Дебби Макомбер - Starry Night

Ah, so he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, either. “Is so,” she returned with equal fervor. “How else do you explain yourself? Your mother was given very few options. My goodness, Finn, think about it. She was a southern belle; these harsh elements were too much for her. She wanted to compromise, but your father wouldn’t hear of it. She told me it broke her heart to leave you behind, but you and your father were so close she couldn’t bear to separate you. When you chose to stay with your father, she could have insisted, could have taken the matter to the courts, but she didn’t. She bowed to your wishes even though it broke her heart.”

“She told you all this, did she?”

“Yes, and that’s not all. She mentioned how rude you were to her when your father died. She attended his funeral to make what amends she could, and you rejected her.” Carrie’s jaw tightened just thinking about the unkind way Finn had behaved toward his mother.

“She had no right to be there. She remarried.”

“She loved your father, and she loves you.” It was beyond Carrie’s imagination that Finn would continue to shut his mother out, especially after losing his father. “You were a boy when she left. You only heard one side of the story.”

“So did you, and frankly, what’s between my mother and me is none of your concern.”

He was right; Carrie was butting her head into areas that had nothing to do with writing the article. However, now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “Your mother wants you in her life. You’re her only child.”

“She should have thought of that twenty-five years ago.” As though he was exhausted from their argument, he slowly shook his head and whispered, “Just go to sleep, would you?”

She was about to mention how uncomfortable the sofa was, but he might assume she was looking for an invitation to join him in his bed. Nothing could be further from the truth. “I’m trying, but you make me so angry that I can’t think straight.”

“Try harder.” The curtain between the two rooms swayed as he whirled around and returned to bed.

Carrie didn’t know how long it was before she managed to sleep. At some point in the night she woke from the cold and drew the thick blankets more snugly about her shoulders. Later, she was overly warm and kicked them free from her jean-clad legs.

At about midnight, she opened her eyes to find Finn standing by the stove, feeding it the wood he’d brought in earlier.

The next thing she knew, he was gently waking her. “You can have the bed now.”

She blinked up at him without understanding. He was fully dressed, and while it surely must be close to morning, the only light that showed came from the fire in the stove.

Finn led her into the bedroom, and once she’d crawled into the ultracomfortable feather bed, he covered her with thick blankets. “I’ll be gone for a while.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, already half asleep. Surrounded by warmth and comfort, she thought sleeping on this soft mattress was heavenly.

When she woke, it was still dark. She quickly put on every bit of clothing that she could fit into until her arms were so thick with two long-sleeved shirts and two sweaters that she could barely bend her elbows.

Although she’d never cooked on a cast-iron stove, it didn’t seem that difficult. The coffeepot sat on the stove top, but she was unable to get water from the faucet. Once she got the fire going, she opened the cabin door. She blinked at the cold that seemed to come at her like a giant fist. It stole her breath, but she managed to pack the coffeepot with snow and then quickly came back inside. Searching through Finn’s cupboards, she found coffee and quickly assembled a pot. The coffee had just finished brewing when she heard Hennessey bark.

Finn was back.

Carrie couldn’t imagine where he’d gone or what he’d been doing, especially in the snow. She automatically reached for a second mug and filled it. Finn came in the door, followed by Hennessey, who instantly went to her side. She bent down and petted her newfound friend. Finn seemed surprised to see her up and about.

“The storm has let up,” he murmured. “But not enough for Sawyer to fly.”

“Oh.” Carrie had been afraid that was the case. She handed him a mug of steaming brew.

“You made coffee,” he said, as if this was some gargantuan feat.

“Yes.” It was one thing to get into a sparring match with him in the dead of night and quite another to do so when they were standing face-to-face. She’d made several accusations that she wished now had remained unsaid. It embarrassed her that she had delved into his personal life when what he did or didn’t do was none of her affair.

Finn, too, seemed uneasy.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked, although she didn’t have a clue what she would cook if he hadn’t. It wasn’t like she had access to fresh eggs. From what little she’d picked up about life in the frozen north, being this close to the tree line meant that groceries, supplies, or anything else Finn needed would have to be flown in.

“I ate earlier. You?”

“Not yet.” This strained politeness was a complete turnaround from the way they’d behaved toward each other previously. Carrie felt responsible for clearing the air, although she wasn’t sure what to say or if she should even try. Perhaps it would be best to just pretend their verbal skirmish hadn’t happened.

“There’s some caribou jerky if you’re interested. Made it myself this summer.”

His attitude toward her appeared to be a bit more amicable, she noticed. “Thanks, but I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

“Suit yourself.”

He removed his coat and then sat down at the table with his coffee, his gaze focused on the cup as if he were reading tea leaves.

Carrie sat down across from him and decided to make an effort at conversation. “About last night …”

His head shot up, and his gaze narrowed significantly. “What about it?”

“I want to apologize for the things I said about you and your mother.”

He bobbed his head as though to assure her all was forgiven. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. But I still think you have issues with women.”

“Drop it, would you?” he said between clenched teeth.

Carrie held up her hand. “You’re right, sorry.”

He relaxed and sipped his coffee.

“I need to do something, and I don’t want to make you mad, so I’m telling you in advance.”

“Now what?” he asked, as if he’d already grown tired of the conversation.

Carrie slipped the tips of her fingers into her jeans pocket. “Your mother asked me to give you this. I feel honor bound to follow through with my promise to her.”

“Give me what?”

“Your father’s wedding band.”

His face tightened. “Keep it.”

“I can’t do that; a promise is a promise.”

He stared across the short space between them and then smiled. “That’s how you convinced Sawyer to fly you in, isn’t it? You told him you had something for me, but he didn’t say what and I didn’t ask.”

Carrie didn’t feel she could or should lie. “I’m grateful Sawyer was willing to help me, but he didn’t do it for me. He did it because he felt he was doing what was best for you. He’s a friend, and from what I can see, a good one.”

Finn snorted and rubbed his hand down his beard. “I knew it had to be something like that.”

She placed the gold band in the center of the table.

“Satisfied now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His chair made a grating noise as he stood and reached for the gold band, which he carried to the front door. He opened it, letting snow and wind into the cabin before he tossed the ring with all his might into the storm.