Of course, legal authorities would remain in place. The navy would keep a force at the coaling station on Japonski Island just across the harbor, and the marines would continue on Baranof Island for protection purposes, but daily life was bound to change. Some said that supplies would be harder to get as the ships were bound to forgo stopping at Sitka and move right on to Juneau. Lydia hoped that wouldn’t be the case, however. Perhaps she and Kjell would have to look into starting their own shipping company.
She couldn’t help but remember Kjell chiding her to not fear change, but she couldn’t help it. Change usually brought about some kind of discomfort, and even in good situations, there were bad moments of adjustment.
For Lydia Lindquist, it seemed she’d watched a lifetime of changes. When she’d first arrived in Sitka, the city was barely three years under American rule. The Russian influence was still quite heavy, despite many of the Russian families having departed. Now, though the Orthodox Church remained, other Russian effects were gone.
She had seen the coming of Sheldon Jackson and his school for the Tlingit natives. She’d watched the various missionary battles for the souls of the native peoples, as well as an influx of Americans who had come in search of yet another gold rush. A lot of factors had gone into shaping Sitka into what it had become.
Lydia couldn’t help but think of Aunt Zerelda. Her aunt had been such a dynamic woman, coming to Sitka long before the American purchase to act as a nurse to a local family. She was the bravest woman Lydia had ever known. It was hard to imagine leaving everything behind for an unknown island. But Zee’s love of Sitka easily dispelled fears and concerns. It was her love of the island that had drawn Lydia to this place—had allowed her to dream of one day being free of Floyd Gray and his children. She had found peace there—peace that had allowed her to heal from the horrors of her past.
“You look happy,” Kay said, coming into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
Lydia laughed. “Nothing, really. I was just thinking about my life here and how much I’ve enjoyed it.” She looked at the young bride-to-be. “So how’s the dress coming?”
“It’s nearly done. Good thing, too. There’s only a week left before we marry.” Kay picked up a scone and nibbled at the edge. “Phoebe and her mother are helping me with the wedding lunch, but otherwise I just want to keep everything simple.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Lydia replied. “I hear that Ted is planning a little trip to Mount Edgecumbe for your wedding holiday. I thought it too cold, but Kjell assured me you’d find ways of keeping warm.”
Kay giggled. “I have a few ideas.” The clock chimed the hour, and Kay turned to go. “I promised Britta I’d take care of the children while she went to town. I’d better get a move on.”
“Have fun. I know that Laura will probably expect you to give her another sewing lesson. She ranted and raved all about the last one.”
“Today we’re going to sew buttons onto cloth. Should be fun.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t decide to eat any of the buttons.”
Kay nodded. “I will.”
Lydia finished cleaning the kitchen, then hurried upstairs to put clean linens on the bed. She had barely managed to strip away the old sheets when a knock sounded at the front door.
Making her way downstairs, Lydia pulled open the door without even bothering to glance through the window at who might be visiting. To her surprise, the image of her dead husband, Floyd Gray, greeted her.
“Hello, Lydia. I would imagine you are surprised to see me.”
“Marston.” Her heart pounded. He could have been his father’s twin. She felt her heart skip a beat at the horrifying memory. “What do you want?”
He took off his hat to reveal a head of white hair. “I’ve come to make amends.”
“I’m not interested.” Her voice was without emotion. “Please go.”
Marston smiled. “Lydia, I’m nearly seventy years old. I certainly can do you no harm. Won’t you please just hear me out?”
She narrowed her eyes. “For what purpose?”
“The purpose of letting an old man set things right before he meets his maker.”
Lydia shook her head. “You cannot make the past right. There is nothing that will change what you did to me—to my family.” Her hand went involuntarily to her shoulder, where her high neckline hid the scar that she’d received that night, so long ago.
“I realize I cannot undo the things I did; however, I would like you to know how very sorry I am.”
“I don’t believe you, Marston. You’ve never done anything without a deliberate reason—a reason steeped in selfish ambition.”
“I haven’t seen you in over thirty years, and you can’t find it in your heart to allow that I might have changed?”
She considered this for a moment. The man was certainly no threat to her—that much was right. He looked as though a good wind might knock him over. He was leaning heavily on a cane, and his clothes hung on him as if he’d recently lost a great deal of weight.
“I will allow you to come inside and tell your tale,” she finally said. “But then I want you to leave the island and never return.”
“I want to apologize to Dalton and Evie, as well.”
Lydia met his eyes. She nearly shivered at the memories of Floyd’s anger and Marston’s betrayal. Forcing herself to be strong, she nodded. “Very well.” She knew her son could take care of himself, and Josh and his boys would never let anything happen to Evie.
“What a lovely fire,” Marston said, plodding methodically toward the hearth. “I fear I’m chilled to the bone.” To Lydia’s frustration, he took a seat in her rocker. “Ah, this is much better.”
For a moment, she thought of offering him tea, then decided against it. Such an invitation would only prolong his stay.
“How did you get here?” she asked, taking the chair opposite him, where Kjell usually sat.
“A man named Dober-something was heading out this way and offered me a ride.”
