“Fine,” he growled. “Has Ralph been in yet?”
“No,” she answered.
Christian glanced at her and seemed surprised by her terse reply. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” she assured him sweetly. She refused to give him cause for complaint, and every time he looked her way she made sure she was the picture of contentment. Not that he looked over very often.
Whatever was on the computer screen commanded his full attention. He sat up straight in his chair and peered at it for long minutes. Finally, without lifting his eyes, he asked abruptly, “Where’s Ted?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’m going over to the bunkhouse to see if I can find him.”
“I thought you asked about Ralph.”
“Nope, I need to see Ted.” He left as if it was a dire emergency.
He didn’t close down his computer, and out of curiosity, Mariah got up to look at his screen. He’d been reviewing the flight schedule for the week. The mail runs into Fairbanks were made on a rotation basis. Ralph had made the run the previous week, but Ted was scheduled to do it this week.
Ted appeared in the office soon afterward wearing a forlorn expression. “Christian asked me to tell you he’ll be going into Fairbanks this morning.”
Mariah made a note of the change. “Thanks, Ted.”
So Christian was interested in flying into Fairbanks. That could mean only one thing.
He’d be seeing Vickie again.
KAREN CALDWELL SANG quietly to herself as she placed the Noah’s-ark stencil along the bottom of the freshly painted wall. The baby’s nursery was coming along nicely. She felt a constant undercurrent of excitement these days. Preparing the room, buying clothes, reading infant-care books—it all made the baby seem so real.
“Karen.” Matt’s voice boomed from the lobby.
“In here,” she shouted over her shoulder. Unfolding her legs, she got to her feet, eager to talk to her husband. All at once, the room started to spin and she promptly sat down again.
Matt must’ve seen what happened because he rushed in. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
She smiled up at his worried face, loving him all the more for his concern. “Nothing. I’m fine. I guess I just stood up too quickly.”
“Getting dizzy like that—are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “What about the baby?”
“It happens to everyone now and then, not just pregnant women.”
“You’re sure?” he asked again. He didn’t sound like he believed her.
“Positive.”
He still didn’t look reassured. “I’d feel better if Dotty checked you out.”
“All right,” she agreed, “but after lunch.” Her appetite had increased lately, and Karen suspected her body was making up for the weight she’d lost during her first months of pregnancy, when she’d been so ill.
“Actually,” she told him as he led the way into the kitchen, “I feel wonderful.” Working on the nursery made the baby’s birth seem so close. The crib and other furniture had arrived a few days earlier, and they’d assembled everything over the weekend.
“You look wonderful,” her husband told her. He gazed at her intently, then the worried expression fled his eyes and they softened with love.
Karen went about making toasted cheese sandwiches while Matt opened a can of soup. “I have a feeling we’re going to lose Mariah soon,” Matt said as if the subject was on his mind.
Karen had been thinking the same thing. “I blame Christian for that. I swear that man left his brains behind somewhere.”
“He’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.”
“You should know,” Karen teased.
Matt made a show of protesting. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, splaying his hands across her abdomen. “How come Abbey and Sawyer get an ultrasound and we don’t?”
“Because I’m under thirty-five, so the doctor didn’t think it was necessary. Besides, I’d rather be surprised by the baby’s sex.”
“Sawyer passed around the picture of the ultrasound at Ben’s this morning, proud as could be over a few blurry lines.” Matt sounded a little wistful.
“Do you want a picture to pass around, too?” she asked sympathetically.
He nuzzled her neck. “I guess I do.”
“I can ask the doctor at my next appointment. But, Matt, I’d really prefer not to know if we’re having a boy or a girl until the baby’s born. Okay?”
“Okay.” He spread kisses down the side of her neck.
Karen yawned unexpectedly. Every afternoon, like clockwork, she slept a good hour, sometimes two. Again she suspected this was her body’s way of regaining strength after the first turbulent months of her pregnancy.
