Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska

by Loree Lough

  “Find me a job, and maybe I’ll stay.”

  Sam remembered that before she left Baltimore, Susan had applied for a teaching job at Bill’s school. If the principal had hired her, it was no wonder Bill had lost his enthusiasm for work.

  “So how are things at that Christmas shop of yours?” he asked.

  Sam blinked, uncertain what to make of the abrupt turn in the conversation. “I’ve accomplished a lot, but there’s still more to be done.”

  “I think Cora hit the old nail on the head.”

  “When…”.

  “When she said the good Lord knew what He was doing, putting you in charge of Rudolph’s instead of running Dan Brooks’ restaurant. I haven’t seen your eyes light up this way about anything in years.”

  She opened her mouth to ask “you think so?” when he added, “…except when you’re talking about your boss, that is.” And using a french fry as a pointer, Bill said, “And unless he wants a serious butt-kicking, he’d better treat you right.”

  “Love you, too, Billy.”

  “So when do I get to meet this marine of yours?”

  “He’s not mine,” she reminded him. Then, “I’m making your favorite for supper—”

  “Lasagna?” He rubbed his palms together. “I haven’t had any decent Italian food since before you steered that big ugly RV west.” He popped a fry into his mouth. “Is your, ah, boss going to join us?”

  Sam shrugged. “He’s invited. Hard to tell whether or not he’ll show up.” And giving in to impulse, she reached across the table and grabbed his hands. “You’ll like him. You two have a lot in common…but I’ll let you figure that out tonight.”

  “If he shows up, y’mean.” Bill sat back. “I have to admit, kiddo…Alaska—or somebody who lives here—becomes you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “So what’s your brother up to this morning?”

  “Adjusting to the four-hour time difference,” Sam said. “It took me days to get used to it.”

  Bryce cringed as Sam stood atop the wobbly painter’s ladder dusting Christmas ornaments. “So how long were you with the circus?”

  Her hands froze, and frowning, she looked down at him. “Circus?”

  Pencil poised above the ledger, he said, “Well, there you are, up there making like the tightrope walker. Again. I just naturally assumed…”

  “Pshaw.”

  Who but Sam would say “pshaw,” he wondered as she went back to dusting.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Besides, I’m nearly finished with this shelf.”

  And then what, he wanted to say, you’ll do a swan dive as an encore…without a net? But before he could form the words, Bryce realized she was cranking up to sneeze, and from the looks of things, it would be rafter-shaking. “Sam, be carefu—”

  Too late. Just as he feared it might, the sneeze threw her off balance. Arms clawing the air as the dust rag dropped to the floor, she grabbed for the ladder’s top rung, making it teeter from the top down.

  Papers flew from the counter as Bryce leaped up to steady the ladder. Thankfully, she didn’t fall, and he heaved a grateful sigh. Pressing his forehead to the ladder’s side rail, he said, “Sam…now will you get down from there?”

  Even terror-struck, her voice overflowed with music. “Okay. Just…just give me a minute to stop shaking.”

  “I’m right here,” he promised, patting her jeans-clad calf. “If you fall, I’ll catch you. You’ve got my word.”

  It seemed to take forever for her to descend the dilapidated old ladder, and even before both sneakered feet hit the floor, he gathered her close. Bryce could feel her heart beating hard against his chest, telling him her earlier bravado had died a quick death up there on that top rung. “You scared me to death. Don’t let me catch you taking a chance like that again, you hear me?”

  Sam took a tiny step back and looked up into his face with a trembly smile. “Yessir, boss.” Then, “It’s your fault, you know. You were supposed to replace that old thing.”

  Despite the teasing words, Sam’s voice was still shaky, and Bryce frowned. She felt so tiny, so vulnerable, standing there in his arms, that he wanted to kiss the fear from her face. He might have done it, too, if the door hadn’t burst open.

  “Samantha Sinclair, I’m telling Mom!”

