Northern Lights Trilogy (103 page)

C
hristina and Jessica were already a big help in the roadhouse kitchen, Tora proudly appraised. They were both at the marble pastry counter, earnestly kneading bread, as Tora hurriedly dropped off dishes for Charlie to wash and took more steaming plates out to the restaurant. Ordinarily, she merely managed and greeted customers, but her three waitresses were so busy they could not keep up. Even Trent had pitched in and was helping the cook serve up hot pot roast, carrots, and mashed potatoes.

She grinned as she exited the swinging kitchen doors, taking good food to hungry men. Juneau was a hopping, rowdy place, and Tora loved it. She loved the frontier feel of the town, the awe-inspiring beauty of the mountains and fjords that reminded her of home. She cherished the chance to build a part of Trent’s business alongside him again, and the sense of family that Kaatje, the girls, Charlie, and Trent gave her. This place, at last, was home.

The men flirted with her and left her generous tips, all of which went into a can that she saved for the children. She liked to spoil them with new clothes or treats. And although Charles was Trent’s to care for, Tora wanted to mother him a bit too. She doubted he had ever spent much time with women, at least women of good morals.

And Tora Anders finally had her own good morals, she acknowledged to herself. Finding faith in God had radically changed the way she lived and saw others. It no longer mattered what others thought of her—at least, most of the time; she still had to work at it—but she knew God always found delight in her. It gave her a foundation of freedom and self-assurance that she had never known. Being Trent’s bride-to-be was only icing on the cake. Her faith, her love with Trent, Kaatje, and the children had all added up to make her life just about perfect.

“May I have some more coffee, miss?” a heavily bearded man asked, holding up a white ceramic cup.

“Certainly.”

“Got any more cobbler, Miss Anders?” another asked, obviously vying for her attention.

“I’ll get that, Miss Anders,” Bess, one of her waitresses, interrupted.

“Ah, Bess, I wanted Miss Anders to bring it by,” the man grumbled good-naturedly.

“Yes, well, if you really want your cobbler, you’ll just have to take it from me,” the redhead sassed back. “Miss Anders is only helping us out since you boys all decided to take supper at the same time.”

“We’ll do anything to get your pretty manager out and among us!” shouted a young man from another table.

Trent came out wiping his hands on a dishcloth and perusing the room. The men grew quieter at the sight of him until one man yelled, “You’re taking that lout as your husband? Look at me!” He stood, and the men laughed as he pretended to primp. “Don’t you want a young man? Why, that old man probably won’t be able to carry you over the threshold!”

Tora covered her smile while Trent glared at them all. “I’ll show any man here that I’m twice the man he is! And I’m telling you, it will take twice the man to handle a bride like Miss Anders!”

The room erupted with laughter and shouts. Tora laughed with them.

“Who’ll give me a decent run for my money?” Trent went on. He unbuttoned his fine shirt sleeves and rolled them up past his elbows. “There’s a dollar here for any man who can beat me at arm wrestling!”

Several men rose immediately, eager to take the businessman’s dollar with their miner’s muscles. They jostled each other toward the table.

“Easy, boys, easy!” Trent called, Charlie suddenly at his side, eyes alight. “One at a time. I’ll take as many of your dollars as I can. I’m working on that Ketchikan roadhouse now, you know! I can use the extra cash.”

Tora had never seen such bravado in Trent, nor seen him so happy. But inwardly she groaned. Trent was tall and well built but lean, and he surely could never compete with the beefy muscles in the crowd. Still, she stood beside him, like a barmaid next to a seasoned card shark, watching what would transpire. Maybe it would be good for Trent to take a little beating on the arm-wrestling table. He was always so sure of himself…

Her mouth dropped open as Trent bent the first man’s wrist and took his arm down to the table. Charlie hit the table, hooting out his approval and putting out his hand to take the loser’s dollar. Abruptly Tora closed her mouth. It wasn’t seemly to be surprised that one’s intended could outmuscle another man, regardless of his enterprise. When he beat the following man, her surprise turned to pride, and she cast out her hands and raised her eyebrows in a silent, taunting dare to the remaining men in the crowd.

Trent beat three more men before the sixth man beat him. With that, he rose and smiled, waving to the customers. “That’s it for me, gentlemen. I always quit when the tide begins to turn, and it appears that time has come.” He rose, cheeks flushed and his hairline damp, making his dark hair, gray at the temples, curl a bit. Tora stared up at him in adoration, and before she knew what was happening, he dipped her for a low kiss.

She rose, gasping for breath and laughing in surprise. What had come over him? Trent was usually the picture of decorum! Today he was acting downright…unseemly.

“I take it back, Mr. Storm!” shouted a man in the back, the same who had challenged him earlier. “You’re just the man for Miss Anders!”

“Hear, hear!”

“Hear, hear!” boomed the crowd.

Tora was still shaking her head and laughing about it two hours later. It was good to know that her love could still surprise her, she thought. It added some romance and suspense to their courtship. Intent on setting the kitchen to rights before turning in for the night, she gathered the canvas scrap bag and hauled it out to the back alley for the wandering dogs.

She tossed it from the back stoop and paused to search the night sky. The stars were brilliant, covering the black backdrop of infinite space with a powdered sugar sprinkling of glimmering orbs. Her breath fogged before her, and as she did each night with the girls, she prayed for Kaatje, that she was somewhere warm and safe.
Oh, come home soon, Kaatje.

Tora missed her friend. She wondered about Elsa, too. Was she on her way from Bergen yet? Tora hoped so. She wanted both women with her when she said “I do.” It just wouldn’t be the same without them.

