Northern Lights Trilogy (87 page)

It was a late May afternoon. Kaatje unhitched the strap from Nels’s belly and slapped him on the back to let him saunter back to the barn for dinner. That was when she saw her. Tora stood at the edge of the field, Christina and Jessica on either side of her. Yet she only looked toward Kaatje.

Kaatje was too stunned to move. When she had returned home, she had felt safe, separated from the chance that Tora might again seek them out. What did she want? Kaatje thought. What was she to say? All the kindness and sympathy that Kaatje had felt for her that day in the soup kitchen, the day she had brought Tora home to Elsa, was gone. All she felt now was fear and dread. “God help me,” she whispered.

The girls followed Tora as she picked her way down the row toward Kaatje. Then seeing their mother’s expression, they drew together and stopped. Tora continued and stopped before Kaatje, never speaking. Somehow Kaatje sensed that the Tora who stood before her now was a new person. No longer the flashy girl who pushed for her own way, she seemed humble, a plea for forgiveness clearly written in her eyes.

Kaatje looked at her and noticed that Tora was covered with soot from the train and dust from the road. Even though she herself was just as grimy after a day in the fields, her first thought was for Tora. Gently, she took Tora’s hand and led her to the well in front of the house. Still they had not shared one word. The girls followed, but kept their distance. Once they reached the well, Kaatje pulled up a fresh bucket of water and offered Tora the first dipper. She drank deeply, then Kaatje did the same.

Then Kaatje took a rag from the side of the well and dipped it in the cool water. She wrung it out and gently washed Tora’s cheeks, chin, and forehead as the younger woman wept. Words came at last. “I am undeserving of your kindness, Kaatje.”

Kaatje turned to wash her own face and take another drink, examining every feeling in her heart. Nowhere could she find the hate and fury she once felt toward Tora. Its absence stunned her. She turned back to Tora. “We have needed to make peace for some time,” she said.

Tora looked down at the ground and then back toward Kaatje. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I forgave you awhile ago, I guess.” Kaatje looked toward Jessica
and then back at Tora. “Come inside, Tora. Girls, go and milk the Jersey cow. You can get to know our guest this evening.” Reluctant to leave the drama unfolding before them, the girls turned to walk toward the barn, their heads together as they whispered back and forth.

“Come in, Tora. Let us talk inside.”

Tora followed Kaatje into the tiny house and finally said, “I have come to serve you, Kaatje. For as long as it takes. God has sent me here.”

“You need not serve me, Tora. I have forgiven you.”

She met Kaatje’s gaze and repeated, “God has sent me here. He told me you would need help.”

“We manage on our own. Have for five years,” she said pointedly.

“Let me stay,” Tora pleaded. “Just for a while. Until we determine what is right.”

Kaatje studied her pained expression for a moment. “You may stay in the hayloft until we decide what to do next.”

“You mean before we leave?”

“Leave? We are not going anywhere.”

“I am sorry … I had somehow understood … I’ll go and fetch my satchel.” Kaatje watched her through the window as she went out to the field and knelt by her satchel. She stayed there for a moment, apparently weeping into her hands. She could see that this was as difficult for her as it was for Kaatje. And yet what was that talk of leaving?
Before we leave
. Did she have hopes of taking Jessie away?

The girls hurried past Tora with a sloshing bucket of milk, eager not to miss anything, yet clearly unnerved by the crying stranger.

“Mama, who is that?” Christina asked as soon as they entered the house.

Kaatje’s eyes did not leave the huddled form outside. “That is Tora. She is Auntie Elsa’s sister. She will stay for a while.” Her eyes went with dread to Jessie. The girl stood stock-still, then gazed back out the open doorway.

“She is my mother?”

“What?” Christina asked crossly.

But Jessie only looked at Kaatje.

“Yes, Jessica. She is the woman who gave you to me.”

The four of them shared a torturous dinner in near silence, then eagerly went their separate ways. Kaatje did not know where to begin with Tora, how to help her to find her peace so she would leave them alone. Yet Tora’s eyes did not betray any desire to steal Jessie away from her, just a hungry curiosity about the girl. And Jessie was the same.

Kaatje tossed and turned in bed, sweat dampening the sheets although the evening was cool. How could they find their way through this? Why had God sent Tora here? A form in her doorway caught her attention. “Jess?”

“Yes, Mama. Mama, I’m scared.”

Kaatje opened up the sheets to her daughter. “Come here.” She held the thin girl’s form close to her own, discovering that Jessica trembled.

“You won’t let her take me away?” Jessica whispered.

“I promised. Somehow, I don’t think that’s why she’s here.”

“Why is she here?”

“I think to find forgiveness. To make amends. To get to know you a bit. She knows we’re a family, Jess. The last thing she wants is to cause you any pain.”

Her daughter said nothing.

“Go to sleep, Jessie,” Kaatje said gently, kissing the back of her head. “It will all look better in the morning.” Her words were meant to reassure herself as much as the girl in her arms.

It was much later that Tora’s words came back to her.
Before we leave
. The Lord’s words also came, shouted in her head, not allowing her to think of anything else.
You will not be alone
.

