Alaska Skies

“True,” Sawyer agreed warily.

“So, like I said before, we’ve got to offer these women some incentive to live and work in Hard Luck.”

“You want to give them the cabins?” Sawyer scratched his head. “As an incentive?”

“Sure. Then if they want to bring in electricity and running water they can do it with their own money.”

Sawyer checked around to see what the others were thinking. He couldn’t find a dissenting look among them. Not on Ben’s face and certainly not on any of the others. He should’ve known Christian’s idea would take root in the fertile minds of his women-starved men.

“We’d clean up the cabins a bit first,” Christian said as though this was the least they could do.

“We found a bear in one of them last year,” Sawyer reminded his brother.

“That bear didn’t mean any harm,” Ralph said confidently. “He was just having a look around, is all. I doubt he’ll be back after the shot of pepper spray Mitch gave him.”

Sawyer just shook his head, bemused.

“But it might not be smart to mention the bear to any of the women,” Ben was quick to add. “Women are funny about wild critters.”

“Yeah,” John said in hushed tones, “take my word for it—don’t say anything about the wildlife.”

“Say anything?” Sawyer asked. The men made it sound like he was going to personally interview each applicant.

“To the women when you talk to them,” Ralph explained with exaggerated patience.

“I’m going to be talking to these women?”

“Why, sure,” Duke said, as if that had been understood from the beginning. “You’ll have to interview them, you or Christian. Especially if you’re going to offer them housing when they accept a job in Hard Luck.”

“You’d better throw in some land while you’re at it,” Ben said, reaching for the coffeepot. He refilled the mugs and set the pot back on the burner. “You O’Hallorans got far more of it than you know what to do with. Offer the women a cabin and twenty acres of land if they’ll live and work in Hard Luck for one year.”

“Great idea!”

“Just like the old days when the settlers first got here.”

“Those cabins aren’t on any twenty acres.” Sawyer raised his arms to stop the discussion. “It’d be misleading to let anyone think they were, or that—”

“No one said the cabins had to be on acreage, did they?” Duke broke in. “Besides, to my way of thinking, people shouldn’t look a gift house in the mouth.” He chuckled at his own feeble joke. “House, get it? Not horse.”

“A year sounds fair,” Christian said decisively, ignoring him. “If it doesn’t work out, then they’re free to leave, no hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings.” John nodded happily.

“Now, just a minute,” Sawyer said. Was he the only one here who possessed any sense? He’d come into the Hard Luck Café for a simple cup of coffee, discouraged by the news that Phil was leaving. The morning had rapidly gone from bad to worse.

“How are we going to let women know about your offer?” Ralph asked.

“We’ll run some ads like we said,” Christian told him. “But maybe not in magazines. That’ll take too long. I’ve got a business trip planned to Seattle, so we can put ads in the papers there and I’ll interview the women who apply.”

“Hold on,” Sawyer said, frowning. “We can’t go giving away those cabins, never mind the acreage, without talking to Charles first. Besides, there are antidiscrimination laws that make it illegal to advertise a job for women only.”

Christian grinned. “There’re ways around that.”

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “But we really do need to discuss this with Charles.” Their oldest brother was a silent partner in the O’Hallorans’ air charter service. He should have a voice in this decision; after all, they’d be giving away family-owned cabins and land.

“There isn’t time for that,” Christian argued. “Charles’ll go along with it. You know he will. He hasn’t paid that much attention to the business since he started working for Alaska Oil.”

“You’d better have an attorney draw up some kind of contract,” Ben suggested.

“Right.” Christian added that to his list. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll write the ad this morning and see about getting it in the Seattle paper. It might be best if we placed it in another city, as well. It wouldn’t be much trouble to go down to Oregon and interview women from Portland. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Hey, good idea,” John murmured.

“I’ll design the application,” Sawyer said reluctantly. This was happening much too fast. “You know, guys...” He hated to throw another wrench in the works, but someone needed a clear head, and it was obvious he’d been elected. “If any woman’s foolish enough to respond, those old cabins had better be in decent shape. It’s going to take a lot of work.”

