Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “Why, if it isn’t the great Heroine of the Horn,” Soren said, opening his arms as if to embrace her.

  “Soren,” she greeted him flatly, a bit breathless in her surprise. She made no move toward him.

  He dropped his arms. “When did you get in to Juneau?”

  “Just today.” She quickly found her lung capacity again. “The better question is, when did you? Or did your wife have to cover the entire Yukon before you came out of some cave?”

  “Elsa!” Kaatje exclaimed. “Please.”

  “Please what?” Elsa asked her, her face a mask of confusion—combining all the fury and fear that Tora had experienced these last weeks. “Please welcome the man who abandoned you? Oh, Kaatje! I knew you were looking for him, but frankly, I hoped you would find…forgive me.” She turned toward the kitchen door as if to flee. “I cannot be trusted not to say too much.” And with that, she left.

  “Excuse me,” Tora said, wanting out as much as her sister. But Soren stopped her with a gentle hand.

  “Are you never going to give me a chance either?” Soren asked.

  “Let go of me, Soren.”

  He dropped his hand obediently and raised it as if to show he had meant no harm.

  Tora sighed. “I cannot speak for the future, Soren. I can only speak for today.” She shot a look at Kaatje, begging her forgiveness for what she had to say. “And today, I cannot give you another chance. I fear that you are not as changed as you claim, and I fear for Kaatje.” Then she passed through the doors and walked across the restaurant floor to Trent and the others, forcing a smile.

  As if sensing her mood, Trent raised one arm beckoning her, and she gratefully sank against his side. His touch felt warm and protective. And after Karl and Tora briefly greeted each other, he went on chatting with Karl about the trip.

  “You look wonderful,” Karl said gently to Tora. “It must be your upcoming nuptials.”

  “Thank you, Karl. And you look wonderful too. Could it be that there’s love in your life as well?” Trent nudged her, and Elsa narrowed a look in her direction.

  “It could be,” Karl said, slanting a glance at Elsa.

  Elsa smiled uneasily, clearly uncomfortable, and then leaned toward Tora. “Come. I must know about Soren. Excuse us,” she said to the men. The children had evidently gone off to play outside on the swing and seesaw Trent had constructed for them last month.

  “Tell me,” Elsa said, sitting down at a table for two by the window.

  “He showed up last month,” Tora said. “And I’ve been wrestling with it the whole time. Kaatje is too. Think of it! She journeyed the whole trip along that river—was gone for four and a half months! And no sight of him. She came home ready to have the circuit judge declare him dead.”

  “Truthfully?” Elsa asked in wonder, obviously not doubting Tora’s word, simply trying to digest all of it.

  “Truthfully. Worse, she was falling in love with her guide, James Walker.”

  “What?” Elsa gasped, her eyes widening. Her hand went to her mouth, and then she looked as if she were ready to cry. “Oh, how can it be? Finally Kaatje finds someone worthy of her…and then he decides to show up!”

  Tora nodded.

  “Where is the other man? James.”

  “Walker. James Walker. Oh, Elsa, he’s wonderful. Everything Kaatje deserves. And so wounded. He walks about town looking like a beaten dog.”

  “And unable to do anything because Kaatje’s husband is here.”

  “And Soren’s been trying to win her back.”

  “Why? Why now? There has to be a reason. After all this time.”

  “I think Kaatje wonders too. Trent and I do. In fact, Trent has hired his private investigator, Joseph Campbell, to come out and check on Soren’s story. We want Kaatje to know everything she can before she makes the decision to reunite with him. I hope we get word from Joseph soon. Kaatje is warming up to Soren. I can see it.”

  “What was his excuse for being gone so long without a word?”

  “He says he thought she would have had him proclaimed dead a long time ago. That she would’ve moved on. When she came along the river leaving word everywhere about the man she sought, he claims he came right away.”

  Kaatje came through the door alone. Elsa chanced one more question. “How did he split his lip?”

  “James helped him with that one,” Tora whispered.

  “Are you two talking wedding plans without me?” Kaatje asked, a thin smile upon her lips.

