Northern Lights Trilogy (130 page)

“It is the least I could do.” He placed his hat on his head and tipped it toward her, then turned to go, relieved to smell fresh Arctic air. He was so angered by what he had seen, so furious at the devastation Soren had left behind, that he decided to put in a hundred and fifty of his own money toward relieving Natasha’s situation.

Kaatje poured herself a cup of coffee and took another out to James, sitting in the cold, on the porch of the Ketchikan Roadhouse. He spent much of his day away from the house, telling her he was looking for new trails to take come spring in search of beaver or elk. The snow was deep, so he could not have gone far from the house. Kaatje knew it was her he needed to escape.

She opened the door, and her eyes grew wider at the cold. James glanced up at her, and then away, as if forcing himself to do so. He
was a good man, a strong man. An honorable man. “Here,” she said. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

Kaatje sat down beside him on the step. “I am sorry I made you come with me, James.”

“You did not force me.”

“I did. In a way. I said I couldn’t come without you. But you didn’t want to come. Still you came.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, the steam of his coffee rising up to his face. He did not look at her. “I wanted to come. That’s why I knew I shouldn’t. Karl tried to tell me.”

“Karl? What would he know about—?” her words halted suddenly, knowingly. “Ah, Karl. Yes.”

James shot her a curious look but did not comment.

“You’ve spent five days outside. Aren’t you tired of being cold?”

“It is fine. The cold gives a man the chance to think.”

They sat in companionable silence for a minute. “James, you’ve seen me safely here. As I asked. Now I want you to go back. You’re miserable, and I don’t want to live with that responsibility for the next few days. Take this afternoon’s ferry and head home.”

He looked down at his coffee, then took a sip. Kaatje studied his profile—a slightly large nose that was compensated for by a strong chin, seasoned skin the color of nutmeg from the sun, even in winter. Rough whiskers the same golden color as his hair. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and ran her fingers down his jaw line.

He caught her hand, turning toward her. “Don’t.” He seemed desperate.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “That was stupid. I just want. I just wish.”

He stood abruptly. “I’m getting my bag, Kaatje, and taking that ferry today. I can handle being near you, watching out for you, but not this near.”

“James, we can’t continue like this.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Why haven’t you gone away? Given up on me? Why do you keep taking this punishment?”

“Why?” he blew out a breath of frustration and gave her an incredulous look. “Why?” He ran a hand through his hair and then put his hat on, watching her all the while. He straightened the brim. “Because I’m in love with you, Kaatje Janssen. In love with you. I’ve been in love with you since that day you got mad at us for killing the baby bear. I love your strength and your resolve and your dedication. I love everything about you. And until I hear that you love your husband and are giving him a chance, that you want me to go away and never come back, I’m going to stay close enough to hear you say you love me back.”

He left her then. Never touching her. But it felt as if he had. Every inch of her was warmed by his words. She had wanted to hear them, yet dreaded hearing them. But it was true. She was in love with James Walker, and try as she might, she could not find the love she once had for Soren anywhere in her heart.

But she was trapped. Trapped in a marriage to a man who had betrayed her. She did not believe in divorce. Yet she could not allow herself or her girls to be hurt again. So there she sat, in limbo. “Why, Lord? Why?” She felt crushed by the agony of it all. “Finally, here is a man who could love me. Who wants to love me. Who wants to return my love. But Soren holds me still. Please, Father. Please. Show me your way. Show me the path. And give me the strength to take it.”

March 1889

A
nd when Charlie came in to tell us that ten more men”—Karl paused to laugh, barely able to breathe so great was his amusement—“had been seated, the look on your face…” He could not even finish his sentence.

Elsa giggled along with him, half miffed and half bemused by his enjoyment of recalling their mismanagement of the roadhouse when Kaatje was away. “And you were no picture of perfection yourself, Captain Martensen.” She gazed fiercely over their table aboard a small, elegant steamer. When the weather had turned unseasonably warm for March, Karl had convinced her to come with him to Glacier Bay on a scouting trip. She had assumed there would be others along and was overjoyed when she discovered that it was just the two of them and a crew.

“No—a picture of perfection I was not. Every day I rise and am thankful to our Lord that I was born for the sea and not for the kitchen.”

It was Elsa’s turn to laugh. “So are all those guests from the road-house!”

Karl hooted along with her. Their turn at running the Juneau Storm Roadhouse had been more challenging than originally thought. One cook had up and quit, and the other had come down with
influenza. Mrs. Hodge had had a terrible cold and was in bed. They tried valiantly for three days to keep it running, relying on the children and remaining staff to assist them. But the two of them were simply no good at keeping hungry men fed. “What were we thinking?” Elsa asked, wiping tears from her eyes. “We haven’t cooked in years.” She lifted a fork, filled with her last bite of a succulent crab and cheese soufflé. “And for good reason.”

Karl pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. Then he picked up a crystal goblet. “Shall we toast to never running a restaurant again?”

“Never again,” she agreed gladly, listening for the delicate
clink
of their glasses. “I can’t remember being so relieved when you suggested we compensate Trent, Tora, and Kaatje for lost days at the restaurant and simply close it.”

“It was a stroke of brilliance.” He paused and gazed at her tenderly. A quiet moment passed. “I am so happy you came with me, Elsa. This trip would’ve been interesting because of the locale but somewhat lonely.”

She smiled back at him and then reached across the table for his hand. “You’ve done a great deal to ease my loneliness, Karl.”

