Midnight Sons Volume 3 (26 page)

Scott was waiting for her. “We may have trouble with the weather,” he said by way of greeting.

“What kind of trouble?”

“A storm front’s headed toward us. Would you understand the meteorological details if I explained them?”

“Probably, but I’ll just take your word for it,” she said. “Are we stuck in Fairbanks?”

“Not if I can help it. I’ve been on the phone for the last thirty minutes. If we leave now, we can squeak through. Ready to go?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road.” He led her to the plane and Chrissie dutifully followed him and climbed inside, fastening the seat belt. Although she knew they were in a hurry, she was reassured that Scott took the time to go over the preflight checklist thoroughly.

It was nearly dusk when they soared into the sky, which was clear and cloudless. Those conditions, however, didn’t last. About halfway between Fairbanks and Hard Luck, they hit thick cloud cover and heavy winds, and the plane pitched and heaved. Rain and sleet lashed them from all directions, and ice started to build up on the wings. Chrissie didn’t need to be a pilot to know how dangerous that was.

Although she’d flown in every type of weather, the rough-and-tumble ride unsettled her. During one particularly bad stretch, she closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“You okay?” Scott asked.

“Uh-huh.”

Talking into his headset, Scott was busy for several minutes. “We’re going down,” he suddenly announced, his voice emotionless.

Adrenaline bolted through her. “We’re landing? Where?” It was nearly nightfall and raining. She could barely make out the landscape below.

Scott, however, was concentrating on the radio, reporting the details of where they were, and he didn’t answer her.

Chrissie clenched her hands tightly as he circled the area and slowly made his descent. By the time the lake came into view, her nerves were shot. Just as flawlessly as he’d landed the day before, Scott guided the plane onto the water’s surface and cut the engine, gliding it toward shore.

“Where are we?” she asked once her heart had stopped pounding.

Scott took off his headphones. “Lake Abbey,” he said brusquely. “We’ll wait out the storm here.”

Terrific, just terrific; he’d chosen the very lake where he’d first kissed her. The lake Sawyer O’Halloran had named after his wife.

S
COTT MANEUVERED
the plane as close to shore as possible, all the while feeling Chrissie’s glare. The woman was in a rage, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he’d created this storm, although to tell the truth, he wasn’t really complaining. It gave him the opportunity to talk to Chrissie without her dashing off.

“You did this on purpose,” she accused him. “Why don’t you just admit it?”

“If you want something to blame, I suggest you look at the weather,” Scott replied.

“The storm’s only an excuse, and you know it. We never should’ve left Fairbanks.”

She had him there, but he’d honestly believed they could slide in before the cold front hit. Rather than argue with her, he said calmly, “My family built a cabin here.” He cringed at how convenient that sounded; she already knew about the cabin, so she probably figured he’d planned this all along.

“I suppose you’re going to suggest we wait out the storm there,” she said in a scathing voice.

“Well, yes…” No wonder she doubted him, but the truth was, he
hadn’t
planned it.

“I’m well aware of your parents’ cabin,” Chrissie returned defiantly, crossing her arms.

“You’re welcome to spend the night in the plane,” he said nonchalantly. She couldn’t—he wouldn’t allow it—but she didn’t know that. He’d make his way to the cabin, build a fire, and if she hadn’t shown up by the time he finished, he’d go back for her.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Scott should have expected it. “Fine. I’m going to the cabin,” he told her, opening the aircraft door. A bone-chilling blast of Arctic wind shook him, and he gasped at the shock of it.

“I have plenty of blankets here,” she told him, sounding less sure of herself now.

“If you need anything, just holler.” He closed the door, wondering if he should drag her out of the plane right then and there. She was being ridiculous—again. But he assumed that after Chrissie had spent thirty minutes sitting in the frigid plane, her attitude would soften.

Edging along the pontoon, Scott leaped onto the shore. Luckily his boots protected his feet from the icy water. A flashlight led him toward the cabin through a night as black as he’d ever seen. Moon and stars were hidden by dark clouds, and there was no snow to provide even a tiny bit of reflection. The rain still pelted down.

He reached the cabin without incident. Scott’s parents, Sawyer and Abbey, had built the log structure about twelve
years earlier, with plenty of help from family and friends. It’d been quite a feat and required careful planning. Naturally the cabin had no modern conveniences, but it’d served as a family vacation home ever since.

As soon as he was inside, Scott lit the lantern and set it in the window, making sure the light was visible for Chrissie, in case she decided to join him. He couldn’t keep from looking out, although it was difficult to see anything more than a faint silhouette of the plane.

