was enough to arouse Reid’s curiosity. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done that took five minutes to describe, complete with agitated gestures. He couldn’t help it; he had to find out. He stood and walked over to the cashier just in time to hear Billy tell Miss Priss that Reid worked on the Alaska Pipeline and was a fine, upstanding citizen.
“You going to Beesley?” Reid asked the woman.
She raised her chin an extra notch. “How much will it cost for you to fly me there?”
“He’s one of the best bush pilots around, miss,” Billy rushed to assure her.
“Cost?” Reid shrugged. “I’m flying that way myself. It’s no trouble to land and let you off.”
She blinked as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him. “You’d do that?”
“Folks in Alaska are neighborly,” he said. “We lend a hand when we can.”
She offered him a tentative smile, which transformed her features, made her seem softer, somehow. He was struck by what an attractive woman she was. All he’d noticed earlier had been the disapproving look in her eyes every time she happened to glance in his direction.
“You ready to leave now?”
She nodded. “That would be great. I have no idea what happened…. My friend was supposed to be here. I phoned his place, but apparently he’s already left.”
“Not to worry, I’ll get you to Beesley.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” She was all sweetness now, he thought wryly. Women were like that. Sweet as honey when they needed a man, and sour as lemons when they didn’t. He’d dated but not much. There weren’t any women in Snowbound. No single women, anyway. In fact, Snowbound was a one-woman town, and that one woman happened to be his younger sister. She’d tried to set him up with friends of hers from Fairbanks a few times, but nothing ever came of it.
On a Snowy Night: The Christmas BasketThe Snow Bride Page 16
