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Five

Bright and early Monday morning, Christian settled down at his desk in the Midnight Sons office. Determined to make some headway in replacing Mariah, he reached for the file folder that held the pertinent applications.

Leaning back in his chair, he read over a number of résumés. Several applicants were vastly overqualified. Others had little or no relevant experience, just an eagerness for adventure. Christian decided they wouldn’t work out, either. Neither he nor Sawyer had time to train a replacement.

Discouraged, he set the file aside and promised himself he’d read through it again later, when he was ready to deal with the problem. What he wanted of course, what he hoped would happen, was that Mariah would realize she wasn’t cut out for the restaurant business and return to Midnight Sons. Now that she knew Allison Reynolds wouldn’t be coming, there was no reason to be stubborn.

Sawyer arrived half an hour after Christian, clearly surprised to find his brother at the office so early.

“I’ve been working on finding a replacement for Mariah,” Christian told Sawyer. What he failed to mention was that he hadn’t found a résumé or application that suited him yet. Nor did he think it was a good idea to admit he was holding out, hoping Mariah would have a change of heart.

Sawyer nodded.

“You want to give me some help here?” He supposed they might as well go through the motions. “Perhaps we should try for an older woman this time, someone mature,” he suggested.

“Sure.” Sawyer didn’t sound as if he particularly cared.

“Someone methodical,” Christian said next. “I don’t care how fast she types, as long as she’s accurate.” He wrote that down on the pad.

“Okay with me,” Sawyer murmured while preparing a pot of coffee.

The coffee had always been made before they arrived at the office—by Mariah. Not that they weren’t capable of making coffee themselves. But it was generous of her to do it without being asked. Christian hadn’t given the matter more than a passing thought until just that moment. In fact, Mariah had willingly taken on a number of small tasks that made their lives easier.

“She should have a good attitude,” Christian went on.

“I agree,” Sawyer said with conviction. “I don’t want someone to come in here asking what we can do for her. I’m much more interested in what she can do for us, especially since we’re the ones paying her wages.”

Christian added “good attitude” to the list, and with Sawyer’s help came up with several other qualities. They found it vital that the new secretary be prompt and professional. Loyal and responsible. Because they did so much of their business over the phone, a pleasant phone manner was essential.

As Christian read over the qualifications for Mariah’s replacement, it became obvious that—except for the “older” part—they’d described Mariah herself.

Christian felt suddenly troubled. How could he have been so...so misguided? The perfect candidate had been there all along, and it had taken him all this time to see it. For twelve months he’d been hoping she’d leave; now that she was gone, he wanted her back. Something was definitely wrong, and he had the feeling that whatever was askew had to do with him.

“Have you got someone yet?” Sawyer asked ten minutes later.

“No!” Christian snapped. “How could I?”

“Well, read through those applications, would you? The sooner we get someone here, the better. We can’t expect Lanni to fill in for long.”

“I understand that,” Christian returned impatiently.

“Charles was against Lanni coming to work for us in the first place,” Sawyer went on, “but she insisted—said a few days away from her writing wouldn’t matter. She’ll be in this afternoon.”

Christian didn’t understand why Sawyer was in such an all-fired hurry. He’d already gone through the file a second time and hadn’t found a suitable applicant. Nor did he share his brother’s sense of urgency. This wasn’t something that needed to be done right that very minute.

Brother worked amicably with brother for the remainder of the morning. Their staff of pilots wandered in and out of the office, as was their habit, before heading out to the hangar to complete their assignments for the day.

“Who’s going to make up the flight schedule?” Sawyer asked.

In the past Mariah had seen to it.

“You do it this week and I’ll do it next,” Christian suggested in what he felt was a fair compromise.

“Oh, so you’ll do it next week,” Sawyer muttered sarcastically. “You’d better have hired a replacement long before then.”

Before next week! Sawyer didn’t actually expect someone to drop her entire life because of a phone call, did he? Christian doubted he’d find a replacement willing to move to the Arctic just like that. These things took time, lots of time.

