Northern Lights Trilogy (5 page)

Sonje poured another cup of strong coffee for her son and herself as she gazed out the window. With Gustav still absent, she dared to speak openly.

“Your father,” she said, cocking her head toward the door as if visualizing him leaving again, “is afraid. He is afraid that he made the wrong decision in dishonoring God so long ago, but is too proud to admit it.”

“And you, Mother?” Karl asked quietly. “How could you turn your back on Christ?”

“I am a married woman, and I had to abide by your father’s decision.”

A rush of anger flowed through Karl. “How? I admire your respect for my father, but how? If you’ve seen the face of God, how can you turn your back?”

With wise eyes, Sonje studied her only child. “Like anything, it becomes easier with time. When I was a young woman …” her voice trailed away as she looked out the window. “It was harder. Gustav and I attended church each week. But then your father’s father came to live with us.”

“I remember him. A little.”

“Yes, you were quite young. I am surprised you remember him at all. In public, he said all the right things, but in private, he was a
mean man who used the faith in evil ways. Even as an old man, he seemed bent on belittling your father, much as he had your grandmother. Poor dear. She was a wonderful woman. He destroyed her.”

“How?”

Sonje shook her head. “It is not my place to tell you specifics. But I will tell you that she had planted a seed of faith in Gustav that was just beginning to sprout in those early years with me. Away from his father, he could tend the garden—and I could see it.” Her eyes were cloudy with tears, as if she were witnessing a scene from their life twenty years past. “I could see that he was going to become a man with an impressive faith. It brought us ever closer.” A single tear dripped down her cheek and glistened in the window’s light. “And then your grandfather tore it all down. I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces ever since then—to hold us together as a family.”

Karl reached across the table and held her wrinkled hands in his own. “But Mother, you know it is not enough, do you not? I appreciate all you have done for me. But Christ calls constantly. Do you not hear him? Regardless of Father’s decision, you need to stand up for your faith. I don’t know much, but I do know that.”

His mother nodded, two trails of tears glistening now. “I know, Karl.” She removed her hands from his and padded to the window. Outside, Karl glimpsed his father, coming in for his noontime meal. “I’ve heard God calling me for some time now,” she said. “I guess I just needed time to gain strength for the fight.” She turned back to him. “For now, I will find solace in the fact that you have found God. Someday you must tell me how.”

“I will.”

“Was it Peder?” she dared ask, just as Gustav opened the door.

“In some ways,” Karl said, turning to face his glowering father.

“Are you still here?” Gustav thundered. “Out! At once! You are no longer welcome in my home.”

I
t is stunning,” Elsa said in gratitude, standing back from the altar and hooking an arm around each of her sisters.

Indeed, the church looked like a reflection of the hills that surrounded it, artfully decorated with wildflowers. There were the rosy red of heather, the purple of lupine, the gold of buttercups, and the white of daisies and caraway. Carina, dear Carina, had walked high into the hills to gather Elsa’s favorite, pink and purple fireweed. On either side of the altar was a small tree, mounted in a pail of sand, decorated with
prestekrage
, the white flowers that looked like Pastor Lien’s clerical collar. In each of the six windows stood a fat candle that Gratia Anders had hand dipped, with flowers all about them. Although it would be a morning wedding, as was traditional, Elsa had wanted candlelight.

“It is beautiful!” Carina exclaimed, clasping her hands.

Tora moved away, suddenly conscious that she was being friendly with a sister who had refused to help her. Elsa ignored her withdrawal, not wanting anything to shade the light of this day. The morning had begun with a traditional wedding breakfast, a hearty
stew served to both the Anders and the Ramstads at the bride’s home. They had kept Peder blindfolded throughout, determined to keep him from seeing his bride until the wedding. He had laughed along with the rest, accepting help from his mother in feeding himself, yet had borne it all with a quiet dignity. Watching him had made Elsa’s stomach tighten and her hands shake, thinking of how beautiful her husband-to-be was, inside and out. Had she ever been as sure of anything as she was of him? Elsa thought not.

“Come,” Carina said gently, pulling at her younger sister’s hand. “We must get you home and dressed. The processional will begin very soon.”

Elsa nodded and walked out behind her sisters, then turned back once more to look at the sanctuary. She would leave now as an Anders. The next time, it would be as a Ramstad. “Thank you, God, for this happiness!” she whispered, elated. Nothing compared to the joy of this day.

At home, Carina and Tora hustled her into her bedroom and into the clothes that their mother had so lovingly laid out for her. Along with the rest of the wedding party and congregation, Elsa would wear her
bunad
, the traditional costume of Bergen. But as befit a grown woman, she would wear her hair in a graceful chignon instead of a long braid, along with her great-grandmother’s wedding cap—worn by her grandmother and mother before her—and the wedding brooches passed down through her family.

She giggled as Carina pinned yet another
sølje
to her vest, making six in all. “It’s a bit gaudy, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense,” Carina said gently. “It befits a bride to wear all the special jewelry she can get her hands on.” Elsa shifted in her chair, and the tiny gold and silver streamers from each pin jingled softly against the pewter buttons of her vest.

“There, you see?” Carina said. “It sounds like bells from heaven, far, far away.”