She smiled again and rubbed her upper arms, suddenly chilled through. She turned to go inside when a movement at the end of the alley caught her attention. It was pitch dark, but the lanterns outside the front of the roadhouse cast long shadows. A man stepped into the center of the alley, his back to the street, facing Tora. He stood stockstill, staring and staring.

By instinct, Tora threw back her shoulders and straightened. There was something eerily familiar about his stance and body. He was someone she knew… Who? Tora shivered again, this time not from the cold. Quickly she slammed the door shut and bolted it as if he were tearing at it from outside.

“Tora?”

She spun around, frightened out of her wits, and closed her eyes in relief when she saw Trent.

“Tora, what’s wrong?” He rushed to her and took her in his arms.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just being an idiot.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a man outside. He just stood there in the alley and stared at me.” She felt increasingly foolish with each word out of her mouth.

“Did he come after you?” Trent asked, the muscles in his jawline tightening. “Did he threaten you?”

Tora sighed and took a step away from him. “No. It was nothing. I just thought….”

Going to the door and unlocking it, Trent pulled it open, then stood on the stoop outside like a marshal from the pages of a dime novel. He turned back to her. “He’s gone, whoever it was.” Then, after coming back inside, securing the door again, Trent placed one hand on her shoulder and the other under her chin. “You just thought what, Tora?”

Embarrassed, she shook off his tender touch. “Nothing. I was being foolish. Probably just tired. I’m going to go turn in now, Trent. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He watched her leave in silence; she could feel his gaze upon her back. Wearily she climbed the steps to the girls’ room. She pulled their blankets up to their chins and kissed each on the forehead. Then she went to the window and looked out to the street. It was deserted.

I am being foolish.

She walked to her own room, pulled the pins from her long, dark hair, and brushed it out. Then she undressed and put on a loose cotton shift. Tora was about to climb under the covers when she decided to go to her own window and once more make sure the man was gone. She blew out her candle so there was no light to betray her presence, then slowly lifted the shade to one side.

The street was still empty.

I’m being childish. I just thought…

I
just thought…

Finally, she admitted it to herself, voicing it for the first time in her head.
I just thought that he looked a lot like Decker.
The man who had kidnapped her in Washington Territory, raped her, and left her on a freight train bound for Seattle.

It looked an awful lot like Decker. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could pinch away the memories and pulled the sheet and blanket over her head. He couldn’t be here in Alaska.

He just couldn’t.

Elsa Ramstad’s newest steamship, the
Majestic
, had transported her passengers in record time to the Eastern seaboard of America. The steel-hulled ship was outfitted with three sailing masts, as well as a triple expansion engine. Elsa laughed to herself. She had spent too much time with Peder—he’d always been so adamant about the advantages of sails over steam, almost a purist about it. And now, she could not imagine a ship without sails. And they had proven useful. The sails helped dampen the Atlantic’s tendency to roll a ship and, in tandem with the steam engine, had helped make their crossing a record in Ramstad shipping logs. A voyage that had once taken them six to eight weeks had been shortened to less than a month’s time. Elsa noted the date in her logbook with some pride.

She relinquished the wheel to Eric Young when he came on duty and glanced upward at the yards of sail as she strolled the deck along with her eager passengers, waiting for their first look at America’s shores.

“Kristian, come here!” she called, watching as her four-year-old climbed the rigging to one of the lower yards.

“Ah, he’s a’right, Cap’n!” retorted a sailor. Elsa knew that she had gotten a reputation for being overprotective of her children, but then none of her sailors had lost a family member to the depths of the sea, had watched a spouse disappear forever among the roiling waves. “Kristian, come down at once!” she called.

“Ah, Mother,” he complained. But he immediately complied.

When he reached the deck, Elsa breathed a sigh of relief and hurried him toward the main cabin. “Come, Kristian. Let us see what Cook has made us for our noon dinner.”

“I hope it’s brisket again!”

“Aye, that was a special treat last night, wasn’t it?”

“Yes! And with carrots and potatoes and cabbage!”

Elsa laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing like a growing boy with an appetite. You’ve never seen food you didn’t like.”

They left the deck, and Elsa ducked her head to pass through the small cabin door. It was made of fine mahogany, like the interior, and she smiled as she gained sight of Eve and Riley, Elsa’s loyal first mate, playing with a wooden train.

“Mama!” Eve cried, leaving the small table to toddle over to her mother.

The girl was in a pristine white dress. With her white-blond hair and big blue eyes, she looked like an angel. It was times like this that Elsa’s heart ached for Peder, for a mate to share in the joys of parenting. How proud he would have been of his children! How he would have relished playing with them and seeing them grow. Blinking back sudden tears, Elsa pulled Eve close for a quick embrace.

“Go wash your hands, Kristian. It is soon time for supper.” After bemoaning the task and getting a stern warning look from his mother, Kristian reluctantly did as she bid.

Riley studied her with a knowing look. “You still miss him, don’t you?”

Elsa looked away, a bit embarrassed. Riley had become like an older brother or an uncle to her since Peder’s death. “It’s been almost two years, and it’s much better. But it’s times like this,” she said, gesturing toward where Kristian had stood, “that I ache for him. He would’ve loved his children. And they would’ve loved him.”

“Certainly.” Riley rose and walked to the porthole, looking over the gray-blue waves of the Atlantic. “You said it’s been almost two years, Elsa.”

“Right….”

He turned and looked at her again. “Two years. Your grieving has been properly observed. Do you think…do you think that you can ever let a man into your life again?”

Elsa slowly shook her head. “Oh, I do not know. I don’t know if I could ever take that risk again. The pain. Even the thought of losing another I love takes my breath away.” She sat down. No one had asked her such a direct question before—the thought of finding someone she could love as fiercely as she’d loved Peder seemed impossible. Surely it would be selfish to think such a love could happen twice in one lifetime.