Seduced by Snowfall

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Maybe I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of a trapper with a thirteen-year-old in tow.”

  “There’s something else. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s mentally disturbed in some way. I mean, she’s never gone to school and she seems fascinated by machines. Don’t the trappers use four-wheelers?”

  “Most of them, sure. There could be some hard-core subsistence types out there still. It’s hard to know. They do their own thing off in the wilderness.”

  “Well, I guess that’s their right, but not when it comes to a child. I have a duty to report any suspicion of child abuse or neglect. We both do.”

  “I know that. But I don’t think that injury is from abuse. I’ve gotten no hint of that.”

  “Not taking her to school is abuse.”

  “That’s a good point.” Nate drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, frowning at the road ahead. These were the kind of questions he’d been struggling with. But now he could consult with someone, and that was a relief. “If you feel we should report her to the state, I’ll do it. What do you think?”

  She went quiet as she thought it over. “Well, I’m normally a stickler for rules. But in this case, I think we should wait a little longer. She’s so wary and she could easily run away at any moment. If she does, she could get into a much worse situation. She’s safe here, and that’s the important thing. We should continue to keep an eye on her.”

  He smiled at her use of “we,” but didn’t point it out.

  “She likes you, and I do think she’s starting to trust you,” she continued.

  “She trusts you too, or she wouldn’t have let you touch her ankle. Thanks again, Bethany. You really eased my mind. I’m still worried about her, but at least I know she’s not dying from a wound gone septic.”

  To his utter surprise, she scooted across his bench seat and dropped a kiss on his cheek. The soft touch of her lips sent a small shock through him. “You’re welcome. Thanks for trusting me with your secret.”

  He grinned at her. “One of them, anyway.”

  “You have more?”

  “Patience, little one. Patience.”

  “Oh, like that’s not annoying at all.” She scooted back across the seat.

  He immediately missed her closeness. But she was probably right to put some distance between them. Ever since the Olde Salt, something between them had shifted. It unnerved him. “Hey, you know who grows comfrey? Nicola Bellini. Wonderful herb gardener, questionable matchmaker.”

  Shockingly enough, one of Nate’s untold secrets dropped into Bethany’s lap when she wasn’t even looking for it. She was looking for comfrey, not confessionals, when she stopped by Mrs. Bellini’s house on her way to work the next day.

  Nicola Bellini met her at the door with a grocery bag filled with big fuzzy gray-green leaves. She leaned on a walker and one side of her face was slack, but she looked far better than the last time Bethany had seen her.

  “Come in, please,” the woman begged her.

  “I really don’t have much time. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

  “But you haven’t t-told me about your d-date with Nate yet.”

  “I haven’t?” That seemed so long ago, like another lifetime. “Well, that was a while ago. No more dates, but we’ve become pretty good friends.”

  “Friends?” Mrs. Bellini shook her head, as if the very word was an offense. “No friends. No no. Nate has friends. He needs,” she touched her chest, “a woman for his heart.”

  “Well, that may be true, but I don’t think I’m the one for that role.” She bent down and kissed the old woman on the cheek. “It was kind of you to try.”

  Nicola leaned on her walker, looking surprisingly downcast. “Poor boy. Poor Nate.”

  “Really, I don’t think you have to worry about Nate. He can take care of himself, especially when it comes to his social life. He’s very attractive and fun to be with.”

  Nicola shook off her words with an impatient scowl. “This is just…pfft…nothing. I worry for that poor boy. His heart was broken when he was little. That d-dimple can’t hide it. I know broken hearts. Baklava and pizza and broken hearts. All things I know very well.”

  Now that was certainly intriguing. “What do you mean, his heart was broken? He doesn’t seem that way to me. He doesn’t take things seriously enough to get his heart broken.”

  “Come have some c-coffee. Just for a minute. You need to know m-more about Nate.”

  Nicola gestured for her to come inside. Bethany checked her watch. She could spare five minutes, especially for something so intriguing. She followed the older woman into the big farmhouse kitchen. It smelled deliciously of herbs—rosemary and oregano mostly. She noticed a few bundles of herbs drying on a rack, probably destined for Last Chance Pizza.

