Читать книгу Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk - Debbie Macomber - Страница 13

Three

“Your children?” Sawyer repeated.

“Yes,” Abbey said. It was easy to see the family resemblance between Sawyer and Christian O’Halloran, she thought. Both were tall and lean and rawboned. If he’d lived a hundred years earlier, he could’ve been on horseback, riding across some now-forgotten range in the Old West. Instead, he was flying over a large expanse of wilderness, from one fringe of civilization to another.

Whereas Christian had been clean-shaven, Sawyer had a beard. The dark hair suited his face. His eyes were a pale shade of gray-blue, not unlike those of a husky, Scott’s favorite dog. He wore a red-checked flannel shirt under a jacket marked with the Midnight Sons logo. She suspected he had no idea how attractive he was.

“Hi,” Scott said eagerly, looking up at Sawyer.

The pilot held out his hand and she noticed that his eyes softened as he exchanged handshakes with her son. “Pleased to meet you, Scott.”

“Alaska sure is big.”

“That it is. Hello, Susan,” Sawyer said next, holding out his hand to her daughter. The girl solemnly shook it, then glanced at Abbey and smiled, clearly delighted with this gesture of grown-up respect.

“Could we speak privately, Ms. Sutherland?” Sawyer asked. The warmth and welcome vanished from his eyes as he motioned toward the waiting area. He walked just far enough away so the children couldn’t hear him. Abbey followed, keeping a close eye on Scott and Susan.

“Christian didn’t mention that you have children,” Sawyer said without preamble.

“He didn’t ask. And there was no reference to family on the application or the agreement Christian sent me. I did think it was a bit odd not to inquire about my circumstances, considering that you’re providing housing.”

“You might’ve said something.” An accusatory look tightened his mouth.

“I didn’t get a chance,” she explained in even tones. His attitude was beginning to irritate her. “I did try, but he was busy, and I really didn’t think it would matter.”

“There’s nothing in the agreement about children.”

“I’m aware of that,” Abbey said, striving to keep the emotion out of her voice. “As I already told you, I filled out the application and answered every question, and there wasn’t a single one about dependants. Frankly, I don’t think they’re anyone’s concern but mine. I was hired as a librarian. And as long as I do my job, I—”

“That’s right, but—”

“I really can’t see that it matters whether or not I have a family to support.”

“What about your husband?”

“I’m divorced. Listen, would you mind if we discussed this another time? The children and I are exhausted. We landed in Anchorage late last night and were up early this morning to catch the connecting flight to Fairbanks. Would it be too much to ask that we wait for a more opportune moment to sort this out?”

He hesitated, then said in crisp tones, “No problem.”

The pulse in his temple throbbed visibly, and Abbey suspected that it was, in fact, very much of a problem.

“I brought the Baron,” he said, directing the three of them toward the luggage carousel. “All I can say is I hope you packed light.”

Abbey wasn’t sure how she was supposed to interpret “packed light.” Everything she and the children owned that would fit was crammed into their suitcases. Everything that hadn’t gone into their luggage had been sold, given away or handed over to a shipping company and would arrive within the month. She hoped.

“Look, Mom,” Scott said, pointing at the wall where a variety of stuffed animals were displayed. Abbey shuddered, but her son’s eyes remained fixed on the head of a huge brown bear. Its teeth were bared threateningly.

“That silly bear stuck his head right through the wall,” Sawyer joked.

Scott laughed, but Susan stared hard as if that just might be possible.

When they’d collected all the luggage, Sawyer stepped back, frowning. “You brought six suitcases.”

“Yes, I know,” Abbey said calmly. “We needed six suitcases.”

“I don’t have room for all those in the plane. I’m not even sure how I’m going to get you, two kids, the mail and the rest of the cargo inside, much less enough luggage to sink a battleship. If you’d let me know, I could’ve brought a larger plane.”

Abbey bit back a sarcastic reply. She’d tried to tell Christian about her children, but he’d been too interested in his dinner date to listen to her. She hadn’t purposely hidden anything from him or Sawyer. And, good grief, how was she supposed to know how much luggage some airplane would hold?

“Never mind,” Sawyer grumbled impatiently, “I’ll figure it out later. Let’s get going.”

Abbey would’ve liked something to eat, but it was clear Sawyer was anxious to be on his way. Fortunately Scott and Susan, unlike their mother, had gobbled down what the airline laughably called a meal.

They loaded everything into the bed of a pickup and drove around the airport to a back road, which took them to an area used by various flight service operators.

