Midnight Sons Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

“Tracy Santiago?”

  Mariah nodded.

  Tracy was an attorney hired by the Douglas family soon after Mariah’s arrival. Tracy had flown up to inspect the living conditions and review Mariah’s contract with Midnight Sons. Through all of this, apparently, Mariah and Tracy had struck up a friendship.

  With any luck Tracy would convince Mariah to forget about Alaska and return to Seattle where she belonged. One thing was certain: Christian wanted her gone.

  “I’ll be leaving on Saturday,” she said, again providing him with more information than he wanted or required.

  “Fine.”

  “And I’ll be back the following Saturday.”

  “Fine.”

  She backed away from him. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Will you be flying out of Fairbanks?”

  “Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. “Duke’s offered to take me into the city.”

  Duke. Christian should’ve known he’d relish a chance to spend time alone with Mariah. Duke was welcome to her, although Christian would insist they keep their romance out of the office and out of his sight. The problems with having one of his pilots dating the secretary were obvious—weren’t they? Well, maybe he couldn’t articulate all of those problems this very minute, but he knew instinctively that it wasn’t a good idea. For reasons he couldn’t entirely explain, Christian did not want Duke flying Mariah into Fairbanks.

  “Duke’s going to be busy next Saturday,” Christian announced suddenly. He wasn’t sure what he’d assign the pilot, but he’d come up with something.

  “But I checked the schedule, and there wasn’t anything down for Duke. He’s already said he’d do it, and—”

  “Then I suggest you check the schedule again,” he snapped, “and have one of the other pilots fly you in.”

  “All right.” She agreed readily enough, but Christian could see she wasn’t pleased.

  He’d no sooner resumed his paperwork than Mariah approached him a second time.

  “Yes?” he said, realizing he sounded annoyed but unable to help it. Then he reminded himself—in a few days he’d be free of her for an entire week. The thought cheered him considerably.

  “I’ve gone over the list, and there’s only one other pilot available this Saturday but—”

  “Fine.” Christian didn’t care who flew her into Fairbanks, as long as it wasn’t Duke.

  “But—”

  He clenched his jaw, growing impatient. “Mariah, I have more important things to do than discuss your travel arrangements. Someone other than Duke will be available to fly you out in plenty of time to catch your flight to Anchorage, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Yes, I know,” she returned, just as impatient. “That someone is you.”

  THE MAN WAS IMPOSSIBLE, Mariah decided as she left the Midnight Sons office that afternoon. Nothing she did pleased him. What she should’ve done was look Christian O’Halloran right in the eye and tell him he could take this job and shove it.

  She would’ve, too, if she wasn’t so much in love with him.

  Mariah didn’t know when it had happened, possibly the first time they’d met. He’d been in Seattle interviewing applicants for a variety of positions in Hard Luck. She’d been excited about applying for the job, although as claims adjuster for a large insurance company, she had limited office experience.

  Her meeting with Christian had been short and to the point. He’d asked her a list of questions, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. She’d gone home discouraged, assuming he’d already made his decision and wouldn’t be giving her the job.

  When she learned she had gotten the job and told her friends, no one seemed to understand her reasons for wanting to move to a remote town north of the Arctic Circle. If she was doing it to escape her family, they told her, there were any number of places that would’ve been more suitable.

  Her friends’ doubts were nothing compared to her family’s reaction. When she’d informed her parents that she planned to move to Hard Luck, they’d feared the worst.

  She couldn’t make them understand that Alaska appealed to her sense of adventure, her need to experience a different life. She’d suspected she would grow to love this land, and she’d been right.

  Her friends had teased her unmercifully. She still grinned whenever she remembered a comment of her friend Rochelle’s: “I hear your odds of finding a man in Alaska are good—but the goods are odd.”

