Twilight's Serenade

by Tracie Peterson

  Britta considered chiding him for leaving the children alone but it would serve no good purpose. “Would you mind warming a bottle of milk for the baby while I see what else needs to be tended to?”

  He nodded and opened the screen door.

  Britta made her way inside and went immediately to the girls’ room. She found Laura sitting on her bed, the quilt wadded up around her and her doll pressed tight to her chest.

  “Whatever is wrong?” she asked, taking Laura in her arms.

  “I waked up, and you were gone. You stay here, Mama.”

  Britta smoothed back the child’s long hair. “Now, we talked about this. Your papa is going to stay here at night. I will come be with you in the daytime.”

  “No. I want you.” Laura clung hard and fast to Britta’s neck.

  Darya continued to fuss and Britta knew the baby probably needed to be changed. “Laura, I want you to lie down while I take care of the baby. I’ll be right here, and I’ll talk to you the whole time.”

  Laura pulled back and looked skeptical. “You stay?”

  “For a little while.”

  Britta went to work soothing Darya. She changed the baby’s diaper and cradled her close. With everyone quieting down, Britta felt confident that all was well. Her earlier fears that perhaps they were sick passed away as she began to hum a lullaby.

  “Here’s the bottle,” Yuri said as he came into the room. “I hope it’s warm enough.”

  “Did you test it on your wrist the way I showed you?”

  He looked sheepish. “I did, but . . . well . . . my skin is so rough. I worry that I don’t have the same degree of sensitivity that you do.”

  Britta didn’t argue with him. She took the bottle and dripped a bit of milk on her skin. It was slightly cooler than she would normally have used, but once Darya saw the chance to eat, there was no turning back. She could only pray that the baby wouldn’t get a stomachache, or there would be no sleep for anyone tonight.

  Yuri stood to the side as Britta instructed Laura to cover up. “Would you like to hear a story?” The little girl nodded, so Britta began, “Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess named Laura. . . .” She often put the child’s name into stories to keep her attention, and this time was no exception. She wondered what Yuri might think of her practice, but continued to feed Darya and entertain Laura.

  As she figured, it was only fifteen or twenty minutes before both girls were fast asleep. She yawned and got to her feet. Darya didn’t so much as move when Britta placed her back in her crib. What a beautiful child—so angelic. Britta couldn’t help but touch her baby-fine hair. It was darker than Laura’s and had a bit of a curl to it. Britta tried to remember Marsha to gauge if the child favored her mother, but it was late and exhaustion overcame her thoughts.

  She slipped from the room, finding that Yuri had already made his way out. She didn’t see him and wondered if he had already gone to bed. Disappointed that she couldn’t tell him good-bye, Britta made her way outside, closing the door behind her. A lighted lantern awaited her trip home. No doubt Yuri had thought of this.

  “You’re very good with them,” Yuri said.

  She startled, surprised that he was there. Britta could see him approach from the far side of the porch. “They are wonderful children, but this is an adjustment for them. Laura is used to my being there at night. She’ll get over it in time.” But in her heart, Britta didn’t want Laura to get over it. She relished that the child needed and wanted her. It not only gave her an excuse to remain close to the girls, but it gave her a reason to be near Yuri, as well.

  A breeze picked up and blew Britta’s long brown hair across her face. To her surprise, Yuri reached out and brushed it back in place. He studied her for a moment, as if seeing her for the first time. Something in his expression gave Britta hope that he might love her. She longed to declare her love for him but knew it wasn’t the right time. Instead, she reached for the lantern and turned to go.

  “I’ll be here to fix breakfast—hopefully before they wake up.”

  “Britta . . .” He barely breathed her name.

  She turned and smiled. He was standing in the light of the lantern, a stunned expression on his face. “What?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a few more seconds, then shrugged. “Uh . . . nothing. Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Good night, Yuri.”

