Northern Lights Trilogy (84 page)

She grabbed a shawl and walked toward him, green pine cones scattering away from her boots as she stepped. He smiled at her—a warmer, friendlier grin than she had ever seen on him—and offered her his arm. She gladly took it. “You look relaxed,” she said.

“I am. I’m in a beautiful part of the country, courting the woman I love again.”

Tora looked down at her feet, relishing his words, but wondering if she should say something to halt their progress. She did not know where God would take her, but she knew she had to follow his direction for her life. She hated the idea that Trent would not be a part of it, but something in her heart niggled at her, warned her that it might just play out that way. Surely God would not be so unfair!

They walked down to the beach in companionable silence. The tide was out, and the sun had just sunk over the horizon, leaving a pink hue in the sky that darkened to a lavender around the edges of the few clouds above and cast a purplish glow over the still waters.

“Feels like summer is on its way,” Trent said, bending to pick up a rounded turquoise rock and examine it.

“It does. I suppose you’ll be heading home soon.”

He looked at her quickly. “Not at all. I am enjoying this. This time with you, Tora. We were always so rushed before. I think it was one of our mistakes. No time to simply get to know each other. This month has been invaluable.”

They walked a bit farther. Tora said, “Perhaps if we had had time together before, you would have dismissed any notion of a relationship with me.”

“Perhaps. But you are different now.”

“In fundamental ways.” She stopped to peer at him in the growing shadows. “I must know something, Trent. You know that I have made a commitment to Christ, one that still feels odd to talk about, yet right in my heart. Do you consider yourself a Christian as well?”

Trent looked out to sea, at her, then to the trees beside them. “I find it very interesting that as God was at work in you, he was at work
in me as well. I have always been a Christian man, although I have frequently allowed my work to get in the way of regular worship. In my concern for you.” He paused to stroke her cheek and jawline. “I had no other place to turn. I was sure that he had given me no other option but to leave you. But when you disappeared … when your note was found and I read that hint of a change in you … when I could not find you—” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to gather himself. “Once again, God was giving me no choice but to lean on him, to trust in him. And then I come to find out he was holding you close all along.”

Tora stared at him, wondering at the care and concern in his voice. She smiled a little. “I am glad that God has drawn you closer too.” She began walking again, concern speeding her heartbeat more than the exercise. “There is another thing we must talk about.”

Trent took her arm and strolled beside her, waiting for her to speak.

“You have been here a month, and we’ve talked of so much. But never have we spoken of my child, my daughter, Jessica. Kaatje is a good mother to her—she loves Jessica with all her heart. But I’m still struggling …”

He stopped her and turned her toward him, then took both of her hands in his. “That is the most amazing part of the change in you that I see, Tora. What was done with Jessica is done. I know you will find a way to try and make amends as best you can. And I will stand beside you.”

He sounded confident in his words, but Tora wanted to be sure. She turned away from him, unable to bear watching his kind expression. “Knowing how I lived, the mistakes I made, the heartless way I acted … I would understand if you wanted to walk away. I do not want you to be with me out of some sense of … obligation.”

“Tora,” he said, coming around her so he could see her face. “God is in the business of making ugly things beautiful. He’s done it with you already. I can see it. I want to marry you. You’ve told me that you
are a new creation, and I believe you. How many times have I made my own mistakes? How many times have I made decisions for my own personal gain that hurt others? I shudder to think about it. I want your second chance to be our second chance. Let’s begin again.”

Tora smiled through her tears as she looked up at him. “We will see, Trent Storm. We will see. Let us wait for a while, shall we? All my life I’ve been in such a rush. For now, I want only to wait for the Lord’s direction.”

When Trent looked downcast, she laid a gentle hand on his chest. He glanced at her. “I am praying that God will have marriage in our future. I am praying specifically for that,” she said.

Trent only nodded.

Elsa saw Kaatje and the girls off on the train two weeks later and boarded the
Grace
the day afterward. She grinned when she saw Riley at the top of the gangplank. They shook hands formally, their eyes conveying more emotion.

