Northern Lights Trilogy (117 page)

What was this? Some sudden interest in an old friend? Or was it merely the hope of meeting a man who was truly on her level, a man she could admire?

Karl agreed to dance with Mara once again, wearily aware that she played a game with her friends, putting on a face of love with him even though he knew her to be deeply angry with him. It came out in small asides and demands that made the evening long—just an hour into it.

Elsa still had not arrived.

He escorted Mara out onto the dance floor for another turn, then politely asked if he could get her a glass of punch.

Petulantly she agreed, taking his arm and pulling him close as if they were inseparable. It was her youth, he supposed, that pushed her to pretend so. Grateful to her for taking his rejection with a fair level of maturity, he played along. They chatted with friends of the Kenneys, who chided him in roundabout fashion for not making a proposal to Mara at an event like the ball, where they could all enjoy it.

Suddenly Karl was anxious to get out on the dance floor again away from the speculation.

Elsa gasped when she saw him. Eric looked every bit the gentleman as he took off his top hat and bowed deeply to her. The men were grouped around him, eager to see their captain in her lovely new dress. When she appeared at the door, they cheered.

“Ne’er had a cap’n that was a looker, too!” one called.

“If Eric fails ya, come back for me!” shouted another.

They all laughed together.

“Oh, Mama!” Kristian cried. “You look like a princess!”

“Aye, ya do,” Riley said, drawing near. He took her hand and kissed it. “Won’t get too close. Don’t wanta dirty your dress. But you’re a sight, Cap’n. A sight.”

Elsa smiled, a bit embarrassed at the attention. It was like having forty older brothers seeing her off to the dance. No doubt dear Eric had taken his share of ribbing.

“You’ll get the children right to bed?”

“Soon as you’re off the gangplank, Cap’n. Go have fun.”

“Three cheers for the prettiest cap’n on the Pacific!” shouted one of her men.

“On all the seas!” corrected another.

“Hear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear, hear!” They rumbled as one.

Elsa was sure she blushed the color of Riley’s red handkerchief around his neck. “All right, boys. You’ve earned some shore leave for that send-off. Riley, assign ten men to stay on watch until ten o’clock. Those men that have to stay on get the whole day ashore tomorrow. Then I want the lot of you aboard tomorrow night by ten, because the next morning we sail.” She felt a bit foolish taking command in her finery, but she could not help it.

“Bye-bye, Cap’n!” called a sailor in a high-pitched voice above her. Elsa looked up and saw about ten men on the lanyard. She laughed. They were all dressed as voluptuous women, wharf girls with dark, red painted lips, in blankets that simulated tawdry dresses. They delicately waved white silk handkerchiefs at her in an obvious imitation of society women. “Think they’d welcome us at the ball, Captain?” one asked in his falsetto.

“I think not.”

“Hmm,” sniffed another. “Just because a girl ain’t got the right dress, is that it?”

By now some of the men below were rolling on the decks they were laughing so hard. Riley wiped away tears from his eyes while Elsa grinned.

“Not all of us get dresses delivered from mysterious admirers,” sniffed still another man.

“Apparently all of you are not as deserving as I,” she tossed back.

The men laughed. Elsa laughed with them. They were boys in men’s clothing. And “women’s.”

“Ta ta!” called one, waving his handkerchief. “Ta ta!” echoed the rest on the lanyard.

Elsa laughed even harder, waved back, and then shook her head. From the side of the ship, they hooted and hollered as she took Eric’s arm, and then again when she grasped his hand to climb into the phaeton cab. Eric laughed. “You can put the boys in different clothes, but they’re boys no matter what,” he said.

Elsa looked at him strangely. Hadn’t she just thought something similar herself minutes ago? Maybe they had more in common than she knew.

They arrived after a ten-minute ride to the Saint Ignatius Hotel. The hotel boasted of its new electrical capabilities, and Elsa gaped at the huge crystal chandelier above them in the foyer, warmly lit by hundreds of tiny flickering bulbs. “Just think, Eric,” she said, leaning closer to him. “In a few years, we’ll see many like that. Can you imagine? A whole city lit up like midday!”

