Midnight Sons Volume 3 (11 page)

“Yes.”

Mariah seemed to forget he was her employer. Just because he’d practically kissed her feet when she’d agreed to come back didn’t mean she could get uppity with him.

“Do you have any objection to telling me where my brother is?” he asked, hardening his voice.

“None. He said he was going home for lunch.”

Sawyer had been doing that more often lately. If Christian had been aware of the time, he could probably have figured it out himself.

“Thank you,” he said coolly. He sat down at his desk and discovered a number of employment applications lying across the surface. The very ones he’d read through a dozen times the week before. The very ones he’d rejected.

“What are these for?” he asked in a way that would inform her his patience wasn’t limitless.

“You didn’t seem in any hurry to hire my replacement,” she said without emotion, “so I took the liberty of contacting a few of the applicants myself.”

He opened his mouth to object and realized he couldn’t. She was right; he wasn’t in any hurry to replace her. He told himself it was because he couldn’t handle the idea of training a new secretary; it seemed beyond him. Perhaps he was being unfair to Mariah, but he’d hoped that in time she’d decide to come back permanently. Then everything would return to the way it used to be.

“I guess you found a number of suitable applicants,” he said, gesturing at his desk.

“I called all of those. I offered the position to Libby Bozeman, who’s accepted. She’ll arrive in Hard Luck a week Friday. I printed up the contract and faxed it to her.”

“You
hired
her?”

Mariah’s back stiffened. “Yes. As I mentioned earlier, you didn’t seem to be in a hurry to replace me, so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Does Sawyer know?”

“Yes, and he approved Libby.”

“I see.” Christian knew when he was beaten. He leafed through the papers until he found Libby’s application. As he read over the simple form, it shocked him to see how naive they’d been going into this project. He’d requested only the most basic information. He hadn’t even asked for references.

“She looks suitable.” For the life of him, Christian couldn’t remember interviewing her.

“I talked to five or six of the other applicants this morning,” Mariah told him in that prim voice of hers. He could always tell when she was put out, because her voice dipped several degrees below freezing.

“Mrs. Bozeman seemed the most qualified.”

“She’s married?”

“No, but she was—until recently.”

“Was she married last year when I interviewed her?”

“Apparently so.”

“I see.” He did remember her now, and if his memory served him correctly, she was very qualified. Libby Bozeman was a tall, attractive woman, perhaps in her forties; she knew her mind and had no problem speaking it. A no-nonsense woman. Mariah had chosen well.

“If you have no objection, I’ll have an airline ticket sent to her.”

“None whatsoever,” Christian returned in the same crisp tones.

Neither spoke for several minutes. Then, because he had to know, Christian asked. “What about you? Where will you go?” He wondered how Ben felt about taking her back. The café owner was fond of Mariah—for that matter, so was Christian—but it hadn’t worked before and he doubted Mariah would be willing to try again.

“Where will I go?” Mariah repeated softly as if considering the question for the first time.

Christian stopped himself from making several suggestions, all of which would keep her in Hard Luck.

She looked up at him, and it seemed her eyes were brighter than normal. Slowly she released her breath, and when she spoke her voice faltered slightly. “Somewhere I won’t ever have to see you again, Christian O’Halloran.”

C
HRISTIAN WALKED BACK
to his house later that afternoon, his hands buried in his pockets. His spirits dragged along the road like an untied shoelace, threatening to trip him.

Mariah leaving. Again. Only this time she was leaving more than Midnight Sons. She was leaving Hard Luck. Leaving Alaska.
Leaving him.

Libby Bozeman. He was sure she’d work out fine, but damn it all, he wanted Mariah. At least this time she’d agreed to stay until Libby could be properly trained.

Even Sawyer seemed to think it was best to let Mariah go. Christian had approached his brother the minute the two of them were alone, and Sawyer had shrugged and reminded him that they couldn’t force her to stay.