Lydia knew Carl Dobermeier well. He worked at the Sheldon Jackson school. “Very well. Will he return for you?”
“I don’t think I have the luxury of that,” Marston said. “But I can walk, so do not fear that I will impose on you.”
She said nothing. Memories flooded her mind—things that she had thought to have buried long ago. Why couldn’t the past stay at rest like those who had died?
“Your operating team has done a good job with the casket company,” Marston offered.
Perhaps he thought flattery would put her at ease. “It is none of your concern, and certainly no reason for your visit.” Lydia’s words were firm. She folded her hands in her lap and fixed him with a stare. “I have other things to do, so if you wouldn’t mind getting to the point, I’d be grateful.”
“Liddie, I’m going to take the dresser in to Dalton,” Kjell announced, bounding into the house. He stopped at the sight of the old man. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know we had company.”
“Kjell, Marston Gray has come to make amends,” she said, relaxing at the sight of her husband. Although he was a year Marston’s senior, he didn’t look it. Kjell was still well muscled and quite healthy, whereas Marston looked to be wasting away.
“Gray,” Kjell said. He came to stand beside Lydia’s chair.
“Mr. Lindquist. I wish this could be under better circumstances,” Marston began. “I know I’m not welcome here, but I felt I had to come. You see, the doctor believes I will be dead in six months’ time. He suggested I get my affairs in order, and this seemed to be the only thing I’d left undone.”
“You’re dying?” Lydia asked. “Of what?” She still didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth.
“It’s a cancer,” he replied. “But that isn’t important. What is important is that I show you my humble apologies and make restitution for the pain and suffering I caused.”
“I don’t want your apologies or your restitution,” she snapped. “You
certainly have gall coming here. You try to murder my aunt and me, and then take my son. You left me . . .” She fell silent, not wanting to give him any power over her. The truth was, she had spent far too much time looking over her shoulder, wondering when he might reappear.
Kjell put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Lydia tried to calm her spirit. Marston could no longer hurt her. He was nothing more than an old ghost.
“I know the things I did were awful. You must believe, first of all, that I never intended for either of you to be killed. I simply wanted time to escape with Dalton. It was wrong, I know now, but then it seemed reasonable.”
“Reasonable? How could such an act ever be reasonable?”
“I thought you were quite mad and feared Dalton could be in harm. You left a comfortable situation where you were well set and could get the medical care you needed for your pregnancy; yet you headed to an isolated island in the northwest. What was I to think?”
“Please don’t pretend to have been concerned with my health or well-being. We both know you wanted to take Dalton so that you could somehow keep your father’s fortune.”
Marston lowered his face. “Of course, that is true, I’m sorry to say. Greed drove me to despicable choices. Still, I reasoned that I was doing a good thing for Dalton. I honestly thought he’d be better off being raised by his father’s sons. He deserved to know about his heritage.”
“A heritage of merciless beatings, betrayal, and murder? That’s not exactly the kind of life I wanted for my son,” Lydia countered. “Your father was evil—plain and simple. Do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise.”
“I do not mean to insult anyone,” he replied. “I came here to apologize. You are right; I cannot undo what has happened. But I do want to make restitution. I have amassed a small fortune of my own. I never married, and I want to leave it to you and Dalton and Evie.”
Lydia didn’t know what to say. This certainly wasn’t the heart of the man she’d once known Marston to be. “I don’t need your money. It doesn’t change what happened.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that it would. I thought I already said that.”
“Then you’ve had your say. . . .”
For just a moment, Lydia thought she saw anger in his eyes, but it passed in a flash and was gone. Marston once again seemed nothing more than a contrite old man, settling his earthly affairs.
“I suppose then I will make my way back to town to speak with Dalton and Evie. I was rather hoping we could go together. I didn’t want to frighten my sister.”
Lydia got to her feet and looked to her husband. “Perhaps Kjell could take you, but I want no part of it.”
Marston struggled to stand. The cane kept him balanced, but he briefly seemed to totter. The years had taken their toll. Then again, perhaps it was the sickness.
“I’ll go with him,” Kjell said. “There is no sense in Evie having to face him alone, in case Josh and the boys are off cutting logs.”
“I have a better idea,” Lydia interjected. “Why don’t you take him to the hotel? Then you can speak to Evie and Dalton alone. We can send word back to you, Marston, when they are ready to meet with you. That seems the kindest thing you could do.”
Marston nodded. “I suppose it would be.” He took up his hat and shuffled to the door.
“I believe I will come to town with you,” Lydia told her husband. “It’s only right that I be there for Evie.”
Yuri was surprised when Dalton approached him. “I wonder if you would take a walk with me,” his friend asked.
“Sure.” Yuri took off his work apron. “Is something wrong?” He could see by Dalton’s expression that he was upset.
Neither one said a word as they moved away from the shop. Yuri couldn’t imagine what had happened to disturb his friend on such a beautiful day. A crisp morning breeze blew over the water, while sunlight danced on the surface. It was a perfect morning. When they were well out of earshot of the other workers, Dalton stopped.
Yuri could see that his friend was upset. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you love my sister?”