His next challenge was to get a fire going. Luckily everything he needed—logs, kindling and matches—had been left within easy access for just such an emergency. Once he got the wood burning, Scott checked the cupboards. Again, his family had provided an adequate supply of canned goods. He and Chrissie shouldn’t be trapped here long, four or five hours at most. The worst of the storm would pass by then, and they’d be able to land safely in Hard Luck early tomorrow morning.

He had the coffeepot brewing on the woodstove when he thought he heard a noise outside. It was probably just the wind, but in case it was Chrissie, he wanted to appear as relaxed as possible. If she happened to peek inside, he wanted her to think he didn’t have a care in the world. Throwing himself down in the big chair, he leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later his patience was gone, along with the pretense of relaxation. Chrissie was an idiot if she thought he was going to leave her in the plane while he sat, warm and cozy, inside the cabin. He grabbed his coat, determined to trudge back to the lake.

The wind was now mixed with ice and snow, and it stung his face when he opened the door. He shone the beam of light
on the narrow footpath leading to the water’s edge. Shoulders hunched against the wind and rain, he kept his gaze down. The flashlight guided his steps, illuminating the walkway a few feet at a time. Scott paused when the light fell on a pair of wet boots. Chrissie.

“I…I changed my mind,” she announced.

Scott bit off any chastisement, although he had plenty he wanted to say. Instead, he held out his hand.

She hesitated before slipping her gloved hand in his. “Thank you.”

She moved close to his side, and his arm went about her waist as he helped her to the cabin. With the wind behind them, propelling them forward, they were at the door within minutes.

The cabin was warm, comfortable and surprisingly intimate, despite its size. At first Chrissie stayed near the door, as if she feared what might happen if she advanced completely into the large open room.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Scott asked, his back to her.

“Please.”

He dared not turn around for fear she’d see the amusement in his eyes. Judging by the way she maintained her distance, she apparently expected him to ravish her any minute.

“You were able to let someone know where we are?” she asked, rubbing her hands together as she stood in front of the fire, which was now burning well. The wood crackled and flames leaped merrily, casting warmth throughout the room.

“Duke took the message.” Her lack of trust bothered him, and the situation seemed a lot less amusing.

“Good,” she said briskly.

He poured them each a steaming cup of fresh coffee. He
found sugar but no creamer; there was, however, a bottle of whiskey, and he doctored his coffee with that. Might as well get comfort where he could. She declined.

Scott sat down in the big overstuffed chair Sawyer favored. If Chrissie wanted to act like a piece of cardboard, that was fine by him, but
he
intended to relax. Despite the impression he’d given, landing the plane during the storm had been a stressful experience. “I haven’t been here in years,” he said, glancing around.

“Me…neither.”

“The last time—” He stopped abruptly the second he realized exactly when that had been. It was the summer she’d graduated from college.

“The last time you were here was with me, wasn’t it?” Chrissie asked. She sat on the sofa across from him, huddled over her cup as though it was something that required her protection. Her boots and socks were off and drying by the fireplace. She sat with her bare feet tucked beneath her.

“Seems like a lifetime ago,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He’d watched Chrissie that day and he’d remembered everything he’d spent the past few years trying to forget. Even after he’d hurt her, she’d been trusting and sweet. The teenage girl he’d left behind had matured into a woman. That afternoon had been one of the most wonderful of his life; it’d opened his eyes to what he really wanted. All this time he’d been running away—from his family, his town, the people he’d known—and until that afternoon he hadn’t realized how much he missed Chrissie, how much he needed her.

His original plan had been to fly into Hard Luck, attend the graduation party, then head out immediately afterward. His relationship with his mother and Sawyer was strained at the
time, and he hadn’t wanted to overstay his welcome. During his years away, he’d made a new life for himself, first in the military and after that, in Utah. He’d hurt his parents, embarrassed them. It seemed better for everyone involved if he kept out of their lives.

To his surprise, Sawyer and his mother had been genuinely delighted to see him, and willing to put the past behind them. He’d loved spending time with Susan, Anna and Ryan, and he’d remained in Hard Luck for ten days. His reluctance to leave, however, was due to more than his family. Scott had lingered in town because of Chrissie.

With Sawyer’s permission, he’d borrowed the Cessna, had Ben pack him a lunch and then taken off with Chrissie for an afternoon of swimming and fun. As soon as he could manage it, Scott had Chrissie back in his arms again.

The minute they’d kissed, those years apart had dissolved and it was as if he’d never left. Every time they kissed, he had another reason to stay. Every time they touched, he felt a sense of rightness. This was home. This was Chrissie, the first girl he’d ever loved, the only girl he’d ever loved….

“Are you tired?” he asked, wanting to cut off his memories before they took him into territory best left undisturbed.

“Exhausted,” Chrissie admitted, sounding more relaxed now that she’d had a warm drink.