“It will be remarkable. Shall I check your coat?”

“Certainly,” she said, admiring his formal language. She remembered that underneath that sailor’s exterior he had been raised to be a gentleman.

They walked down a long hallway, following the noise of music and revelers, and, after turning again, spotted men and women in elegant dress entering and exiting the grand ballroom.

Elsa smiled in appreciation as she entered. There were hundreds of people present, dancing underneath the tiny white lights and streamers of fall-colored leaves. The light cast a warm glow over everything. Elsa found herself immediately scanning the crowd for him. For Karl Martensen. But there were so many people that Elsa despaired of ever finding him.

She had been dancing with Eric for over an hour before the master of ceremonies called for a cotillion dance, in which everyone would take part. “I don’t know if I know this one,” she whispered to Eric.

“I do. Follow me!”

Elsa wondered again at her second mate. Just where did he learn the cotillion? He laughed at her confused expression. “My uncle was a sea captain, but a gentleman through and through. He had me take dance lessons every year. Now follow me.”

He took her hands in his big, rough ones. His touch was gentle but sure. It felt good to be touched again, even by a friend. Few touched her other than her children. And nobody with the assurance of a man leading a woman on the dance floor. “Now lift your hands,” he said, gently lifting them upward and over her head. “Turn halfway,” he said in time with the music. “And again. Now around me.” When she came back around he held her at the waist and pulled her closer. “Thank the Spaniards for their influence,” he said, smiling into her eyes. Then he turned her around for two quick twirls. “Now, my dear captain, you are on your own.”

“What?” she gasped as he left her, and suddenly she was in front of another. A bit late, she lifted her arms, then caught up on the half turn.

“Are you Elsa Ramstad?” the man asked.

“I am,” she said as he twirled her around.

“It’s a pleasure. Alfred Cummings,” he introduced himself.

“Mr. Cummings.” She nodded once, as she met up with her next partner.

Three partners later, she lifted her arms, getting into the cadence of the dance, enjoying herself, when she stopped, letting her arms slowly drift to her sides as she stared. “Karl,” she breathed.

“Elsa,” he greeted her, slightly shaking his head and smiling. “Elsa Ramstad. You’re as lovely as ever.”

She was lovely. The loveliest woman at the ball in that dress of ivory and spun gold. Just as he knew she would be when he’d seen the gown at the shop in Paris. It was meant for her. Her hair, the color of a harvest moon’s reflection in a glass of champagne, was the exact same hue, and it made her blue eyes seem bigger somehow. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Too long indeed. Come, let us get out of the way of the dancers.”

“Oh yes!” he said, suddenly aware of others in the room. For a moment, it was only he and Elsa. He took her hand, slender and yet strong in his own, and led her off the floor. They each retrieved a glass of punch and walked to a small archway off the dance floor.

She stood away from him as if suddenly shy.

“Elsa Ramstad, you’re the most beautiful woman in this room.” He couldn’t help himself. She was.

“Surely not.”

“Disagree if you must, but it’s the truth. Who escorted you?” he asked, scanning the room.

“My second mate, Eric Young.” “A good man, I hear.”

She lifted a brow but let his comment go. He’d have to be more careful; she’d find out how much he kept track of her and her crew.

“And a surprising one. I keep finding a new reason to like him more.”

Karl faltered at her candor. Was there something between them? Did he have any right to the sudden jealousy in his heart? He supposed no one would ever be right for Elsa, in his eyes, other than Peder. Or himself. And there was no chance of that ever happening!

“And you?” she asked.

“I escorted Mara Kenney.” He held his tongue, suddenly anxious to explain the true nature of their relationship. But she had not asked, and to volunteer such intimacies would seem ungentlemanly.

“A fine family. I met the elder Kenneys at another ball, years ago. The girls were just…” She broke off, apparently embarrassed.

