Читать книгу Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk - Debbie Macomber - Страница 14

Four

Sawyer knew he wouldn’t be winning any popularity contests around Hard Luck if he announced that Abbey Sutherland and her children had to leave. The best way to handle the situation, he decided after giving it serious thought, was for Abbey to back out of the contract on her own—with a little help from him.

He waited until everyone had finished eating before he worked his way over to the table where she sat with Pearl. “I’ll show you to your cabin now,” he offered.

She looked up at him uncertainly, as if she wasn’t quite sure of his motives. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Sawyer,” Pearl said, placing her hand on his forearm.

Sawyer already knew what the older woman was about to say. Like him, Pearl must have realized immediately that Abbey and her children couldn’t live in a dilapidated old cabin outside town.

“When can I meet your dog?” Scott asked eagerly.

“Soon,” Sawyer promised. Eagle Catcher didn’t take easily to strangers; the husky wouldn’t allow the boy to come near him until after two or three visits. Sawyer decided he’d bring Scott over to the house that evening and show him Eagle Catcher’s pen. But the kid would be long gone before the husky accepted him as a friend.

“I’d like to see the library, too, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Abbey said.

“Of course,” Sawyer said in a friendly voice, but a shiver of guilt passed through him. When he’d last spoken to his mother, he’d told her they’d hired a librarian. Ellen had been excited to learn that her gift to the town was finally going to be put to use.

Sawyer squeezed the four of them into the cab of his pickup and drove down the main road. There were a couple of short side streets, but none that anyone had bothered to name.

“What’s that?” Susan asked, pointing to a small wooden structure that stood outside the mercantile. She giggled. “It looks like a little house on stilts.”

“It’s called a cache. We use it to store food and keep it safe from bears and other marauding animals.”

“Alaska’s got lots of bears,” Scott murmured as if he was well versed in the subject. “I read about them in the books Mom brought home from the library.”

“How come the cache has legs that look like they’re wearing silver stockings?” The question came from Susan again.

“That’s tin,” Sawyer explained, “and it’s slippery. Discourages those who like to climb.”

“I wouldn’t try and climb it,” Scott said.

“I don’t think he’s referring to boys,” Abbey told her son. “He was talking about the animals.”

“Oh.”

“Is it still in use?” Abbey asked.

“Yes, it is. I don’t know what Pete keeps in there during the summer months, but it’s a crude kind of freezer in winter.”

“I see.”

“Oh, this is Main Street,” Sawyer said as they continued down the dirt road. Dust scattered in every direction, creating a dense cloud in their wake.

“I wondered if there’d be any leftover snow,” Abbey said. She seemed to be trying to make polite conversation.

“It hasn’t been gone all that long.” Sawyer knew he should use the opportunity to tell her how harsh the winters were and how bleak life was during December, January and February, but he was afraid Abbey would see straight through him. He preferred to be a bit more subtle in his attempt to convince her to go home.

“Is that the school?” Scott asked, pointing to the left.

“Yup.”

“It sure is small.”

“Yup. We’ve got two teachers. One for grades one through eight and another for high school. We had more than twenty students last year.”

“Ben told me you’ve got a new elementary teacher coming soon,” Abbey said.

“That’s right.” The state provided living quarters for the teacher. The house was one of the best in town, with all the modern conveniences. It was a palace compared to the cabin that would be Abbey’s.

They drove past the lodge with its ugly black scars. Susan pressed her face to the window, and Sawyer waited for another barrage of questions, but none was forthcoming.

“Is the cabin close by?” Abbey asked. They’d already passed the outskirts of Hard Luck.

“Not much farther.”

She glanced over her shoulder, as if gauging the distance between the town and her new home.

Sawyer parked in front of the cluster of small cabins and pointed to the one that had been readied for her. Seeing it now, battered by time and the elements, Sawyer experienced a definite feeling of guilt. The idea of luring women north with the promise of housing and land had been a bad idea from the first.

“These are the cabins your brother mentioned?” Abbey kept her voice low, but her shock was all too evident.

“Yes.” This was the moment Sawyer had dreaded.

“We’re supposed to live here?” Scott asked in the same incredulous tone.

