[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain

by Tracie Peterson

  “Of course not. I’d be happy to.” Phoebe’s mind raced with thoughts. What would she wear to the party? Would that be when she had a chance to first see him again? The waiting was so very hard. What if she’d only managed to create something in her mind that could never be? What if her heart was wrong and she found Dalton to be someone she couldn’t abide?

  Oh, why couldn’t the steamer arrive tomorrow and put her mind at ease?

  Just then, the front door burst open, and Kjerstin and Britta burst into the house in a frenzy of movement and conversation.

  “Mama, there was a fight at school today,” Britta announced.

  “It was bad. One of the boys got a bloody nose,” Kjerstin added.

  Phoebe watched as Lydia got to her feet to deal with the situation. “Well, hello to you, too,” their mother announced.

  “Joseph called Vasilla a smelly half-breed,” Kjerstin added.

  “His mother is a Tlingit, but his father is Russian. Teacher said he was a Creole.”

  “But he wasn’t smelly at all,” Britta interjected. “He was just fine. I played with him, and he took a bath just last Saturday.”

  The girls were so caught up in their reiteration of the details that they didn’t even seem to notice Phoebe. Britta explained Vasilla’s bathing routine in more detail. Apparently the boy always had a bath on Saturday before they went to church the next day. His mother and father were members at the Russian Orthodox Church, and they were very meticulous about Vasilla being clean before entering God’s house.

  Kjerstin was more concerned about the injustice of it all. She seemed appalled that the other children, as well as the teacher, put the entire responsibility for the altercation at Vasilla’s feet.

  “They don’t like him because he’s not all white. They said he should go to the native school,” Kjerstin announced. “I told them they were being silly, but they didn’t listen to me.” It was then that she seemed to notice Phoebe. “Your brother Grady called him a no-account dirty Injun.”

  “Well, my brother Grady will not go unpunished, I assure you,” Phoebe replied. She was angry to think that her brother had played a part in this matter. “He was not brought up to speak that way or to hold such thoughts. Our parents will be appalled.”

  Kjerstin nodded, satisfied at Phoebe’s response. She then looked to her mother. “Why are they so mean? They don’t like the Tlingits, and they don’t like people who are just part Tlingit.”

  Lydia shook her head. “They think the color of a person’s skin somehow makes them less valuable, but we know that isn’t true. God holds all mankind dear, and He’s the one who made us— colors and all.”

  “They have been misguided,” Zee threw in. “They don’t understand the culture and it makes them afraid.”

  “They also don’t bother to know it,” Lydia added, “and that makes them ignorant.”

  “Can’t they get to understand?” Britta asked. “I don’t want there to be more fights.”

  “I wish there wouldn’t be, either,” their mother said. “Still, I think as long as we have differences, someone will be happy to point them out—to even condemn a person for those differences. Someone won’t like blond hair. Someone else will think that being a girl is bad. Others might not like people who talk with an accent. There will always be something that displeases people.”

  Phoebe nodded. “And your mother and Zee are right. If the people would bother to learn about the cultures instead of condemning them, they might not be afraid.” She considered the words for herself. How many times had she crossed the street just to avoid having to walk past a group of Tlingits sitting on the walkway? The men, in particular, frightened Phoebe. They seemed harsh and resentful. Maybe it was just her imagination, but they appeared almost angry that she should even be there.

  “Hopefully in time, with enough people showing tolerance and kindness instead of judgment,” Lydia told her daughters, “we will see this kind of temperament leave for good.”

  “Well, I don’t like it,” Kjerstin said, crossing her arms. “I’m going to punch Joseph in the nose tomorrow and tell him so.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Lydia cautioned. “You are a young lady, and young ladies do not punch people in the nose.”

  “Never?” Britta asked. “What if they punch you first?”

  Phoebe couldn’t help but smile. “Young ladies,” Zee interjected, “should never be caught fighting.”

