Destiny - The Callahans #1 (5 page)

“Oh, yes!” Katrina exclaimed, clapping her
hands together. “Let me show you some important passages, and then
you may borrow the book for as long as you like. I can always use
my mother’s copy.”

She showed Tom two or three lightly marked
scriptures, and told him that the answers to many of his questions
would be found in those areas. Suddenly aware of their close
proximity, Katrina leaned back on her chair and swung her feet up
into the resting position, resuming her gaze out over the ocean.
They sat quietly for a few moments as Tom thumbed through the book,
stopping to read some of the marked passages.

“Katrina,” he said. “Have you always been
Mormon?”

She remained still. She had taken those
moments to consider the propriety of launching into the teaching of
religion to a stranger. She was fired by the unexpected opportunity
but was also slightly embarrassed to have revealed so much
enthusiasm. “No. My family was Lutheran, but about two years ago, a
young missionary, the Elder Stromberg I referred to, met my father
in Denmark. Later, when he came to Norway, he visited with us and
taught us the gospel. We were all baptized into the church and are
headed for Salt Lake City, which is the church’s headquarters.”

“You said this Elder Stromberg was about my
age. When you first mentioned him, I pictured someone quite a bit
older. Isn’t that a bit young to be teaching religion?”

Katrina thought for a moment, her intention
now to go more deliberately, trying to be certain of what she said.
“I don’t know, Thomas. The leaders send their young men, and also
older men, out into the world to teach others about the church God
has restored. He was very knowledgeable and most considerate of our
thoughts and questions.”

“I see,” Tom answered. “And this
religion—this Mormonism, I think you called it—is obviously
important to you.”

She sat up in her chair, turning again to
face Tom and looking earnestly into his eyes. “It has become the
most important thing in my life, Thomas.”

Tom studied her for a moment before
answering. Her cheeks were tinged with redness, the effect of the
brisk morning air and the agitation she was feeling. In her
enthusiasm for their discussion, she had cast aside the blanket she
had used to wrap her legs and her movements were very animated. Tom
was pleased to also note that she seemed to have taken to the sea
voyage with ease, unlike many of the passengers, some of whom had
begun complaining of sea sickness even before ship had cleared the
confines of Cork harbor.

“And you believe it is a true church of God,
even though it’s only just started?”

Katrina reached for the book in Tom’s hand.
“This book, Thomas, was my teacher. Elder Stromberg answered my
questions and helped with my concerns and those of my father and
mother, but as I read this book, and prayed about it as Elder
Stromberg said we should, God bore witness to me that the things
written in here are true. He can do that for you, too, Thomas.” She
nodded vigorously as she said so and then smiled triumphantly.

“But I have a religion, although, I must
admit, I haven’t attended all that much since I was a child.” He
smiled sheepishly.

“I had a religion, too, Thomas,” she said,
handing the book back to Tom and again leaning back in her chair.
“And I did attend. But when the Book of Mormon spoke to me, I just
. . . I just knew it was true. Will you read it, Thomas?” she
asked, angling her head to look into his eyes again.

“I will, indeed, Katrina. If . . .” he
paused, waiting for her attention, “you will answer those questions
I have the next time we meet.”

She smiled and started to gather up her
things. “I will do the best I can, Thomas. I’m still learning
myself, but I will try to help you if you have questions. But . .
.” she paused, “the best answers will come if you also pray about
the book as you read it.”

“Well, we shall see.” She was standing now,
and he smiled up at her. “I think I’ll just sit here for a while
and browse through it,” he said, holding up the book. “Thanks for
the loan.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” she replied. “You’re my
very first student.”

“Shall I call you teacher, then,” he
laughed.

“Not yet, but I will be someday,” she
answered, instantly serious.

“Well, I’ll read through this a bit, Katrina,
and return tomorrow to see if you have come up with the
answers.”

“Perhaps, Thomas, if you follow all my
instructions, you’ll come back to me with the answers.”

“Aye,” he said, lying back down on the
recliner as she departed.

“Oh, and Thomas,” she said as she reached the
hatchway, “I’m sure the Pope is a good man and means well. But we
do have a Prophet now, and he does speak with God.”

