Northern Lights Trilogy (39 page)

“I’m very sorry, John. The girl is new and inexperienced, but I didn’t know she was ill. We will see to the cleaning of your suit.”

“Fine, fine. Martensen? Martensen!” Hall turned to look at Karl over his shoulder before he could say a private word to Tora. “The maid will be fine. Get over here and listen to my plans. Together we are going to own the Great Northern! And Trent will feed our customers!”

When the train returned to Duluth that afternoon with the Hall party aboard, Karl had to fight off the urge to drag Tora off by the hand and demand her story. Instead, he continued as he had throughout the trip, steadily ignoring her. Still there was no getting past Alicia’s eagle eye. As much as he appreciated the attentions of the lovely Miss Hall, he felt as watched over as a goshawk. Sailor superstition maintained that a goshawk brought luck, but if hurt, would be the undoing of a ship. What would happen if he crossed Alicia?

At the station, he alighted from the Pullman, then reached up to help Alicia down the stairs. Once at his side, she entwined her arm in his. Since she was much shorter than he, Karl was careful to keep his stride short. He met her gaze and smiled. She was lovely and obviously very interested in him. He had to be the most blessed man in
America—a great new job and an attentive girl on his arm. After years of living in Peder’s shadow, the future was his. This had to be of God, he told himself. A normal path did not twist to blessings as it had for him.

Alicia squeezed his arm and looked at him steadily as they walked through the station and outside to a hotel coach that awaited them on the street. “So, Mr. Martensen, are you going to tell me about the girl?”

“The girl?” he feigned ignorance.

“The girl,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Out with it. Who is she? An old love?”

“She’s from Bergen too. I knew her a very long time ago.” Karl did not know why he protected Tora; he just did. It irked him that he was not entirely honest with Alicia, but somehow he had the distinct understanding that if Alicia felt that someone was in her way, she would destroy her. Like her father before her, he mused, remembering Brad’s warning. Tora was obviously trying to make a new start in life. Could he deny her a second chance?

“Well, I must say, Mr. Martensen, I am relieved you do not have feelings for her. She’s obviously an incompetent servant, not worthy of your attentions.”

“As opposed to you, Miss Hall?”

“Why, I would not even care to compete with the girl. It is obvious for all the world to see that you only have eyes for me. She would be hurt.”

Karl grinned at her precocious words. “We cannot have that,” he said.

Alicia was a very pleasant distraction indeed, he thought. Given enough time, and with her on his arm, Elsa would recede completely from his thoughts, becoming a dim shadow in the bright light of his future.

B
y June, Peder had improved remarkably. In the last week, he had even taken to standing at the helm for an hour a day. Not his usual six, but thrilling for Elsa to see anyway. The crew relaxed, again under the supervision of their well-respected captain instead of his bride—and Elsa relaxed too. She began a new painting, of the
Sunrise
battling to pass the Horn, interrupting it occasionally to sketch rare seabirds that she had never seen before.

She and Peder greeted each morning side by side on deck, the crew about them. Peder had taken to leading them in a brief morning prayer, and it gladdened Elsa’s heart. Apparently their adventures in the West Indies, Karl’s sudden departure, and Peder’s illness had brought him closer to the Lord than ever.
You see
, she mused silently,
all things do work together for good
. If only
she
felt closer to him. It was more than his illness and the responsibility of his captaincy. Peder had grown distant, aloof. She must find out what was troubling him, for something obviously was.

She raised her nose to smell the cool breezes that coaxed the sails high above them to a full loft. They traveled in a northeasterly
direction now, the sails close-hauled to make the most of the wind. Soon they would reach the equatorial calms, or doldrums. They’d had little trouble at that latitude in the Atlantic. Would they have a more difficult time in the Pacific? She hoped not. Suddenly Elsa ached for land. For a good meal at a fine restaurant. To discover a new city. San Francisco promised to be grand.

As the crew dispersed that morning, Elsa drew Peder aside. “May I speak to you in private?”

Peder raised one eyebrow. “Certainly. Our cabin?”

“No. Up here. Follow me.” She hoped he would smile, but he did not.

“What is so important that you must pull me away like this?” She ignored his irritable tone and led him forward to the bow, pulling him close when they were behind the foremast. How good it felt to be in her husband’s arms again! She stared up into his eyes, noting that the malarial yellow was beginning to recede in favor of the bright white of health. There was even some color in his cheeks now. If she could just get him to eat more
…

“Elsa?” Peder asked in irritation. His hands dropped from her side.

She looked at him quickly. Yes, something was definitely bothering him. It was more than his illness, the Horn, and his mate again in chains below.

“Peder, please,” she begged, growing more alarmed. She took his hand in hers. “Tell me. What is bothering you? What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you. Us. What has happened? There is a wall between us.”

“I do not know of what you speak.” His jaw was tight, clenched.