  “Billy!” she said, leaving his arms to hug her brother. “I thought you were going to sleep till noon.”

  “I tried, but all this commotion down here woke me up.” Grinning, he held out a hand to Bryce. “Name’s Bill Sinclair.”

  “Good to finally meet you,” Bryce said. “Sam’s been talking about you pretty much nonstop.”

  The overhead music changed just then, from Elvis Presley’s “White Christmas” to Gene Autry’s famous recording of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Bill shook his head. “You guys here in North Pole listen to that kinda stuff all day?”

  “All day, every day,” Bryce droned.

  “Then maybe when you get a minute,” Bill said, his thumb indicating the overhead speaker, “you’ll tell me how you keep from going stark-raving mad.”

  It was immediately apparent that Sam’s sense of humor ran in the family. “Oh, I think I’m gonna like your brother,” he told Sam.

  Propping one fist on her hip, she feigned shock. “Ack! I’m outnumbered by scrooges!”

  “I’m not a scrooge,” Bill said.

  “It’d just be nice if every once in a while,” Bryce added, “somebody would play a country tune or—”

  “—or some jazz.”

  “Blues.”

  “Classical.”

  “I’d even settle for opera now and then!”

  “Uncle,” Sam interrupted, both hands up in mock surrender, “I get the picture!”

  The threesome enjoyed a round of laughter. “I have a ton of stuff to do in the storeroom,” Sam said, “but I’ll have supper ready at five, sharp. That’s seventeen hundred to you,” she said, looking at Bryce. “Don’t either of you show up late.”

  Grinning, Bryce said, “Yes, boss.”

  Bill looked from his sister to her employer and back again. “Maybe I’ll mosey on over to the diner, find out if that cute little waitress flirts with all her customers, or if I was a special case.” He was halfway out the door before he added, “I was only kidding earlier, by the way. I won’t tell Mom what you were doing before I so rudely interrupted.” Smirking, he walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

  If Sam’s whole family was like Bill, Bryce thought he’d get along with them just fine.

  Sam had loaded the CD player with non-Christmas disks, and the threesome played a rousing game of Name That Tune all through dinner. Not surprisingly, Bill the Karaoke King won hands down. And while he rifled through Sam’s music collection for more songs, Bryce volunteered to help clear the dishes and get dessert on the table.

  “I really like your brother,” he said, stacking plates on the counter.

  She took a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream from the freezer compartment. “He likes you, too. I can tell.”

  Bryce grabbed its door in time to keep her from thumping her forehead on it.

  “Oh wow,” she said, rubbing the spot it might have hit, “thanks.”

  Scooping up a handful of dirty silverware, Sam opened the dishwasher as Bryce slid out the lower rack. They both bent at the same time, clunking heads in the process.

  “Hard as a rock!” they said together. “Great minds think alike?” they recited simultaneously.

  The laughter started slow and escalated until they found themselves leaning on one another, limp with glee.

  She was about to tell him that the ice cream was probably soft enough to serve when his cell phone rang.

  “It’s Olive,” he said, grinning as he read the caller ID.

  “Tell her I said hello and to keep having a good time. And that we miss her.”

  Winking, Bryce disappeared into his apartment.

  Fifteen minutes later,
when he joined Bill and Sam in her living room, he seemed quiet and distant.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “I guess.” He shook his head. “At least, that’s what Olive says.”

  “So what makes you think she isn’t?”

  “Can’t put my finger on it, but something seemed…off.”

  Bill cleared his throat then stood and stretched. “I hate to be a party pooper,” he said, “but it’s been a long day. I think I’ll turn in, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course we don’t mind.” Sam gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “Sleep tight, brother dear.”

  “Pancakes in the morning?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “You bet.”

  He crossed the room in three long strides, and in the bedroom doorway, said, “Have you shown your boss your new wheels yet?”

  “Not yet. Tomorrow, maybe.” She chanced a peek at Bryce and caught his wary expression. “Oh, don’t be such a worry wart. It has four-wheel drive!”

