Midnight Sons Volume 2

by Debbie Macomber

“Hard Luck’s version of the law,” Mitch translated for her.

  “My father’s a member of San Francisco’s finest,” she murmured.

  “Well,” Sawyer said, “Mitch was one of Chicago’s finest before moving here.”

  “That’s right,” Mitch supplied absently.

  “I imagine your head’s swimming about now,” Abbey said. “I know mine was when I first arrived. Oh—” she waved at a woman just coming in the door “—here’s Margaret. Margaret Simpson, the high school teacher.”

  Margaret, a pleasant-looking brunette in her thirties, joined them. She greeted Bethany with friendly enthusiasm, explained that she lived on the same street as Sawyer and Abbey did and that her husband was a pipeline supervisor who worked three weeks on and three weeks off.

  Mitch hardly heard the conversation between Margaret and Bethany; the words seemed to fade into the background as he found himself studying Bethany Ross.

  He wanted to know her better, but he wouldn’t allow himself that luxury. Although she claimed otherwise, he didn’t expect her to last three months, not once the brutal winter settled in.

  But she intrigued him. Tantalized him. The reasons could be as basic as the fact that he’d been too long without a woman—six years to be exact. He’d buried Lori when Chrissie was little more than an infant. Unable to face life in Chicago, he’d packed their bags and headed north. As far north as he could get. He’d known at the time that he was running away. But he’d felt he had no choice, not with guilt and his own self-doubts nipping at his heels. He was out of money and tired of life on the road by the time he reached Hard Luck.

  And he’d been happy here. As happy as possible, under the circumstances. He and Chrissie had made a new life for themselves, made new friends. For Mitch, the world had become calm and orderly again, without pain or confusion. Without a woman in their lives.

  He certainly hadn’t expected to meet a woman like Bethany—a tropical bird—in Alaska.

  She wasn’t precisely beautiful, he decided. She was…striking. He struggled to put words to her attributes. Feminine. Warm. Generous. Somewhat outrageous. Fun. The kids would love her. He’d spent ten, possibly fifteen, minutes chatting with her and wanted more of her time, more of her attention.

  But he refused to indulge himself. He’d learned all the lessons he ever wanted to learn from his dead wife. The new schoolteacher could tutor some other man.

  Bethany yawned and tried to hide it behind the back of her hand.

  “You must be exhausted,” Abbey said sympathetically. “I can’t believe we’ve kept you this long. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, please, it was wonderful of you to make me feel so welcome.” To her obvious chagrin, Bethany yawned again. “But maybe I should leave now.”

  “She’s dead on her feet,” Sawyer said to no one in particular. “Mitch, would you be kind enough to escort her home?”

  “Of course.” He set down his wineglass, but truth be known, he’d rather have declined. He was about to suggest someone else do the honors when he realized Bethany might find that insulting.

  She studied him, and again he had the impression she could read his mind. He looked away and searched the room until he found his daughter. Chrissie was sitting near the door to the kitchen with her best friend, Susan. The two were deep in conversation, their heads close together. He didn’t know what they were discussing, but whatever it was seemed terribly important. Yet another scheme to outsmart the adults, no doubt. Heaven save him from little girls.

  He turned to Bethany Ross. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?” he asked politely.

  “Of course. I’ll need a few minutes myself.”

  While Mitch collected Chrissie, Bethany bade the members of the school board good-night.

  They met just outside the front door. He didn’t have to ask where she lived—the teacher’s living quarters were supplied by the state and were some of the best accommodations in town. The small two-bedroom house was located on the far side of the school gymnasium.

  Mitch held open the passenger door so Chrissie could climb into the truck first. He noticed how quiet his daughter had become, as if she was in awe of this woman who would be her teacher.

  “I appreciate the ride,” Bethany told him once he’d started the engine.

