Northern Fires (5 page)

The feel of her in his arms, the taste of her mouth, the seductive velvet of her tongue—he wanted those things again. He wanted her. And she was even more problematic than he’d anticipated. Two husbands? He had enough sense to know she’d told him that to scare him off. Damn straight, any man in his right mind would dodge that bullet. And he had yet to meet a woman who didn’t want to say what an asshole her last husband or boyfriend was. What the hell was wrong with her? Toss in that she couldn’t hold her booze and yeah—that particular combo of woman ought to screw up any guy’s wet dream. Which led him right back to his creed—women were best uncomplicated.

So, why was he sitting here doodling, her shape taking form on vellum with a piece of charcoal?

Across the room, his cell phone rang from where he’d left it on the counter. He crossed the room and answered, surprised she’d waited this long to call.

“You still up?” his mother asked without preamble. Whereas Sven was simply a night owl, Marge Sorenson was an insomniac. It had made for a lot of mother-son time when he was still living at home and they were the only two in the household still awake at 1:00 a.m. Now their late-night chats a couple of times a week were as much habit as anything.

They covered the cursory small talk. He listened with half an ear as she relayed the antics of his pops babysitting Sven’s niece that afternoon. His mother loved dissecting the minutiae of a day. She would’ve been the perfect candidate for the endless updates posted on all the social media, except his mom didn’t dig computers. Sven couldn’t say he was big into them, either.

“So, I heard Bull broke his arm and you’re working with the dinner theater production.”

Sven had been in Good Riddance for the past ten months, but his folks were practically honorary citizens. They’d missed Chrismoose last year because their first, make that only, grandchild had just been born, but other than that they didn’t miss the weeklong, annual pre-Christmas festival in Good Riddance. Chrismoose had devotees far and wide in Alaska. Long before he’d picked up work in the small town, his folks had been coming during the holiday season. His mom and Merrilee had hit it off like a house afire. He was pretty sure that was one of the reasons he’d gotten the contract on Jenna’s spa, not that his work couldn’t stand on its own merit, but… Obviously Marge and Merrilee had conversed this evening.

“I have.”

“Oh, good. That should be fun. Maybe Pops and I should come up for the play.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” The thought crossed his mind that his folks would like Juliette. Of course, short of someone being Attila the Hun, his folks pretty much liked everyone, which was probably why Sven and his brother were the same way. Never meet a stranger. Always look a person in the eye. Offer up a strong handshake. That was the Sorenson way.

“I heard that…oh, I can’t remember her name…that pretty bush pilot was out at your place tonight.” Inquisitive speculation was evident in his mom’s voice.

He wasn’t a bit surprised his mother had that information at her disposal. “She was.”

“What’s her name again?”

His mom never forgot a face, but she was terrible with names. “Juliette. Juliette Miller.”

“I see.”

Huh? She sounded as if she’d just uncovered a state secret. “You see what?”

“I see you’re interested in her.”

He glanced at the charcoal sketch of Juliette and walked over to the fridge. “And what would lead you to that conclusion?”

“You’re my chatty child.” He was a thirty-year-old man, but he didn’t bother to correct the child bit. He snagged the milk jug and drank, not bothering with a glass. “But you haven’t said a word about her. And it was the way you said her name.”

“She’s…different.” He leaned against the counter.

“Yeah?” He heard the rustling on the other end of the line and knew his mom was settling on the sofa. “Tell me about her. How’s she different?”

He rolled through Juliette’s standoffish demeanor and the fact that she was a bush pilot and drove one of the coolest trucks he’d ever seen. He left out that simply sitting near her put him in the grips of something he’d never felt before. He’d known lust, but never this…compulsion. And that wasn’t the kind of thing a guy would say to his mom.

“Where’s she from?” Marge sounded intrigued. He knew the feeling.

That was public knowledge. “Someplace in North Carolina. She lived in Anchorage while she got her pilot’s license. She was a flight attendant before that.”

“Alaska’s a long way from North Carolina. What about her family?”

Pops’s parents were fifty miles from Wasilla and Marge’s were half a block away from his folks’ place. “I don’t know.”

“She ever been married?”

He hesitated. It really wasn’t his business to tell and it was obviously something that wasn’t common knowledge or he’d have known before she told him tonight…and his mom would already have known even before him.

Marge was a sharp one. “How many times?” Apparently his hesitation had spoken volumes.

“Twice.” He waited. His mom wasn’t judgmental, but she held marriage forth as the most sacred of vows, which probably accounted for him being thirty and unwed. He’d never run across anyone he felt he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, and he’d been reared to believe that when you crossed the matrimonial threshold, that was what you were signing on for. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. The whole spiel including till death do we part. A serious commitment that required a rock-solid foundation.

