Alaska Home

by Debbie Macomber

  “Not those two, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Bill told him.

  “Then who?” Rumors like this had to be stopped before they did damage.

  “Practically everyone I’ve talked to this morning. They all saw you kiss Mariah.”

  “Just because I kissed her doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her! That’s insane!”

  “Everyone knows how she feels about you.”

  “No way!” Christian said, unwilling to listen. After all, she’d accepted Duke’s invitation to the dance, which disproved that theory.

  “Why else do you think the single men in town haven’t beaten a path to her door?” Bill asked. “We knew it wouldn’t do any good, because she set her sights on you from the first moment she arrived. Oh, she was nice enough to the rest of us, but we all knew we didn’t stand a chance.”

  “If you believe she’s interested in me, then why’d you ask her to the dance?”

  “Because she wasn’t working for you anymore. I figured she’d given up beating her head against a brick wall, pining for you, but I was wrong. She’s as stuck on you as ever. Poor woman.”

  Christian chose to ignore the last part. “There’s nothing between Mariah and me.” He was getting tired of having to explain it.

  “That’s not what I hear.”

  “And I’m saying whatever you heard isn’t true.” Christian had to struggle to keep his voice level.

  “Then you don’t mind if the rest of us pursue her,” Bill asked, meeting his gaze evenly.

  Christian opened his mouth to object, to tell them he felt responsible for Mariah’s welfare, but then he closed it. If he did protest, Bill would discount everything he’d just said.

  “Sure,” he muttered, “but you don’t need my permission.” He’d talk to Mariah himself and offer her some advice regarding the so-called eligible men in Hard Luck.

  As soon as he could extricate himself from the conversation, Christian made his way back to the office.

  Duke had returned from the mail run into Fairbanks and was finishing up his paperwork when Christian stepped into the trailer. Mariah was nowhere in sight, and the pilot sat on a corner of her desk, one foot squarely planted on the floor, the other dangling. “So, how does it feel to have Mariah back?”

  Christian laughed. “Like a reprieve from the warden.”

  Duke set the clipboard aside. “Are you and Mariah going to make a formal announcement soon?”

  “A what?” Christian’s patience was shot. “Listen, Duke, I wish you and everyone else would get this straight. Mariah and I are not romantically involved. We never have been and we never will be.”

  The pilot didn’t bother to conceal his surprise. “You’re not?”

  “Absolutely not!” To Christian’s relief, Mariah came out from the back room just then. “Ask her yourself,” he said heatedly, gesturing in her direction.

  “Ask me what?” She looked from one man to the other.

  “There appears to be a rumor about us floating around town.” Christian folded his arms over his chest.

  “Well, if you two aren’t involved, what were you doing kissing in front of the entire town?” Duke asked.

  If Christian had to explain this one more time, he’d scream. “It wasn’t what it looked like!”

  Duke rubbed a hand across his beard with a reflective expression. “It looked obvious enough to me.”

  “Tell him, Mariah,” Christian said.

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Mariah,” he said through gritted teeth, “this isn’t funny anymore. Tell him.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “The truth! That you and I are not involved. That we’re nothing more than friends.”

  She turned to Duke, and it seemed to take her a long time to speak. “Christian and I are not involved. We’re...nothing more than friends.”

  Christian threw his hands in the air. “I rest my case.”

  * * *

  It was extremely unfortunate, Mariah felt, that she’d lacked the nerve to empty the coffeepot over Christian’s head. The man was an insensitive lout.

  They were trapped together in the office all afternoon, and her anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to explode. The first time she slammed a file drawer closed, he leaped up from his chair. He looked at her and, coward that she was, all she did in response was smile. This was her problem in a nutshell. Christian O’Halloran had abused her good nature from the outset.

  And she’d let him.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry,” Christian said.

  She sat back and studied him carefully. “You don’t?”

  “Of course not. It makes me angry, too. The whole town is talking about us, and it’s grossly unfair—to you and me.”

  Mariah clamped her teeth tightly shut as her frustration mounted.

  “There must be some way we can dispel these rumors.”

  “You seem to be doing a fine job of that,” she murmured. If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice, he ignored it.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Christian said, leaning back in his worn vinyl chair.

  “A painful process, no doubt.”

  Once again he chose to overlook her derisive comment. “I’m sure you’re just as embarrassed by all this gossip as I am.” He paused, laughing with what sounded like rather forced heartiness. “Bill Landgrin went so far as to claim you’ve been in love with me for months. Can you believe that? What a crock.”

  “Exactly!” She needed her head examined, and the sooner the better.

  “He asked did I mind if he asked you out.” He eyed her speculatively. “I couldn’t very well tell him I did.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, yes...”

  “You don’t like Bill?”

  “I don’t trust him.” Christian’s eyes grew dark. “I don’t think you should, either.”

  She knew exactly the type of man Bill Landgrin was. Never once had she seriously considered dating him, but she wasn’t about to tell Christian that.

