Midnight Sons Volume 2

by Debbie Macomber

  As soon as she heard that Abbey O’Halloran was pregnant, Karen stopped by the library. She knew the building had originally been the home of Adam O’Halloran, Hard Luck’s founder, and she gazed around with interest.

  “Karen, it’s good to see you.” Abbey was sitting at the large desk in the main room, working on the card catalog. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. You, too.” To Karen’s mixed relief and chagrin, her bouts of morning sickness had all but disappeared in the two weeks since her arrival in Hard Luck. Matt gloated, certain that her return to health could be attributed to him. Karen preferred to believe it was the fresh Alaska air.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” she said to Abbey, pleased that another woman in town was pregnant, too.

  “So you heard about the baby,” Abbey responded with a smile. “But then, I can’t see how you wouldn’t know. I swear, Sawyer’s personally announced our news to everyone in Alaska. You’d think I was the only woman in the world who ever got pregnant.”

  “And I thought Matt was the one who believed that.”

  The two women chuckled. “I’m happy for you,” Karen said, “and on a purely selfish note, I’m glad there’s someone I can talk to about all this.”

  “The morning sickness is better?”

  “Oh, yes.” Karen sighed gratefully. “I can’t understand it. When I was in California I considered it an accomplishment if I managed to get out of bed and dress. I arrive here, and it’s like a miracle cure. Oh, I still have an occasional bout of nausea, but it’s nothing like before.” She didn’t mention how much Matt wanted to take credit for that.

  “It happens that way sometimes,” Abbey told her with the wisdom of two pregnancies behind her. “Can I help you find something?” she asked. “I can recommend a couple of good books on pregnancy and infant care.”

  Karen grinned. “Matt bought about a dozen books in California,” she said. “Actually I came to volunteer my services.”

  “At the library?”

  “If I could.” She was eager to find something to occupy her time. Matt was busy with the lodge, and she rarely saw him more than twenty minutes a day. Although she was living with her ex-husband, Karen was lonelier than before. The first set of guests had arrived, and Matt had left for a two-day fishing expedition; he wouldn’t return until later that afternoon. But before leaving he’d hired Diane Hestead, a local high school girl, as a part-time maid. Matt’s sister, Lanni, was still handling reservations, but Karen hesitated to interrupt her. She knew Lanni was working on some travel pieces, articles she hoped to sell as a freelance writer.

  “I’d like to volunteer my services for the wedding reception for Mitch and Bethany Harris, too.” Lanni had told Karen that the couple had been married ten days earlier in San Francisco. A huge welcome party was planned for when they returned from their honeymoon.

  “We’d love to have you if you’re sure you feel up to it,” Abbey said excitedly.

  Karen was tired of sitting around the lodge with nothing to do—no defined tasks. No responsibilities. Twiddling her thumbs. She’d even organized Matt’s office, although she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it. He might have studied accounting, but the man didn’t know the meaning of the words filing system. Earlier that morning, Karen had gone into his office to set the mail on his desk and couldn’t find a space.

  How he could manage anything in such clutter was beyond her. She’d left the mail, determined to remind her ex-husband that this was no way to run a business. Ten minutes later she’d gone back into the office and tackled the mess herself. Before she realized it, the morning was gone and she’d set up a filing system for him.

  Although she told herself she’d done it out of her own need for organization, she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She wanted to help Matt. Contribute.

  He hadn’t asked one thing of her. He treated her like a guest, and that wasn’t what she wanted. If she was going to make the lodge her home for the next five or six months, it was important to do something in return. She wanted to be part of the community, too, and helping with this reception was a good start.

  Abbey beamed. “Ben insisted on doing all the cooking. Mariah Douglas—she’s the Midnight Sons secretary, in case you haven’t met her—is working on the decorations. Dotty Livengood’s helping, too.”

  Karen was eager to make friends with the other women in Hard Luck. She hadn’t ventured far from the lodge and was still finding her way around the small community. Everyone seemed to know her, though, thanks to Matt.

