She scanned the salutations, whispering aloud the important parts. “Sorry to hear about your delay … unfortunately had to fill the position with another … good news is that there is another available … May. Report to my offices no later than the twentieth of May.” She looked up from the letter, staring blankly at the horses and buggies that passed before her. What day was it? How long had she to get there? Her heart leaped at the thought that it might already be too late.
Knut came to the door. “To-ra,” he whined, wanting her to come in and pay for his chosen treats.
“In a minute, Knut,” she said in irritation over her shoulder. She scanned a well-to-do couple coming up the boardwalk and rose. “Excuse me, sir, may I ask the date?”
He looked at her with some disdain. “It is the twenty-ninth of April, young lady.”
Tora smiled broadly. “The twenty-ninth! Thank you!” She turned toward Knut, and he smiled in shy surprise at her own rare grin. “Let’s buy you that candy!” she said, taking his hand. “Today we will buy a whole pound!” she enthused.
They left the store minutes later, the boys enthralled with the candy, and Tora left alone to her dreams and aspirations. She remembered Karl’s glowing words about Minnesota and the city of Saint Paul, and visualizing Duluth as much the same, she began to chart her escape. The boys could be left to their father’s care, and Jessica could be weaned. But what to do with her?
As they passed the shipyard, thoughts of Soren and their times together on board the ship leaped to her mind. Yes. That was it. Would it not be sweet justice? After all, it was only fair that he live up to his responsibility in all this, she decided, looking down at Jessica. Kaatje was a good woman. She would raise Jessica well. And North Dakota wasn’t far from Minnesota.
That settled it. She would deliver Soren’s child into Kaatje’s arms, along with the truth. Oh, he might try to deny it, but what could he do? If they refused the child, she would leave her on the porch, and as a good Christian, Kaatje would have no choice but to pick her up and raise her as their own. She’d only be a couple months younger than Kaatje’s own child, Tora mused. And as the girl grew, there would be telltale signs of who her true father was. Already she favored the man, with tiny blond curls and a familiar set to her chin.
Tora felt like skipping. Yes, she would make her way to the Janssens’ farm, deposit Jessica with her father, then leave for her new life.
“Thank you for the candy,” Knut said, coming up beside her and taking her hand. Tora felt the levity of the moment slide into melancholy as she considered Knut, Lars, and her daughter. There were times when she enjoyed her life, when she relished the peace of it.
But she steeled herself against it, determined to move on to the world in which she belonged.
Society.
Kaatje watched as the buggy in the distance approached, kicking up a trail of dust that drifted across the green fields of spring wheat. Soren had been gone a month, working on the Northern Pacific Railroad, but was to return for harvest. Could this be him already? It was really too early to expect him, but still Kaatje found the courage to hope. Indeed, she battled against the fear that he was never returning, that she and Christina were truly on their own.
As the coach drew closer, however, Kaatje could see the figure of a woman. Why, it looked like Tora Anders! She smiled. Even though she did not care for the young woman, it would be good to see any of the Anders family. She missed Elsa so! But what on earth could bring Tora to North Dakota? Her heart sank. Perhaps Elsa was ill.
Tora pulled up in front of the house, calling out to the horse with a soft “whoa.” She was dressed in a new riding suit of dark blue, and she flashed a smile as she stepped down, brushed the dust off herself, and walked toward Kaatje. Stunned, Kaatje opened her arms to the girl.
“Tora Anders, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked.
“I secured a job,” Tora said simply, proudly. “Or I should say that I expect to secure a job. And there’s someone I want you to meet.” She turned back to the coach. “Is Soren not home?” she asked over her shoulder.
“No. He is away working on the Northern Pacific, trying to earn some more capital for the farm.”
“Oh, that’s a pity,” Tora said as she reached into a large basket on the seat—no, it was a bassinet, Kaatje recognized—and pulled out an infant that was perhaps six weeks old.