Tora snorted from her perch on the bed. “You mind your manners,
Tora Anders,” Gratia said, shaking a brush at her youngest. “This is Elsa’s day, and I do not want you to put a damper on it.”

“I would never think of such a thing,” said Tora, putting on a hurt expression.

“Do not let her fool you, Mama,” Elsa said. “She helped decorate the sanctuary, and it is lovely.”

“She even went up into the hills to get the fireweed you love,” Carina added.

“Tora did that?” Elsa asked in surprise. “I was sure it was you, Carina. Thank you, Tora. See, Mama? She is not as disinterested as she pretends.”

Gratia hid her smile from Tora and finished her work on Elsa’s hair. Then she gently placed the cap on her daughter’s head, tears of joy and sadness intermingling as she did so.

“Oh, Mama,” was all that Elsa could say, feeling herself choke up too.

Gratia wiped away her tears and smiled at her daughter in the mirror before them. “There you are, more beautiful than ever.”

“They have arrived!” Carina said, turning excitedly from the window. “They’re all here! Are you ready, Elsa?”

Butterflies flitted about in her stomach. “As ready as I ever will be,” she said, swallowing hard. Taking her mother’s hand, she stood and looked once more in the mirror. Her long skirt was a thick black wool with fine embroidered work at the bottom. The traditional white blouse hugged her arms and breasts, and over it was a matching vest to the skirt. White stockings and black slippers completed the ensemble. But she had to admit, the jewelry and wedding cap made her feel like Norway’s queen.

And it was a good thing. For when her father opened the door to her groom and shook his hand, she felt as if he were a king. Peder too wore the Bergen costume, but he loomed larger in the doorway than she remembered, and his outfit was new, since the one from his adolescence would have been much too small. His image echoed the
rest of the men, but Elsa thought she had never seen a finer form. Broad shoulders filled his white shirt that billowed at the arms and came down to a fine, fitted cuff. He wore a black vest with gold buttons, and the matching knickers and white hose hugged his thickly muscled legs above big, black shoes. His wide belt was an ornate masterpiece with dangling metalwork.

Amund Anders turned from Peder, kissed his daughter, reached for her hand, and placed it in Peder’s. They grinned at one another for a long time, relishing the moment, and then Gratia pushed them out the door. They led the processional of people walking two by two and talking among themselves. All were in a festive mood, and Elsa felt very loved. How could she do without these people? Only the promise of Peder’s love kept her feet moving to the church, where Pastor Lien met them.

“O God, we commit these children to thy tender care,” he prayed after the opening hymn. “Walk between them, O Lord, for all their days and nights together. Hold them fast in the love that only thy Son Jesus could represent, and give them long life and a fruitful union. These things we pray in thy name, Father.”

“Amen,” said the people.

Pastor Lien leaned forward and smiled at the young couple before him. “I ask thee, therefore, Peder Leif Ramstad, in the presence of God and this Christian assembly: Wilt thou have Elsa Anna Anders, here present, to be thy wedded wife?”

“I will,” Peder said, staring into Elsa’s eyes.

“Wilt thou live with her according to God’s holy word, love and honor her, and alike in good and evil days keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” he repeated, his eyes never wavering.

Pastor Lien turned to Elsa. “In like manner I ask thee, Elsa Anna Anders: Wilt thou have Peder Leif Ramstad, here present, to be thy wedded husband?”

“I will,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong and sure. She
wanted Peder to feel all the assurance she had in her heart that this was right, that she wanted nothing else.

“Wilt thou live with him according to God’s holy word, love and honor him, and alike in good and evil days keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” she stated, hoping her eyes conveyed to Peder all the love she felt.

“Forasmuch as you have consented together in holy wedlock, and have now witnessed the same before God and this Christian assembly, and have joined your right hands in token thereof, I pronounce you man and wife. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

The pastor turned to Peder. “The rings?” he whispered. Peder fished for them in his pocket, then pulled out the two simple bands.

“Repeat after me,” he directed Peder, handing him Elsa’s ring. “Receive this ring …”

“Receive this ring,” Peder said, his eyes glistening with joy as he stared down at her.

“As a pledge and a token of my love and faithfulness.”

“As a pledge,” he said slowly, as if thinking over each word, “and a token of my love and faithfulness.”

As if in a dream, Elsa, as Peder had before her, repeated Pastor Lien’s words and slipped the ring on his hand. They then remained side by side, kneeling before their pastor, as he went on to preach about Adam and Eve, Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, and loving as Christ had loved. Elsa only heard snippets of his homily, thinking more on her elation at being Peder’s bride, having his hand in hers, and their future in America. Pastor Lien’s hand on her head brought her back to the present.

“Let us pray,” he said. “Lord God, heavenly Father, thou who didst create man and woman and didst join them together in marriage, thereby signifying the mystery of the union between thy dear
Son Jesus Christ and his bride the Church: We beseech thee in thine infinite mercy, let not this thy blessed work and ordinance be brought to naught among us, but graciously protect it. Through Jesus Christ, thy beloved Son, our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen!” Peder repeated with gusto, making Elsa want to giggle.

“Peace be with you,” Pastor Lien said, smiling at both of them.

“And with you,” Peder said with a nod.

“The Lord be with you!” the pastor said to his congregation.

“And with thy Spirit!” they said as one.