Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  If only I had had a chance to say good-bye, she thought again, picturing Kaatje’s face, the two girls, and lastly Tora’s. She was a bit jealous, she decided, that Kaatje and Tora had forged a new friendship strong enough to take Tora northward with Kaatje, when she herself and Tora were more distant than ever. What kind of sisters were they? If Carina were here, then … “Uff da!” Elsa muttered under her breath, turning away from the window. Since when had she started feeling so sorry for herself? She went to her desk and sat down with Kaatje’s last letter.

  20 September 1887

  Dear Friend,

  I ache with sadness that we are not to see each other one final time before we leave for Alaska. Word has reached me that you have been waylaid in the Hawaiian Islands with a broken mast, and your homecoming has been delayed. I had so hoped you might join our harvest celebration and see us off. Perhaps your shipping excursions can soon bring you to the Alaska territory.

  Please celebrate with me, Elsa. I am so sure this is the right direction. Although Soren is most probably long gone, it will bring me peace of mind to at least attempt to find out the truth. And I am certain that God takes me there not only to gain this knowledge, but also to explore a new phase of my life. While farming has its rewards, perhaps there is a more genteel way of making a living in such a new, rough place. Please pray that we all remain safe. It remains my chief concern.

  Tora continues to surprise me. She shores me up when I begin to doubt, and we grow closer by the day. Almost like the sister I never had—aside from you, of course! Knowing that she will at least travel by my side and be my companion through the winter gives me the confidence I need to get there. Never did I anticipate that my rallying forces would come from such an unexpected sector. But our God is one of surprises, is he not? It heartens me to think of him smiling over our simple expectations and how easily he outsmarts us for our greater good.

  Tora has sent word to Trent Storm that she intends to go. I assume we shall see him here before we depart. Her relationship with Jess is one of a doting auntie. Each knows who the other truly is, but it has not disrupted our family life a whit. This, in itself, is a small miracle.

  We head north in ten days’ time, and make our way toward Juneau. It is the biggest town of consequence where we can safely winter and begin to make inquiries about Soren. I will write as soon as I can.

  Until then I remain

  Your devoted friend,

  Kaatje

  A tap at the door interrupted her reverie. “Come in,” she called idly.

  Mrs. Hodge hauled in a canvas bag full of letters over one shoulder and Eve on the other. “Mail call,” she said drolly. “More response from your last column in the Times. And a child in need of her mother.”

  Elsa shook her head and smiled. She took Eve and cooed at her daughter’s pudgy, smiling face. “I am amazed that so many take the step to wish me well. I guess there are a few people out there pleased to know that Mason Dutton is no longer a threat.” When the Japanese ships had moved in, they had made short work of Dutton’s schooner, although they lost two of their own in the battle. Mason had managed to slip ashore, but he had been captured and sent to Britain. He was due to hang in a month’s time.

  “Any personal letters?” Elsa switched Eve to her other shoulder.

  “I didn’t sift through them all,” Mrs. Hodge said.

  Just then, Kristian edged past her legs. “Mama!”

  “Hi, love,” Elsa said, ruffling his hair. “Want to look through the letters with me?”

  “Yes!” he said in delight. He sat down by the bag and began to dump handfuls to the floor. When Mrs. Hodge moved to stop him, Elsa shook her head. “I’ll have to go through them all eventually. We might as well let him have some fun with them.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m going to see to supper. You’ll be all right with the children?”

  “Just fine,” said Elsa, smiling at each. She should have gone to get her children earlier—she could never remain melancholy with them about. “And Mrs. Hodge?”

  “Yes?”

  “The children and I will travel north to the Skagit Valley for Thanksgiving. That should give you some time off to concentrate on your own family.”

  “Very well!” she said, looking pleased at the news. “When do you intend to leave?”

  Elsa thought for a moment and then said, “Midmonth. I’ll send a wire to Nora and see if she and Einar can put us up.”

  “Very good, Mrs. Ramstad. I’ll see to the arrangements once you get me the specific dates.”