  “No. But we should be,” Elsa said. “Come on, you two. The dress is in the coach. Let’s go and fetch it!”

  Two weeks later Elsa helped Tora into that same dress. Her younger sister was so nervous she was shaking. Elsa laughed. “I do not think I’ve ever seen you tremble, Tora Anders!”

  “If there’s any day that’s appropriate, it would be a girl’s wedding day,” Kaatje said in defense, pushing Tora down into a chair and stroking her long, dark hair that reached her tiny waist. It was the color of the sea at night, Elsa mused. So striking, around her dark blue eyes. That blue was the only thing she and her sister shared, or at least that’s what she used to believe. Now she knew that Tora was as fiercely loyal and devoted to her Lord as she, and it gave them a bond they’d never had before.

  Elsa turned toward the bed and gestured toward the box. Jessie turned, retrieved it, and passed it along to her, a question in her eyes. Elsa pulled her head back, inviting them to watch.

  “Tora, Mother sent something else for you for this day.”

  Tora looked up at her, and Elsa was surprised by the tears in her sister’s eyes. How much she had changed! She had been utterly transformed! Elsa thought back to her own wedding in Bergen when she had worn the same dress. There were signs of generosity and true spirit in her sister then—she had hiked high into the hills around Bergen to find Elsa’s favorite flowers for the church—but she had been largely self-indulgent and spoiled. Greedy. But there was none of that in her eyes now. It made Elsa choke up.

  She knelt by Tora and watched as her sister opened the box. Inside, under the tissue, was a headdress made by hand, with elaborate needlework over the crown. “She made it just for you, Tora. There was the family headdress, but she wanted to send something that would convey to you all the love she has in her heart. She worked for months on this.”

  Tora’s eyes overflowed, and she quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, apparently afraid that they would fall upon the incredible headdress.

  “I told her, Tora,” Elsa said, taking her sister’s hand. “I told her that you were more than beautiful now, that you were…skjønn. That you were lovely from the inside out and that the Spirit of our Lord shines through you.”

  “Not always,” Tora said, looking away.

  “That’s the thing,” Kaatje said. “We don’t always acknowledge him, but he’s always there, shining whether we realize it or not.”

  “You seem shiny today, Auntie Tora,” Jessica said, taking her hand. “Why are you sad?”

  Tora laughed under her breath and wiped her eyes once more. “I am not sad, Jess. This day is the happiest in my life. I have all of you around me, and today, finally, Trent will make me his bride.”

  “You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen,” Christina said.

  “Just wait,” Elsa said, rising. Kaatje finished Tora’s hair, brought up in thick coils to a high crown, on top of which Elsa pinned the headdress. The threads from the fine needlework glinted in the lamplight. The girls said “ooh” together, and Kaatje sighed in appreciation as Tora stood. She turned toward the mirror. “Oh, Mama,” she whispered. And then she turned to embrace Elsa.

  “Come, it is time,” Elsa said, taking her hand.

  “Wait!” Tora turned to dab some color on her lips and pinch her cheeks. The girls giggled together as the music downstairs began to play. As Americans, and marrying an American, Tora had taken some of the new traditions. White fabric had been draped down the center of the nearly one hundr
ed chairs, creating a luminous path side lit by dozens of candles. Tora would come forward to the minister, and Trent would be standing at the front of the restaurant before a cascade of fall flower arrangements in hues of yellow, orange, and red.

  “Ready?” Elsa asked her, feeling a true bond with her sister, and a twinge of envy. “You look perfect.”

  “Thank you.” She took Elsa’s arm, her head only reaching her older sister’s shoulder.

  “I am sorry Father couldn’t be here to do this American escort thing.”

  “Never mind. I’m glad it’s you anyway. I couldn’t tell Father that my stomach is threatening to leave without me. He would’ve never understood.”

  “Father was tough, but more loving than you ever gave him credit for being.”

  “We never…understood each other.”

  “It was a pity.” They walked to the top of the stairs, and they could hear the crowd’s whispering and the music jumping into sharp clarity. Jessie and Christina, at Elsa’s cue, began their walk down the stairs, distributing flower petals as they went.