“You do,” Elsa said softly. “Please tell me.”

“Not now, Elsa. I have a ship to tend to.” He turned to walk away, paused, then looked over his shoulder at her. “If that makes you unhappy, you need to rethink your course of action.”

Elsa frowned, wanting to weep in frustration. What was he talking about? Of course he had to tend ship! But why not talk to her? What was wrong?

Elsa felt her heart sink. If they could not even discuss it, how would they ever resolve it?

It was the third time that week that Trent Storm had come to call on Tora, and the girls in the dormitory were in a frenzy.

“He’s in love! The man’s in love!” Missy Alexander said from the doorway, enviously watching Tora brush out her hair and wind it into a graceful chignon.

Tora picked up the beautiful pearl comb that Trent had given her the day before and thought about Missy’s words. The girl was an idiot in most cases, but perhaps she was right. If so, it was a minor miracle, Tora thought, remembering that horrible day over a month ago on the Manitoba train.

She had left the Pullman car last, barely able to hold back her tears. To begin again would take weeks, and her resources could not handle such a setback. Why, she would have to sell her gowns just to pay the hotel manager!

A hand reached out to her, and she glanced up. Trent Storm stood on the platform below, waiting to help her down the stairs.

“There is no need to fire me, Mr. Storm,” she said as she took his hand. “I know I failed you. I … I don’t know what happened. Suddenly I felt so faint.”

His eyes, instead of being angry, held compassion and concern. With a hint of doubt. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

“Who?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“That man. Karl Martensen.”

“He looked familiar,” she hedged. “It brought back bad memories that I’d rather not go into.” Tora pulled out the stops on her feminine wiles, aware that Trent was opening an escape hatch. She fanned
herself with her hand as if faint again, hoping to distract him. “If you’ll excuse me,” she gambled, “I’ll get out of your way, Mr. Storm. Surely you have many girls more suitable to apply for this job. Good day.”

She walked away, her head high, her heart sinking with each step she took away from him. Her pace slowed to a dispirited trudge. Her ruse had not worked. She had talked herself out of the job, not secured it. Would she ever learn when to speak?

Two blocks away, she dared to look back to the station. Trent was nowhere to be seen. Her spirits dismal, she slowly walked back to her hotel. As she climbed the steps, however, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Trent Storm sat in a chair on the porch, rocking as if he had all the time in the world. He was dreadfully handsome, she thought, and as dangerous-looking as a riverboat gambler she had seen en route to Minnesota.

“You’ll have to move faster than that if you wish to work for me, Miss Anders.”

“W-work for you?”

“Indeed. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I find it amusing to think about.”

Miffed at being a target of his amusement, Tora looked away, debating between her desire to tell him what he could do with his job and her dire need of employment. He smiled as if reading her thoughts.

“Are you seriously offering me the job, Mr. Storm?” she asked, unable to curb the insolence in her voice.

His smile turned into a grin, revealing even, white teeth. “Yes, you will be fascinating,” he said.

“Are you quite finished being entertained?” She turned to go.

“One more thing. Miss Anders.”

“Yes?”

“Is there someone I should speak to? You see, I would like to call upon you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Tora’s mind whirled. “Why, Mr. Storm, is that acceptable? What would your friends say?”

He laughed. “Miss Anders, I live to please myself alone. So is there someone I should speak to? Or will you turn me down here and now?”

Tora stuck her nose in the air. “You may call on anyone you wish. Good day, Mr. Storm.”

His laughter followed her into the hotel. And then he called, “See you tomorrow at eight, Miss Anders!”

Thus their relationship had begun. It was a confusing mix of employer and employee, widower and young love. Love? Yes, she supposed it could be true. But what was love to feel like? And could the man of her dreams have popped up so soon, so easily on her path? It seemed odd to her that something would come without striving. Surely it was a sign that something better was around the next corner. Perhaps Trent Storm was only her entrée to society. From there, she might meet another.

She frowned into the mirror. Why was it so difficult to envision herself with another? He had only been courting her for what, a month? Yet somehow he had seeped into her life so thoroughly that she could not remove him from her mind.

“Missy,” she said, deciding to take control. “Please send word down to Mr. Storm. I am not well and wish to lie down. Make my apologies for me.” She turned the pearl comb over in her hand. He was so
sure
he had her. Well, no one had Tora Anders until she wanted to be had. It was high time that Trent Storm learned she would not be at his beck and call.

Karl made his way out of the stuffy cabin crowded with people and perfume, glad for the fresh air off the Saint Croix River. The Halls
frequently hosted parties aboard their steamboats, chugging for hours along the riverbanks as their guests drank themselves into oblivion. Karl had had his share that night and was feeling a bit woozy by the time he reached the railing. He had been with John J. Hall Incorporated for over a month, and his skyrocketing career had made him numb to his surroundings.