Duke Porter was the last pilot to drop by the office that morning. He walked in, glared at Christian and announced, “Mariah’s working at Ben’s.”

“Yes, I know.” Christian studied the pilot. Although Mariah had assured him there was nothing between her and Duke, Christian couldn’t help wondering.

“Why?” Duke was still glaring at him.

“You’ll have to ask her.” Christian wouldn’t mind having the answer to that himself.

“I’m asking you,” Duke said in a way that laid the blame squarely on Christian’s shoulders.

“I don’t know why she quit,” he mumbled, and realized that wasn’t completely true. “I have my suspicions, but none I’d care to discuss.”

“It isn’t the same around here without Mariah,” Duke complained, setting aside his clipboard. “A man becomes accustomed to things being done a certain way.”

“What do you mean?” Sawyer asked. “It’s still the same office, same business.”

“Well, it’s too quiet in here. A man could get, I don’t know, bored.”

“Bored,” Sawyer repeated.

“Bored,” Duke said again, with more certainty this time. “Before, it was fun to watch Mariah tiptoe around Christian. She used to make these hilarious faces at him behind his back.”

“She did what?” Christian was outraged, then amused. That sounded like something she’d do, and in retrospect he didn’t hold it against her. He had been kind of a jerk.

“Who could blame her?” Duke asked. “For making faces or leaving. Christian was always on her case for one reason or another, but she was a good sport about it.” He turned to Christian. “Everyone knew you were looking for an excuse to fire her. But without Mariah around, it’s...it’s like someone dimmed the lights in here.”

Christian was inclined to argue, but realized Duke was right. In more ways than one.

“Do you?” Duke pressed. “Blame her for leaving?”

“I guess I can’t,” Christian admitted in a grudging voice.

The pilot seemed surprised that Christian had agreed so readily. “You going to get her back?”

Christian desperately hoped so, but he couldn’t guarantee it. With luck, Mariah would figure out that waitressing wasn’t for her. She had all kinds of abilities that were wasted at the café, although he had to concede she baked a fine apple pie.

Duke left after a few more admonitions, and Christian started thinking about what the bush pilot had said. He wasn’t going to plead with her to come back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to make a few subtle suggestions.

“Will you be all right if I drop in at Ben’s for a few minutes?” he asked his brother.

Sawyer gave him an odd look, then nodded. “Just don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

He hurried across the yard and noticed a distinct chill in the air. Although it was still August and summer wasn’t officially over, he could feel autumn coming on; soon the days would shorten dramatically. It wasn’t unheard of for snow to fall in September or for the rivers to freeze. The wind increased as he rushed into the Hard Luck Café, almost pulling the door out of his hand. He saw Ben at the counter, but the place was otherwise empty, since coffee break was over and the lunch crowd hadn’t started to arrive.

Ben offered Christian a friendly smile. “What can I do for you this fine day?” he asked.

“How about coffee and a doughnut?” Christian pulled out a stool. He made sure that when he sat down this time he didn’t slide off. He looked around, wondering where Mariah was, but he didn’t want to be so obvious as to ask.

“In the kitchen. Baking another pie,” Ben supplied, knowing all too well the purpose of Christian’s visit.

Christian pretended not to understand what Ben was talking about.

“You want me to call her out here?” Ben asked.

“No,” Christian answered automatically, then regretted it.

“She’s causing quite a stir, you know,” Ben said conversationally as he filled Christian’s mug. He piled a couple of sugar-coated doughnuts onto a plate and set it in front of him.

“You mean her apple pie?”

“Not her pies, although her recipe is excellent.” He raised his fingertips to his mouth and loudly kissed them. “I mean Mariah herself. Business has really picked up since she came to work for me. Those fellows are interested in more than my moose pot roast with cranberry sauce.”