  Mariah hadn’t come here looking for a husband. No one seemed to believe that. She’d come because she wanted a life of her own, a life away from her family. She wanted to make her own decisions and her own mistakes. For the first time, she didn’t have her mother or one of her aunts hovering over her constantly, ready to leap into the middle of her life and arrange everything.

  Two important occurrences had shaped her year in Hard Luck. First and foremost, she’d fallen in love. Head over heels. Hook, line and sinker. The whole nine yards.

  The problem was that the object of her affections was Christian O’Halloran and he didn’t even seem to like her. He thought she was a major klutz, and in the past year she’d done everything possible to prove him right. Not intentionally of course. The man flustered her. Whenever they were in close proximity, she said or did something stupid. She couldn’t help it. And now he seemed to think she was infatuated with Duke. The man had to be blind.

  The second occurrence had been set in motion by her family. Mariah should’ve realized they’d have a difficult time accepting her decision to move away. The ink had barely dried on her contract with Midnight Sons when her parents had hired an attorney.

  Tracy Santiago had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At first Mariah was afraid the woman would jeopardize her position with Midnight Sons, but her fears had been groundless.

  Shortly after Mariah’s arrival in Hard Luck, Tracy flew up to meet her, and while she was there she interviewed several of the other women. In the year since then, Mariah and Tracy had become good friends.

  They’d kept in touch, with letters and phone calls and the occasional brief visit. In that time, there’d been a number of unexpected events. Marriages. A death. A new enterprise—the revived Hard Luck Lodge. And soon the community would see a spurt in population growth. Abbey O’Halloran was pregnant, as was Karen Caldwell. Both were due in midwinter.

  Tracy had enjoyed receiving Mariah’s letters, updating her on life and love in Hard Luck. Romance abounded. The two older O’Halloran brothers had fallen for women in no time flat. They were both married now. Pete Livengood, who operated the general store, had married Dotty Harlow, the health clinic nurse. Then Mitch Harris, the public safety officer, and Bethany Ross, the new schoolteacher, had fallen in love. Some women had come to Hard Luck and stayed; others had quickly moved on. Those who did stay became so integrated in the community it was sometimes difficult to remember who was new to this rugged, beautiful place and who wasn’t.

  Mariah liked writing long, detailed letters about the happenings in Hard Luck as much as Tracy liked reading them. She appreciated Tracy’s friendship and support more than ever.

  Mariah’s family had been convinced she wouldn’t last six months. But her parents had underestimated her tenacity; Tracy hadn’t.

  Mariah continued walking toward her small cabin. As she strolled past Hard Luck Lodge, Karen Caldwell stepped out onto the porch. Karen was four months pregnant, and radiantly happy.

  “Mariah,” she called. “I hear you’re going on vacation. That’s great. Where are you headed?”

  This was one thing about living in a small community that still astonished Mariah. There were few secrets, although people did seem to respect each other’s privacy. It wasn’t as though they were eager to spread gossip; it was more a matter of genuine interest and concern. News was passed along in a friendly sort of way, often at Ben Hamilton’s place. Almost everyone in town stopped in at the Hard Luck Café at least once during the week, and some more often.

  Mar
iah joined her friend on the front porch of the renovated lodge, which had once belonged to the O’Hallorans and was now owned by Karen’s husband, Matt.

  “Who told you about my vacation?” she asked, curious to learn how the news had made the rounds.

  “Matt. He had coffee with Ben after John Henderson was in this morning.”

  That explained it. John Henderson was Duke Porter’s best friend. Duke had obviously mentioned he was flying her into Fairbanks, then John had told Ben and Ben had told Matt.

  “I’m meeting Tracy Santiago in Anchorage,” Mariah said. “I’ve been in Alaska over a year now, and I thought it was time I played tourist.”

  “Have a great trip,” Karen said. “But don’t let the bright lights of the big city dazzle you.”

