Midnight Sons Volume 3 (25 page)

“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.

B
ETHANY
H
ARRIS
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.

The sound of the door closing propelled Bethany off the bed. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said, greeting her husband in the kitchen. She was barefoot, her eyelet cotton gown reaching nearly to the floor.

“Are the boys in bed?” he asked.

“Both of them,” she said. Jack, their youngest, was eleven. Their older son, Jeremy, attended the local high school. “Did you notice Chrissie tonight?” she asked.

“She was helping serve, remember?” Mitch reminded his wife absently. He moved into the living room, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked.

“What Chrissie was doing,” Bethany told him, “was avoiding Scott.” She knew her stepdaughter well enough to recognize that Chrissie was keeping herself occupied all evening in an effort to elude Scott—not that her plan had worked.

Mitch frowned and sank into his favorite chair in front of the television. “I thought she was over Scott. I assumed she was willing to forgive him and ready to move on.”

“I’m sure she
has
forgiven him, but…” Sitting on the arm of his chair, Bethany shrugged. “As for being over him, forget it.” Half the night she’d had to resist the urge to throw her arms around her stepdaughter and comfort her. How well she understood the doubts and uncertainties Chrissie felt; it was like seeing history repeat itself.

“I’d better have a talk with her,” Mitch said, still frowning.

“About
what?
” Bethany demanded, wondering if her husband knew something she didn’t. When it came to police matters, Mitch was closemouthed. As he should be. Bethany respected his discretion. But he sometimes kept private fears and concerns to himself, too. If he had information regarding Scott and Chrissie, she wanted to hear it.

Mitch’s gaze clouded with indecision. “I’m not keeping any secrets, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just—” He abruptly changed his mind about whatever he’d planned to say. “Actually, Chrissie may want to talk to me about Scott, and I was hoping you’d give me a few suggestions—unless, of course,
you’d
prefer to talk to her.”

“I’d gladly talk to Chrissie,” Bethany told him quietly, “if I knew what to say.”

They were both silent for a moment. “I think very highly of Scott for publicly apologizing to his family,” Mitch said. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was a generous thing to do,” Bethany agreed. Scott’s admission of his faults had taken maturity and inner strength; so had his decision to seek his family’s forgiveness, especially in a roomful of people. Part of his speech, Bethany realized, had been directed at Chrissie.

Her stepdaughter was a warmhearted woman who’d already forgiven Scott—of that much Bethany was sure. But apparently forgiveness didn’t extend to resuming their relationship.

Bethany had seen Chrissie leave the party soon after Scott’s speech, unable to hide her misery; Bethany had desperately wanted to follow her out. She sensed that Chrissie loved Scott, yet—despite her feelings—refused to take another risk on the man who’d hurt her twice.

“There’s something I never told you.” Her husband’s eyes sparked with hidden laughter. “Just before our wedding, Scott came to talk to me.”

“
Scott
did? He was what—twelve?”

“I think so. And he sounded sincere as can be.”

Bethany could only imagine what he’d had to say.

Mitch rubbed the side of his jaw. “Scott felt I needed to know you were in love with me long before I ever noticed.”

Bethany, who’d moved to sit across from her husband, knees tucked beneath her chin, lifted her head. “He didn’t!”

Mitch raised his hand. “I swear it’s true. Scott said he recognized the
look.
According to him, Abbey looked at Sawyer the same way you looked at me. He asked me if love made people act dumb because that was how his mother and Sawyer behaved. He wondered if that would happen to us.”

Pressing her forehead against her knees, Bethany couldn’t suppress a laugh.

“Apparently he didn’t approve of what his sister and Chrissie had done to get us together, either.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Then he recommended I marry you in spite of Chrissie and Susan’s matchmaking, and congratulated me on seeing through their ploys.” Her husband’s smile was delighted as he reminisced. “I could talk to Scott,” he finally suggested. “Just like he spoke to me.”

Bethany considered that, but instinctively knew Chrissie would resent her family’s intrusion. “You’ve already had a number of talks with Scott. Over the years, I mean.”

