Midnight Sons Volume 3

  “He is.”

  “What are you doing out in this cold with just a jacket?”

  Lanni looked at her sister-in-law and burst into tears. Unable to speak, she wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed.

  “You’d better come with me,” Mariah said quietly. Leaning over, she opened the passenger door.

  Lanni climbed into the truck just in time to avoid Charles, who’d come running after her. She heard his frantic cry, but ignored him.

  “Lanni?” Mariah asked gently when she pulled up in front of the house she shared with Christian.

  “How about a cup of tea?” Lanni asked, wiping the tears from her face.

  “Tea?” Mariah glanced over her shoulder. “Sure. Come inside and you can tell me what’s made you so unhappy.”

  “Unhappy? Me?” Lanni cried. “I couldn’t be happier! Charles and I are going to have a baby.” Then she started to weep all over again.

  CHARLES FIGURED he’d give Lanni a half hour before he went after her. He’d seen her climb into Mariah’s truck. Right this moment, she was probably telling Mariah and Christian what a jerk he was, and she’d be right.

  A baby. Lanni pregnant. It still didn’t seem real.

  What Lanni had said about playing Russian roulette with birth control was true, but she’d never made a secret of the fact that she wanted a baby. Maybe he was being selfish, but Charles had wanted to keep Lanni to himself for a while longer.

  He rubbed a hand across his eyes and thought about what he’d done. Lanni was hurt and confused. Hey, so was he.

  Charles had never expected to fall in love. When he did, he fell for the granddaughter of the woman who’d spent a large part of her life working to destroy his family. He hadn’t known that at first, though. When he had learned the truth about her, Charles had turned his back and walked away.

  He’d soon learned that was a mistake. He loved her, and with his mother’s help and Lanni’s persistence, he was able to put aside his doubts. Lanni’s love was the greatest gift of his life.

  Once again, Charles thought in near-despair, he’d found a way to destroy what he wanted most. After an hour it was clear that Lanni wasn’t coming back. He’d have to swallow his pride and go after her. But before he made another colossal mistake, he decided to do what he always did when he needed advice. He visited Ben Hamilton at the Hard Luck Café.

  Ben was busy in the kitchen when Charles arrived.

  “Long time, no see,” Ben greeted him when Charles sat on a stool at the counter. It surprised him how busy the place was. In the past there’d been times Charles would stop in and be the only customer.

  Today Ben actually had a waitress there, and furthermore, he needed her.

  “What can I get you?”

  “How about a psychiatrist?”

  Ben laughed and automatically filled Charles’s mug with coffee. “What happened?”

  “Lanni’s pregnant.”

  Ben eyed him speculatively. “That’s great news, isn’t it?”

  Charles nodded without a lot of enthusiasm.

  “You don’t look too sure,” Ben said, leaning against the counter.

  “I don’t know that I’m ready for a family. Darn it, Ben, I love my wife and I wanted her to myself for a few more months.” He wasn’t going to be the type of father Sawyer was, Charles realized. His brother had wanted to get Abbey pregnant from the moment he’d slipped a ring on her finger.

  “Are you saying the baby’s due this week?” Ben asked. “I know you’re a real go-getter, but this kind of thing usually takes a few months, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—Oh, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, I didn’t throw my arms into the air and leap for joy the way Lanni expected, and now she’s spitting nails she’s so mad at me.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Ben asked.

  Charles stared into his coffee. “The only thing I can do. Throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Ben said thoughtfully, “that the longer you wait to apologize, the more difficult it becomes. After a while, the words tend to stick in your throat. Trust me, the sooner you do it, the better for both of you.”

  Charles agreed. He glanced at his watch and headed over to Christian’s house. He parked out front and sat with his hands resting on the steering wheel while he rehearsed what he intended to say.

  Ben was right. The sooner he apologized the better. With a certain reluctance, he climbed out of the truck and knocked on the door.

