Instead of being excited about her dinner date, she was bemoaning the fact that it wasn’t Mitch taking her out. It was time to face reality: he wasn’t interested in seeing her. She told herself it didn’t matter. There were plenty of other fish in the sea. But her little pep talk fell decidedly flat.

  Because John was afraid he might get back late from a flight into Fairbanks, he’d asked if they could meet at the Hard Luck Café. Bethany didn’t object. She showered and changed into a knee-length, chocolate-brown skirt, an extra-long, loose-knit beige sweater and calf-length brown leather boots. To dress up the outfit, she wove a silk scarf into her French braid. She looked good and she knew it. Her one regret was that Mitch wouldn’t see her. She’d like him to know what he was missing!

  To her astonishment, there were only two other people in the café when she arrived. The men, whom she didn’t recognize, were deeply engrossed in conversation. They sat drinking beer at one of the tables.

  “My, my, don’t you look pretty,” Ben hailed her when she took a seat in a booth near the window. Apparently he knew she was meeting John, because he filled two water glasses and tucked a couple of menus under his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  “I heard John’s got his eye on you.”

  Bethany didn’t comment. Although she’d been in the café a number of times since her first visit, she was never completely comfortable with Ben. She’d moved to Hard Luck with an open mind about him. She had no plan other than getting to know this man who’d fathered her.

  She’d learned about him only a year ago. Despite the initial shock, this new knowledge didn’t change her feelings toward either her mother or Peter Ross. She just wanted to discover for herself what kind of man Ben Hamilton was. She certainly didn’t intend to interfere in his life. Nor did she intend to embarrass him with the truth. The year might well come to a close without his ever finding out who she was.

  In all honesty, Bethany couldn’t think of a way to casually announce that she was his daughter. For a giddy moment, she was tempted to throw open her arms and call him Daddy. But no—he’d never been that.

  Ben lingered at the table. “If you want the truth, I was surprised you were coming here with John.”

  “Really.” Bethany picked up her water glass.

  “I kinda thought you were sweet on Mitch.”

  The glass hit the table with an unexpected thunk, garnering the attention of the restaurant’s two other occupants.

  Ben rubbed the side of his face. “What I’ve seen, Mitch is taken with you, as well.”

  Bethany stared down at the table and swallowed nervously. “I’m sure that isn’t true.”

  Low laughter rumbled in Ben’s chest. “I’ve seen the way you two send looks at each other. I’m not blind, you know. Yes, sir, I see plenty—lots more than people think.” He tapped his finger against his temple to emphasize the point. “I might be a crusty old bachelor, but I—”

  “You never got married?” she interrupted him.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” She turned the conversation away from herself, at the same time attempting to learn what she could about his life.

  “I guess you could say I never found the right woman.”

  His answer irritated Bethany. Her mother was one of the finest women she’d ever known. The desire to defend her mother, tell this character about the heartache he’d caused, burned in the pit of her stomach.

  “How…how long have you been in Alaska?” she asked instead.

  Ben seemed to need time to calculate his answer. “It must be twenty years now. The O’Halloran boys were still wet behind the ears when I made my way here.”

  “Why Hard Luck?” she asked.

  “Why not? It was as good a place as any. Besides,” he said, flashing her a grin, “there’s something to be said for having the only restaurant within a four-hundred-mile radius.”

  Bethany laughed.

  The door opened and John Henderson rushed in, a little breathless and a whole lot flustered. He hurried over to the table, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. He seemed speechless.

  “Hello again,” Bethany said.

  John remained standing there, his mouth open.

  Ben slapped him on the back. “Aren’t you going to thank me for keeping her company?”

  John jerked his head around as if suddenly noticing Ben. “Uh, thanks, Ben.”

  “No problem.” He turned to walk back to the kitchen, but before he did, Bethany’s eye caught his and they shared a secret smile. For the first time Bethany felt she’d truly communicated with the man she’d come three thousand miles to meet.