  Once Bill had closed the bedroom door, she sat beside Bryce on the couch. “Did Olive let you talk with Duke?”

  He leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees and hands clasped in the space between. “No. She said she’d sent him to the lobby for ice.”

  “Maybe they had their first marital spat,” Sam suggested. “This is a big step for both of them, Olive, especially. I mean…she’s lived alone most of her life, so naturally it’ll be a challenge—and a major adjustment—learning to share her life with someone. Even someone she loves as much as Duke.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess that could explain things….”

  “But you think it’s somehow connected with the way she behaved and looked before she left for the honeymoon.”

  Turning, he looked deep into her eyes. “How could you possibly know that?”

  It wasn’t much of a stretch, since she’d been the one to bring it to Bryce’s attention. Right now, all Sam wanted was to ease his mind and erase that look of concern from his face! “Will you pray with me?”

  He sucked in a huge gulp of air and let it go slowly. “Aw, Sam, I don’t know. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve talked to God, out loud, anyway,” he admitted. “I’m pretty rusty….”

  “You did a fine job the night Duke asked for your blessing on their marriage, as I recall. But even if you are rusty, the Lord won’t mind.”

  Silence was his answer.

  “Do you mind if I pray, then?”

  “Here?”

  “Why not?”

  “Now?”

  “No time like the present.” Sam bowed her head and closed her eyes and silently asked the Almighty’s guidance, so that whatever words He put upon her heart to pray would be those Bryce most needed to hear. Then she grasped his hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

  “Dear heavenly Father,” she began, “we can’t know what Olive is thinking or feeling while she’s so many miles from home, but You know, because You can read her heart. Shower us with strength, Lord, so we might trust You to watch over her. Bless her and her new husband, and let them enjoy these last days of their honeymoon, then bring them safely back to the friends and family who miss them so much. And Lord, I ask that You shower Bryce with the peace and serenity that comes from knowing You are in control, always and forever. We ask these things in Your most holy name, amen.”

  A moment passed before he spoke, and when he did, Bryce’s voice was deep and gravelly. “That was…that was perfect.” Nothing could have surprised her more than when he hugged her tight and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed that Bryce seemed to be avoiding her. At first, she told herself he was just giving her time to visit with Bill, but despite numerous invitations, Bryce hadn’t shared a meal—or a moment, for that matter—with them since the night Olive had called from Florida.

  Sam racked her brain, trying to remember what she might have said or done to cause his standoffish behavior, and couldn’t think of a single thing. What choice did she have but to blame the prayer she’d foisted upon him after Bill went to bed that night? He’d made it clear that the whole idea made him uncomfortable, but as usual, Sam went right ahead and did what she wanted.

  Olive had told her that Bryce had never been the most spiritual guy, and that numerous battles had only increased his scoffing attitude toward God. The accumulation of tragedies weighed heavily on him, Olive had explained, so heavily that he’d done everything possible to wall himself off from the rest of the world…and God

  “All he really needed,” his aunt had told Sam, “was a little tough love, and I was more than happy to dole it out!” And with time and prayer, she believed her nephew had healed, inside and out.

  But Sam knew better. Oh, his physical injuries had healed, but emotionally and spiritually, Bryce was hurting, and rather than admit it, he’d learned how to hide his feelings. Something told her that his sometimes sullen behavior had been hard-earned on the battlefield—but that with the constant care and tender ministrations of someone he could trust, he’d heal on the inside, too.

  Bryce’s aunt wasn’t here to dispense tough love this time, but if that’s what he needed, Sam was more than happy to act as Olive’s standin. And if she wasn’t tough enough to endure a few retaliatory verbal jabs to the chin, then she wasn’t cut out to share Forever with him, literally or figuratively.

