Born in a Small Town

by Debbie Macomber

  Resolved to push all thoughts of him from her mind, Chrissie slammed into the office early. She refused to look at her clock, refused to remember that at ten that very morning, Scott O’Halloran was flying back into Hard Luck—and into her well-ordered life.

  At eleven-thirty, just as she was about to break for lunch, Kate, the secretary she shared with Tracy, buzzed her. “Scott O’Halloran is here to see you. Shall I send him in?”

  Already? Chrissie’s heart began to race, pounding so hard she had to catch her breath. Scott was here? Now?

  “Ms. Harris?”

  Forcing her heart to slow down, Chrissie leaned over and pressed the intercom button. “Send him in,” she said as evenly as her shallow breath would allow.

  A moment later Scott strolled into her small office. He hadn’t changed. He was still better-looking than any man had a right to be. He’d always had a real presence—a confident quality and a sense of life that invariably attracted people. Especially women. Chrissie made herself stand and meet him eye to eye. For one wild moment all she could do was stare. Furious at her reaction, she let her hands fall onto her desk for support.

  “Hello, Scott,” she managed to say, proud of revealing a complete lack of emotion. To all appearances, he might have been a stranger.

  “Chrissie.” He beamed her a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

  She inhaled and held her breath. With hardly any effort, he was tearing down her defenses. And, no doubt, he knew exactly the effect he had on her, hide it though she might.

  “You’re looking good,” he murmured with a nod of approval.

  “Yes, I know,” she said in blithe tones, wanting him to realize she wouldn’t be won over by a bit of flattery and some practiced charm. Not this time. He could fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness, and she’d look down at him and feel nothing but contempt.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

  “Actually I don’t.” Striking a casual pose, she crossed her arms. How dared he assume he could saunter into her office and pretend nothing had happened? He had nerve, she’d say that for him. Well, dammit, so did she. “Perhaps it’d be best if we cleared the air now,” she said aggressively.

  “Cleared the air?”

  “If you think you can walk back into my life again, you’re wrong. I’m older now. Wiser, too. The first time, shame on you, the second time shame on me. There simply isn’t gong to be a third time.”

  Scott’s lips quivered with a smile.

  “You find this amusing?”

  “If you’d give me a chance to explain…” he began.

  She laughed lightly, breezily, as if to suggest she’d be a fool to listen to anything he had to say. “Explain what? You’re the one who claimed to be in love with me—and all the while you were engaged to another woman! Frankly, I’m not interested in hearing any explanations. That’s all water under the bridge.” With great aplomb, she walked around her desk to her chair. Sitting down, her back very straight, she reached for her pen and glanced casually upward. “I think you should leave now.”

  “Well, the truth is, Chrissie, I didn’t stop by to rehash old times. I was planning to hire you to draw up some legal papers, since I’m becoming a full partner in Midnight Sons.”

  “Oh.” Mortified beyond words, Chrissie fought to keep from crawling beneath her desk.

  “But that’s okay. I’ll make an appointment with Tracy.”

  “Ah…” she blubbered, then nodded, implying she thought this was probably the best idea.

  “Good to see you again,” he said on his way out the door, closing it behind him.

  Chrissie dropped her forehead to her desk. What was it about Scott O’Halloran that turned her into a complete idiot every time she saw him?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ABBEY O’HALLORAN’S HEART was full. As she shelved books at the Hard Luck lending library, she reflected on the reason for her happiness. She’d been waiting for this day a very long time. Her son was home. Years ago, divorced and raising two children alone, she’d moved to Hard Luck and, after a few weeks and a whirlwind courtship, had married Sawyer O’Halloran. They had a good marriage and had added Anna and Ryan, now seventeen and nineteen respectively, to their family. As soon as he could, Sawyer had adopted Scott and Susan, and loved and nurtured her children as his own. Scott, however, had gone through a difficult period of teenage rebellion that had left Abbey and Sawyer at a loss as to how to deal with him.

