[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (39 page)

Phoebe thought of her husband. “When my friends and I used to talk about the man we wanted to marry, I would often say that I wanted an adventurous man who was handsome and who would love me madly.” She smoothed down her sleeves and shrugged. “And that is exactly what I got.”

“I expect to have you visit—at least once every other year. Especially when my grandchildren begin to arrive.”

The thought of having children without her mother close by only added to Phoebe’s sorrow, but she said nothing. Instead, she nodded. “You can count on it, Mother. You can count on it. But you must also visit us here, if the trip is not too hard on you.”

Her mother laughed. “I’m not so old as that. Once I have Theodore and Grady settled down, who knows? I might very well want to return to Sitka.”

“I hope so. I hope you will at least come for visits. I will miss you so much.” She embraced her mother and held her tight.

“We will always be close, child. No matter the miles that separate us. We will always be close.”

Phoebe lost herself in the haunting strains of the Adagio from Alessandro Marcello’s Concerto in D Minor. The piece was designed to feature the oboe, but since Sitka’s little orchestra didn’t have one, Lydia had managed to adapt it for the flute. Against the delicate harmony of the strings, Phoebe’s flute sounded almost magical.

The music brought tears to her eyes as she thought of her mother and brothers going away. It would be hard to see them go. When she’d told Dalton of the news, his gentleness had caused her to fall apart. She’d cried in his arms, and he hadn’t even tried to hush her. He seemed to understand that she needed to let out her tears—to mourn the loss even though it had not yet come.

Her mother had once said that finding that special person with whom to share your life—that soul mate who would understand your heart’s joys as well as sorrows—was the finest blessing one could hope for. Phoebe had found that in Dalton.

As the final notes faded, those who’d gathered for Joshua Broad–street’s surprise party clapped with great enthusiasm. The cheers left Phoebe little doubt that their audience was well pleased.

Slipping into the sewing room, Phoebe cleaned her flute and put it away with the gentleness of a mother for her babe. She found such fulfillment in her music and thanked God silently for having brought her to this place where she could continue to play and enjoy the talent He had given her.

“That was incredible, Phoebe,” Dalton said, joining her. He drew her into his arms and whirled her around. “I’ve never heard anything quite like it. Mother said it was special, and though I heard you practicing the piece, I was still unprepared.”

She smiled up at him. “I found that I was unprepared for most everything about Alaska . . . including you. I thought I was coming to a vast wilderness where I would be set adrift in loneliness and longing. Instead, I have found more fulfillment than I could have imagined.”

He kissed her gently. “I feel the same,” he whispered against her lips.

Phoebe wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. “I love you. You are such a part of me that I feel I have loved you forever.”

He pulled back and smiled. “It’s as if you look into my heart and speak the words you find there.”

Reaching up, she gently touched his face and nodded. “Only because they are my own, as well.” She placed her head against his chest. The rhythmic beat of Dalton’s heart brought to mind the pulsating strains of the Adagio. Such sweetness.

“Come on, lazy bones,” Dalton said, giving Phoebe’s backside a swat. “You’ll miss it.”

Yawning, she sat up in bed. Her golden hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. By the time they’d returned home from Joshua’s party, Phoebe had been too tired to do anything but take out her hairpins.

“Hurry, Phoebe,” Dalton urged in a whisper.

She forced her feet to touch the floor and rose from the bed as if being led to her execution. Pulling on her robe and slippers, she padded after her husband to the French doors at the end of their bedroom. Dalton had already gone outside onto the small balcony. He held his finger to his lips and motioned her to follow.

Suppressing another yawn, Phoebe stepped into the chilled morning air. The sun had risen just enough to cast light down on the harbor. Below, a family of seals frolicked and played. Phoebe couldn’t help but smile.

“I told you we would get some amazing sights from this balcony,” he whispered.

“They’re wonderful.” She wanted to laugh aloud as one seal seemed to be playing tag with another. It reminded her of puppies at play.

Dalton wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Phoebe stood there embraced in his warmth as the barely audible notes of morning’s refrain drifted down over the valley as the island awoke to a new day. She had found much to love in Sitka. Here, she had come to realize the passion and heart of God for His people. Here, she had come to know the desire and tenderness of a husband for his wife. And here, the music within her heart took flight. It was all that she could have hoped for. It was home.

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