Alaska Home

by Debbie Macomber

  The morning was foggy and cold for the end of August. The mist felt cool and refreshing while he was on the ground, but icy crystals formed on the plane’s wings as he headed south.

  En route, his thoughts were once again filled with Mariah. True, he wanted her back as his secretary, but he didn’t dwell on that. His concern centered on the attention other men were giving her. Naturally, he wasn’t interested in her himself, but he didn’t want to see her make a mistake.

  Mariah was sweet and genuine, a bit naive and too darn trusting. At times he wondered if she had any sense, and at others he was astonished by her insight and sensitivity.

  The woman perplexed him.

  He touched down in Fairbanks and collected the mail, then flew straight back to Hard Luck. An hour later, he landed on the gravel runway.

  Duke was in the office waiting when Christian returned from unloading the cargo. The pilot glared at him. “You grounded me—again—because Mariah’s going to the dance with me, didn’t you?” His eyes fairly snapped with anger.

  The verbal attack caught Christian by surprise. He finished removing his black rayon jacket with its Midnight Sons logo on the back before he answered.

  “No, Duke, of course not! Didn’t you find my note?”

  “That didn’t explain anything. You took my run! You’re angry because Mariah is going to the dance with me.”

  “Where’s Sawyer?” He wasn’t ignoring the outburst, but needed to know where his brother had disappeared. With the office shorthanded, this was not the time for Sawyer to be yakking over coffee with Ben.

  “He stepped out for a couple of minutes. He’ll be back. Now answer me!”

  Christian exhaled forcefully.

  “You can’t, and we both know why,” snarled Duke. “I’ve been with Midnight Sons for more years than I want to remember. Until now, I’ve always considered you and Sawyer to be equitable and fair-minded employers. No longer.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper. “As of this moment, you have my notice.”

  “Your...notice?”

  “Yeah,” Duke said, his look colder than Christian had ever seen it. “I quit.” With that, he grabbed his leather jacket and stalked out the door.

  No sooner had Duke left than Sawyer walked in. “What’s the problem with Duke? He looked pretty mad.”

  “He is,” Christian said, and slumped down in his chair. “He just quit.”

  “What?” Sawyer exploded. “Quit? Why? Duke’s been with us almost from the beginning.”

  “I know.” Christian propped his elbows on the desk and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Everything he touched lately turned to dust. Because of him, Midnight Sons had lost Mariah, and now he was solely responsible for Duke’s leaving.

  Sawyer walked over and read Duke’s letter. The message was brief and to the point. Christian could picture the pilot sitting at the keyboard, tapping out the letter with one finger, swearing under his breath and getting angrier by the minute.

  “What happened?”

  Rather than go into a long and complicated explanation, Christian opted for a shorter version of the truth. “He’s upset about me taking the mail run this morning.” Christian rubbed a weary hand down his face. “Despite what he thinks, I didn’t do it to punish him.”

  “Punish him?” Sawyer sounded more confused than ever.

  “Duke seems to think that because he’s taking Mariah to the dance, I—”

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Christian insisted, close to losing his own patience now. “Why should I care if Duke takes Mariah to the Labor Day dance? I needed time to do some thinking, so I decided to do the mail run. How was I to know Duke would consider it a personal affront?”

  “I don’t believe this.” Sawyer walked from one end of the trailer to the other in agitated strides. “We—Midnight Sons—recruited women to Hard Luck well over a year ago, and everything’s gone pretty smoothly.

  “Some have come and gone, and others have stayed. The town’s thriving. There’s been construction all summer. New homes are going up. The lodge is repaired and open for business. John and Sally’s mobile home is up, and more are ordered. Midnight Sons started all this, and now Midnight Sons is going down the drain—just when we should be doing better than ever! Could someone kindly tell me why?”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sawyer continued, growing more impassioned. “We’ve had more complaints in the past two weeks than we’ve had in two years.”

  Mariah’s absence from the office would explain that.

  “Duke’s quitting, and he isn’t the only unhappy pilot we’ve got. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ralph left with him. We might lose Ted, too.”

  The pilots had been good friends for a lot of years, and Christian suspected his brother was right. This could result in a mass exodus.

  “I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “It’s me Duke’s upset with, not the business. I’ll give him a couple of hours to settle down, then I’ll approach him.”

  Sawyer’s icy glare thawed only a little. “So you’re going to take care of this?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Christian promised.

  * * *

  Sawyer needed to get out of the office and vent his frustration. He walked to the library, located in the log cabin that had once belonged to his grandfather. Abbey sat behind the desk, busy updating her meticulous files. She looked up and smiled warmly when he walked in.

  “My, oh my,” she greeted him. “Sure looks like you’re having one of those days.”

  “Duke handed in his notice.”

  It was almost comical to watch Abbey’s expressive eyes fill with shock. “Duke? But why? Something must have happened!”

  “Christian.” If it wasn’t so serious, Sawyer might’ve laughed over his younger brother’s condition. He recognized the symptoms, having experienced them himself a year earlier.

