She looked down at Britta and Kjerstin. They were to be her maids of honor. Phoebe smiled. “I am. You go ahead and lead the way.”
Someone began to play the piano, and Phoebe realized that her wedding had begun. Britta led the way down the aisle, and Kjerstin followed about six paces behind. Phoebe drew a deep breath and felt her knees begin to wobble. Upon meeting Dalton’s blue-eyed gaze, however, she steadied.
He smiled, and Phoebe couldn’t help but flush. She lowered her head, embarrassed that she was now truly a blushing bride. What would people think? She moved down the aisle slowly, keeping her focus on the floor just a few feet in front of her.
I can do this. It’s just one step at a time. She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered her Bible verse from Philippians. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
She felt Dalton take hold of her arm. Trembling from head to toe, she was barely able to look up. Dalton winked, furthering her discomfort. He seemed more the mischievous prankster than the serious groom.
Tucking her arm close to his side, Dalton pressed in closer and whispered in her ear, “If you faint, they’ll report it in the paper.”
Phoebe’s head snapped up. The preacher looked surprised, but Dalton simply held a matter-of-fact expression. Phoebe wanted to give him a hard whack in the ribs, but he was only trying to help. Still, there was something very wrong about a bride being teased in such a fashion. Didn’t he know how nervous she was? Didn’t he understand that she had waited for this day all of her life?
“Dearly beloved,” the pastor began.
Phoebe licked her dry lips and tried to focus on the words of the ceremony. Dalton was about to become her husband. She was about to become his wife, and yet she barely knew this man. Why, they’d only come to Sitka less than six months ago. Maybe they were rushing this.
“Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?” the pastor asked.
For a moment, there was nothing but a stifling silence. Phoebe hadn’t considered who might answer this question. Would her father’s absence somehow cause the wedding to be less than legal in the eyes of the law and God?
“I give her in marriage.”
Phoebe turned to find her mother standing to address the matter. She gave Phoebe a nod, then took her seat.
Turning back to the pastor, Phoebe couldn’t help but ask, “Does that count?”
Dalton and the pastor chuckled, but Phoebe was quite serious.
The pastor leaned toward her. “It’s absolutely fine.” He straightened. “Do you, Dalton, take this woman, Phoebe, to be your lawfully wedded wife—to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”
The words ran together in Phoebe’s head. She tried to focus on them, but her nerves got the better of her. I’m being so silly, she thought. I must pay attention. I must listen to what’s being said. But the more she tried, the more she argued internally with herself.
“I do.”
She heard Dalton’s assent, and for a moment, the confusion cleared. Looking up, Phoebe found him smiling down at her. No, he was grinning like a child who’d gotten away with something he shouldn’t have.
“And do you, Phoebe, take this man, Dalton . . .”
Oh dear. Now it’s my turn. Why can’t I stay calm? She tried to slow her rapid breathing. I want to get married to him. I love him. Why do I feel so . . . so . . . terrified? Her trembling intensified.
“. . . forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him so long as you both shall live?”
Phoebe swallowed hard. She knew it was her turn to speak. I’ve forgotten the words. What do I say? I can’t remember. She looked at Dalton, feeling panic overcome her senses. “Yes,” she said with a nod for emphasis.
“Say, ‘I do,’ ” the pastor prompted.
Dalton gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The look on his face was a mixture of amusement and compassion.
“I do,” Phoebe whispered.
The rest of the ceremony seemed to pass quickly, and for this, Phoebe was grateful. She watched in mesmerized silence as Dalton slipped a ring on her finger and pledged his life and love to her. This was really happening. She was truly becoming his wife.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife in the sight of God and man,” the pastor declared. “You may kiss your bride.”
Dalton leaned down. “See, I told you I’d remedy this problem of yours.”
Before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle and much too brief. Even so, Phoebe felt the wind go out of her completely. She gazed up into Dalton’s eyes even as she felt her legs give way and the world go black.
When she awoke again, Phoebe found herself stretched out on a pew, several people gathered around her as if she were some sort of exhibit at the fair. Dalton was kneeling beside her. His worried expression quickly faded and the impish tease returned.
“I hope you won’t do that every time I kiss you.”
Everyone laughed around them, and Phoebe wanted to escape. She wished silently that God might reach down and pluck her up to heaven. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to live down the embarrassment of fainting at her first kiss.
“Are you feeling better now?” Zee asked her.
Phoebe tried to sit up, but Zee held out her hand. “Just rest a moment. It’s been a big day.”
“I’m fine,” Phoebe said. “Really I am. I’m sorry if I gave everyone a fright.”
Apparently convinced that Phoebe wasn’t about to perish before their eyes, Zee nodded and Dalton helped his wife to sit. He sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
“Are you sure you are all right?” her mother asked. She looked worried, which made Phoebe feel even worse.
“I’m perfectly fine. Honestly. You mustn’t worry.”
Her mother seemed to understand her discomfort. “Well, if you are certain.” She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Congratulations.” She turned to Dalton and kissed him, as well. “Welcome to our family.”
