Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  A knock sounded at the door. “Elsa? Almost ready?”

  “Yes!” She felt guilty spending so much time primping when the others had been in the kitchen, but as she left her room with Eve and entered the warm, low-ceilinged room, her fears were assuaged. The women still chattered around the stove and turned to admire her gown in earnest, in turn complimenting her and putting her at ease. Not one seemed to pass judgment on her.

  “Let me hold the baby,” Eira said, reaching for Eve. Elsa gladly handed her off. “Has anyone seen my son?”

  “He’s out with the other boys, playing in the haystack.”

  Elsa nodded with a smile. “Nora, put me to work.”

  “Here,” she said, handing her a steaming plate. “Cover that with a dish towel to try and keep it warm and take it to the barn. Ladies, I’ll need all of you who are available too.”

  They were all seated minutes later, an amazing feat with so many children in the mix. Everyone was hungry, she supposed. That will help every time. Gazing around the happy faces passing dish after dish, Elsa grinned too. Life was good. She had been given much. And she would give thanks until the day she died.

  As tempting as Elsa’s invitation to join them in the valley had been, Karl had to get back to San Francisco to deliver his load. When he knocked on the door of the Kenneys’ home, he thought of Elsa and her children, surrounded by their loving neighbors and friends of the Skagit Valley. They would be well cared for. He was confident in it. But there still was the slightest pang in his heart, a vague sense of missing something …

  “Karl!” Mrs. Kenney squealed, opening her arms to him as he moved past the maid. He was briefly enveloped by her voluptuous body and then released to face her giggling girls.

  “Hello, Mr. Martensen,” said Mara coquettishly.

  “Mr. Martensen,” flirted Nina, echoing her sister.

  “Ladies,” he said gallantly, giving them each a nod and a grin. In the months that he had been at sea, they had grown more lovely, but he was as sure as ever that his role for them would never be anything other than brotherly.

  “Martensen!” Gerald said, coming out of his study to heartily shake the younger man’s hand.

  “Gerald, it’s good to see you. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “And to you, my boy. And to you. Come in. Let me get you some refreshment,” he paused, looking pointedly at the maidservant, “and the ladies can join us in the parlor before dinner.”

  “After we freshen up, Papa,” Mara said demurely.

  “Yes, yes. Come when you can,” he said, waving her off.

  “I will get the hors d’oeuvres,” Mrs. Kenney said. “Please, Karl, leave your coat and hat with Ronni.”

  As directed, Karl slipped out of his coat and handed it and his hat to the maid. He followed Gerald into the parlor, smiling at the crackling fire in the fireplace and candles lit about the room. It was warm and cozy, the perfect place for a man to think, on a day such as this, about what he had been given.

  “You got the wood off-loaded,” Gerald stated, sitting down and handing Karl a crystal glass.

  “Yes. With little difficulty. Seems there’s as great a hunger for quality lumber down here as there ever has been.”

  “Excellent. Excellent, my boy. Will you make some more runs for me?”

  Karl smiled and hesitated. “Actually, Gerald, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that.” He edged forward in his seat. “Perhaps we should discuss it later, after dinner.”

  “No, no. Out with it.”

  “Well, you see, Gerald, you and I met at just the right time for me to accept captaincy of your ship. It seemed providential, right. And I have no quarrel with how you run your company or pay me,” he said urgently, searching his friend’s eyes. “The thing is that I’m not being a wise investor. I have enough capital to captain my own ship, and would like to have my own steamer built. My time sailing as a captain without more than a partial buy into the load was good, but it’s not wise for me to continue doing so. Not when I could be sailing my own ship, and taking a hundred percent of the profit.”

  Gerald chuckled and sat back. “I had no idea. I had no idea you had the means to buy your own vessel. I suppose I should be glad I got you when I did, son. You’ve done well for me and my investments.”

  Karl cocked his head, a bit embarrassed. “It takes a while to have a ship built. And I’ve just finished a design that I’ll order from Ramstad Yard in Camden. For the next year, I’ll continue captaining your vessel, if you’ll have me. Then we’ll need to find a qualified man to take over.”

  “What can I say?” Gerald asked. “I hate to think of losing you at all, but I am glad that I had you for a while.”

  “Oh, you’re not losing me, Gerald. I intend to be a friend to the Kenneys for a good long while.”

  “Oh?” said Mara, entering the room. She smelled of spicy perfume. Gerald grinned as he looked from one to the other.

  “Yes,” Karl said, shifting uncomfortably under her girlish gaze. Clearly, she had misinterpreted his words. But before he could say more, her sister and mother entered the room, and their conversation took another tack. Karl sighed. Surely, at some point, this too would have to be dealt with.

  epilogue

  A knock at their door one late November evening startled Tora and Kaatje as they huddled near their tiny woodstove. “Who could that be?” Tora muttered.

  “I hope everyone is all right,” Kaatje added as she went to the door and opened it to see Trent Storm.