“I’ll help,” John said enthusiastically.

“Me, too.”

“I expect we all will.” Duke drained the last of his coffee, then narrowed his gaze on Christian. “Just make sure you get a blonde for me.”

“A blonde,” Christian repeated.

Sawyer closed his eyes and groaned. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

One

It had been one of those days. Abbey Sutherland made herself a cup of tea, then sat in the large overstuffed chair and propped her feet on the ottoman. She closed her eyes, soaking in the silence.

The morning had started badly when Scott overslept, which meant he and Susan had missed the school bus. Seven-year-old Susan had insisted on wearing her pink sweater, which was still in the dirty-clothes hamper, and she’d whined all the way to school. Abbey had driven them, catching every red light en route.

By the time she arrived at the library, she was ten minutes late. Mrs. Duffy gave her a look that could have curdled milk.

But those minor irritations faded after lunch. Abbey received notice that the library’s budget for the next fiscal year had been reduced and two positions would be cut—the positions held by the most recently hired employees. In other words, Abbey was going to lose her job in less than three months.

She finally got home at six o’clock, tired, short-tempered and depressed. That was when Mr. Erickson, the manager of the apartment complex, hand-delivered a note informing her the rents were being raised.

It was the kind of day even hot fudge couldn’t salvage.

Sensing her mood, the kids had acted up all evening. Abbey was exhausted, and she didn’t think reruns of Matlock were going to help.

Sipping her tea, she wondered what had happened to throw her life off course. She had a savings account, but there wasn’t enough in it to pay more than a month’s worth of bills. She refused to go to her parents for money. Not again. It had been too humiliating the first time, although they’d been eager to help. Not once had her mother or father said “I told you so,” when she filed for divorce, although they’d issued plenty of warnings when she’d announced her intention to marry Dick Sutherland. They’d been right. Five years and two children later, Abbey had returned to Seattle emotionally battered, brokenhearted and just plain broke.

Her parents had helped her back on her feet despite their limited income and lent her money to finish her education. Abbey had painstakingly repaid every penny, but it had taken her almost three years.

The newspaper, still rolled up, lay at her feet, and she picked it up. She might as well start reading through the want ads now, although she wasn’t likely to find another job as an assistant librarian. With cuts in local government spending, positions in libraries were becoming rare these days. But if she was willing to relocate...

“Mom.” Scott stood beside her chair.

“Yes?” She climbed out of her depression long enough to manage a smile for her nine-year-old son.

“Jason’s dog had her puppies.”

Abbey felt her chest tighten. Scott had been asking for a dog all year. “Honey, we’ve already been over this a hundred times. The apartment complex doesn’t allow pets.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” he said defensively. “All I said was that Jason’s dog had puppies. I know I can’t have a dog as long as we live here, but I was thinking that maybe with the rent increase we might move.”

“And if we do move,” Abbey said, “you want me to look for a place where we can have a dog.”

Her son grinned broadly. “Jason’s puppies are really, really cute, Mom. And they’re valuable, too! But you know what kind are my favorite?”

She did, but she played along. “Tell me.”

“Huskies.”

“Because the University of Washington mascot is a husky.”

“Yeah. They have cool eyes, don’t they? And I really like the way their tails loop up. I know they’re too big for me to have as a pet, but I still like them best.”

Abbey held out her arm to her son. He didn’t cuddle with her much anymore. That was kid stuff to a boy who was almost ten. But tonight he seemed willing to forget that.

He clambered into the chair next to her, rested his head against her shoulder and sighed. “I’m sorry I overslept this morning,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s all right.” There was a pause. “I promise to get out of bed when you call from now on, okay?”

“Okay.” Abbey closed her eyes, breathing in the clean shampoo scent of his hair.

They sat together for a few more minutes, saying nothing.

“You’d better get back to bed,” Abbey said, although she was reluctant to see him go.

Scott climbed out of the chair. “Are we going to move?” he asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

“I guess we are,” she said and smiled.

“’Night, Mom.” Scott smiled, too, then walked down the hall to his bedroom.

