Born in a Small Town

by Debbie Macomber

  “Morning,” he greeted her cheerfully. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and didn’t bother to look up.

  Her smile quickly faded. “Where’s Duke?”

  “Sleeping in, I assume.” Scott finally glanced up. “I’m taking the morning flight.”

  Chrissie hesitated, unsure what to do.

  He reached for a clipboard and headed out the door. He paused when she didn’t follow. “You coming or not?” he asked, as if it was of little concern to him. “I’m leaving now. I have some deliveries to make in Fairbanks.”

  Chrissie figured she didn’t have any choice. She might as well get used to being around Scott, no matter how uncomfortable she felt.

  Climbing into the plane, she was relieved when Scott immediately placed a pair of headphones over his ears. Making polite conversation with him would have been difficult, and at least he’d circumvented any requirement to do so. He ran through a flight-check list before starting the engine of the Lake LA4 amphibious plane. He could have been flying alone for all the attention he paid her.

  Frankly, that was the way Chrissie wanted it. Yet when they soared into the endless blue skies toward Fairbanks, she found herself wishing circumstances could’ve been different. This wasn’t the first time she’d flown with Scott; she’d been in the air with him dozens of times. In Hard Luck planes were equivalent to cars anywhere else. More than one summer’s afternoon had been spent flying to nearby lakes for a refreshing swim.

  The first time he’d ever kissed her had been underwater. They’d done plenty of kissing above water, too. Chrissie closed her eyes, not wanting to remember.

  At the first sign of Fairbanks, she relaxed, grateful to be close to her destination and away from the confines of the plane. Away from Scott. His landing was smooth, a greaser as the pilots called it, and the aircraft came down gently, touching the tarmac with barely a jolt.

  “Nice landing,” Chrissie said when Scott removed the headphones.

  “Thanks.”

  “Will you be flying me back tomorrow afternoon?” Not that it mattered, but she wanted to know.

  “My name’s on the schedule.” He unlatched the door and climbed out, his jaw noticeably tight—as though her question had angered him.

  Refusing to allow his mood to intimidate her, Chrissie opened her own door and climbed down the wing, rejecting Scott’s offer of assistance. Once firmly on the ground, she slipped her backpack over her shoulders and straightened. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  He nodded curtly.

  Without another word, Chrissie turned and started toward the terminal.

  “Have fun with your boyfriend,” he called after her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Boyfriend? She couldn’t imagine where he got that idea. Chrissie thought about explaining that she was mentoring a twelve-year-old girl, then changed her mind. Perhaps it was for the best if Scott believed she was involved with another man. Not many people knew about her work with the experimental foster-care program. Her parents, of course, and Tracy. She’d briefly mentioned it to Ben’s wife, too, but none of the details; she’d only referred to visiting Joelle on a particular weekend.

  Joelle’s group home was a foster-care program being tested by the state. School-age children were placed in a situation similar to a boarding-school facility. Each student was assigned a volunteer mentor from the community, who spent time with the child, encouraging and listening.

  Chrissie had been working with Joelle for two years and had grown to love the quiet soft-spoken child. At first it was all Chrissie could do to get the painfully shy girl to speak above a whisper. Gradually, over time, thanks to the support of the group home and the trust Chrissie had built, Joelle grew more confident. Chrissie could hardly recognize the child she’d first met in the smiling chattering girl Joelle had become.

  “I leave at four o’clock sharp,” Scott shouted.

  “I’ll be on time,” Chrissie responded, tossing the words over her shoulder.

  “See that you are,” he snapped, “or I’ll leave without you.”

  His parting shot annoyed her, and she jerked open the heavy glass door leading to the terminal. Her frown quickly changed to a smile as Joelle raced toward her. “Chrissie, Chrissie!” the girl shouted. “Guess what? I got an A on my essay for English!”