“All that stuff belongs to Mom and Susan,” Scott whispered conspiratorially as Sawyer helped him out of the cab. “They’re the ones who insisted on bringing everything.”

“Sounds just like a couple of women,” Sawyer muttered. He led them to the plane.

Abbey wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this compact dual-engine aircraft wasn’t it. She peeked inside and realized that what Sawyer had said was true. There was barely room for her, let alone the children and all their luggage.

“There’s only three seats,” she said, looking nervously at Sawyer. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out that three seats wasn’t enough for four people.

“You’ll have to sit on my desk—the seat beside mine,” Sawyer instructed after climbing aboard the aircraft. “And I’ll buckle the kids together on the other seat.”

“Is that legal?”

“Probably not in the lower forty-eight,” he told her, “but we do it here. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.” He moved toward the cockpit, retrieved a black binder and a stack of papers from the passenger seat and crammed them into the space between the two seats.

“Go on in and sit down,” he said, “while I see to the kids.”

Abbey climbed awkwardly inside and carefully edged her way forward. By the time she fastened the seat belt, she was breathless.

Sawyer settled Scott and Susan in the remaining seat behind her. One look at her children told Abbey neither was pleased with the arrangement. But it couldn’t be avoided.

“What about our luggage?” she asked when Sawyer slipped into the seat next to her.

He placed earphones over his head, then reached for the binder and made a notation in it.

“Our luggage?” she repeated.

“The suitcases don’t fit. We’re going to have to leave them behind.”

“What?” Abbey cried. “We can’t do that!”

Sawyer ignored her and continued to ready the plane for takeoff.

“How long is the flight?” Scott asked.

“About an hour.”

“Can I fly the plane?”

“Not this time,” Sawyer responded absently.

“Later can I?”

“We’ll see.”

“Mr. O’Halloran,” Abbey said with a heavy sigh, “could we please discuss the luggage situation?”

“No. My contract is to deliver the mail. That’s far more important. I’m not going to unload cargo for a bunch of silly female things you aren’t going to need, anyway.”

Abbey gritted her teeth. “I didn’t bring silly female things. Now if you’d kindly—”

Sawyer turned around and looked at Scott. “Do you like dogs?”

Scott’s eyes grew huge. “You bet I do,” he answered breathlessly.

Sawyer adjusted some switches. “When we get to Hard Luck, I’ll take you over to meet Eagle Catcher.”

“Is he a husky?”

“Yup.”

“Really?” Scott sounded as if he’d died and gone to heaven. He was so excited it was a wonder he didn’t bounce right out of the seat.

“Um, about our luggage?” Abbey hated to be a pest, but she didn’t like being ignored, either. It might be unimportant to Buck Rogers here, but she’d rather they arrived in Hard Luck with something more than the clothes on their backs.

He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he started the engines and chatted in friendly tones with a man in the control tower. Come to think of it, he chatted in friendly tones with everyone but her.

Before Abbey could protest further, they were taxiing toward the runway.

In no time they were in the air. Above the roar of the twin engines, Abbey could hear nothing except the pounding of her heart. She’d never flown in a plane this small, and she closed her eyes and held on tightly as it pitched and heaved its way into the clear blue sky.

“Wow!” Scott shouted. “This is fun.”

Abbey didn’t share his reaction. Her stomach did a flip-flop as the plane banked sharply to one side. She braced her hands against the seat, muttering, “Come on! Straighten up and fly right, can’t you?”

Still talking to the tower, Sawyer glanced at her and grinned. “Relax,” he said. “I haven’t been forced to crash-land in two or three months now.”

“In other words, I haven’t got a thing to worry about.” Abbey shouted to be heard above the engines. She peeked over her shoulder to be sure Scott and Susan weren’t frightened. They weren’t—quite the opposite. They smiled at her, thrilled with their first small-plane ride. She, on the other hand, preferred airplanes that came equipped with flight attendants.

Abbey wasn’t able to make out much of the landscape below. She’d been disappointed earlier; during the flight from Anchorage to Fairbanks, Mount McKinley had been obscured by clouds. The pilot had announced that the highest mountain in North America was visible less than twenty percent of the time. He’d joked that perhaps it wasn’t really there at all.

She glanced away from the window and back at Sawyer. He’d already demonstrated a fairly flexible attitude to safety rules, in her view. Now he took out the black binder he’d wedged between their seats and began to write. Abbey stared at him. Not once did his eyes shift from his task, whatever it was.

A light blinked repeatedly on the dashboard. Abbey knew nothing about small planes, but she figured if a light was blinking, there had to be a reason. They must be losing oil or gas or altitude or something.

