Midnight Sons Volume 2 (2 page)

September 1995

The new schoolteacher wouldn’t last.

It didn’t take Mitch Harris more than five seconds to make that assessment. Bethany Ross didn’t belong in Alaska. She reminded him of a tropical bird with its brilliant plumage. Everything about her was
vivid,
from her animated expression to her sun-bleached hair, which fell to her shoulders in a frothy mass of blond. Even blonder curls framed her classic features. Her eyes were a deep, rich shade of chocolate.

She wore a bright turquoise jumpsuit with a wide yellow band that circled her trim waist. One of her skimpy multicolored sandals dangled from her foot as she sat on the arm of Abbey and Sawyer O’Halloran’s sofa, her legs elegantly crossed.

This get-together was in her honor. Abbey and Sawyer had invited the members of the school board to their home to meet the new teacher.

To Mitch’s surprise, she stood and approached him before
he had a chance to introduce himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Her smile was warm and natural. “I’m Bethany Ross.”

“Mitch Harris.” He didn’t elaborate. Details wouldn’t be necessary because Ms. Ross simply wouldn’t last beyond the first snowfall. “Welcome to Hard Luck,” he said almost as an afterthought.

“Thank you.”

“When did you get here?” he asked, trying to make conversation. He twisted the stem of his wineglass and watched the chardonnay swirl against the sides.

“I flew in this afternoon.”

He hadn’t realized she’d only just arrived. “You must be exhausted.”

“Not really,” she was quick to tell him. “I suppose I should be, considering that I left San Francisco early this morning. The fact is, I’ve been keyed up for days.”

Mitch suspected Hard Luck was a sorry disappointment to her. The town, population 150, was about as far from the easy California lifestyle as a person could get. Situated fifty miles north of the Arctic Circle, Hard Luck was a fascinating place with a strong and abiding sense of community. People here lived hard and worked harder. Besides Midnight Sons, the flight service owned and operated by the three O’Halloran brothers, there were a few small businesses, like Ben Hamilton’s café. Mitch himself was one of a handful of state employees. He worked for the Department of the Interior, monitoring visitors to Gate of the Arctic National Park. This was in addition to his job as the town’s public safety officer—PSO—which meant he was responsible for policing in Hard Luck. Trappers wandered into town now and then, as did the occasional pipeline worker. To those living on the edge of the world, Hard Luck was a thriving metropolis.

Lately the town had piqued the interest of the rest of the
country, as well. But Bethany Ross had nothing to do with that. Thank heaven, although Mitch figured she’d stay about as long as some of the women the O’Halloran brothers had brought to town.

Until recently only a small number of women had lived here. Not many were willing to endure the hardship of being this far from civilization. So the O’Hallorans had spearheaded a campaign to bring women to Hard Luck. Abbey was one of their notable successes, but there’d been a few equally notable failures. Like—who was it?—Allison somebody. The one who’d lasted less than twenty-four hours. And just last week, two women had arrived, only to return home on the next flight out. Bethany Ross had actually applied for the teaching job last spring, before all this nonsense.

Unexpectedly she smiled—a ravishing smile that seemed to say she’d read his thoughts. “I plan to fulfill my contract, Mr. Harris. I knew what I was letting myself in for when I agreed to teach in Alaska.”

Mitch felt the heat rise to his ears. “I didn’t realize my…feelings were so transparent.”

“I don’t blame you for doubting me. I don’t exactly blend in with the others, do I?”

He was tempted to smile himself. “Hard Luck isn’t what you expected, is it?”

“I’ll adjust.”

She said this with such confidence he began to wonder if he’d misjudged her.

“Frankly, I didn’t know
what
to expect. With Hard Luck in the news so often, the idea of moving here was beginning to worry me.”

Mitch didn’t bother to conceal his amusement. He’d read what some of the tabloids had written about the town and the men’s scheme to lure women north.