  “He always favored you,” Tora whispered, a tender note of jealousy in her voice.

  “But it was you he always wanted close to him.”

  “No.” They took the first steps behind the girls.

  “Yes. That is why he didn’t want you to come to America with us.”

  “No. It was because he was afraid I’d be a burden. Which I was—”

  “No, Tora. He didn’t want you to go because you were his baby. And he hadn’t had the time to show you how much he loved you. How much you two had in common.”

  “Really?” Tora asked at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Really.” She smiled back at her sister and squeezed her hand. At least, that’s what she hoped Amund Anders had felt. Amund had never been one to talk of anything personal unless pushed, and yet he had been the one to tell her of the northern lights and how they danced as David had danced in the streets of Jerusalem. How they whispered that God was near. Her father would’ve liked Alaska and her frequent view of the aurora borealis.

  “I do not believe it,” Tora whispered, as a new song entered the air around them, signaling Tora’s turn to walk the aisle. She let out a delighted laugh.

  “What?”

  “You found a way to get Trent into a bunad.”

  Karl observed Tora across the other attendants, even held his breath for a second at the sight of her as she walked up the aisle, but found himself slightly irritated that she partially blocked his view of Elsa. Only the sight of the traditional Norwegian wedding dress brought him up short. The last time he remembered seeing the costume was on Elsa, the day she married Peder. The thought sobered him.

  He concentrated on Bradford Bresley’s shoulder instead of Tora’s bridesmaid. As Americans, they had each asked two people to stand beside them this day; Tora had Kaatje and Elsa beside her, and Trent had Bradford and Karl. Bradford, Virginia, his wife, and their toddler had sailed up the Inside Passage the day before from the Storm Roadhouse in Ketchikan in order to take part in the festivities. Karl was almost as eager to catch up with them as he was to dance with Elsa that evening. Duties aboard the Majestic had kept them from each other the evening prior, and already he was missing her company.

  The ceremony was soon over, and the hundred guests cheered as Trent finally got to kiss his bride. In his delight at the moment, Trent tenderly picked Tora up in his arms and swung her around, kissed her again as the people applauded, and then gently set her down. He gestured for silence. “A lot of you know that I’ve waited years to marry this woman, and today I have finally done it. In honor of the happiness I have in my heart, we’ve arranged a celebration that shows just how happy I am. Please join us in the tent behind the restaurant for a feast and dance before I steal my bride away for the night.”

  Karl smiled more broadly as Trent’s neck colored a bit. Rarely had he seen the man blush. Happily, Karl waited to escort Elsa back down the aisle, following the bridal couple and Kaatje and Bradford. Perhaps one day he would be able to take Elsa down the aisle himself. He shook his head. He was getting way ahead of himself. Only the sight of Soren, sitting in the crowd, put a damper on his mood.

  He hadn’t had a chance to speak to the man alone yet. But he was dying to do so. His hands opened and clenched at the thought of it. How could the man have abandoned Kaatje, then shown up after all these years? If he was going to pretend he was dead, he should have had the decency to stay dead! Elsa pulled him forward as he paused and stared for a tiny moment, wanting to call Soren out. She seemed to sense what he was feeling and whispered in his ear, “This is Trent and Tora’s day. Let us not do anything that might ruin it.”

  He nodded once. “I will be able to concentrate on them and their pleasure if you stay by my side.”

  She smiled and looked at the floor. “All right,” she agreed quietly.

  He escorted her around the roadhouse, gazing up at dark storm clouds that threatened the day with a fall shower. “It could even hail.”

  “Shush. Don’t let it hear you. This tent can tolerate some rain, but not much else.”

  He tucked her hand more firmly in the crook of his arm as he caught sight of Soren ahead, at the opening of the tent. Somehow he had beaten them. The man actually had the audacity to reach out a hand as if to shake his, and Karl looked at him in disbelief. He pulled Elsa to a stop and shook his finger at Soren. “Watch yourself, man. Watch yourself very closely. Kaatje has many friends now. Many friends who do not appreciate the fact that you abandoned your wife.”