“I am glad you’ve allowed me to do so.”

“Tomorrow we go to shore?”

“Yes. I’ve arranged for a Hoona guide to take us in kayaks amongst the glaciers. It’s a bit dangerous with the warm weather, but we’ll take care. Are you game?”

“Of course. I wish the children could see all of this!” Kristian and Eve were back home with Mrs. Hodge, who’d recovered from her cold and could manage the passel of them and help Kaatje with the restaurant with greater ease than Elsa or Karl.

“Perhaps we could bring them up here someday.”

His use of
we
did not go unnoticed, and Elsa’s heart skipped for a moment.

“I have a present for you,” he said mysteriously.

“You do? For what occasion?”

“The maiden voyage of this ship and her first guest.” The small steamer was one that Lucas Laning had brought over in pieces across the Panamanian isthmus and built on the western shore.

“I’ll accept gifts under any guise.”

He rose and went to a corner cabinet, then returned with a large box wrapped in elegant white paper. Seeing him there, with the gift in hand, made her think of all the boxes she had received in the past couple years. “Karl,” she said, as she accepted the box and set it on her lap, “have you ever sent me presents before?”

“Presents? Of what sort?”

She studied him, and he looked truly confused. Elsa could feel the heat rise on her neck. How foolish to ask in such a straightforward manner! What would he think of her, accepting gifts from strangers? Though what she was supposed to do with them she did not know…

“Elsa?”

“Oh! Well, the last gift was a stereoscope with pictures from around the world.”

“A stereoscope? And you do not know from whom it came?”

“No, I—”

“There was no note?”

“No. I am sorry I broached the subject. Please, forget I said anything.” She hurriedly turned to the package on her lap. Would he think she had another suitor? Did she? It was all very puzzling. “What could you have purchased me?” she asked, but did not wait for him to comment. She ripped at the paper and opened the large box while he rose to stand by her side. Inside was a beautifully made sealskin coat, with a hood lined with lush fur, and matching trousers. “Karl!” she said in awe.

“When in Rome… We cannot be touring the glaciers in the latest fashions from Paris.”

She rose and, clutching the jacket to her breast, stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you, Karl. It was most thoughtful.”

“It was not all generosity, I confess.”

“Oh?”

He grinned again. “I would pay good money to see you in that outfit.”

She swatted him. “Next time we meet, I’ll be wearing it. No charge.” She rose and gave him a quick buss on the cheek. “Until tomorrow?”

“Until tomorrow, my love.” His eyes told her he wished they did not have to part.

She turned and walked from the dining room, aware that he was watching every step and treasuring every second of it.
My love. My love
, she repeated silently.

Karl took a sharp breath as he watched her emerge from her cabin the next morning. She was as lovely as he had envisioned when he first saw the jacket and pants on sale in the marketplace. The pants were slim and shamefully showed off her legs. He tried not to look. And the jacket clung to her curves, apparently meant for a more willowy Indian than Elsa Ramstad. She raised the hood and gave him an impish look.

“You are beautiful, my princess of the Far North.” He bowed deeply.

She held the small fur-lined hem of the jacket in a slight curtsy. “Let’s get on with it,” she said urgently. “If I don’t get into that kayak shortly, my insides are going to reach the boiling point.”

He knew what she meant. His own Inuit sealskin coat had him uncomfortably warm this day. He eyed the glaciers in the distance. They were beautiful, and yet he knew their shifting forms could easily snuff out the life of the most experienced kayaker. Was it safe?

“Come on!” she said, a girl in Bergen again. She tucked a strand of white blond hair back under her hood. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes alight. So different from almost three years ago when he had discovered her in the Skagit Valley mourning Peder.

She made her way down the ladder, to where an old Hoona had pulled alongside, with two other kayaks in tow. “Be careful, Elsa. They are extremely tipsy. Toyatte, here, wished to bring his canoe. But I told him we’d prefer the maneuverability of the kayaks. Don’t fall.”

“Like this?” She pretended to tip as she entered, sending tiny wakes away from the kayak on either side.

“Elsa!”

“Oh, come, Karl. I have walked lanyards a hundred feet above deck and shimmied up masts in storms around the Horn.” She scowled at him.

“All right. You cannot blame me for caring.” He nudged her under the chin and then gestured toward the kayaks. “You’re saying you’ve been in a kayak before.”

“Once or twice,” she quipped, gripping the tiny hole and gingerly stepping in. It barely tipped as she settled to the bottom and maneuvered the oilskin drop cloth about her waist to keep water out. The old Hoona gave her a rotting-teeth smile and a nod, then waited for Karl to enter his kayak. Once he got into his own tightfitting little kayak, they were off, skimming across the waters toward the glaciers.

He could not stop smiling. An adventure with Elsa! As they neared the closest iceberg, he could not keep his eyes off her. She was gazing at it in childish delight, then squealed as she glanced down in the water. “Look, Karl, look!”

Beneath them the iceberg spread out in ghostly, frozen waves, a monolith just beneath the surface. He nodded at her, and she looked at him strangely for a moment, as if she could sense his joy. He was transparent in his feelings for her, he knew. Perhaps it was a mistake, but he didn’t think so. From the start on the
Majestic
, he had been honest in his feelings for her, letting her proclaim them first, but never turning back. He wanted it all to be out in the open, this love he had for her. Besides, it was easier to enjoy it that way. There were no games, only pleasure and joy. It was as if God had ordained it himself.