[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North (33 page)
‘‘Sure they do. I’ve seen my father weep buckets of tears over lost souls,’’ Karen replied. She went to Jacob and gently touched his arm. ‘‘You don’t have to be ashamed. I don’t think less of you for your tears. Fact is, I’d think less of you if you were without feeling for the things that matter.’’
‘‘I wanted to please her. I really did. But I just couldn’t make a promise to God.’’
‘‘Why not? Don’t you believe that salvation is necessary?
Don’t you think you sin just like everybody else?’’
‘‘Of course I do,’’ he replied rather indignantly. ‘‘I’m a terrible sinner.’’
‘‘Then why not come clean before God?’’ she asked.
Jacob tensed. ‘‘It’s not important.’’ He tried to walk away, but Karen held him fast.
‘‘It’s only life and death,’’ Karen said. ‘‘Why can’t you give your heart to Jesus, Jacob?’’
Her calm, loving way was his undoing. Jacob’s tears returned in a torrent of emotion. ‘‘I’d do it in a minute if it would bring her back. I can’t bear that I let her down.’’
‘‘It’s my guess that she was only concerned with seeing you again in heaven.’’
He nodded. ‘‘I know. She said that much. But I’m not a good person, Miss Pierce.’’
Karen smiled. ‘‘None of us are. And why don’t you call me Karen. It seems to be the way things are done up here, and I might as well give up the nonsense of formalities, especially when much more important things are at stake.’’ She paused and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘‘So why is it that you are so far beyond redeeming?’’
‘‘I’m just not good. I make a lot of mistakes.’’
‘‘So?’’
His voice rose in agitation. ‘‘I know I’ll keep making them.’’
‘‘So?’’
Jacob frowned. ‘‘Ma said you weren’t to make a pledge to God if you didn’t intend to keep it. She said it was foolishness, that the Bible said it was better not to make a promise at all than to make one and not see it through.’’
Karen smiled and nodded. ‘‘That’s true, but there’s also the matter of your heart, Jacob. Would you willingly go into sin? Would you seek it out—desire it for your life?’’
‘‘No,’’ he replied, shaking his head.
‘‘See, God knows we’re going to make a mess of things now and then,’’ she continued. ‘‘We have a sinful nature, and we need the Holy Spirit to help guide us as we go about our way. We need God to strengthen us because we can’t do anything on our own.’’
‘‘But if I give my heart to God and break my promise, won’t He hate me—condemn me?’’
‘‘God knows your weaknesses, Jacob. He knows exactly where you’ll be tempted and where you won’t. Besides, the promise is on God’s part—not yours. Your part of the promise is to accept His free gift of salvation with a repentant heart. His part of the promise is Jesus.’’
Jacob had never heard salvation explained in such a manner. He felt a surge of hope. ‘‘And even if I mess up, God will still know that I’m trying—that I want to be good and do right?’’
Karen smiled, and the look on her face reassured him more than her words. ‘‘He’s already seen the future. Remember, Jesus died for you every bit as much as He died for His disciples and friends. He knew you—Jacob Barringer—would need a Savior. He knew all your sins and the things you’d do wrong. He knew the things that would come out of your mouth and the things you’d harbor in your heart. And He still went to the cross because He didn’t want to lose you, Jacob. He’s just waiting for you to come home—to see how much He loves you.’’
Jacob’s eyes flooded with tears, and he couldn’t even see Karen for the blur they created. His heart felt lighter than it had since his mother had first talked to him about salvation.
‘‘Jesus loves you. He loves you and He already knows your
heart,’’
Jacob’s mother had said not long before her death.
‘‘You can’t keep anything from Him.’’
Her words had been so tender—so gentle. They were given out of love and a desire to show her child the truth.
For some reason the memory eased the aching in Jacob’s heart. ‘‘I’m just afraid of letting Him down,’’ he finally whispered. ‘‘I’m not good at keeping promises.’’
Karen hugged Jacob tightly. ‘‘Maybe not, but He is.’’
Jacob allowed himself to rest in Karen’s arms. She reminded him so much of his mother. Even the way she held him was similar. How he wished he’d allowed his mother to hug him more often. He’d always worried about what his friends might think or say. He’d told his mother he was too big for such silliness.