  “So if we don’t get caught, then is it okay?” Kjerstin asked.

  “ ’Cause I know a good place where no one would see me punch Joseph in the nose.”

  “Kjerstin, I don’t want you punching anyone,” Lydia admonished. “Why don’t you pray for Joseph instead?”

  “Well, he didn’t pray for Vasilla. He punched him,” Kjerstin countered.

  Phoebe wanted to laugh. The little girl’s reasoning seemed logical. Kjerstin, however, was now shaking her head; clearly her mother’s wisdom did not meet with her understanding.

  “So how did the situation get resolved?” Zee asked, changing their focus.

  “Teacher said Vasilla needed to go home and take a bath,” Britta replied. “But he didn’t smell bad. He had a bath on Saturday,” she repeated, as if they had missed this important fact earlier. “Teacher said he couldn’t come back until he got cleaned up.”

  Zee frowned. “I believe I will come to your school tomorrow and have a word with your teacher. She’s a good woman, but perhaps she misjudged the situation. There is no sense in letting the children belittle someone just because they are different.”

  “Good,” Kjerstin said, as if this were at least a small compromise. “But don’t be surprised if she doesn’t listen.”

  “I’m never surprised when people don’t listen,” Zee replied. “I’m just saddened.”

  Phoebe thought about Zee’s comment long after she’d relayed the event to her mother. Grady was severely chastised and refused dessert that night. He thought it quite unfair. After all, to his way of thinking, they were all dirty Injuns. They lived outside for a good part of the year. They didn’t wear many clothes, and they were always sitting on the ground. How could they not be dirty?

  Most people felt the same way. The Tlingit had been taught about hygiene from the American missionaries and teachers, but their way of living did not always provide for the same standards. Phoebe didn’t think that made them bad people, however. She sighed. The world was cruel at times.

  She was getting ready for bed when she couldn’t help but hear her mother respond to something their father must have said. It sounded like “What are you saying?”

  Slipping over to the door, she opened it just a crack to better hear. Her father was explaining something. “. . . it wasn’t that I didn’t suspect, but now that I know for sure, it will probably spell trouble.”

  “But why must you get in the middle of it?”

  “I’m the one in charge. I have worked with this young man for over three years. I am his superior. Lyman will expect me to handle the matter.”

  Her mother sighed. “But he knows about your father.”

  There was a terrible strained silence for several minutes before her father spoke. “I won’t allow him to damage Lyman’s reputation. It may well mean the end of my career, but I can hardly let him go on stealing from the government funds. If he exposes me, I will simply resign and we will return to the States. Perhaps we can relocate to California.”

  Phoebe gasped and closed the door. “Relocate to California?” But what of Dalton? And what would this mean for their chance to get to know each other—to have a future?

  Chapter 17

  Phoebe fretted for days over the things she’d heard her parents say. On the twenty-fourth of September, the steamer was finally sighted heading toward Sitka. A fishing vessel brought the news to town, and it was all Phoebe could do to keep her wits about her. She went through her wardrobe at least a dozen times, trying to decide on just the right thing to wear. She narrowed
the choices to a lovely embroidered cream-colored suit, a two-piece silk dress that she sometimes wore to church, and a beautiful crepe de Chine gown in a lovely shade of pale blue.

  None of the gowns would serve her very well if she helped in the kitchen, but Phoebe was determined to present a stunning picture to Dalton. This would be their first encounter since his departure, and she wanted it to be memorable.

  “But in a good way,” she said aloud. “Not in the way I met him the first time.”

  She had already decided she would await his return at the Lindquist house. Lydia wanted to meet him at the dock, and Phoebe thought that would give mother and son time to discuss the things that had happened in Kansas City. Kjell would drive the wagon, and Phoebe and Zee would continue working to make sure they were ready for the party.

  Finally settling on the crepe de Chine, Phoebe called for her mother to help her do up the buttons. She could hardly stand still, thinking of all she still had to do before heading to the Lindquists.