  Dinner turned out to be more of an ordeal than Bethany had expected. By the time he’d paid for their meal, Bethany actually felt sorry for John. During the course of their dinner, he’d dripped gravy down the front of his shirt, knocked over the sugar canister and spilled his coffee, most of which landed on her skirt. The man was clearly a nervous wreck.

  “I’ll walk you home,” John said.

  She waited until they were outside before she thanked him. Although they were only halfway through September, there was a decided coolness, and the hint of snow hung in the air. Bethany was glad she’d worn her coat.

  “Thank you, John, for a lovely evening.”

  The pilot buried his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m sorry about the coffee.”

  “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “What about your skirt?”

  “Don’t worry—I’m sure it’ll wash out.”

  “You didn’t get burned?”

  She’d assured him she hadn’t at least a dozen times. “I’m fine, John, really.”

  “I want you to know I’m not normally this clumsy.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “It’s just that it isn’t often a woman as beautiful as you agrees to have dinner with me.”

  There was something touching about this pilot, something endearing. “What a sweet thing to say. Thank you.”

  “Women like to hear that kind of stuff, don’t they?” John asked. “About being pretty and all.”

  Bethany hesitated, wondering where the conversation was heading. “I think it’s safe to say we do.”

  It was difficult to keep from smiling. With someone else, she might have been irritated or worse. But not with John. Besides, the evening was so beautiful. The sky danced with a brilliant display of stars, and the northern lights seemed to sizzle just over the horizon. Bethany couldn’t stop gazing up at the heavens.

  “Is it always this beautiful here?”

  “Yup,” John said without hesitation. “But then they say that beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.”

  “That’s true.” Bethany shrugged, a little puzzled.

  “It won’t be long now before the rivers freeze,” he explained soberly.

  “So soon?”

  “Yup. We’re likely to have snow anytime.”

  Bethany could hardly believe it. “Really?”

  “This is the Arctic, Bethany.”

  “But it seems as if I just got here. It’s still summer at home.”

  “Maybe in California, but not here.” He looked worried. “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”

  “No. I signed a contract for this school year. Don’t worry, I’m not going to break my commitment because of a little snow and ice.”

  They strolled past the school, and she glanced at the building with a sense of pride. She already loved her job and her students.

  Soon her house was in sight. Bethany was deciding how to handle the awkwardness that might develop when they reached her front door. She didn’t plan to invite John in.

  “Thank you,” Bethany said again when at last they stood on the stoop.

  “The evening would’ve been better if I hadn’t…you know.”

  “Stop worrying about a little coffee.”

  “Don’t forget the sugar.” He grinned as if he’d begun to find the entire episode amusing.

  “Despite a few, uh, mishaps, I really did enjoy dinner,” she told him.

  John kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “I don’t suppose you’d go out with me again.”

  Bethany wasn’t sure how to respond. She liked John, but just as a friend, and she didn’t want to mislead him into thinking something more could develop between them. She’d made that mistake once before.

  “You don’t need to feel guilty if you don’t want to,” he said, his eyes avoiding hers. He cleared his throat. “I can understand why someone hand-delivered by the angels wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like me.” He glanced shyly at her.

  Tempted to roll her eyes at that remark, Bethany managed a smile. “How about if we have dinner again next Friday night?” she asked.

  John’s head shot up. “You mean it?”

  Bethany nodded. “This time it’ll be my treat.”

  His smile faded and he folded his arms across his chest. “You want to buy me dinner?”

  “Yes. Friends do that, you know.” A car could be heard in the distance, driving slowly down the street.

  “Friends?” The car was coming closer.

  “Yes.” She leaned forward and very gently pressed her lips to his cheek. As she backed away, she saw that the car had stopped.

  Silhouetted against the moonlight sat Mitch Harris. He’d just witnessed her kissing John Henderson.

