Midnight Sons Volume 2 (12 page)

He punched out the phone number and waited. Bethany answered on the second ring.

“Hello.”

Now that he heard her voice, he felt a moment’s panic. What could he say? He didn’t want to exaggerate and make it sound as if Chrissie was seriously ill, nor did he wish to make light of her request.

“It’s Mitch.”

No response.

“I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” She sounded friendly, but not overly so.

“Chrissie seems to have come down with the flu.” Then, on a stroke of genius, he invented the reason for his call. “Did she mention not feeling well at school today?”

“No, she didn’t say a word.” Concern was more evident in her voice than irritation.

“It’s probably nothing more than a twenty-four-hour virus,” he said.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

He’d been born under a lucky star, Mitch decided. Without his having to say a word, she’d volunteered.

“As a matter of fact, Chrissie’s feeling pretty bad at the moment and she’s asking for you. I don’t want you to go out of your way—”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“No.” He wouldn’t hear of her walking that far in weather this cold. “I’ll come for you on the snowmobile.”

She hesitated. “Fine. I’ll watch for you.”

Mitch went back into Chrissie’s bedroom. “I talked to Ms. Ross.”

“And?” Chrissie nearly fell out of the bed she was so eager to hear the outcome of the conversation.

“She’ll come, but I didn’t want her walking over here in the cold. I’m going to pick her up on the snowmobile. You’ll be all right alone for five minutes, won’t you?”

Chrissie’s eyes filled with outrage. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“I’m glad to know that.” If he’d actually been upset about asking Bethany to visit, he might have pointed out that someone who wasn’t a little kid anymore wouldn’t ask for her teacher.

Mitch called out to Chrissie that he was leaving. He put on his insulated, waterproof jacket and wound a thick scarf around his neck, covering his mouth, before he stepped outside. The snowmobile was the most frequently used means of transportation in the winter months, and he kept his well-maintained. The minute he pulled up outside Bethany’s small house, her door opened and she appeared.

She climbed onto the back of the snowmobile and positioned herself a discreet distance behind him. Nevertheless, having her this close produced a fiery warmth he couldn’t escape—didn’t
want
to escape.

She didn’t say anything until they’d reached his house. He parked the snowmobile inside the garage and plugged in the heater to protect the engine.

Once in the house they removed their winter gear. Bethany was wearing leggings and an oversize San Francisco Police Department sweatshirt; her feet were covered in heavy red woollen socks. He stared at her, taking in every detail.

Mitch found he couldn’t speak. It was the first time they’d been alone together since the scene in his office. This sudden intimacy caught him off guard, and he wasn’t sure how to react.

Part of him yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her again. Only this time he’d be tender, drawing out the kiss with—

“Where’s Chrissie?” Bethany asked, mercifully breaking into his thoughts.

“Chrissie…She’s in her bedroom.”

The oven timer went off, and grateful for the excuse to clear his head, Mitch walked into the kitchen. He opened the oven and pulled out the ground-turkey casserole to cool on top of the stove.

He entered his daughter’s room and discovered Bethany sitting on the bed, with Chrissie cuddled close. The child’s head rested against Bethany’s shoulder as she read from the story he’d begun himself. When Chrissie glanced up to find Mitch watching, her eyes shone with happiness.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, craning her neck to look up at Bethany. “Dad usually reads me this story, but you do it better because you love it, too. I don’t think Dad likes romance stories.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Mitch announced. “Are you sure you won’t try to eat something, pumpkin?”

Chrissie’s frown said that was a terribly difficult decision. “Maybe I could eat just a little, but only if Ms. Ross will stay and have dinner with us.”

Before Bethany could offer a perfunctory excuse, Mitch said, “There’s plenty, and we’d both enjoy having you.” He wanted to be certain she understood that he wouldn’t object to her company; if anything, he’d be glad of it.

He saw her gaze travel from him to Chrissie and then back. He leaned against the doorway, hands deep in his pockets, trying to give the impression that it made no difference to him if she joined them or not. But it did. He
wanted
her to stay.

“I…It’s thoughtful of you to ask. I, uh, haven’t eaten yet.”

“Oh, goodie.” Chrissie jumped up and clapped her hands, bouncing with glee. Then, as if she’d just remembered how ill she was supposed to be, she sagged her shoulders and all but crumpled onto the bed.

In an effort to hide his smile, Mitch returned to the kitchen and quickly set the table. By the time Chrissie and Bethany joined him, he’d brought the casserole to the table, as well as a loaf of bread, butter and some straight-from-the-can bean salad.

Dinner was…an odd affair. Exciting. Fun. And a little sad. It was as if he and Bethany were attempting to find new ground with each other. Only they both seemed to fear that this ground would be full of crevices and strewn with obstacles. He’d take one step forward, then freeze, afraid he’d said something that might offend her.

He noticed that Bethany didn’t find this new situation any easier than he did. She’d start to laugh, then her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, would meet his and the laugh would falter.

Following their meal, Chrissie wanted her to finish the story. Since Mitch was well aware of how the story ended, he lingered in the kitchen over a cup of coffee.

He’d just begun washing the dishes when Bethany reappeared.

“Chrissie’s decided she needs her beauty sleep,” she told him, standing at the far side of the room.

Mitch didn’t blame her for maintaining the distance between them. Every time she’d attempted to get close, he’d shoved her away. Every time she’d opened her heart to him, he’d shunned her. Yet when he’d desperately needed her, she’d been there. And although she’d accused him of settling for any woman who happened to fall into his arms,
she
was the only one who could fill the need in him.