“I’m afraid so.”

Susan opened the truck door and climbed out. The seven-year-old planted her hands on her hips and exhaled loudly. “It’s a dump.”

Sawyer said nothing. Frankly, he agreed with the kid.

“It looks like one of those places where you freeze meat in the winter, only it isn’t on stilts,” Scott muttered.

Without a word Abbey walked into the cabin. Sawyer didn’t follow; he knew what she was going to see. A single bed, a crude table and solitary chair, along with a woodstove. A small store of food supplies, stacked in a primitive cupboard.

“Mom,” Scott wailed, “we can’t live here!”

“It is a bit smaller than we expected,” Abbey said. Her shoulders seemed to droop with the weight of her disappointment.

Hands still on her hips, Susan stood there, feet wide apart, as she surveyed the cabin. She shook her head. “This place is a dump,” she repeated.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Scott asked, giving the one-room interior a second look.

“There’s an outhouse in the back,” Sawyer told him. “Just take the path.”

“What’s an outhouse?” Susan asked her mother.

Abbey closed her eyes briefly. “Follow Scott and you’ll find out for yourself.”

The two disappeared, and Abbey turned to Sawyer. He thought she’d yell at him, call him and his brother jerks for misleading her. Instead, she asked, “What about the twenty acres?”

“It’s, uh, several miles to the east of here,” he explained reluctantly. “I have the plot map in the office and I’ll show you later if you want.”

“You mean to say the cabin doesn’t sit on the twenty acres?”

“No,” he answered, swallowing hard. When they’d initially discussed the details of this arrangement, it had all seemed equitable. Sort of. After all, Midnight Sons was picking up the women’s airfare and related expenses. But at the defeated, angry look in Abbey’s eyes, Sawyer felt like a jerk. Worse than a jerk. He wished she’d just yell at him.

“I see,” she said after a long silence. Her voice was so low Sawyer had to strain to hear.

He clenched his hands into tight fists to keep from taking her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her. Was she actually thinking of staying? Christian and the others were so starved for female companionship, they’d have promised the moon to induce women to move to Hard Luck. He didn’t excuse himself; he’d played a major role in this deception, too.

“I found the outhouse,” Susan said, holding her nose as she returned to her mother’s side. “It stinks.”

“What are we gonna do?” Scott asked, sounding desperate.

“Well,” Abbey said thoughtfully, “we’ll have to move a pair of bunk beds in here and add a couple of chairs.”

“But, Mom...”

Sawyer glanced inside the cabin and groaned inwardly.

“We’ll make it a game,” Abbey told her children with forced enthusiasm. “Like pioneers.”

“I don’t wanna play,” Susan whined.

“Maybe there’s someplace else we can rent,” Scott said, looking hopefully at Sawyer.

“There isn’t.” He hated to disappoint the boy, but he couldn’t make houses that didn’t exist appear out of the blue. He turned to Abbey, who continued to stare impassively in the direction of the cabin. He suspected she was struggling to compose herself.

“Could you show me the library now?” she finally asked. Apparently she wanted to see the whole picture before she decided. Fair enough. Sawyer hoped that once she’d had time to analyze the situation, she’d make a reasonable decision. The only reasonable decision.

They all piled back into the truck. On the drive out to the cabin all three Sutherlands had been filled with anticipation. The drive back was silent, their unhappiness almost palpable.

The urge to suggest that Abbey give up and leave was almost more than Sawyer could suppress. But he’d be tipping his hand if he so much as hinted she fly home. He’d say something eventually if need be, but he’d rather she reached that conclusion herself.

The log building designated for the library had once belonged to Sawyer’s grandfather. Adam O’Halloran had settled in the area in the early 1930s. He’d come seeking gold, but instead of finding his fortune, he’d founded a community.

Since the day they’d heard that Christian had hired a librarian, Sawyer and the other pilots had hauled over a hundred or more boxes of books from Ellen’s house, which was now Christian’s.

The original O’Halloran home consisted of three large rooms. Abbey walked inside, and once more her disappointment was evident. “I’ll need bookshelves,” she said stiffly. “You can’t store books in boxes.”

