Northern Lights Trilogy (19 page)

“Only pregnancy,” she said, smiling.

He did not return her smile. “How far along?”

“Four months,” she said, growing serious. Did they not allow pregnant women to enter? she wondered, feeling the beginnings of hysteria.

“Any difficulties?”

“Only at sea, when I was ill.”

He looked up sharply. “Ill?”

Soren stepped to her side and placed his arm around her. “She was seasick.”

“Step aside, sir. The lady will answer for herself, please.”

“He is right. It was only the seasickness. I was soon well and up on deck.”

The doctor nodded once and wrote something on her sheet. He stepped forward and checked one of her eyes, then the other, then scrawled something more.

“You may pass,” he said.

Kaatje and Soren emerged from the hall holding hands, feeling like pardoned prisoners.

Tora trailed behind Kristoffer, Elsa, and Peder, daydreaming about her future
without
the two children in her arms. Lars was soaked and desperately needed a new diaper; Knut refused to walk or let his father carry him. “I want Tora!” he insisted. Finally Peder coerced him to ride on his shoulders, and she was free of at least one burden. Why would anyone willingly choose motherhood? she wondered, bouncing Lars in an effort to quiet the child.

“I’ll go for a diaper,” Elsa said finally. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“Fine,” Tora said. Elsa looked a bit irked that she did not lavish praise and thanks, but Tora ignored her. She was in the land of opportunity. And just as soon as she could make her escape, she would be on her way. Surely Peder and Elsa would not make her serve Kristoffer for the prescribed six months. He would just have to find another nanny for his children. Maybe Elsa herself could care for them.

Tora gave the next uniformed official a long, steady gaze, flustering him a bit.

“What’s your name?” he asked, staring at his sheet of paper as if he could not look up again.

“Tora. Tora Anders,” she said softly, giving her voice a musical lilt.

He looked up, his eyes warming to her tone. Oh, this was going to be easy, she thought.
America is mine
. But she had eyes on someone bigger and better than a callow immigration official. She wanted someone with true power, someone who could make her powerful as well. Then Elsa would see what—

“Miss?” he was asking.

“I am sorry. I was daydreaming about this lovely new country of mine and thinking that I am all alone in it.”

The young official looked confused as he glanced from Tora to the children. Obviously he thought them a family. “Oh, I am just caring for the children,” she said.

He brightened, obviously hoping that her flirtation might mean she was interested in him. But as soon as he leaned forward, looking her in the eye, Tora’s interest waned. The thrill of conquest was gone.

“Come on, Tora,” Peder said gruffly, pulling her along toward the next station.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me.”

“You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?” she asked innocently.

“Batting your big blue eyes at every man who steps in your path.

It will work against you someday, Tora. And I won’t be around to step in,” he added, obviously referring to that night on the
Herald
with Soren.

“I do not need you to step in,” she said indignantly, wrenching away her arm. “I am a grown woman.”

“With a little girl’s idea of a just world.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean by that, Peder Ramstad, but I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“I will be happy to do so just as soon as you are someone else’s responsibility.”

“Like mine?” Kristoffer asked, stepping up behind them and taking the restless Lars from her arms.

Tora let out a sound of disgust. “I’m my own responsibility. No one owns me.”

“But you owe me five and a half more months.”

“Surely you do not intend to hold me to that bargain,” Tora said, looking at Kristoffer with what she hoped looked like righteous indignation.

“I surely do. You are indebted to me for the passage I’ve paid to your brother-in-law. Since you are penniless, you will repay me, Tora.” His eyes were gentle, but determined.

Little did he know that she was not penniless. Sewn in the hems of her skirts was money “borrowed” from her father against her future dowry. That dowry was rightfully hers. But she would not use it to buy passage. She needed it to establish herself somewhere and lure the right man—a wealthy man—to her side. If it took five more months to work off the passage, she could wait. She would use the time to study her alternatives.
I must move wisely
, she thought. Yes, let them think what they wanted of her. They’d soon see she was no mere girl.

Peder left Elsa and Tora at the final station in line, confident after a word with James, an official he knew, that there would be no problem. Besides, Kristoffer remained with them, partly to see Knut
through—everyone over two years of age was documented—and partly to help with Lars. He also knew Kris saw in Tora’s eyes what Peder himself saw: the urge to bolt. If they didn’t keep a close eye on her, she was liable to run for the next train to New York.

He left the brick hall and breathed deeply, smelling the hot summer city smells of dust, flowers, and horse dung. The ground felt curiously solid under his feet, as it always did after a voyage, and he walked as if each leg held a ten-pound weight. What was it about the sea that made a man feel lighter? Peder turned the corner, and after narrowly avoiding a coach, spotted Karl. He walked behind him for a while, thinking about catching up to him, when his friend turned and entered a saloon. Peder frowned. In all the years he had traveled with Karl, he had seldom seen him enter such an establishment.

He followed him and ambled up to the bar, taking the stool beside Karl. “It must be bad, to bring you in here.”

Karl looked over at him in surprise. “The heat,” he said, by way of answering. “Are you so bored that you must follow me?”

Peder shook his head as the bartender looked at him after taking Karl’s order. The man was back in an instant with a tall glass mug of frothy beer, and for a moment Peder lamented his decision. But it was poor practice to set such an example for his men, if any came by.

“Listen, Karl,” he said, “I have to leave. You know why. But is there something … Look, is something the matter? Are you having second thoughts about the business?”

Karl shook his head, staring at the beer. “No, I am fine. It’s the heat. I’ll just have one and be out. Now get on with your business, man.”

“All right. See you tonight?”

Karl nodded. “At the Oasis, right?”