This was something Christian hadn’t considered. Mariah had been living in Hard Luck for the better part of a year and had caused barely any reaction among the men in town. He’d never understood it. Many a time he would’ve given his eyeteeth for one of his pilots to sweep her off her feet—and out from under his. It hadn’t happened. Nor did he understand what was so different now.

“Who?” he demanded. He wasn’t about to let a bunch of lovesick pilots pester her! Christian didn’t linger on the contradictions between his attitude today and that of two months ago. If his men wanted to come in and eat at Ben’s, then fine, but anything else and they’d answer to him. After all, he’d been responsible for bringing her to Alaska; he was responsible for ensuring her safety and well-being while she was here. Which was why he had to protect her from the pilots. He didn’t feel completely convinced that there wasn’t anything going on between her and Duke, either. She claimed there wasn’t, but judging by the pilot’s behavior earlier, Christian was beginning to think otherwise. Duke might well be attracted to her. Mariah needed the gentle guidance of an older brother, a good friend. Someone like himself.

“Bill Landgrin for one,” Ben answered.

The name caught Christian’s attention right away. The pipeline worker was a known troublemaker. Generally Christian was able to get along with just about everyone, but Bill rubbed him the wrong way. He frowned, disliking the thought of Mariah having anything to do with the likes of Bill.

“Who else?”

“Ralph asked her out,” Ben murmured, dropping his voice. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mariah wasn’t listening in on their conversation.

“Ralph Ferris?” One of Christian’s own pilots. He felt not only betrayed but puzzled. Ralph had seen Mariah on a daily basis for a whole year. If he’d been interested, he could’ve asked her out before this. Why he’d pursue her now didn’t make sense, especially if Duke had set his sights on her. None of this made sense.

“You don’t look pleased.”

“I’m not,” Christian admitted. Unfortunately he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.

“Not that you have a say in the matter.” Ben echoed his own thoughts, again keeping his voice low.

Christian met Ben’s gaze evenly. They’d been friends for a lot of years. Frankly Christian didn’t like the idea of a woman standing between them, and he stated his feelings.

“I want her back,” he said.

Ben laughed.

It wasn’t the reaction Christian had expected, to say the least.

Still grinning, Ben said, “I knew that the minute you walked in here. It might come as a surprise, old friend, but I haven’t got her tied to the stove back there. Mariah’s free to leave or stay, whichever she decides.”

“Fine, just as long as you know where I—where we stand,” he amended, including Sawyer and Charles in the equation.

“To my way of thinking, you shouldn’t have let her go in the first place,” Ben said. He frowned, giving the impression that he didn’t understand why the O’Hallorans had been so foolish.

Christian didn’t have an answer.

* * *

Mariah was elbow-deep in flour as she strained to hear the conversation between Christian and Ben. She didn’t mean to snoop—well, to be honest, she did. She wanted to hear what Christian was saying and strained to make out every word. She couldn’t help wanting to know if he missed her, or if he’d given her absence so much as a passing thought.

Ben’s voice drifted into the kitchen far more clearly than Christian’s. She heard him tell Christian about Bill Landgrin’s interest in her and smiled to herself. Not that she’d ever consider dating Bill. That would be asking for trouble. Word had got around fast about Bill and his roving hands. Besides, there was only one man who interested Mariah, and he was sitting in this very café, whispering about her.

The phone rang, and she heard Ben amble over to the counter to answer it. A moment later, the cook shouted, “Mariah, it’s long distance for you.”

Mariah quickly dusted the flour from her hands and reached for the extension on the kitchen wall. “This is Mariah,” she said into the mouthpiece.

Once he was sure she’d picked up the phone, Ben hung up.

“Mariah, it’s Tracy. What happened?”

“Happened?” Her friend sounded upset.

“I called Midnight Sons, and Sawyer said you no longer worked there and said I should contact you at the Hard Luck Café.”

“I quit,” Mariah explained simply.

Tracy exhaled a sharp breath. “What did Christian do this time?”

Mariah loved the way her friend immediately assumed Christian was to blame. This was one of Tracy’s most endearing traits—she was loyal to a fault.

