Alaska Home

by Debbie Macomber

  “Will Duke have a problem with it?” he asked, scanning the room.

  “I’m sure he won’t, since he’s dancing with Angie Hughes.”

  Mariah had no idea whether Duke was or not, but it sounded good.

  A ballad, a slow, melancholy song about tormented lovers, had just begun. Christian drew her into his arms and held her loosely.

  “How are your hands?” he asked in a concerned voice.

  “Fine. Dotty says the bandages can come off tomorrow.” Her head moved closer to his, and was soon tucked beneath his chin. It seemed so perfect, so natural, to be in his embrace like this.

  “Is everything working out for you at the lodge?”

  He certainly seemed full of questions. For her part, Mariah would’ve preferred to close her eyes and give herself over to the music. And the dream.

  “Karen and Matt have been wonderful. I—I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. Everyone’s been so good to me.” It was true—almost everyone had stopped by to see her, to wish her well. While she hadn’t made any decisions about rebuilding, she felt the support of her friends and, in fact, the whole community.

  “If you need anything...”

  “I don’t,” and because he couldn’t seem to take a hint, Mariah started to hum along with the song.

  “That’s a nice song, isn’t it?” Christian asked next.

  Mariah groaned. “Christian,” she whispered. “Please shut up.”

  He tensed, then chuckled lightly. It was probably the boldest thing she’d ever said to him, but Mariah didn’t care. This was her fantasy, and she wasn’t about to let him ruin it with idle chatter.

  If he did insist on making small talk, she wanted him to tell her how beautiful she looked. She’d flown into Fairbanks a week ago to buy some new clothes, and it wasn’t Duke she was thinking of when she chose the denim skirt with the white eyelet hem. Nor was it the prospect of an evening with Duke that had prompted her to dab on her brand-new—and terribly expensive—French perfume.

  Her smile sagged with disappointment. She should’ve known Christian wouldn’t live up to her fantasy. Shaking her head, Mariah smiled softly to herself.

  “Something amuses you?”

  “You aren’t supposed to talk,” she reminded him.

  He brought back his head just enough to look at her.

  “This is my fantasy,” she announced without thinking.

  “Your fantasy?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me,” he said.

  He was going to ruin everything with this incessant talking. “Just shut up and hold me.”

  His laughter stirred the hair at her temple, but she noticed that his arms tightened fractionally around her.

  “What about kissing you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered eagerly. But because she didn’t want to be the focus of any further attention, she added, “Not here, though.”

  “Is that part of the fantasy, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have someplace special in mind?” he asked. “For me to kiss you, that is.”

  Anywhere but on the dance floor. She wasn’t given an opportunity to say more, however, because they were interrupted by Lanni and Charles.

  “Christian. It’s about time you showed up. Where’ve you been all evening?” Charles asked.

  “Around,” Christian answered shortly.

  Mariah saw that he attempted to steer her away, but they were trapped in a maze of other couples.

  “Mariah, that’s a lovely color on you,” Lanni commented, gesturing at her pale blue silk blouse.

  “Thanks.” She cast a forlorn look at Christian.

  “Listen—”

  “Stop,” Christian said to his brother, holding up one hand. “We don’t mean to be rude, but you’re interrupting a dream here.”

  “A dream?” Charles repeated. He apparently thought this was some kind of joke.

  “A fantasy,” Mariah elaborated. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to keep talking but the words seemed to flow without volition. “Christian was about to kiss me, and he can’t do that if folks are going to interrupt us.”

  Charles burst out laughing, but stopped abruptly when Lanni glared at him. “Sorry.”

  “There,” Christian whispered to Mariah, “is that better?” He smiled down at her, and the compulsion to stand on tiptoe and thank him with a kiss was a powerful one indeed.

  As Lanni and Charles tactfully withdrew, Mariah felt a moment’s horror—an intrusion of reality. “I can’t believe I said that—about the fantasy.”

  Christian blinked a couple of times. “I can’t believe I said what I did, either.” Then he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Oh, well...” He smiled roguishly.

  Mariah smiled back, and awaited his kiss. Then, in plain view of his oldest brother and the entire community, Christian cupped the back of her head and eased his mouth toward Mariah’s. His lips met hers with a tenderness that made her go limp in his arms. Soon they gave up the pretense of dancing altogether.

  He ended the kiss with a reluctance that said he’d thoroughly enjoyed being part of her fantasy. She knew he wanted to continue—and would have, had they been anyplace else. She opened her eyes slowly and noticed that he was studying her, a baffled look on his face.

  The music ended.

  Christian dropped his arms and took a step back. “Thank you for the dance,” he said when he’d escorted her to her chair.

  Duke approached them, looking smug. “I see you’re trying to steal my date.” But his tone was humorous, and there was no sign of rancor.

  Christian seemed decidedly uncomfortable. “Would it be all right if I talked to Mariah for a minute?”

  “Are you sure all you’re going to do is talk?”

  “Yes.” Christian sighed.