  It’d all started his last year of high school, when he had a couple of minor run-ins with Mitch Harris, the sheriff and Chrissie’s father. Mitch assured Sawyer and Abbey that Scott wasn’t a bad boy and the pranks he’d pulled were typical of many teenagers. Skipping school and painting graffiti on the community-center wall were small infractions, ones Abbey had been willing to overlook. What she couldn’t excuse was Scott’s lack of respect for Sawyer. Her husband had been nothing but warm and loving to both Scott and Susan. Scott, though, had become an increasingly angry young man, and he’d vented that anger against Sawyer. Abbey had never completely understood why her son seemed so resentful, why he’d felt such rage. His unpleasant behavior had escalated during his high-school years and later, too, when Scott had briefly worked for Midnight Sons. Although Sawyer had never complained, Abbey knew he’d been deeply hurt by the things Scott had said and done.

  Then one day, without a word to anyone, Scott had enlisted in the army. Not that Abbey or Sawyer would have objected. By this point it was obvious that Scott had problems he needed to resolve. As his mother, she’d longed to help him deal with his past, yearned to answer his doubts, but she couldn’t help what she didn’t understand. Watching Scott fly out of Hard Luck for boot camp was, without question, one of the most difficult moments she’d ever experienced.

  She’d known someday he’d return. She just hadn’t known when that day would come. She certainly hadn’t expected it to be nearly ten years later.

  The library door opened and Sawyer walked in. Even after all these years of marriage, she felt a rush of joy at the sight of him. His hair was almost completely gray now. The laugh lines around his eyes were more pronounced but he was as handsome and vital as when they’d first met.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see him.

  “Hey, I’ve got a library card.”

  His eyes held a warm teasing light and she smiled in response. She’d loved this man for twenty years and borne him two children. They’d made a good life together in Hard Luck and looked forward to the time they could officially retire and travel, the way they’d planned. As Sawyer often reminded her, there was an entire world for them to explore. But no matter where they went, Alaska would always be home.

  “I thought you were with Scott.” She placed the latest Janet Evanovich mystery back on the shelf, then turned and kissed her husband, catching him by surprise.

  “Hey, what’s that for?”

  “I’m just so happy I can barely hold it all inside. Scott’s home! And this time it’s for good.”

  Sawyer grinned with equal delight. “He’s grown up, Abbey.”

  “I know.”

  “The years away have served him well. He’s lost all that anger. He’s made peace with himself and he’s ready to step into the business.” Sawyer moved toward her desk and perched on the corner. “Did you hear he’s found a place to rent?”

  “Already?” Abbey couldn’t help being disappointed. She’d hoped for a chance to fuss over her son for the first couple of weeks.

  “He wants to make his own way, and I can’t say I blame him,” Sawyer said in Scott’s defense. “Matt and Karen are renting him one of the cabins they renovated this summer.” Their good friends, the Caldwells, had owned and operated Hard Luck Lodge for the past twenty years and had always been fond of Scott. Their primary business was providing accommodations for the tourists who flew in with Arctic Experiences, the tour company run by Matt and their son-in-law, Ron Gold.

  Now that Abbey th
ought about it, one of those cabins was ideal. There was also a touch of irony attached to it. She’d come here in response to an advertisement offering jobs to women willing to move to Hard Luck, fifty miles from the Arctic Circle. To attract qualified job applicants, Midnight Sons had included a cabin and twenty acres of land for each. What the brothers hadn’t bothered to disclose was that the cabins were dilapidated one-room shacks, desperately in need of repair. If that wasn’t insult enough, the twenty acres they’d so generously thrown in were nowhere near Hard Luck or the cabins. For the most part they were only accessible by air.

  “Matt’s done a good job with those cabins,” Sawyer remarked.

  Abbey agreed. The original shacks had been torn down years ago and larger, better-equipped cabins built. The Caldwells had recently begun an extensive process of renovation and Scott would be renting one of the newly upgraded cabins.

  “Scott’s had a busy afternoon,” Sawyer continued. “He was in to see Tracy about having the papers drawn up.”

  “Not Chrissie?” Abbey asked.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Apparently not. My guess is, he knows he’s got some amends to make.”