When he reached his house, Christian noticed that Scott and Ronny Gold were playing catch with Eagle Catcher in the front yard of Sawyer’s home across the street. Depressed, he sank onto the top porch step, watching the boys’ carefree play. Scott and Ronny tossed the stick and Eagle Catcher dashed across the yard to retrieve it.

Christian didn’t know how long he sat there taking in the scene. Soon it would be dinnertime, but he didn’t have the energy to cook, nor did he feel like joining Ben at the café. The fact was, he didn’t seem all that hungry.

Susan stuck her head out the door of their house and shouted something Christian couldn’t hear. Ronny Gold took off running, but Scott stayed behind with his dog.

Christian envied Sawyer. It had all been so easy for him. Abbey arrived with the kids, and within a month they’d decided to marry. No muss. No fuss. Easy as pie.

“Hiya, Uncle Christian.”

Caught up in his misery, Christian hadn’t noticed Scott’s
approach. Now the ten-year-old was standing on the other side of the fence.

“Hello, Scott.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t look so good.”

Christian couldn’t think of a way to explain his complicated, confused emotions to a child. He couldn’t even explain them to himself.

Scott let himself into the yard and sat down on the step below Christian. “Does this have to do with Mariah leaving?”

Christian’s eyes widened before he realized Scott must’ve heard Sawyer talking about the new secretary to Abbey. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“You want me to give you some advice on romance? I’m good at that.”

“You?”

“Sure. I helped Sawyer before he asked my mom to marry him. I told him about those bath-oil beads that melt in the water.”

Christian gently patted the boy’s shoulder. It wouldn’t be that simple with Mariah. Bath-oil beads weren’t going to help
this
situation.

“Matt Caldwell asked me for advice on how to get Karen back, too.”

“He did?” That surprised Christian. He’d always assumed Matt’s reconciliation with his pregnant wife had been quick and effortless. She hadn’t been back in Hard Luck long before they’d remarried. Every time he saw them lately, they behaved like newlyweds. It was hard to believe they’d ever been divorced.

“Matt bought an ice-cream bar for me,” Scott told him. “My advice must’ve worked, ’cause he and Karen got married right after that.”

“Good for you.”

Scott leaned his back against the step. “You need any advice, I’ll help you, too.”

“Thanks for the offer, but what’s going on between me and Mariah is different.”

Scott cocked his head to look up at Christian. “How’s that?”

“I really like Mariah.”

“But you aren’t sure you love her,” Scott finished for him.

“Yes,” Christian said, straightening. Scott’s insight surprised him.

“I know what you mean,” the boy said, sounding mature beyond his years. “It’s like me and Chrissie Harris.”

It took Christian a moment to remember that Chrissie was Mitch Harris’s daughter. Mitch and Bethany had married that summer. “What about you and Chrissie?” he asked.

“Well,” Scott said, propping his elbows on the step above. His look was thoughtful. “She’s my little sister’s best friend and she can be a real pest.”

Clearly the boy knew women.

“But I like her,” Scott continued with a heartfelt sigh.

Christian couldn’t believe how adequately Scott had described his feelings about Mariah.

“But you know, sometimes I look at Chrissie and I think she’s got the nicest eyes of any girl I’ve ever seen.”

Christian thought Mariah’s eyes were beautiful, too. The way they drifted shut at the precise moment he knew he needed to kiss her. How her long eyelashes brushed against the high arch of her cheek. How expressive they were, betraying every mood from anger to ecstasy. Her eyes. Oh, yes, she had beautiful eyes.

“Sometimes I think Chrissie’s gotta be the prettiest girl in the world. Even with freckles.”

That, too, accurately described Christian’s feelings. He recalled the time he flew to Seattle and had dinner with Allison Reynolds. Outwardly she was a knockout, but he’d found her frivolous and superficial. Mariah, though…there wasn’t an ounce of phoniness. “Mariah doesn’t have freckles, but I know what you mean.”