  “It’s no trouble.” It was, but not because of the extra few minutes’ driving. But then he decided he might as well let himself enjoy her company, since the opportunity was unlikely to be repeated. Once the eligible men in Hard Luck caught sight of her, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Which was probably a good thing…

  “Would you mind driving me around a bit?” Bethany asked. “I didn’t get much of a chance to see the town earlier.”

  “There’s not much to see.” It occurred to him that he might enjoy her company too much, and that could be dangerous.

  “We could show her the library,” Chrissie said eagerly.

  “Hard Luck has a library?”

  “It’s not very big, but we use it a lot,” said the girl. “Abbey’s the town librarian.”

  Sawyer’s wife had worked for weeks setting up the lending library. The books were a gift from the O’Hallorans’ mother and had sat in a disorganized heap for years—until Abbey’s arrival. She’d even started ordering new books, everything from bestselling fiction to cookbooks; the first shipment had been delivered a week ago, occasioning great excitement. It seemed everyone in town had become addicted to books. Mitch had heard a number of lively discussions revolving around a novel. An avid reader himself, he was often a patron, and he encouraged Chrissie to take out books, too.

  “Ms. Ross should see the store,” Chrissie suggested next. “And the church and the school.”

  “What’s that building there?” Bethany asked, pointing to the largest structure in town.

  “That’s the lodge,” he said without elaborating.

  “Matt Caldwell’s fixing it up.” Again it was Chrissie who provided the details. “He’s Lanni’s brother.”

  “You didn’t meet Lanni Caldwell,” Mitch explained. “I told you about her—she’s engaged to Charles O’Halloran.”

  “I met Charles?”

  “Briefly. He was in and out.”

  “The tall man wearing the Midnight Sons sweatshirt?”

  “That’s right.”

  Chrissie leaned closer to Bethany. “No one lives at the lodge now ’cause of the fire. Matt bought it, and he’s fixing it up so people will come and stay there and pay him lots of money.”

  “The fire?”

  “It happened years ago,” Mitch told her. “Most of the damage was at the back, so you can’t see it from here.” He shook his head. “The place should’ve been repaired or torn down long before now, but I guess no one had the heart to do either. The O’Hallorans recently sold it to Matt Caldwell, which was definitely for the best.”

  “Matt’s going to take the tourists mushing!” Chrissie said. “He’s going to bring in dogs and trainers and everything!”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Eagle Catcher’s a husky,” Chrissie added.

  Mitch caught Bethany’s questioning look. “That’s Sawyer’s dog.”

  “He belongs to Scott,” his daughter corrected him.

  “True,” Mitch said with a smile at Chrissie. “I’d forgotten.”

  “Scott and Susan are brother and sister, right?” said Bethany. “Abbey’s kids?”

  “Right.”

  Mitch could tell Bethany was making a real effort to keep everyone straight in her mind, and he thought she’d done an impressive job so far. Maybe a memory for names and faces came with being a teacher.

  “Are there any restaurants in town?” Bethany asked. “I’m not much of a cook.”

  Mitch glanced her way. Their eyes met briefly before he looked back at the road. “The Hard Luck Café.”

  Bethany nodded.

  “Serves the best cup of coffee in town, but then Ben hasn’t got much competition.”

/>   There was a pause. “Ben?”

  “Hamilton. He’s a bit of a grouch, but don’t let that fool you. He’s got a heart of gold, and he’s a lot more than chief cook and bottle washer. Along with everything else, he dishes up a little psychology. You’ll like him.”

  “I—I’m sure I will.”

  Mitch drove to the end of the road. A single light shone brightly in the distance. “That’s where the cabins are,” he said. “Mariah’s place is the one on the far left.” Mitch had lost count of the number of times the youngest O’Halloran brother, Christian, had tried to convince his secretary to move into town. But Mariah always refused. Mitch was just glad he wasn’t the one dealing with her stubbornness.

  He turned the truck around and headed back toward the school. When he pulled up in front of Bethany’s little house, she smiled at him.