“And that’s not common knowledge,” he added. He had to give his mom credit. She’d keep it to herself. Even though they were tight, Merrilee wouldn’t hear it from Marge.

“Hmm. And what is it you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. That’s why you’re such a lousy poker player.”

“I’m not a lousy poker player.” Actually, he sucked at poker, but it was still fun.

“Right. So, there’s something you’re not saying.”

His mother didn’t miss much. “It’s not my place to tell the rest, Mom.”

“Sven Sorenson, you know I won’t tell a soul if you ask me not to.”

He did know that, but she would still know and it wasn’t his story to tell. “I know that, Mom, but you’ll meet her when you come and—”

“Has she had one of those sex changes like Donna?” Donna, who ran Good Riddance’s small-engine repair business, used to be Don, back in the day.

“No. Juliette’s not transgender.”

“She was a prostitute?”

Marge was tripping. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Stripper? Not that I’m judging. A woman has to make a living.”

He couldn’t imagine Juliette on a pole. “Mom.”

“She did jail time?”

“She couldn’t hold a pilot’s license if she was a felon.”

Sven was torn. Marge wasn’t short on imagination. He’d been pushing her for years to write a book. His mother would keep filling in the blanks with wild speculation. The truth wasn’t nearly as out there as what she’d come up with.

“She’s an alcoholic.”

“Oh. Oh, dear.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that note of dismay. It kind of rubbed him the wrong way.

“She hasn’t had a drink in over three years.”

“Oh, honey. I can tell you find her interesting, but you need to just be friends.” Her tone said she’d pat him sympathetically on the head if he was standing in front of her. “You know there’d always be the chance she’d relapse and that would be hard to deal with. Worse yet, that disease is hereditary. That’s not something you’d want to wish on your kids.”

His kids? Damn, he’d only had her out to dinner. His mom was putting the cart way before the horse. Nonetheless, resentment swelled inside him on Juliette’s behalf. He understood now why she kept to herself and kept her secret just that.

5

A
BOUT
TEN
MINUTES
OUT
,
Juliette radioed for clearance and Merrilee’s voice crackled back with an affirmative.

“Almost there,” Juliette said to Logan Jeffries, her last “cargo” for the day. “I’m sure you’re ready to be home.”

Logan, Jenna’s husband, spent one week of every month in Atlanta at his family business’s headquarters. The rest of the time, he telecommuted from Good Riddance.

“Definitely. I’m ready to see my wife. Thank goodness the baby didn’t decide on an early arrival while his or her daddy was on the other side of the country.”

“How much longer is it? When’s the baby due?” There’d been a shower a couple of months ago and she’d sent a gift, but she didn’t really keep up with stuff like that.

“The middle of next month. That’s why this is the final trip for a while. I was a nervous wreck the entire time I was there.”

It was extraordinary really—Logan had been fairly reserved, maybe a tad stuffy, when he’d shown up in Good Riddance last October. She supposed it was the town and his wife’s influence that he was far more open now. The Logan Jeffries of old would’ve never confided being nervous. Actually, he would’ve never confided about anything. He was a walking, talking poster child for the transforming power of love.

They circled the small town and Juliette started to descend. “Are you enjoying the new house and adapting to the new business?” He and Jenna lived above the spa. Lots of proprietors in town lived adjacent to or above their business.

Logan smiled. “I’m glad we got into the house and she got the business rolling in the new location before the baby came. Moving was a pain, but we love the place. Sven did a great job. I hear he’s working with you on the play now. Nice guy, huh?”

“He seems very nice.”

“The first time I met him was when he plopped down in Gus’s and told Jenna they needed to decide what they were going to do in the bedroom.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t quite sure what to think.”

Juliette tamped down a moment of totally irrational jealousy. Sven was an inveterate flirt. But she could certainly see where Logan would’ve been nonplussed. “Were you worried?”

“I’ll have to say for a minute I wondered. I just couldn’t imagine any man not being half in love with Jenna.” Juliette would second that. Jenna was gorgeous and outgoing and the kind of woman you’d love to hate, if she just wasn’t so darn sweet and bighearted. “And isn’t he what you women call a hunk?”

It took Juliette a second to realize Logan was actually asking her; the question wasn’t merely rhetorical. “Um, yeah, I guess he is sort of a hunk.”

That was like saying Mount Everest was a hill. She couldn’t imagine there was a woman alive whose pulse wouldn’t pound if they simply shared breathing space with Sven Sorenson.

“I’m glad he wasn’t interested in Jenna because that would’ve been some stiff competition.”

