Northern Lights Trilogy (42 page)

Virginia smiled and swatted him with her purse. She looked over at Karl. “He makes me laugh. I make him be serious. A lovely arrangement, don’t you agree?”

Karl smiled, the mood restored. “I am happy for you both,” he said quietly.

Soon the cab pulled to a stop outside a huge Roman Catholic basilica, and Brad reached up to pay the driver as they exited. At least fifty carriages stretched out on both sides of the street, their drivers and doormen idling about in the sweltering July humidity, awaiting the return of their passengers. Karl followed Brad and Virginia as they climbed the grand, wide steps and entered the church.

He paused to gape at the entry while Brad took their hats and canes and disappeared. Almost every seat was already filled, even in the balcony. The sanctuary temperature must have risen ten degrees purely from the bodies that packed the pews.

“What’s this?” he whispered to Brad upon his return. “A wedding ceremony or a business function for John?”

“Both,” Brad said, stepping out to follow an usher who had Virginia on his arm. Karl had no choice but to follow. “The Halls practically financed this entire building,” Brad muttered under his
breath as they walked side by side down the aisle. “Your future mother-in-law is much more devout than John. He did it to please her.”

Karl fought the urge to whistle. “I hope she was mollified,” he whispered as they sat down.

The ceremony, which included a High Mass, went on for over two hours, with the priest speaking in Latin and the crowd fanning themselves or dabbing at foreheads with handkerchiefs. At one point Virginia leaned toward Karl and whispered, “I hope no one faints up there,” nodding toward the wedding party. It was with some relief on everyone’s part that bride and groom were pronounced man and wife, and the organ played the recessional.

Not until the reception at a luxurious downtown hotel did Karl see Tora, who gestured to him from the coatroom. Her presence hit him with all the warmth of a Bering Strait iceberg. His smile fading, he walked toward her quickly, wanting them to have their words and get it over with.

“Since I’ve seen no evidence of your child, I assume you’ve dumped it on someone else,” he said without preamble. “With whom? Elsa?”

“Shhh,” she said, scowling and pulling him into the small room, where she partially closed the door. “I found a suitable home for her.”

“And Kristoffer’s boys?”

“I fulfilled my duty to him. The deal was six months for passage to America. I stayed for eight.”

“Because you were pregnant. Do you not realize that Kris was in love with you?”

“Never mind about all that,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “That is past. You know about the past, don’t you, Karl?” she asked slyly. She gestured about her. “We have both entered a new world. All I want is your promise that you will not say a word to Trent about knowing me. We will pretend that we simply have never met.”

“Why? Will it not be a bit odd since we’re both from Bergen? It
will only be a matter of time before someone puts two and two together. Then our duplicity will only seem worse.” It dawned on him why she was so anxious. “Oh, I understand. Trent’s your new conquest. And you will present yourself as a virgin bride.”

“And why not? I was taken advantage of—”

“Advantage, my foot. You cannot fool me, Tora Anders. No one has ever taken advantage of you in your life.” Through the half-open door he caught a glimpse of Alicia in the hotel lobby, looking for him so they could make their entrance into the ballroom. “I have to go, Tora.”

“Not before I have your promise.”

“I will not promise you that.”

“Yes, you will,” she said, crossing her arms. “You will, or I’ll have your fiancée thinking your intentions were not entirely honorable with me here in the coatroom.”

Karl glared at her. “Like you did with Soren Janssen, right?”

“Promise me.”

“Fine. Just stay out of my life, Tora Anders,” he said, shaking a finger in her face. “Stay clear.”

He turned to leave, paused, then said over his shoulder, “And wait five minutes to leave this room so there is no suspicion.”

“Agreed,” she said, obviously pleased.

How in the world had Tora Anders drawn him into her falsehoods? he wondered moments later, forcing a smile and taking Alicia’s arm.

“May I present Mr. Karl Martensen and Miss Alicia Hall!” the doorman cried.

The ballroom erupted in applause as if they were royalty.

July 25, 1881

E
lsa stood at the bow of the
Sunrise
, her nose lifted to the wind. She could smell the fresh tang of pine and the loamy scent of the fertile ground not a half mile from the ship’s deck. Her father would have loved this place. The thought pained her heart, for she longed to share her new life with her father. At least she still had her mother, and perhaps someday soon Gratia would come to live with them. If only Peder would come and stand beside her—come and wrap his arms around her! To some extent, that might help relieve her grieving heart. Instead he had anchored his anger deep within, holding onto his resentment, refusing to let it out with the tide.

She chastised herself for dwelling on this matter yet again. Peder would have to find his own way to deal with his feelings and whatever else was troubling him. In the meantime, a new land stretched before her, and Elsa intended to relish each moment. Seattle was a tiny town of mud and few civilized attributes, but she loved its spirit already. The dense conifer forests reminded her of Bergen, and with the many rushing river ways that dumped into Puget Sound, the territory was ripe for a healthy logging business. Elsa had decided that
Henry Whitehall knew what he was doing. Washington Territory would make many wealthy, and the Ramstads should share in the bounty.

As Peder approached, she turned and watched a steamboat leaving a nearby river and entering Puget Sound, hauling freshly harvested pine behind in a great net.

“You see her?” she said, pointing across the Sound. If she could not reach him on a personal level, perhaps she could approach him through talk of work.

“I do.”

“You realize that we could build our own?”

“Of course.” His tone indicated he didn’t follow her train of thought.

“Think of it, Peder. If we built a couple more schooners and a steamboat like that one, we could have our own lumber business.”

“I have enough on my mind without building a second business on top of the first.”

He turned away, and she followed, echoing his slow gait.