  “Not to worry. This is my home.” And it was. Mariah had no desire to stay in Anchorage—or return to Seattle. Her commitment had been for one year, but she fully expected to settle in Hard Luck permanently. The cabin, for whatever it was worth, and the twenty acres of land promised her in the contract had been deeded to her. Mariah had achieved what she wanted. Nothing held her in Hard Luck now except her love of the community and those in it.

  Especially Christian.

  CHRISTIAN WALKED into the Hard Luck Café and slid onto a stool at the counter. Ben Hamilton was busy writing the dinner special on the blackboard. Moose pot roast in cranberry sauce with mashed potatoes and gravy. Christian studied the board intently.

  “A little early to be eating, isn’t it?” Ben asked.

  “Of course it is.” It was only four-thirty, and he generally didn’t have dinner until six or later.

  “You just ate lunch three hours ago,” Ben reminded him.

  Christian knew exactly when he’d had lunch. He hadn’t come into the café for food. He wanted to complain. Sawyer had barely left, and already Christian felt at the end of his rope. Between dealing with Mariah and the increased workload, he’d completely lost his composure. He sure hoped Sawyer didn’t stay in Fairbanks longer than a couple of days.

  “You got something on your mind?” Ben asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what I said to young Matt not so long ago. If you want advice, it doesn’t come free. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you come in here to eat or to talk?” Ben asked curtly.

  Christian had noticed a difference in Ben’s temperament ever since he’d started his frequent-eater program. Apparently he’d decided that from now on, nothing was free. Not even speech. Christian was almost surprised Ben wasn’t charging him for sitting on the stool.

  “How about some coffee?” Christian muttered.

  Ben’s mouth formed a slow grin. “Coming up.”

  Christian righted the mug and Ben promptly filled it. Staring at it reminded him that Mariah had made coffee for him nearly every morning for a year. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d told her he liked his coffee black. Some days she added sugar, some days cream, some days both. But he could count on one hand the days she’d gotten it right.

  “So what’s bugging you?” Ben asked.

  Christian shook his head. Now that he was here, he didn’t feel inclined to share his woes. More than likely, Ben would side with Mariah the way his brothers had.

  “If you’ve got a problem, spit it out,” Ben said.

  “You going to charge me?” Christian asked jokingly.

  “Nah, I’m just trying to sell a little coffee.”

  Ben probably sold more coffee than some of those all-night diners in Anchorage, but Christian didn’t say so.

  “If you’ve got something on your mind,” Ben pressed, “best thing to do is get it out.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Ben’s laugh was skeptical. “My guess is it involves Mariah.”

  Christian glared at the older man. “What makes you say that?”

  The cook lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Whenever I see you frown, it usually has to do with her. After all, you’ve been complaining about Mariah for over a year.”

  “Not that it does me any good,” Christian said with ill grace. “According to everyone else, the woman walks on water. Is there something wrong with me?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “She’s a sweetheart, Chris.”

  “Not to me, she isn’t.” She might be as wonderful as everyone said, but Christian doubted it. “We can’t seem to get along,” he mumbled.

  “Have you ever stopped to consider why?”

  “I have, as a matter of fact,” Christian said. “I read an article in one of those airline magazines—oh, it must’ve been three or four years ago. It was about a man who walked from one end of the continental United States to the other. Took him months. People from all over asked him what he’d found the hardest.”

  Ben frowned. “Are we still talking about Mariah?”

  “Yes,” Christian insisted. “The writer who was doing the interview suggested the hardest part must’ve been the heat of the desert or the cold of the mountains.”

  “Was it?” Ben asked, obviously curious now. He folded his arms and waited for Christian to respond.

  “Nope.”

  “You sure we’re still talking about Mariah?”

  Christian ignored the question. “After deep thought, the man gave his answer. The most difficult thing about the long walk had been the sand in his shoes.”

  “The sand in his shoes?”

  “Yup. And that’s what’s wrong between Mariah and me.”