“My dad was against my coming,” Bethany continued. “It was all I could do to keep him from flying up here with me. He seems to think Hard Luck’s populated with nothing but love-starved bush pilots.”

“He isn’t far wrong,” Mitch said wryly. If Bethany had only been in town a few hours, she probably hadn’t met the pilots currently employed by Midnight Sons. He knew Sawyer had flown her in from Fairbanks.

It was after repeatedly losing their best pilots for lack of female companionship that the O’Hallorans had decided to take action.

“Midnight Sons is the flight service? Owned by the O’Hallorans?” she asked, looking flustered. “Sawyer and his brothers?”

“That’s right.” Mitch understood why she was confused. Immediately following her arrival, she’d been thrust into the middle of this party, with twenty or more names being thrown her way all at once. In an effort to help her, Mitch explained that Charles O’Halloran, the oldest of the three brothers, was a silent partner.

Charles hadn’t been so silent, however, when he learned about the scheme Sawyer and Christian had concocted to lure women to Hard Luck. Still, he’d changed his tune since meeting Lanni Caldwell. Earlier in the week, they’d announced their engagement.

“Is it true that Abbey—Sawyer’s wife—was the first woman to come here?” Her eyes revealed her curiosity.

“Yes. They got married this summer.”

“But…they look like they’ve been married for years. What about Scott and Susan?”

“They’re Abbey’s children from a previous marriage. I understand Sawyer’s already started the adoption process.” Mitch envied his friend’s happiness. Marriage hadn’t been nearly as happy an experience for him.

“Chrissie’s your daughter?” Bethany asked, glancing over at the children gathered around a Monopoly game.

Mitch’s gaze fell fondly on his seven-year-old daughter. “Yes. And she’s been on pins and needles waiting for school to start.”

Bethany’s eyes softened. “I met her earlier with Scott and Susan. She’s a delightful little girl.”

“Thank you.” Mitch tried hard to do his best for Chrissie, though sometimes he wondered whether his best would ever be enough. “You’ve met Pete Livengood?” he asked, gesturing toward a rugged-looking middle-aged man on the other side of the room.

“Yes. He owns the grocery?”

“That he does. Dotty, the woman on his left, is another one who answered the advertisement.”

Bethany blinked as if trying to remember where Dotty fit into the small community. “She’s the nurse?”

He nodded. “Pete and Dotty plan to be married shortly. The first week of October, I believe.”

“So soon?” She didn’t give him an opportunity to answer before directing her attention elsewhere. “What about Mariah Douglas? Is she a recent addition to the town?”

“Yup. She’s the secretary for Midnight Sons.”

“Is she engaged?”

“Not yet,” Mitch said, “but it’s still pretty early. She just got here last month.”

“You mean to say she’s lived here an entire month without getting married?” Bethany teased. “That must be some sort of record. It seems to me the virile young men of Hard Luck are slacking in their duties.”

Mitch grinned. “From what I’ve heard, it isn’t for lack of trying. But Mariah says she didn’t come to Hard Luck looking for a husband. She’s after the cabin and the twenty acres the O’Hallorans promised her.”

“Good for her. They’ve fulfilled their part of the bargain, haven’t they? I read that news story about the cabins not being anywhere near the twenty acres. Sure sounds misleading to me.” Fire flashed briefly in her eyes, as if she’d be willing to take on all three O’Hallorans herself.

“That’s none of my business. It’s between Mariah and the O’Hallorans.”

Bethany flushed with embarrassment and bent her head to take a sip of her wine. “It isn’t my business, either. It’s just that Mariah seems so sweet. I hate the idea of anyone taking advantage of her.”

They were interrupted by Sawyer and Abbey. “I see you’ve met Mitch,” Sawyer said, moving next to Bethany.

“He’s been helping me keep everyone straight,” she told him with a quick smile.

“Then he’s probably mentioned that in addition to his job with the Department of the Interior, he’s our public safety officer.”

“Hard Luck’s version of the law,” Mitch translated for her.

“My father’s a member of San Francisco’s finest,” she murmured.

