Leah nodded and slipped the necklace beneath her blouse. Giving no further thought to telling Karen about Jacob, she curled up on the bed and cried softly into the pillow. She thought for a moment of a verse her mother had once read to her about how God collected your tears in a bottle and saved them. He’s sure going to have a lot of bottles from me, she thought as sleep overcame her.
—[CHAPTER TEN]—
WHEN KAREN AWOKE the next morning, she found Leah sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room. The child, rapidly turning into a beautiful young woman, had been crying. It broke Karen’s heart to see the girl so grieved. Karen saw herself in Leah, recognizing the raw misery and open wounds of her father’s death. She longed to say something comforting, but words eluded her. How could she comfort Leah when Karen could find no comfort for herself?
Yawning, Karen stretched, then pushed back the covers. The room felt like ice. She was surprised that Jacob hadn’t started a fire in the small stove. Pushing back long strawberry-blond waves of hair, she looked to Leah.
“Where’s Jacob? Why didn’t he get a fire going?”
“He’s gone.” Leah’s flat words registered no emotion.
Karen got up and pulled on her warm robe. “It’s not like him to go off to work and leave the stove cold.”
“He didn’t go to work. Like I said, he’s gone.”
Karen looked down at Leah. “Gone? You mean gone from Dyea?”
Leah looked up mournfully. “He left last night.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Why didn’t you wake me up so I could stop him?”
Leah picked up her skirts and stood. “You couldn’t have stopped him. He didn’t want to be stopped. I tried.”
“You should have at least told me about this last night. I could have sent for Adrik to stop him.”
Leah looked almost accusingly at Karen as if she were responsible for Jacob’s disappearance. “You didn’t want to hear about anything else that was bad. Remember?”
Karen could hardly comprehend Leah’s words. Jacob was just a boy. Where had he gone? And for what reason? She tried to remain as calm as possible. After all, the boy had probably just taken off to mourn. Maybe even find out where they’d taken his father’s body.
“I’m sure he won’t be gone for long. It’s still winter out there and too cold for pretty much anyone, let alone an unseasoned child.” Karen picked up several pieces of wood and put them into the stove atop the cold, lifeless ashes.
“He’s not coming back.”
Karen straightened at this and looked at Leah. “Of course he will. You’re here.”
Leah shook her head. “He said he’d send for me.”
“Send for you from where?”
“From the goldfields. From Dawson City.”
A tremor ran through Karen. It started somewhere in her heart and radiated out from there until her entire body felt like it was shaking. “He wouldn’t really have gone—would he?” She darted to the window and pulled back the drapes. The frost kept her from seeing beyond the room. She turned back to Leah. “He wouldn’t just go like that, leaving you here. Not when he knew what it felt like to be left behind.”
Leah nodded, and her tears began to fall. “He said he had to know if that dead man was our pa. If it was Pa, then Jacob wants to take up his dream. Either way, he’s gone.”
Karen paced the small room for several moments. The floorboards creaked in protest as she picked up her steps. She forgot about the fire and finally plopped down on the corner of the unmade bed. Angry, she reached out and threw one of the pillows. “That’s just great. Things just seem to go from bad to worse.”
Leah went to where Karen sat and took hold of her hand. “I know things have been hard, Karen. I’ve been praying for you. For us. My ma used to say that it seemed like it didn’t rain but it poured. I guess that’s the way it’s been with us.”
Karen softened as she met the child’s red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting.” She reached out and pulled Leah into her embrace. “I’m so sorry, Leah. I know you’re feeling bad and that I’m not helping it.”
“You can’t help it.”
The truth of Leah’s words seemed to hold a double meaning. There was nothing Karen could do to change the events of their lives, and she seemed powerless to even say the right thing—to point Leah back to her faith and hope in God—to bring herself along as well.
“I’m sorry,” Karen murmured. “Sometimes I just feel like . . . well . . .” She wanted to say that she felt deserted by God. That He no longer cared. She wanted to say that her anger was making her forget her upbringing. Then a picture came to mind—the angry face of Peter Colton. She had stirred his anger. She had caused his rage by promoting her own hatred of Martin Paxton. She saw herself in that angry face, knowing the only difference between her and Peter was that he would actually pull the trigger and kill Paxton. Karen could only dream of his reckoning.
“I know I should have told you last night,” Leah said softly. “I shouldn’t have just let you go to bed without knowing about Jacob. I’m sorry.”
Karen shook her head. “Don’t be. I deserved it. I pushed you away, along with everyone and everything else.”
“Even God?”
Leah’s softly spoken question seemed to rip apart Karen’s stoic facade. “Yes. I suppose I must confess that, as well.” She tried to smile at Leah, hoping the action would reassure her without words. It didn’t.
“It’s easy to trust God when things are going well,” Karen began. “There’s no real effort in that. But when things go wrong and then keep going wrong until you feel like nothing good is ever going to happen again . . . well, then it gets harder.”
“It has to get better.” It was Leah who offered the encouragement.
Karen nodded. “I want to believe that, but right now I feel as though my life is as cold and lifeless as those ashes in the stove. Nothing makes sense anymore. Everyone has either died or gone away.”
