Alaska Skies. Debbie Macomber

      * * *

      The cabin wasn’t so bad, Abbey decided after her first two days. It was a lot like camping, only inside. She could almost pretend it was fun, but she longed for a real shower and a meal that wasn’t limited to sandwiches.

      Other than their complaints about having to use an outhouse, her children had adjusted surprisingly well.

      The summer months would be tolerable, Abbey thought, but she couldn’t ignore Sawyer’s warning about the winter.

      As for her work at the library, Abbey loved it. Sawyer had seen to the delivery of the bookcases from his mother’s house, along with a solid wood desk and chair for her.

      The day after her arrival, Abbey had set about categorizing the books and creating a filing system. Someday she planned to have everything on a computer, but first things first.

      “How are things going?” Pearl Inman asked, letting herself into the library.

      “Fine, thanks.”

      “I brought you a cup of coffee. I was hoping to talk you into taking a short break.”

      Abbey stood and stretched, placing her hands at the small of her back. “I could use one.” She walked to the door and looked outside, wondering about Scott and Susan, who were out exploring. It was all so different from their life in a Seattle high-rise. She knew Scott and Ronny spent a good part of each day down at the airfield pestering Sawyer.

      If Scott wasn’t with Ronny, then he was with Sawyer’s dog. Abbey couldn’t remember a time her son had been so content.

      Susan and Chrissie Harris spent nearly every minute they could with each other. In two days’ time they’d become virtually inseparable. Mitch Harris had stopped by to introduce himself. Mitch, Abbey recalled, worked for the Department of the Interior and was the local public safety officer. He seemed grateful that his daughter had a new friend.

      “I can’t believe the progress you’ve made,” Pearl said, surveying the room. “This is grand, just grand. Ellen will be delighted.”

      Abbey knew that Ellen was Sawyer’s mother and the woman who’d donated the books to the town.

      “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sawyer lately?” Pearl asked, pouring them each a cup from her thermos.

      “Not a word in almost two days,” Abbey admitted, hoping none of her disappointment showed in her voice.

      “He’s been in a bad mood from the moment you got here. I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy. I haven’t seen him behave like this since his father died. He blamed himself, you know.”

      Abbey settled on a corner of the desk and left the chair for the older woman.

      “What happened to his father?”

      Pearl raised the cup to her lips. “David was killed in an accident several years ago. They’d flown to one of the lakes for some fishing, which David loved. On the trip home, the plane developed engine trouble and they were forced down. David was badly injured in the crash. It was just the two of them deep in the bush.” She paused and sipped at her coffee.

      “You can imagine how Sawyer must have felt, fighting to keep his father alive until help arrived. They were alone for two hours before anyone could reach them, but it was too late by then. David was gone.”

      Abbey closed her eyes as she thought of the stark terror that must have gripped Sawyer, alone in the bush with his dying father.

      “If I live another sixty years I’ll never forget the sight of Sawyer carrying his father from the airfield. He was covered in David’s blood and refused to let him go. It was far too late, of course. David was already dead. We had to pry him out of Sawyer’s arms.”

      “It wasn’t his fault,” Abbey whispered. “It was an accident. There was nothing he could’ve done.”

      “There isn’t a one of us who didn’t tell him that. The accident changed him. It changed Hard Luck. Soon Ellen moved away and eventually remarried. Catherine Fletcher grieved something fierce. That was when her health started to fail.”

      “Have I met Catherine?” Abbey asked, wondering why Pearl would mention a woman other than David’s wife.

      “Catherine Fletcher. Used to be Catherine Harmon. No...no, she’s in a nursing home in Anchorage now. Her daughter lives there.”

      Pearl must have read the question in Abbey’s eyes. “Catherine and David were engaged before World War II. She loved him as a teenager and she never stopped. Not even when she married someone else. David broke her heart when he returned from the war with an English bride.”

      “Oh, dear.”

      “Ellen never quite fit in with the folks in Hard Luck. She seemed different from us, standoffish. I don’t think she meant to be, and I don’t think she realized how she looked to others. It took me a few years myself to see that it was just Ellen’s way. She was really quite shy, felt out of place. It didn’t help any that she didn’t have children right away. She tried. God knows she wanted a family. They were married almost fifteen years before Charles was born.”

      “You said Catherine got married?” Abbey asked, her heart aching for the jilted woman.

      “Oh, yes, on the rebound, right after David returned from the war. She gave birth to Kate nine months later and was divorced from Willie Fletcher within two years.”

      “She never remarried?”

      “Never. I thought for a time that she and David would get back together, but it wasn’t to be. Ellen left him, you see, and returned to England. Christian was about ten at the time. She was gone well over a year.” She shook her head, then sighed. “You can understand how David’s death affected everyone in town. Especially Sawyer.”

      “Of course.”

      “What I don’t get is why he’s upset now. He’s walking around like a bear with a sore paw, snapping at everyone.”

      Abbey gaped at her. “You think it’s got something to do with me?”

      “That’s my guess. But what do I know?” Pearl asked. She drank the rest of her coffee and stood up to leave. “I’d best get back to the clinic before someone misses me.” The clinic was in the community building, close to the school and the church.

      She tucked the thermos under her arm. “So, are you staying in Hard Luck or not?” she asked. Her question had an edge to it, as if she wasn’t sure she was going to like the answer.

      Abbey told her the truth. “I’d like to stay.”

      “That doesn’t answer my question.”

      Abbey grinned. “I’m staying.”

      Pearl’s lined face softened. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. We need you, and I have a feeling Sawyer wants you to stay, too.”

      Abbey laughed in disbelief. “I doubt that.” And if it was true once, she felt certain it no longer was.

      “No, really,” Pearl countered. “Unfortunately that boy doesn’t have the brains of a muskrat when it comes to dealing with an attractive woman.” She made her way to the door. “Give him time and a little patience, and he’ll come around.” With a cheerful wave, Pearl left.

      Abbey returned to work and got busy unloading another box of Ellen’s books. Knowing what she did now, the collection took on new meaning for her. Many of the books dated from the early to mid-fifties. Those were the childless years, when Ellen had yearned for a baby. Abbey suspected that Ellen O’Halloran had gained solace from these books, that they’d substituted for the friends she hadn’t been able to make in this town so far from England.

      As she set a pile of Mary Roberts Rinehart mysteries on the desk, she heard the distinctive sound of Sawyer’s truck pulling up outside.

      Her