“I wish there was something I could do for Mariah,” Karen said as she carried the sandwiches to the table.
Matt emptied the soup into two bowls. “I don’t know what. She has to make her own decisions, just like Christian does.”
“Maybe you could talk to him.”
“Not a chance! He’s got two brothers, but I imagine they feel the same way about all this as we do. If it’s anyone’s business to say something to Christian, it’s theirs. I tried to help Lanni’s romance with Charles along and—”
“You did? When?”
“Last year about this time. It didn’t work, and I got myself into hot water with my sister. No one appreciates unsolicited advice.”
“So what can we do?” Karen asked. She really felt for Mariah.
“Nothing.”
“But—”
“I know, sweetheart, but it’s not our affair, and neither Christian nor Mariah would appreciate our interference.”
Sadly Karen acknowledged that he was right.
CHRISTIAN KNEW MARIAH was upset about something the minute he returned from the flight into Fairbanks. If ever there’d been a time he needed to think straight, this morning was it. That was why he’d taken the mail run from Ted.
Mariah had snapped at him earlier, and now she glared at him like a mother bear protecting her cubs—or, maybe, hoping to feed them. One glance told him the only way he was going to walk away whole would be to run for cover.
“I’m back,” he said unnecessarily.
She responded by scowling at him.
He tried again, ignoring her bad mood. “Where’s Sawyer?” His older brother was more accustomed to dealing with women, irrational creatures that they were; he could use Sawyer’s help here. He sighed. First Vickie and now Mariah. And to think, he’d been the one to suggest bringing women to town.
“Sawyer’s out,” was the only response she gave him.
“Did he happen to mention where he was going?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
Mariah seemed to forget he was her employer. Just because he’d practically kissed her feet when she’d agreed to come back didn’t mean she could get uppity with him.
“Do you have any objection to telling me where my brother is?” he asked, hardening his voice.
“None. He said he was going home for lunch.”
Sawyer had been doing that more often lately. If Christian had been aware of the time, he could probably have figured it out himself.
“Thank you,” he said coolly. He sat down at his desk and discovered a number of employment applications lying across the surface. The very ones he’d read through a dozen times the week before. The very ones he’d rejected.
“What are these for?” he asked in a way that would inform her his patience wasn’t limitless.
“You didn’t seem in any hurry to hire my replacement,” she said without emotion, “so I took the liberty of contacting a few of the applicants myself.”
He opened his mouth to object and realized he couldn’t. She was right; he wasn’t in any hurry to replace her. He told himself it was because he couldn’t handle the idea of training a new secretary; it seemed beyond him. Perhaps he was being unfair to Mariah, but he’d ho
ped that in time she’d decide to come back permanently. Then everything would return to the way it used to be.
“I guess you found a number of suitable applicants,” he said, gesturing at his desk.
“I called all of those. I offered the position to Libby Bozeman, who’s accepted. She’ll arrive in Hard Luck a week Friday. I printed up the contract and faxed it to her.”
“You hired her?”
Mariah’s back stiffened. “Yes. As I mentioned earlier, you didn’t seem to be in a hurry to replace me, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“Does Sawyer know?”
“Yes, and he approved Libby.”
“I see.” Christian knew when he was beaten. He leafed through the papers until he found Libby’s application. As he read over the simple form, it shocked him to see how naive they’d been going into this project. He’d requested only the most basic information. He hadn’t even asked for references.
“She looks suitable.” For the life of him, Christian couldn’t remember interviewing her.
“I talked to five or six of the other applicants this morning,” Mariah told him in that prim voice of hers. He could always tell when she was put out, because her voice dipped several degrees below freezing.
“Mrs. Bozeman seemed the most qualified.”
“She’s married?”
“No, but she was—until recently.”
“Was she married last year when I interviewed her?”
“Apparently so.”
