Matt shrugged, and Karen rolled her eyes. In her opinion, most men were hopeless when it came to romance; Matt was no exception. And Scott—well, as a kid he’d had delusions of romantic expertise.
“Don’t you remember what Scott told us just before Clay was born?” she asked her husband.
Matt chuckled. “That was a lot of years ago.”
Karen’s memory was good, and this particular incident had stayed with her. She smiled, recalling the day the young boy had stood resolutely before her. “He said he was responsible for bringing the two of us back together. In fact, he felt we owed our reconciliation to him.”
Matt burst out laughing. “Scott’s the one who said I should take you camping.”
“In order to wine and dine me, right?” Karen muttered. Scott’s idea of creating a romantic mood was that Matt should drag her and all the necessary and assorted gear to his favorite fishing place. Apparently Scott believed that sleeping on the ground, battling off mosquito attacks, plus catching, cleaning and cooking all their meals would rekindle their love. All this when Karen was several months pregnant with Clay. What a disaster that had been.
For one thing, fishing had never been her forte, and Matt had been furious when she’d nearly lost his favorite rod and pole. Then she’d fallen in the river and gotten drenched from head to toe. Matt had managed to catch fish after fish, and all she’d caught was a miserable cold, as if pregnancy hadn’t made her uncomfortable enough. By the time she returned to Hard Luck, it was a miracle they were even speaking to each other.
“Scott used to see himself as quite the matchmaker, didn’t he?”
They exchanged smiles across the table, smiles that quickly turned into laughter as the memories continued to surface.
“You know what I think?” Karen said, reaching for her coffee. She held the mug in front of her lips as she mulled over her idea. “Turnabout is fair play.”
Matt stared at her. “Oh, I don’t know about that.... Anyway, this is none of our business. They—”
Karen went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “We could arrange for Scott to take Chrissie someplace he once considered wildly romantic...like, I don’t know, the garbage dump? Didn’t he suggest we go out there and watch the bears?”
Matt chuckled. “Scott will think that’s fun, but I’m not so sure about Chrissie.”
“True,” Karen agreed. “Hmm. All we need to do is figure how to get the two of them alone. Given a little time, I bet they’d work everything out.”
“At the garbage dump?”
Karen rolled her eyes again. “Someplace else. You come up with a spot. You’re the creative one in the family.”
“Karen, be sensible. First of all, you don’t have any real evidence that Chrissie still feels the same way about Scott.”
“She does,” Karen said. “I’m positive.”
“Okay, so they went together for a while, but that was ages ago.”
“Chrissie’s loved Scott from the time she was a kid.”
Matt seemed to require a moment to think about that. “All right, Chrissie loves Scott. But how will Mitch feel about all this? I didn’t get the impression he’s too thrilled to have Scott back in town.”
Her husband had a point. Mitch Harris was Chrissie’s father and represented the law in Hard Luck. Scott wasn’t a bad kid, but he and Mitch had clashed a number of times when Scott was in his teens. Not that the boy’s misdemeanors were anything new in Hard Luck; other teens were guilty of similar behavior. The difference was Chrissie’s relationship with him. Father and daughter had argued over Scott more than once. Mitch had refused to make allowances for his daughter’s boyfriend, regardless of her desperate pleas. Karen knew Mitch had breathed a sigh of relief when Scott left Hard Luck, despite Chrissie’s broken heart.
“Mitch never disliked Scott,” Matt said. “If anything, he was doing him a favor by making him accountable for his actions.”
“I know, but...”
Studying her, Matt set his mug aside. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never known you to meddle in anyone’s love life before. Why now?”
Karen sighed and realized her husband was right; this wasn’t her usual style. Still, what had happened between Scott and Chrissie bothered her for some reason, bothered her a lot, and she felt a mother’s urge to fix things. Maybe she was being fanciful, but Karen saw in Chrissie the same kind of pain she herself had once felt.
“If Scott and Chrissie are meant to be together,” Matt said, relaxing in his chair, “then it’ll happen without any interference from us.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she murmured.
“Karen!”
“I can’t help myself,” she protested. “I’ve seen the look on Chrissie’s face when anyone mentions Scott’s name. And the same is true of Scott. I know what it’s like to love someone so much that the hurt only seems to get worse. When we got divorced, it just about killed me.”
“Me, too,” Matt said quietly, his gaze sobering.
“We were both stubborn and afraid and in pain.” Those weren’t times Karen ever wanted to relive. Pregnant and alone in California, afraid to tell Matt about the baby, afraid not to.
“And both of us in love.”
“Not that it helped us communicate any better.” They’d been defensive and bitter. In those days it’d been impossible to talk without their discussions erupting into arguments.
Matt reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “The part about me loving you hasn’t changed. All these years together proves it.”
On rare occasions, her husband could actually be romantic. And it was more meaningful because Karen knew it was genuine and heart-deep, never a mere gesture.
“So you want to help Scott get back together with Chrissie?” he asked, sounding resigned.
