The sound of the door closing propelled Bethany off the bed. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said, greeting her husband in the kitchen. She was barefoot, her eyelet cotton gown reaching nearly to the floor.
“Are the boys in bed?” he asked.
“Both of them,” she said. Jack, their youngest, was eleven. Their older son, Jeremy, attended the local high school. “Did you notice Chrissie tonight?” she asked.
“She was helping serve, remember?” Mitch reminded his wife absently. He moved into the living room, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked.
“What Chrissie was doing,” Bethany told him, “was avoiding Scott.” She knew her stepdaughter well enough to recognize that Chrissie was keeping herself occupied all evening in an effort to elude Scott—not that her plan had worked.
Mitch frowned and sank into his favorite chair in front of the television. “I thought she was over Scott. I assumed she was willing to forgive him and ready to move on.”
“I’m sure she has forgiven him, but...” Sitting on the arm of his chair, Bethany shrugged. “As for being over him, forget it.” Half the night she’d had to resist the urge to throw her arms around her stepdaughter and comfort her. How well she understood the doubts and uncertainties Chrissie felt; it was like seeing history repeat itself.
“I’d better have a talk with her,” Mitch said, still frowning.
“About what?” Bethany demanded, wondering if her husband knew something she didn’t. When it came to police matters, Mitch was closemouthed. As he should be. Bethany respected his discretion. But he sometimes kept private fears and concerns to himself, too. If he had information regarding Scott and Chrissie, she wanted to hear it.
Mitch’s gaze clouded with indecision. “I’m not keeping any secrets, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just—” He abruptly changed his mind about whatever he’d planned to say. “Actually, Chrissie may want to talk to me about Scott, and I was hoping you’d give me a few suggestions—unless, of course, you’d prefer to talk to her.”
“I’d gladly talk to Chrissie,” Bethany told him quietly, “if I knew what to say.”
They were both silent for a moment. “I think very highly of Scott for publicly apologizing to his family,” Mitch said. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It was a generous thing to do,” Bethany agreed. Scott’s admission of his faults had taken maturity and inner strength; so had his decision to seek his family’s forgiveness, especially in a roomful of people. Part of his speech, Bethany realized, had been directed at Chrissie.
Her stepdaughter was a warmhearted woman who’d already forgiven Scott—of that much Bethany was sure. But apparently forgiveness didn’t extend to resuming their relationship.
Bethany had seen Chrissie leave the party soon after Scott’s speech, unable to hide her misery; Bethany had desperately wanted to follow her out. She sensed that Chrissie loved Scott, yet—despite her feelings—refused to take another risk on the man who’d hurt her twice.
“There’s something I never told you.” Her husband’s eyes sparked with hidden laughter. “Just before our wedding, Scott came to talk to me.”
“Scott did? He was what—twelve?”
“I think so. And he sounded sincere as can be.”
Bethany could only imagine what he’d had to say.
Mitch rubbed the side of his jaw. “Scott felt I needed to know you were in love with me long before I ever noticed.”
Bethany, who’d moved to sit across from her husband, knees tucked beneath her chin, lifted her head. “He didn’t!”
Mitch raised his hand. “I swear it’s true. Scott said he recognized the look. According to him, Abbey looked at Sawyer the same way you looked at me. He asked me if love made people act dumb because that was how his mother and Sawyer behaved. He wondered if that would happen to us.”
Pressing her forehead against her knees, Bethany couldn’t suppress a laugh.
“Apparently he didn’t approve of what his sister and Chrissie had done to get us together, either.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Then he recommended I marry you in spite of Chrissie and Susan’s matchmaking, and congratulated me on seeing through their ploys.” Her husband’s smile was delighted as he reminisced. “I could talk to Scott,” he finally suggested. “Just like he spoke to me.”
Bethany considered that, but instinctively knew Chrissie would resent her family’s intrusion. “You’ve already had a number of talks with Scott. Over the years, I mean.”
Mitch’s smile disappeared and he nodded. “He was an angry teenager, but nothing I said helped him.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Mitch leaned forward. “I’ve seen other kids like Scott. He was never vicious or even all that bad. First, there was the pain of losing his dog and then...well, this is what I started to tell you. He contacted his father when he was fifteen. He never told Abbey and Sawyer.”
“But Sawyer’s his father.”
“By adoption, true, but Scott had things to resolve with his birth father—and it didn’t really happen. The bastard out-and-out rejected him. His own kid!”
“You never told me this before.”
Mitch’s eyes avoided hers. “I know. He asked me to keep it confidential. But I tried to help him....”