  Chrissie enveloped the girl in a hug as a surge of joy and triumph rushed through her. Joelle had come so far, and Chrissie couldn’t help feeling a personal pride in the progress she’d made. Every accomplishment was significant, Chrissie knew; every accomplishment took her farther from her disadvantaged past and toward a hopeful future.

  “Oh, Joelle, I’m so proud of you.” Simple words, spoken with heartfelt sincerity, and it was a wonder to see the smile on the girl’s face.

  “I’ve got a busy weekend planned for us,” Chrissie told her.

  Joelle wrapped an arm around Chrissie’s waist. “I brought my paper if you want to read it.”

  “You bet I do,” she told her, and they walked out of the terminal together.

  FOUR O’CLOCK Sunday afternoon, as promised, Chrissie was back at the airport. Two days with Joelle, and she was exhausted. A friend who worked as a flight attendant for one of the airlines let Chrissie use her apartment. The arrangement worked well for them both. Jackie usually had weekend assignments, and whenever she was on duty, Chrissie watered her plants and brought in her mail.

  Scott was waiting for her. “We may have trouble with the weather,” he said by way of greeting.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  He stared at her. “A storm front’s headed toward us. Would you understand the meteorological details if I explained them?”

  “Probably, but I’ll just take your word for it,” she said. “Are we stuck in Fairbanks?”

  “Not if I can help it. I’ve been on the phone for the last thirty minutes. If we leave now, we can squeak through. Ready to go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.” He led her to the plane and Chrissie dutifully followed him and climbed inside, fastening the seat belt. Although she knew they were in a hurry, she was reassured that Scott took the time to go over the preflight checklist thoroughly.

  It was nearly dusk when they soared into the sky, which was clear and cloudless. Those conditions, however, didn’t last. About halfway between Fairbanks and Hard Luck, they hit thick cloud cover and heavy winds, and the plane pitched and heaved. Rain and sleet lashed them from all directions, and ice started to build up on the wings. Chrissie didn’t need to be a pilot to know how dangerous that was.

  Although she’d flown in every type of weather, the rough-and-tumble ride unsettled her. During one particularly bad stretch, she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

  “You okay?” Scott asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Talking into his headset, Scott was busy for several minutes. “We’re going down,” he suddenly announced, his voice emotionless.

  Adrenaline bolted through her. “We’re landing? Where?” It was nearly nightfall and raining. She could barely make out the landscape below.

  Scott, however, was concentrating on the radio, reporting the details of where they were, and he didn’t answer her.

  Chrissie clenched her hands tightly as he circled the area and slowly made his descent. By the time the lake came into view, her nerves were shot. Just as flawlessly as he’d landed the day before, Scott guided the plane onto the water’s surface and cut the engine, gliding it toward shore.

  “Where are we?” she asked once her heart had stopped pounding.

  Scott heaved a sigh as he took off his headphones. “Lake Abbey. We’ll wait out the storm here.”

  Terrific, just terrific; he’d chosen the very lake where he’d first kissed her. The lake Sawyer O’Halloran had named after his wife.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SCOTT MANEUVERED the plane as close to shore as possible, all the while feeling Chrissie’s glare. The wo
man was in a rage, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he’d invented this storm or conjured it up, although to tell the truth, he wasn’t really complaining. It gave him the opportunity to talk to Chrissie without her dashing off the way she usually did whenever he was in the vicinity.

  “You did this on purpose,” she accused him.

  “If you want something to blame, I suggest you look at the weather,” Scott replied.

  “The storm’s only an excuse, and you know it. We never should’ve left Fairbanks.”

  She had him there, but he’d honestly believed they could slide in before the cold front hit. Rather than argue with her, he said calmly, “My family built a cabin here.” He cringed at how damned convenient that sounded; not only did it seem like a setup, but she already knew about the cabin. So she probably figured he’d planned this all along.

  “I suppose you’re going to suggest we wait out the storm there,” she said scathingly.

  “Well, yes…” No wonder she doubted him, but as God was his witness, he hadn’t planned it.

