Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “O God,” he muttered. “I have been as guilty as they. Forgive me.”

  Forgive them.

  Peder nodded once, knowing the truth yet unable to act upon it.

  Was it memories of similar conversations with Karl about steamboats that had made Peder react as he had earlier to Elsa? Her suggestions and careful tone irritated him, chafing at his mind. He swallowed back the suspicion, the disastrous assumption that Elsa had spoken privately with Karl, agreeing to side with him, to work on Peder from the inside. The image of them together, kissing, threatened to swallow him, like a sea monster dragging them all down to the bottom.

  She was innocent. Time and again Peder came to the same conclusion, chastising himself for thinking her capable of anything else. She was kind and loving to all and undoubtedly, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Karl, who had also known Elsa since childhood, became infatuated with her from afar. The life-threatening drama played out in the West Indies had brought it all to the surface, tempting Karl to reveal his feelings.

  God has a purpose for all things, he told himself. “And there had better be a good one for this,” he muttered, anger building again.

  With renewed resolve, he opened the letter to see what Karl had to say.

  23 June 1881

  Dear Peder,

  By this time, I assume that you know the truth of why I had to leave the Sunrise and your side. I have betrayed you, my friend, and I will be eternally sorry for my actions. Please know that the love I felt for Elsa is old, as much a part of me as my right arm. As I think about it, I suppose I fell in love with her right along with you. It does not excuse my rash actions, nor ease the anger you undoubtedly feel toward me. After that night on the island when my body took control of my soul, I knew I had no other choice. I had to leave. To get far away from Elsa. For as much as she is completely devoted to you, I doubted myself. Forgive me, Peder. Please forgive me. In time, I hope that both you and Elsa will find room in your hearts to forgive me.

  Things have progressed well in Saint Paul. John J. Hall has taken me under his wing, and as a result, I have been given unprecedented business opportunities. In that regard, I am hoping you might be able to buy out my investment in the Sunrise upon your return to Camden, essentially ending our business involvement for good. I trust that the ship is continuing to sail beautifully and that your voyage will pay off handsomely. I will use my portion of the bounty to invest here. For my future is here. You see, last night I proposed to Hall’s daughter Alicia.

  Peder let the letter fall to his desk. How could Karl have gone so far? Henry Whitehall and James Kingsley, when gently probed, had had little good to say about John J. Hall. The man was known for shady business practices and ruthless ways. Now Karl was about to marry the man’s daughter? Or already had … And invest in his business? Peder shook his head. Karl was headed on a dangerous path. But he was getting ahead of himself, Peder thought. Perhaps what Whitehall and Kingsley had shared was merely hearsay.

  I believe that this will be a wise move, Peder. Separating completely might allow us both to heal so that at some point we may reunite as old friends. It is not the way of our faith to allow such bitter feelings to fester, and I do not want to be guilty of throwing salt on the wound. I pray that you will forgive me. It is my hope that later we will come back together as the brothers we have always been.

  You should also know that I have seen Tora. She has moved to Minnesota and is reportedly being courted by Trent Storm, the famous dinner-house mogul. She seems well and happy, although she made it quite clear she does not want anyone to know of our past association. She is trying to begin anew here, and apparently figures any knowledge of her past would inhibit her progress. I am sorry to say I do not know what became of her child. I pray that you do.

  Wish all my old friends well from me, and if you find a moment to do so, pray that my own bride-to-be and I forge a marriage as solid as your own.

  Sincerely,

  Karl Martensen

  Tora opened her fan and closed her eyes as a wave of warm, humid air swept over her. Dressed for dinner and riding in Trent’s carriage, she felt as if she would suffocate in the heat.

  “Warm?” Trent asked mildly from the bench seat across from her.

  “It is stifling. Never in my life have I felt such heat.”

  “Bergen was never this warm?”

  “Warm, yes, but not so hot that one perspires. It is not even ladylike to shine like this.”

  “But hardly avoidable. The East Coast is similar once you leave the ocean.” Trent frowned slightly. “Which reminds me, Tora, I would appreciate hearing how you came to live in Camden-by-the-Sea. If it is not prying, of course.”

  Tora licked her lips. “Not at all. I’ve told you of that terrible night when my ship and loved ones went down to the bottom.” She frowned, working up some tears.

  “If it is too much—”

  “No,” she said, raising a hand. “It is only that when I think of my dear parents and sisters drowning, and that I am all alone in this world, it overwhelms me.”

  Trent nodded, his look compassionate, yet a bit wary. She had not yet hooked him, but he was intrigued. Tora was sure of it. Perhaps this evening would be the clincher.

  She shook out a handkerchief and dabbed at her face and neck. “Papa was quite wealthy and bound for America to increase his resources. We were all excited to come to the new frontier.”

  “What did you say your father’s business was?”

  “Mining, of some sort,” she said vaguely. “Papa never did want us girls to meddle the business. He thought it was thoroughly men’s work.”

  Trent nodded, apparently accepting her explanation. “Unfortunately, all he owned was sold and carried aboard that ship in gold,” she said.