“Oh! Tora! Congratulations! I had not heard that you had married! How could Elsa not have told me? I just got a letter from her last week.” She reached for the child, cradling her in her arms with soft coos. “Why, she must only be a few months behind my own Christina.” The child was gorgeous, perfectly formed, with soft blond curls peeking out beneath her frilled bonnet.
“I am not married.”
Kaatje glanced at Tora quickly, searching for something to say. “The father …” she began lamely.
Tora met her gaze unwaveringly, waiting.
Kaatje frowned. Before she could stop herself, her thoughts went from Kristoffer to others who could be the babe’s father. No. No, no, no! She glanced away from Tora’s sapphire eyes to the surrounding fields. It was a beautiful early May day, with deep blue skies that met the fields of green. But her mind was not on the weather. She dared to look at Tora again, and she knew. Soren. The Herald. Her heart felt like stone, thudding away in a rib cage of steel.
“Her name is Jessica. She belongs here with you and Soren,” Tora said matter-of-factly. “I simply am not prepared to be a mother. You were born to be nothing else,” she added, her tone neutral. “Now I must be off. The four-forty leaves in an hour, and I must have this coach back.” She broke off her businesslike monologue, came over to Kaatje—who felt like one of the stunned birds that occasionally hit her shanty window—and bent to kiss the child’s forehead. “Please take good care of Jessie,” she said with a brief crack in her voice. Eyes bright with tears, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Kaatje fought to find her own voice, hardly able to believe that all this was happening. A mother could not simply deposit a child like that and depart without a second glance. Could she?
Finally, she found the words her mind and heart were screaming. “No! Tora! What are you doing? What do you mean she belongs here? Tora! I will not take your child! Tora!” She ran after her. But Tora was already in the buggy and turning the mare around. She did not look back. The bassinet remained behind, left on its side in the middle of the road.
Dimly Kaatje was aware of Christina crying inside the house, awake from her nap. Yet all she could do was watch in numb disbelief as the black coach quickly wheeled back toward town, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. She felt the baby squirm in her arms and looked down. Sleepily the infant opened her eyes. They were not gray-blue like Christina’s and her own, nor deep blue like Tora’s. They were sky blue like Soren’s—and her tiny chin was a miniature model of his. There was no doubt about it. The child she held belonged to her husband. And now, apparently, to her.
It was all too much. Her knees weak, Kaatje knelt on the hard-baked dirt, the child in her arms, the plains’ breeze whipping about her, and wept.
Tora boarded the train in Bismarck, and as it pulled out toward Duluth, she felt freer than she had when she left Bergen. Her trial as a mother was over, and while her empty arms left her feeling a bit lost, she was overwhelmed by sensations of joy. Tora Anders was on her own at last, she thought, looking out at the endless plains. What a wondrous country America was! Why, Norway was only a small portion of the size! This land went on and on, and somewhere out there, she would find the right path that would lead her to her rightful position in society. She was sure of it.
Only one thing dampened her joy: a surprising concern for her daughter, which soon overtook her. But Jessica was better off with Kaatje. What future would the child have with Tora? If she took Jessie with her, Trent Storm would not employ her, and if she found another job, she would spend all her wages on a caretaker. That would not get ei
ther of them ahead in life. Soon enough Kaatje would fall in love with the child, in spite of the feelings she was bound to bring to the surface. And it served Soren right to have to deal with an enraged wife. It was only fair after what Tora had gone through.
Deciding that she needed a distraction, Tora pulled out the last letter from Trent Storm and the accompanying contract. To sign on with Storm Enterprises, she had to agree not to marry for a year—or forfeit half her wages. “No difficulty in that,” she whispered to herself, giggling at the thought. It would take her time to find the right man and win him. There was no rush, for she wanted to choose wisely. She had to admit, Elsa had been right about one thing: If one chose poorly, one lived with the consequences. Being alone with Jessica and the boys had drilled that into her. So from here on out, Tora would choose wisely.
