Midnight Sons Volume 2 Page 9

  “Bethany, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve lain awake nights worrying what you must think of me.”

  Confused and hurt, Bethany said nothing.

  He gestured helplessly. “I’m sorry. What more can I say? Talk to me, would you? Say something. Anything.”

  “What are you sorry for?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “Kissing me?”

  “Yes.”

  Even now he didn’t seem to realize she’d been a willing participant. “You needed me. Was that why?”

  “Yes,” he said, as if this was his greatest sin.

  She hesitated, searching for the words. “Any other woman would have done just as well. Isn’t that what you’re really saying? It wasn’t me you were kissing. It wasn’t me you needed. I just happened to…be available.”

  He didn’t disagree.

  Chapter

  6

  November 1995

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Duke Porter asked John for the second time. An incredulous look contorted the pilot’s features. “You’re actually going to do it?”

  “Yes,” John said, irritated. He jerked the grease rag from his back pocket and brusquely wiped his hands.

  Duke followed him to the far end of the hangar while John put away the tools he’d used. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  John didn’t hesitate. “I’m absolutely, positively sure.”

  “But you hardly know the woman.”

  “I know everything I need to know,” he muttered. Duke was good at raising his hackles, but nothing was going to ruin this day. The engagement ring was waiting in his pocket. His eagerness to propose was nothing compared to the way he felt about Sally.

  This time it was his turn. Earlier, he’d fallen all over himself in an attempt to court Abbey Sutherland. What he hadn’t known was that Sawyer O’Halloran had stolen her heart without giving any of the others a chance.

  Then there was Lanni Caldwell. John had never seriously considered her wife material, believing she’d only be in town for the summer. Duke might’ve been more interested in striking up a relationship with her, but once again they’d been beaten out by one of the O’Hallorans.

  John liked Mariah Douglas well enough, but it was plain as the nose on your face that she had eyes only for Christian. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was tangle with her. Daddy Douglas just might sic that attorney on him.

  He’d had a shot with Bethany, the schoolteacher. In the beginning he was quite drawn to her. He knew she didn’t share his enthusiasm, but he’d figured that, given time, their friendship might grow into something more.

  Then Sally McDonald had arrived.

  Sally, with her pretty blue eyes and her gentle smile. He’d taken one look at her and his heart had stopped beating. In that moment, he’d recognized beyond any doubt that she was the one for him. After John had met Sally, he didn’t resent Sawyer for stealing Abbey away from him and the others. It seemed unimportant that Lanni was marrying Charles, or that Bethany Ross wasn’t as keen on him as he’d been on her. Sally was the one for him.

  “If you want my opinion…”

  John glared at Duke. “I didn’t ask for it, did I?”

  “No,” Duke said, “but I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

  John sighed loudly. “All right. If it’s so important, tell me what you think.”

  “I can understand why you’d want to marry Sally—” Duke began.

  “But you’re thinking about her for yourself!” This explained why Duke was poking into something that was none of his concern.

  “No way,” Duke said, raising both hands. “I’m off women. Too many of ’em are like that lawyer, looking for any excuse to chew a man’s butt.”

  “Tracy Santiago wasn’t like that.” John grinned broadly at the memory of their clashes. To be fair, he wasn’t interested in her for himself, but he kinda liked the way she’d cut Duke down to size. “She was doing her job, that’s all.”

  “Listen, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss that she-devil. She’s gone, at least for now, and all I can say is good riddance. The woman was nothing but a nuisance.”

  John swallowed a laugh. He’d never seen Duke get this riled up over a woman. It seemed to his inexperienced eye that his friend protested too much. He figured that, this time, Duke had met his match. Too bad Tracy lived in Washington State and Duke in Alaska.

  “About Sally…” The other pilot broached the topic again.

  John could see there was no escaping his friend’s unwanted counsel. “All right,” he said, giving in. Duke was going to state his opinion whether John wanted to hear it or not. He might as well listen—or pretend to.

  “Don’t get me wrong here,” Duke said, shoving his hands into his pockets as though he found this difficult. “I like Sally. Who wouldn’t? She’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The thing that concerns me is…she’s young.”

  “Not that much younger than Bethany. Or Lanni.”

  “True, only Sally’s led a more sheltered life than either of them.”

  John couldn’t argue with that. Sally had been raised in a British Columbia town with a population of less than a thousand. From what he understood, her family was a close-knit one. She’d attended a small, private high school and a church-affiliated college. When finances became too tight for her to continue her education, she’d gotten a job working in an accounting office in Vancouver. That was where she’d read Christian’s newspaper ad and applied for the job with Hard Luck Power and Light.

  “You know why she came to Hard Luck, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” John knew, and frankly he was surprised Duke did, too. After moving to Vancouver, Sally had become involved with a fast-talking man who’d ultimately broken her heart. He’d been married; she’d found out because his wife had shown up at her door.

  According to what she’d told him, Sally had walked away from the relationship feeling both heartsick and foolish. When she read about Midnight Sons offering land, housing and jobs, she’d jumped at the opportunity to start over. This time she’d do it in a small-town environment, the kind of place she was comfortable with.