“I’ll scrounge up some blankets from the loft.” He was anxious to do something, preferably something that required movement. Sitting around reminiscing about the one summer afternoon he most wanted to forget wouldn’t help matters. Unfortunately it was the same summer afternoon he most wanted to remember.

He straightened the ladder that went to the loft. His parents
used the upper area for storage in case bears broke into the cabin. Climbing up, he discovered that Abbey had packed everything neatly away for the winter, but it didn’t take him long to find extra bedding.

Grabbing several blankets, he carried them down for Chrissie. She’d finished her coffee and placed her mug in the sink.

“If you want, you can sleep down here on the sofa close to the fire,” he suggested.

She nodded.

“I’ll take the loft.”

She nodded again.

“Good night, Chrissie.”

“Night,” she muttered, her voice low.

Scott started up the ladder, then stopped. “Chrissie?” he asked, uncertain what had changed. Clearly something had. He heard it in her voice, although she kept her head averted and he couldn’t see her expression.

“Yes?” She sounded cheerful again.

He stepped off the rung and moved toward her. “Is everything…all right?”

Turning to face him, still in the shadows, she said, “Listen, I know I was out of line earlier. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“That’s okay.”

“You can’t control the weather.” They stood no more than a few feet apart, tension electrifying the air between them. Scott didn’t know what to make of it. Part of him wanted to shout that it was time to put aside the hurts of the past and talk honestly. He opened his mouth to say as much but saw her stiffen and knew it was useless. She wouldn’t lower the emotional barricades she’d erected against him. Nor could he
forget that there was another man in her life now. A man she visited in Fairbanks at least twice a month.

“Good night,” he said again, unnecessarily. After he’d stacked extra wood by the fireplace, he climbed the ladder to the loft.

He made up his bed, and when he lay down, he could see Chrissie below. She’d piled blankets on the sofa, then turned off the lantern. The only light in the cabin came from the flames dancing in the fireplace, throwing shadows about the room. The wind moaned outside the door. Another time the low whistle might have lulled him to sleep, but not tonight. Not with Chrissie only a few feet below…

Closing his eyes, he was beseiged by the memory of her kisses—the taste of her mouth against his, her eager response to him, the need she created in him with a single touch.

“Scott?”

Her soft voice startled him and he opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Anything would be better than this stilted politeness. “Sure, ask away.”

“Do you remember that last summer we were here?”

He almost groaned aloud. “I’m not likely to forget.”

“I wondered…” Her voice broke.

“What did you wonder, Chrissie?”

“I need to know if what Farrah said was true. Back then.
Were
you engaged to marry her?” She paused, then added, “Was it true?”

He’d been lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. He rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the
ceiling. He opened his mouth to tell her, to explain it all away—but he couldn’t. Yes, he had excuses and justifications for that day they’d spent on the lake, when he had, in fact, been engaged to another woman. He could tell Chrissie how he’d finally understood that Hard Luck was his home, that she held his heart. He’d
wanted
to tell her, but his hands had been tied. It would’ve been unfair to Farrah, and he owed her that one kindness before he broke off the engagement.

“Your silence is answer enough.”

“I don’t have any excuses, but—”

“There’s always a but, isn’t there?” Her voice had an edge he’d never heard before.

“Chrissie—”

“No, listen, it’s all right, really. I shouldn’t have asked. I knew, but I needed to hear you say it.”

At that moment he would have given anything for the ability to lie to her. But he couldn’t make himself do it. “I didn’t marry her.”

“I noticed,” she said sarcastically. “She dumped you, huh? I don’t blame her. No woman in her right mind would marry a man who—” She choked off the rest, took a moment to compose herself, then continued. “A man who gave her an engagement ring and then got involved with a high-school flame. Farrah dumped you,” she repeated, “and you deserved it.”

Scott could hardly keep himself from saying that not marrying Farrah was
his
decision—and the smartest move he’d ever made. He thanked God that he’d come to his senses in time to save them both untold heartache. They’d fallen conveniently in love, and getting married had seemed the inevitable next step. Not until he’d seen Chrissie again did he realize his mistake.

He’d wanted to tell her the truth about Farrah that summer day. He’d intended to break off the engagement once he returned to Utah and then, as soon as he was free, come back to Hard Luck and plead with Chrissie to marry him. So much for the best-laid plans. The matter of his engagement had blown up in his face when Farrah unexpectedly flew up to see him; she’d arrived with great fanfare and announced to everyone within earshot that she was his fiancée. Scott had seen the look his parents exchanged. His mother had been confused, especially after all the time he’d spent with Chrissie. Sawyer had been angry and they’d argued. Soon afterward, without a word to Chrissie, Scott had left Hard Luck.