  “Come on! You have to see them!” Trent practically shouted, unperturbed by the women shushing him. Christina peeked out from behind the curtain that separated their “kitchen” from the “bedroom” of their one-room home. Here in the new territory, there was precious little to choose from when it came to housing arrangements.

  “What, Trent? See who?”

  He grabbed her shawl by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You too, Kaatje. Get your girls up. It’s magnificent!”

  “What? Trent Storm, what do you mean, taking us outside on such a cold night?” Kaatje demanded in a friendly, wondering tone. Still, she motioned toward Christina, who with a squeal went to awaken Jessica. After throwing on more clothes, they moved outside as a group.

  Tora smiled as soon as they were away from the house. To the north, the aurora borealis was shining in such splendor that it took her breath away.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Trent exclaimed, placing an arm around Tora and another around Kaatje as they stared together. The girls stood in front of them, laughing and dancing at the sight.

  “Not since—” Kaatje began.

  “Bergen,” Tora finished. “But even there, I do not suppose I ever appreciated what I was seeing.” Over the mountains, streaks of purple and blue extended toward them, with red waves crossing the others as if a heavenly weaver were working on a fantastic loom.

  “Do they appear often here?” Kaatje asked hopefully.

  “On cold, clear nights, through April, I’m told,” Trent said. “We could see them at times in Minnesota, but nothing like this.”

  “I’m so glad they’re here,” Tora said. There was something about the mere presence of the northern lights that gave her comfort, like a small hug sent from home.

  “It is affirmation that we are on the right path,” Kaatje said. “Regardless of what is before us.” She moved away from the couple slightly and turned toward them, her face inscrutable in the near-darkness. “Thank you for coming with me, my friends,” she said. “I could not have done it without you.” Her voice broke a bit, and Tora moved nearer to her.

  “No, Kaatje. Thank you for allowing us to come. I cannot begin to describe what it means to me.”

  Kaatje shook her head, as if embarrassed. “Well, it is clear that you belong together. You two should marry.”

  Tora smiled and took her hand. “Soon enough,” she said over her shoulder to Trent. “Very soon. But first, let us move forward as one. When y
ou have found out what you need to about Soren, when I am sure that you and Jessie and Christina are well on your way—beside me or on your own—then Trent and I will marry.”

  Kaatje turned to Trent. “I am sorry, Trent. You see how stubborn she is?”

  Trent laughed and again placed an arm around each woman. “I recognize it. But for once her stubbornness is being used by the God who orchestrates nights like these,” he said, looking upward. “For now, I am content to be simply near Tora, and to be your friend too. I have a peace about it all that I cannot explain.”

  “Then God go with us,” Kaatje whispered, looking upward with Trent. In the silence, the northern lights created a holy atmosphere. So great was the sight and their momentum, it was surprising that there was not anything audible to accompany such a cacophony of motion.

  “God be with us,” whispered Trent.

  “God is with us,” finished Tora.

  To Andrea,

  who inspired me with dreamy talk of one day seeing Alaska

  and, since second grade, in many other ways as well.

  With love.

  Acknowledgments

  It seems my books get more complicated with each one. A number of people helped me out with historical detail: the Alaska State Office of History and Archaeology; the Washington State Historical Society; and the medical part of my clan—Drs. Cecil and Nancy Leitch; Dr. Paul Amundson; and Ann Leitch (their personal medical librarian)—corrected me on wound description and helped me research treatment in 1888. Debi Wilson, a loving bookstore owner in Alaska, made sure this Rarely-Out-of-the-Lower-Forty-Eight-Author got things right in writing about the Land of the Midnight Sun and passed along the legend of Mount Susitna via Ann Dickson’s Sleeping Lady. My husband, Tim, Tricia Goyer, Anjie Mote, and Liz Curtis Higgs read the whole raw manuscript and pointed out glaring errors. In addition, Sandra Byrd graciously allowed me to retell her story from her fabulous, moving, children’s book The White Pony (you need a copy for every child you know). Last, but certainly not least, it must be stated that Traci DePree is my gifted editor and makes me look much better than I really am. To everyone I’ve named, or should have named, thanks.

  NORTHERN LIGHTS SERIES

  The Captain’s Bride

  Deep Harbor

  Midnight Sun

  ALSO BY LISA TAWN BERGREN

  Refuge

  Torchlight

  Treasure

  Chosen

  Firestorm

  NOVELLAS:

  “Tarnished Silver” in Porch Swings & Picket Fences

  “Wish List” in Silver Bells

  “Sand Castles” in A Mother’s Love

  contents

  Master - Table of Contents

  Midnight Sun

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by This Author

  I The Eclipse

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  II Solar Flare

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  III Daybreak

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  section one

  The Eclipse

  prologue

  May 1888

  He had told her there was no singular Eskimo equivalent for the word “snow.” There were words for “snow spread out,” “old granulated snow,” “snow like salt,” “snow mixed with water,” and multiple other variations, but nothing for what the Norsks simply called “snø.” Kaatje glanced from the still-white banks of the Yukon River to her guide, James Walker, at the head of their riverboat, poling in tandem with his Indian friend, Kadachan, behind her. She shivered. She was glad that James knew this land like their native neighbors. It would be forever before Kaatje could get past the sheer, wild vastness of Alaska, let alone learn all the Eskimo derivations of “snow.”