I’m not too big, Ma,
he thought, wishing with all his heart that she might hear and know his love for her.
I’m not too big
for you to love
.
He pulled away and looked at Karen quite seriously. ‘‘Do you suppose if I take Jesus as my Lord, that my ma will see and know?’’
‘‘The Bible says that all of heaven rejoices when a lost sinner gets saved,’’ Karen replied. ‘‘I would imagine she’ll be sharing that happiness right along with the rest of heaven.’’
‘‘Will you tell me what to do—what to say?’’
Karen nodded, and holding on to his hand, she knelt on the floor. Looking up at him, she smiled. ‘‘I’ve found that it’s best to start from the bottom and work our way up.’’
PETER FELT A MOMENTARY REPRIEVE in his worries over Grace when his father announced that Martin Paxton had lost all his hirelings to the gold rush. The man was positively livid and made no secret of that fact when discussing his plans to find Grace. Ephraim had tried to console his friend, reminding him that short of catching a boat south or going north over the passes, there were only a few places Grace would most likely be found. And with winter setting in, only the hardiest souls would even consider heading into the wilderness.
Paxton had been unconvinced, however.
Peter still couldn’t believe that Martin Paxton was the nightmare Grace had been running from. For all his desire to dislike the man, he was practically a hero to Peter’s father. And so far in their business discussions and encounters, Peter had only the highest respect for the man. It all seemed very puzzling.
Knowing that Grace was betrothed to his father’s dear friend troubled Peter, leaving little room for any other thought. He’d not even been able to think of leaving Skagway for fear that Paxton would catch wind of Grace’s presence in Dyea and then take it upon himself to investigate the matter. Peter felt he couldn’t leave without talking with Grace and knowing the truth, and yet the idea of knowing the truth of this situation was almost more troubling.
‘‘Peter, what’s wrong with you?’’ Miranda asked. ‘‘It’s Christmas and you haven’t been yourself all day. Are you ill?’’
Peter smiled at his sister. She had dressed in the merriest of holiday colors with a smart-looking green-and-red plaid skirt and a high-collared white blouse. A wide black belt encircled her tiny waist and black patent leather boots peeked out from beneath her hem.
‘‘I don’t mean to spoil the festivities,’’ he said as she came to sit beside him. ‘‘I suppose my mind is on other things.’’
She reached out and took his hand. ‘‘Such as?’’
He looked at her for a moment.
I can trust her more than
anyone,
he thought.
I can tell her everything and perhaps even
enlist her help
. A plan began to form in the back of his mind.
‘‘Do you remember Mr. Paxton speaking about his fiance
e?’’
She nodded. ‘‘Of course. He’s talked about her off and on since boarding
Summer Song
. What of it?’’
Peter looked around as if to make certain no one would overhear him. Knowing that Paxton and his parents had gone out to a party where they would meet with potential investors, Peter relaxed a bit. ‘‘I know who Mr. Paxton is looking for.’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘I know this woman, Grace Hawkins.’’
‘‘That’s wonderful!’’ Miranda declared. ‘‘Mr. Paxton will be so pleased.’’
‘‘I don’t plan to tell him,’’ Peter said flatly. He looked to Miranda to see what her reaction might be. ‘‘At least not yet.’’
‘‘But why not? He’s come so far to find her.’’
‘‘The trouble is,’’ Peter replied, ‘‘she doesn’t want to be found.’’
‘‘I don’t understand.’’
‘‘I know,’’ he said, reaching out to pat her hand. ‘‘But I want to explain it to you, and then I’d like to have your help.’’
‘‘You know I’d do anything for you,’’ she said softly.
‘‘I believe Mr. Paxton may not be exactly as he appears. We’ve so long known him as our father’s friend that we’ve never questioned what he might truly be about. We know nothing of him, except his kindness to Father.’’
‘‘That’s true,’’ Miranda said, nodding.
‘‘I met Miss Hawkins on the trip to Skagway some months ago. She was terribly distressed and told me of her father seeking to force her hand in marriage. She told me the man was a horrible monster who had been violent with her and that she had run away from her father’s demands and this man’s cruelty.’’