Stunned, she sat up, rubbed her face, trying to make sure she was not dreaming. With Tora, she might be able to handle the wilds of
Alaska. She was another adult, capable of bearing a portion of their required load over the Klondike. Perhaps she could even help with the financial load. Together, they’d have a better chance.
Before we leave
. Was that the reason God had sent Tora to her? So she could go to Alaska? For a moment she felt hopeful, but then her old fears resurfaced.

Could she risk having Tora Anders near her for that long?

July 1887

S
ince there was no pier where ships could discharge cargo or passengers could disembark in Yokohama, the vast array of sailing ships, steamships, and warships of many nations were serviced by sampans and small steam launches. These launches transported people and goods to and from the Bund, the wide waterfront street that faced the harbor, all day long and often into the night.

If the expatriates in Hawaii had treated her as a novelty, the Japanese made Elsa feel like royalty. Once the men understood that her morals were not lacking simply because she captained a ship, she was swept up into their world without further ado. But Elsa found trading in Japan to be as painfully slow and as tedious a process as Peder had. If it had not been for the Japanese people’s reception of her, she might have given up the whole idea. Since her last visit with Peder, the harbor had become muddled with more red tape than she cared to wade through. Passing the responsibility off to Riley, she took the children and Mrs. Hodge and accepted any invitation that came her way.

Throughout June and July they had seen those cities heretofore opened by treaty: Yokohama, Kobe, Osaka, Nagasaki, Niigata, Hakodate, and Tokyo. But the Saitos gave her access beyond those familiar cities’ borders. They traveled by jinrikisha to the interior, visiting
Japanese inns that served unfamiliar food that Kristian balked at eating, to say nothing of Mrs. Hodge. Although privacy was nearly impossible to obtain and Western-style sanitation unknown, Elsa relished the opportunity to see the native people in their natural setting. If one were to stay in the well-known Western-style hotels that most captains frequented in the treaty cities, she reasoned, it was impossible to absorb the true culture of Japan. “Why, that’s as exotic as a London hotel,” Elsa had chided when Mrs. Hodge suggested they stay at the Grand Hotel in Yokohama.

Her adventuresome spirit had attracted the attention of the most prestigious people of Japan. The legend of the tall Norwegian-American Heroine of the Horn grew larger, and word that she stayed within their borders spread across the countryside. Therefore, when she again returned to Yokohama after a two-day excursion to Kamakura and Enoshima, she was deluged by swarms of people who had heard of Elsa Ramstad. They came at her from all directions, wanting to touch her champagne-colored hair and her creamy skin. As the jinrikisha attempted to reach the Bund across the macadam streets, they came to a halt in the midst of the frenzy. At first Elsa was amazed and amused. Then she grew frightened. The Japanese women passed Kristian around as if he were a doll, fascinated by his light hair. After a few minutes, he began to cry, calling for Elsa. She had just gotten him back into her arms when Mrs. Hodge screamed, slapping away hands that reached for Eve. Elsa had had enough. She stood and pulled a pistol from her waistband. “Go away!” she shouted, in English and Japanese. “Let us through!”

Her sense was that these people did not intend to hurt her and her family; they were merely curious. But the intensity and number of them unnerved her. Still, her gun did little more than quiet briefly the furor that was growing around her. More and more people arrived, adding to the madness.

Suddenly, the crowd calmed and parted for a small group traveling
in an elaborate open carriage. Upon seeing them, Elsa gasped and sat down abruptly. The people all about them bowed as low as they could get to the ground. It was Emperor Meiji and his mistress, the Empress, as usual, conspicuously absent. The Emperor wore a modernstyle military uniform while the girl was still robed in the traditional dress of the day. In contrast, the Empress had abandoned the blacking of teeth and shaved eyebrows that had formerly marked married women, and instead favored western dress. A servant hopped off the back of the carriage and hurried over to Elsa.

“His Highness wishes for you and your children to accompany him to the Imperial Palace,” he said in practiced English with a British accent. “We shall go from here to the train station and be there by nightfall. There you shall be well fed and entertained.”

Elsa fought to conceal her surprise. “Why, thank you. Please pass along my most high praise for his generous offer. But I must see how the men of my ship are faring before I leave on leisure again.”

The servant listened intently and then turned to translate for the Emperor. The older man smiled and gave her a little wave, nodding over and over again.

“His Highness agrees to your terms,” the servant said formally. “You may go to the station at your convenience. There the royal car shall be waiting to take you to Tokyo.”

“It is most kind of Emperor Meiji to offer such a generous invitation,” Elsa said, keeping her eyes low to the ground. “If my ship is ready to sail, would it be acceptable to His Highness if we would sail to Tokyo Bay rather than travel by train?”

Again the servant turned and discussed it with the Emperor. He turned back to Elsa. “The Emperor will expect you, in three days’ time, by train or by sail. For you, he will have a formal reception on the evening of the third day.”

“In three days,” Elsa said with a nod. “I will be honored to accept.”

She watched as the servant and the Emperor again conferred. The servant said, “His Highness wishes to know why you tarry so long in Yokohama.”

Elsa blushed and searched for the right words. “Please tell Emperor Meiji that we had hoped to sell our American wood here, but find the trade laws have again changed. Apparently, the week before we arrived, it was made law that nothing other than kerosene or cotton could be off-loaded. We came such a long way that we had hoped to—”

Again master and servant conferred. “He says to tell you that if you haven’t sold your wood by the end of the day to bring it to Tokyo. He will see to it that it will be sold there at a good price.”