“There are several in Mother’s house. I’ll see that they’re delivered first thing tomorrow morning.”

Her gaze shot to his. “Is your mother’s house vacant?”

Sawyer knew what she was thinking. He shook his head. “Mom’s remarried and out of the state, but Christian lives there now. Although he’s away at the moment, as you know.”

“I see.”

A young boy who introduced himself as Ronny Gold walked his bicycle up to the door and peeked inside. Scott and Ronny stared at each other.

“Can you play?” Ronny asked.

“Mom, can I go outside?”

Abbey nodded. “Don’t be gone long.” She glanced at her watch. “Meet me back here in half an hour, okay?”

“Okay.” Both Scott and Susan disappeared with Ronny.

Hands buried deep in his pants pockets, Sawyer watched as Abbey lifted a book, studied the spine, then picked up another. She handled each one with gentle reverence.

Sawyer waited until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He’d planned to give her more time to realize she couldn’t possibly live under these conditions. But if she wasn’t going to admit it herself...

“It isn’t going to work, Abbey,” he said quietly. “It was a rotten idea, bringing women to Hard Luck. I blame myself. I should never have agreed to this.”

“You want me to leave, don’t you?” she asked in an ominously even voice, ignoring his comment.

Sawyer didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because he refused to lie or mislead her any further. What surprised him most was his own realization—that he’d have liked the opportunity to know her better. Instead, he was forced to send her back to Seattle, where she and her children belonged.

He steeled himself. He and Christian weren’t the only ones at fault.

“You misled my brother,” he said gruffly and couldn’t decide who he was angriest with. Christian? Abbey? Himself?

“I misled Christian?” Abbey cried, her voice bordering on hysteria. “I find that insulting.”

The anger that had simmered just below the surface flared to life. “You duped him into hiring you without once mentioning that you had children!” Sawyer snapped. “I know there was nothing on the application about a family.” That was one problem he was going to correct at the first opportunity. “But you should’ve been more honest, since you were aware that we offered housing as part of the employment package.”

“I should’ve been more honest? That’s the height of hypocrisy! I was told I’d be given living quarters and twenty acres of land, but you neglected to tell me the cabin’s the size of a doghouse.” She dragged in a deep breath. “How dare you suggest I broke the agreement? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You broke the spirit of our agreement.”

“Oh, please! As for your free land, that’s a big joke, too. You forgot to mention that it’s so far from town I’d need a dogsled to reach it. If you want to talk about someone breaking the agreement, then let’s discuss what you and your brother have done to me and my children.”

At the pain in her eyes, he felt worse than ever. He had no defense, and he knew it. “All right. We made a mistake, but I’m willing to pay your airfare home. It’s the least we can do.”

“I’m staying,” she said flatly. “I signed a contract, and I intend to hold up my end of the bargain, despite...despite everything.”

Sawyer couldn’t believe his ears. “You can’t!”

Her eyes flashed. “Why can’t I?”

“You saw the cabin yourself. There’s no way the three of you could possibly live there, bunk beds or not. You might be able to manage this summer, but it’d be out of the question once winter sets in.”

“The children and I are staying.” She said this with such determination Sawyer could readily see that nothing he said or did would change her mind.

“Fine,” he said brusquely. “If that’s your decision.” At best, he figured she’d last the night. By morning she’d be at the airfield with her luggage, anxious to catch the first plane out of Hard Luck.

* * *

An hour later Abbey sat on the edge of the thin mattress and tried to think. She hadn’t felt so close to tears since the day she’d filed for divorce. In some ways, the situation felt very similar to the end of her marriage. She was being forced to admit she’d made a mistake. Another in what seemed to be a very long list.

It hadn’t felt like a mistake when she’d accepted the job. It had felt decidedly right.

The problem was that she didn’t want to leave Hard Luck. She’d painted a fairy-tale picture of the town in her mind, and when it fell short of her expectations she’d floundered in disappointment. Well, she’d been disappointed before and learned from the experience. She would again.

No matter how eager Sawyer O’Halloran was to be rid of her, she was staying.