  Yuri was frantic by the time Britta arrived the next morning. It felt like he’d barely gone to sleep before Darya started crying again. He got up to find that morning’s light was already casting a golden glow against clear skies. Apparently, the affairs of the night had caused them all to oversleep.

  He went into the girls’ room and felt a sense of helplessness. Seeing the squalling infant, he wasn’t at all sure what he could do to comfort her. Against his better judgment, he picked her up and found that Darya quickly quieted. She gazed at him with dark blue eyes that seemed intent on piercing through his well-placed walls of defense.

  “Now what do I do?” he asked no one in particular.

  He glanced to where Laura was already waking. She looked at him and began to pucker her lips. “Where’s Mama?”

  “She’ll be here soon,” he said. Just then, Darya’s fascination with him ended, and she began to cry again.

  Yuri didn’t know what to think. He shifted the baby carefully and brought her to his shoulder as he’d seen Britta do. This only served to irritate the infant more. At the baby’s increased howls of protest, Laura began to cry.

  “It’s all right, Britta . . . Mama will be here soon.”

  He attempted to sit down beside Laura, but she wanted no part of it. “Go away. I want Mama.”

  “I’m sorry, Laura. She isn’t here yet,” Yuri said, more sternly than he’d intended. “She’ll be here soon enough, I promise.”

  Laura looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown horns. She began to wail in earnest, which only caused Darya to cry more. Yuri thought if Britta didn’t come soon, he might well join them.

  When she did arrive a few minutes later, Yuri could see that she was still quite tired. Nevertheless, he thought her more beautiful than ever before. Funny, she’d always just been a little girl to him—a little sister. After last night, however, he found himself thinking of her otherwise. She was a grown woman— lovely and sensible—and . . .

  “You certainly have a mess on your hands,” she said with a grin. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

  “I didn’t know what to do,” he said, thrusting the baby at her.

  Britta took Darya. “Well, you’re their father, and you really should learn.”

  There was no real rebuke in her tone but rather an amused conciliatory manner. She gathered Laura to her side. “Now you know what you must do,” she told the girl. “The bowl has water in it and is ready for you to wash your face. After that, you can get dressed. I left your things out on the chest at the end of the bed.” She turned to Yuri. “Laura is a big girl and can wash up and dress herself. Can’t you, Laura?”

  The child looked up and nodded. “I dwess myself.”

  He stood amazed at how quickly order came out of chaos. Before he had fully dressed and shaved, Britta had the children secured and breakfast on the stove. When he joined them at the table, Yuri could only smile in admiration at the petite young woman.

  “You make it seem so easy,” he said, taking a bowl of oatmeal from her hands.

  “It’s just a matter of routine now,” Britta replied. “It wasn’t this easy in the beginning. I have to say, I relied a great deal upon my mother to show me what to do. Despite having cared for Phoebe’s children when they were young, it’s not the same as having full charge.”

  She tied a dishcloth around Laura’s neck to keep food from her clothes, then took her seat beside the child. “Will you say grace?”

  Yuri bowed his head and offered thanks for the meal and added silent gratitude for the quiet and order tha
t had been restored. He opened his eyes to find Britta looking at him and smiling. It was almost as if she could read his mind.

  “I’m heading into town. Do you need me to bring back anything?” he asked between bites.

  “I don’t think so. We stocked the cabin pretty well before you moved in. I think we’re set for a little while. Mother or Kay will bring more milk for the baby after they finish with their chores.”

  “I heard your mother say that she’s planning to sell one of the milk calves.”

  Britta nodded. “Yes. She has a long list of folks who want to buy them. Beef isn’t as easily attainable up here as elsewhere, but folks still crave it. Whoever buys it will probably feed it until fall, then butcher it.”

  “And what of your family? Will they have enough meat for themselves?”