“What makes you think Christian did anything?”

“I know the man. He’s done everything in his power to make your life miserable.”

“That’s not true.” Mariah found herself wanting to defend Christian. “I’d been with Midnight Sons for a year, and it seemed time to move on, that’s all.”

“You didn’t mention it while we were in Anchorage.”

“I—I didn’t decide until after I returned.”

Tracy wasn’t about to accept such a weak explanation. “You didn’t come up with this idea on the spur of the moment. I know you far too well to believe that. Christian O’Halloran drove you to it.”

“No one drove me to anything,” Mariah insisted. “I work with Ben now.” She didn’t say that she wasn’t sure Ben could afford to keep her much longer. Her pies were selling as fast as she could bake them, but her waitressing skills left a lot to be desired.

Thus far, Ben had been exceedingly patient with her, but she’d already broken two coffeepots. She’d offered to have him deduct the cost from her paycheck, but he’d refused.

To Mariah’s own disappointment, she had to acknowledge that she lacked the skills to be a waitress. She confused orders and had a tendency not to look where she was going. Only this morning, she’d dumped a plate of poached eggs on Keith Campbell’s lap. It hadn’t been intentional of course, but Keith had been annoyed, to put it mildly.

Mariah had tried to apologize, but Keith hadn’t given her a chance. He’d stomped out. Ben didn’t seem distressed to lose him as a customer, though, saying he’d just as soon do without Keith’s business. No big loss, Ben assured her.

“I had to leave Midnight Sons,” Mariah admitted miserably.

“I thought as much,” Tracy said in a soothing voice. “Do you want me to file a lawsuit against them?”

“On what grounds?” Mariah demanded. The O’Hallorans had been good to her. They’d deeded her twenty acres of their own land, plus given her the cabin. In a way she felt they’d saved her by granting her the means to escape her family’s dominance.

“I’m sure we could come up with something,” Tracy said.

Tracy was by nature confrontational, which made her a good attorney. But that was also the reason for her problem with Duke, Mariah realized. The pilot enjoyed saying outlandish things just to rile Tracy, and it worked every time.

“I’d never sue the O’Hallorans,” Mariah stressed, wanting to make that clear.

“Christian’s at the root of this, and I—”

“Tracy,” Mariah said, cutting off her friend, “listen. I’m perfectly happy. Midnight Sons will survive without me.” The real question was whether she’d survive without them—or without one of them, anyway. But for pride’s sake she couldn’t admit that, not even to her friend.

They talked for a few more minutes, with Mariah struggling to convince Tracy that she was happy and at the same time convince herself.

Working for Ben was what she wanted. She said it over and over, and once Tracy was satisfied that Mariah had been the one to initiate the change, she was less concerned.

“Promise you’ll contact me if you need anything?” Tracy asked. “I’ll do anything I can to help you, as a friend and as an attorney.”

Mariah promised, but she couldn’t imagine why she’d ever need an attorney.

* * *

Bethany stood at the front of the classroom and looked down the evenly spaced rows of empty desks. In a matter of days those same desks would be filled with Hard Luck’s children.

A sense of pride, mingled with responsibility, suddenly overwhelmed her. She loved her job. She loved Alaska. Although she’d never asked Ben what had drawn him to the tiny Arctic community, she thought she understood. The beauty of this place often stole her breath. She defied anyone to look over the tundra in full bloom, to smell the scent of fresh, clean air mingled with spruce and wildflowers, and not understand.

Yes, there was also the challenge of winter, the difficulty of living week upon week in almost total darkness and subzero temperatures. Not everyone was suited to this life.

Spring brought with it far more than daylight and budding flowers, she mused. With the end of winter came a sense of—she wasn’t sure just what to call it—accomplishment, she decided. Bethany remembered experiencing this phenomenon the previous spring. She’d realized that she’d survived the dark and the cold of winter. She’d stood in the sun, soaking up the warmth, her arms stretched toward the bright blue sky. With that moment came a feeling of power. She’d known that with love, with determination, with the force of her own inner strength, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t accomplish. The feeling had never left her.