  “Duke’s worth ten Bill Landgrins.”

  Mariah didn’t comment.

  “Ralph’s a decent sort, too,” Christian said, chewing thoughtfully on the end of his pencil.

  “Are you suggesting I go out with Duke or Ralph?” The man had a certain effrontery, she’d say that for him.

  “Sure,” he answered cheerfully. “Why not?”

  “I don’t happen to be attracted to either one of them.”

  Christian threw down the pencil. “You’re right, that could present a problem. I’ll tell you what,” he said, brightening, “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Good.” She didn’t know what he had in mind, but it was sure to be amusing.

  Mariah liked to think of herself as an even-tempered person, but if she listened to much more of Christian’s bizarre advice, she’d turn into a homicidal maniac. And her first victim would be O’Halloran brother number three.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, purposefully walking out of the office. “I’ve got to get something at the house.” He was halfway out the door when he turned and flashed her one of his devil-may-care grins. “We haven’t got a thing to worry about. I’ve got a terrific idea.”

  “I’ll just bet,” she muttered, but as before her sarcasm was wasted on him.

  True to his word, Christian returned five minutes later, slightly breathless. He flashed her another grin and waved a small black telephone directory at her.

  “What’s that?” It might not have been a good idea to ask, but she couldn’t resist.

  His eyes twinkled. “Exactly what it looks like. My little black book.”

  True to her prediction, this was going to be amusing. Cross
ing her arms, Mariah sat down and waited. “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “Get a date, what else? There are a number of women in Fairbanks who’ll remember me.”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah.” He leafed through the pages. “Since you aren’t keen on dating Duke or Ralph—”

  “They aren’t the only eligible men in town.”

  “That’s right,” he said, reaching for the telephone receiver and pinning it between his shoulder and ear. “But there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” he said, and winked at her. “Or in this case, kill a rumor.”

  Mariah rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “Hello, Ruthie?” Christian rested his feet on the corner of his desk and wore a cocky grin. “It’s Christian.”

  Mariah watched as the grin slowly faded.

  “Christian O’Halloran from Hard Luck. Remember?”

  The smile was back in place.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Right. How are you? Wonderful. Wonderful.”

  A shocked expression came into his eyes. “Married! When did that happen?”

  He looked at Mariah and shrugged, free hand palm up in a gesture that said this was a complete surprise.

  “Congratulations. Yes, of course. You should’ve sent me an invitation... Oh, you did. Sorry, we’ve been really busy around here the past few months... Oh, it’s been a year now? That long? Well, listen, I won’t keep you... Pregnant? Oh...wow. Great. Keep in touch, okay?”

  Mariah had to turn her back to him to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Scratch Ruthie,” he said. “But don’t despair. I’ve got plenty of other names.”

  “I’m sure you do.” The phone rang and Mariah answered it. While she was dealing with the call, she watched Christian reach for his phone a second time. Because her attention was on the call, she couldn’t follow what was happening, but from the expression on Christian’s face, it seemed to be a similar experience.

  Mariah took down her caller’s information and replaced the receiver.

  “Carol’s seeing someone else, too.” He flipped through the pages, muttering under his breath, dismissing one name after another. Tanya? No, he’d heard she’d gone to California. Hmm, what about Tiffany? No, they’d had that big fight. Sandra? Never really liked her. A number of times he paused and tapped his finger against his teeth as he contemplated a name. Gail? He tried the number; it was disconnected.

  “It seems I’ve been out of circulation,” he said to no one in particular. “Ruthie married.” He sighed. “We used to have a lot of fun together. Where did the time go?” He picked up the phone and tried again.

  Mariah didn’t want to listen, but she couldn’t make herself stop.

  “Pam,” he said in a carefree voice. “It’s Christian O’Halloran from Hard Luck. It’s been two years?” He sounded shocked. “That long? Really? How’ve you been?”

  Five solid minutes passed, during which Christian didn’t speak. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he finally said in a rush. “Married—only lasted three months. Divorce final this week...” He closed his eyes and waited. “Pam—listen, I’m at work. Gotta go. I’ll call you again soon. So sorry to hear about your troubles.” He replaced the receiver as if he couldn’t do it fast enough.

  Slowly he raised his eyes to Mariah. “Pam’s been married and divorced since the last time I saw her.”

  “This doesn’t sound like it’s going so well.” She couldn’t keep the glee out of her voice. If he was having difficulty finding a date, that was fine with her.

  “Vickie,” he said, suddenly triumphant. “She used to be crazy about me.”

  “Really?” More fool she.

  “I’m sure Vickie’ll be available.”

  It didn’t escape Mariah’s notice that the woman who was supposedly enamored of him wasn’t his first choice. Now, why didn’t that surprise her?

  Christian punched out the phone number, but Mariah saw that most of his cockiness had vanished. Apparently Vickie was unavailable, because he spoke a few, brief sentences in a near-monotone.