  “I’m well aware of your parents’ cabin,” Chrissie returned defiantly, crossing her arms.

  “You’re welcome to spend the night in the plane,” he said nonchalantly. She couldn’t—he wouldn’t allow it—but she didn’t know that. He’d make his way to the cabin, build a fire, and if she hadn’t shown up by the time he finished, he’d go back for her.

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Scott should have suspected as much. He didn’t remember Chrissie being this obstinate, but then, he hadn’t been around her for a number of years.

  “I’m going to the cabin,” he told her, opening the aircraft’s door. A bone-chilling blast of Arctic wind shook him, and he gasped at the shock of it.

  “I have plenty of blankets here,” she told him, sounding less sure of herself now.

  “If you need anything, just holler.” He closed the door, wondering if he should drag her out of the plane right then and there. Damn her pride, she was being ridiculous—again. But he quickly realized that after Chrissie had spent thirty minutes sitting in the frigid cold, her attitude would soften.

  Edging along the pontoon, Scott leaped from the plane onto the shore. Luckily his boots protected his feet from the icy water. A flashlight led him toward the cabin through a night as black as he’d ever seen. Moon and stars were hidden by dark clouds, and there was no snow to provide even a tiny bit of reflection. The rain still pelted down.

  He reached the cabin without incident. Scott’s parents, Sawyer and Abbey, had built the log structure about fifteen years earlier, with plenty of help from family and friends. It’d been quite a feat and required nearly three years of planning. Naturally the cabin had no modern conveniences, but it’d served as a family vacation home ever since.

  As soon as he was inside, Scott lit the lantern and set it in the window, making sure the light was visible for Chrissie, should she change her mind. He couldn’t keep from looking out, although it was difficult to see anything more than the faintest silhouette of the plane.

  His next challenge was to get a fire going. Luckily everything he needed—logs, kindling and matches—had been left within easy access for just such an emergency. Once he had the wood burning, Scott checked the cupboards. Again, his family had provided an adequate supply of canned goods. He and Chrissie shouldn’t be trapped here long, four or five hours at most. The worst of the storm would pass by then, and they’d be able to land safely in Hard Luck early tomorrow morning.

  He had the coffeepot brewing on the old stove when he thought he heard a noise outside. It was probably just the wind, but in case it was Chrissie, he wanted to appear as relaxed as possible. If she happened to peek inside, he wanted her to think he didn’t have a care in the world. Throwing himself down on the big chair, he leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

  Ten minutes later his patience was gone, vanished along with the pretense. Chrissie was an idiot if she thought he was going to leave her to wait out the storm in the plane while he sat, warm and cozy, inside the cabin. He grabbed his coat, determined to trudge back to the lake.

  The wind was now mixed with ice and snow, and it stung his face when he opened the door. He shone the beam of light on the narrow footpath leading to the water’s edge. Shoulders hunched against the wind and rain, he kept his gaze down. The flashlight guided his steps, illuminating the walkway a few feet at a time. Scott paused when the light fell on a pair of wet boots. Chrissie.

  “I…I changed my mind,” she announced.

  Scott bit off any chastisement, although he had plenty he wanted to say. Instead, he held out his hand. “I’ll help you.”

  She hesitated before slipping her gloved hand in his. “Thank you.”

  She moved close to his side, and his arm went about her waist as he helped her to the cabin. With the wind at their backs, propelling them forward, they were at the door within minutes.

  The cabin was warm, comfortable and surprisingly intimate, despite its size. At first Chrissie stayed near the door, as if she feared what might happen if she advanced completely into the large open room.

  “How about a cup of coffee?” Scott asked, his back to her.

  “Please.”

  He dared not turn around for fear she’d see the amusement in his eyes. Judging by the way she maintained her distance, she apparently expected him to ravish her at any minute.

  “You were able to let someone know where we are?” she asked, rubbing her hands together as she stood in front of the fire, which was now burning well. The wood crackled and flames leaped merrily, casting warmth throughout the room.