That seemed to serve as the cue for everyone else to offer their best wishes. Phoebe smiled and made all the right comments, but she was ever aware of the man beside her. She belonged to Dalton Lindquist now. A smile crossed her lips.
And he belongs to me.
A week later, as Evie and Joshua exchanged a kiss at the conclusion of their wedding, Dalton couldn’t help leaning over to whisper in his bride’s ear. “See, she didn’t faint. That’s how it’s done.” Phoebe elbowed him hard, but he only chuckled.
Evie had chosen for the late afternoon wedding to take place at the Lindquist house, with a reception to follow. Friends and neighbors had come to join them, and while the setting was less formal than most ceremonies, Dalton thought it perfect for his sister.
Pulling Phoebe along with him, Dalton quickly congratulated the couple, kissed his sister on the cheek, and then slipped back through the crowd of well-wishers. He drew Phoebe with him and didn’t stop until they were well away from the others. Then without warning, he kissed her with great passion.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said as he pulled away. “I’m still standing.”
Dalton laughed and kissed her again. “I think you’re quite adept at the fine art of kissing.”
Phoebe gave him a coy look. “I do rather like it.”
Dalton felt his heart skip a beat. “What say we skip the reception?” he said with a grin.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t otherwise protest. Dalton made their excuses to his mother, then found their coats and hurried Phoebe outside.
“What did you say to her?” Phoebe asked, pulling on her cloak.
“I told her we needed to check in on your mother,” he replied innocently. “Why, did you think I had something else in mind?”
Phoebe played right along. “Of course not. I couldn’t imagine you having any other thought. My mother will be so very touched at your consideration.”
He drew her close, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m a very considerate man.”
They began the long walk home arm-in-arm. “I thought Evie made a very pretty bride,” Phoebe said in a thoughtful tone. “I hope she will be very happy.”
“I think for the first time in her life, she is.” Dalton pulled Phoebe closer. “But I doubt anyone could ever be as happy as I am.”
“Unless it’s me,” Phoebe countered. “Oh, Dalton, I do love you so.”
He stopped and glanced down the road before lifting her in his arms. “And I love you.” He twirled her in a circle and declared, “I love you more each day, each hour, each minute.”
She giggled and squealed. “Put me down. I’m getting dizzy.”
“I like it when you’re dizzy,” he said, laughing. “Then you need me to help you stand.” He stopped and planted her feet back on the ground.
With a look of love that completely pierced his heart, Dalton heard her whisper, “I’ll always need you to help me stand.”
“And I always will,” he promised. “Now, we really should pick up our pace. It’s cold out here. I rather fancy snuggling with you by a warm fire.”
“After we see my mother and brothers?” she asked in a most innocent tone.
It was Dalton’s turn to gaze heavenward. “Of course,” he replied, “after we see your family.”
The visit to Phoebe’s mother took longer than Dalton had planned. She first needed him to help Theodore and Grady repair one of the back steps. Then she offered them supper, and Dalton figured it wouldn’t be polite to refuse. Afterward, Mother Robbins, as he’d come to call her, wanted to discuss the handling of her husband’s estate. Apparently the governor had given her some information regarding the situation, and she wanted to talk about it with Dalton and Phoebe.
By the time they started for home, it was nearly nine. Phoebe pressed close to his side. “It was so good of you to help Mother that way. I know you wanted to leave, but the fact that you stayed only endears you to me more.”
Dalton smiled and put his arm around her. “And that’s why I do it. So that you will love me more and more.”
She giggled and looked up to meet his gaze. “Can we still snuggle by the fire?”
“I have thought of nothing else all evening.”
Just then a commotion rose from one of the drinking establishments. There was some shouting and a bit of scuffling as one man was thrown out the door to land in the street not but a few feet away from Dalton and Phoebe.
“And stay out until you can afford to pay your tab,” the man at the door declared.
The man in the street muttered a slew of obscenities and struggled to his feet. It was only after he was standing that Dalton realized it was Yuri.
“Are you all right?” he asked his friend.
Yuri looked at him with contempt. “What do . . . do you care?” He weaved a bit, and Dalton could smell that he’d been drinking.
“I do care, and you know I do.”
“Right. You care so much.”
Dalton shook his head. “Yuri, why don’t you come home with us and have something to eat? That will help you to sober up before you go home.”
Phoebe seemed to shrink back behind Dalton. He immediately wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds by inviting Yuri without first talking to his wife.
“I don’t need your help, Dalton. I’m a man. I don’t need anybody.” Yuri started to stagger off toward the next saloon.
“Stay here,” Dalton told Phoebe. He rushed after Yuri and made the mistake of taking hold of his arm.
Yuri twisted around, bringing up his fist and nearly connecting with Dalton’s jaw. “I said I don’t need help.”
“You also don’t need another drink,” Dalton told him.
Yuri seemed to consider this a moment, then laughed. “You don’t know what I need.” He looked past Dalton to Phoebe. “Neither one of you knows what I need.” He pushed away from Dalton and headed back in the opposite direction.
For a moment, Dalton just watched. He hoped that Yuri was headed home but somehow doubted it. What had happened to his friend? What had caused him to sink so low? It had to be more than simply losing Phoebe’s affection. To hear Phoebe tell it, she’d never encouraged anything more than friendship.
