Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “They are already working—”

  “Enough!” Karl said, putting up one hand. “See to it that they pick up the pace!”

  Antonio’s face grew red with embarrassment. “Yes, Captain Martensen.”

  Karl turned on his heel and left.

  Later, walking along the waterfront, he felt ill over his actions. Antonio and his men were clearly doing their best. He had misplaced his anger. His anger was at himself, for his own inaction when it came to Mara. He stopped at a store window and stared at himself in the mirrorlike glass, not seeing the goods beyond it. He only saw a man of thirty-two, with ash-blond hair and large gray eyes that looked empty.

  Karl sighed and leaned his forehead against the glass. “I’ve done it again, Lord,” he confessed in a whisper. “I’ve left without you and gotten into a mess. Help me, Father. Help me see my way out of it. Amen. Amen and amen.”

  It was then that he saw it. His eyes focused beyond the glass, to the jewelry on the black velvet behind it. A necklace in a huge teardrop form, a sapphire. A sapphire exactly the color of Elsa Ramstad’s eyes, the color of an island cove’s water at dusk. He had to have it. For her.

  Immediately he entered and purchased the necklace, unflinching at the price and tucking the velvet case into his breast pocket. He never stopped to think about why he purchased gifts for his old friend; he just knew there were things he came across occasionally that were meant for no other. He didn’t remember when he started buying them—he supposed it started with the Italian Gallì glass “fish pot” painted with water lilies that brought back memories of Elsa in the Far East. And then there had been the Japanese cloisonné palace vase painted with a dragon and phoenix images, reminding him of how far she had come and grown since losing Peder; the Scottish agate bracelet with immense colored stones set in gold and silver, that reminded him at once of her strength and her beauty.

  And now the huge teardrop sapphire on a slender silver chain. How it would bring out her eyes! He knew not where or when or how or why he would give his old friend this gift. He only knew it was meant for her. Just as the others had been.

  ten

  September 1888

  Lora convinced herself she should go to Decker again. Ever since she had seen him in the prison the previous month, she had begun to realize how lost he was. At first she had fought it, grumbling against God for his urgings. Surely he would allow her to hate this man who had torn her life, her security, into pieces. And yet God nudged, reminding her of his infinite mercy, his forgiveness toward her when she had been so unlovable. And even though Decker deserved whatever punishment the judge rendered, God offered his Son for everyone. Even Decker. She felt pulled in half. Her heart was relieved at the thought of seeing Decker sent away to pay for what he had done to her, yet the image of him hanging because of her pointing finger left her…unsettled. It was the unsettled half of her heart that made her determined to go to the jailhouse.

  She decided she would not tell Trent—the whole thing would just upset him. Besides, there would be a deputy inside the jailhouse. And she did not care who overheard their conversation because she was going solely to share the gospel. Or was it more? The notion nagged at her. Did she need to do this to conquer some inner fear? The fear that awakened her at night in a sweat? Perhaps she had two reasons to go. In any case she was going.

  Tora rose from bed and considered her dresses in the armoire. She pulled her most subdued dress from its hangar, a yellow-brown plaid work dress she had worn the last time she went to see Decker. Once she had her drawers and corset on the best she could by herself, she pulled the dress over her head and then brushed out her long, dark hair.

  Staring at her image in the small oval mirror on the wall, she decided to pull it back in a severe bun, hoping to make herself as unappealing as possible. She decided not to use any color on her cheeks or the lip balm. No use dangling a carrot before the horse. She winced at her own internal analogy. But that was what she was to Decker, at least at one time. A carrot, something he wanted to get with a singular purpose…

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the memories of those awful days away. But it was no use. They came in a bombardment as thick as her sisters’ old snowballs on a clear winter day in Bergen, pelting her without mercy.

  Tora felt ill and out of breath. She sat down on the edge of her bed, then sank to the floor, gasping for air as the memories came on. He was on her, tearing at her clothes, whispering lewd things in her ear. He laughed when she cried, told her no one could hear her when she screamed. She struggled, but he was so strong.

