Northern Lights Trilogy (73 page)

“I see,” Karl said, following Gerald’s gaze to a portly woman he supposed was Mrs. Kenney and to his two young daughters. “I’ve just returned to sailing myself. Docked last week from Seattle.”

“Seattle? Were you on the
Silver Sea
, by chance? Serving under Captain Stover?”

“Aye. He’s a very fine captain.”

“That he is. I believe he was actually here at this service. Have you been a sailor long?”

“Just returned after a bit of an absence. To be honest, I cannot wait to get back to it.”

“Understood,” Gerald said, his eyes brightening. “Nothing like the sea, and the anchor,” he added meaningfully, gesturing toward his watch, “to remind a man of what is important.”

Karl met his glance, wondering if Gerald was possibly talking about his faith as well as the ocean. One look, and he recognized a brother in Christ.

“Hayden!” Gerald called, motioning for Karl’s captain to join them. The two men shook hands, clearly old friends, and shared Christmas blessings.

When Captain Stover turned to see who else was with him, he smiled, and said, “Why, Martensen! Good to see you! Merry Christmas!”

“And to you too, sir,” Karl said, returning the captain’s firm handshake.

“This man,” Captain Stover said, speaking to Gerald Kenney
while placing a hand on Karl’s shoulder, “signed on as a common deck boy but could’ve been running my ship.”

Karl shifted uneasily under the praise.

“Where’d you get your experience, son?” Gerald asked.

“Sailed for some time out of Boston Harbor, then later for an operation out of Camden, Maine. Of late I have been making my own investments along the interior riverways in steam and the like.”

“Ah, I see,” Gerald said.

“Got to Seattle last month and found that God wanted me to take a new direction. At least for a while,” he said uneasily. Speaking overtly of his Lord still was a bit awkward to him. “The sea is the place for me; I was born to be on the water. I’ve taken a leave of absence from my regular duties. My business partner will carry on without me until I decide to stay ashore.”

“When do you ship out again?” Captain Stover asked him. “Will you be rejoining my crew?”

“It would be a pleasure, sir,” Karl said. “I simply have not decided where I am to go next.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime, Martensen,” the captain said. “If I didn’t have a first mate that was like a brother to me, I’d hire you on as such.”

“That’s high praise, sir. Have a very merry Christmas.”

“And to you.” He turned to Gerald with a nod. “Kenney. Don’t eat too much turkey.”

“Only until I cannot move a muscle.” Gerald turned and motioned toward his family. The ladies walked toward them in genteel fashion, and Karl smiled at all three, making the young women blush. “Mr. Martensen, may I present my lovely wife, Rosalind, and my daughters, Nina and Mara.”

Karl bowed slightly. “So pleased to meet you all. Merry Christmas.”

“And to you, Mr. Martensen,” Rosalind said warmly.

“Mr. Martensen just docked from Seattle,” Gerald said. “I thought we might have him join us for dinner—”

“Oh, that’s very kind, but—” Karl interrupted.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Kenney said, hearing no excuses. “There’s no friend like a new friend, and we’d be pleased as punch if you would join our Christmas celebration.” The girls giggled in unison and ducked their heads when Karl looked their way.

“Well, this is truly a surprise. Thank you. Shall I come to your home later?”

“No, no. Our celebration begins now,” Mrs. Kenney said. “Follow us, if you’re free to do so.”

“Of course. Again, I am humbled by your generosity.”

“It’s Christmas!” Gerald said. “No time like the present to follow the example set by Christ himself.”

Trent had spent Christmas morning with his great-aunt and was relieved when he could excuse himself by noon. The woman was tiresome, never doing anything but complain, and to make things worse, she ate to the point of gluttony, often allowing crumbs to spill out upon her lips and her breast. They had nothing in common. She even refused to attend church with him that morning, wanting nothing to do with “those hypocrites” at Duluth’s First Presbyterian, or any other church for that matter. Her life was empty and angry, and Trent wished he had more family than her. He longed for his dead wife. He longed for the children they never had. He longed for Tora Anders.

For all her foibles and grand ambition, Tora was filled with the spark of life. He felt drained just thinking about it. Had he made the mistake of his life in letting her get on that train to the Montana territory four years ago? Had he made a bigger mistake closing her out and shutting her business down last summer? Sickened at the thought, he roamed through the tall, silent grand hall of his home and to his office.

There, on a massive mahogany desk, under a brass paperweight, was the letter he had read a hundred times.

