Midnight Sons Volume 2

by Debbie Macomber

  Chapter

  4

  October 1995

  The first snowfall of the year came in the third week of September. Thick flurries drifted down throughout the day, covering the ground and obscuring familiar outlines. Mitch thought he should’ve been accustomed to winter’s debut by now, but he wasn’t. However beautiful, however serene, this soft-looking white blanket was only a foretaste of the bitter cold to follow.

  He looked at his watch. In a few minutes he’d walk over to the school to meet Chrissie. He’d gotten into the habit of picking up his daughter on Friday afternoons.

  Not because she needed him or had asked him to come. No, he wryly suspected that going to the school was rooted in some masochistic need to see Bethany.

  He rationalized that he was giving Chrissie this extra attention because he worked longer hours on Friday evenings, when Diane Hestead, a high school student, stayed with her. That was the only night of the week Ben served alcohol. Before the women had arrived, a few of the pilots and maybe a trapper or two wandered into the Hard Luck Café. But with the news of women coming to town, Ben’s place had begun to fill up, not only with pilots but pipeline workers and other men.

  For the past three Friday nights, John Henderson and Bethany had dined at the café. They came and left before eight, when Ben opened the bar.

  From the gossip circulating around town, Mitch learned they’d become something of an item, although both insisted they were “only friends.”

  Mitch knew otherwise. On Bethany’s first date with John, he’d happened upon them kissing. Friends indeed! Even now, his gut tightened at the memory.

  For the thousandth time he reminded himself that he’d been the one to encourage her to see John. He couldn’t very well reveal his discontent with that situation when she’d done nothing more than follow his advice.

  He’d tried to convince himself that discovering John and Bethany together—kissing—had been sheer coincidence. But it hadn’t been.

  As the public safety officer, Mitch routinely checked the streets on Friday nights. He’d seen them leave Ben’s place on foot that first evening and had discreetly followed them. On subsequent Fridays he’d continued his spy tactics, always making sure he was out of sight. He wasn’t particularly proud of himself, but he found it impossible to resist the compulsion.

  Except for their first date, when he’d seen them kissing outside her house, she’d invited John in. The pilot never stayed more than a few minutes, but of course Mitch knew what the two of them were doing.

  He kept telling himself he should be pleased she was dating John; Henderson was a decent sort. But Mitch wasn’t pleased. At night he lay awake staring at the four shrinking walls of his bedroom. Still, he knew it wasn’t the walls that locked him in, that kept him from building a relationship with Bethany.

  It was his guilt, his own doubts and fears, that came between him and Bethany. This was Lori’s legacy to him. She’d died and in that moment made certain he’d never be free of her memory.

  Mitch checked his watch a second time and decided to head over to the school. The phone rang as he closed and locked the door, but he resisted the temptation to answer it. The machine would pick up the message, and he’d deal with the call when he returned to the office.

  Mitch could hear excited laughter in the distance as the children frolicked in the snow. Chrissie loved playing outside, although there’d be precious little of that over the next few months.

  By the time Christmas came, Hard Luck would be in total darkness. But with the holidays to occupy people’s minds and lift their spirits, the dark days didn’t seem nearly as depressing as they might have.

  Mitch had just rounded the corner to the school when he saw Bethany. She was half trotting with her head bowed against the wind, her steps filled with frantic purpose. She glanced up and saw him and stopped abruptly.

  “Mitch.” Her hand pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and he noticed for the first time how pale she was. “It’s Chrissie. She’s been hurt.”

  The words hit Mitch like a fist. He ran toward her and gripped her by the elbows. “What happened?”

  “She fell on the ice and cut herself. The school tried to call you, but you’d already left the office.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At the clinic…” Bethany’s voice quavered precariously. “I knew you were probably on your way to the school. Oh, Mitch, I’m so afraid.”