“I see.” He did remember her now, and if his memory served him correctly, she was very qualified. Libby Bozeman was a tall, attractive woman, perhaps in her forties; she knew her mind and had no problem speaking it. A no-nonsense woman. Mariah had chosen well.
“If you have no objection, I’ll have an airline ticket sent to her.”
“None whatsoever,” Christian returned in the same crisp tones.
Neither spoke for several minutes. Then, because he had to know, Christian asked. “What about you? Where will you go?” He wondered how Ben felt about taking her back. The café owner was fond of Mariah—for that matter, so was Christian—but it hadn’t worked before and he doubted Mariah would be willing to try again.
“Where will I go?” Mariah repeated softly as if considering the question for the first time.
Christian stopped himself from making several suggestions, all of which would keep her in Hard Luck.
She looked up at him, and it seemed her eyes were brighter than normal. Slowly she released her breath, and when she spoke her voice faltered slightly. “Somewhere I won’t ever have to see you again, Christian O’Halloran.”
CHRISTIAN WALKED BACK to his house later that afternoon, his hands buried in his pockets. His spirits dragged along the road like an untied shoelace, threatening to trip him.
Mariah leaving. Again. Only this time she was leaving more than Midnight Sons. She was leaving Hard Luck. Leaving Alaska. Leaving him.
Libby Bozeman. He was sure she’d work out fine, but damn it all, he wanted Mariah. At least this time she’d agreed to stay until Libby could be properly trained.
Even Sawyer seemed to think it was best to let Mariah go. Christian had approached his brother the minute the two of them were alone, and Sawyer had shrugged and reminded him that they couldn’t force her to stay.
When he reached his house, Christian noticed that Scott and Ronny Gold were playing catch with Eagle Catcher in the front yard of Sawyer’s home across the street. Depressed, he sank onto the top porch step, watching the boys’ carefree play. Scott and Ronny tossed the stick and Eagle Catcher dashed across the yard to retrieve it.
Christian didn’t know how long he sat there taking in the scene. Soon it would be dinnertime, but he didn’t have the energy to cook, nor did he feel like joining Ben at the café. The fact was, he didn’t seem all that hungry.
Susan stuck her head out the door of their house and shouted something Christian couldn’t hear. Ronny Gold took off running, but Scott stayed behind with his dog.
Christian envied Sawyer. It had all been so easy for him. Abbey arrived with the kids, and within a month they’d decided to marry. No muss. No fuss. Easy as pie.
“Hiya, Uncle Christian.”
Caught up in his misery, Christian hadn’t noticed Scott’s approach. Now the ten-year-old was standing on the other side of the fence.
“Hello, Scott.”
“What’s the matter? You don’t look so good.”
Christian couldn’t think of a way to explain his complicated, confused emotions to a child. He couldn’t even explain them to himself.
Scott let himself into the yard and sat down on the step below Christian. “Does this have to do with Mariah leaving?”
Christian’s eyes widened before he realized Scott must’ve heard Sawyer talking about the new secretary to Abbey. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“You want me to give you some advice on romance? I’m good at that.”
“You?”
“Sure. I helped Sawyer before he asked my mom to marry him. I told him about those bath-oil beads that melt in the water.”
Christian gently patted the boy’s shoulder. It wouldn’t be that simple with Mariah. Bath-oil beads weren’t going to help this situation.
“Matt Caldwell asked me for advice on how to get Karen back, too.”
“He did?” That surprised Christian. He’d always assumed Matt’s reconciliation with his pregnant wife had been quick and effortless. She hadn’t been back in Hard Luck long before they’d remarried. Every time he saw them lately, they behaved like newlyweds. It was hard to believe they’d ever been divorced.
“Matt bought an ice-cream bar for me,” Scott told him. “My advice must’ve worked, ’cause he and Karen got married right after that.”
“Good for you.”
Scott leaned his back against the step. “You need any advice, I’ll help you, too.”
“Thanks for the offer, but what’s going on between me and Mariah is different.”