  After the children were down for their naps, Elsa donned her overcoat and, using an umbrella, set off for the cemetery. It was time to pay Peder’s grave a visit. She thought it might bring her some semblance of peace, some understanding for her disquieted heart. She passed by the three blocks quickly and turned into the somber place, the ground already soggy and giving way beneath her feet after all the recent rain. Pulling up her skirts in one hand, Elsa wrinkled her nose and trudged on. She was alone in the graveyard. Here and there, bits of fog hung about the stones.

  Peder’s grave site remained exactly as she had left it. She pulled away the dead flowers beneath the stone and replaced them with marigolds she had cut from the garden before departing. That done, she stood and sighed. Elsa gave the stone a melancholy smile, picturing Peder’s face instead of the anchor.

  “I suppose you’d have a thing or two to tell me,” she began. “No doubt you’re displeased with me taking to sea alone. But even you would have to admit that I’ve done all right for myself, love. Even faced down Mason Dutton and made it out alive.”

  She shifted her umbrella to the other hand. “I still have a lot to figure out. Such as how to be both a mother and a father to our children.” Elsa listened to the raindrops fall on the canvas of her umbrella for a moment. The ground smelled of freshly turned peat. “No, you’re right. I’ll just have to be a mother to them and hope it’s enough.” She smiled again, but this time there were quick tears in her eyes. “It’s getting better, Peder, it really is. I just miss you so. And I ache for the void your departure leaves in our children’s lives. I wanted them to know you.” The last part was spoken in a whisper, her voice cracking.

  Elsa wiped her eyes and smiled with new resolve. “So I’m moving forward the best way I know how. Apparently the way everyone else does it. You wouldn’t believe Tora these days. I don’t know if I’d recognize her as the same girl. And Karl has become a fine friend.” She pictured his longer, curlier hair and earring, his bright teeth when he grinned at her, then pushed away the image. “Kaatje’s heading off for Alaska, and here am I, alone for the first time.”

  Alone for the first time. The thought struck her. That was it. That was the reason for her restlessness. Yes, she had the children. But when was the last time she had ever been truly alone as an adult? Kaatje had come to her as a companion last fall. Her spring and summer were spent in the company of Riley and the men, her attention drawn to the next horizon as the Grace sailed on. “It’s because I’m home, alone. I’m forced to deal with the quiet,” she whispered.

  Elsa sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I am forced to deal with the fact that you’re gone, and never coming back.”

  The rain came down more steadily now.

  “I will make it,” she announced, then looked around, a bit embarrassed at how loudly it had emerged from her mouth. Fortunately, she was still by herself. She stared at Peder’s stone, the cutter’s marks, the anchor. “With God by my side, I shall make it.”

  Unable to tolerate the silence any longer, she kissed her fingertips and bent to touch the stone. “Good-bye, Peder. I miss you. I love you.” And with that, she turned and walked away.

  thirty-one

  As Elsa flicked the reins over the gray’s back, taking her rented carriage west to Nora’s home, she looked about, wishing she was soon to see Kaatje and the girls, as well as the others. It was a sunny afternoon, but the air held the crisp heartiness of fall. Th
e ground lay fallow beside the road, Kaatje’s crops already borne by railroad to the nearby granaries and cities to be distributed. In the year since he had begun operations here, Karl and his associates had made great changes for the valley. It was obvious that a newfound prosperity was upon them—new homes were completed, the church expanded, and the roads graded.

  Elsa used one hand to tuck Eve in amid her blankets and bassinet. Kristian held on to the side rail and grinned as if he were on a carousel rather than a buggy. “Faster, Mama, faster!”

  “I think this is fast enough,” Elsa said with a smile. “This old gray will pass on to heaven if we go any faster.”

  “Like Papa?” Kristian asked soberly.

  Elsa’s grin faltered. “Yes,” she said, too brightly, “like Papa.”

  “Who are we going to see again, Mama?” Kristian asked, his mind moving past Peder much faster than Elsa’s could.

  “We’re going to see all the people who came to America with us, people from Bergen.”

  “Do they all talk funny?”