Scott grinned. “I thought you would.” Then his expression turned serious. “I like Chrissie ’cause she’s a good friend of Susan’s. I don’t know if Susan would’ve liked living in Hard Luck so much if it wasn’t for Chrissie.”

Christian mentally reviewed the women who’d come and gone in the past year. A number had stayed and settled in the community, and a number had left. Despite the hardships, despite the cold, Mariah had stayed. He’d misjudged her from the start, believing she’d be one of the first to pack her bags and go.

Scott’s sigh was heartfelt. “One day I’ll probably marry Chrissie Harris.”

Christian winced at the word “marry”—it had always made him uncomfortable. “Don’t you think you’re a bit young to be talking about that sort of thing?”

“Sure, I’ve still got a lot of years, and Mom and Dad are already talking about me going to college.”

Christian patted the boy’s shoulder again, more vigorously this time, proud to call him nephew.

“But I’ve decided if I don’t marry Chrissie, I want a girl like her.”

“Scott!” Susan stood on the front porch across the street and hollered at the top of her lungs. “Dinner!”

“You should get going.”

“Yeah. Mom’s serving my favorite meat loaf tonight. She got the recipe out of the newspaper a long time ago from some lady who writes an advice column.”

“Don’t keep her waiting then.” Christian might not know much about dealing with women, but he knew better than to let his dinner get cold.

“Did I help you any?” Scott asked.

“You did.” It was true. “You should think about writing an advice column of your own.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “I just might, you know. Someday Aunt Lanni wants to start a newspaper in Hard Luck. She might give me a column ’cause we’re related.”

“If you want, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Scott beamed. “Great!”

Advice to the lovelorn from Scott O’Halloran, Hard Luck’s hometown expert.

Smiling for the first time since Mariah had announced she was leaving, Christian stood up. His hand was on the front doorknob when something Scott had said suddenly struck him.

Scott wanted to marry a girl like Chrissie.

A woman like Mariah. That was what Christian wanted in his life. A woman like Mariah.

M
ARIAH HADN’T DECIDED
what she’d do or where she’d live once Libby Bozeman was trained. The thought of leaving Hard Luck made her infinitely sad. But she had no choice if she wanted to avoid Christian O’Halloran.

Just thinking about that stubborn, obtuse man made her angry all over again. Angry enough to find it impossible to sit still. So, after dinner, she took a walk.

The sun was getting ready to set, and it wouldn’t be long before dark, but she didn’t let that deter her.

“I’ll be back soon,” she told Matt and Karen who sat in the swing on the front porch. Karen’s head rested against her husband’s shoulder, and Matt had one arm around her. Much as Mariah loved them both and delighted in their happiness, right now it was painful to watch.

Buttoning her sweater, collar pulled up around her ears, she walked briskly for about ten minutes.

Night descended faster than she’d expected, and not wanting to stumble about in the dark, she started to take a shortcut around the back of the Hard Luck Café.

Apparently Ben had just stepped outside, because the light from the open kitchen door spilled out, illuminating her path.

Mariah kept her head down, anxious to be on her way and avoid exchanging pleasantries.

She heard a muffled sound and paused to glance back. At first she saw nothing, then made out a shadowy form. It appeared to be a large animal on the ground, next to the garbage cans outside the back door. She hesitated, uncertain if she should venture closer. Lanni had once encountered a bear on the tundra, and just hearing the tale had given Mariah goose bumps.

She took a step, then two, before deciding it was ridiculous to run from her fears. If it was a bear in the shadows, he’d get far more interesting fare from Ben’s garbage than she could provide.

As she approached the light, Mariah could tell it wasn’t an animal down there in the shadows, but a person.

“Ben?” she whispered. “Ben!”

Ben didn’t stir.

“B
EN
.” M
ARIAH FELL
to her knees and pressed her finger against the artery in his neck. Again and again she tried to locate a pulse but found none. Her own accelerated at an alarming pace as she realized Ben Hamilton had probably suffered a heart attack.