He was still there, standing quietly, struck numb by conviction, when a knock sounded at the front door. The servants had been dismissed for the day, cozily tucked into their homes and surrounded by family. The sheer emptiness of it all hit Trent once again, and he wearily headed to the door. Who could be out and about on Christmas Day?

The front door came open with a creak at its massive hinges. A small boy was outside, shivering in the cold. He stretched out a tiny hand. “A message for you, sir. Urgent from the telegraph office.”

Trent dug in his pocket for two bits. “Thank you, son. Merry Christmas.”

“And you, sir!” he exclaimed, looking at his palm and the coin.

Trent did not wait to see him out the gate. He closed the door, ignoring the irritating squeak that usually drove him to distraction. Curious, he opened the telegraph envelope before returning to his study.

Trent sat down heavily, suddenly feeling every hour of his forty-two years. Tora was alive. Not in good condition, it appeared. But alive. When Joseph had reported his suspicion that she had been kidnapped by some cowhands passing through, Trent had become physically sick. It had all been his fault. To what had he exposed her? Why hadn’t he been more understanding? Why hadn’t he married her when he had the chance? Perhaps if …

He stopped himself right there, knowing that God had answered his questions long ago. There had been a reason that Trent saw no way other than to let her go. It had been so clear to him at the time—that she had to go her own way to discover what was truly important, what was vital in her life, before they would ever have a chance together. She had been deluded, chasing empty dreams, and she had to see that for herself, since she would have never heard it from him. He clung to that truth, that understanding in his heart. For every day he doubted it. How could God have led her to such a dangerous path? How could he have taken her from the safety of Trent’s wing to the streets of Seattle? Was she ill? Would they ever have a chance again?

Quickly, he reached for his pen and dipped it in ink to draft a return telegraph message.

He paused to pull out a drawer and consult a train schedule, then returned to his missive.

Karl smiled happily as he exited his rented coach. Life was an adventure! One never knew what the next turn in the road would bring, what friend he would meet next. He was amazed at the instant camaraderie he had felt with Gerald Kenney, and breathed a silent prayer of thanks for an entire new family he instinctively knew would become dear friends. There was something about them all that reminded him of the Bergensers. And the feeling made him jubilant.

Mrs. Kenney opened the door, welcoming Karl inside. “Come in, come in, Mr. Martensen. You may give your overcoat to Ronni, here,” she said, gesturing toward a diminutive maid beside her. “Then my Mr. Kenney is awaiting you in his study. He’ll be pleased to share some refreshment with you while I oversee the kitchen staff. My girls have retired for a bit.”

Karl smiled at the tiny, round woman who reminded him of a tough sea captain thinly disguised in feminine ways and garb. No doubt Gerald had his hands full with this one. It was just what Karl sought in a wife—a mind of her own, strong ways, but never losing the charm of womanhood. A woman like her would be a true helpmeet. A friend. A mate for life. He sighed, dismissing the question that crossed his mind every once in a while: When would he meet the right
match for him? Perhaps it was never to be. And perhaps it would not mean emptiness for his life, if he could fill it with people he enjoyed like the Kenneys. Surely there were other ways on God’s fine earth to find peace, fulfillment.

Gerald turned from a map of the Northern Territories on his wall. “Ah, Martensen,” he said, reaching out a hand to his guest. He nodded toward the map. “A gift from my daughters. You’ve seen much of it, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Karl said, envisioning each place as if he were there again. “There are many beautiful sights.”

“And plenty of business opportunities, yes?”

“Indeed. The West is full of opportunity. But then I like to think the entire world is our Creator’s richest blessing. We have yet to see but a tiny portion of what he has to offer us.”

Kenney smiled, looking as pleased as if he had come up with the concept himself. “A fine idea,” he enthused. “Has it been your thought for long?”

“A most recent idea, actually,” Karl said. “You see, I was away from my Savior for some time.” It amazed him how the words came from his mouth effortlessly now. Heretofore, speaking of Christ made him vaguely uncomfortable. But now, it was as if something significant had shifted within him, making him feel as if talking about Jesus and his lead were as easy as speaking of the beauty of San Francisco Bay. A major reason had to be Gerald’s own openness, he decided.

“Astounding news,” said Gerald. “I am so glad you’ve found your way home, son.”

And as Karl stared back into his eyes, he had the distinct feeling that Gerald too felt something like kinship.