“I’m sorry, Dalton,” she whispered, coming to his side. “If you need to go after him, I can just go home by myself. It’s not that far.”
“No. He’s right. I don’t know what he needs. In fact, I don’t think I know anything about him at all.”
Chapter 24
March 1890
I wish you weren’t going away,” Britta said to Yuri’s little sister, Illiyana.
Phoebe noted the mournful look of the two children. The Belikovs had announced they would leave for Russia at the end of April. She knew Dalton had helped finance the trip. Mr. Belikov hadn’t wanted to take the offering at first, but once it was agreed that it could be a loan, he was less inclined to reject it. His wife’s mother had grown ill and Darya was desperate to reach her. Illiyana was less enthusiastic.
“Perhaps you girls could write letters to each other,” Lydia encouraged. “You share all about the things you are doing in Sitka, and Illiyana can teach you all about Russia.”
“But we couldn’t play together,” Britta said with great sadness. Illiyana nodded in an equally morose spirit.
“We’ve been friends all of our life,” Britta continued. “You can’t just make two friends stop being together like that.”
Phoebe felt sorry for the girls. She knew what it was to move away and leave beloved people behind. “Your mother is right. I write letters to my friends in Vermont. I miss them terribly, but the letters are a good way to keep the friendship alive.”
“I can’t write very well,” Illiyana admitted. “And I’ll have to learn to write in Russian when we go there.”
“And I can’t read Russian,” Britta threw in.
“You two will simply have to keep up your English correspondence then,” Lydia replied. “Or Britta will have to learn Russian. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Dalton can read and speak Russian, as can your father. He could teach you.”
Phoebe noted the time. “I’d better get back to town. Dalton will be coming home for lunch. He and Kjell have certainly gotten a lot accomplished with the house. I’m so excited to think that soon we’ll have a place of our own.”
“It will be very special for all of you.”
“Oh, and thank you again for these recipes. I hope I can do them justice.”
Her mother-in-law smiled. “You are very welcome. Dalton tells me you are a wonderful cook, so I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all.”
She tucked the pieces of paper into her pocket and collected her wrap. “When I get good at them, I shall invite you to eat with us.” Frowning, Phoebe added, “But it will probably be after the new house is finished. Our apartment barely has enough room for two people.”
Lydia laughed. “That will be soon enough. Kjell tells me it won’t be long. The mild winter helped them to accomplish a great deal more than they had originally planned. You shouldn’t have long to wait now.”
Phoebe imagined the glorious log house that was being built. It excited her more than she liked to admit, to know she would have a brand-new house that no one else had ever lived in. She gave the girls a wave and headed down the long drive. It was a beautiful day and she was glad for the time alone to sort her thoughts.
Dalton had been rather moody lately, and it had more and more to do with Yuri. Frequent rumors were circulating about Yuri, and Dalton feared for his well-being. Phoebe had tried to encourage him to talk with Yuri, but whenever her husband had approached his friend, Yuri had refused to even listen.
Men can be such ninnies. Why, if I had a problem with my girl friend, I would simply go to her and demand she hear me out. Phoebe began to get an idea. What if I went to Yuri? He would have to listen to me—it wouldn’t be polite to do ot
herwise.
Her mind set, Phoebe strolled past the Sitka Industrial and Training School, where Sheldon Jackson had set up classes and living quarters for the Tlingit children. The positive proof of Jackson’s approach seemed clear. The children were learning a great many new job skills—there was a carpenter who taught the boys about building furniture, houses, and boats, as well as women who were teaching the girls housekeeping and sewing. This would definitely give them an advantage in joining the American work force in Sitka and elsewhere.
Phoebe approached Belikov Boat Builders, determined to speak to Yuri and insist he stop this nonsense. Whatever was wrong in his life, it wasn’t Dalton’s fault. There was no sense losing a good friend over issues that perhaps they could work through together.
“Hello?” Phoebe called out as she entered the shop. “Is anyone here?”
“Be right there,” Yuri called from somewhere deep in the building. When he came out and realized it was Phoebe, his smile faded. “Why are you here?”
“I want to talk to you,” she replied.
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Isn’t that too bad.” Her comment surprised him, but Phoebe didn’t stop there. “You have long had your own way, Yuri Belikov, and now it’s my turn.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what you think you have to say, but be done with it and go.”
Phoebe crossed her arms. “You and Dalton need to resolve whatever the problem between you might be. I know it isn’t me.”
“Oh, and how can you be so sure? We both liked you, and he stole you away from me.”
“Be reasonable, Yuri. You and I were nothing more than friends. I’d like to be your friend now. You are important to Dalton. He speaks about you all the time. He doesn’t understand what’s happened to you.”
Yuri shrugged and pretended to busy himself at one of the tables. Phoebe came to stand directly in front of him. “Yuri, what is wrong? Is it your mother and father leaving for Russia?”
“They can go. I hardly care. I have this shop now. My father sold the last of his big boats, and he has the money he needs to leave—so let him go.”
[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain Page 22