  She helped her former patient transfer to a chair, then followed her directions and poured both of them a cup of coffee. With another quick glance at the time, she sat down at the table next to her.

  “I used to always b-be in a hurry too,” Nicola said with a sigh. “Six kids and a pizza b-business. Work, work, work. My g-garden was to relax.”

  “That’s a lovely way to relax.” Oh Lord, she really didn’t have time for an extended conversation. But Nicola Bellini was a storyteller, and she wasn’t about to be rushed.

  “My g-garden, and s…st…stitch…”

  Bethany wanted to help her but couldn’t imagine what phrase she was trying to say.

  “Stitch-and-bbb-itch,” she finally managed.

  “Stitch-and-bitch?” Was that really what she’d meant to say?

  “Knitting, c-crocheting, g-gossip. Friendship.”

  “Ah, I see.” Bethany took a long swallow of coffee, hoping Mrs. Bellini would get the hint.

  She did.

  “It was Judy P-rudhoe’s turn to host stitch-and-b-bitch at the Hilltop. Beautiful house. N-nate’s house now, but he was only seven when it happened.”

  “When what happened?”

  But Mrs. Bellini was determined to tell the story in her own way.

  “At the end of stitch-and-bitch, everyone else l-left. I stayed to help c-clean up. The baby was asleep in another room. Little girl, such a d-doll. Sabrina, they called her. Little, about eight months old. N-nate comes running in, shouting ‘something’s wrong with Sabrina.’ We ran in to check on her and she wasn’t b-breathing.”

  “Oh no.” Bethany’s heart twisted, even as her doctor brain wondered, was it SIDS?

  “I called 9-1-1 and they c-came right away and gave her CPR. Oxygen. N-nothing worked. She was gone.”

  Bethany’s heart ached as she absorbed the story Nicola had just told her. She’d witnessed the aftermath of two SIDS cases, and had seen the devastation with her own eyes.

  “P-poor little Nate. He never talks about it but I see it in his eyes. Broken heart.”

  “You said he was seven when it happened?”

  “About seven. He was so s-sweet with her. His other b-brothers are older and always g-gone. N-nate used to change her d-diapers and r-run home from the school b-bus to play with her.”

  It was all too easy to imagine Nate being utterly, adorably devoted to his little sister. “That’s very sad. He’s never said anything about that.”

  “N-no, he won’t. Zoe says he never talks about it. No one does. So l-long ago.”

  Bethany noticed the signs that the older woman was fatiguing. The amount of energy she had for talking was impressive. At the hospital, both Zoe and Theo Bellini had told her that regaining her speech would be even more important than learning to walk again.

  Speaking of Theo, the man himself walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips from the counter. Huge and hard-muscled, he radiated energy from every cell. He’d recently returned to Lost Harbor after his divorce, which, Nicola Bellini had informed her, was the reason she’d set Bethany up with Nate instead of her own son.

  “Hi there, Dr. Morrison. What brings you to Casa Bellini?”

  Bethany
held up the grocery bag of comfrey leaves. “Some homegrown medicine. Not that kind,” she added quickly.

  Theo gave a booming laugh. “They say the other kind helps stroke survivors. Maybe you should consider it, Mama.”

  Nicola waved her hand in a “get out of here” gesture. “So silly.”

  Bethany got to her feet. “I have to get back to the hospital. Nicola, it’s great to see you doing so well. Theo, nice to see you again.”

  She caught a gleam of interest in his eyes, and hurried away before he could do something crazy like ask her out. Theo was a great guy, but Ian Finnegan was back in Lost Harbor for another short stint, and she had a new plan of action.

  This plan was perfect, and now that she knew about Nate’s history, it even had a side benefit.

