Midnight Sons Volume 3 (23 page)

A
BBEY
O’H
ALLORAN
was ecstatic. As she shelved books at the Hard Luck library, she reflected on the reason for her happiness. She’d been waiting a long time for this day. Her son was home. Years ago, divorced and raising two children alone, she’d moved to Hard Luck and, after a whirlwind courtship, had married Sawyer O’Halloran. They had a good marriage and had added Ryan and Anna, now seventeen and nineteen respectively, to their family. Sawyer had adopted Scott and Susan, and loved and nurtured her children as his own. Scott, however, had gone through a difficult period of teenage rebellion that had left Abbey and Sawyer at a loss.

It’d all started his last year of high school, when he had a couple of minor run-ins with Mitch Harris, the sheriff and Chrissie’s father. Mitch assured Sawyer and Abbey that Scott wasn’t a bad boy and the pranks he’d pulled were typical of many teenagers. Skipping school and painting graffiti on the
community-center wall were small infractions, ones Abbey had been willing to overlook. What she couldn’t excuse was Scott’s lack of respect for Sawyer. Her husband had been nothing but warm and loving to both Scott and Susan. Scott, though, had become an increasingly angry young man, and he’d vented that anger against Sawyer. Abbey had never understood why her son seemed so resentful, why he’d felt such rage. His unpleasant behavior had escalated during his high-school years and later, too, when Scott had briefly worked for Midnight Sons. Although Sawyer had never complained, Abbey knew he’d been deeply hurt by the things Scott had said and done.

Then one day, without a word to anyone, Scott had enlisted in the army. Not that Abbey or Sawyer would have objected. By this point it was obvious that Scott had problems he needed to resolve. As his mother, she’d longed to help him deal with his past, yearned to answer his doubts, but she couldn’t help what she didn’t understand. Watching Scott fly out of Hard Luck for boot camp was, without question, one of the most difficult moments she’d ever experienced.

She’d known someday he’d return. She just hadn’t known when that day would come. And now…it finally had.

The library door opened and Sawyer walked in. Even after all these years of marriage, she felt a rush of joy at the sight of him. His hair had started to gray and the laugh lines around his eyes were more pronounced, but he was as handsome and vital as when they’d first met.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see him.

“Hey, I’ve got a library card.”

His eyes held a warm teasing light and she smiled in response. She loved this man and had borne him two children. They’d made a good life together in Hard Luck and looked
forward to when they could officially retire and travel, the way they’d planned. As Sawyer often reminded her, there was an entire world for them to explore. But no matter where they went, Alaska would always be home.

“I thought you were with Scott.” She placed the latest Janet Evanovich mystery back on the shelf, then turned and kissed her husband.

“Hey, what’s that for?”

“I’m just so happy I can barely hold it inside. Scott’s home! And this time it’s for good.”

Sawyer grinned with equal delight. “He’s grown up, Abbey.”

“I know.”

“The years away have had a positive effect. He’s lost all that anger. He’s made peace with himself and he’s ready to step into the business.” Sawyer moved toward her desk and perched on the corner. “Did you hear he’s found a place to rent?”

“Already?” Abbey couldn’t help being disappointed. She’d hoped to fuss over her son for the first couple of weeks.

“He wants to make his own way, and I can’t say I blame him,” Sawyer said in Scott’s defense. “Matt and Karen are renting him one of the cabins they renovated this summer.” Their good friends, the Caldwells, owned and operated Hard Luck Lodge; they’d always been fond of Scott. Their primary business was providing accommodation for the tourists who flew in with Arctic Experiences, the tour company run by Matt and their son-in-law, Ron Gold.

Now that Abbey thought about it, one of those cabins was ideal. There was also a touch of irony attached to it. She’d come here in response to an advertisement offering jobs to women willing to move to Hard Luck, fifty miles north of the
Arctic Circle. Hoping to attract qualified applicants, Midnight Sons had included a cabin and twenty acres of land. What the brothers hadn’t bothered to disclose was that the cabins were dilapidated one-room shacks, desperately in need of repair. If
that
wasn’t insult enough, the twenty acres they’d so generously thrown in were nowhere near Hard Luck or the cabins. For the most part they were only accessible by air.

“Matt’s done a good job with those cabins,” Sawyer remarked.