When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she gripped his arm and pointed to the light.

“Yes?” He looked at her blankly.

She didn’t want to shout for fear of alarming her children, so she leaned her head as close to his as possible and said in a reasonable voice, “There’s a light flashing.”

“Yes, I see.” He continued writing.

“Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“In a couple of minutes.”

“I’d rather you took care of it now.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ms. Sutherland—Abbey,” he said. Lines crinkled around his eyes, and he almost seemed to enjoy her discomfort. “All it indicates is that I’m on automatic pilot.”

She felt like a fool. Crossing her arms, she wrapped what remained of her dignity about her and gazed out the window.

Sawyer tapped her on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about your luggage, either. I’ve arranged with another flight service to have it delivered this afternoon.”

He might have told her sooner, instead of leaving her to worry. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“What’s that?” Scott shouted from behind her.

Abbey looked down to discover a streak of silver that stretched as far as the eye could see.

“That’s the Alaska pipeline,” Sawyer told Scott.

From the research she’d done on Alaska, Abbey knew that the pipeline traversed eight hundred miles of rugged mountain ranges, rivers and harsh terrain. It ran from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, the northernmost ice-free port in North America.

Soon Abbey noticed that the plane was descending. She studied the landscape, trying to spot Hard Luck, excited about seeing the community that would be her home. She saw a row of buildings along one unpaved street, with a large structure set off to the side. Several other buildings were scattered about. She tried to count the houses and got to twenty before the plane lined up with the runway for its final descent.

As they drew close, Abbey realized the field wasn’t paved, either. They were landing on what resembled a wide gravel road. She held her breath and braced herself as the wheels touched down, sure they’d hit hard against the rough ground. To her surprise, the landing was as smooth as any she’d experienced.

Sawyer cut the engine speed and taxied toward a mobile structure near the far end of the field. Abbey strained to see what she could out of the narrow side window. She smiled when she recognized a telephone booth. In the middle of the Arctic, at the very top of the world, it was comforting to know she could call home.

A burly man who resembled a lumberjack barreled out of the mobile structure. Abbey lost sight of him, then heard the door on the side of the aircraft open.

“Howdy,” he called, sticking his head and upper shoulders inside. “Welcome to Hard Luck. I’m John Henderson.”

“Hello,” Abbey called back.

John disappeared abruptly to be replaced by the head and shoulders of another outdoorsy-looking man. “I’m Ralph Ferris,” he said. Three other faces crowded in around the opening.

“For crying out loud,” Sawyer snapped, “would you guys let the passengers out of the plane first? This is ridiculous.” He squeezed past her, unsnapped the seat belt secured around Scott and Susan and helped them out.

Abbey was the last person to disembark. As she moved down the three steps, she found all five men standing at attention, as if prepared for a military inspection. Their arms hung straight at their sides, their shoulders were squared, spines straight. If any of them were surprised to see two children, it didn’t show.

Muttering to himself, Sawyer stalked past Abbey and into the mobile office, leaving her alone with her children. He slammed the door, apparently eager to be rid of them.

Abbey felt irritation swirl through her. How could he just abandon her? How could he be so rude? What had she done that was so terrible? Well, she could be rude, too!

“Welcome to Hard Luck.” Her angry thoughts were swept aside as a tall, thin older woman with gray hair cut boyishly short stepped forward to greet her. “I’m Pearl Inman,” she said, shaking Abbey’s hand enthusiastically. “I can’t tell you how pleased we are to have a librarian in Hard Luck.”

“Thank you. These are my children, Scott and Susan. We’re happy to be here.” Abbey noted that Pearl seemed as unsurprised by the arrival of two children as the pilots were.

“You must be exhausted.”

“We’re fine,” Abbey said politely, which was true; she felt a resurgence of energy.

“You got any other kids in this town?” Scott asked.

“Are there any girls my age?” Susan added.

“My heavens, yes. We had twenty-five students last year. I’ll have one of the boys introduce you around later, Scott.” She turned her attention to Susan. “How old are you?”

“Seven.”

Pearl’s smile deepened. “I believe Chrissie Harris is seven. Her father works for the Parks Department and serves as our PSO on the side. PSO stands for public safety officer—sort of our policeman. Chrissie will be mighty glad to have a new friend.”

“What about me?” Scott asked. “I’m nine.”

“Ronny Gold’s about that age. You’ll meet him later. He’s got a bike and likes to ride all over town on it, so there’s no missing him.”

Scott seemed appeased. “Are there any Indians around here?” he asked next.