  “I got her answering machine,” he said. He looked mildly discouraged. “I wonder if Vickie’s married,” he said, and the thought appeared to sadden him.

  But she wasn’t; an hour later, Vickie, the smitten one, returned his call.

  Christian perked up like a freshly watered flower. “Hello, Vickie. So how’s it going?”

  As best she could, Mariah tuned him out. This time, she didn’t care to listen. Vickie, Mariah feared, would sound all too familiar. It would be like listening to herself.

  “Saturday night?” Christian seemed pleased. “Dinner. A movie? Sure, anything you want to see. Great. I’ll look forward to it.” A short pause. “I’ll be in Fairbanks around six. See you then.”

  When he finished, Mariah glanced toward his desk. Christian sat with his fingers linked behind his head, elbows jutting out. He wore a wide, satisfied grin.

  “Our troubles are over,” he said, and paused as if she should thank him for the noble sacrifice he was making on her behalf.

  “Wonderful,” she said.

  “Don’t you see?” Christian asked impatiently. “Once everyone in Hard Luck finds out I’m dating another woman, the gossip will stop.”

  “Really? And how will people learn that, since you’re flying into Fairbanks to see Vickie? Or was that Pam? No, Carol.” She was being deliberately obtuse.

  His smile was stiff. “Vickie. And people will know because I intend to tell them.”

  “Perfect,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m thrilled.” She checked her watch and realized it was quitting time. In more ways than one. Reaching for her sweater, she cast him a deceptively calm smile. “See you in the morning.”

  Then she walked out the door, suppressing the urge to slam it.

  * * *

  Vickie. Christian couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of her sooner. He’d always gotten along famously with her. He wondered if she still worked at the bank.

  Not until he’d started making the calls did he realize he’d been out of touch for so long.

  Tucking the small phone directory into his shirt pocket, he frowned. Mariah had left the office in quite a rush. And she didn’t seem to appreciate that he was putting his ego on the line, calling his former girlfriends after such a long absence.

  More than a year.

  Like the rest of the men in Hard Luck, he occasionally flew into Fairbanks—or he used to—for some R and R when the mood struck him.

  But a year.

  Then it hit him. Hard Luck had started bringing in women right around that time. That explained it.

  Turning off his computer and the office lights, Christian left for the evening.

  As he was walking home, his eight-year-old niece rode past him on a bike. She hit the brakes, skidding on the dirt.

  “Did you hear?” she called back to him excitedly.

  “Hear what?” Christian asked.

  “Mom and Sawyer—I mean Dad—just got back from the doctor’s appointment in Fairbanks.”

  Christian remembered that Sawyer was flying into Fairbanks that afternoon because Abbey was having an ultrasound.

  “The baby’s a girl.”

  “A girl.” Christian smiled. Ellen would be delighted.

  “They got pictures of the baby and everything. I was on my way over to tell Chrissie. Bethany’s going to have a baby, too.”

  “They have a picture of the baby?” This was something Christian wanted to see. A picture of an unborn baby.

  “Well,” Susan said, chewing on her lower lip, “the
y said it was a picture, but all it looked like to me was a bunch of blurry lines.”

  “A little girl,” Christian repeated. “That’s great.”

  “Dad thinks so,” Susan said, and laughed, “but I think he would’ve been happy with a boy, too.”

  “My brother’s easy to please.”

  Susan tried to climb back on the bicycle, but was having difficulty. Christian walked over to give her a hand by holding the bike steady. She clambered up and grinned at him. “Thanks, Uncle Christian.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Susan took off at breakneck speed, leaning over the handlebars in her eagerness to reach her friend’s house with the news. So, Mitch and Bethany were going to add to their family, too. Hard Luck was about to experience a population explosion.

  Christian hadn’t gone more than half a block when Scott came racing down the road. “Did you see Susan?” he asked, his face red with anger.

  “What if I did?”

  “She stole my bike.”

  “She wanted to tell her friend that your mom’s having a girl.”

  “Well, the doctor might be wrong,” Scott grumbled and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his tennis shoe.

  “I take it you were hoping for a boy?”

  Scott shrugged. “We got enough girls in the family already. I asked Mom if she’d be willing to have another baby, to make sure the next one’s a boy—and you know what she said?”

  Christian shook his head.

  “She said not to count on that, but if she doesn’t have a boy, then maybe Lanni would when her and Charles have babies. Or maybe Mariah after you marry her.”

  Nine

  Christian was having a pleasant evening, but he sensed his date wasn’t. Vickie was resolutely silent as they sat across from each other in the all-night diner. They’d been to dinner and a movie, and Christian’s spirits were high.

  “Did I mention the time Mariah made the filing cabinet fall over?” He could laugh about the incident now, but he hadn’t found it funny at the time. She’d been trying to shift the cabinet herself, just to spite him. Then when he’d hurried over to help, she’d tripped—and the cabinet had tumbled onto his foot. He’d limped for a week.