“How are things shaping up in Europe?” Will asked.
“It's tense. There's a lot of speculation about Hitler and what he's going to do. He's building an army and recently announced the existence of a German air force, which is in direct violation of the Versailles Treaty. I think he's testing France and Britain. It doesn't look good. There's going to be war.”
“Really?” Luke asked. He looked at his dad. “If there is, I want to fight.”
“You're too young,” Will said. “And if there is a war, it won't involve the United States.”
“I wish I could agree with you,” Adam said, “but I don't think Europe can stand alone against Hitler. If he goes on the offensive, European countries are going to need help from the United States.”
“You mean American soldiers would have to fight?” Laurel asked, apprehension touching her.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Laurel's trepidation grew. “And what about you? What would you do?”
“I'd serve my country.” Adam plucked a piece of straw from the bale he rested against. “But right now we have peace. Anyway, I'd rather think about the English countryside. It's beautiful—green fields, heavy forests. And Paris. It's one of the most interesting cities I've ever visited. The Eiffel Tower is incredible. And when I was in Paris, I spent several hours in the Louvre.”
“What's that?” Brian asked.
“It's an art museum that sits right along the Seine River. Art from all over the world is housed there. They actually have paintings by Leonardo Da Vinci and Rembrandt.”
“I've always wondered what Paris was like,” Laurel said. “I doubt I'll ever see it.”
“I'll take you, as long as you're not afraid of flying,” Adam said with a grin.
Laurel didn't know how to respond. “I don't think I'm afraid. I've never been on a plane.”
“I've always wanted to fly,” Luke said.
“I like it.” Adam bundled deeper into his coat. “When you're high above everything, you get a whole new perspective. Farmland looks like a giant patchwork quilt, and rivers remind me of silver strands of ribbon.”
“Wow! That sounds neat,” Brian said. “Can I go to Paris with you?”
Adam gave the boy a quick squeeze. “Sure. Someday when you're grown up.”
Laurel studied Adam. He seemed different, comfortable and happy. And if it were possible, he looked even more handsome than she'd remembered. He needed a shave, but the shadow only added to his appeal. When he smiled, his strong features softened, revealing the inner boy. The eyes were the same deep blue and intense. When she was with him, she often had the feeling he could see her very thoughts.
She glanced into the cab and caught Robert's eye in the rearview mirror. He wore a gloomy expression.
Laurel remembered how his face had dropped when she'd thrown herself into Adam's arms. He'd been unable to conceal his hurt, and guilt had washed over her for causing it.
Until Laurel had seen Adam, she'd convinced herself he didn't matter anymore. Now, each time she looked at him, her heartbeat picked up, her palms turned sweaty, and she fumbled for something to say. She fought the impulse to stare at him and felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.
The truck turned into the driveway and slid to a stop in front of Laurel's house. Robert climbed out and walked around to Laurel. “Let me help you.” He caught her around the waist and lifted her down. Possessively, he kept his hands on her waist. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Uh, I don't know. Maybe. I don't know what I'll be doing. I guess it depends—”
“On what? Whatever Adam's doing?” Robert's voice was sharp. “Never mind. It doesn't matter.” He turned and walked back to the driver's side of the truck. “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Hasper.” He ignored Adam, wrenched open the door, climbed in, and slammed it closed.
“What's wrong with Robert?” Brian asked. “Is he mad?”
“Shh. It's none of your business.” Jean shuffled the baby from one arm to the other and took the little boy's hand. The truck's engine fired, and Robert bumped down the driveway. Jean headed for the back door. “Adam, I'll put fresh sheets on the bed for you.”
Her arms folded under her head, Laurel stared at the ceiling. Moonlight illuminated the room. She welcomed its glow. It matched her mood.
She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Finally she threw her legs over the side of the bed, pushed her feet into slippers, and walked to the window. The moon looked like a giant yellow ball resting in the night sky. Its brightness lit up the yard and pastures. The barn stood in the light, dominating the pasture. Beyond were the forests, the mountains rising up behind them like a white crown silhouetted against the night sky.
A wolf howled, his call sounding lonely, pitiful. The cold air penetrated Laurel's flannelette nightgown. She rubbed her arms as if doing so would scrub away the gooseflesh. Why did Adam come? He could have spent Christmas with friends in Chicago.
Adam leaned his hands on the bureau and stared into the mirror. Brown hair fell onto his forehead; deep blue eyes filled with mischief stared back. He knew he was good-looking, but he'd always wanted to be seen as someone more reflective and serious, not just handsome. However, he wasn't averse to using his looks when he needed them.
Moving away from the mirror, he studied his build. He was tall and lean but well-muscled. Although most women found him attractive, Laurel didn't seem to care. Why wasn't she interested in him?
He pushed his arms into the sleeves of a flannel shirt, then did up the buttons. “Maybe she is,” he said, remembering how she'd sometimes blush under his gaze. And last night her warm welcome seemed genuinely affectionate. But afterwards, she withdrew and stayed away from me. Robert was at her side all night, he thought, feeling a surge of jealousy. “I need to stop thinking about her and just enjoy my time here,” he said, lacing a boot.
He was eager to spend Christmas with the Haspers. The idea of the holidays with a real family appealed to him. He felt at home here. He'd never had a home life, and this family drew him. He also hoped to find time alone with Laurel.
With a lull in Europe's tumult, it was easy to convince his editor to send him to Alaska to do additional research on the colony. The company had flown him north with a promise of better days to come if he found a good angle on the story. I'd better come up with something exciting. Maybe this dogsled race will do the trick, especially the angle of Luke and Alex, colonist and native working together. I hope they win. With one last look in the mirror, he headed for the kitchen. The smell of frying bacon and coffee greeted him at the top of the stairs. He hurried down.
“So, you ready for a practice run?” Luke asked him at the bottom of the stairs.
“You bet. Do you mind if I write about it?”