“It’s good to have ya back aboard, Missus,” Riley said, moving to ruffle Kristian’s sandy hair. The boy moved into his arms with delight, wrapping his legs around Riley’s waist and clinging to him like a lost monkey to his newly found master.

“Where’s Cook?” Kristian asked in excitement.

“Here, young master,” said the short Chinese man softly from behind them. Riley turned, and Kristian dropped from his arms to the deck and ran to Cook, fiercely embracing his leg. If Elsa was not mistaken, there was a tear in the stalwart Chinaman’s eye.

Of all her old crew, these two were the only ones she had shanghaied from other Ramstad ships. On her first voyage out, she had bowed to Kaatje’s advice to seek their support, if no one else’s. “Thank you, gentlemen, for agreeing to serve me on the
Grace,
” she said assertively, looking at one and then the other. Of the two, it had been a greater sacrifice for Riley, who had captained the
Grace
from Camden-by-the-Sea, and the
Eagle
to Camden after leaving Elsa and Kristian in
Seattle. Yet Riley had come up with the idea, claiming it would be an honor to serve as her first mate on their voyage to Japan. “I’ll no’ take any other position,” he had insisted upon their encounter three weeks past.

“Stubborn man,” Elsa had jested, while inwardly thanking God for his fearsome loyalty. “I’ll be honored to have you stand by my side as I regain my sea legs.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” he said. “By your leave. I’ll look into potential cargo from Seattle to the Orient.”

“Very good. I’ll assume we’ll haul wood from Ramstad Lumber Yard, unless you come across something more profitable,” she directed, feeling the power of command for the first time in a long while. She felt stronger, more vital for it.

“Captain?” Riley asked, bringing her mind back to the present. “I’d like to introduce you to our second mate, Eric Young.”

Elsa shook the man’s hand, observing his broad shoulders and reddish-blond hair. His eyes were a light blue, his complexion ruddy. But mostly she studied his eyes. There she could see good humor and a hint of challenge. A hint was to be expected. It was a full-blown challenge she would rather not face. How would he feel about serving a female captain, and a new mother at that? She knew that some men would have a difficult time taking orders from a woman. But there would be time enough to show Eric and the rest of the men that she was not some soft socialite taking on a ship’s duty as a lark. She meant this to be the first voyage of the rest of her life.

“Where do you hail from, Mr. Young?” she asked.

“These last ten years, I’ve been sailing for an operation out of San Francisco.”

“And what brought you to us?”

“Got into a bit of a scrape last time we came out of Caracas. A storm landed the remains of my ship on the coast of Trinidad. Lost all I had and most of my crew as well.”

“Terrible,” Elsa said, careful to not seem too moved by the traumatic story. “You were her captain?”

“No, ma’am. I was the second, just as I’ll be for you.”

Elsa nodded. “So why did you not ship out again for the same operation?”

“It was a small operation. Changes in management over the years had not endeared them to me. I figured it was God’s way of turning me in a different direction, so when a Ramstad ship came by, I signed on as a crew member and got to know our first mate here en route.”

Elsa nodded again, glad to hear that Riley had had some experience with the man. She trusted his judgment. “I hope you’ll be pleased with this new direction God has taken you.”

Eric smiled appreciatively at her. “It will be interesting, to say the least, ma’am.”

There was a glint in his eye that reminded Elsa of Stefan, her wayward first mate who had been placed in chains for making unwanted advances on her. But she dismissed it. Her heart told her he was merely playing, flirting in the idle fashion of all sailors. There would be time enough to show him she meant business, from launch to landing.

“Gather the men, Mr. Young,” she commanded, beginning her duties in earnest. “Introduce them to your captain and then we shall be under way.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” he said.

Elsa turned and greeted Mrs. Hodge, showing her the way to the captain’s quarters, which were made up of five rooms on the main deck: her own stateroom, a study, the dining room, a quickly altered nursery, and another bedroom for Mrs. Hodge. It was lovely, Elsa thought as she ran her hands along the woodwork she knew her friends in Camden had labored over. They were turning out first-rate ships for Ramstad Yard, and Elsa smiled. Peder would have been proud.