  “The reception’s on Saturday,” Abbey continued, “and Mariah and Dotty are hoping to get everyone together Friday evening around seven to decorate. We’d love it if you’d come.”

  “I’ll be there,” Karen promised.

  The July sun shone brightly as she wandered slowly back to the lodge, enjoying the day’s warmth and the friendly greetings. Matt hadn’t given her a specific time to expect him home, but she hoped it would be soon.

  The first thing Karen noticed when she stepped into the lodge was the inviting smells coming from the kitchen. Savory spices mingled with the scent of simmering beef and vegetables.

  “Matt?” She found her husband in the kitchen, wearing a starched white apron. He stood in front of the stove and grinned wryly when he saw her.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

  Karen begrudged the way her heart leapt with excitement at seeing him again. She was lonely, she told herself, that was all. What did she expect when her family and friends were in Anchorage, hundreds of miles away?

  “How’d everything go?” she asked in an effort to take her mind off her pleasure at having him home.

  “Great. The guys are showering now. We had a fabulous time.”

  “Did you catch any fish?” Matt wasn’t likely to get much repeat business unless he supplied the fishing experience of a lifetime. Karen had read in one of those glossy travel publications that it was cheaper to go on a safari in Africa than an expedition in Alaska.

  “Both guys said this was the best fishing of their lives. They’ve already given me a deposit for next year.”

  Karen couldn’t help sharing in his pride. “That’s wonderful!”

  Matt added chopped potato to the stew. “Did you miss me?”

  She had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “You were only gone two days.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  She knew what he was hoping to hear, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to reveal how lonely she’d been. “It was…quiet around here,” she said unwillingly.

  He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “You know, you’re looking more beautiful every day. Pregnancy obviously agrees with you.”

  Compliments made Karen uncomfortable. “I can’t button my jeans. And I’m only three months along,” she complained. “At this rate, I’ll end up resembling a battleship.”

  He stepped away from the stove and made a show of studying her. He twisted his head one way and then the other. When he’d finished, he said in a thoughtful tone, “Maybe, but you’ll be the prettiest battleship around.”

  Matt always knew how to cheer her up. But she didn’t want to laugh and joke with him; that kind of camaraderie was dangerous. She had to remind herself repeatedly that after the baby was born, she was returning to California. It was becoming more and more difficult to think about her life away from Matt.

  “Let me help you with dinner,” she insisted.

  “No way.” He was prepared to chase her out of the kitchen, but she stood her ground.

  “Matt, I want to help. If you don’t let me, I’ll go crazy with nothing to do.”

  He gave in. “Fine. You can set the table for our guests.”

  Then, because she was pleased to see him, and because she forgot for a moment that they were divorced and sleeping in separate rooms, she stood on tiptoe and briefly brushed his mouth with hers.

  Matt stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted
wings. Or antennae. His expression said he didn’t understand why she’d done this. She wasn’t sure herself. But it felt right. It felt more than right—it felt good.

  The folks in Hard Luck were getting to be experts at celebrating weddings, Ben Hamilton mused contentedly. He worked in the kitchen beside the school gymnasium, assembling hors d’oeuvres for Bethany and Mitch. First there’d been a wedding and reception for Sawyer and Abbey, and almost directly afterward another one for Pete and Dotty. Come spring, there was Charles and Lanni’s, and now a reception for Bethany and Mitch.

  His gaze followed the couple as they circulated among their guests. Pride filled him as he regarded Bethany—his daughter. The realization still took some getting used to. He actually had a daughter. One he’d never known about until she’d arrived in Hard Luck last year.

  It saddened Ben to acknowledge that he hadn’t been there for either Bethany or her mother, Marilyn. Instead, he’d spent twenty-odd years in the United States Navy, first in Vietnam and later on in various ports around the world. When he’d retired ten years ago, only in his forties, he’d come here to Alaska and opened his café. He hadn’t married; his affair with Marilyn was a brief episode he’d never forgotten. One that, it turned out, had left him with a daughter.