Tom smiled at her as she stepped through the
door.

“Keep teaching me, Katrina. I’ll listen every
day if that’s what it takes to spend time with you,” he murmured to
himself.

28 April 1895

Dear Nana,

I am so happy tonight, Nana. I had the chance to
teach the gospel today for the first time. The young Irish boy I
told you about sat and listened as I told him of the restoration of
the church. Anders told me that Poppa has offered Thomas a job in
New York to wait for our store equipment and see that it is shipped
on to Utah. Poppa was not pleased with me for teaching him the
gospel, preferring that I just give him a Book of Mormon and let
him contact the missionaries in New York after we arrive. He thinks
Thomas is coarse and common—and Catholic. Of course, you know how
Poppa is.

Thomas, oh, that is his name, Nana, was polite, but
I couldn’t tell if he was really interested in the church. He seems
a nice boy, Nana, but I wish you were here to give me advice. I
think I like him, but Poppa has cautioned me and insisted that
Anders be present when I speak to him again. Becoming a young woman
is hard, isn’t it? Was it hard when you were a young girl, too?

Jeg elske du,

Your Trina

Shortly after ten that evening, earlier than
his usual midnight appearance, Tom was once again up on deck for
his nightly stroll. Climbing to the uppermost level of the ship, he
walked alone. A cool breeze dictated that he turn his collar up and
pull his cap down over his eyes. Not ten minutes into his walk, he
heard the faint strain of a woman softly singing, almost humming,
below him, and he made his way to the railing to discover the
source of the sound.

One deck below, lying back on one of the deck
recliners, was a woman holding a young child against her breast.
The child was wrapped in a down blanket, and the woman was singing
softly to the toddler.

For nearly half an hour, Tom stood leaning on
the rail, silently listening to the singing below and enjoying the
gentle rocking of the ship as it plowed ahead through the sea.
Unheard, one of the ship’s officers came up behind him and joined
him at the railing.

“Sounds comforting, doesn’t it?” the officer
said, startling Tom.

“Aye. Reminds me of my mother,” Tom said,
taking out his pocket watch, the one family possession given to him
by his grandfather, to check the time and determine whether he was
legally on deck. Assured that he was, he smiled at the officer and
said, “But that would be the case for most of us, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s well after nine,” the officer laughed,
confirming to Tom that the officer knew it was quite legal for Tom
to be on the upper deck. The officer leaned over the railing, and
looked at the woman below. “She’ll be gone soon,” he said to Tom.
“She’s up here nearly every night, helping young Mrs. Peterson with
her young’uns.”

“It’s not her child?” Tom asked.

“Hers?” the officer smiled, glancing again
toward the lower deck where she was sitting. “No, she’s only a
young kid herself. That’s the Hansen girl. She’s been helping out
because Mrs. Peterson’s traveling alone with her children, and when
one of the kids can’t sleep, Miss Hansen there takes the child on
deck to allow Mrs. Peterson some time to catch a bit of sleep. That
is, if her other baby will allow it. I keep an eye on Miss Hansen
whenever I have the watch,” he said, offering Tom a polite warning.
“Well, have a good evening, lad,” he commented, heading for the
ladder and the lower decks.

Tom looked again at the couple below, wrapped
securely in blankets, the singing now ended as the child apparently
slept. Tom envied the child, snuggled as it was against the body of
the girl/woman he now knew to be Katrina Hansen. Tom continued his
unofficial watch until fifteen minutes later, when Katrina rose
from her deck chair and carried the child below. Tom remained on
deck, thinking about this woman whom he had mistaken for a
mother—an older woman—gently nurturing her child.

You’re nothing but a slip of a girl yourself,
Katie Hansen, but if I was to put words to it, I’d swear you’re a
natural born mother. “Will ya never stop surprising me, Katie, me
darlin’,” he voiced quietly to himself.

Three days later, with two additional
deck-chair meetings behind them, at which the Book of Mormon was
the primary subject of conversation, Tom had discovered this young
woman was headstrong and fiercely independent in most things.
That’s why he was surprised at how completely she submitted herself
to her father’s will. It made Tom wonder when, and if, she might
ever find the courage to assert herself with regard to Mr.
Hansen.