Karl had wired ahead from New York, telling Bradford Bresley of his plans and his train schedule. When he stepped onto the station platform in Saint Paul and saw the man waiting for him, Karl felt the first smile pull at his lips since he had left the Sunrise almost two months ago. It was impossible to look at Brad and not grin. The man’s smile was so expansive, so joyous, that one could not help but join the fun. Perhaps he and Brad would eventually develop the kind of friendship and brotherly relationship he and Peder had forged—before he had ruined it all with his destructive infatuation with Elsa. If he had only prayed harder, been more devout in his beliefs, or been strong enough to leave before … No, he would not dwell on that now. He must put the past behind him. Saint Paul was a new beginning.
He reached out to grip Brad’s hand, smiling in return.
“How was your trip?” Bresley asked. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”
“It went well,” Karl replied. “Although I am glad to be off that train after the last six days. Give me a ship any day.”
“Lucky you got here that quickly. But you had better get used to it. Working with John J. Hall, we’ll frequently travel by train.”
“Yes,” Karl said, pointing out his two trunks to a porter. “I guess my future holds many changes.”
Brad searched his eyes quickly as if something in his tone made him suspect there was more to the story. “Yes, well, John will be happy to hear you’ve returned. Ever since you left, he’s been grousing about the need to get us moving on a new project.”
Karl picked up his valise and arranged with the porter to have the trunks delivered to his temporary residence at the hotel where he had stayed on his first trip to Saint Paul.
“I was hoping to get back out on the river,” he said as he and Brad made their way out of the station. “I’d like to gain some more steam experience.”
“I understand that,” Brad said, pointing to one of the coaches waiting at the curb. “But I’d wager that John will make you an offer it will be difficult to refuse. He has his mind set on us partnering in the new waterway business project. He wants us, with our combined experience, to head out shortly and do some scouting.”
“I don’t know if I want to take that direction,” Karl said, sitting down heavily on the seat inside the Hall coach.
Brad sat down across from him and took off his bowler hat, setting it beside him. “I understand. But, Karl, this is going to be big,” he said, gesticulating excitedly. “Trent Storm is in on it. Together we could make a killing.”
Karl sighed heavily. Suddenly the weariness from his weeks of travel seemed to catch up with him, making him feel it was all too much to take in. “Why me? Why not let me captain my own steamer on the Red River and find someone else?”
Brad shrugged. “Hall likes you. You’re obviously an entrepreneur; you’ve traveled the world. He probably figures this venture is right on track with your skills.” Brad leaned toward him. “Do you know how many men would kill to be in your shoes?”
“Perhaps I ought to let them,” Karl mumbled to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Karl sighed. Why did he feel so hesitant? Brad had just said that it was an unbelievable opportunity. Why did his heart tell him to walk away when his brain was telling him to move forward and not look back? “Let me ask you something, Brad.”
“Anything.”
“Do you feel entirely comfortable with the way Hall operates his business?”
Brad looked out the window briefly then back at Karl. “Don’t take that tack.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it is dangerous to question a man like John J. Hall.”
“What? Then why do business with him?”
Brad sighed. “My die was cast a long while back. Once John wants a man in his corral, he gets him. I was like you—young, untried. Few would give me the time of day. John took me under his wing, and bang, three years later I have a coveted position with John J. Hall Incorporated, a fine home, and prestige. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”
“But surely—”
“No.”
“Even if—”
“No.” Brad sighed again, looking more serious than Karl had ever seen him. “As I said, my die was cast. So is yours, my friend.” A smile grew on his lips but didn’t reach his eyes. “Fortune smiled on you though. It looks like yours came up sixes.”
Karl swallowed hard, suddenly feeling his mouth go dry.