  It was bad. It had to be, otherwise Bethany wouldn’t be this pale, this frightened. Panic galvanized him and he began running toward the clinic. He’d gone half a block before he realized that Bethany was behind him, her feet slipping and sliding on the snow. Fearing she might stumble and fall, he turned back and stretched out a hand to her. She grasped his fingers with surprising strength.

  Together they hurried toward the clinic. It couldn’t have taken them more than two or three minutes to reach the building, but it felt like a lifetime to Mitch. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Chrissie. His daughter, his joy. She’d given his life purpose after Lori’s death. She’d given him a reason to live.

  He jerked open the clinic door, and the first thing he saw was blood. Crimson droplets on the floor. Chrissie’s blood. He stopped cold as icy fingers crept along his backbone.

  Dotty Harlow, the nurse who’d replaced Pearl Inman, was nowhere in sight; neither was Angie Hughes.

  “Dotty!” he called urgently.

  “Daddy.” Chrissie moaned his name, and the sound of her pain pierced his heart.

  Dotty stepped out of a cubicle in the back. Her soothing voice calmed his panic as she explained that Chrissie had required a couple of stitches, which she was qualified to do.

  Angie, who’d been talking to Chrissie, stepped aside when he came into the room. Chrissie sniffled loudly and her small arms circled his neck; when she spoke, her words came in a staccato hiccupping voice. “I…fell…and cut my leg real…bad.”

  “You’re going to be fine, pumpkin.” He pressed his hand to the side of her sweet face and laid his cheek on her hair.

  “I want Ms. Ross.”

  “I’m here,” Bethany whispered from behind Mitch.

  Chrissie stretched out her arms and Bethany hugged her close. Watching the two of them together threatened his resolve, as nothing else could have, to guard his heart against this woman.

  “You were very brave,” Dotty told Chrissie, as she put away the medical supplies, and Bethany helped his daughter back into her torn jeans.

  “I tried not to cry,” Chrissie said, tears glistening in her eyes, “but it hurt too bad.”

  “She’s going to need to take this medication,” Dotty said, distracting Mitch. The nurse rattled off a list of complicated-sounding instructions. Possibly because he looked confused and uncertain, Dotty wrote everything down and reviewed it with him a second time.

  “I can take her home?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Dotty said. “If you have any questions, feel free to call me or Angie.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  “Can I go home now?” Chrissie asked.

  “We’re on our way, pumpkin.”

  “I want Ms. Ross to come with us. Please, Daddy, I want Ms. Ross.”

  Any argument he might have offered died at the pleading note in Chrissie’s voice. There was very little he could have denied his daughter in that moment.

  When they arrived at the house and went inside, Chrissie climbed on Bethany’s lap, and soon her eyelids drifted shut.

  “How’d it happen?” Mitch asked tersely, sitting across from Bethany. Even now, the thought of losing his child made him go cold with the worst fear he’d ever experienced. When he’d found Lori dead, he hadn’t felt the panic that overcame him when a terrified Bethany had told him his daughter was hurt.

  “I’m not sure,” Bethany said. “As she always does on Fridays, Chrissie offered to clean the boards and erasers. My guess is that she took them outside and slipped. S
he must have cut her leg on the side of the Dumpster. One of the other children came running to get me.”

  “Thank God you were close at hand.”

  Bethany squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. When she opened them again, he noticed how warm and gentle they were as she looked down at Chrissie. “I don’t mind telling you, it shook me, finding her like that,” Bethany admitted. “You have a very special child, Mitch.”

  “I know.” And he did. He felt a strange and unfamiliar blend of emotions as he gazed at the two of them together. One he loved beyond life itself. The other he wanted to love, and couldn’t. He had nothing to offer her—not his heart, not marriage. And it was because he’d failed Lori, just as she’d failed herself. And failed him, failed her daughter. Day in and day out, his wife had grown more desperate, more unhappy. After Chrissie’s birth, she’d fallen into depression. Nothing he said or did seemed to help, and he realized now that he hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t understood the reality of her despair. Mitch blamed himself; his lack of awareness had cost Lori her life.