“I hope so. I’m going there now to try and secure the rooms. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll leave word at the
Herald
where we can be found.”

“Good enough.”

Peder left the dark establishment, ignoring the lingering glances of the working girls and hoping Karl would do the same. No good could come from such a place, and he hoped Karl was serious when he said he’d be out after his one beer.
Listen to me
, he said to himself,
I sound like a clucking mother hen
. Such was the life of a sea captain, he decided. Always looking out for the lives of his crew.

Karl watched as Peder walked past the dusty saloon window. What did he know of troubles? The world was at his feet with Ramstad Yard coming together and Elsa at his side. Sure things between them were temporarily bridged, but how long could it last? God had granted him a reprieve, it seemed, after a night of fervent prayer. But he felt distant and sad, removed from all about him, trying to find the grace to praise the Lord for the respite. Perhaps after a while his life would feel good again, right again, he thought. Perhaps this path could work. Just to be sure, he would steer clear of Elsa.
That was it
, he coached himself.
Steer clear of Elsa and get your steamer built. After that, captain her while others are built in Camden. Reevaluate your life then
.

He sighed in relief at the thought. That’s what he needed. A new ship beneath his feet, a tropical island in the distance, and an all-male crew. Danger avoided. Righteousness upheld.

Suddenly he felt as free as when he successfully negotiated a threatening reef and the men on board cheered his expertise. Yes, even as Peder’s right-hand man and without the girl of his dreams, Karl Martensen would make something of himself.

E
lsa stood amid the throngs of people and the multitude of languages in the Boston train station, struggling to hold back her tears. Only two days ago they had disembarked from the
Herald
, laughing as many of the immigrants kissed the ground; now, suddenly, they were parting ways—some to the West and some to the North. She had been so caught up with the voyage itself, then the joy of their arrival and acceptance in America, that she had avoided the thought of parting with Kaatje and the others—especially Kaatje.

She knew she was being ridiculous as she clung to her dear friend, but she could not help herself. It was if she were leaving Bergen again.

“Please write,” she begged of Kaatje, pulling away.

“You know I will,” Kaatje said, reaching out to give her one more embrace.

Elsa turned to Soren and gave him a fierce look. She lowered her voice. “Promise me you will take care of her,” she demanded.

Soren laughed, embarrassed at such a command. “Of course. She’s my wife.”

Elsa leaned nearer to him, looking him dead in the eye. “No, Soren. I mean it. Promise me you will take care of her.”

“Of course,” he repeated, clearly irritated by now. He took Kaatje’s arm and picked up her bag. “Come, Kaatje. They’re boarding.”

“All aboard!” yelled the conductor as the train’s bell clanged. “All aboard!”

Kaatje stood on tiptoe and hugged Elsa once again, their tears mingling on Elsa’s cheeks. Then they parted, and in so doing, Elsa felt as if she were being ripped in half. She said good-bye to the others, wishing them all well and whispering advice until they were all on the Baltimore and Ohio train, waving their hats and handkerchiefs.

“Last call for the Baltimore and Ohio! Washington! Pittsburgh! Chicago!” yelled the conductor. “Last call for the B&O!”

“Good-bye!” Elsa called, wondering at the sorrow in her heart. It was always easier to leave than to be left, she reminded herself, and wondered if this was how her parents had felt as the
Herald
sailed out of sight.

Kaatje leaned out the window as the conductor blew the horn and the
ch-chuh
sound of the wheels gathered speed. She watched as Elsa and the others grew smaller in the distance and the train track gently swooped away. Would she ever see her beloved friend again? She hoped so. Kaatje felt sorrow at leaving a loved one behind, but it was good to be en route to their final destination. Soren took her hand as they settled back in their dilapidated, maroon, upholstered seats. One look at him and she knew he was already in North Dakota, sowing the seed, harvesting the crop.

Coal smoke drifted in the window, but with it came a gentle, blessed breeze that cut the awful humid air. Sweat trickled down under Kaatje’s corset, and she squirmed to get a better position to catch the breeze. She should have worn her cotton work dress, she thought, not this awful wool gown. But pride had urged her to don her best,
stifling though it was. Her fellow Bergensers had done the same, and for a lot of poor farmers, they looked fairly nice, making their economy class coach car look nearly like first class.

Behind Kaatje and Soren sat Birger and Eira Nelson. Eira had a way with herbs and the healing arts; perhaps she would help Kaatje deliver her child when the time came. Behind them were the two bachelors: Nels, who exulted at the thought of all that land for his future sheep, and Mathias, the future cattle rancher who had been rechristened Matthew at the immigration hall. She smiled as she listened to him retell the story.

“So in front of me was a German Jew who was so flustered and confused when they asked his name, that he replied,
‘Ich vergessen—’ ”

“Which means ‘I have forgotten,’ ” Nora chimed in, as well versed in German as she was in English.

“To which the inspector said, ‘Welcome to America, Ike Fergusson. Next!’ ”

The whole train car laughed as one, enjoying the story again.

“And when I got up there, I did not argue either when I told him my name was Mathias, and he renamed me Matthew! I like having an American name,” he said proudly, fist to chest. “It makes me more at home already!”

Across the aisle from the rechristened Matthew sat Pastor Lien, his wife, Amalia, and their five-year-old daughter, Klara. Kaatje marveled at how good the little girl had been aboard the ship. She had played quietly and listened intently to her teacher, learning English much more quickly than many of the adults. In front of her sat her teacher, Nora, and Einar, the newlyweds, holding hands and talking softly, their heads close together. Kaatje was happy for their union. Nora had waited so long for Einar to propose. She shot a smile over at Nora. No, traveling with nine fellow Bergensers was better than none. Together, they could still be a community for one another until they found community with others.