Midnight Sons Volume 2 (14 page)

“Why?”

Arguing with her was an exercise in frustration. And the amount of time he wasted worrying about her! That in itself made no sense to him. The fact was, he didn’t even
like
Mariah. The woman drove him crazy.

“I’m asking you to move in with them for a reason other than the cabin’s primitive conditions.” This, of course, wasn’t true, but he had to figure out
some
way of getting her to move. He said the first thing that came to mind.

“I…I think one or two of the women are considering leaving Hard Luck,” he lied. “We don’t want to lose them.”

“Who?”

Christian shrugged. “It’s just rumors at this point. But I need someone who can encourage them to stick out the winter. Someone the others like and trust.”

She looked at him as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him.

“The others need someone they feel comfortable with. They like you, and I think you could help.”

Mariah paused. “But I don’t feel it’s necessary for me to move in with them.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. “How often do you get a chance to talk with your friends? I can’t imagine it’s more than once a week.” He was stabbing in the dark now.

Mariah nibbled on her lower lip and seemed to be considering his words. “That’s true.”

“A few of them aren’t having an easy time adjusting to life in the Arctic. Will you do it, Mariah?” he pleaded. Heaven knew he’d tried every other means he could think of to get her to get out of that godforsaken cabin. “Will you move in with the other women?”

She hesitated. “I’ll still get the deed to the land and the cabin at the end of the year, won’t I?”

“You can have both now.” It wasn’t the first time he’d made that offer. The sooner she accomplished her goals, the sooner she’d leave Hard Luck.

“Giving me the title now wouldn’t be right. The terms of my contract state that at the end of one year I’ll be entitled to the cabin and the land. I wouldn’t dream of accepting the deed a moment sooner.”

“Then I’ll assure you in writing that the time you spend living with the other women will in no way jeopardize our agreement. You can type up the papers yourself.”

He watched her and waited. Waited while the interminable minutes passed. He couldn’t believe that one small decision would require such concentration.

“Will you or won’t you?” he demanded when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“I will,” she said, “but on one condition. I want to talk to the others first and make sure I won’t be intruding.”

Christian groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Midnight Sons is paying the rent!”

“I’m well aware of that,” Mariah said coolly.

“If I wanted to move the entire French Foreign Legion into that house, then I’d do it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Mariah said with a know-it-all grin. “First, Sawyer wouldn’t let you and—”

“It was a figure of speech.” Christian now fought the urge to pull out his hair. No one on earth could anger him as quickly as Mariah Douglas. The year she was contracted to work for him couldn’t end fast enough. Not until she left Hard Luck would he be able to sleep through the night again.

A wreath hung inside the door of the Hard Luck Café. Flashing miniature lights were strung around the windows. Christmas
cards were pinned to one wall in a straggling triangle. Bethany guessed the shape was supposed to represent a Christmas tree.

The thank-you notes the children had written following his visit to the classroom were taped against another wall for everyone who came into the café to see. The worn look of those notes told her Ben had read them countless times himself.

“It’s beginning to look downright festive around here,” Bethany said as she stepped up to the counter.

“Christmas is my favorite holiday,” Ben declared. “How about a piece of mincemeat pie to go with your coffee? It’s on the house.”

“Actually I don’t have time for either,” Bethany said regretfully. She was on her way to church for choir practice and only had a few minutes. “I came to invite you to my house for Christmas dinner.”

Ben’s mouth opened and a look of utter astonishment crossed his face. “I thought…Me? What about Mitch and Chrissie? Aren’t they spending the day with you?”

“I invited them, too. I’m sure I’m not half as good in the kitchen as you are, but I should be able to manage turkey and all the trimmings. Besides, you might enjoy tasting someone else’s cooking for a change.”

He frowned as though this was a weighty decision. “I like my turkey with sage dressing and giblet gravy.”

“You got it. My mom always stuffs the bird with sage dressing, and my dad makes giblet gravy. I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way.” When he seemed about to refuse, she added, “If you want to contribute something, you can bring one of those mincemeat pies you’re trying to fatten me up with.”

Ben turned away from her and reached for the rag. He began to wipe the already clean countertop. “I…I don’t know what to say.” His eyes continued to avoid hers.

“Just say yes. Dinner’s at three.”

He gestured weakly. “I always keep the place open.”

“Close it this year.” She almost suggested he should spend the holiday with family, but managed to stop herself. Still, she felt close to Ben; she
did
feel he was family. Perhaps this was emotionally dangerous, but being with him on Christmas Day might help ease the ache of missing her parents.

“Folks generally spend Christmas Day with family,” he said. It was as if he’d been able to read her thoughts. “I don’t have any left,” he told her in a low voice. “At least, none who’d want me dropping in unannounced at Christmas.”

“I’ll be your family, Ben,” she offered, waiting for her heart to stop its crazy beating. He had no way of knowing how much truth there was in her words. “And you can be mine. For this one day, anyhow.”

“Won’t I be in the way? I mean, with you and—”

Bethany reached for his hand. “I wouldn’t have invited you if that was the case.”

“What about you and Mitch? You two are spending a lot of time together lately—which is good,” he hastened to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mitch look happier, and what I hear is that there’s a night-and-day difference with Chrissie. She used to be a shy little thing.”

Bethany had the feeling he would’ve rambled on for an hour if she hadn’t stopped him.