Mitch’s smile disappeared and he nodded. “He was an angry teenager, but nothing I said helped him.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Mitch leaned forward. “I’ve seen other kids like Scott. He was never vicious or even all that bad. First, there was the pain of losing his dog and then…well, this is what I started to tell you. He contacted his father when he was fifteen. He never told Abbey and Sawyer.”

“But
Sawyer’s
his father.”

“By adoption, true, but Scott had things to resolve with his birth father—and it didn’t really happen. The bastard out-and-out rejected him. His own kid!”

“You never told me this before.”

Mitch’s eyes avoided hers. “I know. He asked me to keep it confidential. But I tried to help him….”

“I think you
did
help him, although Chrissie didn’t understand that at the time.”

Mitch shook his head. “Scott hurt her the same way he hurt
himself. Now he’s back and she doesn’t trust him, and really, can you blame her?”

“No…” Still, Bethany wished a reconciliation was possible.

“Maybe you
should
talk to Chrissie.” Mitch glanced hopefully in her direction. “Maybe that would be the best approach, after all.”

“And say what?” Bethany asked.

Her husband hesitated. “I don’t know. Something inspiring. Hey—you could always ask Ben for advice. Seems to me he has a knack for knowing the right thing to say.”

In theory Mitch’s idea sounded good, but this was a delicate situation, one that required sensitive handling. Chrissie might take offense at her family’s meddling in her affairs. In fact, Bethany could amost guarantee it. Besides, knowing Ben, his solution would probably be to lock Chrissie and Scott in a room together and refuse to release them until they’d sorted everything out.

“You think we
should
ask for Ben’s opinion?” Mitch murmured.

Bethany gave a pensive shrug and laughed softly at the idea of leaving her stepdaughter’s love life in the hands of crusty, outspoken Ben—the man who also happened to be Bethany’s birth father and the reason she’d moved to Hard Luck in the first place. “I think we should let Chrissie make her own decisions. Although, I suppose, if the right opportunity presents itself…”

Mitch took a moment to mull that over. Then he nodded. “You’re right. And you never know—one of them might actually
ask
for our advice. In which case, we’ll be happy to give it. Come on,” he said, stretching his arm toward her. “It’s past my bedtime.”

C
HRISSIE AROSE EARLY
Saturday morning and dressed warmly for her bimonthly flight into Fairbanks. As she ate some toast, she filled her backpack for the weekend, then walked to the Midnight Sons landing strip. Duke Porter, her law partner’s husband, generally flew her into town. They’d gotten to be good friends over the past few months, since she’d started the mentoring program arranged through a Fairbanks social-service agency. Joelle Harmon was a twelve-year-old foster child at risk. Abandoned by her mother, father unknown, Joelle had been in six foster homes in four months, until she was accepted into the experimental group home. Chrissie had spent months building a relationship with the girl.

Her breath formed small clouds as she hurried toward the Midnight Sons office to check in for her regularly scheduled flight. It would turn bitterly cold soon enough. Within the month, snow would fall and winter would set in with such ferocity that just the thought of it sent shivers down her spine. Despite that, Chrissie loved Alaska; she’d lived here almost her entire life and couldn’t imagine settling anywhere else.

Opening the door, she stepped into the office. “Duke, I—” She stopped as soon as she realized it wasn’t Duke standing there, but Scott O’Halloran.

“Morning,” he greeted her cheerfully. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and didn’t bother to look up.

Her smile faded. “Where’s Duke?”

“Sleeping in, I assume.” Scott finally glanced up. “I’m taking the morning flight.”

Chrissie hesitated, unsure what to do.

He reached for a clipboard and headed out the door. He paused when she didn’t follow. “You coming or not?” he
asked. “I’m leaving now. I have some deliveries to make in Fairbanks.”

Chrissie figured she didn’t have any choice. She might as well get used to being around Scott, no matter how uncomfortable he made her feel.

