Twilight's Serenade

by Tracie Peterson

  “I can hardly pretend the memories of the past no longer exist. I have forgiven, but I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Of course not, but you can prove to him that they no longer control your life. Mother, you told me long ago that God had allowed you to put my father’s actions to rest. That you were able to let go of the past. I’m merely asking you to do the same with Marston—and then to tell him you’ve done it. I want very much for Marston to make his heart right with God before he dies.”

  “You shame me,” she said, reaching out to touch Dalton’s face. “The man has harmed you as much as anyone, yet you are worried for his soul.” She drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Although it will be very hard for me, I will go with you. I will speak to him.”

  “Thank you. This means the world to me.”

  “I can see that much. I am truly humbled at the concern you have for your brother. He doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

  “None of us deserved God’s, either,” Dalton said, “but we are so much better off for it. I want everyone to know that blessing.”

  “What a fine day it is,” Britta declared. She and Yuri had decided to take Laura on a hike up the mountain. The weather had been clear for three days now—a remarkable phenomenon in Sitka. The trails had dried, and the sun had managed to warm the air quite nicely. Britta intended to take advantage of the moment.

  “In another few weeks, it will be warm like this all the time,” Yuri said, linking his arm with hers.

  “And we shall be in our new house,” Britta added.

  Laura ran on ahead of them enjoying the excitement of exploration. From time to time, she stopped and picked up a rock or a piece of wood to examine it. The child reminded Britta of herself at that age.

  “I did manage to obtain permission to begin painting and making other changes to the place.”

  Britta nodded. “I was hopeful you could. There’s so much I’d like to do. I want to paint the kitchen—especially the cupboards. The kitchen is so dark. I figure if we paint the cupboards white and maybe use a light green on the walls, it will brighten things considerably. Mother even spoke of showing me how to do some decorative stenciling.”

  They approached the trail that led to where Britta’s little brother was buried. “Let’s go this way,” she encouraged. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to revisit the spot, but it seemed the right thing to do.

  “We’ll have to be careful of getting too far off the main trail. The snow is still deep in the higher elevations.”

  “I don’t plan to go far. There’s a little meadow up ahead. There’s a rocky wall, and it’s there that my mother and father buried my little brother.”

  Yuri met her gaze. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

  Britta turned to the path ahead. “Yes. I’m feeling a little stronger every day. My mother told me that time would distance the pain. Visiting my brother’s grave seems proof of that. I remember my mother’s strength there, and it gives me hope.”

  The climb steepened and grew a bit muddier. Snowmelt had dampened the trail, despite the dry weather. Laura slipped and landed out flat on her stomach. She got up and turned in muddy misery to reveal the front of her dress.

  “Don’t fret. We’ll wash it up when we get home. Go ahead and play,” Britta encouraged. She looked up at Yuri, who was trying to hold back a chuckle, and added, “I came home dirtier than that on many an occasion.”

  “I remember,” he said fondly. “You were quite the little mountain goat, as I recall.”

  “I was not. I was merely adventurous. I actually considered joining an exploration team to study the vast far north. Did I ever tell you?”

  He laughed. “No. I would have remembered that.”

  “Well, it’s true. I went to speak with one of the men leading an expedition out of Vancouver. He was not impressed that I had grown up in Alaska, nor that I was a woman. He did, however, rethink my application when he learned that my parents were quite wealthy. In the end, however, he turned me down. He feared that I might be desperately wounded during the trip.”

  “I’ll bet he was more concerned that you would outshine his men.”

  She gave her husband a brief shrug. “Who can say? I was disappointed, but I didn’t allow it to defeat me.”

  “I’ve always admired that about you.”

  “Admired what?”

  “That you don’t allow life’s disappointments to defeat you. You have a quiet strength that runs deep. You know that little is to be gained by sulking and longing for what cannot change. Instead, you move forward to alter what can be made different.”

  “Sometimes I feel I used up all of that resolve on things that weren’t so very important.” She continued to climb the path. “See just over there—that’s the place I was talking about.”

  The small meadow spilled out before them, revealing patches of snow here and there. The rocky wall where her brother’s marker stood caught Laura’s attention and she bounded toward it.

  “This is a wonderful place. Very peaceful,” Yuri commented, coming up behind Britta.

  “It is. My mother brought me here and talked of her loss. I didn’t really want to hear what she had to say, but now and then I reflect on it. I’m still afraid, Yuri. Afraid of having our own baby and losing him like we lost Darya.”

  “I understand, but my deepest desire is that we not live in fear. I don’t want to constantly be looking over my shoulder for the next bad thing to come.”

  Britta turned around and met his gaze. “Nor do I.”

  He pulled her into his arms and planted a warm kiss upon her lips. Britta felt that warmth spread out across her face. She closed her eyes and allowed him to kiss her again.

  “I have come to really enjoy being a husband,” he whispered against her ear.

  “I knew you would,” she teased.

  He laughed and pulled away as if offended. “Oh, you did, did you? Now, how did you know that?”