Abbey’s heart felt a little lighter as she picked up the paper and peeled off the rubber band. She didn’t bother to look at the front page, but turned directly to the classifieds.

The square box with the large block printing attracted her attention immediately. “LONELY MEN IN HARD LUCK, ALASKA, OFFER JOBS, HOMES AND LAND.” Below in smaller print was a list of the positions open.

Abbey’s heart stopped when she saw “librarian.”

Hard Luck, Alaska. Jobs. A home with land. Twenty acres. Good grief, that was more than her grandfather had owned when he grew raspberries in Puyallup a generation earlier.

Dragging out an atlas, Abbey flipped through the pages until she found Alaska. Her finger ran down the list of town names until she came across Hard Luck. Population 150.

She swallowed. A small town generally meant a sense of community. That excited her. As a girl, she’d spent summers on her grandparents’ farm and loved it. She wanted to give her children the same opportunity. She was sure the three of them could adjust to life in a small town. In Alaska.

Using the atlas’s directions to locate the town, Abbey drew her finger across one side of the page and down the other.

Her excitement died. Hard Luck was above the Arctic Circle. Oh, dear. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea, after all.

* * *

The following morning, Abbey reviewed her options.

She set out a box of cold cereal, along with a carton of milk. A still-sleepy Scott and Susan pulled out chairs and sat at the table.

“Kids,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “what would you say if I suggested we move to Alaska?”

“Alaska?” Scott perked up right away. “That’s where they have huskies!”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s cold there, isn’t it?” Susan asked.

“Very cold. Colder than it’s ever been in Seattle.”

“Colder than Texas?”

“Lots colder,” Scott said in a superior older-brother tone. “It’s so cold you don’t even need refrigerators, isn’t that right, Mom?”

“Uh, I think they probably still use them.”

“But they wouldn’t need to if they didn’t have electricity. Right?”

“Right.”

“Could I have a dog there?”

Abbey weighed her answer carefully. “We’d have to find that out after we arrived.”

“Would Grandma and Grandpa come and visit?” Susan asked.

“I’m sure they would, and if they didn’t, we could visit them.”

Scott poured cereal into his bowl until it threatened to spill over.

“I read an ad in the paper last night. Hard Luck, Alaska, needs a librarian, and it looks like I’m going to need a new job soon.”

Scott and Susan didn’t comment.

“I didn’t think it would be fair to call and ask for an interview without discussing it with both of you first.”

“You should go for it,” Scott advised, but Abbey could see visions of huskies in her son’s bright blue eyes.

“It’ll mean a big change for all of us.”

“Is there snow all the time?” Susan wanted to know.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll ask.” Abbey hesitated, wondering exactly how much she should tell her children. “The ad said the job comes with a cabin and twenty acres of land.”

The spoon was poised in front of Scotty’s mouth. “To keep?”

Abbey nodded. “But we’d need to live there for a year. I imagine there won’t be many applicants, but then I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be an abundance of jobs for assistant librarians, either.”

“I could live anywhere for a year. Go for it, Mom!”

“Susan?” Abbey suspected the decision would be more difficult for her daughter.

“Will there be girls my age?”

“Probably, but I can’t guarantee that. The town only has 150 people, and it would be very different from the life we have here in Seattle.”

“Come on, Susan,” Scott urged. “We could have our very own house.”

Susan’s small shoulders heaved in a great sigh. “Do you want to move, Mommy?”

Abbey stroked her daughter’s hair. Call her greedy. Call her materialistic. Call her a sucker, but she couldn’t stop thinking about those twenty acres and that cabin. No mortgage. Land. Security. And a job she loved. All in Hard Luck, Alaska.

She inhaled deeply, then nodded.

“Then I guess it would be all right.”

Scott let out a holler and leapt from his chair. He grabbed Abbey’s hands and they danced around the room.

“I haven’t got the job yet,” Abbey cried, breathless.

“But you’ll get it,” Scott said confidently.

Abbey hoped her son was right.

Two

Abbey took several calming breaths before walking up to the hotel desk and giving her name.