  “Phoebe, I can barely take hold of the buttons for all your dancing about.”

  “Sorry, Mother. It’s just that . . . well . . . I’m excited.”

  “About Dalton Lindquist returning?”

  Phoebe pulled away and turned to face her mother. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  Her mother smiled and moved her back into place so she could finish with the buttons. “He is a very nice young man, but you hardly know him.”

  “I feel like I know him quite well,” Phoebe admitted. “I’ve spent so much time with his mother and great-aunt that I’ve heard all about his childhood and passions.”

  “That’s all well and fine, but he doesn’t know you. He hasn’t had the same opportunity in his absence that you have. There, your buttons are secured.”

  Phoebe thought again of what her father had said about leaving Sitka. She didn’t want to admit to her mother that she’d eavesdropped, but she longed for more details. “How would you feel if . . . well . . . what if I married Dalton?”

  Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t really know,” Phoebe replied with a sheepish grin. “The times we had together were . . . wonderful. Even when I fell out of the boat and he saved me, I can’t help but remember how it felt to be in his arms. He’s kind and considerate, yet a man of decisive action.”

  “But, Phoebe, that’s not enough on which to base a marriage. You need to know each other on a personal level. Give yourself some time. Once he’s returned, he may very well come calling. That will give you both a chance to get to know each other. And what of Yuri? You seemed to like him well enough. I know you two had some sort of falling out, but you appeared to enjoy his company. How do you know that he might not make a better possibility?”

  “How did you know Father was the man for you?” Phoebe asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued. “I know it seems odd. I don’t have that much to rely on when it comes to validating my feelings, but I can’t imagine a future without him. He’s all I think about.”

  She shook her head and went to pick up her hairbrush. “Mother, I don’t want to be foolish about it, but if your heart tells you that this is the one, shouldn’t you listen?”

  “I think it’s important to hear what your heart has to say, but also to use your head a bit, too. Don’t let your emotions carry you away. After all, you’re young and there is time to find a husband.”

  “I’ll be nineteen next March, and that’s very close to being twenty. Most of my friends married this summer or will marry this winter. But even so, if I wanted only to marry, you know as well as anyone I could have had a husband many times over by now. Sitka is full of single men looking for a wife. It’s only Dalton who’s captured my thoughts and heart.”

  Stepping forward, Mother embraced Phoebe. “Then follow your heart. I did, and I’ve never regretted it. Not once.”

  Phoebe pulled back. “Not even with Grandfather’s underhanded dealings and the way that worked to ruin Father’s reputation?”

  Her mother shook her head. “Not even then. I know the truth of who your father is. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I love him.”

  Her mother’s words pierced Phoebe’s heart. How wonderful to hold such a deep, abiding love for your mate after so many years. That’s what she wanted. A husband she could grow old with—no matter the controversies and adversities they might face.

  Such thoughts remained heavy on her mind even after Phoebe arrived at the Lindquist house to help. Her brother Theodore pulled the wagon to a stop and begrudgingly assisted Phoebe from the carriage.

  “Remind Mother that they should be here by six.”

  “I don’t see why we should have to come.”

  “Because there will be wonderful food,” she teased. “You will enjoy Zee’s cookies and cakes. She and Lydia are quite gifted in the kitchen.”

  He perked up a bit. “Do you suppose they will have chocolate?” “I’m sure they will. Zee mentioned something about a chocolate cake.”

  This met with the fifteen-year-old’s approval. “Then I guess it won’t be so bad.”

  “Just don’t forget to remind Mother to be here by six.”

  Her brother bounded back up to the carriage seat. “I’ll tell her.”

  Phoebe made her way up the porch steps and to the door. She knocked lightly and wasn’t at all surprised when Zee showed up to answer. “They’ve all gone down to await the ship’s arrival,” Zee told her. “My, but don’t you look pretty. Let’s get an apron on you straightaway so you don’t get anything on that lovely dress.”

