Northern Lights Trilogy (18 page)

Elsa whirled back to the railing. What had just happened? Never had she seen him look at her that way … the way Peder looked at her.

Kaatje, having observed the two, joined Elsa at the rail. “So you finally see what has been before you all this time.”

Elsa looked over at her with a bewildered expression. “What are you speaking of?”

“Karl. You have seen what he feels.”

“Karl? He is my friend. He feels nothing more.”

Kaatje stared at Elsa until she met her gaze.

“He feels nothing more, right?” Elsa asked in a soft, faraway voice.

Once again Kaatje said nothing, waiting for her to come to her own conclusions.

“Father in heaven, please let her be wrong,” Elsa said, staring upward, then back at Kaatje and then out to sea.

Kaatje studied her friend, taking in the vision she made. Soft tendrils of golden hair had escaped her cap and curled around her neck. With her hair pulled back, her eyes were all the more luminous, her curvy lips all the more apparent. To Karl, she undoubtedly looked fetching.

Kaatje’s mind leaped to Soren and his indiscretions. She knew now where he had been all those missing hours, during all those days. The long strands of dark chestnut hair in her bed … the afternoons when Tora would emerge, looking slightly mussed. Soren had taken to staying in their cabin of late—to study his English, he said—but Kaatje had overheard Peder and Karl talking. He had been caught with Tora, and thinking they would spare Kaatje the embarrassment, they had confined the man to his cabin and Tora to new quarters at the opposite end of the ship.

The revelation came not as a surprise, but as something to which one nodded, and agreed that yes, that was about what was expected.
O dear God
, she had prayed,
make North Dakota a land of men
. But her prayer brought her little comfort. For Soren was ill in a way, seemingly destined to seek his healing in women. It was like a disease. And she was powerless to stop it.

“Kaatje,” Elsa said forcefully. She brought her head up, suddenly
aware that Elsa had been speaking to her. “How long have you known about Karl?”

“I suspected for weeks,” Kaatje said curtly. She felt overwhelmingly tired and irritated at Elsa’s naiveté. Could she not see? And what did she have to worry about anyway? It was not her husband who lusted after another woman. She simply had another man in love with her. Oh, for Elsa’s problems!

“What is the matter? Are you feeling poorly?” Elsa asked, peering at Kaatje in the looming darkness.

There were few lanterns about, and Kaatje was glad because she felt very close to weeping. This was supposed to be the happiest night of her life! Tomorrow they would be in America, in a week they’d be in North Dakota, a month after that, in their new soddy on their own land. In five months they would welcome a child! And where was her husband? Confined to quarters like a common criminal. Suddenly a rush of anger left her furious with Peder and his sanctimonious ways. What did he know? Perhaps his case was all conjecture. Perhaps Soren was innocent!

“I am tired,” she said irritably to Elsa. “I am going to bed.”

She turned away and almost ran into Tora, who looked resplendent in her own Bergen costume. After searching the girl’s narrowed eyes for a moment, Kaatje left, angry tears cresting her lids and sliding down her cheeks. No, she had seen Soren glance at Tora herself. Inside, she knew the truth.

The dancing had ended, and most of the passengers had turned in for the night. Only a few remained on deck, enjoying the warm summer night. Several sailors hunched around one of the lanterns, playing an ill-tuned accordion and singing together softly in the afterglow of the party. Some of the Camden group huddled around another lantern, talking, planning how things would go.

Peder clapped Karl on the shoulder, feeling weary but very
satisfied. They were nearing land and were close to bringing all these people to the land of their dreams. Their way would be hard, undoubtedly, but once there, they had the chance to make something of themselves,
for
themselves, instead of for a landowner or boss. In America,
they
could be the landowners, the bosses. It was the Great Promise.

He pulled Karl close, in an old, familiar gesture of friendship. “Thank you for staying on for a while, Karl. I know it is difficult for you.”

“In many ways,” Karl said softly, cryptically. “I’ll say again that I don’t know how long I will remain.”

Peder nodded as if he understood, not wanting to bring up anything negative that might harm their friendship again. For theirs was a partnership forged on the iron of many years, a true partnership.

“I will show you, my friend, that you can prosper in our business too,” Peder promised. “I will build a steamship directly after this first schooner, and you can take as much financial interest in her as you care.”

Karl looked at him in surprise. “You are quite serious?”

“Yes. Of course. I want you to succeed too. After that, we can build a steamer for every two sailers.”

Karl smiled. “You’re serious?” he repeated. “And I might buy shares for those also, all that I can afford?”

“As many shares as you wish,” Peder said, feeling magnanimous and glad that he was able to please his friend again. “See? You get to share in all the profits of your dream ships without the pressures of financing the yard. You’re free to build your own fleet.”

Karl nodded, obviously thinking it through. “I had not thought of it in that way. To be honest, I had thought you would just never get to a steamer.”

Peder scowled at him. “You know me better than that. You are my friend, my partner. I would not overlook our friendship for the sake of business.”

Karl looked at him steadily. “You already did. You took your father’s loan without discussing it with me.”

Peder shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes. But I’d like to think of it as a providential change in direction. Perhaps over time we’ll both be more successful—me with my yard, you with your fleet.”

Karl nodded. “Perhaps. I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Gud,”
Peder said, sticking out his hand.

Karl shook it firmly.

Peder smiled broadly, feeling as if all was right with the world. “Elsa!” he called to his wife, who stood at the railing looking out at the sea. “There are no northern lights tonight,
elskling
. Come join us!”

Karl watched Elsa come toward them tentatively, her eyes lowered.