  Soren picked up his chin, and his smile disappeared. “Whatever the case may be, she is still my wife.”

  “Lus” Karl growled under his breath, as Elsa urged him forward. “We’ll speak again. In private.” How he longed to punch the louse in the mouth! He was no better than the bedbugs that plagued sailors on ships.

  “I shall look forward to it!” Soren called, lifting a hand and smiling as if Karl had just invited him to his ship for supper. Just then, Kaatje reached him and accepted his hand. The sight of it grated on Karl’s nerves.

  “It is her business, Karl,” Elsa said firmly. “Her business. Whatever she decides, we need to support her.”

  “Maybe several of us men should help make her decision easier. Make him disappear again. Forever.”

  “Karl Martensen!”

  “I am only joking. That man gets under my skin like no other.”

  “He’s a tick all right,” she said. “Come.” She walked backward, leading him forward with both hands. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She gestured all about them, and Karl finally looked around, casting out Soren’s image.

  “It is,” he said, shaking his head. Trent had spared no expense. The entire tent was made up of intimate, round tables set for four, with thousands of candles and greenery with small white flowers that proved to be jasmine. No doubt Trent had ordered it carefully packed and shipped to Alaska directly from Hawaii. Their fragrance filled the air, even if they were a bit wilted. In all four corners, wood stoves were blazing and pumping heat into the outdoor ballroom. A small orchestra was playing on one side, mostly soft chamber music as the guests milled about finding their seats.

  The china was Limoges, the crystal Baccarat. There were sterling silver place settings at each of the hundred seats. “Trent’s wedding gift to Tora,” Elsa whispered, waving over it all. Karl whistled lowly. “Just one of them. He is taking her to Hawaii and then Japan for an extended honeymoon.”

  “After all these years, they deserve it.”

  “Amen,” Elsa said.

  Where would he take Elsa on a honeymoon? Karl thought. She had seen much of the world as a captain, but he didn’t think she had been to Egypt. Perhaps Cairo, and then a cruise down the Nile. There were archaeologists there, rumored to have found a valley full of ancient cities and artifacts. Luxor on the Nile, they were calling it. Yes, it would take something like that to be worthy of her… Quit, Karl, he told himself. Q
uit it. Your relationship has yet to begin, and you are already planning a honeymoon? He laughed aloud.

  “What?” Elsa asked, her lips spreading over perfect, white teeth.

  “Nothing,” he evaded.

  “Tell me,” she demanded lowly, leaning closer to him. Bradford saved him. Almost. He interrupted them by saying, “You had better not let Mara Kenney see you two like that.”

  Elsa looked at Bradford in surprise and then at Karl in confusion. “I’ve ended things with Miss Kenney, Bradford.” “I see,” Bradford said, smiling at Elsa.

  Tora came then and whispered in her ear. Elsa immediately rose to go. “I had better see to the bride. See you soon,” she said softly to Karl.

  Bradford and Virginia nodded, looking at Karl meaningfully as Elsa walked away.

  Karl sighed. “I suppose you two want to know what has transpired between me and Elsa.”

  Karl did not catch up with her until much later that evening. Kristian had taken her seat, apparently at her behest. Elsa lingered at her dinner table, talking intently with her companions, and then was passed from one dance partner to another before he could make his way across the crowded room to her. Their eyes met occasionally, and she looked as if she were missing him too. His frustration just made his anger toward Soren all the more intense, and he purposefully avoided the man all night.

  Finally Elsa paused at the opening of the tent, watching as the last of the rainstorm ended. He neared her. “At last a moment alone,” he whispered in her ear.

  “It’s been torturous, don’t you agree?” Another man came to offer his arm for a dance, but she graciously declined.

  Karl looked about them, noted they were being observed, and urged her out into the waning rain. “Come before ten others try and steal you away from me!” She shrieked as they splashed through mud puddles and her gown got soiled. But he didn’t care. Fortunately, she was laughing by the time they got to the house.