“I think you did help him, although Chrissie didn’t understand that at the time.”
Mitch shook his head. “Scott hurt her the same way he hurt himself. Now he’s back and she doesn’t trust him, and really, can you blame her?”
“No...” Still, Bethany wished a reconciliation was possible.
“Maybe you should talk to Chrissie.” Mitch glanced hopefully in her direction. “Maybe that would be the best approach, after all.”
“And say what?” Bethany asked.
Her husband hesitated. “I don’t know. Something inspiring. Hey—you could always ask Ben for advice. Seems to me he has a knack for knowing the right thing to say.”
In theory Mitch’s idea sounded good, but this was a delicate situation, one that required sensitive handling. Chrissie might take offense at her family’s meddling in her affairs. In fact, Bethany could almost guarantee it. Besides, knowing Ben, his solution would probably be to lock Chrissie and Scott in a room together and refuse to release them until they’d sorted everything out.
“You think we should ask for Ben’s opinion?” Mitch murmured.
Bethany gave a pensive shrug and laughed softly at the idea of leaving her stepdaughter’s love life in the hands of crusty, outspoken Ben—the man who also happened to be Bethany’s birth father and the reason she’d moved to Hard Luck in the first place. “I think we should let Chrissie make her own decisions. Although, I suppose, if the right opportunity presents itself...”
Mitch took a moment to mull that over. Then he nodded. “You’re right. And you never know—one of them might actually ask for our advice. In which case, we’ll be happy to give it. Come on,” he said, stretching his arm toward her. “It’s past my bedtime.”
* * *
Chrissie arose early Saturday morning and dressed warmly for her bimonthly flight into Fairbanks. As she ate some toast, she filled her backpack for the weekend, then walked to the Midnight Sons landing strip. Duke Porter, her law partner’s husband, generally flew her into town. They’d gotten to be good friends over the past few months, since she’d started the mentoring program arranged through a Fairbanks social-service agency. Joelle Harmon was a twelve-year-old foster child at risk. Abandoned by her mother, father unknown, Joelle had been in six foster homes in four months, until she was accepted into the experimental group home. Chrissie had spent months building a relationship with the girl.
Her breath formed small clouds as she hurried toward the Midnight Sons office to check in for her regul
arly scheduled flight. It would turn bitterly cold soon enough. Within the month, snow would fall and winter would set in with such ferocity that just the thought of it sent shivers down her spine. Despite that, Chrissie loved Alaska; she’d lived here almost her entire life and couldn’t imagine settling anywhere else.
Opening the door, she stepped into the office. “Duke, I—” She stopped as soon as she realized it wasn’t Duke standing there, but Scott O’Halloran.
“Morning,” he greeted her cheerfully. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and didn’t bother to look up.
Her smile 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. “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 he made her feel.
Climbing into the plane, she was relieved when Scott immediately placed a pair of headphones over his ears. Making polite conversation would’ve 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’ve 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 have 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 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, trying not to remember.
As they approached 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 let his mood intimidate her, Chrissie opened her own door and climbed down the wing, shaking her head at Scott’s offer of assistance. Once she was firmly on the ground, she slipped her backpack over her shoulders and straightened. “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 seeing 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.
This foster-care program, being tested by the state, placed school-age children 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 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, thanks to the support of the group home and the trust Chrissie had built, Joelle grew more confident. Chrissie hardly recognized 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 here,” 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 changed to a smile as Joelle ran 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; every accomplishment took her further from her disadvantaged past and toward a hopeful future.
“Oh, Joelle, I’m so proud of you.” Those simple words, spoken with heartfelt sincerity, brought a huge smile to 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. After two days with Joelle, 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 looked after the place.
Scott was waiting for her. “We may have trouble with the weather,” he said by way of greeting.
“What kind of trouble?”
“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 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 took off his headphones. “Lake Abbey,” he said brusquely. “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.
Five
Scott maneuvered the plane as close to shore as possible, all the while feeling Chrissie’s glare. The woman was in a rage, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he’d created this storm, although to tell the truth, he wasn’t really complaining. It gave him the opportunity to talk to Chrissie without her dashing off.
“You did this on purpose,” she accused him. “Why don’t you just admit it?”
“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 convenient that sounded; 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 in a scathing voice.
“Well, yes...” No wonder she doubted him, but the truth was, 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 expected it. “Fine. I’m going to the cabin,” he told her, opening the aircraft door. A bone-chilling blast of Arctic wind shook him, and he gasped at the shock of it.