  “Thanks for the tour and the ride home.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Chrissie,” Bethany said, her voice gentle, “since I’m new here, I was wondering if you’d be my classroom helper.”

  His daughter’s eyes lit up like sparklers on the Fourth of July, and she nodded so hard her pigtails bounced wildly. “Can Susan be your helper, too?”

  “Of course.”

  Chrissie beamed a proud smile at her father.

  “Well, good night, Chrissie, Mitch,” Bethany said, then opened her door and climbed out.

  “Night,” father and daughter echoed. Mitch waited until she was inside the house and the lights were on before he drove off.

  So, he thought, the new schoolteacher has arrived.

  Bethany was even more exhausted than she’d realized. But instead of falling into a sound sleep, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, fighting fatigue and mulling over the time she’d spent with Mitch Harris.

  The man was both intense and intelligent. That much had been immediately apparent. He stood apart from the others in more ways than one. Bethany suspected he wouldn’t have bothered to introduce himself, which was why she’d taken the initiative. She’d noticed him right away, half-hidden in a corner, watching the events without joining in. When it looked as if the evening would pass without her meeting him, she’d made the first move.

  There was something about him that appealed to her. Having lived with a policeman all her life, she must have intuitively sensed his occupation; she certainly hadn’t been surprised when Sawyer told her. He reminded her a little of her father. They seemed to have the same analytical mind. It drove her mother crazy, the way Dad carefully weighed each decision, considered every option, before taking action. She’d bet Mitch was like that, too.

  It was one personality trait Bethany didn’t share.

  She would’ve liked to know Mitch Harris better, but she had the distinct impression he wasn’t interested. Then again…maybe he was. A breathless moment before she’d introduced herself, she’d recognized some glint of admiration in his eye. She’d been sure of it. But now she wondered if that moment had existed only in her imagination.

  All the same, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to see his eyes darken with passion before he kissed her.…

  She was far too tired; she wasn’t thinking clearly. Bethany closed her eyes and pounded the pillow, trying to force herself to relax.

  But even with her eyes shut, all she saw was Mitch Harris’s face.

  She hadn’t come to Hard Luck to fall in love, she told herself sternly.

  Rolling onto her other side, she cradled the pillow in her arms. It didn’t help. Drat. She could deny it till doomsday, but it wouldn’t make any difference. There was just something about Chrissie’s father….

  “Ms. Ross?”

  Bethany looked up from the back of her classroom. Chrissie and Susan stood by the doorway, their faces beaming with eagerness.

  “Hello, girls.”

  “Um, we’re here to be your helpers,” Chrissie said. “Dad told us we’d better make sure we are helpers and not nuisances.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful helpers,” Bethany said.

  The two girls instantly broke into huge grins and rushed inside the room. Bethany put them to work sorting textbooks. This was the first time she’d taught more than one grade, and the fact that she’d now be handling kindergarten through six intimidated her.

  “Everyone’s looking forward to school,” Chrissie announced, “especially my dad.”

  Bethany chuckled. Mitch wasn’t so different from other parents.

  The girls had been working for perhaps twenty minutes when Chrissie suddenly asked, “You’re not married or anything, are you, Ms. Ross?”

  A smile trembled on her mouth. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Leave it to a seven-year-old to ask that kind of question. “I haven’t met the right man,” she explained as simply as she could.

  “Have you ever been in love?” Susan probed.

  Bethany noticed that both girls had stopped sorting through the textbooks and were giving her their full attention. “Yes,” she told them with some hesitation.

  “How old are you?”

  “Chrissie.” Susan jabbed her elbow into her friend’s ribs. “You’re not supposed to ask that,” she said in a loud whisper. “It’s against the human-rights law. We could get charged with snooping.”

  “I’m twenty-five,” Bethany answered, pretending she hadn’t heard Susan.

  The girls exchanged looks, then started using their fingers to count.