“A few live in the area—Athabascans. You’ll meet them sometime,” Pearl assured him.

Looking around, Abbey felt a large mosquito land on her arm. She swatted it away. Susan had already received one bite and was swatting at another mosquito.

“I see you’ve been introduced to the Alaska state bird, the mosquito,” Pearl said, then chuckled. “They’re pretty thick around here in June and July. A little bug spray works wonders.”

“I’ll get some later,” Abbey said. She hadn’t realized mosquitoes were such a problem in Alaska.

“Come on—let’s go to the restaurant and I’ll introduce you to Ben and the others,” Pearl said, urging them across the road toward a building that resembled a house with a big porch. A huge pair of moose antlers adorned the front. “This is the Hard Luck Café. Ben Hamilton’s the owner, and he’s been cooking up a storm all day. I sure hope you’re hungry.”

Abbey grinned broadly. “I could eat a moose.”

“Good,” Pearl said, grinning back. “I do believe it’s on the menu.”

* * *

Children.

Sawyer had no one to blame but himself for not knowing that Abbey came as a package deal. He was the person who’d so carefully drawn up the application. Obviously he’d forgotten to include one small but vital question. He’d left one little loophole. If Abbey had arrived with kids, would other women bring them, too? It was a question he didn’t even want to consider.

Children.

He poured himself a mug of coffee from the office pot and took a swallow. It burned his mouth and throat, but he was too preoccupied to care. He had to figure out what they were going to do about Abbey Sutherland and her kids.

It wasn’t that he objected to Scott and Susan. Abbey was right; her children had nothing to do with her ability to hold down the job of librarian. But they were complications the town hadn’t foreseen.

First, the three of them couldn’t live in that cabin. The entire space was no bigger than a large bedroom. Those cabins had never been intended as permanent living quarters, anyway. Sawyer remembered that initially he’d tried to reason with Christian and the others, but no one would listen, and he’d ended up taking the path of least resistance. He’d even helped clean the cabins!

In fact, he had to admit he’d become caught up with the idea himself. It had seemed like a simple solution to a complex problem. You’d think a group of men, all of whom were over thirty, would have the brains to know better.

Sawyer could only imagine what his older brother would say when he found out what they’d done. Charles would be spitting nails.

Sawyer passed his hand over his eyes and sighed deeply. He didn’t understand what would bring a woman like Abbey Sutherland to Hard Luck in the first place. She wouldn’t last, and he’d known it the moment he laid eyes on her.

It occurred to him that she might be running away. From her ex-husband? Perhaps she’d gotten involved in an abusive relationship. His hands formed tight fists at the thought of her husband mistreating her—at the thought of any man mistreating any woman.

Sawyer had seen for himself the dull pain in her eyes when she said she was divorced. He just wasn’t sure why it was there. Understanding women wasn’t his forte, and he felt himself at a real disadvantage. He lacked the experience, but he liked to think he was generally a good judge of character.

Then again, maybe he wasn’t. There’d been only one serious relationship in his life, and that hadn’t lasted long. Just when he was feeling comfortable with the way things were going, Loreen had started hinting at marriage. Soon those hints had become ultimatums. He’d liked Loreen just fine, but he wasn’t anywhere close to marriage. Once he’d told her that, she left him.

Sawyer assumed that was how a lot of women felt. They wanted a ring to make everything official and complete. Well, he’d seen what could happen when a couple fell out of love. His parents were the perfect example of the kind of relationship he didn’t want. They’d been chained to faded dreams and unhappy memories. So Sawyer had let Loreen go, and try as he might he hadn’t once regretted his decision.

Sawyer didn’t know how he was going to handle the problem of Abbey and her family. What he should do was put her and those two kids of hers on the afternoon flight out of Hard Luck.

But he wouldn’t. Because if he even suggested it, twenty men would happily lynch him from the nearest tree. Of course, they’d have to go more than two hundred miles to find a tree tall enough for the job....

After he finished his coffee, Sawyer headed over to the café. It seemed half the town was there, eager to meet Abbey. There was no place to sit, so he stood, arms folded and one foot braced against the wall, hoping to give the impression that he was relaxed and at ease.

Ben, he noted, was pleased as a pig in...mud to be doing such a brisk business. The cook wove his way between the mismatched tables, refilling coffee cups and making animated conversation.

He lifted the glass pot toward Sawyer with a questioning look.

Sawyer shook his head. He sure didn’t need another coffee. In fact, he shouldn’t have had the last one.

He saw that Abbey was surrounded by four of his pilots. They circled the table where she sat with Pearl and her children, like buzzards closing in on a fresh kill. You’d think they’d never seen a woman before.