“Ben!” She laughed outright. “I’m asking you to Christmas dinner. Will you come or not? I need to know how much food to prepare.”

She watched his throat work convulsively. “No one ever asked me to Christmas dinner,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Well, someone is now.”

He met her look and his eyes grew suspiciously bright. “What time do you want me there again?”

“Dinner’s at three. You come as early as you like, though.”

“All right,” he said with some difficulty. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring one of my pies.”

“Good. I’ll see you Christmas Day.” Having settled that, Bethany left the café.

“Bethany,” Ben called, “if you need any help making that gravy, you let me know.”

“I will. Thanks for offering.”

Not until she was outside, with the cold clawing at her face, did she realize there were tears in her eyes. She quickly brushed them away and hurried to the church.

Christmas was supposed to be a joyous time of year. It would be, Matt Caldwell thought, if Karen was with him. He glanced around the Anchorage church. The harder he tried not to think about his ex-wife, the more difficult it became to concentrate on the hymnbook in his hands.

Perhaps it was because the last time he’d been in this church was after his grandmother’s death. The sadness that had taken hold of his heart then hadn’t faded in the weeks since.

Matt hadn’t made church a habit of late. The fact was, he and God weren’t on the best of terms. He was quite comfortable ignoring the presence of an almighty being, since evidence of God had been sorely lacking in his life these past few years.

It didn’t help that he was once again the only family member who was alone. His parents stood on one side of him, and Lanni and Charles on the other. Those two were so much in love it was painful just being around them.

Although Lanni enjoyed her work with the
Anchorage News,
she hated the long separations from Charles. April couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

The Christmas Eve church services continued, and the members of the congregation lifted their voices in song. Matt wasn’t in any frame of mind to join in. He’d worked hard
during the past few months. Damned hard. Other than his obvious purpose of getting the lodge ready, he’d driven himself in a single-minded effort, but whether it was to impress Karen or get her out of his system, he no longer knew.

He couldn’t help wondering how his ex-wife was spending Christmas. He was pretty confident she wouldn’t have a white Christmas in California.

Was she alone, the way he was? Did she feel empty inside? Was she thinking of him?

Somehow he doubted it, considering how impulsively she’d left Alaska. It still bothered him that she hadn’t so much as told him she was moving. Instead, she’d contacted his sister, knowing Lanni would tell him.

Once the interminable singing ended, there was the predictable Christmas pageant. Despite his misery, Matt found himself smiling as the Sunday school children gave the performance they’d no doubt been rehearsing for months.

This year, instead of a doll, they had a newborn infant playing the role of the baby Jesus. This child was anything but meek and mild. In fact, he let out a scream that echoed through the church and started all the children giggling.

Well, that was what they got for using a real baby.

A baby.

He froze on the thought. Babies. Children. He glanced around the congregation and noticed a number of families with small children.

Karen had wanted children. They’d had more than one heated discussion on that subject. Matt had been against it; he didn’t feel ready for fatherhood. Not when his future and career remained unsettled. In retrospect, he could see he’d been right. Dragging a child through a divorce would’ve been criminal.

Now the likelihood of his having a family was remote at best. He discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that the realization
brought with it a new pain. Great. Just what he needed. Another resentment to harbor. Another casualty of his dead marriage. Something else to flail himself with.

He was relieved when the church service ended. At least he hadn’t been subjected to a lengthy sermon on top of the singing and the pageant.

Once they were home, his family gathered around the Christmas tree. Traditionally they opened their gifts on Christmas Eve. It had taken some doing for him to dredge up enough energy to spring for gifts, but he’d managed it.

“How about hot apple cider?” Lanni asked.

“Sure,” he said, faking a smile. It didn’t seem fair to burden everyone else with his misery.

His sister brought him a cup, then sat down next to him. Their mother was busy in the kitchen and his father was talking to Charles.

“I hoped we’d have a minute alone before opening the gifts,” Lanni whispered. She searched through the mound of gaily wrapped presents; beneath one of them she found what she was looking for. An envelope. She handed it to him.

Matt looked at his name on the envelope and instantly recognized the handwriting as Karen’s. His heart skipped a beat, and he raised his eyes to his sister’s, not sure what to think.

“How’d you get this?”

“Karen mailed a gift to me and to Mom and Dad. It was in the same package.”

“I…see.” His hand closed tightly over the envelope.

“There’s something else,” Lanni said, her gaze avoiding his.

“Yes?” He was eager to escape to his room and read what Karen had written.

“Our wedding…”

“What about it?”

“Would you mind very much if Karen served as my maid of honor?”

Matt stared at his sister, not understanding. “You want her in your wedding party?”

“Yes,” she said, then quickly added, “But only if you don’t object. I wouldn’t want it to be uncomfortable for you, Matt. You’re my brother, after all, and she was your wife—but she’s still my friend.”

“Why should I care?” he mumbled. “It’s your wedding.” With that, he left the room.

Once he was inside his old bedroom, Matt threw himself on the bed and tore open the envelope. A single sheet of paper fell from the card. Heart pounding, he unfolded it and read:

Sincerely.
She’d actually signed the note
sincerely.
As if it was some kind of business letter or he was merely a casual acquaintance. He picked up the Christmas card he’d discarded earlier and found she’d written nothing but her name.