  “Seven,” Chrissie breathed, as if it were a magic number.

  “Seven?” Bethany asked curiously. What game were the girls playing?

  “If a man’s seven years older than you, is that too old?” Susan asked, her eyes wide and inquisitive.

  “Too old,” Bethany repeated thoughtfully. She perched on the edge of a desk and crossed her arms. “That depends.”

  “On what?” Chrissie moved closer.

  “On age, I suppose. If I was fourteen and wanted to date a man who was twenty-one, my parents would never have allowed it. But if I was twenty-one and he was twenty-eight, it would probably be okay.”

  Both girls seemed pleased with her answer, grinning and nudging each other.

  Bethany responded to their odd behavior with a joke. “You girls aren’t thinking about dating fourteen-year-old boys, are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in pretend disapproval.

  Chrissie covered her mouth and giggled.

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Get real, Ms. Ross. I don’t even know what the big attraction is with boys.” Then, as if to explain her words, she said, “I have an older brother.”

  “Would you tell us about the man you were in love with?” This came from Chrissie. Her expression had grown so serious Bethany decided to answer, despite her initial impulse to change the subject.

  “The man I was in love with,” she began, “was a guy I dated while I was in college. We went out for about a year.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Randy.”

  “Randy,” Chrissie repeated with disgust, turning to look at her friend.

  “Did he do you wrong?”

  Bethany laughed at the country-and-western phrasing, although she was uncomfortable with these questions. “No, he didn’t do me wrong.” If anyone was to blame for their breakup, it had been Bethany herself. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really loved him, which she supposed was an answer in itself. They’d been friends, and that had developed into something more—at least on Randy’s part.

  He’d started talking marriage and children, and at first she’d agreed. Then she’d realized she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Not when she had two full years of school left. Not when she’d barely begun to experience life.

  They’d argued and broken off their unofficial engagement. The breakup had troubled Bethany for months afterward. But now she understood that what she’d really regretted was the loss of their friendship.

  “Do you still see him?” Chrissie asked.
/>   Bethany nodded.

  “You do?” Susan sounded as if this was a tragedy.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Is he married?”

  “No.” Bethany grew a little sad, thinking about her longtime friend. She did miss Randy, even now, five years after their breakup.

  Both Chrissie and Susan seemed deflated at the news of Bethany’s lost love.

  “Would it be all right if we left now?” Chrissie asked abruptly.

  “That’s fine,” Bethany told them. “Thanks for your help.”

  The two disappeared so quickly all that was missing was the puff of smoke.

  If nothing else, the girls certainly were entertaining, Bethany thought. She returned to the task of cutting large letters out of colored paper.

  The sun blazed in through the classroom windows, and she tugged her shirt loose, unfastened the last few buttons and tied the ends at her midriff. Then she pulled her hair away from her face and used an elastic to secure it in a ponytail.

  Half an hour later, most of the letters, all capitals, for the word September were pinned in an arch across the bulletin board at the back of the room. She stood on a chair and had just pinned the third E when she felt someone’s presence behind her. Twisting around, she saw Mitch standing in the open door.

  “Hi,” she said cheerfully, undeniably pleased to see him. He was dressed in the khaki uniform worn by Department of the Interior staff. His face revealed none of his emotions, yet Bethany had the feeling he’d rather not be there.

  “I’m looking for Chrissie.”

  Bethany pinned the R in place and then stepped down from the chair. “Sorry, but as you can see she isn’t here.”

  Mitch frowned. “Louise Gold told me this was where she’d be.”

  Bethany remembered that Louise Gold was the woman who watched Chrissie while Mitch was at work. She’d briefly met her the day before. In addition to her other duties, Louise served on the school board.

  “Chrissie was here earlier with Susan.”

  “I hope they behaved themselves.”

  Bethany recalled their probing questions and smiled to herself. Pushing back the chair, she said, “They were fine. I asked Chrissie for her help, remember?”