  “Oh, we always do. Father smoked pork last fall and we still have quite a bit. Plus there is smoked salmon and pickled herring. He’ll hunt for anything else we need. Mother and Kay always put in a garden to match no other on the island, and there are always berries. Remember when we would go berry picking? You and Dalton would come along to protect us girls.” He nodded and she continued. “We will be canning all sorts of things as summer comes on. Then, too, Mother has plenty of money, and she orders in a good supply of the things she can’t grow. So food is usually not an issue.”

  “What might be an issue?” Yuri asked. He longed to find a way to make himself truly useful.

  “I can’t say. I’ve been gone longer than you have.”

  Yuri continued eating. There must be something he could do to benefit the family. “I suppose I could keep cutting wood,” he said after a time.

  “There are always ways to help, if that’s what you’re looking for. Mother wants to make a better house for the chickens. Then there’s a need to dig a new outhouse. Oh, and before he left, I know my father had plans to make repairs to the wood wagon.”

  “I could probably do those things,” Yuri said as he pushed back from the table. “I shouldn’t be gone long unless someone offers me a job on the spot.”

  “There probably isn’t much available . . . except saloon work,” Britta said, helping Laura to get the last of her oatmeal.

  Yuri heard the hesitation and knew Britta’s concern. “I can’t work there,” he said, hoping to put her mind at ease. He got up and smiled. “I think we both know why.”

  Britta nodded. “I’ll be praying God brings something to you.”

  Yuri wanted to comment on how pretty she looked—how her hair seemed to ripple like water. He wanted to tell her that she’d looked quite alluring last night in the warm glow of lantern light. Instead, he left without another word, hoping the awkwardness he felt would pass.

  He had walked nearly the entire distance to town when he spied Phoebe coming down the road. She was carrying a basket over one arm and seemed preoccupied. In fact, she almost appeared to be carrying on a conversation.

  He waited as she approached, but it wasn’t until she was nearly upon him that Phoebe even noticed him there.

  “Oh, I am sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I was deep in thought . . . well, actually, prayer.”

  “That’s a relief. I thought maybe you were talking to yourself,” he replied. “Are you headed out to see Lydia?”

  “I was hoping to see you, as well.”

  “Me?”

  Phoebe nodded and shifted the basket. “I had hoped to talk you into working for me—for Dalton’s company.”

  Yuri was taken by surprise. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, if you really want a job, I can definitely use you. I have no idea of when Dalton will be home, but there’s an order for three skiffs for the cannery. I don’t know how long it takes to finish such an order, but I know the boys we hired from the school are already hard at work on them. I had thought to get some extra help from the school, but they are going to one of the near islands to harvest wood. They’ll be tied up rafting it back to Sitka well into the summer.” She paused, and a pleading expression filled her face. “Please tell me you will do it. Gordon told me the boats couldn’t possibly be completed in time if we didn’t get some additional help. Especially someone who wouldn’t require extra time in training.”

  It seemed Britta’s prayers were being answered rather quickly. Yuri drew a deep breath. “I know how to build skiffs.”

  “Wonderful.” Her expression seemed to brighten. “Then you’ll work for me . . . for us, I mean.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I talk as though Dalton’s gone for good, but I really don’t believe that.”

  “Neither do I,” Yuri told her. He could easily remember the days before Dalton and Phoebe married. A time when he, too, had been interested in courting the pretty blonde. Phoebe hadn’t changed much in all that time. She was still a strikingly beautiful woman.

  “Why don’t you walk with me to the house, and we can discuss your pay. I’m afraid I don’t even know what’s fair.”

  They began to walk back to the Lindquists. Yuri reached out for the basket. “Here, let me carry that.” Phoebe didn’t protest.

  “I’m taking candles to Lydia,” she said, as if he needed an explanation.

  “I remember you making the most beautiful candles,” Yuri said thoughtfully. “They smelled so much better than those my mother used to make.”

  Phoebe smiled. “I didn’t know your mother made candles.”