  And my, oh my, Bethany was pretty. Looking at her now with her husband and stepdaughter, Chrissie, Ben wondered how he could have produced such a charming, caring, lovely young woman.

  With more than a touch of regret, he realized he hadn’t. Her mother and Peter Ross, the man who’d loved Marilyn, had raised Bethany; they were the ones responsible for the woman she’d become. His contribution to the effort had been strictly genetic. Still, he took a good deal of pleasure in his daughter—in the kind of person she was. It thrilled him no end that Bethany and Mitch had decided to continue living in Hard Luck. He hadn’t figured out what role he’d play in her life—that was up to Bethany—but he was grateful for the opportunity to know her.

  “What are you doing in the kitchen?” Christian O’Halloran demanded. “You should be out there with everyone else, enjoying the party.”

  Ben wasn’t comfortable outside of a kitchen. He found he related to folks far more easily when he had something to occupy his hands, when he had coffee to pour and food to serve. He’d never been one to mingle and mix at parties.

  “I’ve got plenty to do right here,” he said. He had the hors d’oeuvre platters ready, plus the fruit and vegetable trays. Fine-looking trays, too, even if he did say so himself.

  He’d spent a lot of time making sure everything was as appealing to the eye as it was to the palate. The fact that he’d borrowed a cookbook by Martha Stewart from the library was his and Abbey’s secret.

  “But this is Bethany and Mitch’s reception,” Christian told him, as if he didn’t already know.

  “Ben, what can I do to help?” Mariah Douglas stepped into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw Christian O’Halloran. The two regarded each other like wary dogs.

  Ben had never considered himself much of an expert when it came to dealing with women. He was a crusty old bachelor, set in his ways. Nevertheless, he liked to think he was a good judge of people. It seemed to him that Mariah Douglas was sweet on Christian—which was unfortunate, because the youngest O’Halloran brother avoided Mariah like a communicable disease.

  “Hello, Christian,” she greeted him stiffly.

  Considering that they worked together every day, it astonished Ben that Mariah was actually blushing.

  “Mariah.” Christian nodded once, formally, and Ben noticed that he backed up several steps.

  Mariah returned her attention to Ben. “Can I help?”

  “I’ve already offered,” Christian said.

  If Christian hoped those curt words would dismiss her, his plan failed. Ben decided it was time to intervene. “These trays could do with replacing, and that punch bowl needs to be refilled and set out on the table,” he said briskly. Someone had brought the almost empty bowl into the kitchen. “Must be plenty of thirsty folks.”

  Ignoring Christian, Mariah headed for the punch bowl.

  Christian started to lift a tray, then hesitated when he saw Mariah. “Don’t do it like that.”

  “Like what?” she snapped.

  Ben didn’t blame her for using that tone. He wasn’t privy to what was going on between them, but he’d listened to Christian’s complaints about his inept secretary often enough to feel some sympathy for her.

  “Don’t fill the punch bowl here,” Christian muttered as if that should have been obvious. “Did you stop to think how much easier it would be to carry the bowl to the table first and then mix the punch?” He gestured to the wine, soda water and fruit juice lined up on the counter.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Here, I’ll do that and you carry the trays out.”

  “No,” Mariah insisted. “I said I’d take care of this. Stop worrying about me.”

  Christian and Mariah reached for the punch bowl at the same time. Ben could see it coming even before it happened. As they tugged at opposite sides of the bowl, the bright red remains of the punch swirled around the bottom and upward in a wave—which slapped Christian’s white dress shirt and ran down the front of his pants. He gasped and leapt back.

  “Christian!” Mariah cried with alarm. “Oh, no.”

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Christian shouted.

  “Me? You brought this on yourself!”

  Ben was proud to see that Mariah had learned to hold her own against her employer. She didn’t even blink as he glared at her.

  Christian’s eyes narrowed and he whirled around to leave the kitchen. “Tell Mitch and Bethany I’ll be back as soon as I’ve changed clothes,” he said to Ben.

  The instant Christian was out the door, Mariah sagged against the counter.