  Elsa laughed. “Some of them still speak Norwegian, but most speak English with an accent. Some talk just like you,” she said, poking him in the tummy. “Now hold on, Kristian. We’re turning here.”

  “Whoa!” Kristian said, overly dramatic for the calm turn.

  “Nearly lost it, eh?” Elsa asked with a grin.

  “Almost overboard,” he said. Elsa winced at the comment, but he continued, unconscious of the reminder of his father’s death. “Mama, when will we ship out again?”

  “I haven’t decided, love. It could be as long as four months.”

  “What’s a month?”

  “A long time.” Nora’s house came into view. “Here we are!” Elsa exclaimed. In her heart, she knew this was just the place for her to come. Even though Kaatje and the girls were gone, she knew that simply being with her old family friends would bring a measure of healing. Had it been over a year since she had come with the news of Peder’s death? She shook her head. Time had crawled at first, but the last six months had flown by.

  Nora emerged and stepping-stone children followed her out, circling her skirts. “Five of them!” Elsa exclaimed, pulling the gray to a stop and hopping down. She turned to help Kristian, but he had already jumped out the other side. She reached instead for Eve. “I’m afraid I’ll never keep up with you,” she said to Nora, moving into her embrace even though she held her youngest.

  “Ah well, two are enough, by anyone’s standards,” Nora said, embracing her with a fleshy hug. She had grown quite rotund in the last year. “How are you, friend?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Elsa answered, looking into her eyes. There was no hint of melancholy to her tone, just truthfulness. “And you?”

  “Fat and happy,” Nora said with a smile.

  Elsa shook her head and laughed.

  “Come in, come in,” Nora said, taking Eve from her to introduce the babe in her other arm. “Eve, meet Jahn. Master Jahn, Mistress Eve.” Elsa trailed behind them, smiling. Already she felt worlds better. The last month had been good for her. She had fasted; she had prayed. She had concentrated on being alone and finding a place in her heart that made it all right to be so. But it was great to be among family again.

  As if reading her mind, Nora glanced at her and asked, “What do you hear from your mother these days?”

  “Not a lot. It’s been several months. She has moved in with Garth and Carina.”

  “That’ll be good for her. A body can only take so much solitude.”

  Elsa nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. “So you’ll be hosting a tiny little crowd here on the morrow?”

  “If you call forty-two tiny, yes.”

  Elsa laughed. “I suppose it’s difficult to host fewer, with the way your families grow like weeds out here.”

  Nora joined her in laughter. “Ja. But I’m glad for the difficulty. It’s a happy burden to bear.” She turned at the door. “Now come in, come in. I’ll show you to your room so you can get the children settled.”

  “Thank you, Nora,” she said, hoping her eyes conveyed the gratitude her heart felt.

  Nora waved it off. “In you go, miss. We’ll have time enough for the sentimentalities.”

  That next afternoon, it was raining “like cats and dogs” Einar said, using the American expression. The men had constructed rough tables and benches in the barn, and the women had brought their best linens. Elsa was amazed. With the linens and candlelight, the stalls mucked out and fresh hay applied, the barn was transformed. The tables were set in the middle of the main room of the barn, with hay stacked high all around to help to keep it warmer. With hot bricks at their feet and the combined body heat of over forty people, the room would serve them well.

  She left the barn after setting out the silver and ran to the house in the rain, splashing through puddles. She had to remove her boots in the room just off the kitchen, and briefly wished for more practical clothing here in the country. Before leaving Seattle, Elsa had picked up her first dresses denoting she was out of mourning. Nothing radical, she thought, but the subtle gray-blue, light green, and pale yellow gowns lifted her spirits upon sight. Tonight she would wear the gray-blue. It was the sturdiest and most subtle of her gowns, more fitting among her countryfolk who did not pay much attention to the latest styles in Paris, as did Madame de Boisiere.