  They had settled well in Juneau. Tora and Trent. Christina and Jessica. Kaatje. With the Storm Roadhouse open in the burgeoning city of Juneau near the end of the Inside Passage, and another about to open in Ketchikan to house and feed the growing number of tourists, she felt at home at last. She was financially secure, and after years of waiting and wondering, it was time to put her husband, Soren, out of her mind forever. To bury him in her heart.

  If he was indeed dead.

  James glanced back at her, and when she met his gaze, he quickly looked away, nodding toward a tree full of bald eagles. Kaatje sensed that she made James nervous. He didn’t understand her or her mad quest to find the philandering husband who had abandoned her. Trent Storm did not understand either, but as a friend he had helped her convince an obstinate James into taking her. Her thoughts drifted back to that day in Juneau when Trent had brought James to the roadhouse.

  “Let me get this straight,” James had said, running an agitated hand through his golden brown hair. He reminded her some of Peder Ramstad. James paced back and forth, glancing from Trent to Kaatje. He directed his questions toward Trent. “You want me to take a…a woman into the Interior? Do you know what you ask of me? A third of the settlers there die within a year. A year. And you want me to take a woman?” He stared hard at Trent.

  But James didn’t leave; he seemed intrigued. What drove his interest? Kaatje wondered. The unique challenge or the generous financial offer to see her through?

  “We know what we ask,” Trent said, his face betraying his own doubts about what he asked. He had become an older brother figure to Kaatje, watching out for her and her girls as well as his fiancée, Tora. “Believe me, man, I know what we ask. I have gone through it all with Mrs. Janssen, time and again. She has to do this. For personal reasons.”

  James turned to Kaatje. Tora Anders, beside her, squeezed her hand in encouragement as they faced the rugged mountain man. “You’ll have to tell me about those reasons,” he said firmly, hands on his hips. “Before I put my life on the line—as well as yours and my Indian guide—you’ll have to tell me.”

  She met his gaze, recognizing that their eyes were a similar shade of green. “They are personal.”

  “So is my life. Do you know that five miners were sent downriver last year, tied to a raft and their skin flayed open so the birds could peck at them all the way?”

  “The miners must have done something to enrage the Indians. If it was the Indians. It is my understanding that most are friendly. We simply will pass through their land.”

  “Most are fairly cooperative. Tolerant. I wouldn’t call them friendly. They only put up with our presence, for the most part. But sometimes they don’t.”

  He was trying to scare her—she could tell. But hardly anything frightened her anymore. She had lived through too much to be afraid. It was as if this was her destiny: Finding Soren or his grave. It was her whole reason for bringing her daughters to Alaska.

  “The Indians do not frighten you?”

  “No.”

  Kaatje noticed how his chapped, red cheeks made his eyes seem brighter, as if sparking. His full lips curled in derision. He was so sure he could talk her out of this! “What about the bears?” he continued. “There are grizzlies so big that they could tear your pretty head off your shoulders with one swipe.”

  “Mr. Walker.�
�� Trent warned, rising. Tora’s hand squeezed Kaatje’s again.

  James held up a hand. “No. She needs to hear it. And she needs to be prepared for the dangers that wait for us—for her. This is no walk down the lane; this is survival. And if she isn’t up to the task, she’ll be putting all our lives at risk. If she intends to come along, she needs to know I won’t coddle her.” He leaned closer, daring Kaatje to look away. “If the bears don’t get you, Mrs. Janssen, there are mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds that will eat at you all day and won’t let you rest at night. To say nothing of the flies. And the gnats! They get so thick at times that you have no choice but to breathe in a whole mess of them! You’ll sweat all day on the trail and shiver all night from the cold. We’ll be walking for miles, each of us carrying a pack. That includes you. Kadachan and I can’t manage your rations as well as ours.” He looked her over from head to toe. “That’s seventy-five pounds of pack, Mrs. Janssen.”

  “Mr. Walker!” Trent exclaimed, aghast at his lack of manners.

  “No, Trent,” she said clearly. “It is all right. Mr. Walker wants to know what he is taking on.” She stood as tall as possible to reach every bit of her five feet six inches and stared at him, forcing James to take a step backward. “I understand the risks, Mr. Walker. I have lived here in Juneau for long enough to have heard every one of the horrible rumors about death and dismemberment that the miners spread. I understand that there are frightening things ahead of us, challenges we must face.” She took a step closer. “But you need to understand this, Mr. Walker. You have never met a more determined woman than I. I have left my homeland in Norway to come to America. I bore a child on the plains of Dakota and traveled on to the Washington Territory after my husband abandoned me. I have broken virgin ground to plant crops and carried buckets of water to nourish them. With these hands,” she said, raising them both to defy his incredulous look. “I have raised two children by myself, while finding a means to support us. I am not afraid of a hard task. Do you understand me?”