Northern Lights Trilogy (69 page)

Elsa felt her furrowed brow relax a bit. She followed after Kaatje, wondering at her wisdom. Surely she would never forget Peder! The thought of not being able to remember his smell, his embrace, his laugh pained her. But right now, it was practically all she could think of. Perhaps one had to forget, just a little, in order to live without constant pain and grief.
But I am not ready
, Elsa thought, shaking her head.
I’m not ready to let my beloved go
.

She joined her friend on the rough-hewn bench that had been moved into the new barn. They were far enough away from the children to speak frankly, but close enough to enjoy watching them with the mother goat and her tiny, bleating kid. “Is that how you’ve done it?” she asked Kaatje. “Forgotten Soren, so you can move on?”

Kaatje smiled gently. “I didn’t forget him on purpose. It’s just that gradually, the minute-by-minute memories fade into hour-by-hour memories. Eventually those fade into day-by-day, and those in turn go to week-by-week. That is where I am now. I remember Soren—and you probably think I am crazy—but I still ache for him once in a while. But it’s only once in a week that I do so. Life,” she said, waving before and around her, “takes over. God heals the pain. And clears the way for a future.”

“Which will be …?”

“I don’t know. Lately, I’ve felt the urge to head north; to see if I can find out what happened to Soren. Like you still hoping that Peder somehow miraculously survived that storm, I still wonder if my husband is alive.”

“But if he is alive …”

“Yes. If he is alive, he has abandoned us. If I know that for sure, then I can say good-bye to a marriage that was apparently never as important to him as it was to me. And if he is dead, I can bury him in my heart. But if he is alive—” Her words faltered.

“If he is alive …” Elsa encouraged.

“If he is alive and he sees me and the girls, there might be some chance of reconciliation.”

Elsa swallowed hard. How could Kaatje desire reconciliation with such a man? She was certainly a better woman than Elsa to pursue such a dream.

“You don’t approve,” Kaatje said softly.

“I don’t understand.”

“Because of Tora?” she whispered.

“Because of her and all the affairs that went on before her. How can you love such a man?”

“You think I am weak?”

“I simply don’t understand.”

“At times, I do not understand myself. I seem to have this undying hope that Soren will see the light, to live as we have been taught,
and to cherish his family—whether by me or another—as the gift of God it is. I want to look him in the face once more and give him that chance.

“I have grieved for him as you grieve for Peder now. I don’t believe it will hurt as it did once. But I have to give him one more opportunity to redeem himself. If he turns from me, so be it.”

They were silent for several long minutes. “And what happens when he sees Jessica?” Elsa asked at last. “He doesn’t even know she exists.”

“Unless he received one of my letters.”

“Do you think that is why he disappeared? He could not confront the evidence of his own sin?”

“I do not know. That is why a part of me wishes to go, I suppose. To find out.”

Elsa took Kaatje’s hand. “I am so sorry for the burden Tora laid at your feet.”

Kaatje looked at her quickly, as if surprised and a bit offended. “Look at her, Elsa. Look at your niece! Isn’t she exquisite?”

Elsa looked across the room at Jessica, so lovely, so natural with the baby goat and its mother. “She is beautiful. From the inside out, thanks to you.”

“She is a gift. At first I could not believe the injustice of it all,” Kaatje murmured. “And then I realized that in the darkest moments of life Christ bestows upon us the grandest presents of all.”

Kaatje and Elsa prepared their contribution for Thanksgiving dinner the next morning—pressed cod and cabbage in sour cream—and bundled up the children for the ride to church and then to the Gustavsons’, who were hosting the meal. It was during the service, as they sang a hymn of thanks together, that Elsa nudged Kaatje in the ribs. Kaatje gave Elsa a puzzled look and silently reminded her to keep still in church.

Instead, Elsa leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Why don’t you and the girls winter with me in Seattle?”

Kaatje smiled, thinking over the outrageous possibility. What about her farm? Her animals?