  She cried for an hour or more, unable to stem the tears. “How could he?” she whispered, wiping her face. “How could he?” She looked up. “How could you let him?”

  No voice welcomed her. No mellow tone from within told her the answer.

  “I know he is lost. I know I was too. But how can I give a man who did such hateful things to me a second chance?”

  I am the God of second chances.

  Tora sucked in her breath. “But can you not get to him some other way?”

  This is for you, as much as for him.

  “Please, Father. I have done my penance, have I not? I went to Kaatje. I asked forgiveness and she granted it. Must this be too?”

  It must be you.

  Tora did not want to pray anymore.

  God only gave answers she did not want to hear.

  And he led her to a path that terrorized her.

  “Auntie Tora, where are you going?” Christina called from the kitchen. Judging from the flour on her apron, she and her sister were working on their bread.

  “Just out for a minute. I will be home within the half-hour. Bye,” she called, before they could ask her anything else. She shut the glass door behind her and prayed for strength. I’ll just pretend. I’ve pretended to be more than I am before. Now I’ll just pretend I’m brave and fearless.

  She strode across the street, shoulders back, head held high. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to calm the trembling in her hands. But when she reached for the jailhouse doorknob, she saw that her hands still shook. Biting her lower lip, she opened the door.

  “Deputy,” she said to the man rising behind his desk. “I would like to have a word with your prisoner named Decker.”

  “Certainly, ma’am.” He turned to lead her down the short hallway to the three cells. “I’ll have to stay with you since you don’t have no menfolk with you this time.”

  “I would be most appreciative.”

  A long whistle greeted her. “You can try and make yourself look unappealing, Miss Tora, but it ain’t no use. You’re a siren in any dress. No matter what you do with your hair.”

  Tora resisted the urge to turn tail right there and run. “I would like a word with you, Mr. Decker.”

  “Seems like you just had seven or eight.”

  “Don’t be smartin’ off to the lady,” the deputy warned. He turned to Tora. “You sure you want to talk with this no-account?”

  “Yes. May I have a chair?”

  “Be right back, ma’am.” He left right away.

  “See?” Decker said, still lying back on his cot. “Even the deputy has an eye for—”

  “Decker,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “I have come for one reason. Have you opened that Bible I sent to you? To the book of John?”

  “You sure didn’t seem like a churchgoer when I met ya. Sure you were a schoolmarm and—”

  “Decker. Have you read that Bible?”

  He looked at her strangely. “I don’t believe I have.”

  “You ought to,” she said. “There is an incredible message in there. Someone…cares about you.”

  He rose and walked quickly toward the bars, leering at her. “That you who cares about me, Miss Tora?”

  The deputy came then with the chair and rapped him on the knuckles where they lay exposed on the bars. Decker backed off, rubbing his hands with the look of
a wounded tiger.

  But Tora stepped closer to him, infuriated. “Certainly not. Sadly, I cannot muster one ounce of care for you, Mr. Decker. Everything in me hates you. Hates what you did to me. I want to see you hang! I want to cheer when they string you up!” She turned, letting out a sound of pure frustration. Then she turned back to him. “But my God, our Lord, won’t let me hate you in peace. He won’t let me forget that you abducted me, used me, until I do this. He wants me to forgive you, which, I confess, seems a long way away from me right now, but he wants you back in the fold. Isn’t that just dandy? Here I am, a woman who has every right to revel in her hatred of you, especially now, now that you’re caught. And I’m supposed to lead you home.”

  Her hands splayed as she let out another sound of frustration. She shook her head. She’d said what she’d come to say—whether or not he took it was up to him. She rose and left, knowing that the deputy and prisoner watched her go.

  Tora was halfway across the street, so deep was her consternation, before she noticed the trio in front of the roadhouse. It was a moment longer before she noticed who it was.

  “Kaatje!” she cried, running the rest of the way. She embraced the woman, ignoring the grime and weariness that shrouded her pretty face. “Oh, Kaatje, Kaatje!”