  “Someone might ask me how I feel,” Mariah suggested in a low voice. She sat down to remove her shoes, but her feet were swollen, and she had to yank the shoes back and forth to pull them off her feet.

  By the time she’d finished, Christian had returned with two glasses of punch. He sat down next to her and cleared his throat. “I started this conversation by thanking you. It would’ve hurt Midnight Sons badly to lose Duke.” He downed the entire contents of his glass in one swallow. His gaze seemed fixed on a point at the opposite side of the gym.

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Would you be willing to help us again?” he asked, glancing briefly at her.

  “How?”

  “I offered Duke a twenty percent increase in his wages if he’d stay on. I’d be willing to make the same deal with you if you’d come back and work for Midnight Sons.”

  Mariah gasped. The request itself didn’t shock her, but she took offense at the inducement he’d used. “Is that what the kiss was all about?” she asked, struggling to hold in her anger.

  “No.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I swear the kiss had nothing to do with this.” His face fell. “I’m sorry, Mariah,” he said, vaulting to his feet. “I really bungled that. You must think I’m a complete jerk. Forget I asked.” He started to walk away and she stopped him.

  “Christian.”

  He whirled around, and his expression was so hopeful she had to restrain herself from laughing.

  “I haven’t made any long-term plans yet. The fire...well, it raised a number of questions regarding my future.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll come back to Midnight Sons on two conditions.”

  “Name them.”

  “One, Ben has to give his permission, because technically I still work for him.”

  “No problem. Ben’s a good friend, and he knows Sawyer and I are going crazy without you.”

  She smiled, agreeing that Ben
would willingly let her go. Although he appreciated her help, it was all too apparent that she wasn’t cut out for waitressing.

  “Second,” she said, “I’ll only agree to work for you—”

  “Great!”

  “Wait, I haven’t finished.”

  The look on his face was almost comically expectant.

  “I’ll work for you,” she said, “but only until you can find a permanent replacement.”

  Eight

  When Christian entered the Midnight Sons office Tuesday morning, he was met by the welcoming scent of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

  “Good morning, Christian,” Mariah said cheerfully.

  It was all he could do not to close his eyes and exhale a deep, fervent breath of relief. His life was about to return to normal. Mariah was back. The temptation to kiss her—to show her how grateful he was—nearly overwhelmed him.

  “Would you care for some coffee?” she asked, automatically pouring him a cup.

  “Please.” Christian saw that her hands had been freed from the bulky bandages. Gauze was lightly wrapped around her palms, giving her the use of her fingers.

  He sat down at his desk and resisted the urge to lace his hands behind his head and prop his feet up. He figured Mariah might perceive that as overconfidence, and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy her.

  “Here you go,” she murmured, setting the mug down in front of him.

  Christian beamed her a smile of heartfelt appreciation. At his first sip, however, he grimaced. She’d added cream and sugar. Still, his disappointment was minimal; she could’ve added horseradish and he wouldn’t have complained. In time, maybe ten or twenty years, she’d learn he liked his coffee black.

  Mariah was back, and right now that was all that mattered.

  The morning sped past with such ease it was well after noon before Christian noticed the time.

  “I’m going over to Ben’s for lunch,” he told his brother.

  “Okay,” Sawyer answered distractedly. “Don’t forget this is my afternoon off. I’m flying Abbey in for an ultrasound later.”

  “I didn’t forget.” Christian smiled to himself. His brother made a great father.

  Ben was busy flipping hamburgers on the griddle when Christian walked into the café. “You can put on an extra burger for me,” he called, and hopped onto a stool.

  “You want fries with that?” Ben called back.

  Christian shook his head. “Do you have any potato salad?”

  “Not today,” Ben told him. “How about macaroni?”

  “Sure.” He was easy to please, especially today.

  The bell over the door chimed, and Charles walked in. He sat on the stool next to Christian. “You alone?” he asked.

  Christian looked pointedly at the empty stool on his other side. “So it seems. What makes you ask?”

  Charles shrugged and pulled the menu from behind the sugar canister. “I thought you might be taking Mariah to lunch,” he said absently as he scanned the selections he’d seen perhaps a thousand times before.

  “Why would I do that?” Christian asked, finding the question odd.

  “Why not? You’re the one who was kissing her in the middle of the school gymnasium. I assumed you two were an item now.”

  Ben walked past them to a middle-aged couple sitting at a table in the back of the café. “Be right with you, Charles.”

  “No problem.”

  “Mariah and I are not an item,” Christian said evenly. The kiss meant nothing. He had half a mind to explain that he was just playing along with that little fantasy of hers, but decided against it. His explanation would only give his brother extra ammunition.

  Charles arched one brow. “If you say so.”

  “I do,” Christian said. It annoyed him that his own brother, someone whose judgment he trusted, hadn’t been able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality, between a “dream” kiss and waking love.

  Fortunately Ben delivered his hamburger at that moment. He took Charles’s order, then promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I talked to Mom this morning,” Charles announced.