“But what is to learn? You have been around Ramstad Yard in Bergen all your life. The
Sunrise
is testimony that you can build ships.” She reached out to touch his arm, then waved at the coastline before them. “Does this not feel right to you somehow?” She shook her head. “I cannot shake it. It’s like God is nodding and smiling. I can
feel
it.”

Peder looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “So what? You want us to leave Camden? The house I’ve built you?” He shook his head. “No. We have enough to handle without moving to a town in an area that has not yet even claimed her statehood. Tend to your painting, Elsa. Leave the business to me.”

His tone stung, and Elsa set her mouth in a grim line. “I would appreciate if you would not just dismiss—”

“I am the head of this family. I would appreciate if you did not challenge me.”

She sighed in frustration. “And I would appreciate if you were not so imperious that I cannot even discuss our future—my future—with you.”

Peder ran his hand through his hair, leaving a curl resting on his forehead. “I am willing to discuss with you any wise options, Elsa. I simply do not think this place is good for us—for any reason other than to load and leave.”

She looked at him and back to the coast. It was beautiful. The towering, snow-capped mountain ranges were awe-inspiring, and the hills, with their thick evergreens, appeared more verdant and fresh than Maine. It was rough and yet inviting at the same time. It was so …
new
. Rough and untamed, ready to be made into anything they wanted.

“So you feel nothing?” she asked, waving toward it. How could he
not
feel what she did for this new land? “You do not feel any tugging at your heart?”

“You speak nonsense, Elsa,” he said in dismissal. “If you think it is so beautiful, why not break out your oils and canvas and paint it?”

She swallowed her anger. Sometimes Peder could be fearfully pigheaded. No wonder Karl had been frustrated with him! She turned away and stared at the steamboat pulling away into the distance. No, she was sure of it. Steam and Seattle were in their future whether Peder liked it or not. It would just take him a while to discover the truth of it.

Peder left Elsa on deck and went into his study. The room was crowded with a table holding the standard seaman’s charting equipment—an hourglass, sextant, his logbook, nautical maps—as well as a huge roll-top desk he had purchased in China, which had miraculously escaped damage from the fire. He sat down heavily at the desk, thinking about Elsa and Karl for the thousandth time. The island … the kiss … In a rage he stood, knocking over his chair. He clenched his teeth and swept the table clean with one arm, feeling some
satisfaction as everything fell to the floor with a crash and
whoosh
of papers. He glanced back at the desk … and the envelope lying on it.

It was the letter that finally broke him. Addressed to him, clearly identifiable as Karl’s handwriting. Crumpled and unfolded again and again, yet unopened since he had received it in San Francisco. Sinking to his knees on the hard pine flooring, he began to weep.

“Why?” he cried, looking upward as if able to see God in the wooden moldings. “How could you let this happen? He was like a brother to me. He was like a brother …”

He still is
. The voice of God was discernible to Peder, regardless of the fact that he had shut out the Savior for months.

“No. A brother does not act as Karl has.”

Leave his judgment to me
.

“That’s fine with me. You can send him where he deserves,” Peder spat out. “But what am I to do with her?” he raged, standing and gesturing toward the door. He began pacing the cabin.

Be her husband
.

“I was her husband, and I obviously was not enough, was I?” His words rang hollow, even to him. He heard no answer. “Lord, Lord, I cannot deal with it.”

You are strong
.

“Not this strong. She has not even asked my forgiveness!”

Forgive
.

“Me? She has wronged
me
! She was not faithful! She let him kiss her! She should have seen it coming!” He was indignant. His tears dried on his hot face. He no longer felt God’s presence, just the chilly dampness of the cabin.

“What is fidelity? What does it mean to be faithful?” he mumbled as he righted his chair and sat at the desk again. “Friendship …”

After a moment he picked up the letter and stared at it then beyond to his Chinese desk. He studied the ornately carved dragons and lotus blossoms and exotic diving birds along the top. Beneath was a
more pastoral scene of inlaid pearl, depicting gently climbing hills, drooping trees, and gay birds.

He looked back at the letter. “Were you a dragon after my lotus blossom, Karl?” he ground out. He dropped the letter then rubbed his face in exhaustion.

Peder knew he had to deal with his anger, his jealousy, his harbored bitterness … to get beyond it. He
knew
that. But how could Karl have kissed his wife? How could Karl have endangered his best friend’s marriage … their friendship … and his own future as well? Surely his prospects in Saint Paul were less sure than in Camden-by-the-Sea, regardless of how their plans for the yard had changed. Peder would have made him successful, even though
Ramstad
was the only name on the sign. Peder knew what loyalty, what friendship meant. Apparently Karl did not.

Sudden guilt struck him a devastating blow as he remembered his own sin. He had not been entirely forthright with Karl, after all. He had been disingenuous for months, hiding his father’s financial gift from his friend and partner. Had he made the right decision? Would it not have been a better choice, would he not have been a better man, to gently refuse his father’s money and follow through with the plans he had made with Karl? They would have made slower progress … the
Sunrise
would not yet have been launched … there would have been no voyage with Elsa along. No Mason Dutton. No island. No reason for Karl’s defenses to be down, nor Elsa’s.

“O God,” he muttered. “I have been as guilty as they. Forgive me.”

Forgive them
.

Peder nodded once, knowing the truth yet unable to act upon it.

Was it memories of similar conversations with Karl about steamboats that had made Peder react as he had earlier to Elsa? Her suggestions and careful tone irritated him, chafing at his mind. He swallowed back the suspicion, the disastrous assumption that Elsa had
spoken privately with Karl, agreeing to side with him, to work on Peder from the inside. The image of them together, kissing, threatened to swallow him, like a sea monster dragging them all down to the bottom.