  Christian answered, looking at Charles as if he should be arrested. “I wondered how long it’d take you to get here.” His brother unlatched the screen door and held it open.

  Charles stepped inside. “Where’s Lanni?”

  “In the kitchen with Mariah. What did you say to her?” Christian demanded.

  Charles glared at him. “That’s between Lanni and me.”

  “Fine,” Christian muttered, “then you go take care of it. She hasn’t stopped crying since she got here.”

  Charles took a deep calming breath and made his way into the kitchen. Lanni sat at the table with her back to him; Mariah sat across from her. He saw a teapot and two cups on the blue checked tablecloth.

  “I’d like a word with my wife,” Charles said to his sister-in-law. “Alone.” It seemed Mariah was going to ignore him, but apparently she changed her mind, because she slipped silently out of the kitchen.

  “Lanni,” Charles whispered. She didn’t respond. He walked over to where Mariah had been sitting and stood behind the chair, hands in his pants pockets.

  Lanni’s tear-streaked face made him realize he loved her beyond life itself. He’d wanted everything to be perfect for her, for them. Yet he was the one responsible for her unhappiness. He felt a surge of remorse.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” he said. Now that the information was beginning to sink in, he found he rather liked the idea. A baby. His and Lanni’s.

  “I know you’re not happy about this and—”

  “I am happy,” he insisted, cutting her off. “It just took some getting used to. We’re going to have a baby,” he repeated. Yes. This was good news.

  Lanni gnawed on her lower lip. “You aren’t angry?”

  “Angry?” She’d thought he was angry? He moved around the table and knelt down in front of her. “Never that, honey. Surprised, shocked, but never angry. This is our baby, yours and mine. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. Can you forgive me?” The words came straight from his heart.

  Lanni nodded. “Yes! I’m so happy I could burst.”

  “I’m happy, too, because you are. The idea of being a father frightens me a little, I admit.” But then, it had taken him a long time to get comfortable with the idea of loving Lanni. He knew he was going to love this child beyond reason, the same way he did his wife.

  “I love you, Charles,” Lanni whispered, throwing her arms around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder. He didn’t deserve her love, but he’d always known that.

  Charles breathed in her fresh scent and buried his face in her neck. Everything was going to work out just fine. Next spring he’d be a father.

  He smiled.

  DUKE PUSHED the food around his plate with his fork, his appetite almost nonexistent. He’d been back in Hard Luck for more than two weeks, but it seemed more like two years.

  If he couldn’t fly soon, he’d be worthless.

  “More coffee?” The young waitress Ben had hired approached his table.

  “No, thanks.” Duke shoved his plate aside.

  “What’s the matter, don’t you like my spaghetti anymore?” Ben asked. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Before, Duke had always welcomed Ben’s company, but these days he preferred his own.

  “Guess I don’t have much of an appetite,” Duke muttered.

  “I hear you’ve bought some land off the O’Hallorans.”

  Duke nodded. “I plan to start building next spring.”

  Ben’s eyes sh
owed his approval. “A man should have a place of his own.”

  “It’s time I moved out of the bunkhouse,” Duke said without further comment. He’d meant to leave a couple of years ago, but there’d been no compelling reason. Besides, he got along well with the other pilots. Or used to. Right now he didn’t think anyone would regret his leaving, not after the last six weeks. He hadn’t been good company.

  “Seems like a mighty big house for just you. How many bedrooms?”

  “Four,” Duke answered. Bedrooms. He remembered Tracy’s comment about filling those rooms with children and the two of them building a life together. When she’d first mentioned marriage, his hackles had gone up and he’d thought she was crazy. Married? Him? No way.

  “Four bedrooms,” Ben echoed. “What’re you gonna do—open a boardinghouse?”

  “No,” Duke replied, annoyed. He wasn’t sure what madness had possessed him to want a four-bedroom house when all he needed was one bedroom, possibly two.

  Ben chuckled. “You got the look, pal.”