  Maybe it would help mend his broken heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next time Nate checked on S.G., she was happily applying a comfrey poultice to her ankle. So Bethany had come through. Good for her. Not that he was surprised, exactly—okay, maybe he was. At first she’d seemed so serious and distant. But now he had a very different impression of her. Warm and caring came to mind—and that wasn’t even counting the red dress.

  Later that day, Bethany surprised him again. She called and invited him on a double date with her, her sister Gretel, and another doctor from the hospital.

  “A double date? Because we did so well on the last one, might as well double down?”

  “No, it’s…well, it’s not that kind of date. It’s more of a group thing.”

  “I suppose that could be fun, depending on the group,” he said warily. “Can I bring my friend Maya? She needs to get out more.”

  “Okay, listen. It’s not really a group thing. It’s a double date, and your date would be Gretel.”

  “Gretel.” He didn’t want to date Gretel. “But—”

  “Come on, give it a chance. You both like having fun and not taking things too seriously. She thinks you’re cute and a good guy. It’ll be fun. Except that we don’t know where to go. What’s the best double-date sort of place in Lost Harbor?”

  He had no idea what was going on here—he was pretty sure that Gretel wasn’t interested in him—but he kind of wanted to find out. On his own terms.

  “How about you all come over to my place for dinner? We’re casual like that here in Alaska.”

  “You cook?”

  “Of course I cook. I’m a grown man, aren’t I? I’m famous for my moose chili, but I’ll spare you that experience. I can grill some steaks, roast some potatoes.”

  “Well…okay. Sure, if you don’t mind doing all that work for a date that wasn’t even your idea.”

  He laughed that off. “I like having people over. This way we skip the whole ‘date’ part of the equation. It’ll be more of a dinner party. Bring drinks and dessert and a Morrison sister or two, whoever you have hanging around.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks.”

  “And who’s the other guy? I like to know who’s coming to my house.”

  A note of self-consciousness stole into her voice. “His name is Ian Finnegan, and he’s a visiting neurosurgeon at the hospital.”

  “Ian Finnegan. Neurotic. Got it.”

  He hung up the phone before she could correct him. Because now he was a little irritated. Whoever this neurologist was, he was obviously more Bethany’s type than Nate was. Was it the advanced degree? The shared profession?

  And what exactly was Gretel’s angle in all this? If he’d wanted to ask Gretel out, he would have. She wasn’t really his speed, and he was pretty sure the lack of connection went both ways. In his experience, it wasn’t hard to tell when women were attracted to him and when they weren’t. He got more of those vibes from Bethany than from Gretel—no matter what Bethany claimed.

  So if Gretel was going along with this double-date idea, did she have another goal? Like…to get Bethany together with Ian Finnegan?

  On a whim, he opened his iPad and googled Dr. Ian Finnegan.

  Fuck. Not only was the guy brilliant, but he looked like an Italian supermodel. How was an ordinary fireman from Lost Harbor, Alaska, supposed to have a chance with someone like that around?

  Wait. Was he wanting another chance with Bethany? When had that changed?

  He shook it off. Maybe his feelings had changed a little bit. So what? They could change back easily enough. That was how he did things. Easy come, easy go.

  “So am I getting this right? For some bizarro reason, you’re not interested in hottie Nate the fireman who seems to really like you.” Gretel was curling her hair for the double-date, while Bethany sat in front of the mirror trying not to compare herself with her stunning sister.

  “He likes me in a friendly way, and that goes both ways.”

  “But you do like this neurosurgeon even though he keeps ignoring you.”

  “He’s pretty perfect.”

  “Except for the ignoring part.” Gretel released the curling iron and moved to a new lock of Bethany’s hair.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, did I burn you?”

  “No, I just…he’s not ignoring me, he just doesn’t see me as a romantic prospect yet.”

  “Ah. Well, this should help.”

  Gretel opened the bathroom door and took a hanger off the hook. She showed Bethany a low-cut, iridescent silver slip of a dress.

  “No,” Bethany said adamantly. “He’ll lose all respect for me.”

  “I thought you wanted him to see you as fuck-able?”

  “Not exactly. I want him to see me as partner material. Marriage material.”