Really, she had no one to blame but herself. Her father had told her the free cabin and twenty acres sounded too good to be true. She was willing to concede that he was right. But it wasn’t just the promise of a home and land that had drawn her north.

She’d come seeking a slower pace of life, hoping to settle in a community of which she’d be a vital part. A community where she’d know and trust her neighbors. And, of course, the opportunity to set up and manage a library was a dream come true. She’d moved to Hard Luck because she realized being here would make a difference. To herself, to the town, to her children most of all. She’d come so Scott and Susan would only read about drive-by shootings, gang violence and drug problems.

Although her children’s reactions to the cabin had been very much like her own, Abbey was proud of how quickly the two had rebounded.

“It isn’t so bad here,” Scott had told her when he’d returned to the O’Halloran homestead with Ronny Gold. Susan had met Chrissie Harris and they’d quickly become fast friends.

The sound of an approaching truck propelled her off the bed in a near panic. She wasn’t ready for another round with Sawyer O’Halloran!

Sawyer leapt out of the cab as if he wanted to spend as little time as possible in her company. “Your luggage arrived.” Two suitcases were on the ground before she reached the truck bed. Pride demanded that she get the others down herself. He didn’t give her a chance.

Despite the ridiculous accusations he’d made, despite his generally disagreeable nature, Abbey liked Sawyer. She’d seen the regretful look in his eyes when he’d shown her the cabin. It might be fanciful thinking on her part, but she believed he’d wanted her to stay. He might not think it was practical or smart, but she sensed that he wanted her here. In Hard Luck.

He might provoke her, irritate her, accuse her of absurd things; yet she found herself wishing she could get to know him better.

That wasn’t likely. Sawyer O’Halloran had made his views plain enough. For whatever reasons, he wanted her gone.

All the suitcases were on the ground, but Sawyer lingered. He started to leave, then turned back.

“I shouldn’t have said that, about you duping Christian. It wasn’t true.”

“Are you apologizing?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then I accept.” She held out her hand.

His fingers closed firmly over hers. “You don’t have to stay in Hard Luck, Abbey,” he said. “No one’s going to think less of you if you leave.”

She held her breath until her chest began to ache. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back now.”

Frowning, he released her hand. “Why can’t you?”

“I sold my car to pay for the kids’ airfare.”

“I already told you I’d buy your tickets home.”

“It’s more than that.”

He hopped onto the tailgate and she joined him. “I want to help you, if you’ll let me,” he said.

She debated admitting how deeply committed she was to this venture, then figured she might as well, because he’d learn the truth sooner or later.

“My furniture and everything I own is in the back of some truck on its way to Alaska. It should get here within a month.”

He shook his head. “It won’t, you know.”

“But that’s what I was told!”

“Your things will be delivered to Fairbanks. There’s no road to Hard Luck.”

She wasn’t completely stupid, no matter what he thought. “I asked Christian and he told me there’s a haul road.”

“The haul road is only passable in winter. It’s twenty-six miles to the Dalton Highway, which doesn’t even resemble the highways you know. It’s little more than a dirt and gravel road. A haul road’s much worse. It crosses two rivers and they need to freeze before you can drive over them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Abbey, but your furniture won’t go any farther than Fairbanks.”

She took this latest bit of information with a resigned grimace. “Then I’ll wait until winter. It’s not like I have any place to put a love seat, do I?” she asked, gesturing at the cabin.

“No, I guess you don’t.” He eased himself off the tailgate, then gave her a hand down. “I need to get back to the airfield.”

“Thanks for bringing our luggage.”

“No problem.”

“Mom. Mom.” Scott came racing toward her. Keeping pace with him was a large husky. “I found a dog! Look.” He fell to his knees and enthusiastically wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck. “I wonder who he belongs to.”

“That’s Eagle Catcher,” Sawyer said as his eyes widened in shock. “My dog. What’s he doing here? He should be locked in his pen!”

* * *

That evening, Sawyer sat in front of a gentle fire, a book propped in his hands. Eagle Catcher rested on the braided rug by the fireplace. The book didn’t hold his attention. He doubted that anything could distract him from Abbey and her two children.

In all the years he’d lived in Hard Luck, Sawyer had only known intense fear once, and that had been the day his father died.