  “Duke took the message.” Her lack of trust distressed him, and the situation no longer seemed amusing.

  “Good,” she said briskly.

  He poured them each a steaming cup of fresh coffee. He found sugar but no cream; there was, however, a bottle of whiskey, and he doctored his coffee with that. Might as well get comfort where he could. She declined.

  Making himself comfortable, Scott sat in the big overstuffed chair Sawyer favored. If Chrissie wanted to act like a piece of cardboard, that was fine by him, but he intended to relax. Despite the impression he’d given, landing the plane during the storm had been a stressful experience. “I haven’t been here in years,” he said, glancing around, seeing the cabin with new eyes.

  “Me…too.”

  “The last time—” He stopped abruptly the second he realized exactly when that last time was. Five years ago. He’d been with his sister and Chrissie; it was the summer they graduated from college.

  “The last time you were here was with me, wasn’t it?” Chrissie asked. She sat on the sofa across from him, huddled over her cup as though it was something that required her protection. Her boots and socks were off and drying by the fireplace. She sat with her bare feet tucked beneath her.

  “Seems like a lifetime ago,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He’d watched Chrissie that day and he’d remembered everything he’d spent the past few years trying to forget. Even after he’d hurt her, she’d been trusting and sweet. The teenage girl he’d left behind had matured into a woman. That afternoon had been one of the most wonderful of his life; it’d opened his eyes to what he really wanted. All this time he’d been running away—from his family, his town, the people he’d known—and until that afternoon he hadn’t realized how much he missed Chrissie, how much he needed her.

  His original plan had been to fly into Hard Luck, attend the graduation party, then head out immediately afterward. His relationship with his mother and Sawyer was strained, and he hadn’t wanted to over-stay his welcome. During his years away, he’d made a new life for himself, first in the military and after that, in Utah. He’d hurt his parents, embarrassed them. It seemed better for everyone involved if he kept out of their lives.

  To his surprise, Sawyer and his mother had been genuinely delighted to see him, and willing to put the past behind them. He’d loved spending time
with Susan, Anna and Ryan, and he’d remained in Hard Luck for ten days. His reluctance to leave, however, was due to more than his family. Scott had lingered in town because of Chrissie.

  With Sawyer’s permission, he’d borrowed the Cessna, had Ben pack him a lunch and then taken off with his high-school sweetheart for an afternoon of swimming and fun. As soon as he could manage it, Scott had Chrissie back in his arms again.

  The minute they’d kissed, those five years had dissolved and it was as if he’d never left. Every time they kissed, he had another reason to stay. Every time they touched, he felt a sense of rightness. This was home. This was Chrissie, the first girl he’d ever loved, the only girl he’d ever loved….

  “Are you tired?” he asked, wanting to cut off his memories before they took him into territory best left undisturbed.

  “Exhausted,” Chrissie admitted, sounding more relaxed now that she’d had a warm drink.

  “I’ll scrounge up some blankets from the loft.” He was anxious to do something, preferably something that required movement. Sitting around reminiscing about the one summer afternoon he most wanted to forget wouldn’t help matters. Unfortunately it was the same summer afternoon he most wanted to remember.

  He straightened the ladder that led to the loft. His parents used the upper area for storage in case bears broke into the cabin. Climbing up, he discovered that his mother had packed everything neatly away for the winter, but it didn’t take him long to find extra bedding.

  Grabbing several blankets, he carried them down for Chrissie. She’d finished her coffee and placed her mug in the sink.

  “If you want, you can sleep down here on the sofa close to the fire,” he suggested.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll take the loft.”

  She nodded again.

  “Good night, Chrissie.”

  “Night,” she muttered, her voice suspiciously low.

  Scott started up the ladder, then stopped. “Chrissie?” he asked, uncertain what had changed. Clearly something had. He heard it in her voice, although she kept her head averted and he couldn’t see her expression.