  Chapter 4

  October 1995

  The first snowfall of the year came in the third week of September. Thick flurries drifted down throughout the day, covering the ground and obscuring familiar outlines. Mitch thought he should’ve been accustomed to winter’s debut by now, but he wasn’t. However beautiful, however serene, this soft-looking white blanket was only a foretaste of the bitter cold to follow.

  He looked at his watch. In a few minutes he’d walk over to the school to meet Chrissie. He’d gotten into the habit of picking up his daughter on Friday afternoons.

  Not because she needed him or had asked him to come. No, he wryly suspected that going to the school was rooted in some masochistic need to see Bethany.

  He rationalized that he was giving Chrissie this extra attention because he worked longer hours on Friday evenings, when Diane Hestead, a high school student, stayed with her. That was the only night of the week Ben served alcohol. Before the women had arrived, a few of the pilots and maybe a trapper or two wandered into the Hard Luck Café. But with the news of women coming to town, Ben’s place had begun to fill up, not only with pilots but pipeline workers and other men.

  For the past three Friday nights, John Henderson and Bethany had dined at the café. They came and left before eight, when Ben opened the bar.

  From the gossip circulating around town, Mitch learned they’d become something of an item, although both insisted they were “only friends.”

  Mitch knew otherwise. On Bethany’s first date with John, he’d happened upon them kissing. Friends indeed! Even now, his gut tightened at the memory.

  For the thousandth time he reminded himself that he’d been the one to encourage her to see John. He couldn’t very well reveal his discontent with that situation when she’d done nothing more than follow his advice.

  He’d tried to convince himself that discovering John and Bethany together—kissing—had been sheer coincidence. But it hadn’t been.

  As the public safety officer, Mitch routinely checked the streets on Friday nights. He’d seen them leave Ben’s place on foot that first evening and had discreetly followed them. On subsequent Fridays he’d continued his spy tactics, always making sure he was out of sight. He wasn’t particularly proud of himself, but he found it impossible to resist the compulsion.

  Except for their first date, when he’d seen them kissing outside her house, she’d invited John in. The pilot never stayed more than a few minutes, but of course Mitch knew what the two of them were doing.

  He kept telling himself he should be pleased she was dating John; Henderson was a decent sort. But Mitch wasn’t pleased. At night he lay awake staring at the four shrinking walls of his bedroom. Still, he knew it wasn’t the walls that locked him in, that kept him from building a relationship with Bethany.

  It was his guilt, his own doubts and fears, that came between him and Bethany. This was Lori’s legacy to him. She’d died and in that moment made certain he’d never be free of her memory.

  Mitch checked his watch a second time and decided to head over to the school. The phone rang as he closed and locked the door, but he resisted the temptation to answer it. The machine would pick up the message, and he’d deal with the call when he returned to the office.

  Mitch could hear excited laughter in the distance as the children frolicked in the snow. Chrissie loved playing outside, although there’d be precious little of that over the next few months.

  By the time Christmas came, Hard Luck would be in total darkness. But with the holidays to occupy people’s minds and lift their spirits, the dark days didn’t seem nearly as depressing as they might have.

  Mitch had just rounded the corner to the school when he saw Bethany. She was half trotting with her head bowed against the wind, her steps filled with frantic purpose. She glanced up and saw him and stopped abruptly.

  “Mitch.” Her hand pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, and he noticed for the first time how pale she was. “It’s Chrissie. She’s been hurt.”

  The words hit Mitch like a fist. He ran toward her and gripped her by the elbows. “What happened?”

  “She fell on the ice and cut herself. The school tried to call you, but you’d already left the office.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At the clinic…” Bethany’s voice quavered precariously. “I knew you were probably on your way to the school. Oh, Mitch, I’m so afraid.”

  It was bad. It had to be, otherwise Bethany wouldn’t be this pale, this frightened. Panic galvanized him and he began running toward the clinic. He’d gone half a block before he realized that Bethany was behind him, her feet slipping and sliding on the snow. Fearing she might stumble and fall, he turned back and stretched out a hand to her. She grasped his fingers with surprising strength.