He never worried, but he did this June night. He worried that Susan or Scott might encounter a bear on their way to the outhouse. He worried that they’d face any number of unforeseen dangers.

He couldn’t help recalling that Emily O’Halloran, an aunt he’d never known, had been lost on the tundra at the age of five. She’d been playing outside his grandparents’ cabin one minute and was gone the next. Without a sound. Without a trace.

For years his grandmother had been distraught and inconsolable over the loss of her youngest child and only daughter. In fact, Anna O’Halloran had named the town. She’d called it Hard Luck because of her husband’s failure to find the rich vein of gold he’d been looking for; with the tragedy of Emily’s death, the name took on new significance.

Worrying about Abbey and her children was enough to ruin Sawyer’s evening. Surely by morning she’d see reason and decide to return to Seattle!

Eagle Catcher rose and walked over to Sawyer’s chair. He placed his head on his master’s knee.

“You surprised me, boy,” Sawyer said, scratching his dog’s ears. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Eagle Catcher and Scott had acted as if they’d been raised together. The rapport between them had been strong and immediate. The first shock had been that the dog had escaped his pen and followed Sawyer’s truck; the second, that he’d so quickly accepted the boy.

“You like Scott, don’t you?”

Eagle Catcher whined as if he understood and was responding to the question.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, boy. I feel the same way.” About Abbey. About her children.

He tensed. The only solution was for Abbey to leave—for more reasons than he wanted to think about. He prayed she’d use common sense and hightail it out of Hard Luck come morning.

* * *

The cabin wasn’t so bad, Abbey decided after her first two days. It was a lot like camping, only inside. She could almost pretend it was fun, but she longed for a real shower and a meal that wasn’t limited to sandwiches.

Other than their complaints about having to use an outhouse, her children had adjusted surprisingly well.

The summer months would be tolerable, Abbey thought, but she couldn’t ignore Sawyer’s warning about the winter.

As for her work at the library, Abbey loved it. Sawyer had seen to the delivery of the bookcases from his mother’s house, along with a solid wood desk and chair for her.

The day after her arrival, Abbey had set about categorizing the books and creating a filing system. Someday she planned to have everything on a computer, but first things first.

“How are things going?” Pearl Inman asked, letting herself into the library.

“Fine, thanks.”

“I brought you a cup of coffee. I was hoping to talk you into taking a short break.”

Abbey stood and stretched, placing her hands at the small of her back. “I could use one.” She walked to the door and looked outside, wondering about Scott and Susan, who were out exploring. It was all so different from their life in a Seattle high-rise. She knew Scott and Ronny spent a good part of each day down at the airfield pestering Sawyer.

If Scott wasn’t with Ronny, then he was with Sawyer’s dog. Abbey couldn’t remember a time her son had been so content.

Susan and Chrissie Harris spent nearly every minute they could with each other. In two days’ time they’d become virtually inseparable. Mitch Harris had stopped by to introduce himself. Mitch, Abbey recalled, worked for the Department of the Interior and was the local public safety officer. He seemed grateful that his daughter had a new friend.

“I can’t believe the progress you’ve made,” Pearl said, surveying the room. “This is grand, just grand. Ellen will be delighted.”

Abbey knew that Ellen was Sawyer’s mother and the woman who’d donated the books to the town.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sawyer lately?” Pearl asked, pouring them each a cup from her thermos.

“Not a word in almost two days,” Abbey admitted, hoping none of her disappointment showed in her voice.

“He’s been in a bad mood from the moment you got here. I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy. I haven’t seen him behave like this since his father died. He blamed himself, you know.”

Abbey settled on a corner of the desk and left the chair for the older woman.

“What happened to his father?”

Pearl raised the cup to her lips. “David was killed in an accident several years ago. They’d flown to one of the lakes for some fishing, which David loved. On the trip home, the plane developed engine trouble and they were forced down. David was badly injured in the crash. It was just the two of them deep in the bush.” She paused and sipped at her coffee.

“You can imagine how Sawyer must have felt, fighting to keep his father alive until help arrived. They were alone for two hours before anyone could reach them, but it was too late by then. David was gone.”