“It is all right, say it. They’re still girls.”

“That’s true. Why, she must be half your age!”

“A bit scandalous, no?” He was teasing her, wondering what her reaction would be. He couldn’t help himself. “Plenty of men take brides much younger than themselves.” It was out before he could stop himself. He wanted to know how she would take it, if she cared
at all. If she would be jealous, as he had been at the mention of Eric Young.

“I suppose they do,” she said, turning slightly away. “Elsa, I—”

“Karl Martensen!” cried Mara, suddenly at his side. “I look away for one moment, and suddenly you’re talking to another woman!”

He bit back a sharp retort, wanting to send her back to her mother where she belonged. “Mara,” he said instead, “I would like to introduce an old friend. Captain Elsa Ramstad, meet Miss Mara Kenney.”

“Elsa Ramstad!” Mara gasped. “Karl, I had no idea you knew the Heroine of the Horn! Wait until I introduce you to my friends, Captain Ramstad! Oh, it will be just wonderful!”

“I am sure,” Elsa said vaguely. She shot him a look that said “This
is your love interest?
”

He smiled in frustration. There he was, wanting nothing more than to stare at Elsa in that dress, to catch up on old times, and instead he had immediately gotten off on the wrong foot. Before he would allow Mara to drag Elsa off to meet her friends, he said, “Mara, would you excuse us for one moment? As you know, I had Ramstad Yard build my steamer, and I need to speak with Captain Ramstad about it.”

“Oh, Karl. This is hardly the place for business.”

He flashed her a smile. “I know. Forgive me. Give me just one minute, and the captain and I will join you and your friends.”

Mara reviewed her choices. “Very well.
One
minute,” she stated.

He turned away from her with a sigh and back to Elsa. She awaited him with a knowing smile. “Got yourself in deep again, didn’t you, Karl?”

“Yes. I have a bad habit of that.” “You wanted to talk business?”

“No! No,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I simply wanted one more minute with a dear friend I haven’t seen in years. It is so good to see you, Elsa. Truly. Are you here long? I saw your ship yesterday and inquired after you, but you were in town.”

“As I inquired after you,” she said, pulling her hands from his to take two crystal cups from a passing waiter’s tray. She gave one to Karl. “That’s quite a beauty our yard turned out for you. And I hear she has a ballroom.”

“Indeed. Perhaps you’ll come and join me for a dance sometime.”

“You’re going to Alaska?”

“I am. As fast as I can.”

“Then we’ll be in a race. From Washington to Juneau, as soon as we replace our mast.”

“What? Truly? You’re going to Juneau too?”

“Trent and Tora are soon to get married, if they’re not already. I want to be there. As soon as we stop off for a new mast at Ramstad Lumberyard and for Mrs. Hodge in Seattle, we’re heading north.” She brought her crystal cup to her lips. Karl loved her lips. Even settled, they looked as if they had a slight smile to them. He reminded himself not to stare. Besides, she was a friend, and a friend only. If ever they were to be more, it would be up to her. Never again, as God was his witness, would he make an unwelcome advance upon her. The last time he tried, it had torn them apart and killed his friendship with Peder.

“Oh,” he sighed, “Mara is waving at me. We had better go. So it sounds as if we can meet up in Seattle? Go from there to Juneau together?” He took her hands again. “Think of it, Elsa. We can get to know each other again, rekindle our friendship. I would love to know your children.”

She smiled then. “I’d like that too. So next week in Washington?”

“Next week in Washington,” he whispered, suddenly able to lead her to others when he knew he would soon have her all to himself.

Elsa danced the rest of the evening with Eric, with Alfred Cummings, with any man who asked. But never with Karl. Why did he not come to her, invite her onto the floor? Gradually her gay mood faded as she brooded over the fact that he never asked, but instead twirled the
lovely, but so young, Mara Kenney about the floor. She saw them laughing together, whispering another time. And still later, she watched as Karl bent and kissed her cheek. They were a striking couple, she had to admit, but something just didn’t settle right.