  Christian was falling in love.

  “What did he do this time?”

  Sawyer could see from the look on his wife’s face that she was fast losing patience with her brother-in-law.

  “He took the mail run himself, grounding Duke. Christian claimed he needed a chance to think, but Duke figured it was a form of punishment because he’d asked Mariah to the dance.”

  “Was it?”

  Sawyer pulled out a chair at the reading table, a recent addition to the library. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Christian may not be the most sensitive guy in the world, but he’d never intentionally do anything to upset the pilots or hurt the business.”

  “You know what’s wrong with him, don’t you?” Abbey asked.

  “I have my suspicions.”

  Abbey smiled, and for the life of him, Sawyer couldn’t take his eyes off her. She grew more beautiful every day, he thought, especially now that she was carrying his baby.

  “Christian’s in love.”

  Sawyer chuckled. “Was I this bad?”

  “Worse,” she said primly, leaving no room for doubt.

  “Oh, come on,” Sawyer returned. “You know what the real problem is? Christian’s the youngest of the family, and—”

  “Exactly,” Abbey cut in, “and his role models are you and Charles.” She shook her head. “The poor guy’s so confused he has no idea how to behave with a woman.”

  “What’s wrong with Charles and me?” Sawyer demanded.

  “You mean I have to explain it?” Abbey rolled her eyes. “Charles was willing to let Lanni walk out of his life—all because of an old family feud. And you, my fine husband, offered me one of the most insulting marriage proposals any woman could receive.”

  “I was desperate,” he said quickly.

&nbs
p; “My point exactly. With such pathetic examples, it’s no wonder Christian can’t decipher his feelings.”

  “I might not have said all the fancy words women like to read in those books,” he said, gesturing toward the romance section in the fiction department, “but I got my message across, didn’t I?”

  Her faced softened and she grinned, patting her rounded stomach. “You certainly did.”

  Sawyer had known he loved Abbey and her children a year ago, but his feelings then couldn’t compare with their intensity now. In retrospect, his life had been empty and shallow before he’d met Abbey. Her love gave him a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. Abbey and the children were his incentive to be the best husband and father—the best man—he could.

  “Maybe we should...help Christian,” Abbey suggested. “Subtly, of course. He’ll resist any obvious attempts to steer him in the right direction.”

  “Christian would resent it if we intruded.”

  Abbey looked disappointed. “You’re sure?”

  “It won’t do one bit of good, sweetheart,” Sawyer told her. “My brother’s got to figure this out all on his own, the same way Charles did.”

  “And you!”

  “And me,” Sawyer agreed with a grin.

  Abbey chewed on her lower lip. “It took Charles weeks, remember?”

  Sawyer wasn’t likely to forget. His older brother had walked around town like a wounded bear, snapping at everyone in his vicinity.

  “I just wonder...” Sawyer murmured.

  “What?”

  “If Midnight Sons will survive Christian’s falling in love.”

  * * *

  Duke was sitting glumly on the end of his bed when Christian let himself into the bunkhouse. He glanced up; as soon as he saw who it was, he looked away.

  “Got a minute?” Christian asked.

  Duke made a show of checking his watch. “I suppose.” He stood up and crossed to his locker, pulled out a duffel bag and started stuffing things into it.

  “I’d like to talk to you about leaving Midnight Sons.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you wanted to chat about the weather.”

  Duke’s back was to him, and Christian was having a hard time finding the right words. He was willing enough to apologize, only he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to apologize for.

  “Uh, taking your run this morning,” Christian began, broaching the topic tentatively. “I should’ve explained why I did that. I needed to think something over, and I do that best when I’m in the air.” The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears, but he’d swear on his father’s grave that he hadn’t been punishing Duke for asking Mariah to the dance.

  Duke whirled around to face him. “Tell me, Christian, do I look like a bloody secretary?”

  The question took him aback. “No. I don’t understand why you’d ask that?”

  “Well, what do you think I was doing for two and a half hours this morning? Answering the phone, looking for files, running errands.”

  “You didn’t need to do any of that.”

  “Well, Sawyer couldn’t do it all. He was rushing around all morning. What was I supposed to do, ignore the phone? I go in to complain about you taking my flight, and next thing I know I’m talking to some woman in Anchorage. She says she’s a travel agent and that she’s booked all these flights with us. I couldn’t find a darn thing in any of the files that says she did or didn’t.”

  “Did her name happen to be Penny Ferguson?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one,” Duke said, narrowing his eyes.

  Christian groaned and covered his face. He’d resign, too, if he’d been stuck on the phone with Penny, who was demanding and difficult.

  “I apologize,” Christian said. “I never intended for you to have to deal with Mrs. Ferguson.”

  “You mean she’s married?” Duke shook his head. “My condolences to Mr. Ferguson. The woman reminded me of that attorney friend of Mariah’s.”

  At the mention of her name, Christian cleared his throat. It was now or never. “Speaking of Mariah...” he began, uncertain where to head from there.