“Mr. O’Halloran’s taking interviews in the Snoqualmie Room on the second floor,” the clerk told her.

Abbey’s fingers tightened around her résumé as she headed for the escalator. Her heart pounded heavily, feeling like a lead weight in her chest.

Her decision to apply for this position had understandably received mixed reactions. Both Scott and Susan were excited about the prospect of a new life in Hard Luck, but Abbey’s parents were hesitant.

Marie Murray would miss spoiling her grandchildren. Abbey’s father, Wayne, was convinced she didn’t know what she’d be getting into moving to the frozen north. But he seemed to forget that she made her living in a library. Soon after placing the initial call, Abbey had checked out a number of excellent books about life in Alaska. Her research had told her everything she wanted to know—and more.

Nevertheless, she’d already decided to accept the job if it was offered. No matter how cold the winters were, living in Hard Luck would be better than having to accept money from her parents.

Abbey found the Snoqualmie Room easily enough and glanced inside. A lean, rawboned man in his early thirties sat at a table reading intently. The hotel staff must have thought applicants would arrive thirsty, because they’d supplied a pitcher of ice water and at least two dozen glasses.

“Hello,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Abbey Sutherland.”

“Abbey.” The man stood abruptly as if she’d caught him unawares. “I’m Christian O’Halloran. We spoke on the phone.” He motioned to the seat on the other side of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She sat and handed him her résumé.

He barely looked at it before setting it aside. “Thank you. I’ll read this later.”

Abbey nervously folded her hands in her lap and waited.

“You’re applying for the position of librarian, right?”

“Yes. I’m working toward my degree in library science.”

“In other words, you’re not a full librarian.”

“That’s correct. In Washington state, a librarian is required to have a master’s degree in library science. For the last two years I’ve worked as an assistant librarian for King County.” She paused. Christian O’Halloran was difficult to read. “I answer reference questions, do quick information retrieval and customer service, and of course I have computer skills.” She hesitated, wondering if she should continue.

“That sounds perfect. Hard Luck doesn’t exactly have a library at the moment. We do have a building of sorts....”

“Books?”

“Oh, yes, hundreds of those. At least a thousand. They were a gift to the town, and we need someone who’s capable of handling every aspect of organizing a library.”

“I’d be fully capable of that.” She listed a number of responsibilities she’d handled in her job with the King County library system. Somehow, though, Abbey couldn’t shake the feeling that Christian O’Halloran wasn’t really interested in hearing about her qualifications.

He mentioned the pay, and although it wasn’t as much as she was earning with King County, she wouldn’t need to worry about rent.

A short silence followed, almost as if he wasn’t sure what else to ask.

“Could you tell me a little about the library building?” she ventured.

He nodded. “Actually it was a home at one time—my grandfather’s original homestead, in fact—but I don’t think you’d have much of a problem turning it into a library, would you?”

“Probably not.”

Already, Abbey’s mind was at work, dividing up the house. One of the bedrooms could be used for fiction, another for nonfiction. The dining room would be perfect for a reading room, or it could be set up as an area for children.

“You understand that life in Hard Luck isn’t going to be anything like Seattle,” Christian commented, breaking into her thoughts.

Her father had said that very thing the day before. “I realize that.” She paused for a moment. “Could I ask you about the house and the land you’re offering?”

“Of course.”

“Well, uh, could you tell me about the house?”

She waited.

“It’s more of a cabin, and I’d describe it as...rustic.” He seemed to stumble on the word. “It definitely has a...rural feel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s comfortable, but it’s different from what you’re used to.”

“I’m sure it is. Tell me about Hard Luck.”

The man across from her relaxed. “It’s probably the most beautiful place on earth. You might think I’m prejudiced and I can’t very well deny it. I guess you’ll have to form your own opinion.

“In summer there’s sunlight nearly twenty-four hours a day. That’s when the wildflowers bloom. I swear every color under the sun bursts to life almost overnight. The forests and tundra turn scarlet and gold and burnt orange.”

“It sounds lovely.” And it did. “What about the winters?”

