Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ not discussing The Plan with their oldest brother. Although Charles was a full partner in the flight service, he was employed as a surveyor for Alaska Oil and was often away from Hard Luck for weeks on end. Like right now.

      When he did get home, Charles would probably think they’d all lost their minds. Sawyer wouldn’t blame him, either.

      “Well, the cabin’s ready, anyway,” Duke said with satisfaction.

      After they’d scrubbed down the walls and floors, Sawyer and a few of the men had opened up the storeroom in the lodge and dug out some of the old furniture. Sawyer had expressed doubts about sleeping on mattresses that had been tucked away for so many years, but Pearl and various other women—including several who were wives of pipeline maintenance workers—had aired everything out. They’d assured him that aside from some lingering mustiness, there was nothing to worry about. Everything had been well wrapped in plastic.

      As much as Sawyer hated to admit it, the cabin looked almost inviting. The black potbellied stove gleamed from repeated scrubbing. The women had sewn floral curtains for the one window and a matching tablecloth for the rough wooden table. The townspeople had stacked the shelves with groceries, and someone had even donated a cooler to keep perishables fresh for a few days. The single bed, made up with sun-dried linens and one thin blanket, did resemble something one might find in a prison, but Sawyer didn’t say so. Pearl and her friends had worked hard to make the cabin as welcoming as possible.

      When he’d stopped there on his way to Ben’s for breakfast, he saw that someone had placed a Mason jar of freshly cut wildflowers on the table. Right beside the kerosene lantern and the can opener.

      Well, this was as good as it got.

      “How are you going to know it’s her when she steps off the plane?” Ben asked, standing directly in front of him and watching him eat.

      “I’m wearing my Midnight Sons jacket,” Sawyer answered. “I’ll let her figure it out.”

      “What’s her name again?”

      “Abbey Sutherland.”

      “I bet she’s pretty,” Duke muttered.

      His pilots gazed sightlessly into the distance, longing written on their faces. Sawyer wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

      “I’m getting out of here before you three make me lose my breakfast.”

      “You sure you don’t want me to ride along with you?” John asked hopefully.

      “I’m sure.” Sawyer would also be bringing back the mail and a large order of canned goods for the grocery. He was flying the Baron, and he sincerely hoped Abbey Sutherland had packed light. He didn’t have room for more than two suitcases, and he intended to store those in the nose.

      Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, Sawyer headed out the door and across Hard Luck’s main street toward the runway.

      He could’ve flown into Fairbanks with his eyes closed, he’d made the flight so often. He landed, took care of loading up the mail and other freight, then—with a sense of dread—made his way to the terminal.

      After checking the monitor to make sure the flight was coming in on time, Sawyer bought a coffee and ventured out to the assigned gate.

      He was surprised by how busy the terminal was. Tourists, he guessed. Not that he was complaining. They brought a lot of money into the state. Not as much as oil did, of course, but they certainly represented a healthy part of the economy.

      Even the airport was geared toward impressing tourists, he noted. The first thing many saw when they walked in was a massive mounted polar bear, rearing up on its hind legs. Although he’d seen it a hundred times, Sawyer still felt awed by it.

      The plane arrived on schedule. Sipping coffee, Sawyer waited for the passengers to enter the terminal.

      He glanced at each one, not knowing what to expect. Christian’s description of Abbey Sutherland sure left something to be desired. From what he remembered, Christian had said she was “regular” pretty.

      Every woman he saw seemed to match that description, such as it was. With the exception of one.

      She was probably in her early thirties. She had two kids at her side. The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven, clutched a stuffed bear. The boy, perhaps two or three years older, looked as if he needed a leash to hold him back. The kid was raring to go.

      The woman wasn’t pretty, Sawyer decided, she was downright lovely. Her glossy brown hair was short and straight and fell to just below her ears. Her eyes skirted past him. He liked their warm brown color and he liked her calm manner.

      He also liked the way she protectively drew her children close as she looked around. She too, it seemed, was seeking someone.

      With a determined effort, Sawyer pulled his gaze away from her and scanned the crowd for Christian’s librarian.

      Brown hair and cute upturned nose.

      He found himself looking back at the woman with the two children. Their eyes met, and her generous mouth formed a smile. It wasn’t a shy smile or a coy one. It was open and friendly, as if she recognized him and expected him to recognize her.

      Then she walked right over to him. “Hello,” she said.

      “Hello.” Fearing he’d miss the woman he’d come to meet, his eyes slid past her to the people still disembarking from the plane.

      “I’m Abbey Sutherland.”

      Sawyer’s gaze shot back to her before dropping to the two kids.

      “These are my children, Scott and Susan,” she said. “Thank you for meeting us.”

       Three

      “Your children?” Sawyer repeated.

      “Yes,” Abbey said. It was easy to see the family resemblance between Sawyer and Christian O’Halloran, she thought. Both were tall and lean and rawboned. If he’d lived a hundred years earlier, he could’ve been on horseback, riding across some now-forgotten range in the Old West. Instead, he was flying over a large expanse of wilderness, from one fringe of civilization to another.

      Whereas Christian had been clean-shaven, Sawyer had a beard. The dark hair suited his face. His eyes were a pale shade of gray-blue, not unlike those of a husky, Scott’s favorite dog. He wore a red-checked flannel shirt under a jacket marked with the Midnight Sons logo. She suspected he had no idea how attractive he was.

      “Hi,” Scott said eagerly, looking up at Sawyer.

      The pilot held out his hand and she noticed that his eyes softened as he exchanged handshakes with her son. “Pleased to meet you, Scott.”

      “Alaska sure is big.”

      “That it is. Hello, Susan,” Sawyer said next, holding out his hand to her daughter. The girl solemnly shook it, then glanced at Abbey and smiled, clearly delighted with this gesture of grown-up respect.

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