  “She’s fast asleep,” Bethany whispered, smoothing Chrissie’s hair away from her temple. Her words freed him from his bitter memories and returned him to the present.

  Mitch stood, lifting his daughter from Bethany’s arms. He carried her into her room while Bethany went ahead to turn down the covers, then placed his daughter in her bed.

  As soundlessly as possible they left the room, keeping the door half-open.

  There was no excuse for Bethany to linger. She had a date with another man—but Mitch didn’t want her to leave.

  “I suppose you have to get ready for your dinner with John?” he said, tucking his hands in his back pockets.

  “No.” Her eyes held his and she slowly shook her head.

  He was about to ask why, but he quickly decided he shouldn’t question the unexpected gift that had been dropped in his lap.

  “Chrissie and I rented a video to watch tomorrow,” he said, hoping to hide his eagerness for her company. “We generally do that on weekends. This week’s feature presentation is a three-year-old romantic comedy. Not my choice,” he told her. “Pete Livengood’s movie selection isn’t the most up-to-date, but I think you’d enjoy it. Would you care to stay and watch it with me?” Heaven knew, Mitch wanted her to stay. About as much as he’d wanted anything in his life.

  She gave a small, tentative smile and nodded. “But if it’s supposed to be Chrissie’s movie…”

  “I’ll get her another one tomorrow. Or—” he grimaced comically “—I’ll watch this one again.”

  “Okay, then. How about some popcorn?” she asked.

  He grinned almost boyishly. “You got it.”

  It wasn’t until the kernels were sizzling in the hot oil that he realized they hadn’t bothered with dinner. It didn’t matter. He’d fix something later if they were hungry. He had several free hours before his patrol, and he didn’t intend to waste them.

  When the corn had finished popping, he drenched it with melted butter, then carried the two heaping bowls into the living room. Bethany followed with tall, ice-filled glasses of soda. He placed the bowls on the coffee table and reached for the remote control.

  Normally he would’ve sat in the easy chair and propped his feet on the ottoman. He chose to sit next to Bethany, instead. For this one night, he was going to indulge himself. He needed her.

  The movie began, and he eased closer to her on the comfortable sofa. He found himself laughing out loud at the actors’ farcical antics and clever banter, which was something he didn’t do often. Very rarely did he see the humor in things anymore. When he ran out of popcorn, Bethany offered him some of hers. Soon his arm was around her, and she was leaning her head against his shoulder. This was about as close to heaven as he expected to get anytime within the next fifty years.

  Curiously time seemed to slow, not that Mitch objected. During one comical scene in the movie, Bethany glanced at him, laughing. Her eyes were a remarkably rich shade of brown. He wondered briefly if their color intensified in moments of passion.

  He swallowed hard and jerked his head away. Such thoughts were dangerous and he knew it. He reverted his attention to the television screen. Another mistake. The scene, between the hero and heroine, played by two well-known actors, was the final one of the movie, and it was a love scene.

  Mitch watched as the hero’s lips moved over the heroine’s, first in a slow, easy kiss, then with building passion. The actors were good at their craft. It didn’t take much to convince Mitch that the characters they played were going to end up in the bedroom.

  His breathing grew shallow as a painful longing sliced through him. The scene reminded Mitch of what he would never have with Bethany. In the same second, he realized with gut-wrenching clarity how much he wanted to kiss her.

  As though neither of them could help it, their eyes met. In Bethany’s he read an aching need. And he knew that what he saw might well be a reflection of his own.

  There was a long silence as the credits rolled across the screen.

  It was either throw caution to the winds and kiss her—or get out while he could still resist her. Almost without making a conscious decision, Mitch leapt from the sofa.