  Smells of steamed carrot pudding and spices filled her nostrils as she unlaced her boots. Elsa smiled, salivating a bit at the thought of the heavy dessert, covered in a rich, sugary sauce. What a treat to be with friends, eating meals that reminded her of her mother. Mother. How she wished she could see the dear lady again! A thought struck her and she smiled. What was to stop her? Why not take a load of lumber this winter and head to Norway? The cargo would probably be a wash, but would pay for her voyage. She could return to the East Coast with a load from Europe. After seeing Mother.

  What joy it would be to introduce her children to their grandmother! And to see Carina and Garth … married. And it would be good to see Peder’s parents. How they, too, would cherish the chance to meet Peder’s offspring. She slapped the bench at either side of her waist. She would do it. She would take the new ironclad schooner and travel to Norway after the holidays, arriving in time for Easter. It was befitting, she supposed. Easter was a time of rebirth, renewal, celebration of their Lord’s resurrection. So too would she renew her familial ties and celebrate what she did have, instead of focusing on what she did not.

  She rose and entered the kitchen, in a higher mood than she had felt in months.

  “Ach,” Nora muttered, peering into a steaming pot.

  “Can I help?” Elsa offered.

  “No, no. You go and get dressed. I’ll be needing you in an hour.” She turned to peer at Elsa. “You’re leaving your mourning black behind today?”

  “I was thinking so …” Elsa said, suddenly uncertain. “Do you think it’s been long enough? I’ve been in black for over a year—”

  “Oh yes,” she muttered, turning back to her pots and stirring. “You do what is right in your heart. Your people will support you.”

  Elsa nodded. She felt ready for the color of clothing, for life in general again, yet parting from her black was like leaving the last vestiges of Peder behind. I’m not forgetting you, love, she thought. I’m simply moving forward. Knowing how Peder loved her in glorious gowns of amazing colors, she determined he would be glad for it. Thanksgiving, like Easter, was a time of being thankful for what one had been given. She was alive. She had her children. She had her friends. She would live.

  After church services, the Bergensers hurried back to the Gustavsons’ through the miserable weather. By the time they got back to the farm, Elsa’s new gown was soaked from the trim of the skirt to the waist. She had no choice but to change into her light green. She hoped it would not seem showy to change when the others hovered about the woodstove trying to dry, but Nora had insisted. Sighing, she laid Eve on the bed an
d began the arduous process of changing clothes. After getting down to her lingerie, a quick look in the mirror told her that her attempt at a coiffure was a disaster, and her hair would need attention too. Eve squawked and rolled over, playing with a button on the down comforter of the bed as if it were the most transfixing item she had ever seen. She leaned to suck on it.

  “No, you don’t,” Elsa said with a laugh, lifting the babe into her arms while she pulled the combs from her hair. Eve’s attention turned toward Elsa’s tresses. Elsa let her play with one strand while she brushed out the rest of her hair. It had grown long, to her waist, and she considered cutting it off to her shoulders, with just enough to do up in fashion, but not so much to deal with. Perhaps in time she would have the courage to take such an outrageous action.

  “Ahyaa,” Eve said.

  “To have your hair,” Elsa sighed, stroking the baby’s nearly bald head. There were faint wisps of blond curls, but nothing of consequence yet. She put the girl back down on the bed, handed her the comb to play with, and returned to the mirror. Quickly, she swept her hair into a simple knot and secured it again with the combs. Then she shook out her green dress and pulled it on, using a button hook to bring the simple bodice together. Once done, she smoothed the skirt and took another look.

  “Not bad, considering I can barely breathe,” she muttered. Madame de Boisiere relished her small waist—not quite as small now after two children—and liked to accentuate it with the lines of the day. The green wool had darker green silk stripes of velvet ribbon, which followed her feminine curves. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and a skirt that dropped in large, loose folds over a straight skirt beneath.

  “Ahyaa,” Eve said again.

  “You like it too, eh?” Elsa asked, knowing the girl still stared at her comb. She felt good in the dress, pretty for the first time in ages. Well, at least since Lady Bancock’s ball. It was such a relief to wear color again, yet it felt a bit scandalous. The sensation gave her a thrill. It would all take some getting used to after so many months of somber colors.