“Einar would take care of the place,” Elsa whispered again, as if reading her mind.

Kaatje fought the urge to giggle, caught an older woman’s disapproving stare, and felt like a young girl again in Bergen. Elsa was forever getting her in trouble in church there, too. She shot Elsa a look that said,
We will talk about this later
.

Elsa nodded, smiling, and went on singing, obviously proud of herself for planting the seed. It would be good to get off the farm for the winter, Kaatje thought, to see the city and experience life with Elsa again. Elsa’s visit had brought back the sisterhood they had shared as children, and the thought of her leaving left Kaatje feeling a bit down. If Einar would care for the animals, what was to stop her?

After the service, Matthew greeted them outside and handed Kaatje a well-worn letter. “Postmaster asked me to give this to you a couple days back,” he said offhandedly.

Elsa took one look at the postmark and retorted, “So why didn’t you? Two days ago? Can’t you see it’s from Alaska?”

Matthew looked stupefied and backed away as if Elsa and Kaatje were two caged cougars about to escape. Elsa pulled her to the wagon, ignoring their friends’ curious stares. “Open it, Kaatje. Open it.”

Kaatje felt dizzy, bewildered. Her hand shook. “I cannot.”

“Do you wish to do so later?” Elsa said, apparently wondering for the first time if Kaatje desired more privacy.

“I do not know.” She placed one hand to her forehead, feeling the dampness of perspiration even in the cold afternoon air.

“Come on, ladies!” Nora called. “Dinner’s waiting!” Her face was so jubilant that it felt distantly interesting to Kaatje to watch as it fell. Obviously, her own expression screamed that something was wrong.

“What is it?” Nora asked. “What’s the matter?” She murmured something to Einar and scrambled down off the wagon without waiting for assistance, then hurried over to them. “What?”

“Kaatje got a letter from Alaska,” Elsa whispered, conscious that others were staring at them curiously.

“Oh—” Nora said, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “From …”

“It’s not Soren’s handwriting,” Kaatje mumbled.

“Come,” Nora directed, taking charge as usual. “Come to the house, and you can go the back bedroom and have some privacy,” she said loudly, looking about them, “to read the news. Good or bad, this is Thanksgiving Day, and you have your friends about you, Kaatje.”

“Thank you, Nora,” she said. She looked up at Elsa. “Let’s do as she suggests.”

Quickly, Elsa gathered the children and they headed out to the Gustavsons’ farm. “Stay out of those pies, Kristian,” Elsa warned over her shoulder as they drove, but Kaatje heard her voice as if through a layer of dirt. It was muffled, distant. Her mind was in the Dakota Territory, the last time she had seen Soren. He had been so beautiful, so full of life. Was this the letter that would end it?

All the way to the farm, Kaatje remembered one day after another she had shared with Soren. None of the bad days, of course. All the good ones. And they were so sweet. He had been dear to her heart, and she supposed she held out more hope that he lived than she admitted. All at once, they had arrived at the Gustavsons’, and huge Einar easily lifted her to the ground. “You can go on in, Kaatje,” he said tenderly.

Nora waited at the door and took her coat, even as she waved down the hall. “Now you go and read your news. Do you want some company? Elsa?”

Dear Nora always did have an uncanny sense of what people needed. “Elsa. It would be good to have her with me.”

“Elsa! Elsa!” Nora called.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Elsa said. “I had to get the pies.” She took one look at Kaatje and immediately handed the pies and her coat to her hosts. “Come, Kaatje. Let’s get this over with.”

Feeling as if she were on a dreamwalk, Kaatje moved down the
dim hall and into a bedroom with a window. Nora and Einar had done well for themselves here in the valley, and their home showed the benefits of prosperity. It would have been nice to have a window in her new room, Kaatje thought.

“Kaatje?” Elsa asked carefully.

Kaatje’s mind came back to the present and what was at hand. “I … I have waited for a letter for so long.”

“Open it, Kaatje. I’m here. Together, we’ll face whatever’s inside.”