  Olive had said, time and again, that she believed the Lord had sent Sam to North Pole for reasons other than a chef’s job. Sam had pooh-poohed the idea back then, but now? She believed Olive had been right. When it had happened, exactly, Sam couldn’t say. But she’d stopped pretending that her feelings for Bryce were strictly business. She liked him. Liked him a lot.

  Sam’s favorite Bible verse came to mind, and as she mentally recited 1 Corinthians 10:13, she nodded as a sense of peace settled over her, knowing in her heart that the Father had, indeed, provided a means for her to escape hard times. How else could she explain the idea she’d come up with to help Bryce turn his dream of a carpentry shop into a reality?

  Sam paid extra attention to her outfit that morning, choosing clothes and colors that had inspired compliments from him before. He seemed to prefer her curly hair long and loose, and so she didn’t pull it into clips or a ponytail. She wore a pink sweater over her jeans and a tad more mascara and lipstick than usual because, as Bill astutely pointed out, “It’s not easy for a guy to growl at a pretty girl.”

  She found Bryce in his workshop, bent over a tool bench. He barely looked up when she crossed from the big double doors to the table that held a dozen awls and chisels, saws and drills. “Brought you some coffee,” she said, “just the way you like it.” And holding up a brown paper bag, Sam added, “Made you a tuna sandwich, too. Where would you like me to—”

  “Just leave it over there.” Using a Phillips head screwdriver, he pointed at the one bare spot on the table.

  She decided to ignore his rude response. Maybe, like her dad, he didn’t appreciate being interrupted while he was working.

  Sam spotted a battered clock radio on the shelf behind him and walked over to it. “Does this thing pull in any decent stations?” she asked, reaching for the On button.

  “Yeah, it does. But I’d rather not listen right now…if you don’t mind.”

  Was that his way of telling her he didn’t intend to cave to her control, as he had the night she’d prayed for him and Olive? Sam inhaled, determined to give it one more shot. “I baked brownies this morning and wrapped a couple in foil for you.” She shrugged. “Dessert, you could call it, for after you finish your—”

  “Was that a delivery truck I saw out back this morning?”

  “Yeah, bringing the Christmas cards Olive ordered right before she—”

  “Have you unpacked them already?”

  “Well, not entirely. I’m still trying to rearrange the stock, so I can group like items together. Customers
have a much easier time finding what they’re looking for if—”

  “And the stuff that came yesterday? Is it all inventoried and labeled and ready for the shelves?”

  Was Bryce deliberately testing the limits of her patience, or did it just seem like he wanted to get a rise out of her? She’d come in here with nothing but good intentions. If this was an example of how he’d treated Olive after he came home from the war, well, the woman had a stronger constitution than Sam had given her credit for. “ ‘Love is patient, love is kind,’ ” she whispered through clenched teeth. “ ‘Love is patient, love is kind…’ ”

  The brow above his eye patch raised slightly as he asked, “What’s that?”

  “Oh, nothing.” And in a brighter, louder voice, Sam added, “I’ll be in the shop if you need me.” She stomped to the door and resisted the urge to slam it. Thought about snarling, “You’re welcome for lunch!” but bit her tongue. Felt like stomping right back up to him and planting a big juicy kiss on his lips.

  Now there was an idea…

  What started as a little smirk had grown into a full-blown smile by the time Sam stood directly in front of him. She paid no attention to his shocked expression. Instead, she pressed a palm to each of his cheeks and stood on tiptoe.

  When Bryce realized what she aimed to do, he leaned backward. “But…but I had an onion bagel for breakfast,” he said, “and haven’t brushed my—”

  She felt his shoulders tense as their lips met, heard a soft sigh escape his lungs. Slowly, one of his big hands moved to cup the back of her head as the other pressed gently into the small of her back. And, just as he started to really respond to the kiss…Sam stepped back and gave his broad chest a pat-pat-pat.

  “There’s more where that came from, if you can get over your grumpy self,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and marched toward the exit, knowing she’d see his stunned expression every time she closed her eyes.

  And the thought made her giggle all the way back to Rudolph’s.