  “Are you sure she’s over this other guy?” Duke asked.

  “I’m sure.” Although he made it sound like there could be no question, John wasn’t entirely convinced. He was grateful Duke didn’t challenge his response.

  “What about her family?” the other pilot asked instead.

  “What about them?” John said defensively. He didn’t much like where Duke’s questions were leading.

  “From what you’ve said, they’re the old-fashioned sort. If you’re serious about marrying their daughter, the thing to do is talk to her father first. Meet him face-to-face and tell him you love Sally and—”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” John wanted to know. “Sal’s dad lives in some dinky town on the coast. It’s not like I can leave here. Especially now.”

  Winter had set in full force. Temperatures had dipped into the minus range every day for a solid week. Whenever it fell to minus thirty, Midnight Sons had to cancel all flights. The stress to the aircraft was too great a risk.

  Snow accumulations measured forty inches or more in the past month alone. Thanksgiving was two weeks away, and there didn’t seem to be any break in the weather ahead. In a word, they were snowed in. No matter how much he wanted to meet Sally’s family, for the time being it was impossible.

  “First,” Duke said, and held up his hand. He folded down one finger. “You got a woman who’s only recently turned twenty-one, so she’s young. Younger than any of the others who’ve come to Hard Luck. Secondly—” he bent down another finger “—she moved here on the rebound, hoping to cure a broken heart.”

  “Third,” John said, fighting back his frustration, “she comes from a family who wouldn’t appreciate their daughter marrying a man they haven’t personally met and
approved.”

  “If you start out on the wrong foot with her parents, it could take years to make up for it,” Duke said. “If you truly love her—”

  “I do,” John insisted, then added in a lower voice, “I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone.”

  His friend nodded in understanding. “Then do this right. I can’t think of a single reason to rush into marriage, can you?”

  John could list any number of reasons to marry Sally that very day, but said nothing.

  “If she’s the one for you, then everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  John shrugged. He didn’t like it, but Duke had a valid point. The engagement ring could continue to wait in his pocket until he’d had a chance to square things with Sally’s father. Until he could be sure she loved him for himself—and not as an instant cure for a broken heart.

  “Daddy, I don’t feel good.” Chrissie came slowly into the kitchen, clutching her Pooh bear to her chest. The stuffed animal was a favorite from her preschool days. Now she sought it out only on rare occasions.

  Worried, Mitch slid the casserole into the oven, then pressed the back of his hand against his daughter’s forehead. She did feel warm. Her face was flushed and her eyes were unusually solemn.

  “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

  She shrugged. “I just don’t feel good.”

  “Does your tummy hurt?” There’d been lots of flu going around.

  Chrissie nodded.

  “Do you have a sore throat?”

  She bobbed her head and swallowed. “It hurts, too.”

  “You’d better let me take your temperature.”

  Her eyes flared wide. “No! I don’t want that thing in my mouth.”

  “Chrissie, it isn’t going to hurt.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want you to take my temperature. I’ll…I’ll just go to bed.”

  Mitch had forgotten how unreasonable his daughter could be when she was ill. “Don’t you feel like eating dinner?”

  “No,” she answered weakly. “I just want to go to bed. Don’t worry about me. I won’t die.”

  Mitch sighed. He didn’t know if she was being dramatic or was expressing some kind of anxiety about death. She’d known about Catherine’s funeral, and maybe that had made her think about Lori….

  “Will you tuck me in?”

  “Of course.” He followed her down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. While he pulled back her covers, Chrissie knelt on the floor and said her prayers. It seemed to take her twice as long as usual, but Mitch pretended not to notice.

  Once she was securely tucked beneath the blankets, Mitch sat on the edge of her bed and brushed the hair away from her forehead. Her face still seemed a little warm.

  “Stay with me, okay?” she asked in a voice that suggested she was fading quickly.

  Mitch reached for the Jack London story he’d been reading to her. Chrissie placed her hand on his forearm to stop him. “I want you to read the story about the Princess Bride. That’s my favorite.”

  Mitch figured he’d read the book about a thousand times. Chrissie could recite parts of it from memory, and Mitch knew he could repeat whole sections of it himself without bothering to turn the pages. Although his daughter was quite capable of reading on her own, there were certain stories she insisted he read to her.

  He picked up the book and flipped it open. He made it through the first page by merely glancing at it now and then.

  “Daddy.”

  “Yes, pumpkin?”

  “Are we going to Susan’s for Thanksgiving?”

  Mitch closed the book. “Sawyer asked this afternoon if we’d join them for dinner.” Naturally Susan would’ve said something to Chrissie. Sawyer had also let it drop that Bethany would be there, then waited for his reaction. So Mitch had smiled politely and said he looked forward to seeing her again. Actually it was true.

  “Did you tell Sawyer we’d come?”

  Mitch nodded.

  Chrissie’s eyes lit up, as if this confirmation had given her a reason to live. “I hope I won’t be sick then.” She made a show of swallowing.

  “You won’t be.”