“If we can,” she said. “But we can’t tell anyone.” Whatever they did would have to be on the sly. Maybe a private conversation between Matt and Scott? Or a little confidential “girls’ talk”? They’d have to figure out the best approach.
“It’ll be our secret,” Matt agreed.
They emptied their leftover coffee in the sink and then, with a quick kiss, went about their busy days.
* * *
Chrissie arrived at Scott’s “surprise party” early Friday evening. His mother opened the door, and Chrissie instantly lowered her gaze, feeling dreadful that she’d been the one to spoil the surprise. Immediately following her second run-in with Scott, Chrissie had called Abbey and confessed her faux pas. As always, Abbey had been gracious and forgiven her mistake.
“Chrissie, would you stop?” Abbey said now, leading her into the large family home. “A surprise party was a ridiculous idea, anyway. I’m glad Scott knows, because it took away the pressure. Come inside and make yourself comfortable.”
Chrissie didn’t think that was possible. If not for Susan, she’d have found a convenient excuse to miss this event. Susan, however, wouldn’t have let her live it down.
Neither would Scott.
She’d say one thing about Scott O’Halloran—he was determined. That morning, when she got to work, she’d found a lovely bouquet of roses. Not just any roses, but red ones—a dozen perfectly formed buds. The card had read simply Scott.
Chrissie suspected he’d purchased them in Fairbanks the day before. Not that she was about to let a few beautiful roses sway her decision—although they must have cost a fortune.
It would take more than flowers. A lot more! As soon as the thought went through her mind, Chrissie tensed. No. She refused to even consider any kind of reconciliation. She refused to give Scott the power—or the opportunity—to hurt her again. He wasn’t going to find himself back in her good graces. No way! She’d be civil, but that was it. He was part of her past, not her future.
With a quick
detour to exchange hugs with Christian and Mariah O’Halloran, Chrissie headed straight for Susan, who was in the kitchen fussing with a variety of hors d’oeuvres. She slid them, hot from the oven, onto large ceramic platters. “Chrissie!” she cried when she saw her. “I knew you’d come.”
Grumbling, Chrissie reached for a green olive and munched on that, rather than argue. There was no point in explaining that she was here only under protest.
“Have you seen Scott?” Susan asked.
“No.” As much as possible, Chrissie planned to spend the night avoiding him—which was exactly what he’d accused her of. Too bad, she told herself firmly. She had no choice. Anyway, his opinion of her behavior was irrelevant.
“He is the guest of honor, you know.”
Chrissie sent her friend a dirty look and Susan laughed good-naturedly. Susan was pregnant and although the apron barely fit around her extended belly, she looked beautiful and healthy—and very happy. Ron was in the family room, chatting with friends. Chrissie caught a glimpse of him as he glanced at his wife. A pang of envy shot through her at the love, the adoration, she saw in his eyes.
“Let me take those mushrooms out for you,” Chrissie said, and Susan handed her the oven mitts. Keeping busy was the key, she decided. Standing around making idle chatter, wondering where Scott was—and how to stay out of his vicinity—would quickly drive her insane. She had to ignore the fact that he was somewhere in this crowded room...and probably watching her.
Picking up the large platter required two hands. A moment later, she was walking into the family room, balancing it carefully, when without warning Scott appeared directly in front of her.
Chrissie couldn’t think of a thing to say. Not a single thing. She stood there, doing an excellent imitation of an ice sculpture—cold and unmoving.
“Did you like the roses?” he asked.
“They were very nice.” She kept her voice expressionless.
“Thoughtful, too, don’t you agree?” He turned toward his sister and winked.
Obviously the flowers had been Susan’s idea. Chrissie should’ve known her friend had put him up to this.
She purposely hardened her heart and stared at him, her composure intact. “I’m afraid you wasted your money.” Then she sidestepped him and marched into the other room, her tray of mushrooms aloft.
This wasn’t the first time Scott had sought her out at a party; the last occasion had been after her college graduation. He’d pulled her aside and told her a batch of lies about how much he’d missed her and wanted her back in his life. She’d been so crazy in love with him she’d believed every word. The memory chilled her blood. She’d been gullible and naive, but she wasn’t anymore.
The O’Halloran home was crowded, and Chrissie wove her way in and out, smiling, chatting, offering hors d’oeuvres to the guests while Abbey welcomed late arrivals. These included Chrissie’s dad, Mitch Harris, and her stepmother, Bethany. She paused, still holding her tray, and kissed both of them in greeting. She and Bethany chatted for a few minutes as Mitch moved toward Sawyer, then Chrissie resumed her duties. It might’ve been her imagination, but she sensed that everyone was watching her. She had the definite suspicion that all the interest she was generating had nothing to do with crab-stuffed mushroom caps.
She was about to return to the kitchen when Scott sneaked up behind her. “We were going to have a talk, remember?”
“No, I don’t remember! I didn’t agree to that,” she informed him stiffly. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to discuss.”
“I want to clear the air,” Scott persisted.
“The air’s as clear as it’s going to get.” She edged away.
Scott followed. “Not from where I’m standing.”