  They didn’t often hear from their mother. Christian made an effort to call Ellen once or twice a month—had, in fact, visited her a few weeks earlier—but she’d remarried and lived a full life in British Columbia now. She loved to travel and took frequent trips with her new husband. Books remained an important part of her life, especially since Robert owned several bookstores. She was independent of her sons now and very much her own woman.

  “She said something curious,” Charles murmured thoughtfully; he seemed a bit awed, even shaken. “She was telling me how much she enjoyed having Scott and Susan with her. Then, out of the blue, she said that the three of us were her...connection to life.”

  Christian frowned. “Her connection to life?”

  “Yes. Now that both Sawyer and I are married and Abbey’s pregnant, she said she’s begun to feel freer to keep in touch with us. To reach out more often. Apparently she was afraid of intruding in our lives.”

  “There’s no need for her to feel that way.”

  “That’s what I told her, but she dismissed it. She told me she’s had to stop herself for years from playing too large a role in our lives. Frankly I don’t understand it. I thought she preferred to keep her distance. I don’t know about you, but I had the feeling the three of us were reminders of all those unhappy years she lived in Hard Luck.”

  “They weren’t all unhappy.”

  “Perhaps not, but it seemed that way,” Charles said. “I assumed that because she has a new life now, she’s comfortable with the separation.”

  “Yes and no.” Christian, as the son closest to his mother, spoke with a certain authority.

  “I told her that,” Charles said, smiling, “and you should’ve heard the lecture I got. It was pointed out to me that, as her children, we represent her past, share her present and form her future. That’s the connection-to-life stuff she was talking about.”

  “Sounds as though you two cleared the air.”

  “Yes,” Charles agreed, “only I wasn’t aware we’d been at odds.”

  “You weren’t,” Christian assured him. “All you both needed was a bit of...clarification.”

  Charles said nothing more for a moment. Then, finally, “She loved him, you know.”

  “Dad?”

  Charles nodded. “For a time I wondered about that, but I realize now how deeply she cared for him. It wasn’t a perfect marriage, but they loved each other in their own ways.”

  “No marriage is perfect,” Christian muttered, and bit into his hamburger. He’d leave all that happy-ever-after stuff to Charles and Sawyer. He was thirty-one and had no intention of settling down. Not for a good long while, anyway.

  “I don’t know about no marriage being perfect,” Charles said, grinning broadly. “But I’m happy with the current state of mine.”

  “Sure—you and Lanni are newlyweds.”

  Charles shook his head in a kind of wonder. “It seems like we’ve always been together. I’m happy, Chris, happier than I can remember being in many years.”

  Christian was pleased for his brother, but he reminded himself again that married life wasn’t for him.

  “Here you are,” Ben said, bringing Charles his turkey sandwich. “Now I can take a load off my feet.” He pulled up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the counter. “I’ve been busier than a one-handed piano player,” he said with a heavy sigh.

  “Do you miss Mariah?” Christian asked, feeling slightly guilty.

  “What do you think?” Ben responded. “Of course I miss her. She might have confused orders and broken a few dishes, but she lent a willing hand. And the customers loved her—not to menti
on her pies. Fact is, I’m going to hire someone else as soon as I can get around to it.”

  “Good,” Charles murmured between bites. “It’s about time you did.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying.” Ben wiped his brow with his forearm.

  Christian finished his burger and slid the empty plate away. Ben reached for the dish and added it to a stack behind the counter. “People have been talking about you and Mariah all morning,” he said casually. “You sure have set tongues wagging.” Ben chuckled. “What’s this I hear about you kissing her in front of half the town?”

  Christian ignored the question. “Talking? Who’s talking, and what are they saying?”

  “Most folks around here seem to think you two’re as good as married.”

  Charles burst out laughing. “That’s what you get, little brother. If you don’t want people to talk, then you shouldn’t dance with Mariah again. Especially if you’re going to take part in her fantasies.”

  “It’s not like that,” Christian told Ben, pretending he hadn’t heard Charles. “Mariah and I are...friends. Good friends. Nothing more.”

  “Sawyer and I are brothers and friends,” Charles said lightly, “but you don’t see me kissing him.”

  “Very funny,” Christian muttered sarcastically.

  He wasn’t about to get involved in a verbal battle with Charles and Ben. He’d let them have their fun. They could think what they wanted, but he knew the truth—and for that matter, so did Mariah.

  Christian slipped off the stool, looked at his tab and slapped the money down on the counter. In his eagerness to make a clean getaway, he nearly collided with Bill Landgrin.

  They eyed each other warily. Bill hadn’t been at the Labor Day dance, and for that Christian was grateful.

  “Hello, Bill,” he said. Even if he didn’t think much of the other man, there was no need to be rude.

  Bill acknowledged the greeting with an inclination of his head. “I hear you’ve decided to marry Mariah, after all.”

  “What?” Christian exclaimed. He was getting frustrated with having to defend himself against this crazy talk. “Who told you that?” he demanded, and sent an accusing glare at Charles and Ben.