“Everyone, ’cept you and me.” Leah paused and put her hand atop Karen’s. “I need you, Karen.”
Karen saw the fear and questioning in Leah’s eyes. She reached up and touched Leah’s tear-stained face. “I need you, too. I know exactly what it is to lose the people you love. It makes you feel all alone—like nobody in the world even knows you’re alive.”
Leah nodded. “Like God’s too busy.”
Karen knew God was working on her spirit through the words of her young friend. She hated feeling the way she did, all bottled up and walled in, while at the same time so very resentful. “God’s never too busy,” she finally responded. She knew the words were true, and by speaking them she thought maybe she’d broken a little chink of the mortar in her walls.
Smiling, she took Leah’s face in both hands. “Leah, I won’t leave you. You needn’t fear that. I made your father a promise to look after you, and I will do just that. This country is no place to be alone.”
“Jacob’s alone,” Leah whispered.
“For now,” Karen agreed. “But once we talk to Mr. Ivankov, I know Jacob won’t be alone any longer. Adrik will go after him. You’ll see.” She tried again to smile for Leah’s sake, but a weariness settled upon her. What were they going to do after they found Jacob? Should they board the next ship south? Should they return to Seattle and take up a home near Karen’s sister? There were just too many questions and not enough answers.
“We should pray for Jacob,” Leah said.
God still seemed so distant. So very far away. Could she possibly find her way back to His comfort? She knew He forgave sin—welcomed back prodigals. The only real question was how could she go back to God and carry with her the hatred she felt for Martin Paxton?
She looked to Leah’s wide-eyed expression. The child had lost so much, but her face looked ever hopeful as she spoke of prayer. Karen nodded, knowing that she would never be able to lead such a prayer.
Leah seemed to understand Karen’s reluctance. She took hold of K
aren’s hands. “Don’t worry, Karen. I can pray for both of us.”
“What do you mean you knew he was heading north? Why didn’t you come to tell me?” Karen questioned in disbelief. “I thought you were my friend.”
Adrik looked apologetic, but it wasn’t an apology that came out of his mouth. “Look, I figure sometimes a man has to do what he feels he must.”
“For a man that might well be expected, but we’re talking about a fifteen-year-old boy.”
“Fifteen is hardly a boy in these parts. There’s more than a few fellows Jacob’s age who are here on their own. They’re out working to make their keep, to see themselves north in search of gold.”
“I don’t care about the gold, I care about Jacob. Adrik, it was very irresponsible of you to let him just head off like that. You should have at least convinced him to come back to the Gold Nugget and talk this through with me.”
Adrik shook his head. “If you’ll recall, I’m not responsible for Jacob. Bill Barringer gave that job to you, but even so, I did talk to him and I tried to encourage him to stay. He was bent on knowing the truth about his father. I remember someone else who was just as eager to know her father’s whereabouts. Jacob wants to keep his father alive, and if not his father, then his father’s dream. Before the fire left you so bitter, I’d heard similar things from you.”
Karen hadn’t expected Adrik to call attention to her bitter heart. It stung to hear the words, and she thought momentarily of some sort of defense. But there was none. She was bitter and angry, and those two qualities were slowly draining her of her strength.
Karen got up from the overturned crate Adrik had offered her as a seat. In his overwhelming presence, the tent seemed to have shrunk since she’d shared it with Leah and Jacob. “I suppose I should just go. I thought you might understand.”
“I do understand,” he said softly, the tone of his voice sending a small shiver through her. “I understand better than you give me credit for.”
She turned her eyes upward and studied the ruggedly handsome face. The nose was a little too large, the mustache too thick. The jaw was too square and the eyes too . . . She lost herself for a moment. There was nothing wrong with Adrik’s looks. He was perfect. Her feelings startled her back into reality.
Taking a deep breath, Karen barely managed to speak. “If you understand, then why . . . why won’t you help me get Jacob back?”
“Karen, the boy will most likely come back on his own. And even if he doesn’t, do you really want me to go out there and haul him back, only to have him run off again? And he will. He won’t stand by and let some woman who’s not even kin tell him what he can and can’t do regarding his father. Do you honestly want that ugliness between the two of you?”
“But I can’t just stand by and do nothing,” Karen protested. “There’s Leah to consider. Not to mention that there’s hardly any reason to stay here. Everything has changed now. Nothing’s the same. I came here with one thought—one hope and dream, and that’s gone now. I have no reason to stay, but without Jacob I can hardly leave.”
Adrik didn’t reply but moved with a quickness that took Karen’s breath as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Too stunned to even react for a moment, Karen relished the ticklish way his mustache moved against her face. She felt a warmth spread to her cheeks as she allowed herself to realize what was really taking place.
He ended the kiss as quickly as he’d begun it, but still he held her tightly. “I can give you a reason to stay, if you want to hear it.”
Karen tried not to show her surprise, but in all honesty her feelings were so confusing that she feared what she might do or say. Pushing away, she shook her head. “You had no right to do that.” She broke his hold but knew that had he any intentions of forcing her to remain in his embrace, he would have little difficulty in keeping her there.