She left him only long enough to race into the kitchen and call for help. She dialed Mitch’s number. Hard as she tried to remain calm, her words were rushed and she felt close to panic.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply and think clearly, she returned to Ben’s side and carefully rolled him onto his back. His head lolled to one side and his coloring was poor. She slid her hand behind his neck, then lifted his head and began to administer CPR. Luckily she’d taken a course in cardiopulmonary resuscitation in college and knew what needed to be done.

“Ben, oh, Ben,” she said as she pressed the heel of her hand
against his chest and pumped. He wasn’t breathing on his own. His heart began again—erratically, but it was beating. She stopped to administer mouth-to-mouth.

She wasn’t sure how long she worked, alternating between the breathing and pumping his heart. It seemed as though an eternity had passed before she heard footsteps behind her.

“What happened?” Mitch shouted.

“Heart attack,” she panted. The two words required an inordinate amount of energy.

Mitch squatted down beside Ben and assisted her, taking over the breathing while she continued to work on the older man’s heart.

Two emergency medical volunteers arrived at the scene and took over. A crowd started to gather, everyone whispering as Ben was loaded into the back of the ambulance and rushed to the health clinic.

“Mitch!” Bethany cried from behind him. “What’s going on?”

Mariah watched Mitch gather his wife into his arms. “It’s Ben,” he whispered. Bethany’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“His heart?” Her voice trembled and she bit her lip. “I knew something wasn’t right. He promised me he’d stop working so hard. He
promised.
”

Mitch smoothed the hair away from Bethany’s face in a gentle gesture of love and comfort.

“I just found him,” Bethany sobbed in agony. “I can’t lose him now.”

“Are you okay, Mariah?” Sawyer O’Halloran arrived breathless, Abbey right behind him. “We were at Mitch’s when you called.”

Mariah felt as if she was in a daze, but she managed to nod.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.” But she’d never felt this shaky. All at once her bones seemed to dissolve, and she slumped against the side of the building.

“I think you need to sit down,” Abbey said, taking Mariah by the hand and leading her into the café. She steered Mariah to a chair, then quickly made a pot of tea.

“What’s going to happen to Ben?” Mariah asked, praying her meager efforts had been enough to save him. She worried about whether she’d followed the procedure correctly. The CPR class had been years ago, and she might have forgotten something.

“Medical transport is on the way. A medical team will arrive by helicopter in just a little while,” Sawyer explained. “Christian’s on the radio with them now.”

Abbey added a liberal amount of sugar to Mariah’s tea and stirred it briskly. “Here,” she said, “drink this.”

“How’d you find him?” Sawyer wanted to know.

Mariah told them she’d gone out for a walk after dinner and was taking a shortcut back to the lodge because of the dark when she found Ben. She trembled as she spoke, remembering how she almost hadn’t stopped to check. How she’d nearly given in to the fear of encountering a bear.

“Without you, Ben would’ve died.”

Cupping the mug with both hands, Mariah drank deeply. It went without saying that Ben could still die.

By the time the distinctive sound of the helicopter could be heard in the distance, half the town had gathered by the
airfield. Not that there was anything to see or do. People came to lend emotional support to one another, to show Ben that they cared and that he was an important part of their lives. To show him that Hard Luck wouldn’t be the same without him. Even though Ben was unconscious, Mariah believed that all this love must touch him in some way.

As the emergency medical technicians wheeled Ben to the plane, the prayers and hopes of the community went with him.

“Any family?” a man called from inside the transport.

Bethany whispered something to Mitch, then hugged him and Chrissie and rushed to climb into the helicopter.

After the helicopter lifted off the runway, everyone started to talk at once. A number of the curious crowded around Mariah, and she repeated the story of how she’d discovered Ben. People were standing around Mitch, too, asking questions about Bethany’s relationship with Ben. Mariah couldn’t hear what he said and was too exhausted to wonder about it right now.