  Mitch didn’t know what was wrong with his daughter, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t nearly as serious as she’d like him to believe. He sat with her for a few more minutes, then moved into the kitchen to check on dinner.

  “Daddy!”

  He made his way back down the hallway and stuck his head in her bedroom door. “Now what?”

  “I want Ms. Ross.”

  Mitch’s heart rate accelerated. “Why?”

  Chrissie nodded. “I just want to talk to her, all right?”

  Mitch hesitated. Of all the things he’d expected Chrissie to ask of him, Bethany wasn’t it. A game of checkers. A glass of juice. Anything but her teacher.

  “Please, oh, please, Daddy. Ms. Ross will make me feel so much better.”

  If Mitch was looking for an excuse to call Bethany, then his daughter had just offered it to him. He and Bethany hadn’t seen much of each other in the past few weeks, but she seemed to be the one avoiding him. Embarrassed by what had happened in his office during Catherine Fletcher’s service, Mitch had decided to leave her alone. He’d done enough damage.

  But it didn’t change the way he felt about her. They couldn’t be in the same vicinity without his heartbeat accelerating frantically. It had been years since he’d felt this vulnerable with a woman, and it made him nervous.

  Since their meeting at Ben’s place, they’d greeted each other cordially—nothing personal. Just noncommittal chitchat, of the kind he might have exchanged with a near stranger.

  None of that, however, was enough for Mitch to forget the feel of Bethany in his arms, Bethany’s lips on his, warm and welcoming. And so blessedly giving that he wanted to kick himself every time he thought about the way he’d treated her.

  “Daddy.” Chrissie gave him a long look. “Will you call Ms. Ross?”

  He nodded helplessly. Walking into the kitchen, he reached for the phone. Chrissie couldn’t possibly realize what she’d asked of him. Even while that thought formed in his mind, he admitted he was grateful for the excuse to call Bethany.

  He punched out the phone number and waited. Bethany answered on the second ring.

  “Hello.”

  Now that he heard her voice, he felt a moment’s panic. What could he say? He didn’t want to exaggerate and make it sound as if Chrissie was seriously ill, nor did he wish to make light of her request.

  “It’s Mitch.”

  No response.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

  “It’s no trouble.” She sounded friendly, but not overly so.

  “Chrissie seems to have come down with the flu.” Then, on a stroke of genius, he invented the reason for his call. “Did she mention not feeling well at school today?”

  “No, she didn’t say a word.” Concern was more evident in her voice than irritation.

  “It’s probably nothing more than a twenty-four-hour virus,” he said.

  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

  He’d been born under a lucky star, Mitch decided. Without his having to say a word, she’d volunteered.

  “As a matter of fact, Chrissie’s feeling pretty bad at the moment and she’s asking for you. I don’t want you to go out of your way—”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “No.” He wouldn’t hear of her walking that far in weather this cold. “I’ll come for you on the snowmobile.”

  She hesitated. “Fine. I’ll watch for you.”

  Mitch went back into Chrissie’s bedroom. “I talked to Ms. Ross.”

  “And?” Chrissie nearly fell out of the bed she was so eager to hear the outcome of the conversation.

  “She’ll come, but I didn’t want her walking over here in the cold. I’m going to pick her up on the snowmobile. You’ll be all right alone for five minu
tes, won’t you?”

  Chrissie’s eyes filled with outrage. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

  “I’m glad to know that.” If he’d actually been upset about asking Bethany to visit, he might have pointed out that someone who wasn’t a little kid anymore wouldn’t ask for her teacher.

  Mitch called out to Chrissie that he was leaving. He put on his insulated, waterproof jacket and wound a thick scarf around his neck, covering his mouth, before he stepped outside. The snowmobile was the most frequently used means of transportation in the winter months, and he kept his well-maintained. The minute he pulled up outside Bethany’s small house, her door opened and she appeared.

  She climbed onto the back of the snowmobile and positioned herself a discreet distance behind him. Nevertheless, having her this close produced a fiery warmth he couldn’t escape—didn’t want to escape.

  She didn’t say anything until they’d reached his house. He parked the snowmobile inside the garage and plugged in the heater to protect the engine.

  Once in the house they removed their winter gear. Bethany was wearing leggings and an oversize San Francisco Police Department sweatshirt; her feet were covered in heavy red woollen socks. He stared at her, taking in every detail.

  Mitch found he couldn’t speak. It was the first time they’d been alone together since the scene in his office. This sudden intimacy caught him off guard, and he wasn’t sure how to react.

  Part of him yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her again. Only this time he’d be tender, drawing out the kiss with—

  “Where’s Chrissie?” Bethany asked, mercifully breaking into his thoughts.

  “Chrissie…She’s in her bedroom.”

  The oven timer went off, and grateful for the excuse to clear his head, Mitch walked into the kitchen. He opened the oven and pulled out the ground-turkey casserole to cool on top of the stove.

  He entered his daughter’s room and discovered Bethany sitting on the bed, with Chrissie cuddled close. The child’s head rested against Bethany’s shoulder as she read from the story he’d begun himself. When Chrissie glanced up to find Mitch watching, her eyes shone with happiness.