Climbing into the plane, she was relieved when Scott immediately placed a pair of headphones over his ears. Making polite conversation would’ve been difficult, and at least he’d circumvented any requirement to do so. He ran through a flight-check list before starting the engine of the Lake LA4 amphibious plane. He could’ve been flying alone for all the attention he paid her.

Frankly, that was the way Chrissie wanted it. Yet when they soared into the endless blue skies toward Fairbanks, she found herself wishing circumstances could have been different. This wasn’t the first time she’d flown with Scott; she’d been in the air with him dozens of times. In Hard Luck planes were equivalent to cars anywhere else. More than one summer afternoon had been spent flying to nearby lakes for a refreshing swim.

The first time he’d ever kissed her had been underwater. They’d done plenty of kissing above water, too. Chrissie closed her eyes, trying not to remember.

As they approached Fairbanks, she relaxed, grateful to be close to her destination and away from the confines of the plane. Away from Scott. His landing was smooth, a “greaser” as the pilots called it, and the aircraft came down gently, touching the tarmac with barely a jolt.

“Nice landing,” Chrissie said when Scott removed the headphones.

“Thanks.”

“Will you be flying me back tomorrow afternoon?” Not that it mattered, but she wanted to know.

“My name’s on the schedule.” He unlatched the door and climbed out, his jaw noticeably tight—as though her question had angered him.

Refusing to let his mood intimidate her, Chrissie opened her own door and climbed down the wing, shaking her head at Scott’s offer of assistance. Once she was firmly on the ground, she slipped her backpack over her shoulders and straightened. “See you tomorrow, then.”

He nodded curtly.

Without another word, Chrissie turned and started toward the terminal.

“Have fun with your boyfriend,” he called after her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Boyfriend?
She couldn’t imagine where he got that idea. Chrissie thought about explaining that she was mentoring a twelve-year-old girl, then changed her mind. Perhaps it was for the best if Scott believed she was seeing another man. Not many people knew about her work with the experimental foster-care program. Her parents, of course, and Tracy. She’d briefly mentioned it to Ben’s wife, too, but none of the details; she’d only referred to visiting Joelle on a particular weekend.

This foster-care program, being tested by the state, placed school-age children in a situation similar to a boarding-school facility. Each student was assigned a volunteer mentor from the community, who spent time with the child, encouraging and listening.

Chrissie had grown to love the quiet soft-spoken child. At first it was all Chrissie could do to get the painfully shy girl to speak above a whisper. Gradually, thanks to the support of the group home and the trust Chrissie had built, Joelle grew more
confident. Chrissie hardly recognized the child she’d first met in the smiling chattering girl Joelle had become.

“I leave at four o’clock sharp,” Scott shouted.

“I’ll be here,” Chrissie responded, tossing the words over her shoulder.

“See that you are,” he snapped, “or I’ll leave without you.”

His parting shot annoyed her, and she jerked open the heavy glass door leading to the terminal. Her frown changed to a smile as Joelle ran toward her. “Chrissie, Chrissie!” the girl shouted. “Guess what? I got an A on my essay for English!”

Chrissie enveloped the girl in a hug as a surge of joy and triumph rushed through her. Joelle had come so far, and Chrissie couldn’t help feeling a personal pride in the progress she’d made. Every accomplishment was significant; every accomplishment took her further from her disadvantaged past and toward a hopeful future.

“Oh, Joelle, I’m
so
proud of you.” Those simple words, spoken with heartfelt sincerity, brought a huge smile to the girl’s face.

“I’ve got a busy weekend planned for us,” Chrissie told her.

Joelle wrapped an arm around Chrissie’s waist. “I brought my paper if you want to read it.”

“You bet I do,” she told her, and they walked out of the terminal together.

F
OUR O’CLOCK
S
UNDAY
afternoon, as promised, Chrissie was back at the airport. After two days with Joelle, she was exhausted. A friend who worked as a flight attendant for one of the airlines let Chrissie use her apartment. The arrangement worked well for them both. Jackie usually had weekend assignments, and whenever she was on duty, Chrissie watered her plants and looked after the place.