Abbey closed her eyes as she thought of the stark terror that must have gripped Sawyer, alone in the bush with his dying father.

“If I live another sixty years I’ll never forget the sight of Sawyer carrying his father from the airfield. He was covered in David’s blood and refused to let him go. It was far too late, of course. David was already dead. We had to pry him out of Sawyer’s arms.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Abbey whispered. “It was an accident. There was nothing he could’ve done.”

“There isn’t a one of us who didn’t tell him that. The accident changed him. It changed Hard Luck. Soon Ellen moved away and eventually remarried. Catherine Fletcher grieved something fierce. That was when her health started to fail.”

“Have I met Catherine?” Abbey asked, wondering why Pearl would mention a woman other than David’s wife.

“Catherine Fletcher. Used to be Catherine Harmon. No...no, she’s in a nursing home in Anchorage now. Her daughter lives there.”

Pearl must have read the question in Abbey’s eyes. “Catherine and David were engaged before World War II. She loved him as a teenager and she never stopped. Not even when she married someone else. David broke her heart when he returned from the war with an English bride.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Ellen never quite fit in with the folks in Hard Luck. She seemed different from us, standoffish. I don’t think she meant to be, and I don’t think she realized how she looked to others. It took me a few years myself to see that it was just Ellen’s way. She was really quite shy, felt out of place. It didn’t help any that she didn’t have children right away. She tried. God knows she wanted a family. They were married almost fifteen years before Charles was born.”

“You said Catherine got married?” Abbey asked, her heart aching for the jilted woman.

“Oh, yes, on the rebound, right after David returned from the war. She gave birth to Kate nine months later and was divorced from Willie Fletcher within two years.”

“She never remarried?”

“Never. I thought for a time that she and David would get back together, but it wasn’t to be. Ellen left him, you see, and returned to England. Christian was about ten at the time. She was gone well over a year.” She shook her head, then sighed. “You can understand how David’s death affected everyone in town. Especially Sawyer.”

“Of course.”

“What I don’t get is why he’s upset now. He’s walking around like a bear with a sore paw, snapping at everyone.”

Abbey gaped at her. “You think it’s got something to do with me?”

“That’s my guess. But what do I know?” Pearl asked. She drank the rest of her coffee and stood up to leave. “I’d best get back to the clinic before someone misses me.” The clinic was in the community building, close to the school and the church.

She tucked the thermos under her arm. “So, are you staying in Hard Luck or not?” she asked. Her question had an edge to it, as if she wasn’t sure she was going to like the answer.

Abbey told her the truth. “I’d like to stay.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Abbey grinned. “I’m staying.”

Pearl’s lined face softened. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. We need you, and I have a feeling Sawyer wants you to stay, too.”

Abbey laughed in disbelief. “I doubt that.” And if it was true once, she felt certain it no longer was.

“No, really,” Pearl countered. “Unfortunately that boy doesn’t have the brains of a muskrat when it comes to dealing with an attractive woman.” She made her way to the door. “Give him time and a little patience, and he’ll come around.” With a cheerful wave, Pearl left.

Abbey returned to work and got busy unloading another box of Ellen’s books. Knowing what she did now, the collection took on new meaning for her. Many of the books dated from the early to mid-fifties. Those were the childless years, when Ellen had yearned for a baby. Abbey suspected that Ellen O’Halloran had gained solace from these books, that they’d substituted for the friends she hadn’t been able to make in this town so far from England.

As she set a pile of Mary Roberts Rinehart mysteries on the desk, she heard the distinctive sound of Sawyer’s truck pulling up outside.

Her heart started to race, but she continued working.

He stormed inside and stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. His presence filled the room until Abbey felt hedged in by the sheer strength of it. “Have you decided to stay?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she answered smoothly. “I’m staying.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she said with conviction. And she was sure. During her conversation with Pearl, she’d made up her mind.

“Fine. You’re moving.”

“Where?” Abbey had been told often enough that there wasn’t any other place available.

“You can stay in Christian’s house. He phoned this afternoon, and he’s decided to make a vacation out of this trip. I’ll let him decide what to do with you when he gets home.”