‘‘Mr. Paxton?’’ Miranda questioned, eyes wide.
‘‘One and the same,’’ Peter replied. ‘‘I realize I know very little of Grace Hawkins. She could have been lying to me, but I fail to see what purpose it would have served. She had no reason to tell me such tales. I merely came upon her feeling frightened and tearful and the story poured out in a most honest manner.’’
‘‘But if she’s not lying, then Mr. Paxton is . . .’’ Her words faded as she met Peter’s eyes. ‘‘What are we to do?’’
‘‘I’ve deliberated that for days. I don’t wish to anger Paxton or hurt Father by keeping this from them, but I feel I must protect Miss Hawkins. She’s younger than you and very quiet and sweet-tempered.’’
‘‘She sounds very special.’’ She paused, then asked, ‘‘Could it be that you’ve grown an attachment for her?’’
Peter smiled. ‘‘You are wise beyond your years. I suppose I can confide in you.’’
‘‘You know I would never breathe a word of it or anything else. You can trust this matter to remain between you and me,’’ Miranda assured him.
‘‘We must seek to better understand Mr. Paxton. Perhaps I’ve misjudged the situation, and my feelings for Miss Hawkins have caused me to see things as less than clear.’’
‘‘What can we do?’’
‘‘I propose to have you bring up the topic of Miss Hawkins. Perhaps he will discuss his feelings on her and the upcoming marriage. Seek to learn if he truly loves her or if, as Grace says, this was merely a business arrangement.’’
‘‘Even if it were,’’ Miranda replied, ‘‘I would have thought you to support such matters. You’ve often said that women are poor judges of such things—that our hearts often cloud our thinking and reasoning.’’
Peter frowned. He had said all of that. He had told her on many occasions that she was far too emotional in her thinking to make a sound, reasonable judgment in matters of matrimony and her future.
‘‘I know what I’ve said in the past,’’ Peter began, ‘‘but I would never subject anyone, man or woman, to a cruel master. Paxton should have nothing to hide in discussing the matter with you. It will appear innocent enough, and there should be no reason to conceal his heart.’’
‘‘If he will discuss the situation at all,’’ Miranda replied.
‘‘I’ve no reason to believe he wouldn’t. In a quiet, non-threatening setting such as this, Mr. Paxton would have little to concern himself over. He will simply see you as curious— perhaps even caring. When Mother and Father return, I shall take them aside for a private chat. Perhaps then you could have Mr. Paxton’s attention.’’ Just then they heard a commotion coming from the stairs. ‘‘They’re back. Just try to think of any way in which you can get him to talk about Grace and how he truly feels about their union,’’ Peter said, getting up rather abruptly.
Miranda nodded. ‘‘I’ll do what I can.’’
Peter met his parents as they topped the landing, with Martin Paxton right behind them. ‘‘I wonder if I might steal my parents away from you for a moment,’’ he said, smiling at Paxton.
Cold green eyes met his gaze as Paxton nodded. ‘‘By all means. After all, it is Christmas and we’ve hardly made merry together. Perhaps you had something in mind for a celebration?’’
Peter shook his head. ‘‘I hadn’t given it serious thought, but perhaps as we discuss other matters, we can consider that as well.’’ He looked to Miranda and smiled. ‘‘We’ll just be a minute, and then maybe we can all go out for a celebration dinner. That is, unless everyone has closed shop for the day.’’
Peter’s parents looked at each other and then to Peter.
‘‘Would you mind accompanying me back downstairs?’’ he asked them.
‘‘Of course not, but what’s this about?’’ Ephraim questioned.
‘‘We can discuss it in private,’’ Peter replied, casting one quick glance over his shoulder at Miranda. ‘‘It won’t take long.’’
Miranda studied the handsome man as he crossed the room and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey. Paxton held up the bottle, almost as an afterthought.
‘‘Would you care for some?’’
‘‘No, thank you. I don’t imbibe in spirits.’’
He nodded, then replaced the stopper in the bottle. ‘‘So what do you think of the frozen north? Are you ready for the warmth of your home?’’