  “You all right?” Ben asked.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered. “It’s just that Christian and I…Oh, never mind. I’m sorry, Ben.”

  “No need to apologize to me.” He picked up the food tray himself and carried it out to the table, then stepped back to admire his work. He grinned, inordinately pleased with his efforts. It was a small thing, but he felt pride in being able to contribute to his daughter’s reception.

  “Ben.” Bethany joined him. “I don’t know how Mitch and I can possibly thank you. Everything looks so beautiful.”

  Ben decided he could live on those words and the happiness gleaming in her eyes for at least a week. “It’s nothing,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, as if he’d whipped up the entire display that morning. In actuality, he’d been planning and working on it for weeks.

  “The food’s fabulous,” Bethany told him. “And I know what those grapes and watermelons cost. You’ve done such a beautiful job.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “I wanted your party to be special,” he said, uneasy with emotion, even positive emotion. Damn, but he was proud of Bethany.

  She’d chosen a good man in Mitch, too. Ben grinned. He was pretty gauche about this romance business, but he was well aware that Mitch’s daughter was responsible for bringing her father and Bethany—her teacher—together. Who knew an eight-year-old could be so smart? Ben was convinced he couldn’t have picked a better man for Bethany had he sought out a husband for her himself.

  “Dad told me what you did,” Bethany said, slipping her arm around Ben’s waist. “Writing Mom and Dad that letter was really thoughtful.”

  He shrugged again, making light of the single most difficult letter he’d ever written. “It was nothing.”

  “Dad told me you thanked him for raising me so well. It wasn’t easy telling my folks I’d found you, and I think Dad might’ve been afraid that you’d replace him in my life.”

  Ben had given that some consideration, too. Peter Ross deserved a lot of credit for marrying a young woman pregnant with another man’s child, and raising that baby to become such a beautiful, generous woman. Ben wanted to thank
this man he’d never met, and at the same time reassure him that he had no intention of stealing his daughter away. Peter was her real father; he respected that. Ben felt it was time to clear the slate with Marilyn, too. He’d written his regrets to Bethany’s mother and asked her to forgive him for having left her to deal with the pregnancy alone.

  “Dad said he’d be pleased to count you as a friend,” Bethany told him, eyes glistening with tears.

  Ben already knew that. Peter’s letter had arrived two days before Bethany’s wedding, and Marilyn had also written him. He’d loved her, Ben realized; perhaps he still did. But he was content. She was happy and he’d discovered a woman who was not only his daughter but his comfort, his friend. Everything had worked out for the best.

  “Are you going to dance with me?” Bethany asked, hugging him.

  “Dance? Me?” Ben experienced a fleeting moment of panic. “Not on your life. That’s what you’ve got a husband for. Now let me go back to the kitchen before your guests get hungry.” He hurried back to where he felt most at home but turned to study his daughter one last time. His heart seemed to expand a bit as Bethany stepped onto the dance floor with Mitch.

  Matt knew Karen was having a good time. He’d been relying on this wedding reception; the last time the people of Hard Luck had gathered to celebrate a wedding was the night Karen had spent with him. Matt sincerely hoped that history was about to repeat itself.

  He’d certainly been restraining himself with his ex-wife—he’d been as good as a choirboy. In three weeks he hadn’t even tried to kiss her, which was a real feat, considering how he felt about her.

  Matt feared she was looking for an excuse to leave, something that would prove she’d be better off living elsewhere. True, her options were limited right now; nevertheless she did have some. For instance, he knew that her parents had invited her to move home if things became too uncomfortable. But Matt had decided he wasn’t giving Karen any reason to leave Hard Luck. He had five and a half months to prove himself. Five and a half very short months.

  His hands-off policy was working, too; Matt could tell. She was much more relaxed with him. And almost against her will, she was beginning to appreciate life in Hard Luck. She’d become part of the community, made new friends. And having his sister in town had been more of an advantage than he’d anticipated. The two women got together at least twice a week. Karen had started helping with the reservations, gradually taking over from Lanni when Matt was away, and responding to queries left on the answering machine.