  “Only when necessary, and only when I was very young. Supplies were far harder to get in those days, and making your own candles was often a necessity. Of course, we used our share of candlefish, too.”

  “Smelly things,” Phoebe said, wrinkling up her nose. “Still, those days seem like a million years ago.”

  “We were just talking about how you and Dalton first met,” Yuri said. “Not many folks have such a dramatic introduction.”

  Laughing, Phoebe kicked at a rock and sent it flying down the road ahead of them. “I try to forget just how opinionated and bossy I could be back then. I’ve really tried to change over the years.”

  This struck a chord with Yuri. “Do you think God can truly change us, Phoebe? I mean, really make something new out of what we were?”

  “I do. Lydia taught me to count on God for the impossible. I hated it when I came here, remember?”

  Yuri did and smiled. “It was evident that you planned to leave as soon as the first opportunity presented itself.”

  “That’s true enough. But then I lost my heart to Dalton and knew he’d never leave. So I began to pray God would change my heart—teach me to love Sitka. Little by little, I found a great deal to love about this place. Now I honestly have no desire to live elsewhere.”

  “But what about me? Do you think God can truly deliver me from alcohol?” He frowned.

  “Yes, Yuri. I think God can completely deliver you. I know you’re probably afraid of what may or may not happen, but just keep in mind that God has already made provision for it. You will always have a way out of temptation. The Bible says so.”

  “I want to believe that it’s true. I know Morris—he’s the man who helped me after I got hurt—told me that I can overcome anything with God’s help.”

  He heard a buggy approaching from behind and pulled Phoebe to the side of the road as it drew up beside them. Sitting at the reins was a well-dressed man who appeared confused.

  “I’m wondering if you might help me. I’m looking for the Lindquist estate.”

  Yuri exchanged a grin with Phoebe. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them call it an estate, but you’re on the right road. We were headed that way ourselves.”

  The man beamed at them. “Wonderful. Might I offer you a ride in exchange for directions?”

  Phoebe looked to Yuri and then nodded. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

  Helping her up, Yuri waited until Phoebe was settled before handing her the basket. Next he climbed beside her and the three of them squeezed together in the small seat.

  “I’m Pho
ebe Lindquist. I’m married to Lydia and Kjell’s son, Dalton.” She paused and Yuri saw an anxious look shadow her face. “You aren’t here because of them—are you? Do you have word about Dalton and his father?”

  “Not at all. I only know them by name, but know nothing else. Why do you ask?”

  “We have reason to believe they were in San Francisco the day of the earthquake.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. I was in Denver myself when word came about the quake. I once lived in San Francisco and can only wonder what remains of that dear lady.”

  Phoebe nodded and seemed to slump a little toward Yuri.

  “My name is Brenton Maltese,” the man continued. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lindquist.”

  “This is Yuri Belikov. He’s a very good friend of the family.” Yuri leaned forward and gave a brief two-fingered salute.

  “Good to meet you both, and very fortuitous. I was afraid I might be lost.”

  “It’s hard to get too lost on this island. There aren’t many roads, and everyone knows everyone,” Phoebe countered. “So what brings you here? Do you have business with Kjell and Lydia?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” the man replied. “I’m engaged to their daughter Britta. I’ve really come here to see her.”

  Yuri felt as though he’d taken a blow to the stomach. He couldn’t help but meet Phoebe’s worried look. She seemed to question him with her eyes, but Yuri could do nothing but shrug.

  “Britta has said nothing about an engagement,” Phoebe murmured. By this time, however, they were approaching the turnoff for the Lindquist property. “You need to take this drive. Their house is up and around the bend.”

  Yuri couldn’t concentrate on what Maltese said in reply. He was completely dumbfounded. Britta was engaged? Why was she caring for his children when she had agreed to marry this man? It didn’t make sense.

  He remembered Lydia saying that Britta had always been her most secretive of children. This encounter definitely confirmed that point. What in the world had Britta gotten herself into now?