  “The look?” Duke asked.

  “Misery. I know all about that broken arm of yours, but it’s not physical pain I’m talking about.”

  “Ben, I appreciate—”

  “No, you don’t,” Ben interrupted. “You’re mad at me for saying anything, and frankly I don’t blame you. I’ve been watching you ever since you got back from Seattle.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Seattle,” Duke said tightly. That was the last thing he wanted to talk about—his time with Tracy. She haunted him, every minute of every hour, asleep or awake. It was even worse now than before he’d gone to see her.

  “No,” Ben agreed, “I don’t suppose you do want me to mention your visit to Seattle.”

  “Furthermore, I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “That’s what Sawyer said, remember? Charles, too, if you recall.”

  “Well, sure,” Duke said, “but they didn’t fall in love with successful big-city attorneys. It isn’t going to work between Tracy and me, and the sooner everyone accepts that, the better.”

  He knew he sounded angry—but he was. It might seem straightforward enough from the outside looking in, but Duke had seen Tracy in her element, and it was a lot more impressive than anything he could offer her in Hard Luck.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Of course I am,” Duke said. He shoved back his chair and stood. “Listen, Ben, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this time it won’t work. Besides, if you’re such an expert on romance, you should keep track of what’s happening in your own backyard.”

  Ben frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Duke picked up his tab. “Anyone with eyes in his head can see what’s going on with you and Mary McMurphy.”

  Ben’s jaw sagged open so far it nearly hit the countertop. “You’re out of your mind.”

  Duke chuckled. “If you say so.”

  “Me and Mary McMurphy?” Ben managed a laugh, but it sounded false. “I’m not in love with her.”

  “If you say so,” Duke repeated, walking toward the cashier and paying his bill.

  “I don’t want you spreading rumors, you hear me?” Ben warned. “The last thing I want is someone embarrassing Mary with that kind of talk.”

  “My lips are sealed, Ben. But I have to tell you, I don’t think this is much of a secret. The entire town’s talking about you two, and everyone’s happy for you.”

  “Mary McMurphy?” the cook scoffed loudly, causing several patrons to turn and stare at him. “There’s nothing between her and me!”

  At that moment Mary stepped out from the kitchen. Her gaze met Ben’s, and even Duke could read the fury and betrayal in her eyes. Then she whirled around and returned to the kitchen. Ben swallowed uncomfortably as he glanced longingly in her direction. “A woman like Mary McMurphy is better off without the likes of me,” he muttered.

  All love did, Duke decided as he walked out the door, was make people miserable. He wanted nothing more to do with it.

  Chapter

  10

  MARY TOLD HERSELF she was nothing but an old fool. Certainly she’d never intended to fall in love with Ben Hamilton. That old sea dog wouldn’t know love if it smacked him right between the eyes.

  Which it had.

  Ben had all but shouted his lack of feelings for her to the entire restaurant, humiliating her. Well, at least now she knew exactly where she stood with the man.

  Everything they’d shared these past weeks meant nothing. It had seemed to her that they’d come far, but apparently not. She slammed the oven door shut, angry with herself for losing control of her heart when she was old enough to know better.

  In the beginning Ben had resented her. He’d made it quite clear that he didn’t want her anywhere near his precious kitchen. Gradually his attitude had improved, but it had taken weeks to gain his trust and admiration.

  At first, aware of how he felt about her, Mary had tiptoed around his ego, being careful not to take matters into her own capable hands. She knew a thing or two, seeing that she’d been in the restaurant business for well over twenty years. But each and every step of the way, she’d gone to him, seeking his counsel and approval before making changes.

  After a while Ben had come to value her suggestions. Her idea of serving prime rib on Friday nights had been a huge success. He’d allowed her to test a few of her other ideas, too. Even though he didn’t feel the café had enough business to justify hiring two part-time waitresses, he’d agreed to give it a try. Business had increased dramatically, and he’d soon recognized the wisdom of adding staff.