Abbey agreed. The original shacks were torn down years ago and larger, better-equipped cabins had been built. The Caldwells had begun an extensive process of renovation and Scott would be renting one of the newly upgraded cabins.

“Scott’s had a busy afternoon,” Sawyer continued. “He was in to see Tracy about having the papers drawn up.”

“Not Chrissie?” Abbey asked.

Sawyer shook his head. “Apparently not. My guess is, he knows he’s got some fences to mend.”

Abbey nodded slowly. As Scott’s mother she could think of no better wife for her son than Chrissie Harris. Although Scott had never discussed his feelings for Chrissie, Abbey knew he’d loved her as a teenager, and she strongly suspected he loved her still.

That morning when he’d arrived, Abbey noticed the way Scott’s gaze had moved over the crowd gathered to greet him. He’d been searching for Chrissie; she was sure of it. And practically the first stop he’d made in town was the attorneys’ office. Yes, there were some legal papers to be drawn up, but there certainly wasn’t any rush.

“Abbey?”

She glanced up to find her husband watching her.

“You’ve got that look in your eye.”

Abbey played dumb. “What look?”

“The one that tells me you’re up to no good.”

She frowned with indignation. “You haven’t got a clue what I’m thinking, Sawyer O’Halloran.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” her husband challenged, leaving her desk to sink into an overstuffed chair. Abbey sat on the chair arm beside him. “I do know what you’re thinking,” he told her. “You’re thinking about Scott and Chrissie.”

Abbey considered arguing with him, but he was right and he knew it. “Don’t you remember how badly Scott wanted us to get married?” she asked, the years rolling away with the memory. Sawyer had originally proposed for what Abbey believed to be all the wrong reasons. It’d nearly broken her heart to turn him down, but with one failed marriage behind her, she couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. She’d already fallen in love with him, but his proposal had been motivated more by his fear that someone else might ask her first. Or so it had seemed to her. Loving him the way she did, afraid he didn’t really love her, she’d felt the only sensible option was to protect her family—and her emotions. She’d decided to leave Hard Luck. Then Scott and Susan had disappeared. Abbey had never known such panic as she’d felt that night.

Her husband reached for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “If not for Scott and Susan running away, I might have lost you. I was crazy about you then and I’m even crazier about you now.”

Abbey pressed her head to his shoulder, savoring the feel of his arms around her.

“Only, back then I didn’t know how to tell you,” Sawyer said, the frustration and anguish of that night evident even after all these years. “I didn’t know how to persuade you to stay.”

Abbey kept her head against her husband’s shoulder. “Now Scott needs our help,” she whispered.

“With Chrissie?”

Abbey nodded. “I’m afraid he’s more like you than you realize. He loves Chrissie, but he’s not sure what to do.”

“Are you suggesting I give him advice?” Sawyer asked, looking aghast at the prospect.

Abbey giggled. “Hardly. The situation calls for diplomacy.”

Her husband’s frown cut deep grooves in his forehead. “Like what?” he asked warily. “And please note that I’m ignoring the slur on my diplomatic abilities.”

Abbey smiled. “Let’s hold a welcome-home party for him. Next Friday—a week from tonight. We have a lot to celebrate, don’t you think?”

“We do indeed.” Sawyer’s face relaxed. “And there’s a certain someone you’re going to invite, isn’t there?”

“Shh.” Abbey brought her index finger to her lips. “I don’t want to be obvious about it.”

“Right,” Sawyer said, sounding amused. “We wouldn’t want to be obvious.”

“We’ll make it a surprise party.”

“A surprise party?” Sawyer echoed. “But who do you intend to surprise? Scott or Chrissie?”

I
T WAS ALMOST FOUR-THIRTY
when Scott walked into the Hard Luck Café—too early for the dinner crowd. The restaurant hadn’t changed much over the years, and neither had Ben. To Scott’s eyes, Ben Hamilton had aged barely a year in
the past ten. He was in his sixties now, his hair a little thinner on top but his welcoming smile as warm as always.

“Scott!” Ben greeted him with unconcealed delight. “Hey, boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

The two men exchanged hearty handshakes and then impulsively hugged.

“So you’re moving back to Hard Luck?” Ben asked.