  Together they hurried toward the clinic. It couldn’t have taken them more than two or three minutes to reach the building, but it felt like a lifetime to Mitch. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Chrissie. His daughter, his joy. She’d given his life purpose after Lori’s death. She’d given him a reason to live.

  He jerked open the clinic door, and the first thing he saw was blood. Crimson droplets on the floor. Chrissie’s blood. He stopped cold as icy fingers crept along his backbone.

  Dotty Harlow, the nurse who’d replaced Pearl Inman, was nowhere in sight; neither was Angie Hughes.

  “Dotty!” he called urgently.

  “Daddy.” Chrissie moaned his name, and the sound of her pain pierced his heart.

  Dotty stepped out of a cubicle in the back. Her soothing voice calmed his panic as she explained that Chrissie had required a couple of stitches, which she was qualified to do.

  Angie, who’d been talking to Chrissie, stepped aside when he came into the room. Chrissie sniffled loudly and her small arms circled his neck; when she spoke, her words came in a staccato hiccupping voice. “I…fell…and cut my leg real…bad.”

  “You’re going to be fine, pumpkin.” He pressed his hand to the side of her sweet face and laid his cheek on her hair.

  “I want Ms. Ross.”

  “I’m here,” Bethany whispered from behind Mitch.

  Chrissie stretched out her arms and Bethany hugged her close. Watching the two of them together threatened his resolve, as nothing else could have, to guard his heart against this woman.

  “You were very brave,” Dotty told Chrissie, as she put away the medical supplies, and Bethany helped his daughter back into her torn jeans.

  “I tried not to cry,” Chrissie said, tears glistening in her eyes, “but it hurt too bad.”

  “She’s going to need to take this medication,” Dotty said, distracting Mitch. The nurse rattled off a list of complicated-sounding instructions. Possibly because he looked confused and uncertain, Dotty wrote everything down and reviewed it with him a second time.

  “I can take her home?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Dotty said. “If you have any questions, feel free to call me or Angie.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  “Can I go home now?” Chrissie asked.

  “We’re on our way, pumpkin.”

  “I want Ms. Ross to come with us. Please, Daddy, I want Ms. Ross.”

  Any argument he might have offered died at the pleading note in Chrissie’s voice. There was very little he could have denied his daughter in that moment.

  When they arrived at the house and went inside, Chrissie climbed on Bethany’s lap, and soon her eyelids drifted shut.

  “How’d it happen?” Mitch asked tersely, sitting across from Bethany. Even now, the thought of losing his child made him go cold with the worst fear he’d ever experienced. When he’d found Lori dead, he hadn’t felt the panic that overcame him when a terrified Bethany had told him his daughter was hurt.

  “I’m not sure,” Bethany said. “As she always does on Fridays, Chrissie offered to clean the boards and erasers. My guess is that she took them outside and slipped. She must have cut her leg on the side of the Dumpster. One of the other children came running to get me.”

  “Thank God you were close at hand.”

  Bethany squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. When she opened them again, he noticed how warm and gentle they were as she looked down at Chrissie. “I don’t mind telling you, it shook me, finding her like that,” Bethany admitted. “You have a very special child, Mitch.”

  “I know.” And he did. He felt a strange and unfamiliar blend of emotions as he gazed at the two of them together. One he loved beyond life itself. The other he wanted to love, and couldn’t. He had nothing to offer her—not his heart, not marriage. And it was because he’d failed Lori, just as she’d failed herself. And failed him, failed her daughter. Day in and day out, his wife had grown more desperate, more unhappy. After Chrissie’s birth, she’d fallen into depression. Nothing he said or did seemed to help, and he realized now that he hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t understood the reality of her despair. Mitch blamed himself; his lack of awareness had cost Lori her life.