Northern Lights Trilogy (140 page)

“We’ll come up with other ways to keep your mind, and your girls, occupied.”

“Good. Anything.” They reached the top of the gangplank. “Point me toward my room, will you?”

After directing Kaatje to her quarters, Elsa watched her go and prayed for the hundredth time that James would find health, and Kaatje, happiness.

Her own happy husband-to-be gathered her in his arms. “Alone, at last.”

A giggle behind them told them they were not, and Karl immediately dropped his warm arms. She felt a jolt of sorrow at his absence. “Girls, why don’t you go and find your rooms?” she told Christina and Jessica. “Try 103, right by your mother’s room. Mrs. Hodge already took Eve to our quarters.”

“Next to the captain’s quarters,” Christina said slyly.

“Are you two ever going to get married?” Jessica asked innocently.

“As fast as we can,” Karl said, taking Elsa’s hand.

“As soon as we get James back to health,” Elsa added.

They nodded as one and then disappeared behind the door Kaatje had gone through earlier.

“We have to wait on James, eh?” Karl asked, pulling her toward him for a warm hug. He kissed her hair and then moved back, obviously not wishing to be caught again. It was unseemly. But so unavoidable…

She took his other hand and looked him in the eye. “I need to wait. I want everything to feel right. You understand? And right now, all is not well. Let us get James to some decent medical care, Kaatje and the girls settled. When we’re sure of that, then we’ll marry. In Seattle, if necessary.”

“What about Tora?”

Elsa smiled. “She gave me specific instructions to marry you just as soon as I could. To not wait as she waited on me. I think her honeymoon gave her … new perspective. Would you mind? Marrying me alone? Perhaps with just the children?”

“Not at all.” He stepped closer and caressed her face. “I want to marry you anytime, anywhere, Elsa. As soon as possible. I only want you to be satisfied. So tell me when all is right, will you?”

“The second it is.”

K
aatje paced the floor, wringing her hands as she awaited the surgeon’s arrival.

“It will be all right,” Elsa said for the hundredth time, almost as if to reassure herself.

“I know,” Kaatje returned in a monotone. Inside, she could see the surgeon emerging from behind the heavy wooden door, telling her that James had died in surgery.

Prior to the operation, he had informed them all, in very grave terms, that it was dangerous, a risky operation. It was James who ultimately decided to take the risk, as it had to be James. It was worth it, he told her in a whisper, to have the chance at someday standing by her side. “As your man,” he said, staring into her eyes.

“Do you not realize,” she had urgently whispered back, “that you are my man already? That there is no one else who could ever replace you? You don’t have to do this, James, to be with me.”

“I have to do this,” he had said, “for me first. And for you. And for the children.”

So it was with tears in her eyes that the nurses herded her out the night before in order that “Mr. Walker can get his rest.” She had not even been allowed to see him that morning before surgery. Elsa had
said that they expected to start about noon. It was five now. How long could they keep his back open? A gaping wound? There was gangrene to worry about and…

Be still.

That’s right
, Kaatje thought. They were in a nice clean hospital where they did this kind of thing all the time, not on a field of battle. But what if they didn’t get the bullet out? What if James was permanently injured? If they could not heal his body, she wondered if his spirit—

Be still.

All right, Lord
, she prayed silently, leaning her head against the cool tile of the hallway wall.
I’m here, Father. And you hear my cry. I know you do. I’m begging you to bring James back to me, in a wheelchair or not. Just let him live, Lord. Let him be with me.

Suddenly after losing Soren once and for all, the thought of losing James seemed unbearable. What if he had died that day? Without Kaatje ever having the chance to say good-bye? The thought brought her to her knees, literally, and she sobbed into her hands.

Karl and Elsa were immediately by her side, lifting her to her feet, guiding her to one of the few hard wooden chairs that lined the hallway. “I…I’m sorry,” she said through her tears. “It is all…so much.”

Karl left to get Kaatje some coffee while Elsa hugged her tight. “It will be all right, Kaatje. These doctors are good at what they do. One way or another, it will work out for good. I promise. I promise you.”

Kaatje clung to her and her promise, hoping against hope that James would live. It mattered not whether he would walk again. It only mattered that he would live.

As Kaatje watched the nurse approach, a Catholic nun in a bleached-white uniform and large hat, she steeled herself for the worst news. The nurse’s expression was cold and distant, exactly as it might be if she found herself the unwelcome bearer of bad tidings. Kaatje grabbed
Elsa’s hand and squeezed it tightly, as if she could pull in some of her strength and borrow it for a while.

“Mr. Walker has made it through surgery,” the nun said crisply.

Surprised, Kaatje gasped for air, so sure that it was bad news she would be given.

“The doctor was successful at extracting the bullet, and shall be out shortly to tell you more of his prognosis for Mr. Walker’s future.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said, apparently seeing that Kaatje could not speak. “We’ll wait here for him.”

The nurse gave them a curt nod and was off down the hall, writing on a chart as she went. Kaatje smiled through her tears. James was alive.

She turned to Elsa and embraced her, still crying, but in joy, not fear now. “Oh, Elsa.”

“He’s alive, dearest! He’s alive!” Elsa’s voice expressed all the celebration Kaatje herself felt inside. When Elsa released her, Karl hugged her too, throwing social custom to the wind.

They all stood then, waiting for the doctor.

“He’s gone out for a four-course dinner before speaking to us,” Elsa complained in a whisper, twenty minutes later.

“Shh,” Kaatje said, eyeing a couple of nurses as they passed, even though she felt just as impatient as Elsa. At last the doctor arrived, looking at his chart as if reading a speech instead of looking them in the eye.