  He buried his hands deep in his pockets, because he couldn’t trust them not to reach for her. “Good movie, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  “Wonderful,” she agreed, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry.” Lanni Caldwell stood in the doorway of the Anchorage hospital room. Her grandmother had died there only an hour before. “I came the minute I heard."

  Kate looked up from her mother’s bedside, her eyes brimming with tears, and smiled faintly. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.” Lanni’s father stood behind his wife, his hand on her shoulder.

  Lanni gazed at Catherine Fletcher, the woman on the bed. Grammy. A term of affection for a woman Lanni barely knew, but one she would always love. Her heart ached at the sight of her dead grandmother. Over the past three months, Catherine’s health had taken a slow but steady turn for the worse. Yet even in her failing physical condition, Catherine had insisted she’d return to Hard Luck. Dead or alive.

  She would return.

  Not because it was her home, but because Catherine wanted to go back to David O’Halloran, the man she’d loved for a lifetime. The man who’d left her standing at the altar more than fifty years earlier, when he’d brought home an English bride. The man she’d alternately loved and hated all these years.

  “My mother’s gone,” Kate whispered brokenly. “She didn’t even have the decency to wait for me. Like everything else in her life, she had to do this on her own. Alone. Without family.”

  After spending the summer in Hard Luck, Lanni better understood her mother’s pain. For reasons Lanni would never fully grasp, Catherine Fletcher had given up custody of Kate when she was only a toddler. At a time when such decisions were rare, Catherine had chosen to be separated from her daughter. Chosen, instead, to stand impatiently on the sidelines waiting for David’s marriage to Ellen to disintegrate. When that didn’t happen, Catherine had decided to help matters along. But Ellen and David had clung steadfastly to each other, and in the end, after David’s untimely death, Catherine had let her bitterness and disillusionment take control.

  All her life, Kate Caldwell had been deprived of her mother’s love. She’d known that her mother had married her father on the rebound. The marriage had lasted less than two years, and Kate’s birth had been unplanned, a mistake.

  “Matt’s on his way,” Lanni told her parents. She’d spoken to her brother briefly when he phoned to give her his flight schedule. Sawyer O’Halloran was flying him into Fairbanks, and he’d catch the first available flight to Anchorage that evening. Lanni had arranged to pick him up at the airport.

  After saying her own farewell to her grandmother, Lanni moved into the room reserved for family to wait for her parents. Her heart felt heavy, burd
ened with her mother’s loss more than her own.

  Footsteps alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. When she glanced up, she saw Charles O’Halloran.

  “Oh, Charles,” she whispered, jumping to her feet. She needed his comfort now, and before another moment had passed, she was securely wrapped in his embrace.

  The sobs that shook her came as a shock. Charles held her close, his strength absorbing her pain, his love quieting her grief.

  “How’d you know?” Although tempted, she hadn’t phoned him, even though he was currently working out of Valdez.

  “Sawyer.”

  She should’ve guessed his brother would tell him.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.

  “I…didn’t think I should.”

  Her answer appeared to surprise him. “Why not?”

  “Because…I know how you still feel about Grammy. I don’t blame you. She hurt you and your family.”

  They sat down together and Charles took both of Lanni’s hands in his own. “I stopped hating her this summer. How could I despise the woman who was ultimately responsible for giving me you?”

  Lanni swiped at the tears on her cheeks and offered a shaky smile to this man she loved.

  “And after my mother told me the circumstances that led to her marrying my dad,” Charles went on, “I have a better understanding of the heartache Catherine suffered. My father made a noble sacrifice when he married Ellen. I know he grew to love her. But in his own way, I believe he always loved Catherine.”

  “I’d like to think they’re together now,” Lanni said. Charles’s father and her grandmother. “This time forever.”

  “I’d like to think they are, too,” Charles said softly, and he dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

  Lanni pressed her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “The memorial service will be in Hard Luck?” he asked.

  “Yes. And Grammy asked that her ashes be scattered on the tundra next spring.”