His crew was a mangy-looking bunch, Sawyer mused, with the exception of Duke, who was broad-shouldered and firm-muscled. One thing he could say about all of them was that they were excellent pilots. Lazy SOBs when the mood struck them, though. He didn’t know anyone who could love flying as much as a bush pilot and still come up with the world’s most inventive excuses to avoid duty.

Everyone plied Abbey with questions. Sawyer half expected all this attention to fluster her, but she handled their inquisition with graceful ease. He was astonished by how quickly she’d picked up on names and matched them to faces.

Ben sauntered over to his side. His gaze followed Sawyer’s. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Ben said. “I wouldn’t mind marrying her myself.”

“You’re joking.” Sawyer’s eyes narrowed as he studied his longtime friend.

Ben’s heavy shoulders shook with silent laughter. “So that’s the way it is.”

“Which way is that?” Sawyer challenged.

“She’s already got you hooked. In no time, you’ll be just like all the others, fighting for the pleasure of her company.”

Sawyer snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous! I just hope we don’t have any more women arriving with families in tow.”

Ben’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t know about the kids?”

“Nope. Christian didn’t, either, from what she said. Ms. Sutherland claims she didn’t get a chance to tell him.”

“Well, no one’ll have a problem with a couple more kids in Hard Luck,” Ben commented.

“That’s not the point.”

Ben frowned. “Then what is?”

“The cabins. Abbey can’t live in one of those cabins with her children.”

Ben leaned against the wall with Sawyer. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what are you going to do?”

“No idea.” Sawyer shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “It isn’t like there’s a house available for us to rent.”

“Catherine Fletcher’s place is vacant.”

Sawyer shook his head. He wouldn’t even consider approaching Catherine’s family, and he doubted his brothers would be willing to do so either, regardless of the circumstances.

The bad blood between the two families ran deep. It would take a lot more than needing an empty house to wipe out forty years of ill will.

Catherine Harmon Fletcher was in poor health now, and in a nursing home in Anchorage, close to her daughter.

Ellen, Sawyer’s mother, had suffered so much unhappiness because of Catherine. But she no longer lived in Hard Luck either. She’d remarried and had relocated to British Columbia, as happy as Sawyer had ever known her. He didn’t begrudge his mother her new life. He figured she deserved it after all the miserable years she’d endured.

“What about Pearl’s? She’s going to be moving in with her daughter,” Ben reminded him.

Sawyer hated to see the older woman go, but she’d told him it was time for her to move on, especially now that her friends had mostly left.

“Pearl’s not leaving until we hire a replacement and she’s had the opportunity to train her,” Sawyer said.

Ben mulled over the problem for several minutes. “What about the lodge?” he asked. “I know it’s been years since anyone’s stayed there, but—”

“The lodge?” Sawyer repeated. “You’re joking!”

“It’d take a little work....”

“A little work!” Sawyer knew he was beginning to sound like a parrot, repeating everything the other man said, but the idea was ludicrous. The lodge was in terrible shape. It would take months of hard work and thousands of dollars to make it livable. If it hadn’t been so much trouble, they would have refurbished it, instead of dealing with the cabins. But those, at least, were in one piece.

A fire had burned part of the lodge the year their father died, and not one of the three brothers had ever had the heart to get it repaired.

Their mother had always hated the lodge, which had become a symbol of everything that was wrong with her marriage, and she’d used the fire as an excuse to close it completely. If it’d been up to him, Sawyer would’ve torn the place down years ago. As it was now, the largest building in town stood vacant, a constant reminder of the father he’d loved and lost.

Ben wiped his forehead. “Yeah. The lodge wouldn’t work. It’s a shame, really.”

Sawyer wasn’t sure if Ben was talking about the abandoned lodge or Abbey’s situation.

There was no easy solution. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” he muttered.

Ben was silent for quite some time, which was unusual for him. He studied Abbey and the children, then turned to Sawyer. “I guess you could send her back.” His voice was carefully casual.

“I know.”

“Is that what you plan to do?”

Sawyer felt a twinge of regret. “I can’t see that we have any choice, do you?”

“It’s a simple misunderstanding,” Ben said. “No one’s to blame. She should’ve told Christian about the kids.”

The twinge had become an ache, and it didn’t want to go away. “Maybe Christian should’ve asked.” But it didn’t matter; she was here now, there was no place for her to live and he had to deal with it.

Better Abbey should return to Seattle immediately, Sawyer reasoned, before he found himself making excuses for her to stay.