  Trent frowned, and Tora immediately understood that such a move would have been a poor decision for a good businessman to make. “I will never understand why he did things the way he did.” A tear crested one lid and slowly rolled down her cheek. She smiled bravely. “He was a stubborn old man, and we never did see eye to eye. Nevertheless, I loved him and my family.”

  “Of course. It is a miracle that you survived.”

  “By the grace of God and a floating, broken mast to which I clung.”

  “What a horrible thing to have gone through.” Trent sat back and studied her as the coach came to a stop in front of the restaurant. “It is interesting that I did not read of such a disaster. Shipwrecks almost always make the headlines.”

  Tora had not thought of that angle. “It was an old clipper ship, mostly used for cargo. We were practically the only passengers aboard. Perhaps it was not newsworthy. Or perhaps you missed the newspaper that day.” She leaned forward. “But enough of sad memories. Really, Trent, I would prefer not to speak of it again. It is simply too painful. Should we not go in and eat? Hopefully it will be cooler indoors. And you will make me laugh like you always do, dear Trent, rather than bring a poor girl to tears.”

  “Indeed,” Trent said.

  She could feel his eyes upon her as she exited the coach, clinging to his hand. But she did not dare to meet his gaze.

  Karl stared at himself in the mirror as he wearily dressed for dinner. Alicia, proclaiming dining at home to be dreary, demanded they eat elsewhere each evening. Feeling inadequate and guilty for being unable to treat Alicia in the manner to which she was accustomed, Karl had procured a small loan from his future father-in-law to afford such niceties as dining in a restaurant each evening. Soon enough his own investments would begin to pay out, and he would find himself in a more affluent position. Until then he would simply have to swallow his pride.

  What continued to puzzle him … nay, trouble him … was the fact that Hall must have seen this predicament coming. Indeed, there was little doubt in Karl’s mind that John had thoroughly checked him out before hiring him. So why had he allowed such a poor Bergenser close to his daughter when his promising future still lay far off? Alicia had h
ad far more prosperous suitors, but for some reason, she and her father both had favored Karl from the beginning. He knew that Alicia was given to frivolous ways, and her devotion could be attributed to love. But what was Hall’s motive? The question plagued Karl.

  Certainly John appreciated the stature it gave him to have what he called a swashbuckling, prosperous sea captain for a future son-in-law, regardless of the fact that Karl had not captained his own ship prior to reaching Saint Paul. But why bet his daughter’s future on the promise of Karl’s until it was a sure thing? Instead, John had moved as he always did, making quick, sure decisions and never looking back.

  “Just never prove him wrong,” Brad had said when Karl voiced his qualms. “Never ever prove him wrong.”

  Karl had laughed uneasily, nodding as if he understood. But what would transpire if his future did not unfold as golden as they all anticipated?

  He wondered about this as he climbed into the Halls’ coach and tapped the roof with his cane. Alicia was lovely, and in her arms, he was able to push Elsa out of his mind. She was a delight, often making him laugh at her antics. How long had it been since he had laughed as he had these last weeks? Not to mention her powerful feminine wiles, which made him long for the physical pleasures of a married man. He had sailed long enough to hear many a bawdy story from the sailors aboard ship. He had even been tempted more than once by the women who worked the docks, but had abstained, conscious of the purity the Christian life demanded. Now the few kisses and embraces Alicia had allowed him were enough to drive him mad with anticipation.

  At the Hall mansion, where he waited for Alicia in the front parlor, Karl retied his ascot, watching his long fingers in the Tiffany-wrought mirror. His hands were getting soft, the calluses fading away. He thought of Elsa and the island as if they were a half-world and a lifetime away. Memories of Peder saddened him. For he knew that if his best friend dared to kiss his Alicia as he had Elsa, his own fury would burn bright. Why had he been so foolish? So weak? He shook his head at the madness of that night. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching for God in his heart. Why did he still feel so distant? Karl could make little sense of it.

  Alicia swept into the room, looking glorious in a deep green gown. She smiled brightly. “I thought we would try Chez Pierre tonight, darling. It’s all the rage about town. Janice said the food is unlike anything you have ever eaten in your life.”

  “Well, we cannot pass that up, can we?” Karl asked indulgently, glancing carefully around before taking her into his arms. She finished tying his ascot for him. “Unless of course I can persuade you to stay home and cook for a change.” He grinned as her expression turned to exasperation.

  She straightened to her full, petite height. “I am afraid it will be a long wait before I ever make you a meal. You can, however, join the family for breakfast or luncheon any day you wish.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “And that means?”

  “That I am better off eating all the crazy nonsense at Chez Pierre than daring to eat a meal you would cook.”

  Alicia giggled and relaxed. “Why, Karl, I believe you are developing a sense of humor.”

  “I thought it time to do so. Shall we go?”

  “Indeed,” she said. She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they strolled out to the foyer. “Mother?” she called.

  Mrs. Hall appeared at the top of the stairs. “Going?”

  “To Chez Pierre.”

  “Have a good time. Good night, Karl.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Hall,” he said with a nod.

  After they entered the coach and the driver had pulled out into traffic, Karl turned to his fiancée and asked, “Alicia, what can you tell me about the Parkers?”