“Why are you asking this again?”
“Do you love Britta?” Dalton’s tone grew irritated. “It’s not that hard of a question, Yuri.”
Taking a deep breath, Yuri sat down on a nearby rock. “Please tell me what this is all about.”
“Phoebe told me that you two married out of nothing more than convenience for the children. I want to know if that’s true.”
“In part, it is. Britta felt that the girls needed a mother and father under one roof. She suggested we marry, and eventually I agreed.”
“Eventually? What’s the matter? Isn’t my sister good enough?”
“She’s too good. That’s the problem. She deserves much better than me.” This seemed to dispel Dalton’s initial anger. “Look, Dalton, the arrangement is between Britta and me. You don’t need to be in the middle of it.”
“Maybe not, but I care about my sister’s happiness. You made a pledge before God to also care about it. You promised to love her, and I want to know why you don’t.”
“I never said I didn’t love her.”
Dalton looked at him in disbelief. “You let her cook and clean and care for your children, but you offer her no tenderness—no comfort. How lonely she must be.”
“I’d like to make things better for her, but I don’t know what’s best. Do you suppose I should annul the marriage and set her free?”
Dalton’s expression was one of shock. “I do not. What’s wrong with you? How can you even suggest such a thing?”
“I want her to be happy.”
“And you don’t think she can be happy with you? Good grief, man, she loves you. She lost her heart to you long ago. Phoebe said she’s never seen anyone so completely devoted to another person. Britta would stay married and loveless for the rest of her life if it kept her close to you.”
“But I want better than that for her.”
“So do I,” Dalton said, coming to stand in front of Yuri. “That’s why I’m here. Why can’t you allow yourself to love her?”
Yuri shook his head. “I do love her. Maybe more than I even realized. Still, I’m afraid. I don’t want the past to repeat itself in this marriage.”
“Then don’t let it. My sister isn’t Marsha. She didn’t trick you into marriage. She may have initiated it, but she didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. There had to be a reason it appealed to you.”
He considered that for a moment. “Britta never turned against me for my mistakes or expected too much of me. She accepts me just as I am. She doesn’t try to change me, but rather encourages me.”
“Who could ask for more in a wife?” Dalton said with a smile. “And she is pretty. You have to admit that much.”
“I never said she wasn’t. Her beauty isn’t the problem. I am. I have all these doubts that I can be what she needs me to be.”
“Well, so do I—with Phoebe. I always worry about being what she needs. That’s just the way it is. Those doubts cannot rule our hearts, however. You know what you need to do, Yuri?”
He shook his head.
Dalton grinned. “You need to court your wife. You need to let go of your fears and give her your heart.”
“What if it’s too late? What if she decides she doesn’t want it?”
Dalton laughed heartily. “You really don’t know my sister at all.”
Chapter 20
Dalton stared at his mother in disbelief. “Here? My brother is here?”
“I’m afraid so. We went to tell Evie first.” Lydia glanced at his sister. “I didn’t want Marston surprising her as he had me.”
“Why has he come?”
“He says he’s dying. He has come to make restitution.” Her words were flat and lacked the compassion she so typically held for others. Lydia could see the disbelief in her son’s eyes. She couldn’t blame him; she felt it herself. Could Marston be telling the
truth? Was it that simple?
“Where is he?” Dalton questioned.
“Kjell said he took a room at the hotel,” Evie offered.
“Well, I suppose I should go and speak with him,” Dalton said, getting to his feet.
“You don’t have to do that,” Lydia told him. She got up as well, but not nearly as fast. The ache in her hips brought on by the rainy weather caused her to move more slowly. She straightened and met Dalton’s blank expression.
“Dalton, it’s not necessary. He can’t possibly expect you or any of us to believe him. He’s caused this family too much harm. Just because he says he’s changed—that he’s here to make things right—doesn’t mean we should listen to him.”
“While it is difficult to believe that Marston could have changed,” Evie began thoughtfully, “I know God is capable of working to recreate anyone. I will go and hear him out. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
Dalton nodded. “I’ll go with you. The sooner we hear what he has to say, the sooner he will leave. I can’t imagine he’ll want to remain in Sitka any longer than is necessary. Once we hear him out, hopefully he will depart.”
“I think you’re both making a mistake,” Lydia said, crossing her arms. She didn’t want her son to have anything to do with the man, but she could hardly stop him. “Marston Gray may be old, but mark my words: He hasn’t changed. I can feel it when he speaks to me.” She turned to her husband. “You once told me that such uneasiness was often the Holy Spirit’s way of helping us to recognize evil.”
“That’s true enough, Lydia, but I agree with Dalton. If you go to him collectively and stand up to him, perhaps he will say what he has to say and return to Kansas City.”
Lydia felt as if they’d all turned on her. Though she knew that what her husband said was probably true, she didn’t like giving Marston even that much room to maneuver.
“I’ll do whatever you suggest, but I won’t trust him,” she finally said.
“Nor will I,” Dalton agreed. “I didn’t suppose we should trust him, Mother.” He reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “He cannot hurt you anymore.”
Twilight's Serenade Page 17