Juliette smiled and felt a tug of wistfulness inside her. Jenna Rathburne Jeffries was so obviously head over heels in love with her husband it was both inspiring and painful to witness. “It doesn’t seem as if you have any competition where Jenna’s concerned.”

Logan’s grin verged on goofy. He was equally smitten with his wife. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool, huh? I’d say I’m about the luckiest guy on the planet.”

It’d be nice to have someone feel that way about her, but she just didn’t think those cards were in the hand she’d been dealt, so she was simply playing her own game of solitaire. And happy to do so.

Juliette brought the plane down, braked to a stop and killed the engine. “I’d say you and Jenna are both pretty lucky…and that baby.” A longing stirred inside her for the family she’d never had. Oh, she’d technically had a family, but somewhere within was the yearning for that Hallmark-card home unit, not the dysfunctional wreckage she’d grown up with. She’d just accepted, after her childhood and her subsequent disastrous marriages, that what Jenna and Logan had, with baby about to make three, simply wasn’t in the cards for her.

“Yeah, we are.” Logan opened the door and started climbing out. “Thanks for the ride,” he said with a smile as he swung his travel bag over his shoulder and set off with a long stride. “I’m going to check on my family,” he said over his shoulder. “Tell Sven I said hello.”

What? Was she the man’s messenger service now? She pasted on a smile and called out, “Will do. Give Jenna my regards, as well.” She hadn’t seen Jenna in a couple of days, but then Jenna had been wrapped up in the spa and Juliette was plenty busy with her job and the set. Flights were always up this time of year with the influx of tourists and folks coming out for fishing and backpacking.

Juliette crossed to the air terminal door and walked in. Merrilee, sitting behind her desk, looked unusually harried.

“Hi, Juliette. I swear it’ll be the first time anyone ever dies from a broken arm.”

Juliette had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. Merrilee was so seldom out of sorts, and hardly ever with Bull, but this was obviously about Bull as he was the only person in town with a broken arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I may kill him just to put us both out of our misery if he’s this kind of patient the entire time.”

Juliette simply smiled. Merrilee and Bull were devoted to one another without being sickening. Sort of like Jenna and Logan…and Nelson and Ellie…and Clint and Tessa…and Dalton and Skye…and Petey and Donna…and well, the list seemed rather endless these days. It was almost enough to give a sensible woman foolish thoughts of happy-ever-after not just being a pipe dream.

“Sorry things are so iffy,” Juliette said. “I hope Bull shapes up. Curl’s pretty busy with his taxidermy business now. Having to move into mortuary mode now would throw him for a loop.”

“You’re probably right. If Curl had to take care of a human dead body during the middle of tourist and taxidermy season, that’d throw a kink in his hosepipe. I’ll give Bull another day to pull himself out of his doldrums. I’ve suggested he collaborate with Sven, but no, he’s got to sulk. Says he’s not interested in armchair quarterbacking.” She shook her head in disgust and then waved a hand as if dismissing Bull. “How’d it go with Sven last night?”

Talk about a loaded question. Juliette, however, took it at face value. “Fine. He gets the design concept and he had a couple of good suggestions.”

Merrilee nodded, satisfaction in her smile. “I knew he would. He’s a nice guy.”

They’d covered that last night. Why was everyone suddenly intent on waxing eloquent about what a great guy Sven Sorenson was? She got it. She concurred. “Yes, he is.” And a heck of a kisser. In fact, she’d lain awake for hours reliving that kiss—still tingling, her thoughts and emotions tangling around her until the wee hours of the morning. She’d longed for the touch of his broad hands against her skin, the feel of his mouth against her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her flesh, the stroke of his tongue against her.

Mr. Isn’t-He-A-Great-Guy Sorenson had been singularly responsible for the dark circles under her eyes this morning. And that more than proved her point that it was best to walk her path alone. It was far less complicated. And she wasn’t fond of sleepless nights tossing and turning in some ridiculous fever of want brought on by one, well, technically two, kisses.

“His mom and dad booked a table for the play today. They’re coming.”

Why in the world would that set off a storm of anxiety in the pit of her stomach? On multiple fronts the man was shaking her up, both directly and indirectly.

“Oh, good. I’m…uh…I hope they enjoy it.”

“Oh, Marge and Edgar will love it. And you’ll love them. They’re good people. Marge is over the moon with her first grandbaby, Tanya—Sven’s brother, Eric, and his wife, Darnita, had a baby right before Christmas. They’re crazy about that kid.”

Couples in love…babies…families…it all seemed to be smacking her in the face suddenly. “That’s nice.”