  “I made it my life’s ambition to know you. From the time you saved my life, I knew that we were meant to be together and I worked hard to know everything about you. In fact, I used to follow you around whenever I got the chance. Mother and Father thought I was doing other things, but I would sneak off and find you.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. “Truly?”

  Britta remembered those days easily. “Truly. I got myself into some places that I shouldn’t have, but I suppose God was always watching over me. I only did it to be near you.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I remember once I saw someone beat you up. Well, actually he tried. You made the better go of it, but he hurt you and that devastated me. You were bleeding from a blow you’d taken to the mouth, and all I wanted to do was come to you and nurse your wound.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dalton saw me. I don’t know why he was there, but he took me by the hand and walked me back home. He never told our mother, and he never chastised me. I think he knew I was only there to be near to you.” Britta glanced back over her shoulder. “Where’s Laura?”

  Yuri turned to look. “I don’t know. Laura, where are you?” he called.

  Britta had been certain the child would come dancing back into view, but she didn’t. Panic welled inside. “Laura!” She left Yuri’s side and went in search. She called to her daughter over and over, but there was no response.

  “Oh, this can’t be happening,” Britta said, setting off in the direction she’d last seen Laura. The snowmelt made the trail particularly difficult, and Britta found herself sliding downward even as she fought frantically to climb.

  “Be careful.” Yuri wasn’t that far behind her, but to Britta he sounded miles away.

  “Laura Belikov, you come back here right now,” Britta called. She heard something and stopped. “Laura?”

  It was the distinct sound of giggling. Yuri caught it as well and cocked his head to one side. “It’s coming from over there.” He pointed to the left. “Laura, this is
n’t funny. You gave us a fright.” He took off across the forested ground, while Britta decided to go ahead and navigate the trail. It was a mistake. Without warning she lost her footing on the steep path and fell face-first onto the ground. She had thought that was the end of her problems, but as Britta struggled to get to her feet, the ground seemed to give way beneath her, and she went tumbling with it.

  Her last thought was that her clothes would now be as muddy as Laura’s. Then her head struck a rock and her world went black.

  Chapter 29

  Let me talk to him alone,” Lydia told her son. “I think it is better this way.”

  Dalton stood back and crossed his arms. “If you need me, I’ll be right here.”

  Lydia said nothing. Instead, she marched with purpose across the open hospital ward to the place where the curtains had been drawn to give Marston Gray some privacy. Pushing aside the fabric, she was shocked to see the pale-faced man. He had lost even more weight than she remembered and looked almost skeletal.

  “Lydia,” he said, grimacing as he struggled to sit.

  “Stay where you are,” she said, holding out a gloved hand. “You needn’t get up on my account.”

  Marston fell back against his pillow. “I suppose I know why you’re here.”

  “Dalton told me you were dying. He wanted me to make certain you knew that I’d forgiven you the past.”

  Marston eyed her seriously for a moment. “And have you?”

  Lydia could see the tiniest glimmer of haughty pride in his eyes. For a moment, it got her dander up, but then she realized just as quickly that he was beyond hurting her anymore. Especially in his present condition. But more importantly, she felt confident that in her own maturity and peace in the Lord, Marston Gray could no longer cause her grief. She drew up a chair and sat down before giving him a reply.

  “I have forgiven you, Marston. Even though I doubt you have ever truly regretted any action you’ve ever taken. Your entire life was about being your father’s son—about controlling what you felt was yours for the taking.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Ambition accomplishes much.”

  She nodded. “So does prayer, but I don’t imagine you ever gave yourself over to that.”

  Smiling, Marston relaxed and his expression softened. “I can tell you now, Lydia, that I’ve always truly admired your spunk.”

  Unmoved by his offhand compliment, Lydia shook her head. “I admired very little about you or your father, Marston. But I’ve not come to insult you or dredge up the past. I’m here to make certain that you know you have my forgiveness. I do not hold the past against you any longer. I turned over my right to retribution long ago.” She fixed him with a determined gaze. “Had I not done so, Marston, you would be dead, and I would be in prison—or hanged.”

  “You would have killed me?” he asked with a weak grin.

  She nodded. “For what you did to my aunt and child, yes. I could bear your attacks on me, but when you threatened their lives, that was too much.”

  He drew a ragged breath. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to come here today, but I thank you for the effort. I know you hate me.”

  “But that’s untrue. I do not hate you. I feel nothing but pity for you.”

  He frowned, and Lydia knew she’d delivered him a hard blow. Marston Gray was not in the habit of being pitied. She got to her feet. “I do hope you’ll listen to your brother regarding eternity. You haven’t much time left on this earth. Your past deeds are unimportant at this point, but what matters most of all is the condition of your soul. The choice between heaven and hell is yours alone to make.”

  She turned and walked from the quartered-off area before he could say another word. Lydia felt she had done all that she could to persuade Marston Gray regarding God. She felt guilty for the fact that she honestly didn’t care if he accepted Jesus as his Savior or not.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered. “I wish I felt otherwise.”

  Dalton could see his mother’s blank expression and worried that things had not gone well. “Is everything all right?”