Bethany smiled, thinking of Ben, and how coming to find him, meeting this man who’d given her life, had changed her. She was grateful to him in more ways than she could express. Without Ben she’d never have met Mitch and Chrissie.

“You’re looking thoughtful.”

Mitch stood in the classroom doorway, his arms crossed. Tall and muscular, he was dressed in his Department of the Interior uniform. Her heart swelled with pride and love at the sight of her husband.

“I was just thinking about Ben,” Bethany said.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

It would be useless to deny it. “I guess I am. He just didn’t look good the other night.”

“Sweetheart, you woke him out of a sound sleep.”

“I know.” Ben had been thrilled with the news of her pregnancy, and they’d chatted and laughed for an hour before she’d headed home.

Not until she dressed for bed that night had she given her visit a second thought. Something wasn’t right with Ben, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I came to take you to lunch,” Mitch told her, “since Chrissie’s playing at Susan’s. You’ll be able to see for yourself that Ben’s as cantankerous as always.”

“Lunch,” Bethany said, grinning. “You certainly know the way to my heart.”

* * *

Christian didn’t think he could avoid being obvious when he stopped in at the Hard Luck Café for dinner that evening. The special, barbecued elk ribs, was by no means his favorite meal. Nor was he keen on having half of Hard Luck watch him make a fool of himself. But he had no choice. Somehow, he needed to convince Mariah to return to Midnight Sons.

His day hadn’t gone well. Sawyer was on his back about hiring a replacement. The phone had kept them hopping all afternoon. The pilots were complaining. Nothing seemed right. Sometimes Christian forgot what an ill-tempered bunch they could be.

He thought wryly that even when Mariah wasn’t at the office, she managed to make his life miserable.

When he entered the café, Christian was shocked by how busy it was. The place was packed. Every seat at the counter was taken and all the tables were occupied. The last empty spot in the entire restaurant was tucked away in the far corner. Considering himself fortunate, Christian grabbed that before someone else could take it.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Mariah said as she rushed past Christian, pen and pad in hand. She’d gone two or three steps before she realized who it was. Turning back, she offered him a brief but tired smile. “Hello, Christian.”

“Mariah.” For an instant he had to stop himself from rising out of his chair to help her. The temptation was so strong he had to hold on to the table. She didn’t belong here, doing this job. She should be with him, not a roomful of other men.

“Mariah, isn’t my order up yet?”

“Mariah, I need more coffee.”

“Mariah, did you forget my apple pie?”

When Christian couldn’t bear to listen any longer, he left the table, hurried past her and directly into the kitchen, where he found Ben filling dinner plates as fast as he could.

“Don’t you hear what’s going on out there?” he demanded.

“Sure I do,” Ben said, chuckling. “I’m hearing the clang of that cash register. Didn’t I tell you Mariah’s been a real boon to my sales?”

“They’re not giving her a moment’s peace!” Christian clenched his fists at his sides.

“Ben, I need—” Mariah flew into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Christian standing there. “More rolls,” she finished weakly.

“I want to talk to you,” Christian said, holding her captive with his stare.

“I can’t.” She looked over her shoulder. “I’ve got a roomful of hungry people all wanting their food right this minute.” Her harried gaze darted past him to the counter, where Ben had placed the rolls. “I’m sorry, Christian, but I just can’t.”

“You’re running yourself ragged,” he said in a tone few would ignore. His patience was gone. He’d make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. He wanted her out of this café, and he didn’t care what it cost him.

“She can’t talk now.” It was Ben who answered on her behalf. “You seem to forget Mariah works for me. If you have anything to say to her, you’ll have to do it on her time, not mine.”

“Fine,” Christian said, gritting his teeth with frustration. “I’ll walk you home.”