Scott cocked his head to look up at Christian. “How’s that?”
“I really like Mariah.”
“But you aren’t sure you love her,” Scott finished for him.
“Yes,” Christian said, straightening. Scott’s insight surprised him.
“I know what you mean,” the boy said, sounding mature beyond his years. “It’s like me and Chrissie Harris.”
It took Christian a moment to remember that Chrissie was Mitch Harris’s daughter. Mitch and Bethany had married that summer. “What about you and Chrissie?” he asked.
“Well,” Scott said, propping his elbows on the step above. His look was thoughtful. “She’s my little sister’s best friend and she can be a real pest.”
Clearly the boy knew women.
“But I like her,” Scott continued with a heartfelt sigh.
Christian couldn’t believe how adequately Scott had described his feelings about Mariah.
“But you know, sometimes I look at Chrissie and I think she’s got the nicest eyes of any girl I’ve ever seen.”
Christian thought Mariah’s eyes were beautiful, too. The way they drifted shut at the precise moment he knew he needed to kiss her. How her long eyelashes brushed against the high arch of her cheek. How expressive they were, betraying every mood from anger to ecstasy. Her eyes. Oh, yes, she had beautiful eyes.
“Sometimes I think Chrissie’s gotta be the prettiest girl in the world. Even with freckles.”
That, too, accurately described Christian’s feelings. He recalled the time he flew to Seattle and had dinner with Allison Reynolds. Outwardly she was a knockout, but he’d found her frivolous and superficial. Mariah, though…there wasn’t an ounce of phoniness. “Mariah doesn’t have freckles, but I know what you mean.”
Scott grinned. “I thought you would.” Then his expression turned serious. “I like Chrissie ’cause she’s a good friend of Susan’s. I don’t know if Susan would’ve liked living in Hard Luck so m
uch if it wasn’t for Chrissie.”
Christian mentally reviewed the women who’d come and gone in the past year. A number had stayed and settled in the community, and a number had left. Despite the hardships, despite the cold, Mariah had stayed. He’d misjudged her from the start, believing she’d be one of the first to pack her bags and go.
Scott’s sigh was heartfelt. “One day I’ll probably marry Chrissie Harris.”
Christian winced at the word “marry”—it had always made him uncomfortable. “Don’t you think you’re a bit young to be talking about that sort of thing?”
“Sure, I’ve still got a lot of years, and Mom and Dad are already talking about me going to college.”
Christian patted the boy’s shoulder again, more vigorously this time, proud to call him nephew.
“But I’ve decided if I don’t marry Chrissie, I want a girl like her.”
“Scott!” Susan stood on the front porch across the street and hollered at the top of her lungs. “Dinner!”
“You should get going.”
“Yeah. Mom’s serving my favorite meat loaf tonight. She got the recipe out of the newspaper a long time ago from some lady who writes an advice column.”
“Don’t keep her waiting then.” Christian might not know much about dealing with women, but he knew better than to let his dinner get cold.
“Did I help you any?” Scott asked.
“You did.” It was true. “You should think about writing an advice column of your own.”
Scott nodded thoughtfully. “I just might, you know. Someday Aunt Lanni wants to start a newspaper in Hard Luck. She might give me a column ’cause we’re related.”
“If you want, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Scott beamed. “Great!”
Advice to the lovelorn from Scott O’Halloran, Hard Luck’s hometown expert.
Smiling for the first time since Mariah had announced she was leaving, Christian stood up. His hand was on the front doorknob when something Scott had said suddenly struck him.
Scott wanted to marry a girl like Chrissie.
A woman like Mariah. That was what Christian wanted in his life. A woman like Mariah.
MARIAH HADN’T DECIDED what she’d do or where she’d live once Libby Bozeman was trained. The thought of leaving Hard Luck made her infinitely sad. But she had no choice if she wanted to avoid Christian O’Halloran.