“Oh, yes. Well, again, it’s beautiful, but the beauty is kind of...stark. Pristine’s a good word. I don’t think anyone’s really lived until they’ve seen our light show.”

“The aurora borealis.”

Christian smiled approvingly. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he continued. “It gets mighty cold. In winter it isn’t uncommon for the temperature to drop to forty or fifty below.”

“My goodness.” Although Abbey knew this, hearing him say it reinforced the reality.

“On those days, almost everything closes down. We don’t generally fly when it’s that cold. It’s too hard on the planes, and even harder on the pilots.”

Abbey nodded; he’d told her about Midnight Sons, the O’Halloran brothers’ air charter service, during their phone conversation.

“What about everything else?” she asked. “Like the school. Does it close down, too?” He’d also explained in their previous conversation that Hard Luck had a school that went from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

“Life in town comes to a standstill, and we all sort of snuggle together. There’s nothing to do in weather that cold but wait it out. Most days, we manage to keep the school open, though.” He shrugged. “We rely on one another in Hard Luck. We have to.”

“What about food?”

“We’ve got a grocery store. It’s not a supermarket, mind you, but it carries the essentials. Everyone in town stocks up on supplies once a year. But if you run out of anything, there’s always the grocery. If Pete Livengood—he’s the guy who owns it—if he doesn’t have what you need, one of the pilots can pick it up for you. Midnight Sons makes daily flights into Fairbanks, so it isn’t like you’re stuck there.”

“What about driving to Fairbanks? When I looked up Hard Luck, I couldn’t make out any roads. There is one, isn’t there?”

“Sure there is—in a manner of speaking,” Christian said proudly. “We got ourselves a haul road a few years back.”

Abbey was relieved. If she did get the job, she’d have to have her furniture and other household effects delivered; without a road, that would obviously have been a problem. Flying them was sure to be prohibitively expensive.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked.

“None.” Christian looked at his watch. “Would you mind filling out the application form while you’re here? I’ll be holding interviews for the next day or so. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right.”

Abbey stood. “That’d be fine.”

Christian gave her the one-page application, which she completed quickly and gave back to him.

He rose from behind the table and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too.” Even before she’d come in for the interview, she’d known she’d accept the position if it was offered to her. She needed a job, needed to support her family. If that meant traveling to the ends of the earth, she’d do it. But as she turned to walk away, Abbey realized she not only needed this position, she wanted it. Badly.

She loved the idea of creating her own library. But it wasn’t just the challenge of the job that excited her. She’d watched this man’s eyes light up as he talked about his home. When he said Hard Luck was beautiful, he’d said it with sincerity, with passion. When he told her about the tundra and the forest, she could imagine their beauty. She’d seen plenty of photographs and even a National Geographic documentary, but it was his words that truly convinced her. More than that, excited her.

“Mr. O’Halloran?” she said, surprising herself.

He was already seated, leafing intently through a sheaf of papers. He glanced up. “Yes?”

“If you decide to hire me, I promise I’ll do a good job for you and the people in Hard Luck.”

He nodded. “And I promise I’ll phone you soon.”

* * *

“Well?” Scott looked at Abbey expectantly when she walked into the house. “How’d the interview go?”

Abbey slipped off her pumps and curled her toes into the carpet. “Fine—I think.”

“Will you get the job?”

Abbey didn’t want to build up her son’s hopes. “I don’t know, honey. Where’s Missy?” Since she paid the teenage babysitter top dollar, she expected her to stay with Scott and Susan for the agreed-upon number of hours.

“Her mother wanted her to put a roast in the oven at four-thirty. Susan went with her. They’ll be back soon.”

Abbey collapsed into her favorite chair and dangled her arms over the sides. Her feet rested on the ottoman.

“Are you finished your homework?” she asked.

“I don’t have any. There’s only a couple more weeks left of school.”

“I know.”

Abbey dreaded the summer months. Every year, day camp and babysitting were more and more expensive. Scott was getting old enough to resent having a teenager stay with him. Not that Abbey blamed him. Before she knew it, her son would be thirteen himself.