“I imagine you want to get back home,” he said, experiencing a curious sadness. He dumped what remained of his coffee into the sink. The way her eyes flickered told him she might have enjoyed a cup had he offered one.

“Stay,” he said suddenly. “Just for a few minutes.”

The invitation seemed to hang in the air. It took her a long
time to decide; when he was about to despair, she gave him a small smile, then nodded.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

His heart reacted with a wild burst of staccato beats. He poured her a mug, grabbing a fresh one for himself. His movements were jerky, and he realized it was because he felt afraid that if he didn’t finish the task quickly enough, she might change her mind.

He carried the mugs into the living room and sat across from her. At first their conversation was awkward, but gradually the tension eased. He was astonished by how much they had to talk about. Books, movies, politics. Children. Police work. Life in Alaska. They shared myriad opinions and stories and observations.

It was as though all the difficulties between them had been wiped out and they were starting over.

Mitch laughed. He felt warm and relaxed, trusting. Alive. She seemed curious about his past, but her occasional questions were friendly, not intrusive. And she didn’t probe for more information than he was willing—or able—to give her.

He brought out a large photo album and sat next to her on the sofa, with the album resting partially on his lap and partially on hers. Mitch turned the pages, explaining each picture.

He wondered what Bethany thought about the gap in his past. It was as if their lives—his and Chrissie’s—had started when they came to Hard Luck. There wasn’t a single photograph taken any earlier than that. Not one picture of Lori.

He turned a page and his hand inadvertently brushed hers. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but when he did, it was as if something exploded inside him. For long seconds, neither moved.

Slowly Mitch’s gaze went to hers. Instead of accusation, he found approval, instead of anger, acceptance. He released his
breath, tired of fighting a battle he couldn’t win. With deliberate movements, he closed the photo album and set it aside.

“Mitch?”

“We’ll talk later,” he whispered. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and gently pulled her forward. He needed this. Ached for this.

He kissed her slowly, sweetly, teasing her lips until her head rolled back against the cushion in abject surrender.

“Mitch…” She tried once more.

He stopped her from speaking by placing his finger against her moist lips. “We both know Chrissie manipulated this meeting.”

She frowned.

“She’s no sicker than you or I.”

Bethany blinked.

“Let’s humor her.”

Her eyes darkened. “Let’s,” she agreed, and wound her arms around his neck.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Bethany said to Ben. It had taken a lot to convince him to speak to her students.

Ben had resisted, claiming he wasn’t comfortable with children, never having had any himself. But in the end Bethany’s persistence had won out.

“You did a great job,” she told him.

Ben blushed slightly. “I did, didn’t I?” He walked around the room and patted the top of each desk as if remembering who had sat where.

“The children loved hearing about your job,” she told him. “And about your life in the navy.”

“They certainly had lots of questions.”

Bethany didn’t mention that she’d primed them beforehand. She hadn’t had to encourage them much; they were familiar with Ben and fascinated by him.

Bethany wasn’t especially proud of the somewhat devious method she’d used to learn what she could of Ben’s past. Still, inviting him to speak to her students was certainly legitimate; he wasn’t the only community member she’d asked to do so. Dotty had been in the week before, and Sawyer O’Halloran had agreed to come after Thanksgiving. She found herself studying Ben now, looking for hints of her own appearance, her own personality.

“Haven’t seen much of you lately,” he said, folding his arms. He half sat on one of the desks in the front row. “Used to be you’d stop in once a day, and we’d have a nice little chat.”

“I’ve been busy lately.” In the past week, she’d been seeing a lot of Mitch and Chrissie.

“I kinda miss our talks,” Ben muttered.

“Me, too,” Bethany admitted. It was becoming increasingly difficult, she discovered, to talk to Ben about personal things. Her fear was that she’d inadvertently reveal their relationship. The temptation to tell him grew stronger with each meeting, something she hadn’t considered when she’d decided to find him.

Ben stared at her a moment as if he wasn’t sure he should go on. “I thought I saw you with Mitch Harris the other day.” It was more question than statement.

She nodded. “He drove me to the library.” He’d said he didn’t want her walking. The piercing cold continued, but temperatures weren’t as low as they’d been earlier in the week. Bethany could easily have trekked the short distance; Mitch’s driving her was an excuse—one she’d readily accepted.

“Are you two seeing each other now?”

Bethany hesitated.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Ben said, studying her. “You can tell me it’s none of my damn business if you want, and I won’t take offense. It’s just that I get customers now and again who’re curious about you.”

“Like who?”

“Like Bill Landgrin.”

“Oh.” It embarrassed her no end that she’d had dinner with the pipeline worker. He’d phoned her several times since, and the conversations had been uncomfortable. Not because of anything Bill said or did, but because she’d gone out with him for all the wrong reasons.

Bethany walked from behind her desk and over to the blackboard. “I don’t know what to tell you about Mitch and me,” she said, picking up the eraser.

Ben’s face softened with sympathy. “You sound confused.”

“I am.” It was easy to understand why people so often shared confidences with Ben; he was a good listener, never meddle-some and always encouraging.

With anyone else, Bethany would have skirted around the subject of her and Mitch, but she felt a connection with Ben—one that reached beyond the reasons she’d come to Hard Luck. It wasn’t just a connection created by her secret knowledge. Since her arrival, Ben had become her friend. That surprised her; she hadn’t expected to like him this much.

“I’m afraid I’m falling in love with Mitch,” she said in a breathless voice.

“Afraid?”