  Ben’s face broke into a network of lines as he frowned again, and Christian could tell he assumed Mariah had been pouring sand in his shoes. “It’s the little things about her that drive me nuts,” he explained. “The fact that she ruins my coffee every morning. The way she loses things and just…irritates me.” Christian paused, then said grudgingly, “I’m sure she’s a perfectly capable secretary—or would be for someone else. But she hasn’t worked out for me.”

  “Sawyer doesn’t seem to have a problem with her.” Christian had heard this argument from Ben before; he wasn’t surprised to be hearing it now.

  The door of the café opened just then, and he glanced over his shoulder and saw Duke. The other man’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Christian.

  “What’s this all about?” Duke demanded, waving the note Christian had slipped into his mailbox.

  “I’ll be flying Mariah into Fairbanks on Saturday,” Christian told him calmly. He didn’t expect the other man to argue, since he was the boss.

  “I offered to do it,” Duke said.

  “I know, but there are other, uh, more important things I need you for.”

  “You’re sending me out on a wild-goose chase and you know it. I could make the flight into Barrow any time next week, and all of a sudden you decide I have to do it Saturday.”

  Christian wasn’t proud of his little subterfuge, but his justification was that he didn’t want Duke and Mariah furthering their romance on company time. What they did on their own time was entirely up to them, he told himself righteously. But when it came to Midnight Sons…that was another matter.

  “You seem to think I’m interested in her,” Duke said angrily.

  Christian’s hands tightened around the coffee mug. He didn’t want to get into this.

  “Are you?” Ben wanted to know, his eyes eager.

  “No,” Duke growled. “I’ve got a girlfriend in Fairbanks I was planning to see.”

  “You’ve got a girlfriend in Fairbanks?” Ben repeated. “Since when?”

  “Since now.”

  Christian wasn’t sure he should believe him. “What about the other day when I saw you and Mariah kissing?”

  Ben’s eyes widened. “You saw Duke and Mariah kissing?”

  “Sure did.” Whenever Christian thought about walking into the office and finding them in each other’s arms, he felt a fresh wave of fury. “Right in the middle o
f the day, too.”

  Duke knotted his hands into fists. “I wasn’t kissing Mariah.”

  Christian wasn’t going to sit there and let one of his pilots lie to him. “I saw you with my own eyes!”

  Duke shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. “Since it’s so important to you, I’ll say it again. I wasn’t kissing Mariah.”

  Christian glared at the man. This was a bold-faced lie; he knew what he’d seen.

  Duke lowered his gaze and muttered, “She was kissing me.”

  Chapter

  2

  August 1996

  ON SATURDAY Mariah was at the airfield well before the allotted time of departure, eager to see Tracy again and make their plans for the week. They’d already decided to take a glacier tour and visit some of the other sights in and around Anchorage.

  Fierce, dark clouds puckered the sky, filling the morning with shadows and gloom. Not a promising start to her vacation.

  “You ready?” Christian marched past her toward the two-seater Luscombe. It was the smallest plane in the Midnight Sons fleet and used the least often.

  Mariah picked up her suitcase and hurried after him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this,” she said, holding on to the case with both hands. She didn’t understand why Christian had insisted on doing this himself, especially when it was so obvious that he considered it an imposition.

  Because of the heavy suitcase, she couldn’t keep pace with him. Eventually he seemed to realize this. He glanced at her over his shoulder, and then, without a word, turned back and took the suitcase from her hands.

  “What did you pack in here, anyway? Rocks?”

  She didn’t bother to answer.

  When they reached the plane, Christian helped her inside. He stowed her bag, then joined her in the cockpit. She was surprised by how small and intimate the space was; their shoulders touched as Christian worked the switches and revved the engine.

  Mariah snapped her seat belt in place and gazed anxiously at the threatening sky. She wondered if she should tell Christian she wasn’t all that keen on flying. She found small planes especially difficult. Give her a Boeing 767 any day of the week over a tiny, little Luscombe.