  “That includes fucking, right?”

  Bethany sighed. “You have such a way with words.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Gretel explained as if to a child. “I honestly don’t know how the child of Lloyd Morrison, with all those wives coming and going, could be so clueless. Trust me, Ian already knows you’re a good person, smart, good doctor, all of that. Of course you’re good marriage material. You’re the best! But right now you need the sex juice.” She held up the skimpy, sparkly creation. “This is your juice, right here. And we’re going to leave your hair down. Men need strong visual cues. I hope you’re taking notes, B. This wisdom didn’t come cheap.”

  “Oh stop. You know you were born with it.”

  “That may be true, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t put in the study time too.” Gretel put the dress back on the hanger and ran her hands through Bethany’s hair. “So my job is to distract Nate so that you can flirt with Ian?”

  “Your job is to have fun with an attractive fireman. I really think you should give him a chance. He’s so much more than I thought at first. He’s smart, he’s traveled a lot, just like you, he’s really fun to be with, he’s kind. He’s the type of guy you could be really happy with.”

  Gretel shot her an odd look, and started to say something, then stopped. She sprayed some product on Bethany’s hair, then fluffed it up.

  “You’re ready to slay. Let’s do this.”

  Nate had sent her a link with directions to his house. Gretel navigated while Bethany drove up a curving road past the far edge of town, up some more, then up even more until they reached a spectacular house that made Gretel whistle in awe. It perched at the very peak of the hill, surrounded by grassy slopes and tall spruce. Its many tall picture windows blazed with light from the last rays of the sun.

  “Sweet mama, is that really Nate’s house? I thought he was a fireman, not a duke.”

  Bethany was at a loss for words as she took in the sight. The house looked like a whimsical Alaskan version of a fairytale castle. It had gables and hewn log walls, two chimneys, a wide front deck with a hot tub and, most spectacularly, a glass cupola on top. With its hilltop location, it had literal three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views.

  Solar panels covered one flank of the rooftop, and a big propane tank sat to the right of the house, along with a cabin-size woodshed packed to the brim with cut logs.

&nbs
p; “It must be a nightmare to heat,” Bethany murmured.

  “You’re just jealous. These views. My God.” Gretel got out of the car and spread her arms wide, taking in the endless vistas. Misty clouds clung to the mountaintops across the bay and deep shadows darkened the slate-blue surface of the ocean. Only a sliver of sun hadn’t yet disappeared below the horizon. Night was gathering at the edges of the world.

  “Hola!” Nate called to them from his open front door. Barefoot, a mixing bowl in one arm, he waved a whisk at them. “You get the same view from in here, plus it’s warm. And there’s drinks.” With his mussed hair and eyes as gray as the fog, he made her mouth water.

  She thought of seven-year-old Nate running in from the bedroom, terrified because his sister had stopped breathing. The story Nicola Bellini had told her kept running through her mind. She wished she could ask Nate about it, but he’d never once mentioned anything about a sister. As Nicole had said, no one talked about the tragedy, not even Nate.

  “Oh, he’s freaking adorable,” Gretel murmured. “Are you sure about this? You can still change your mind. I’m flexible. I can get down with a flaky neurologist.”

  Bethany gritted her teeth. “He’s not flaky. He just lives in his head and…no. Ian doesn’t know you, and he’s not good with new people. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Besides, Nate and I are just friends.”

  “Okay. You’re the boss. But if you change your mind—”

  “Stop it.” Bethany brushed past her, heading for the warmth of the house and Nate. Right now, she really regretted giving in to Gretel about the dress, because she was freezing even under her parka.

  “I should have warned you to dress warmly,” Nate murmured as she dashed up the front stairs. “We’re in another climate zone up here. It’s called the Arctic.”

  He stepped aside to usher her into the woodfire warmth of the spacious interior. The sudden change—from freezing to cozy—made her almost dizzy.

  She gazed around with the sense of stepping into some earthly version of Heaven. Everywhere she looked there was an enchanting view, a stone hearth, or the sheen of a pine floor.