“That...that won’t work, either,” Mariah said, biting her lower lip. “Ralph already asked if he could walk me home, and I told him he could.”

“Ralph,” Christian repeated bitterly. Well, he’d have something to say about that. The man was not only his employee but a personal friend. Or used to be.

Christian’s mood didn’t improve during his meal. He watched as Mariah fluttered from one table to another, growing more harried with every minute. It gave him no pleasure to realize he hadn’t underestimated her skills. Mariah made mistake after mistake, but what astonished him was that not a single customer complained. Half the time the men didn’t even bother to correct her.

If she gave someone the wrong order she never knew it; people ate what they were served or traded with someone else.

Once he’d finished dishing up the meals, Ben positioned himself in front of the cash register and gleefully collected money. He grinned from ear to ear each time the register rang.

The only person in the whole restaurant who didn’t seem happy was Christian. He’d planned to wait it out, convince Ralph to let him walk Mariah home, but after an hour he couldn’t sit idle anymore.

His mood soured as the men openly flirted with her. It infuriated him when they told her how pretty she looked and how her presence brightened the whole place. It was all rubbish, and yet Mariah ate it up as quickly as they downed her apple pie.

He paid his tab and left wearing a scowl.

When he got home, his mood still hadn’t improved. He turned on the television for a while. Thanks to the satellite dish, he had a large number of choices. But he surfed from channel to channel, unable to find a program that held his interest.

Disgusted with himself, he turned off the set and reached for the novel he’d started the week before. He read ten pages and couldn’t remember a single word. Slamming the book closed, he began to pace. Soon he was studying the clock.

Ben closed shop around eight. He figured with cleanup and all, it would take an hour or so before Ralph escorted Mariah to her cabin. His jaw tightened at the thought, but Christian knew he had no claim on her. Nor did he want one, he tried to convince himself.

It was just that he felt responsible for Mariah. Yeah, responsible, the way a man might feel toward his little sister. She needed a guiding hand, someone to advise her and caution her.

He’d definitely cleared that up in his own mind. He felt immeasurably better.

Although he’d let her know he wanted to talk to her, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He was walking a fine line here, and he knew it. If he pressured her, she’d resist.

What he hoped would happen was that she’d openly admit she missed Midnight Sons. At that point, Christian would be free to suggest she return. But he could see this wasn’t likely without some concessions on his part. If only he could figure out exactly what they should be!

Christian bided his time, counted off the minutes, then walked out of the house. He stood on his front porch and stared across the street at his brother’s place.

Scott and Eagle Catcher were playing in the yard. The boy was tossing a stick, and with boundless energy the husky was retrieving it. Susan was playing dolls with Chrissie Harris on the porch steps.

The reflection of the television screen showed in the window, and Christian assumed Sawyer and Abbey were cuddled up in front of it watching the news.

A year. In an amazingly short time his brother had become completely domesticated. Christian was happy for him, but he wanted none of this for himself. His life was just the way he liked it. One thing was certain: he didn’t want a woman trying to change him, messing with his individuality. He’d leave this marriage-and-family stuff to his two older brothers.

He sighed as he walked down the steps and buried his hands in his pockets. He sincerely hoped Charles and Sawyer appreciated what he was about to do. If he was successful, they’d have their secretary back. If not, well, he’d deal with that after he’d talked to Mariah.

“Where you going, Uncle Christian?” Scott asked, running to catch up with him. Eagle Catcher was like a shadow at his side.

“For a walk.” He hoped the brevity of his response would give Scott the hint.

“Someone’s playing cowboys and Indians,” Scott said conversationally.

“Really?”

“Yup, they’re sending signals.” Scott stopped, hands on his hips. “They’re not doing it right, though. Look.” He pointed toward the cabins where Mariah lived. “See all that smoke?”

“Smoke?”

Christian whirled around, and sure enough, a trail of dark smoke spiraled upward. His heart kicked into gear. “Those aren’t smoke signals,” he shouted. “That’s a fire!”