Read Northern Lights Trilogy Online
Authors: Lisa Tawn Bergren
Northern Lights Trilogy (95 page)
“Here,” she said, handing her a steaming plate. “Cover that with a dish towel to try and keep it warm and take it to the barn. Ladies, I’ll need all of you who are available too.”
They were all seated minutes later, an amazing feat with so many children in the mix. Everyone was hungry, she supposed.
That will help every time
. Gazing around the happy faces passing dish after dish, Elsa grinned too. Life was good. She had been given much. And she would give thanks until the day she died.
As tempting as Elsa’s invitation to join them in the valley had been, Karl had to get back to San Francisco to deliver his load. When he knocked on the door of the Kenneys’ home, he thought of Elsa and her children, surrounded by their loving neighbors and friends of the Skagit Valley. They would be well cared for. He was confident in it. But there still was the slightest pang in his heart, a vague sense of missing something …
“Karl!” Mrs. Kenney squealed, opening her arms to him as he moved past the maid. He was briefly enveloped by her voluptuous body and then released to face her giggling girls.
“Hello, Mr. Martensen,” said Mara coquettishly.
“Mr. Martensen,” flirted Nina, echoing her sister.
“Ladies,” he said gallantly, giving them each a nod and a grin. In the months that he had been at sea, they had grown more lovely, but he was as sure as ever that his role for them would never be anything other than brotherly.
“Martensen!” Gerald said, coming out of his study to heartily shake the younger man’s hand.
“Gerald, it’s good to see you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“And to you, my boy. And to you. Come in. Let me get you some refreshment,” he paused, looking pointedly at the maidservant, “and the ladies can join us in the parlor before dinner.”
“After we freshen up, Papa,” Mara said demurely.
“Yes, yes. Come when you can,” he said, waving her off.
“I will get the hors d’oeuvres,” Mrs. Kenney said. “Please, Karl, leave your coat and hat with Ronni.”
As directed, Karl slipped out of his coat and handed it and his hat to the maid. He followed Gerald into the parlor, smiling at the crackling fire in the fireplace and candles lit about the room. It was warm and cozy, the perfect place for a man to think, on a day such as this, about what he had been given.
“You got the wood off-loaded,” Gerald stated, sitting down and handing Karl a crystal glass.
“Yes. With little difficulty. Seems there’s as great a hunger for quality lumber down here as there ever has been.”
“Excellent. Excellent, my boy. Will you make some more runs for me?”
Karl smiled and hesitated. “Actually, Gerald, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that.” He edged forward in his seat. “Perhaps we should discuss it later, after dinner.”
“No, no. Out with it.”
“Well, you see, Gerald, you and I met at just the right time for me to accept captaincy of your ship. It seemed providential, right. And I have no quarrel with how you run your company or pay me,” he said urgently, searching his friend’s eyes. “The thing is that I’m not being a wise investor. I have enough capital to captain my own ship, and would like to have my own steamer built. My time sailing as a captain without more than a partial buy into the load was good, but it’s not wise for me to continue doing so. Not when I could be sailing my own ship, and taking a hundred percent of the profit.”
Gerald chuckled and sat back. “I had no idea. I had no idea you
had the means to buy your own vessel. I suppose I should be glad I got you when I did, son. You’ve done well for me and my investments.”
Karl cocked his head, a bit embarrassed. “It takes a while to have a ship built. And I’ve just finished a design that I’ll order from Ramstad Yard in Camden. For the next year, I’ll continue captaining your vessel, if you’ll have me. Then we’ll need to find a qualified man to take over.”
“What can I say?” Gerald asked. “I hate to think of losing you at all, but I am glad that I had you for a while.”
“Oh, you’re not losing me, Gerald. I intend to be a friend to the Kenneys for a good long while.”
“Oh?” said Mara, entering the room. She smelled of spicy perfume. Gerald grinned as he looked from one to the other.
“Yes,” Karl said, shifting uncomfortably under her girlish gaze. Clearly, she had misinterpreted his words. But before he could say more, her sister and mother entered the room, and their conversation took another tack. Karl sighed. Surely, at some point, this too would have to be dealt with.
A
knock at their door one late November evening startled Tora and Kaatje as they huddled near their tiny woodstove. “Who could that be?” Tora muttered.
“I hope everyone is all right,” Kaatje added as she went to the door and opened it to see Trent Storm.