  She nodded. “I told him that I forgave him. I did what I could to persuade him that he needed to turn to God.”

  “You seem upset. Is there anything I can do?”

  His mother shook her head and patted his arm with her gloved hand. “No. I’m fine. I’m going to wait for you at your home. It will do me good to visit with Phoebe and the children.”

  Dalton let her go. Walking through the nearly empty ward, Dalton tried to imagine what he would say to Marston. He wanted his brother to know that his time was close—that he needed to face his death and let Dalton know what he wanted in the way of a funeral.

  “Hello,” he said, pushing aside the curtain. “I hope you aren’t overly tired.”

  Marston looked at him for a moment. “If you’ve come to tell me that I’m dying and need God, I’ve already heard.”

  Dalton remembered a verse in the Bible that said something to the effect of people who were ever hearing but not understanding. For all his intellect, Marston could not understand matters of faith—of the heart. His mind could not grasp the logic of such things, for what was logical about putting your trust and faith in something unseen?

  “Does that mean you’ve also chosen to accept the truth of it?”

  Marston laughed. “Truth is a very subjective thing.”

  “Meaning what?” Dalton took a seat, never letting his gaze leave Marston’s tired eyes.

  “Meaning it’s a personal matter as to what is or isn’t truth. The doctor believes me to be dying, while I’m not of a mind to accept that. Isn’t it entirely possible that a person once told a situation is hopeless then in turn becomes hopeless? I do not desire to give the Sitka medical community that kind of power over me.”

  “Fighting for one’s life is a positive quality, I agree. But your body is worn out. You are seventy years old, and cancer is devouring you. Fighting for your eternal soul would be a better way to spend your energy.”

  “You mother would agree with you. She said similar things.” Marston grabbed his abdomen as his face contorted. “She . . . would . . . argh . . .” He fought to keep from giving in to the misery. “It’s nearly time for my medication,” he finally said.

  “Look, I don’t want to make this any harder than it needs to be, brother. The truth is, if you die without accepting God’s free gift of salvation, you will be forever separated from Him.”

  Marston eased back as the pain appeared to pass. “Dalton, you need to give this up. My sin is too big for God to forgive. I have no desire to approach Him, only to be rejected.”

  “If your sin is too much for God—too big—then perhaps we should worship your sin. Obviously it would be more powerful than anything else.”

  This actually brought a smile to Marston’s face. “Maybe it is.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I? My sin has defined me for seventy years. Call me stubborn, but I can hardly cast aside the very thing that fueled my life, just because I face death.”

  “Jesus has laid His life down at the very gates of hell in order to keep you from having to pass through. Would you walk over Him, for the sake of being stubborn?”

  “I’ve been walking over people to get what I want all of my life. My tenacity has made me a fortune and given me great pleasure. Being stubborn is not such a bad thing.”

  “It is when it means you cannot accept any way other than your own.” Dalton shook his head and got to his feet. “I used to wonder how a person could ever hear about God—about Jesus dying for all mankind—and still reject Him. Now I see that the devil has a way of blinding the heart to such matters. You scoff at God as you lie here dying. But mark my words, you won’t be scoffing when you stand before Him on Judgment Day.”

  Marston shrugged. “Allow it to bother you if you will, but it seems to me that this is between me and the Almighty. You’ve made your choice. Now allow me mine.”

 
“I’m glad you were able to go for the doctor,” Yuri told his father-in-law. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage everything.”

  Lydia had only returned a few minutes earlier and even now was deep in conversation with the doctor. Laura, meanwhile, had not left her mother’s side. She was so upset that her game of hide-and-seek had caused Britta’s fall that she had cried all the way back to the cabin. Yuri had little chance to comfort her at all, however, because he was burdened with Britta’s unconscious form.

  “She should be fine,” the doctor said as he headed for the door. “Just have her rest.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Lydia said. She turned back to Yuri. “Laura can stay with us tonight.”

  “No! I want to be with Mama.” Laura took hold of Britta’s hand as she stirred and opened her eyes.

  She smiled weakly at the child. “I’ll be just fine, sweetheart.”

  Yuri went to Laura. “Mama needs to rest, and you would have to be quiet for the rest of the day. Why don’t you at least go play at Grandma’s house? Then if you want to sleep here tonight, you can.”

  “We can make your mama a present,” Kjell told her.

  Laura looked hesitant. The incentive seemed to work. She let go of Britta and stood. “I’m sorry that you got hurt, Mama. I won’t be a bad girl anymore.”

  “You weren’t bad, Laura. It was just an accident. Now have fun with Grandpa, and maybe later you can show me one of your books.”

  The girl nodded and scurried off to join Kjell. He scooped her up in the air and plopped her down on his shoulders. Yuri smiled at Laura’s squeal of delight.

  “You’ll come for us if you need anything?” Lydia asked Yuri.

  “Of course. I’m certain we’ll be just fine.”

  “I’ll bring your supper,” his mother-in-law declared. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  He could tell Lydia was reluctant to go, but followed the doctor and Kjell from the room with only one backward glance. Yuri paid her no attention and focused instead on Britta.