Karen and Matt walked back to the lodge with her. As she headed up the porch steps, Mariah saw Christian. He stood nearby, talking to Sawyer and Charles. His gaze left his brothers and moved to her. Their eyes met for a long moment, before she gained the strength to look away. Her heart was filled with a deep sadness as she turned and entered the lodge.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
Christian was the first to arrive at the Midnight Sons office. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Twice he’d called the hospital and talked to Bethany, and the news was good. Ben was stabilized, and the hospital had scheduled a number of tests. If all went
as the doctors expected, Ben would be headed for open-heart surgery early that afternoon.

Worrying about Ben’s condition wasn’t all that had kept Christian awake. He’d given some thought to what he’d learned about his friend last night—that he was Bethany’s natural father. Not surprisingly, it was all over town. People were shocked but more than that, they were genuinely pleased. Christian had also been thinking about Mariah.

He mulled over everything that had happened in the past fourteen months, everything he knew about her, from her courage in coming here to her skill and bravery last night. He considered her compassion, too, her honesty, her sense of humor. He’d misjudged her for so long.
A woman like Mariah.
The words wouldn’t stop circling in his mind.

If he did marry, and eventually he intended to, he wanted a woman like Mariah. Not a fancy city girl like Allison. Or even one like Vickie, nice though she was. He wanted a woman like Mariah. But if he’d already found her, then—

The door to the office opened, cutting him off in midthought. Mariah walked in, and she looked as tired as Christian felt.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” he told her. He stood in front of the machine and waited for the liquid to finish filtering through, then poured them each a mug.

“Have you heard anything about Ben?” she asked, thanking him for the coffee with a weak smile.

Christian told her what he’d learned.

Mariah held the cup tightly with both hands. She was paler than he could remember, and the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her was strong. It hurt to realize she didn’t want him.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, perching on the corner of her desk.

“I didn’t.”

“Me, neither.”

“I…don’t know if I’m going to get much work done today,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

The door opened again, and Sawyer entered. He paused when he saw Christian so close to Mariah. Christian started to tell him what he knew about Ben.

“I talked to Bethany myself,” Sawyer said, interrupting him. “Charles and Lanni are flying into Fairbanks this morning to be with her. Mitch, too. They’ll keep in close touch and let us know how he’s doing.”

“Good,” Christian said. But he wished Sawyer hadn’t arrived just then, because he wanted—needed—to talk to Mariah.

“I…I was telling Christian I don’t know if I’ll be much help around here today,” Mariah said, sounding strangely fragile.

“Take the day off,” Sawyer suggested. “I wouldn’t be here myself if it wasn’t necessary.” He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. “I doubt anyone got any sleep last night. Abbey and I didn’t, that’s for sure, and the kids were up half the night, too.”

“Everyone loves Ben,” Christian said. “He—”

“The guy makes me mad,” Sawyer broke in angrily. “He should’ve hired help a long time ago. Running the café alone is too much for him.”

Christian felt the same kind of anger, but it was directed at himself. The symptoms had been there all along. The fatigue, shortness of breath—the very fact that he’d hired Mariah. He should have recognized Ben’s increasing weakness. His guilt increased tenfold, knowing he’d taken Mariah away from Ben.

Mariah reached for her jacket. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow morning. When you find out about Ben’s surgery, I’d appreciate hearing.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Sawyer promised.

“Thanks.”

Christian didn’t want Mariah to leave, not until he’d talked to her. “I’ll walk you to the lodge,” he said.

“Walk her to the lodge?” Sawyer repeated. “Trust me, little brother, she knows the way. Besides, I need you here. We’re going to be shorthanded as it is.”

Christian felt like groaning with frustration, but when he looked at Mariah, he noticed that she seemed relieved. She didn’t want his company.

F
IVE DAYS LATER
Christian sat in the Fairbanks Memorial Hospital waiting room. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Twice he looked at his watch, wondering how much longer it would be before the nurse caring for Ben would let him into the room.