“Come on! You have to see them!” Trent practically shouted, unperturbed by the women shushing him. Christina peeked out from behind the curtain that separated their “kitchen” from the “bedroom” of their one-room home. Here in the new territory, there was precious little to choose from when it came to housing arrangements.
“What, Trent? See who?”
He grabbed her shawl by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You too, Kaatje. Get your girls up. It’s magnificent!”
“What? Trent Storm, what do you mean, taking us outside on such a cold night?” Kaatje demanded in a friendly, wondering tone. Still, she motioned toward Christina, who with a squeal went to awaken Jessica. After throwing on more clothes, they moved outside as a group.
Tora smiled as soon as they were away from the house. To the
north, the aurora borealis was shining in such splendor that it took her breath away.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Trent exclaimed, placing an arm around Tora and another around Kaatje as they stared together. The girls stood in front of them, laughing and dancing at the sight.
“Not since—” Kaatje began.
“Bergen,” Tora finished. “But even there, I do not suppose I ever appreciated what I was seeing.” Over the mountains, streaks of purple and blue extended toward them, with red waves crossing the others as if a heavenly weaver were working on a fantastic loom.
“Do they appear often here?” Kaatje asked hopefully.
“On cold, clear nights, through April, I’m told,” Trent said. “We could see them at times in Minnesota, but nothing like this.”
“I’m so glad they’re here,” Tora said. There was something about the mere presence of the northern lights that gave her comfort, like a small hug sent from home.
“It is affirmation that we are on the right path,” Kaatje said. “Regardless of what is before us.” She moved away from the couple slightly and turned toward them, her face inscrutable in the near-darkness. “Thank you for coming with me, my friends,” she said. “I could not have done it without you.” Her voice broke a bit, and Tora moved nearer to her.
“No, Kaatje. Thank you for allowing us to come. I cannot begin to describe what it means to me.”
Kaatje shook her head, as if embarrassed. “Well, it is clear that you belong together. You two should marry.”
Tora smiled and took her hand. “Soon enough,” she said over her shoulder to Trent. “Very soon. But first, let us move forward as one. When you have found out what you need to about Soren, when I am sure that you and Jessie and Christina are well on your way—beside me or on your own—then Trent and I will marry.”
Kaatje turned to Trent. “I am sorry, Trent. You see how stubborn she is?”
Trent laughed and again placed an arm around each woman. “I recognize it. But for once her stubbornness is being used by the God who orchestrates nights like these,” he said, looking upward. “For now, I am content to be simply near Tora, and to be your friend too. I have a peace about it all that I cannot explain.”
“Then God go with us,” Kaatje whispered, looking upward with Trent. In the silence, the northern lights created a holy atmosphere. So great was the sight and their momentum, it was surprising that there was not anything audible to accompany such a cacophony of motion.
“God be with us,” whispered Trent.
“God
is
with us,” finished Tora.
To Andrea,
who inspired me with dreamy talk of one day seeing Alaska
and, since second grade, in many other ways as well.
With love.
It seems my books get more complicated with each one. A number of people helped me out with historical detail: the Alaska State Office of History and Archaeology; the Washington State Historical Society; and the medical part of my clan—Drs. Cecil and Nancy Leitch; Dr. Paul Amundson; and Ann Leitch (their personal medical librarian)—corrected me on wound description and helped me research treatment in 1888. Debi Wilson, a loving bookstore owner in Alaska, made sure this Rarely-Out-of-the-Lower-Forty-Eight-Author got things right in writing about the Land of the Midnight Sun and passed along the legend of Mount Susitna via Ann Dickson’s
Sleeping Lady
. My husband, Tim, Tricia Goyer, Anjie Mote, and Liz Curtis Higgs read the whole raw manuscript and pointed out glaring errors. In addition, Sandra Byrd graciously allowed me to retell her story from her fabulous, moving, children’s book
The White Pony
(you need a copy for every child you know). Last, but certainly not least, it must be stated that Traci DePree is my gifted editor and makes me look much better than I really am. To everyone I’ve named, or should have named, thanks.
ORTHERN
L
IGHTS
S
ERIES
The Captain’s Bride
Deep Harbor
Midnight Sun
LSO BY
L
ISA
T
AWN
B
ERGREN
Refuge
Torchlight
Treasure
Chosen
Firestorm
OVELLAS
:
“Tarnished Silver” in
Porch Swings
& Picket Fences
“Wish List” in
Silver Bells
“Sand Castles” in
A Mother’s Love