  “Tora!” she returned, squeezing her tightly. “It is so good to see you! How are my girls?”

  “Just fine, just fine. You won’t believe how they’ve changed in the four and a half months you’ve been gone.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she said sadly, wrinkling up her brow. “I am glad I went, but I will always be sorry I missed these days with you and the rest of my family.”

  “I’m so glad you’re home!” She burst into tears, the strain of everything proving too much.

  “Tora, are you all right?” Kaatje pushed her slightly away, wondering at her expression.

  “Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I’m just so, so glad you’re home!” She gave Kaatje another hug. “Quick, let’s surprise the girls around back. You wait there, and I’ll send them out to feed the poor and homeless!”

  James and Kadachan laughed, and Tora focused on them for the first time. “You all look like you’ve been traveling a long while. Please, we’ll get you a good meal, a bath, and a bed within the hour. But give me the pleasure of surprising the girls!”

  They agreed, but reluctantly. Tora could feel their incredible weariness. They had covered untold miles and who knew what they had discovered. She resisted the urge to ask as they turned to walk around back; she would find out when Kaatje was ready to tell them all.

  She smiled, feeling weary herself from the drastic change in emotions, and her neck tingled with excitement at the approaching reunion. She could hear the girls in the kitchen as she entered the restaurant. Trent sat at a corner table, reviewing papers and accounts. When Trent looked up, she motioned him to follow.

  “Girls,” she said, as she entered the tiny kitchen, “there are people in back asking for a bite to eat.”

  “Must we feed everyone who comes around?” Christina groused. Tora guessed she was hot and tired.

  “I think you’ll be glad you did.”

  “Yes, Auntie Tora,” Christina said obediently. “I know. I always am.” She gathered up a hot loaf of bread while Jessie brought a chunk of cheese from the larder. Together they went outside and a moment later shrieked in joy.

  Tora grinned at Trent’s curious expression and led him outside. Kaatje was embracing one girl and then the other. Then both at the same time.

  It was then that Tora looked at the men beside Kaatje and saw something unmistakable. James Walker and Kadachan looked on with care in their eyes. But something in James’s expression was different—it held an intensity, the way his eyes trained on Kaatje, followed her every movement. It was as if he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Clearly James was in love with Kaatje.

  While they ate and ate and ate that late afternoon, Trent suggested a town dance, held in honor of Kaatje’s safe return.

  “Killing the fatted calf, are you?” she quipped, as if the prodigal had at last returned. “At least wait until Saturday. I need to sleep for days. And soak in a tub for about as long.”

  “Saturday it is,” Trent agreed. “We’ll put on a party that will only be outdone by our wedding reception.”

  “It is coming soon enough,” Tora evaded, coyly smiling back at him.

  “It is? When?”

  “You silly, we decided on October thirtieth, remember? If my sister isn’t home by then, she’ll just be missing Juneau’s biggest celebration.”

  Trent laughed, his scalp tingling in exhilaration. “October thirtieth it is! She’s kept me out to pasture so long, I can’t even remember the date!” He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. “I guess we ought to get busy. Two parties to manage within six weeks.…”

  Kaatje rose. “Forgive me, but you will have to plan this first one without me. If I don’t get to bed right now after a quick bath, I will fall asleep here, and the supper crowd will just have to step over me!”

  James laughed, but Trent wondered if he looked a little sorry at the idea of saying good-bye to her. There sure was a difference in the way the man looked at Kaatje from when they first met. He had been surly and irritated with her obstinateness before, but now he looked…smitten. But, he reminded himself, it was like that with Kaatje. Anyone who got to know her had to love her. He swiftly glanced back to the man. Love her? Was James Walker in love with Kaatje?

  She had not mentioned whether or not they had found sign or sight of Soren. Instead the hour had been spent eating huge quantities of food while the girls chattered on about what had kept them busy these last months.