Kaatje nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed with Elsa and tentatively tore open the letter. She read aloud in a voice that she was not quite sure was audible. It didn’t matter; she read more for herself than Elsa anyway.

Kaatje let the letter fall to the bed. “Maybe … Perhaps he’s coming home.”

“To Dakota?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. If so, they’ll tell him where we are.”

Elsa looked down, not meeting her gaze. “Or he is not coming home at all.” She dared to glance up at Kaatje. “Winter’s soon upon us. Don’t you think he’d be here by now? Even if he went all the way to Dakota and back?”

“It depends.” She rose and paced before the window. “If he was on horseback, the journey could take months.”

“Horseback? You don’t think he would load his horse on a train and come that way?”

“But I’ve heard of trappers coming through the Yukon Territory, over into British Columbia, and down. If he was that far east—”

“Kaatje—”

“I know what you’re going to say! You do not want me to get my hopes up.” She looked up at Elsa suddenly, knowing by her expression that she believed Soren was dead. Kaatje shook her head slowly. “How could he be dead? I’d know somehow, wouldn’t I?” Elsa looked at her helplessly, and Kaatje remembered her talking about still thinking Peder would appear, miraculously alive. “You don’t know that Peder is dead either,” Kaatje said flatly, sitting again on the bed. “Perhaps we’ll never know.”

“Perhaps we’ll just have to live with that,” Elsa said gently. “Or maybe, just maybe, Soren will come riding into town. Does this mean you won’t come to Seattle with me?”

Kaatje shook her head, staring down at the letter. “No. I’ve waited half my adult life for Soren Janssen to come around. If he is alive, and he does come to me, he can take another journey and find me in Seattle. I’ll not put my life off until I know for sure. I want to live it.”

“You always were better at
hardunger
than I was,” Elsa said much later that evening as the two sat by the fire. She picked at her knitting, but
her mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts that distracted her from her counting.

“You do not concentrate,” Kaatje said quietly, still staring at her tiny needlework.

“I was thinking about Tora, wondering where she is tonight,” Elsa dared. “I wonder if she had a decent Thanksgiving. If she even knows she should be thankful for what she has.”

Kaatje set down her needlework and stared into the fire. “Tonight, as I tucked Jessie in, for the first time I was truly grateful to Tora for giving her to me. Not that I haven’t appreciated Jess before this,” she amended quickly. “It’s just that for the first time, I was really glad in my heart that Tora chose me to leave that precious girl to.”

“You realize, of course, that she probably thought of it as justice. A way of punishing Soren.”

“Sure, sure. But still, isn’t God good? What she meant for evil, he has used to bless me.”

“Jessie was blessed to get you as a mother, Kaatje,” Elsa said, reaching across to squeeze her friend’s hand. “Perhaps someday her real mother will realize what she lost.”

“Or perhaps not. Some people never see the error of their ways.”

“Like Soren?”

“And Tora. How many others have we known? If I’m ever that stubborn, promise me you’ll slap me across the face.”

“Kaatje!”

“Promise me.”

Elsa guffawed, but seeing her earnest expression, nodded once. “And you do the same for me. Just the thought of it is enough to keep me straight.”

Kaatje’s face melted into a grin. “You had better walk the straight and narrow.” She glanced back at the fire. “You’re sure you want us in Seattle for the winter? Will it not be too much?”

“It will ease my heart considerably. Going back to the house alone
with Kristian makes my heart ache. Your presence—and the girls’—will make it much easier to tolerate.”

“We cannot stay forever. The farm—I’ll get Einar to care for the animals and look in on the house. But I’ll need to return come springtime. I was thinking we should leave in a couple of weeks.”

“Grand! Just grand!” Elsa came out of her chair and knelt by Kaatje. “Thank you, friend, for this. I know it is not easy to leave your home.”

“And come to yours? Yes, I guess it will be a sheer sacrifice,” she said, amusement in her tone. “The girls will think they’ve died and gone to heaven.”