He was making this awfully hard. Chrissie could feel herself weakening; she couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Sawyer called as he stepped into the center of the room. He held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a flute glass in the other. Abbey, Mariah and several other people appeared with champagne bottles and trays of glasses, pouring drinks for all the guests.
“We’ll continue this discussion later,” Scott said in a low voice.
“I told you before—there’s nothing to discuss,” Chrissie insisted, her voice carrying farther than she would’ve liked. A number of people turned to look in their direction.
“Our son is home to stay,” Abbey said, tears of happiness brightening her eyes.
Sawyer slipped his arm around Abbey’s waist. “And he’s now a full partner in Midnight Sons.” He raised his champagne glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To Scott. Welcome home, son.”
“Hear, hear!” Matt Caldwell yelled, and his words echoed around the room as glasses were lifted in Scott’s honor.
“Speech, speech,” Ryan, Scott’s half brother, shouted.
Scott groaned, but his objections were quickly overruled when his family and friends took up the cry. He moved closer to his parents and grabbed Ryan by the shoulders, squeezing hard. “Thanks a lot, little brother,” he muttered.
Everyone laughed. Scott looked a bit uncomfortable and obviously needed a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’d like to thank everyone for this wonderful surprise party,” he began.
The entire room erupted into laughter, and several people grinned at Chrissie. If it hadn’t been in poor taste, she would have walked out right then and there. Scott had knowingly set out to embarrass her. She fumed and said nothing, refusing to acknowledge his statement.
“If I’ve learned anything from the last few years, it’s that we all make mistakes, say and do things we later regret. I’ve certainly committed my share of those, and will probably be guilty of more during the course of my life.”
“As will we all,” Mitch Harris inserted. Bethany stood beside him, smiling; she sought out her stepdaughter, who tried to look away.
From across the room her father’s eyes connected with Chrissie’s, too, as though to remind her that he’d long ago forgiven Scott—and so should she. Chrissie broke eye contact.
“As most of you know,” Scott continued, “I had something of a...rebellious youth.”
Mitch Harris saluted the comment with a raised champagne glass, and a few guests chuckled.
“I said and did things that caused grief for those I love. I know I’ve hurt my family, but despite everything, they never lost faith in me.”
“Not once,” Sawyer said in agreement.
“My family and friends have put up with a lot,” Scott added, and glanced toward Chrissie. Almost immediately he turned back to his parents. “It’s good to be home, Mom and Dad.”
A chorus of “Welcome Home” followed from everyone in the room, and again, the family and friends of Scott O’Halloran toasted his return.
There was a surge of chatter then, and Chrissie went to the kitchen to assemble another platter of hors d’oeuvres. Susan came in shortly afterward and stared at Chrissie, obviously waiting for her to say something.
“What?” she snapped, glaring at her friend.
“Scott was talking to you just now.”
“I know. He was talking to you, too. He was talking to everybody.”
“Doesn’t that mean anything? What he said about past mistakes and regrets and all?”
Chrissie was saved from having to answer when Abbey walked in. Grateful for the escape, Chrissie edged her way out of the kitchen. Her relief was short-lived, however. No sooner had she entered the family room than Scott joined her.
“We were having a discussion...”
“Yes,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “As I recall, it was about air quality.”
Scott grinned, which made his classic features even more handsome and appealing. Chrissie doubted hers was the only heart he
’d broken since leaving Hard Luck.
His eyes grew solemn. “I meant what I said. I made a lot of mistakes, and I want you to know I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.”
Chrissie dropped her own eyes, rather than let him see how deeply his words affected her. She’d never expected Scott to apologize, and it took her a while to respond. “Apology accepted,” she whispered.
“Can you really forgive me?” He clasped her shoulders and compelled her to look at him.
Chrissie knew what he was asking, but she wasn’t sure she could say what he wanted her to. “I have forgiven you. I put everything behind me years ago, Scott.” That was true—and yet it wasn’t. She’d made the conscious decision to let his past actions go, but she couldn’t excuse or forget them.
He expelled an enormous sigh as if he’d been waiting a long time to hear that. For an uncomfortable moment he gazed into her face. Then he said, “I’d like to see you again.”
“See me?”
“Go out with you,” he corrected. “As in date. I’d like us to start again.”
She was definitely tempted. Where she found the courage to refuse him, Chrissie would never know. Slowly she shook her head.
“I did say I’d forgiven you, Scott,” she said. “But there are consequences to one’s behavior. Nothing you say now will ever undo the past. I wish you well, Scott, I really do, but I’m not going to risk letting you hurt me again.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then finally let his hands fall. “I can understand that,” he said quietly.
He turned away, and she didn’t stop him.
Four
Bethany Harris sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting impatiently for her husband to return from his late-evening rounds. Her thoughts were confused, and she wanted to discuss the O’Halloran party with him. When they’d left, Mitch had dropped her off at the house, then stopped in at the station to check with the night dispatcher, a habit he’d developed during his many years in law enforcement. He wouldn’t be long, she knew, but she was eager to talk about the events of the evening. Especially the exchange she’d witnessed between Chrissie and Scott.
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