  Christina stopped talking as her mother rose, and when there was a pause, she asked, “But, Mama. What about you? We want to hear all about your journey! And about—”

  “And you shall,” Kaatje said, bending over to pinch her chin, “very soon. But for now, I must go and bathe and get to bed. I’m very serious—if I do not, I feel as if I could sleep right here.”

  “Your bath is ready, Mrs. Janssen,” Charlie said from the stairwell. “I took up eight buckets, so it’ll be nice and deep!”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said, passing him by. She paused on the stairs, suddenly remembering James and Kadachan. “Oh, forgive me.” Her hand went to her mouth, apparently moved at the thought of her friends’ departure. “We’ve been together so long, I can’t seem to remember how to say good-bye.”

  “No need, Kaatje,” James said tenderly, twisting his hat in his hands. “We’ll be about for some time. At least for the weekend’s party.”

  “Would you like to stay here?” Tora volunteered. “I told you we’d give you a room, bath, and a bed.”

  “No need, Miss Anders. We always stay down the street. We don’t want to impose—”

  “Never you mind about that,” she interrupted. “Charles, please see to warming more water. The gentlemen will be staying in the third and fourth guest rooms upstairs.” Charlie groaned, but she ignored him. Trent hid his smile and looked back at Kaatje.

  The news that they planned to stay seemed to ease the wrinkles from her brow. She gave them all a small smile and said, “It is so good to be home. Good night, dear ones.”

  They said good night as one, but Trent stared at James instead of Kaatje.

  There was no doubt about it; the man was in deep.

  Kaatje did not rise for forty-eight hours. The girls went by her room every hour, it seemed to Tora, worrying that something was wrong.

  “Why doesn’t she get up?” Jessie asked. “She’s slept for days.”

  “She’s practically snoring, her mouth’s so dry. Don’t you think we ought to awaken her again and give her some more water?” Christina added.

  “She’s so awfully tired,” Tora answered. “She needs to let her body rest and recuperate. She’s been on a very rough trail for months. No doubt she has many adventures to tell us
about. And all that can make a person terribly weary.” She remembered her days on the streets of Seattle, when she had been without a home or a bed, always on the move, and how weary she had become. She supposed Kaatje felt just that way. “Now off to the study with you. I’m sure you both have some homework, right?”

  “Right. But, Auntie,” Jessie said. “What about Father? Do you think she found him?”

  Tora looked to the floor, then back at the girls. “I’m afraid that her return without Soren, or any word of him, must mean she did not. I’m so sorry, girls. I know you wanted to meet your father.”

  The two looked at each other and then back at Tora. “Can we go and ask her?”

  “She’ll tell us in her own time. Now off with you. Go get your studying done.”

  “Yes, but what if Mama needs—”

  “She’s fine. Really. She didn’t get all the way home to die on our doorstep. You’ll see—”

  “That’s right,” Kaatje said from the stairwell. Tora smiled at her. “I intend to stay with you all for a very long time. I’ve been in the wilderness, but I’m home now. I’m home!”

  The girls rushed up the stairs and hugged her close.

  “Now you won’t believe this after seeing me eat last night, but I’m hungry again!”

  “There’s a reason for that,” Tora answered, sitting on a stair beneath the trio. “That was two nights ago.”

  “Two nights! I’ve slept for two days?”

  “Yes ma’am. And I would wager that as soon as we feed you again, you’ll be off to bed once more. By tomorrow, you’ll be feeling like your old self again.”

  “Or somewhere near.”

  “Would you like some ham and potatoes?”

  “That would be wonderful, Tora.”

  “Let me get it ready while you girls catch up with your mother.”

  “Oh, Tora,” she called. “What day is it?”

  “Friday.”

  “And did Trent say there’s a party tomorrow, or did I dream that?”

  “There’s a party tomorrow. In your honor.”

  “And…and James? Will he be invited?”

  Tora’s smile grew broader. She knew it—Kaatje had feelings for the man. “Of course. He’s already asked to be your escort.”