  “I wasn’t sure what to wear. I wanted to look . . . well . . . nice.” Phoebe stumbled over the words, not wanting to sound as though she were looking for a compliment.

  “That you do. I’ll change my dress after I get the cake frosted. You go ahead and start decorating. Everything we gathered is in the sewing room.”

  Phoebe nodded and took the apron Zee offered. The pinafore-styled white cotton had straps that crisscrossed in the back, so Zee quickly went to work buttoning these in place while Phoebe smoothed out the apron in front.

  “There you are. I’ll leave you to manage the ties,” Zee declared.

  Phoebe did just that as she made her way to the sewing room. She looked at the variety of boughs and smiled. Lydia had arranged for Kjell to cut spruce branches, and the scent filled the room and would soon engulf the house. Kjerstin and Britta had helped her the day before in joining the pieces together to make a decorative garland, so Phoebe now worked at arranging the decorations about the room.

  Above the fireplace, Lydia had positioned a new watercolor painted by a local woman, Paulina Cohen. Phoebe liked the way the artist had captured the scenic harbor. The skies held just a hint of orange, suggesting twilight. Placing two candles on either side, Phoebe marveled at how the illumination brought out the colors in the painting.

  “That’s perfect,” Zee announced. “I’ve finished the cake, so I’m going to go on over to my cabin and change clothes. I’ll be back in a quick minute.”

  “Is there anything else I can help with?”

  “No, just sit tight and enjoy the quiet. Soon there won’t be any at all.” She grinned and headed to the door.

  Phoebe hugged her arms to her body and glanced around the room to make certain everything was in place. She suddenly felt anxious. What if Dalton had changed so much that he wasn’t at all the man he’d been before? Lydia was worried about the influence of his family in the south. What if her worries were well founded?

  “You’ve considered this same matter at least a hundred times,” she reminded herself aloud. “You must trust God for the outcome.”

  Zee returned just before the first of the wagons began arriving. People poured into the house, soon filling every corner. Phoebe had long since removed her apron and was mingling among the townspeople. Some of them were members of her church and some were neighbors. Everyone seemed in a mood for celebration
. But where were Dalton and the others?

  “Don’t worry,” Zee whispered in her ear. “They’ll be here soon. Lydia had Kjell purposefully stop by the mill to pick up Joshua. They’ll delay there as long as they can to give folks time to get out here.”

  Phoebe breathed a sigh. “That makes perfect sense.”

  Her mother and father arrived with Theodore and Grady in tow. Neither brother acknowledged her. Grady was still angry at Phoebe for having told their parents of his actions at school, while Theodore wasn’t giving her a single thought. He was, instead, taking himself to the food table.

  Phoebe made her way to her parents. “Mother. Father.”

  “My, but there certainly are a lot of people here,” her mother said. “Has Dalton arrived yet?”

  “No, but he should most any time. They were trying to keep it as a surprise,” Phoebe explained.

  “The governor and his family were touched to be invited,” her father announced. “They will be here later.”

  “Wonderful,” Phoebe said, remembering that there was trouble in her father’s situation with the governor and some other worker. “I’m sure the Lindquists will be pleased that he is attending.”

  “They’re here!” someone yelled from the porch.

  Phoebe felt as if she might swallow her tongue. She took a deep breath in an attempt to slow the rapid beating of her heart. Just then, the unmistakable sound of a dish breaking caught her attention. Excusing herself, Phoebe went toward the kitchen to find that an old man had dropped a plate.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she told Zee, who had also come to see what had happened.

  Relieved that the cleaning gave her something to do, Phoebe tried to remain calm as a cheer rose up from the partiers. There were shouts of welcome, and Dalton’s name was called many times over, as was Evie’s.

  Crouched on the kitchen floor, Phoebe couldn’t see anything but legs. She hurried to pick up all of the broken bits of china. The last piece was positioned on the dustpan when she heard a voice from behind her.