“We have good news!” Peder said to her. “Bring us some refreshments, will you, wife? We have to have a toast.”

She left, obviously glad to escape Karl’s presence. He knew she had recognized his feelings toward her. He had seen it in her eyes at the end of their dance together. Her discomfort made him feel miserable. Perhaps she would forget—or think she had misread him. Perhaps they could put this nonsense behind them when they got to Camden-by-the-Sea and get on with the business of building a shipyard. Yes. That was it. It was just a phase. Like a moon reaching its zenith, surely these feelings would crest then fade away. Karl clung to that thought as he mumbled his thanks when she handed him a crystal goblet.

“Karl has agreed to stay on,” Peder informed her. “After our first schooner, we’ll build his beloved steamer. And it can be all his, if he wishes.”

“Oh, Peder, that’s a wonderful solution.”

Karl nodded. “But I won’t make the first one all mine. Perhaps 60 percent. Who, after all, is foolish enough to invest all his money in one ship? And I might want a part of the schooner.”

Peder laughed and raised his glass. “To our new partnership.”

Karl clinked his glass against Peder’s. “To our new partnership,” he said.

Inwardly, however, he hoped that his own path to success would eventually take him far from Peder and Elsa—for their sakes as well as his.

Boston

July 22, 1880

E
lsa studied her reflection in the mirror. Looped in a braid, her hair was smooth and silky, giving her a mature, sophisticated look worthy of a captain’s wife. As did her new, pale green walking suit. The bottom was trimmed with a deep-pleated flounce and the polonaise with a darker green trim. At hip, sleeve, and bust were luscious, wide bows in the same color. To top it off, she wore a straw hat adorned with green ribbons and silk roses.

“That’ll do for the Americans,” she whispered, smiling. A surge of energy sent her scurrying to the door. She did not want to be late for the first sighting of her new homeland!

She was barely out the door when the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted, “Land ho!” pointing to the southwest. “Land ho!”

Despite the late-night celebration, all passengers were up and dressed in their best finery. Now, as one, the group
hurrahed
and pushed to the railing, peering toward the horizon. They were silent for several long moments, every eye scanning for the first glimpse. Elsa was willing to wager that every person itched to climb the rigging and join the sailor in the crow’s nest.

“There she is!” Einar shouted.

“Land ho!” another man echoed.

Moments later they could all see the slim sliver of land, and they laughed and hugged and slapped one another on the back. They were home, or close to it, anyway.

“Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America,” Elsa whispered to herself, staring at the hazy outline in the distance.

Peder had arranged for his passengers to disembark in Boston, rather than New York, to avoid the mess at Castle Garden. In Boston, they processed several hundred people each day, compared to Castle Garden’s three or four thousand, and oftentimes immigrants passed more smoothly through Boston’s immigration house.

Peder relinquished the helm to Karl and came to Elsa. They smiled at one another and shared a quick hug.

“She is beautiful, no?”

“What I can see of her.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, patting her hand. “You will love our new home.”

Elsa loved the sound of it:
Our new home
. It felt as if they were truly beginning their life together.

Kaatje found herself continually glancing at her husband, wondering at the change in him. Ever since the
Herald
had docked, late in the afternoon, he had been very protective and solicitous of her, helping her down the gangplank, asking Einar to watch over her while he went after their luggage, staying close to her side as they moved into the immigration lines. She felt safe and cherished, once again able to believe that this truly was a new beginning for them. From here on out, all things would be new, including her trust and love for Soren. He was her husband, and despite everything, she could not imagine life without him. Last night when she had confronted him about Tora, once again he had begged for forgiveness, and though her heart was broken, she had granted it. Today, however, her hope was
renewed. For Soren would be a new man in North Dakota. They just had to get there.

It would take a while, though. A customs agent gave them each several sheets to fill out and kept an eye on them until they had all completed the task. Then, with a translator in tow to make sure all understood his directions, he led them to a government-sponsored hotel in which they would stay the night. Tomorrow they would begin their process to citizenship. The hotel was not grand, but even the creaky beds felt luxurious to the sea-weary passengers. Most could not sleep anyway, so excited were they to be in America.

Their high countenance ebbed the next day, Kaatje noticed, as for hours the Bergen group wound through the immigration house assembly line. Like the cattle at home, Kaatje thought, simply following the cow in front to the feedlot. The immigrants wore chalk marks on their clothing, indicating their country of origin and date of arrival. They went in and out of booths, up and down stairs, waiting in line after line. “It is this way for a purpose,” Soren said. “See the officials? They watch your breathing as you climb the stairs to find out if you have lung disease. They make you carry your own luggage to make sure you’re not hiding a limp or other ailment.”

Kaatje looked at him admiringly. How had he learned so much? His knowledge and confidence reassured her, and she was glad he stayed close to her, especially when they encountered uniformed officials asking quick questions in their American-accented English. Nora had learned her English from a woman in Britain, and the Bergensers from Nora, so their new tongue suddenly sounded foreign on the lips of impatient American officials. “What’s your name?” the first fired at her. “Where are you from? Where are you going? Do you have any education? Do you have any skills? Who paid for your ticket?” On and on went the questions, thirty-two in all. Kaatje held her breath at the end as the official looked over the paper then stamped it.

She was in. At least she was almost in. With trembling fingers she
handed the doctor at the end of the line her paperwork as Soren looked on. She had heard horror stories of people being turned back for medical reasons, forced to return to their homeland on the next outgoing ship. “What’s your name?” the doctor asked, matching her response to the slip. “Are you suffering from any special diseases?” he asked.