“Well,” Sawyer said, “Mitch was one of Chicago’s finest before moving here.”

“That’s right,” Mitch supplied absently.

“I imagine your head’s swimming about now,” Abbey said. “I know mine was when I first arrived. Oh—” she waved at a woman just coming in the door “—here’s Margaret. Margaret Simpson, the high school teacher.”

Margaret, a pleasant-looking brunette in her thirties, joined them. She greeted Bethany with friendly enthusiasm, explained that she lived on the same street as Sawyer and Abbey did and that her husband was a pipeline supervisor who worked three weeks on and three weeks off.

Mitch hardly heard the conversation between Margaret and
Bethany; the words seemed to fade into the background as he found himself studying Bethany Ross.

He wanted to know her better, but he wouldn’t allow himself that luxury. Although she claimed otherwise, he didn’t expect her to last three months, not once the brutal winter settled in.

But she intrigued him. Tantalized him. The reasons could be as basic as the fact that he’d been too long without a woman—six years to be exact. He’d buried Lori when Chrissie was little more than an infant. Unable to face life in Chicago, he’d packed their bags and headed north. As far north as he could get. He’d known at the time that he was running away. But he’d felt he had no choice, not with guilt and his own self-doubts nipping at his heels. He was out of money and tired of life on the road by the time he reached Hard Luck.

And he’d been happy here. As happy as possible, under the circumstances. He and Chrissie had made a new life for themselves, made new friends. For Mitch, the world had become calm and orderly again, without pain or confusion. Without a woman in their lives.

He certainly hadn’t expected to meet a woman like Bethany—a tropical bird—in Alaska.

She wasn’t precisely beautiful, he decided. She was…striking. He struggled to put words to her attributes. Feminine. Warm. Generous. Somewhat outrageous. Fun. The kids would love her. He’d spent ten, possibly fifteen, minutes chatting with her and wanted more of her time, more of her attention.

But he refused to indulge himself. He’d learned all the lessons he ever wanted to learn from his dead wife. The new schoolteacher could tutor some other man.

Bethany yawned and tried to hide it behind the back of her hand.

“You must be exhausted,” Abbey said sympathetically. “I can’t believe we’ve kept you this long. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please, it was wonderful of you to make me feel so welcome.” To her obvious chagrin, Bethany yawned again. “But maybe I should leave now.”

“She’s dead on her feet,” Sawyer said to no one in particular. “Mitch, would you be kind enough to escort her home?”

“Of course.” He set down his wineglass, but truth be known, he’d rather have declined. He was about to suggest someone else do the honors when he realized Bethany might find that insulting.

She studied him, and again he had the impression she could read his mind. He looked away and searched the room until he found his daughter. Chrissie was sitting near the door to the kitchen with her best friend, Susan. The two were deep in conversation, their heads close together. He didn’t know what they were discussing, but whatever it was seemed terribly important. Yet another scheme to outsmart the adults, no doubt. Heaven save him from little girls.

He turned to Bethany Ross. “If you’ll excuse me a moment?” he asked politely.

“Of course. I’ll need a few minutes myself.”

While Mitch collected Chrissie, Bethany bade the members of the school board good-night.

They met just outside the front door. He didn’t have to ask where she lived—the teacher’s living quarters were supplied by the state and were some of the best accommodations in town. The small two-bedroom house was located on the far side of the school gymnasium.

Mitch held open the passenger door so Chrissie could climb into the truck first. He noticed how quiet his daughter had become, as if she was in awe of this woman who would be her teacher.

“I appreciate the ride,” Bethany told him once he’d started the engine.

“It’s no trouble.” It was, but not because of the extra few minutes’ driving. But then he decided he might as well let himself enjoy her company, since the opportunity was unlikely to be repeated. Once the eligible men in Hard Luck caught sight of her, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Which was probably a good thing…

“Would you mind driving me around a bit?” Bethany asked. “I didn’t get much of a chance to see the town earlier.”