Lugging two water buckets, Kaatje walked from the creek to water the newly planted elms. It was uncommonly hot for mid-May and worse with two babies strapped to her chest. Christina and Jessica seemed sleepier in the heat, napping for an extra hour, their bodies intertwined. Sweat trickled down Kaatje’s neck and back, and she longed for the cool mountain pools of Norway. For that matter, she was ready to climb into the meager creek or at least place her feet in one of the wooden water buckets. She shaded her eyes and looked all about her. From this location, there was not another farmhouse in sight, just miles and miles of sprouting wheat and prairie grass. How long had it been since she had seen the mountains? Her heart ached for home … for Soren, as angry as she was with him.
How could he make her love him so, when he took others to his bed … fathered other women’s children? She hated herself. Hated that she still cared for him. Kaatje paused and thought back to how he had looked the day he left, what he had said that last day. As her heart was splitting in two, he had taken her face between his hands and said, “Your job until I come home is to pray for rain and care for the livestock. I’ll be home soon, elskling. I promise.”
Kaatje, unable to say anything, only nodded and watched him go, walking to town on foot. From there he was to hop a train for Montana Territory, where the Northern Pacific was reportedly making its way toward the Rocky Mountains. He had not included in her list of duties that she would take care of his lover’s child. Kaatje cringed at the thought of what others would call the child as she grew up. She never wanted little Jessica to feel the anger of such a title. Over and over she had cast about, trying to figure out a way to explain the child’s arrival to the neighbors and to her Bergen friends at church. Whatever would she say? As a result she had not attended worship services last week, the day after Jessica had arrived, nor had she done so that morning. It was only a matter of days before Pastor Lien or one of the others would come to check on her.
She scanned the horizon again, her eyes landing on the waving prairie grass, soon ready for haying. How on earth would she do it alone if Soren did not return as promised? And with two small babies to care for? Kaatje felt panic rise in her chest at the thought. Not waiting another moment, she sank to her knees and looked down at her babies. Christina had an arm around Jessica, and Kaatje realized that she was growing to love the child, as much as she threatened to destroy her marriage. Jessie was the innocent, after all, and a child was a gift. Ducking her neck, she kissed one damp head then the other. Both slept on.
The prairie grass came up to her shoulders and waved about her in the gentle breeze. The soil was dry, but cool in the shade of the thin stalks, and Kaatje took a deep breath. “Father God,” she pra
yed aloud, “I need you. I am here alone with two children who are counting on me and an absent husband. Help me to find the way out of this. Help me.” A lump rose in her throat, and slow, fat tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at the sky, bleary through her tears, and cried out, “Father! You’ve gotten me this far! See me through. Dear God, see me through.”
When she finished an hour later, having confessed her darkest anger and the sinful desires that seeped into her soul, Kaatje felt spent but relieved. The image of letting the trees die, the livestock wither, and the desire to fill Soren’s half-completed well with rock had ebbed and died within her, the burden of her fury assuaged by the Savior. Kaatje would not destroy what was good in an effort to kill what was evil. She would carry on, for she was strong. And she was loved. Not through Soren’s inept attempts, but with an everlasting, ever-true love of Christ. Nothing could get in the way of that. And never had Kaatje felt closer to him.
Tora entered the handsome two-story wood building that housed Storm Enterprises and made her way to the front desk. A young man looked up at her and smiled appreciatively, taking in the Tuscan straw bonnet, the cream-colored sateen dress in the latest style, and the delicate ladies’ walking boots peeking from the bottom.
“I am here to see Mr. Trent Storm,” she said confidently, watching his eyes return to her own.
“Certainly, Miss …”
“Miss Anders. Tora Anders. I have an appointment.”
“I see. Please have a seat. Mr. Storm’s secretary will be out directly to fetch you.”
“Very well.” She made her way to a wooden bench and settled into it. She was pleased with her new purchase and hoped that Mr. Storm would be also. He had advertised for young, attractive girls, after all, and she wanted him to be impressed. If the man at the front desk was any indication, she should do well. It had taken her a week to find just the right things and seriously depleted her savings to purchase dress, hat, and shoes, but she knew it was vital to present a suitable image. Tora took a deep breath to steady her nerves. This was the key to her future; she was sure of it.
Northern Lights Trilogy Page 25