Ben was recovering from his surgery, which had taken place within twenty-four hours of his arrival. He was said to be wreaking all kinds of havoc with the staff. One nurse had claimed she’d rather care for a roomful of newborns than take another shift with Ben Hamilton.

Christian smiled just thinking about it.

“You can see Mr. Hamilton now.”

Christian barely noticed the woman who spoke. He jumped out of his seat before she could change her mind and hurried toward Ben’s room.

To Christian’s surprise, his friend was sitting up in bed, and
although he was pale, his coloring was decidedly better than before the surgery. Above all, Ben was alive.

Very much alive.

“Quit looking at me like you’re viewing buzzard bait,” he grumbled.

Christian burst out laughing. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t mind saying it’s a pleasure to see you, too.” Ben grinned, but the effort seemed to tax him. “I’ve been told that if it wasn’t for Mariah I wouldn’t be here now.”

“That’s right.” Christian pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down.

“Speaking of Mariah,” Ben said, dropping his head back against the pillow. “You still denying you’re in love with her?”

A week earlier, Christian would have loudly denounced any such thing. What a difference this past week had made. “No,” he answered flatly.

“So, is she staying in Hard Luck?”

“I don’t know what her plans are at this point.”

“For heaven’s sake, are you going to marry her or not?”

Leave it to Ben to zero in on the one question that remained unanswered in his mind. It had taken him far longer than it should have to recognize the truth about his feelings for Mariah. In retrospect, he was embarrassed to admit how obtuse he’d been. He didn’t know exactly when he’d come to care for her so deeply—sometime between the day of her arrival when she’d chased her underwear across the runway and the night she’d saved Ben’s life.

Okay, he could admit he loved her, but did that mean he had to
do
something about it?

“I’m not ready for marriage,” he declared.

Ben chuckled, the sound pitifully weak. “Have you talked it over with Mariah?”

“No.” He hadn’t even told her he loved her yet.

“What are you afraid of, son?”

Yeah, Ben always did have a way of getting right to the heart of the matter. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t like he wanted to play the field; his dates with Vickie and particularly Allison had proved that. He’d gone out with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met and spent the entire night wishing he was with Mariah.

Even Vickie, who used to be head-over-heels crazy about him, was ready to toss him to the wolves because he’d spent their date talking about Mariah. Other women bored him. He wanted a woman who was strong and funny and brave and sweet.

A woman like Mariah.

“Seems to me you don’t know what you want,” Ben said.

“I do know what I want,” Christian responded. “My problem is I don’t know what to do about it.” He sat for several more minutes, thinking. When he looked up again he saw that Ben was asleep. He stood and gently squeezed his friend’s arm. It was time he went back to Hard Luck, anyway.

Ben was going to be just fine.

M
ARIAH LOVED TO SIT
out on the lodge’s porch swing. The September afternoon was glorious with sunshine. Colors had started to change and the tundra was ablaze in orange and reds. Snow would come soon; in fact, there’d already been a light snowfall a few nights before. Before long the rivers would freeze, and daylight would be almost nonexistent.

She loved Hard Luck, loved Alaska, and didn’t want to leave. She knew she needed to make a decision, but had delayed it.

Although Karen and Matt had offered to let her stay at the lodge indefinitely, Mariah had declined. Their generosity had touched her heart, but they had enough to do with the arrival of the baby and operating their tour business. An extra guest, even a paying one, would be a burden they didn’t need.

That meant Mariah had to make a number of important decisions regarding her future.

It also meant she couldn’t stay in Hard Luck.

And yet the thought of leaving filled her with unbearable sadness. Hard Luck was her home, more so than Seattle, where she’d been born and raised. Her friends were here.

Christian was here.

Moving the swing back and forth, she surveyed her options. She was so deep in thought she didn’t hear Christian’s approach.

“Mariah?” He stood on the top step and wrapped one arm around the support column.