“Our patient has done well,” he began. “The surgery went as expected, although the bullet was more difficult to dislodge than we had originally anticipated. It is good that you left it in at the time of the accident, for if you had tried to remove it outside of the hospital, you would certainly have killed him.” He eyed Elsa with a hint of appreciation in his eyes; Kaatje had told him how Elsa had cared for James that day.

But the flicker of anything good in his eyes left the next second. “Because of the trauma Mr. Walker suffered during surgery in extracting the bullet, I am afraid that he has a reduced chance at regaining
the use of his legs. But again, it is good that we went in and took it out. There was scar tissue forming that would eventually have caused him great pain, and perhaps cut off all feeling to his legs, and ultimately would have killed any chance to walk. This surgery, at the very least, has assured him of a decent life span.”

“Then he will live? “ Kaatje asked.

The doctor frowned at her as if she were questioning his license to practice medicine. “Of course. He is weak and cannot have any visitors for a day or two. But he should live.”

Kaatje breathed another sigh of relief. “There was no sign of infection?”

“No.”

“And in regard to his walking. Although you think he has a reduced chance, there still might be hope?”

“The spinal cord is intact, but damaged. To what extent, I could not ascertain. But if I were a gambling man, I would say his only hope is a miracle from God.”

Elsa put her arm around Kaatje again. “We’ve seen them before,” she said without batting an eye. “We’ll pray for another.”

The following day, still blocked from visiting James, Elsa drew Kaatje away from the hospital to take the girls for an appointment with Madame de Boisiere. “Come. We’ll have her make you something smashing. More beautiful than you’ve ever had before. A ball gown! That’s it! And then we’ll go and buy a ready-made suit for James. For when he walks again. When he can take you dancing.”

Kaatje looked out the window of the carriage. “I do not think James danced even before the accident,” she said. The girls glumly stared from their mother to their aunt.

“Remember the last time we did this?” Elsa asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“You were pregnant with Eve!” Christina said, her face melting from a worried frown into a smile.

“And now she’s with us!” Jessica said, giving the youngest girl a sisterly hug. “Do you want a pretty dress, Eve?”

“Yes, yes!” the small girl replied.

“I want a hat,” Christina announced. “A grown-up hat.”

“You are looking more and more grown-up,” Elsa said, nudging Kaatje. Her friend sat up straighter, seeming to refocus on the girls. They mattered most at that moment.

“You are,” Kaatje added. “Perhaps you could get a grown-up hat today.”

“And me?” Jessica asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

Eve quickly followed suit.

“No, no,” Elsa said good-naturedly. “Someday. When you are nine or ten years old. And not until then.”

“But what color gown for you, Kaatje?” Elsa asked. “What color would make you feel pretty and alive and glad for everything?”

Kaatje shot her a strange look, but curbed whatever was at the tip of her tongue. “Green.”

“Ooh,” Elsa said, nodding. “Like the color of your Christmas dress?” She grimaced as soon as she said it, remembering that Soren had given the fabric to her friend.

But to her credit, Kaatje just nodded back, with a wistful smile at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, like that. But with a little more blue in it.”

“To better match your eyes.”

“If I am allowed to be so vain.” She blushed a bit, making her cheeks spotty with red, while a wave of pink went up one side of her neck. “And in a heavy silk.”

“Will you make it a ball gown with yards and yards of fabric to tie up in a bustle?” Jessica asked excitedly.

“No,” Kaatje said thoughtfully, staring out the window for a moment. She turned back to them all with resolution in her eyes. “I want Madame de Boisiere to make me the most stunning traveling
suit she can. Something to encourage James to stand and walk beside me. And something to wear on Karl’s marvelous ship,” she added.

“That’s a lovely idea,” Elsa said.

“Especially with no ball invitation in hand or expected,” Kaatje added. Juneau and even Ketchikan were growing, but had never had an occasion more formal than a town dance. “We could come here for a ball,” Elsa said.

“No. I think I want the traveling suit.”

“Why not both?”

“Both?” Kaatje scoffed.

“Both,” Elsa returned evenly. “You are a woman of some means now, Kaatje. Even if you only use the proceeds from the gold mine to care for your children. You have lived long on little. Why not indulge a bit? What about a perfect traveling suit in green and a ball gown in a lovely rose?”

Kaatje smiled at her girls, and Elsa could practically see the visions from
Godey’s Ladies Book
dancing through her head. “Indulge?”

Her daughters stared back at her, wide-eyed.

“Well, maybe just a little.”

All three girls squealed together as if it were Christmas morning. After a few more blocks, they were there, admiring the dresses in one window, and then another. But as they entered the store, there was one last window. Elsa stopped dead in her tracks.

It was the most beautiful wedding gown she had ever seen. Striking in its simplicity, but elegant from bodice to hem. Kaatje wrapped her arms around Elsa’s waist. “Oh, Elsa. You must have it! You must!”

Elsa’s hand went to her mouth. “Do you think so? It’s right? For me?”

“Perfect. It was made for you. Come. Let’s have Madame de Boisiere bring it into the shop for you to try on.”

“All right,” Elsa said excitedly. They went into the shop, relishing the tinkle of the doorbell as they entered, and the smell and sights of rich fabrics all around them. Madame de Boisiere was with a customer, but once she saw them, she beckoned an assistant to take over
and came to greet them. In minutes, she had brought the dress in from the window.

“It eez about your size,” she said, nodding with approval as she looked Elsa over from shoulder to hip like a butcher eyeing a cow.

Elsa’s pulse raced as she touched the smooth ivory silk of the dress. It had short capped sleeves that were trimmed with heavy satin fringe and a deep drape across the bust and at the back. Underneath the tight bodice, the skirt was gathered at the waist and then continued in luxurious horizontal folds to the floor. It had a modest train, and intricate embroidery at the bottom of the entire skirt—done in a continuous swirling, Greek flourish—before meeting the matching trim of satin fringe.