  Abbey nodded slowly. As Scott’s mother she could think of no better wife for her son than Chrissie Harris. Although Scott had never discussed his feelings for Chrissie, Abbey knew he’d loved her as a teenager, and Abbey strongly suspected he loved her still.

  That morning when he’d arrived, Abbey noticed the way Scott’s gaze had moved over the crowd who’d gathered to greet him. He’d been searching for Chrissie; she was sure of it. And practically the first stop he’d made in town was the attorneys’ office. Yes, there were some legal papers to be drawn up, but that certainly didn’t need to be done the first day he was back.

  “Abbey?”

  She glanced up to find her husband watching her.

  “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

  Abbey played dumb. “What look?”

  “The one that tells me you’re up to no good.”

  She frowned with indignation. “You haven’t got a clue what I’m thinking, Sawyer O’Halloran.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” her husband challenged, leaving her desk to sink into an overstuffed chair. Abbey sat on the chair arm beside him. “I do know what you’re thinking,” he told her. “Your eyes give you away. You’re thinking about Scott and Chrissie.”

  Abbey considered arguing with him, but he was right and he knew it. “Don’t you remember how badly Scott wanted us to get married?” she asked, the years rolling away with the memory. Sawyer had originally proposed for what Abbey believed to be all the wrong reasons. It’d nearly broken her heart to turn him down, but with one failed marriage behind her, she couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. She’d already fallen in love with him, but his proposal had been motivated more by his fear that someone else might ask her first. Or so it had seemed to her. Loving him the way she did, afraid he didn’t really love her, she’d believed that the only sensible option was to protect her family—and her vulnerable emotions. She’d decided to leave Hard Luck. Then Scott and Susan had disappeared. Abbey had never known such panic as she’d felt that night.

  Her husband reached for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “If not for Scott and Susan running away, I might have lost you. I was crazy about you then and I’m even crazier about you now.”

  Abbey pressed her head to his shoulder, savoring the feel of his arms around her.

  “Only, back then I didn’t know how to tell you,” Sawyer said, the frustration and anguish of that night evident even after all these years. “I didn’t know how to persuade you to stay.”

  Abbey kept her head against her husband’s shoulder. “Now Scott needs our help,” she whispered.

  “With Chrissie?”

  Abbey nodded. “I’m afraid he’s more like you than you realize. He loves Chrissie, but he’s not sure how to proceed.”

  “Are you suggesting I give him advice?” Sawyer asked, looking aghast at the prospect.

  Abbey giggled. “Hardly. The situation calls for diplomacy.”

  Her husband’s frown cut deep grooves in his forehead. “Like what?” he asked warily. “And please note that I’m ignoring the slur on my diplomatic abilities.”

  Abbey smiled. “I think we should hold a welcome-home party for him. We have a lot to celebrate, don’t you think?”

  “We do indeed.” Sawyer’s face relaxed. “And there’s someone you’re going to invite, isn’t there?”

  “Shh.” Abbey brought her index finger to her lips.

  “I don’t want to be obvious about it.”

  “Right,” Sawyer said, sounding amused. “We wouldn’t want to be obvious.”

  “We’ll make it a surprise party.”

  “A surprise party?” Sawyer echoed. “But who do you intend to surprise? Scott or Chrissie?”

  IT WAS ALMOST FOUR-THIRTY when Scott walked into the Hard Luck Café—too early for the dinner crowd. The restaurant hadn’t changed much over the years, and neither had Ben. To Scott’s eyes, Ben Hamilton had aged barely a year in the past ten. He was in his sixties now, his hair a little thinner on top but his welcoming smile as warm and wide as always.

  “Scott!” Ben greeted him with unconcealed delight. “Hey, boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  The two men exchanged hearty handshakes and then impulsively hugged.

  “So you’re moving back to Hard Luck?” Ben asked.

  “I am,” Scott confirmed, and slid onto a stool at the counter. He picked up a menu, although he wasn’t planning to order a meal. The menu was a lot more professional-looking than it used to be with its smudged type and cracked plastic coating. But fancy menus or not, the Hard Luck Café had been his favorite restaurant for years, and in his time away he hadn’t found any better.