She didn’t really know what else to say. But she was getting the picture that the Sorensons were one big happy family of love and joy and tranquillity. She’d bet her bottom dollar none of them had ever broken all the dishes in the cupboard in a drunken rage while their kid looked on.

Not that she wanted anything to do with her own dysfunctional familial unit, but people like the Sorensons always made her a little uncomfortable. It was as if they were all wearing clean white T-shirts while she had a big greasy stain smeared down the front of hers. She preferred to keep her dirty laundry to herself.

She’d thought more than once that it would’ve been nice to have parents like Merrilee and Bull. Juliette had the feeling they’d have her back if she needed them, especially Merrilee.

“Be prepared to ooh and aah over baby pictures, because Marge doesn’t go anywhere without her Nana Brag Book.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” This entire conversation made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to know Sven’s parents were named Marge and Edgar. She didn’t want to know about Eric, Darnita and their cute bundle of joy, Tanya.

She wanted Sven to remain just another person she saw in passing, just another resident who was handling the set design along with her. She didn’t want the details about his happy family. She didn’t want to be reminded that she’d never fit into that kind of dynamic. How could she, even if she wanted to? She had no experience with that.

Merrilee reached to the table situated behind her and picked up a muffin with a napkin. “Here’s a carrot-raisin-bran muffin. Eat it. I know you’re not going to have time for dinner before rehearsal.”

That was the kind of thing she loved about Merrilee. “Thanks. I think I am kind of hungry.” It had taken a while to get used to Merrilee’s mothering ways without feeling slightly smothered, but now it just felt good. Juliette simply hadn’t been used to anyone giving a damn whether or not she ate a meal or had a bed to sleep in.

She bit into the muffin. It was the perfect blend of sweet carrots, plump raisins and hearty bran. “Yum.”

“Have another one.” Merrilee was already reaching behind her.

Juliette held up her hand. “This is fine. I’d better run or I’m going to be late.”

“Enjoy your weekend off.”

“Will do.”

“Got plans?”

“I’m going to work on some wind chimes that have been knocking around in my head.”

Making chimes freed her mind and her spirit—the second-best thing to being up in the sky itself. Just her and her wind chimes and it would put Sven Sorenson firmly out of her mind because there was simply no place for Sven in her mind…or her life…and certainly not in her heart.

* * *

H
EAVINESS
WEIGHED
DOWN
Merrilee’s heart. Bull, his arm in a sling, pushed through the door and interrupted her melancholy. “Why the long face? Other than you’re aggravated with me?”

She ran her finger over her lower lip, contemplating the woman who’d just walked out the front door. “Juliette…” Merrilee shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t help but worry about her.”

Bull snagged a muffin and settled in the empty chair next to Merrilee’s desk. “Some people just keep to themselves, Merrilee. You know that by now. God knows, we see our share of them here in Alaska.”

She poured him a cup of coffee—black—and passed it to him. He nodded in appreciation, his mouth full of muffin.

“I know. And see, that’s the problem. I know how those people feel. It’s like they give off a certain energy. They really are perfectly content being an island unto themselves.” Still chewing, Bull nodded. “And I’d be fine with it if that’s the feeling I got from Juliette, but it’s not. I think that girl has surrounded herself with a thick wall of isolation to protect herself.”

“Nothing, huh?”

Juliette confounded and concerned Merrilee. “Two years she’s worked for me. From her employment application I know she’s from North Carolina. She lived in Raleigh for a while, then Anchorage. Her emergency contact is a woman named Sue Dickens in Anchorage. The only bit of personal information outside of that employment record is that her yard is full of wind chimes and whirligigs and she’s an air sign.”

“Huh?”

“An air sign. You know. She’s a Libra.”

In the middle of chasing his muffin with coffee, Bull rolled his eyes at her. Merrilee rolled her eyes back at him and forged ahead. “It makes sense. She flies, she’s into wind chimes and whirligigs, she’s a thinker… She’s an air sign.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Talking about astrology always earned an eye roll from Bull. The man was obtuse and stubborn. Merrilee had shown him how perfectly
their
signs aligned but he remained a skeptic. She didn’t dare tell him Alberta had shared her psychic matchmaking and that the traveling Gypsy had confided Sven and Juliette were meant for one another. Bull liked Alberta, but he didn’t give her psychic abilities much weight. However, much like astrology, Merrilee had found Alberta to be pretty darned on the money. Hadn’t she told Merrilee back in the day Bull was the man for her? That had certainly turned out right enough. But he’d have to convince himself; she was done trying. She moved on conversationally to less esoteric ground.

“Marge is worried. She’s afraid Juliette’s going to break Sven’s heart.”