  It wasn’t that Ben didn’t appreciate her. Mary knew otherwise. His voice was often gruff, but he had a kind and generous heart. It was when she realized this that she’d gradually lowered her guard. That, unfortunately, had been a mistake, because she’d gone and done something foolish. She’d fallen in love with Ben Hamilton.

  She’d been a widow for nearly fifteen years now. She was content with her life, but she would’ve welcomed a companion. A partner.

  Her children were grown and didn’t need her, so she’d hoped to relax. Maybe travel some. Fanciful dreams, she mused sadly. That was all they were. Dreams.

  “Mary.”

  She continued washing the last of the pots and pans. Forcing a smile to her lips, she turned to greet Ben as if nothing was amiss.

  “Maybe you and I should sit down and talk,” he said hoarsely.

  You didn’t spend this much time with a person and not know him, and Mary sensed Ben’s reluctance.

  “I can’t this evening,” she returned stiffly. “Perhaps another night.”

  His shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. I mean, that’s okay. Whenever you’ve got a free moment.”

  Mary resumed her task, scrubbing the pots with enough force to rub holes right through them. Her elbow made jerky movements as she expended her anger. And angry she was. Not at Ben. She knew he was uncomfortable with emotion, particularly if it related directly to him. No, she was angry at herself.

  Ben cleared his throat and addressed her back. “I did think,” he said, “that it was time we discussed giving you a raise.”

  “I haven’t been with you very long,” she said dismissively, not bothering to turn around.

  “I know that,” he snapped, then gentled his voice. “But you’ve made some good suggestions. Business is better than it’s ever been. Your prime-rib special on Friday nights was a lot more successful than my frequent-eater program.”

  She rolled her eyes. Frequent eaters! My heavens, what had the man been thinking?

  “I believe a ten-percent increase would be fitting.”

  Mary was well aware that the raise had been prompted by nothing more than good old-fashioned guilt. He was sorry for embarrassing her.

  “Thanks for the offer,” she told him firmly, her back still to him, “but no, thanks.”

  “You’re turning down a raise?” Ben sounded incredulous.

&nb
sp; “Yes.” Mary was sure he’d never heard of such a thing, and in fact, she’d never refused a raise before. But she did now with good reason.

  “Why in tarnation would anyone turn down a raise?” Ben demanded.

  Mary pulled the plug in the sink, and the water gurgled down the pipe. Peeling the rubber gloves from her hands, she turned to face him, but kept her gaze lowered.

  “Is there anything wrong with my money?” he asked in the same impatient tone he’d used earlier.

  “No, except when you’re using it as a substitute for an apology.”

  “What do I have to apologize for?” he asked, his voice rising. “You try to do something nice for someone, and what do you get?”

  “Now listen here, Ben Hamilton, it’s a free country, and I can choose what I will and won’t accept as a wage,” she said, squaring her shoulders and boldly meeting his look. His face was flushed, and she was sure that losing his temper couldn’t be good for his heart condition.

  Ben ripped the apron from his waist and flung it aside. “What do you want from me?”

  His question took her by surprise. “What makes you think I want anything?”

  “Because that’s how women are.”

  “Really, Ben,” she said dryly. “And since when did you become such an expert on women?”

  He took a deep breath, which he slowly released, his cheeks billowing out. “I suppose you’re going to hand in your notice now.”

  She’d considered it, but had quickly changed her mind. She’d come to enjoy life in Hard Luck, to love the town and its people. Weeknights were spent at the Caldwells’ lodge, and she’d formed friendships with several of the older women in town. “I see no reason to quit—unless you don’t want me around anymore.”

  “I do,” Ben admitted gruffly. “Want you around, that is.”

  The tension left Mary’s shoulders and she smiled softly. “Thank you for that.”

  Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’d miss you if you decided to move on,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I never thought I’d say that, but it’s the truth.”

  “I’d…miss working with you, too.”