“I am,” Scott confirmed, and slid onto a stool at the counter. He picked up a menu, although he wasn’t planning to order a meal. The menu was a lot more professional-looking than it used to be with its smudged type and cracked plastic coating. But fancy menus or not, the Hard Luck Café had been his favorite restaurant for years, and in his time away he hadn’t found any he liked better.

“We got salmon on special. Mary poaches it in a lemon sauce that’s out of this world.” Ben kissed his fingertips extravagantly as he spoke.

In the old days, Ben had served everything loaded down with fat and extra calories. No more; his wife, Mary, had seen to that. Healthy food choices had started appearing on the menu when Ben married her, although the changes had been surprisingly subtle.

“Salmon sounds good, but Mom’s cooking me a feast.” He closed the menu and tucked it behind the sugar canister. Ben automatically poured him a mug of coffee.

“So I hear you’re going to be flying with your dad and Christian.”

“I am.” His hands cupped the mug. Scott had earned his pilot’s license when he was sixteen. Whereas most teens hungered for their driver’s license, Scott had been far more interested in learning to fly. After his stint in the army, he’d
worked for a flight service out of Utah, flying tourists over the Canyonlands. He’d been content, enjoying his freedom and earning decent money. He’d had friends, lots of them, and a number of women he saw on a regular basis—but these relationships were all casual, without depth or commitment. He’d also been engaged once, but that had turned into a spectacular mess, and he hadn’t repeated the experience. Then, a month ago, he’d suddenly realized he’d been running away from what he wanted most, and that was his home and family. He missed Alaska, regretted the anger of his youth and the pain he’d brought his parents. It was time to make amends.

And then there was Chrissie.

He smiled thinking about their encounter that morning. When he announced that he’d merely come for legal advice, she’d looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole. He’d managed not to laugh then but couldn’t restrain his amusement now. He chuckled, replaying the scene in his mind.

“Did I miss something funny?” Ben asked, sidling up to the counter and leaning against it just as he had for so many years.

“Not really,” Scott told him. “Just something that happened this morning, soon after I got here.”

“Oh.”

Scott had stopped by Chrissie’s office on business, but he was willing to admit there was more to it than that. He’d wanted to see her and, in fact, had been anticipating their meeting for weeks.

Chrissie was one of the reasons he’d stayed away from Hard Luck and one of the reasons he’d come home.

“Seems just like the old days seeing you again,” Ben said.

“The old days,” Scott repeated. Back then, the Hard Luck Café had been the gathering place for the entire community.
The men, in particular, used to meet at Ben’s. Not only that, many people in the community, if not most, had come to Ben at one time or another to talk through their problems. Scott suspected they continued to do so.

“Remember that frequent-eater program?” Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Ben answered with a grin. It was a short-lived program. “Don’t need gimmicks like that,” he said. “I got more business than I know what to do with.”

Scott nodded; he wasn’t surprised that Ben’s remained popular. He knew that in the last ten years a couple of other restaurants had opened, but the Hard Luck Café was—and deserved to be—everyone’s favorite. Ben was officially retired; however, he couldn’t quite keep his hands out of the business.

“I remember you as a youngster, sitting on one of those stools,” Ben said with genuine fondness. “Only seems right to see you here now.”

“It used to be I could talk to you about anything,” Scott recalled.

“Still can, if you’ve got a hankering,” Ben assured him.

Scott was tempted. Many a time he’d discussed his problems with Ben Hamilton. Many a time he’d felt as if the world was against him. Few people knew that Ben was the one who’d suggested Scott consider enlisting in the military. A former navy man, he’d been disappointed when Scott chose the army. But not as disappointed as Sawyer that he hadn’t decided on the air force.

Back then, Scott had been downright contrary. Angry, too, only he didn’t know why or at what. Eventually he’d recognized that it wasn’t Sawyer he hated. Scott knew he’d been old enough at the time of his parents’ separation to be aware of his biological father’s rejection and to be seriously
hurt by it, to wonder if he was somehow to blame. The teen years had become increasingly difficult, especially when he’d secretly contacted his father at fifteen—and been rejected a second time. Then Eagle Catcher, his husky, had died. The grief he’d felt over the loss of his dog had deepened his anger. Hardly understanding himself, he’d lashed out at those he loved most. The things he’d said and done embarrassed him now.