Tom’s discussions with Andy, late one evening
as Tom had gone for his nightly stroll, had enlightened him as to
the forceful nature of Lars Hansen.

“Ya, Klinka is headstrong in most things,
Tom, but she has always been an obedient child and followed our
father’s wishes,” Andy had said.

“And you?” Tom said.

Andy smiled. “I have often felt the need to
go my own way, Tom,” he laughed. Growing serious again, he
continued. “But not Klinka. I think she finds it hard sometimes,
especially as she grows older, but Father’s word is still her
rule,” he said, leaving Tom with an increased concern about his
ability to reach out to Katrina over her father’s
objections—something that was beginning to appear necessary. It was
clear from what Katrina and Anders had to say about their father
that Mr. Hansen would never approve of one of the Tom Callahan’s of
the world making a play for his daughter.

With the final day of the voyage at hand, a
dinner party for the upper-class passengers was planned for the
last night on board ship. With Tom having accepted Mr. Hansen’s
offer of temporary employment in New York, Andy said he considered
Tom a member of his father’s staff, and he took the liberty of
inviting his young Irish friend to attend the final dinner with his
family. Tom was reticent to accept, but since it would provide one
further chance to be with Katrina and because time was running out
for him, he thanked Anders and said it would be his pleasure to
dine with the family. Tom sensed he would be somewhat out of place,
but rationalized he could somehow make it through the meal and
entertainment without embarrassing himself.

When Katrina joined them on deck and Andy
advised her that Tom would be coming to dinner, her surprised look
told Tom all that he needed to know. It wasn’t that she didn’t want
him to come, he hoped, but Tom sensed that she felt he would be
uncomfortable and that his sitting down as a hired hand to eat
dinner with the family would not meet with her father’s
approval.

As evening approached, Tom grew more and more
apprehensive regarding the dinner. He met Andy in a pre-arranged
spot, and they entered the first-class dining room together. The
rest of the Hansens were already seated, and the moment Tom sat
down at the table, he knew he’d made the wrong choice and that he
should have paid more attention to Katrina’s unspoken warnings.

You were absolutely right, Katie. Maybe I’d
better pay more attention to your instincts next time, he
reflected.

The steward who served their table went
immediately two tables away to whisper to the First Officer, who
then held a prolonged stare in Tom’s direction. Mr. Hansen peered
disapprovingly over the rim of his pince-nez spectacles at Tom’s
attire. He flapped his table napkin dramatically and coughed to
register his disapproval and tucked the corner of his napkin into
his shirt collar, all the while staring down his nose at Tom. Mrs.
Hansen seemed embarrassed by the situation, and Tom hoped her
sickly smile was an attempt to ease his discomfort. Katrina avoided
eye contact while Anders, seemingly undisturbed by the drama of the
situation, reached for the rolls and butter. The two younger Hansen
girls, their heads lowered in conspiratorial adolescence, giggled
continuously at the handsome new addition to their dining
ritual.

Lars Hansen’s English wasn’t as
well-practiced as Katrina’s or Anders’s, and he spoke in the
typical sing-song rhythm of Scandinavian speech.

“Ya, Mr. Callahan, Anders say you go alone to
New York. Your Momma and Poppa go before?”

I’m a big boy now, Poppa, and I’m off on
me own
.

Tom glanced around the dining salon, aware
that the First Officer continued to occasionally look his way. “No,
sir. My family is still in Ireland.”

“Ah,” Hansen nodded, “then they come
soon?”

They’ll not be coming at’ll,
Poppa
.

“No, sir. I believe it is their intention to
remain in Ireland,” Tom continued.

Hansen’s eyebrows went up slightly, his
glance at Mrs. Hansen informing Tom that he didn’t approve of the
situation. “You go to stay alone, Mr. Callahan?”

Tom glanced quickly at Katrina, who kept her
eyes lowered.

There is one other possibility, Poppa,
so’s I wouldn’t have to go it alone
.