  “What’s with the two of you, anyway?” Duke asked. The anger had left his eyes, replaced with curiosity.

  “Nothing,” Christian said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

  Duke frowned, then shrugged. “If that’s what you say, who am I to argue?” He turned around and stuffed a shirt deep into his duffel bag.

  “About your letter of resignation,” Christian said cautiously. “I’m hoping I can get you to reconsider. You’re a valuable part of our business—probably one of the best pilots in all of Alaska.” A little flattery would probably help, although that statement wasn’t far from the truth.

  Duke didn’t respond.

  “I looked over the payroll file and noticed it was well past time for you to get a raise.”

  Duke faced him again, his interest obviously piqued. “What’re you offering?”

  In the last year or so, Midnight Sons had been doing good business. Very good. “Twenty percent increase in your base salary.”

  Duke’s eyes widened. “Okay! Mariah thought you’d only go for ten.” He clamped his mouth shut and flushed.

  Christian raised his eyebrows. “You discussed this with Mariah?”

  “Yeah,” Duke answered in a way that challenged him to make something of it. “She’s the one who talked me into staying. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have been out of here on the afternoon flight.” He shoved his duffel bag in the locker and slammed the door. “You might say I was a bit agitated when I left your office this morning. I stopped by the lodge, and Mariah and I had a long talk.”

  Christian would’ve liked to be a bug on the wall for that.

  “She’s loyal to you, Christian. Really loyal. The thing is, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

  At this point, neither was Christian.

  September 1996

  Music blared from several huge speakers strategically set about the polished hardwood floor. It was Labor Day, and Hard Luck’s school gymnasium was as crowded as it had been back when the state had built the school during the oil-rich years.

  Linen-covered tables arranged against the wall were laden with food left over from the earlier potluck. There were salads of all kinds and desserts to tempt the saints, and a dozen casseroles redolent with onion and garlic and savory herbs. Contributions to the feast had been so plentiful that by nine o’clock, enough food remained to feed everyone a second time.

  Mariah had made four apple pies, although Karen had peeled the apples. She was able to do most things for herself, although the bandages tended to frustrate her. But they’d be off soon, according to Dotty.

  Duke had been a thoughtful, devoted companion all evening, and after dinner, they’d danced a number of times.

  Schoolchildren raced with inexhaustible energy from one end of the room to the other. Several had removed their shoes and slipped and skidded across the slick floor.

  So far Mariah hadn’t seen Christian, and she was beginning to wonder if he’d make an appearance. And if he did, she wondered if he’d bring another woman to the festivities. Foolishly Mariah had dreamed of seeing Christian here; she’d dreamed that he’d take her in his arms, dance with her, kiss her... But that was all fantasy, she reminded herself.

  Christian probably wouldn’t even show up, but Mariah had given up second-guessing her former boss. The kisses they’d exchanged had been incredible, but as far as she could tell they meant nothing to Christian. Afterward, he’d looked repentant and even angry. Except the last time...

  Because her feet hurt from her new shoes, Mariah sat out the next dance. Duke, however, became involved in an imaginative free-form dance with Angie Hughes.

  “Hello, Mariah.” />
  “Christian...hello.” He’d snuck up on her. Her heart reacted with a leap of happiness.

  “How’s the dance going?” he asked, sitting in the empty chair beside her.

  “Great.” Her pulse reacted as if she’d been caught doing something illegal.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I understand I owe you a debt of thanks.”

  Her eyes opened wide in surprise. She couldn’t think clearly when he was this close. The light, spicy scent of his aftershave sent her senses reeling. She considered it grossly unfair that he should affect her like this when he clearly didn’t return her feelings.

  “Duke explained that you’d talked him into staying,” he continued.

  She shrugged, making light of her involvement.

  “I want you to know I appreciate it.” He hesitated and rubbed his hand down his thigh. “I don’t know what it is lately, but I seem to have developed a talent for making enemies.”

  “That’s not true.” As always she was prepared to defend him. “It wasn’t you Duke was angry with, but Mrs. Ferguson.”

  He smiled and seemed grateful for her support.

  “Have you eaten?” Mariah’s mother seemed to think food was a remedy for all problems, social or personal, and Mariah found herself falling back on that familiar solution. “Dotty’s salmon casserole is wonderful.” She regretted opening her mouth almost immediately. She strongly suspected that women like Allison Reynolds didn’t rave about someone’s salmon casserole.

  “I ate earlier,” he said.

  Everyone in the room seemed to be glancing their way with expressions of anticipation and curiosity. If Christian noticed he didn’t comment. It was all Mariah could do not to stand up and beg everyone to ignore them.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Mariah couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d proposed marriage. Her dream come true. “Yes—that would be very nice.” She forgot how much her feet hurt; at that moment she would gladly have walked across broken glass for the opportunity to be in Christian’s arms.

  Christian rose from his seat, then hesitated.

  He’d changed his mind. Mariah recognized that look.