  “We got salmon on special. Mary poaches it in a lemon sauce that’s out of this world.” Ben extravagantly kissed his fingertips as he spoke.

  In the old days, Ben had served everything loaded down with fat and extra calories. No more; his wife, Mary, had seen to that. Healthy food choices had started appearing on the menu when Ben married her, although the changes had been fairly subtle.

  “Salmon sounds good, but Mom’s cooking me a feast. I’d better not disappoint her.” He closed the menu and tucked it behind the sugar canister. Ben automatically poured him a mug of coffee.

  “So I hear you’re going to be flying with your dad and Christian.”

  “I am.” His hands cupped the mug. Scott had earned his pilot’s license when he was sixteen. Whereas most teens hungered for their driver’s license, Scott had been far more interested in learning to fly. After his stint in the army, he’d worked for a flight service out of Utah, flying tourists over the Canyonlands. He’d been content during those years, enjoying his freedom and earning decent money. He’d had friends, lots of them, and a number of women he saw on a regular basis—but these relationships were all casual, without depth or commitment. He’d also been engaged once, but that had turned into a spectacular mess, and he hadn’t repeated the experience. Then, a month ago, he’d suddenly realized he’d been running away from what he wanted most, and that was his home and his family. He missed Alaska, regretted the anger of his youth and the pain he’d brought his parents. It was time to make amends. In fact, it was long past time.

  And then there was Chrissie.

  He smiled just thinking about their encounter that morning. When he announced that he’d merely come for legal advice, she’d looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He’d managed not to laugh then but he couldn’t restrain his amusement now. He chuckled, replaying the scene in his mind.

  “Did I miss something funny?” Ben asked, sidling up to the counter and leaning against it just as he had for more years than Scott could remember.

  “Not really,” Scott told him, suppressing his mirth. “Just something that happened this morning, soon after I got here.”

&n
bsp; “Oh.”

  Scott had stopped by Chrissie’s office on business, but he was willing to admit there was more to it than that. He’d wanted to see her and, in fact, had been anticipating their meeting for weeks.

  Chrissie was one of the reasons he’d stayed away from Hard Luck and one of the reasons he’d come home.

  “Seems just like the old days seeing you again,” Ben said.

  “The old days,” Scott repeated. Back then, the Hard Luck Café had been the gathering place for the entire community. Men, in particular, used to meet at Ben’s the way some might socialize in a tavern. Not only that, many people in the community, if not most, had come to Ben at one time or another to talk through their troubles. Scott suspected they continued to do so.

  “Do you still have that Frequent Eater program?” Scott asked.

  “Nah,” Ben answered with a grin. “Don’t need it. These days I got more business than I know what to do with.”

  Scott nodded; he wasn’t surprised that Ben’s remained popular. He knew that over the years a couple of other restaurants had opened, but the Hard Luck Café was—and deserved to be—everyone’s favorite. Ben was officially retired; however, he couldn’t quite keep his hands out of the business.

  “I remember you as a youngster, sitting on one of those stools,” Ben said with genuine fondness.

  “Only seems right to see you here now.”

  “It used to be I could talk to you about anything,” Scott recalled.

  “Still can, if you’ve got a hankering,” Ben assured him.

  Scott was tempted. Many a time he’d talked out his problems with Ben Hamilton. Many a time he’d felt as if the world was against him. Few people knew it, but Ben was the one who’d suggested Scott consider enlisting in the military. A former navy man, he’d been disappointed when Scott chose the army. But not as disappointed as Sawyer that he hadn’t decided on the air force.

  Back then, Scott had been downright contrary. Angry, too, only he didn’t know why or at what. Eventually he’d recognized that it wasn’t Sawyer he hated or even his biological father, a man who’d rejected his own wife and children. He knew now that he’d been old enough at the time of his parents’ separation to be aware of his father’s rejection and to be seriously hurt by it, to wonder if he was somehow to blame. The teen years had become increasingly difficult, and then Eagle Catcher, his husky, had died. The grief he’d felt over the loss of his dog—a grief he couldn’t share—had turned to anger. Hardly understanding himself, he’d lashed out at those he loved most. The things he’d said and done deeply embarrassed him now.