“I apologize,” he said. Then grinning, he added, “Not for kissing you, but for not asking first.”
The boyish amusement in his expression irritated Karen and pressed her into action. “That was uncalled-for, Mr. Ivankov. I came here to discuss Jacob, not issues between us.”
“I think the issues between us need to be discussed,” Adrik replied. “Seems to me you’re wrestling with an awful lot these days. You worry about the future, but it’s the present that’s killing you.”
“You’re wrong,” Karen said, shaking so much from the encounter that she was certain he could see her tremble. “I’m merely trying to keep things under control. I can understand that you would be less than supportive of seeing Martin Paxton pay for his deeds. After all, you don’t really know him and what he’s capable of. But I felt certain you would care enough about Jacob to help me keep him from further harm.”
“I do care, Karen. I care about a great many things, including you.”
“I don’t want to hear that. I haven’t any interest in hearing it. I need to think of Jacob and Leah. I need to figure out what’s best for their future, as well as my own.”
“What’s best for your future is exactly what you’re running from,” Adrik said matter-of-factly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Adrik refused to back down. “You know what it means.”
Karen fought the attraction she had for Adrik and instead put her hands on her hips and shook her head very slowly. “No . . . I don’t think I do.”
“Have it your way,” Adrik said with a shrug. “I’m not going to play games with you. I haven’t got the time for it. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll go look for Jacob. But I’m not going to force him to come back.”
Confused by her emotions and Adrik’s unwillingness to continue their conversation, Karen picked up her gloves and hat. “Don’t bother. I’ll go for him myself before I ask you to do me any favors.”
She headed for the Gold Nugget awash in a sensation of defeat and discouragement. What was she supposed to do now? She could hardly pack up Leah and head north, yet she couldn’t leave Jacob to fend for himself.
“Why are you doing this to me?” She gazed upward to the snow-covered mountains as if she might very well see God seated on a throne atop the crest. The swirling snow arched upward against a sky so blue it almost hurt her eyes to look upon it.
“Winter’s not long for us now,” an old man commented as he passed by her, dragging a sled full of gear. “The thaw will be here afore ya know it.”
She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I’ll be glad for it.”
The man smiled, revealing a mouth full of decaying teeth. “The thaw will melt the ice and snow. Everyone will be glad for it.”
He went on his way, and Karen watched after him. His sled made two deep indentations in the icy mud as he pulled the heavy load forward. Karen thought on his words, knowing them to be true. How many times had she heard someone praying for an early spring—an end to the relentless darkness, warming winds to melt the ice?
“I’m glad you didn’t get too far.”
Karen whirled around to find Adrik holding up her handbag. “You left this in my tent. I thought you might need it.”
Her temper had cooled and she nodded. “Thank you. It was kind of you to bring it to me.”
“Look,” Adrik began hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’ve been so short with you—with everyone,” Karen said, sighing heavily. “I just have no answers. I’m tired. And it seems that everyone wants to hurt me. Even God seems to be taking part.”
Adrik smiled. “Well, I for one have no desire to hurt you. Facts being what they are, I have something much more pleasurable in mind.”
Karen’s cheeks grew hot, and she quickly lowered her gaze to the ground. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Be that as it may,” Karen said, trying to maintain her control, “I don’t think it very appropriate. I have more than enough to concern myself with, an
d pleasure isn’t on the agenda.”
“First you complain because there’s nothing but misery in your life, but when someone offers you something else, you refuse it.” Karen looked up, noting his amused expression. “I think you need to decide exactly what it is you want out of life, and go after it.” He smiled in his good-natured way and tipped his hat. “When you figure it all out, let me know. Especially if there’s a spot for me.”
—[CHAPTER ELEVEN]—
GRACE SAT BESIDE the cabin window. She had returned to Summer Song to nurse her bruised feelings. Her heart was nearly broken by memories of Peter’s rage and Karen’s desire for revenge. Her dear friend had changed so much. How could she even be the same gentle woman who had so often admonished Grace to let bygones be bygones?
“I’m sure Peter will turn up soon,” Amelia Colton said in motherly assurance. “He’s never been one to admit to being wrong.” The three Colton women had gathered in the small living space to still one another’s worries.
“You don’t have to take my side,” Grace said softly. “You are his mother. I don’t expect you to choose between us.”
“But there is no us,” Amelia stated. Miranda looked up from her knitting and nodded.
“The two shall be one,” Peter’s sister murmured.
“That’s right. It’s what I’ve often counseled Miranda about. That’s why it is so difficult to be married to one who has no interest in what’s most precious to you. What possible hope can you have of peace in such a household?”
Grace knew only too well of what Amelia Colton spoke. “We are, as the Bible says, unequally yoked. Like light and darkness. I have chosen to walk God’s narrow path, and Peter, well, he’s a good man, but being good doesn’t save you for eternity.”
Amelia nodded. “I blame myself, Grace. Ephraim and I . . . well . . . we got away from fellowship and worship. We got busy with life, and so often Sundays were the best days to take care of other needs. I spent many a Sunday, along with my children, on board one ship or another cleaning and scrubbing.”
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