Under the Northern Lights(74)

Shawn stared at me for long seconds, then turned around and left the diner without another word. A soft sigh escaped me as I watched him leave. I could tell I’d hurt him, but honestly . . . how many times did I have to tell him no before he believed me?

Patricia came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Mallory. He knows it’s over. He just doesn’t want to accept it.”

I nodded as I put my hand over hers. “Yeah, it figures, though—the guy I want to be with is completely unobtainable, and the one I’m not interested in won’t leave me alone.”

“I think he got the message this time,” she said, giving me an encouraging smile.

I wanted to believe her, but I knew how tenacious Shawn could be. A fact that was proven to me when I got home and found another dozen roses on my doorstep with a note that said, “I’ll give you more time.”

“Shawn . . .” I groaned, opening my door. Maybe if I tattooed No on my forehead, he’d finally believe that I meant it.

My dogs attacked me with yips and kisses when I walked inside. I reached down to pet them, but it didn’t boost my mood. I walked to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed. They hopped up with me, comforting me with their presence, since they could tell I was down. “Thanks, guys,” I murmured, scratching Pippin’s belly.

Somehow, I needed to find joy again. I was sure Michael would want me to be happy. It was so hard, though. I felt so . . . incomplete. I’d purchased a new camera last week, but it was still in the box, unopened and untouched. There was something about opening it that felt like I was letting Michael go, moving forward with my life. Ridiculous, but that was how I felt.

Shifting my gaze, I looked over to my nightstand. A cordless phone was resting there next to my lamp and alarm clock. If only I could talk to Michael. Call him, find out if he was okay. I desperately wanted to know if he was all right. Sitting up, I was struck with a sudden conversation I’d had with Michael.

“Would you like me to . . . contact your father when I get home? Let him know you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Michael, he would want to know—”

My pain of the unknown was so brief compared to Michael’s father’s. And yes, I understood why Michael didn’t want to talk to him, but leaving him in the dark because he’d acted with his head, not his heart . . . well, it seemed cruel. And I knew deep down, past the hurt, Michael wasn’t cruel. Just in pain.

Picking up the phone, I wondered how I could possibly find his father. New York City was huge. But I didn’t have anything else to do . . . besides miss Michael. My mind made up, I headed to my computer and started finding phone numbers for every police station I could.

Early the next morning, I started making phone calls. Since I didn’t have much information—just his rank and his last name—I felt like I was about to undertake an impossible mission. Clutching my cross, a necklace that painfully reminded me of Michael now, I prayed for luck.

Fate was with me, and on my third attempt, I was met with an unexpected response.

“I’m looking for a Captain Bradley?”

“This is he. How can I help you?”

My heart started pounding in my throat. “Mr. Bradley? Father of Michael Bradley?”

The line was silent for a moment. “Yes . . . Michael is my son.” The pain in his voice was crystal clear. “Who is this? And what do you know of my son?”

Relief coursed through me in waves. “Hi. My name is Mallory Reynolds . . . your son saved my life.”

“Ah . . . at the hospital? If you’re looking to get it touch with him, I’m sorry . . . he left the city some time ago.”

“No . . . this was last winter. My plane crashed, and he saved my life.”

His voice brightened with hope and eagerness. “You’ve seen him? You’ve seen Michael? Is he . . . okay?”

A slow smile spread over my lips. “He’s fine. He’s living in the mountains, in Alaska. He’s . . . alone . . . but he’s fine.”

A long exhale met my ear. “Thank God. I was so . . . he’s been gone for so long, and nobody’s heard from him. I was beginning to think the worst.”

“I know—that’s why I wanted to call you. To let you know he’s fine.”

“You said he’s living alone in the woods?”

“Yes, it’s very . . . remote. But he does occasionally go into Fairbanks. In fact . . . if you were to leave a message at one of these three places, I’m sure he’d get it.” I then proceeded to give him the name of the fur trader, the mechanic’s shop, and the general store. If Michael’s father wanted to contact him, one of those three guys would surely pass along his message. And . . . my message . . .

“Thank you, Mallory. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I smiled into the phone. “I know how it feels to be worried . . . about a loved one.”

“Does he know that you love him?” he asked, his voice soft.

My mind flashed back to our tearful goodbye. “Yeah, he knows.”

“Don’t give up on him, Mallory. He’ll . . . he’ll come back.”

By the crack in his voice, I could tell that he’d repeated that line in his head millions of times. “It was nice to sort of meet you, Mr. Bradley. I hope we can meet in person one day.”