  “The Parkers? Not much. Mr. Parker and Daddy once worked together.”

  “And now?”

  “They had a parting of ways. Daddy wants nothing to do with him. I hear,” she said carefully, looking Karl in the eye, “that Bradford has been seeing Virginia.”

  Karl nodded slightly. “Is that a problem?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “Why ever would it be a problem?”

  “I wondered how the association might affect your father, since Brad works for him.”

  “I cannot say. Yet I would not be surprised if Mr. Bresley is soon called upon to demonstrate his loyalty to Daddy.”

  “In what fashion?”

  “How should I know? Really, Karl, can we not speak of something more interesting than business? It’s all I hear from Daddy.” She reached into her beaded purse, and for the first time, he noticed how her hands trembled. He looked at her more closely. Her face was pale.

  “Alicia? Are you well? Should we return to the house?”

  “No, no. I am fine.” She unlatched her purse and fumbled in it. “I simply need some smelling sal—” Suddenly she slumped forward in a faint. Karl knelt and caught her, laying her gently on the seat as he yelled for the driver to stop.

  Alicia’s open purse spilled its contents on the floor. Face paint, a handkerchief, smelling salts. As he reached for the smelling salts, the coach came to a halt … and so did his hand. There, peeking out of the purse, was a small vial labeled Laudanum.

  By August the Sunrise was on her way home—“loaded to the gills,” as Riley put it—with rough-hewn lumber. The cargo cast such a sweet scent about the ship that Elsa had a hard time smelling the ocean’s briny odor she had come to know so well. Happily it reminded her of Seattle and her dreams of one day settling there.

  In her usual place on deck, she leaned against her chair back and sighed at the blank canvas before her. Her heart was unsettled, her spirits down. She and Peder were still not getting along. Ever since she had made one small comment about the potential of a lumber business, Peder had avoided her like a mosquito carrying malaria. Suddenly her painting was not expression; it was bondage. He wanted to confine her with it and to it, and preferably at Camden-by-the-Sea. Her painting was neat. Orderly. It worked well with his own vision of how life was to be.

  Elsa took her brush in hand and smeared a big, black streak of oil across the canvas, feeling better as each stroke of paint left her brush. Smiling for the first time in days, she took a swipe at the red and let that go. Then the green and yellow—although yellow was not nearly as satisfying as deep black.

  Peder climbed up the stairs toward her, and Elsa was eager for him to see her work. Perhaps it would be the catalyst to end their ongoing strife. He stood behind her silently, obviously taking in the canvas before them.

  “A new direction?” he tried after a bit.

  “An artistic expression,” she said, her voice clipped.

  “Of?”

  “I think you know, Peder.”

  “I do? Perhaps you could remind me.”

  She sighed and stood to face him. “I am frustrated. I am sorry I feel that way, but I do. We are in a partnership, you and I. You are not some king, and I am certainly not a servant.”

  “When have I ever—”

  “I know that I am a fortunate woman, Peder. Truly. And I appreciate it. But you move forward so often without talking with me first. Camden-by-the-Sea is lovely, but not necessarily where I want to live forever, especially alone. Continuing to build sailers rather than steam is your dream, but not necessarily what I think is wise. Still,” she said, putting up her hands as Peder stuttered in fury and grew red at the neck, “I understand that it is your business. So I go along with it. But when I come up with an idea, I do not wish for you to dismiss it summarily. I simply ask for the respect I deserve.”

  Peder groaned. “You do not think I respect you? What I have given you, provided for you, isn’t enough? Our home? Your painting lessons? Bringing you along?” He looked at her as if she were a spoiled child.

  “You have given me a great deal, Peder. That is not what I mean. What I speak of is what we have, what we do, together—our future. What we work on, work toward, together. I want it to be our dream, Peder.” She rea
ched out to touch his hand, and it seemed to steady him, calm him. “I want to be your partner in those dreams, too, your friend. Your best friend. I know you miss Karl. And I know you still struggle to forgive me. Can I do anything about that?”

  Peder sighed and looked out to sea. “You are my wife, not my business partner. A woman’s place is at home, minding the house and children. You see what my decision to bring you along has already brought us? More discontent. Not to mention almost getting you killed.”

  Elsa swallowed the quick words that jumped to her tongue. “A woman’s place, Peder, is at her husband’s side. Why label it as discontent? Perhaps it’s vision.”

  “We cannot chase two dreams, Elsa.”

  “No,” she said, tentatively placing an arm around his waist. “But we can pursue our dream.”

  Peder pulled away. “I have given you all there is to give. If it is not enough, so be it.”

  Elsa watched as her husband climbed down the steps and went to rant at some poor sailor who had tied a square knot instead of a bowline. Biting her lower lip, she picked up her brush again and painted a big, black stripe over the first.

  Days later, Peder’s argument with Elsa still lingered. He could not rid himself of the bile that rose in his throat each time he thought of saying he was sorry. He was torn between the honest belief that his path was the right one for Ramstad Yard and his devotion to his wife—between forgiving and holding on to his righteous anger. He was beginning to feel that there would be no end to her suggestions, her requests, which aggravated him. Was this married life? Or perhaps he had been a captain for too long.