Mrs. Hodge took Eve from her as the men gathered outside and
Elsa hurriedly changed into dungarees and a loose-fitting white blouse. She belted the pants at the waist and smiled at herself in the mirror. Most of the men outside would be surprised, but she needed every nuance to help convince them she was as capable as the next man to run the
Grace
. Squaring her shoulders, she left the stateroom and, looking down, resolutely walked up the outside stairs to the platform above her quarters.

There she turned, placed her hands in A-fashion on the banister before her and looked each man in the eye as Riley called, “Gentlemen! Meet your new captain, Elsa Ramstad!”

They paused for a moment, then collectively nodded toward her in deference. All in all, it was a warmer reception than she had anticipated. But when one lone man started clapping from the back of the crowd and others joined him, she was taken aback.

She glanced at Riley in concern.

“It’s all right, Cap’n,” he reassured, and cocked his head to one side. “I told ’em what you did the night Peder was swept overboard. Thought it might pave the way a bit.” He glanced at her nervously.

Elsa nodded slightly, glad for the explanation. She motioned for the men, ninety-eight in all, to settle down. “Good morning, men. Thank you for your welcome. As you have gathered, this is the first time I have been aboard ship since I left the sea to mourn my husband. There is no doubt that I have a lot yet to learn, but I think you will find me a fair and decent captain. Having traveled with my husband, Peder, and our first mate, Riley, here, for several years gave me the opportunity to learn a lot about running a tight ship. Being female does not mean I will be soft. When discipline is demanded, I will see to it. Do not cross me, and we shall get along fine.”

The men shifted under her gaze. “I know it is unusual to serve under a woman,” Elsa said, her tone never softening, never giving an edge to any doubt they might be feeling. “But there have been many fine, honest female captains, and some dishonest female pirate captains as well. Be glad I am of the first variety.” The men laughed.

“Mr. Riley will see to your duties. I say make this a profitable excursion for Ramstad Yard, and I’ll see to it that you are all rewarded with bonuses that will surpass those of any other sailor. Done?”

“Done!” the men roared.

“Man the capstan!” Elsa commanded.

“
Man the capstan!
” Riley echoed.

“See to it that we’re under way in short order, Riley.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n. Haul in the anchor!”

She turned to the crowd and nodded once, dismissing them. Within the hour, all sails were unfurled and the
Grace
was riding the high seas again. Elsa breathed a sigh of relief and retreated to her quarters to check on her children.

That night, after Kristian and Eve were in bed and fast asleep, Elsa donned a warm coat and left her quarters to walk the deck. She paused at the bow, relishing the stinging, salty spray of the ocean as the waves passed beneath the
Grace
’s hull. She did not grab the rail, wanting to feel the pound and pull of the ocean’s momentum as her ship danced upon it. Her sea legs had returned quickly.

They headed in a southwesterly direction, so it was only as she turned back toward her quarters that she spied movement in the north skies. She picked up her pace, making her way to the stern. This time, she gripped the rail as she looked heavenward. There, blue and purple lights danced in the sky.

Quick tears laced her lashes. For in seeing the northern lights, it was as if the hand of her father was on one shoulder behind her, and Peder’s hand on the other. Above her, God himself was casting an artistic composition of nature’s most miraculous lights across the canvas of his sky. Surely, this was reassurance that she was on the right path. She had not seen the aurora borealis for many, many months. Her heart soared. “Thank you, Lord. Papa, I miss you. Peder, I miss you as I would my right arm. Nothing seems right without you here,” she whispered. “Thank you for being with me. For watching out for me.”

She stood there until the cold got the better of her, then returned to her quarters. Unable to sleep, she entered the study, took pen, ink, and paper from her desk, and prepared to write her first column for the
New York Times
since her hiatus. She began by doing a quick self-portrait of herself on deck addressing the men, a rare perspective. Most of her illustrations for the
Times
had been of others, but she felt it important that her audience see her as her crew had seen her today. It would give them a sense of being there that Elsa knew would thrill her editor. Later, she dipped her pen in the cobalt ink, blotted it, and paused over the paper, choosing her words carefully for the accompanying article.