Deep Harbor

by Lisa T. Bergren

  She gave it a sad smile. Because Peder had been so handsome, so alive. Because they had been so happy together. And because Karl and Peder had never made amends.

  With one last glance at her beloved’s picture, she slid it back in the secretary where she had found it and looked at the maps on the wall. Karl’s log was open, notes written in his clean, manly script and small emblems artfully drawn. She had never known he could sketch so well. Peder had always enjoyed keeping his own logs, so Elsa had never seen Karl’s work. She paged backward through the volume, pausing over drawings of other ships, whales, and dolphins, as well as coastlines and the like.

  The main door opened with a swollen shudder. Guiltily, Elsa turned back the pages to where she had found it opened and then went to the study door. Karl stood there, dripping wet and grinning. She raced into his arms, feeling as though she had never been happier to see anyone in all her life.

  “Oh, Karl, Karl! You’re well! You’re safe!” She pulled back to make sure there was no blood, no wounds, then embraced him again. His arms wrapped around her, and he closed the door on a dozen smiling sailors’ faces. Elsa blushed, but she did not care. All that mattered was that her friend was alive and well. Or was that it? Suddenly she remembered what had happened the last time they had encountered Mason Dutton together. Their kiss. She dropped her arms from him and stepped away, fighting to meet his gaze, but uncertain. What did he want from her this time? She was no longer a married woman, and he had saved her life.

  “Thank you, Karl. Thank you for saving me,” she said, going to the chair and sitting on the wool blanket that she had left there. She watched as he retrieved a blanket for himself and dried his shoulder-length hair. His clothing clung to his well-formed body, making her aware of the muscles beneath.

  He came to her with a guileless smile and knelt before her. “Elsa, Elsa,” he said, placing a roughened hand on her cheek, and waiting until she met his gaze. “I could not do anything else. I could never be anywhere else. I am your friend.” Gently, he dropped his hand.

  Friend. She shook her head at her stupidity and nodded. She returned his tender touch by placing her own hand on his cheek as he had done before her. “You are indeed the finest friend a woman could have. Thank you, Karl. If you had not come, I doubt that I would have left Mason’s ship alive.”

  Karl grinned and rose. “I don’t know about that. The Heroine of the Horn has made a name for herself as a captain known for bravery and valor.”

  Elsa grimaced. “I grow tired of the legend of the Heroine of the Horn.”

  “We cannot stop the forces that have begun.”

  “No, I suppose we cannot. Karl, did you lose many men?”

  “Two of the Emperor’s men died. I have two wounded.” His look was jubilant. “I never expected that God would smile so clearly upon us. All went just as planned.”

  Elsa shook her head and returned his smile. “And Mason? I heard a shot, just as we left the captain’s quarters.”

  Karl turned away, as if to brush off the memory. “He made a move. I shot him in the thigh.” He turned back toward her. “If the Emperor’s navy does not kill every man aboard, it is likely that Dutton will die before the day is done anyway. He was losing a lot of blood.”

  Elsa looked down, surprised at the shame that flooded through her for being jubilant at such news. What kind of Christian was she to rejoice in another’s death, regardless of what he had done? “I cannot help myself,” she said lowly. “I am glad that he will no longer be a threat.”

  Karl walked over to her and lifted her chin. “He threatened you.”

  “He did. He told me he would make me his captive bride.”

  Anger flooded Karl’s face. “He deserves a painful death.”

  “Let us not concentrate on that. Let’s not celebrate another’s pain. Let’s celebrate being free.”

  Karl met her gaze and nodded. “You are right. But we will not celebrate until we know Mason Dutton will never threaten us again.”

  twenty-eight

  August 1887

  The Bergensers had no idea what to do with Tora Anders. She had once been a part of them, but as a snobby child. Now she was again among them, but as a woman with a much quieter spirit. The change in her seemed too dramatic to believe, and thus the Bergensers, while treating her civilly, were still rather cool in their approach to Tora.

  “It’s distrust, plain and simple,” Nora said one day, under her breath, to Kaatje as they watched Tora struggle to make conversation with Eira Nelson across the churchyard. “Can’t say I blame them, though. While I’m glad for you that she’s of some help, I don’t understand why she is here. Is she just using you, biding her time until she can go off and chase her dreams again?”

  Kaatje swallowed hard, feeling guilty that Nora was merely voicing her own thoughts, her own doubts about Tora’s sincerity. How dedicated was Tora to her new path in life? “She says she was called to be here,” Kaatje said simply.

  “The only call Tora Anders has ever heeded is a siren’s call.”

  Kaatje turned toward Nora. “She has changed. I have seen evidence of it. And she’s been a tremendous help to me.”

  Nora snorted and eyed Kaatje. “Perhaps. But for how long? I don’t trust her. Not as far as I can throw her, anyway. Which isn’t all that far these days.”

  Kaatje understood her friend’s harsh judgment as she smiled at Nora’s burgeoning belly. She expected their fifth child in a month’s time. Indeed, Kaatje could not remain angry over anyone’s reaction to Tora. This summer had torn down her own preconceived ideas of who Tora once was and rebuilt them with the knowledge of what she knew to be true about the young woman now. Yet it remained a constant battle. Old thoughts and fears haunted her mind and preyed upon her at weak moments. Everything would be going fine, and suddenly Kaatje would remember that Tora had once been her husband’s lover. She’d be tucking Jessica in at night and it would strike her that Jessie was Tora’s child, not hers. Would Tora grow to love her as Kaatje had, with the love of a mother? Would she come to Kaatje, wanting Jess for her own?

  Still, they had managed to forge an uneasy camaraderie over the last ten weeks, slowly finding common ground and walking it, each trying to stay away from the edges. They found common ground in the land they farmed—thirty acres this year with Tora’s help—the weeds they plucked, the ditches they dug, the water they hauled, the animals they fed, the children they cared for, and lastly, their plans for the fall.

  For in September, they would sail for Alaska.

  “You must be joking,” said Birger Nelson, when they told the Bergensers.

  “It is insane. Two women and two children, heading to the Alaskan wilderness!” said Nora.

  “Why go?” asked Matthew. “You have a good farm, a good home. An enviable crop this year! Why strike out for the unknown?”

  “It is inviting disaster!” Einar announced.

  “It is where God would have me,” Kaatje said, silencing them all. “It is where God has called me. And apparently, Tora is willing to accompany me. I could never have gone alone. But with her help, I think we can make it. Look at our farm! That extra ten acres planted this year will help us put away a nest egg that will see us through the toughest Alaskan winter.”

  “And it won’t necessarily be tough,” Tora said quietly. “I know how to run a business. From what I hear, there is more than enough room for new businesses up there. We could earn much more than Kaatje ever would get alone on her farm.”

  The Bergensers listened to Tora’s quiet, confident speech, but said nothing. They still distrusted her, like a stranger in their midst, the crazy cousin that everyone tolerated, the distant relation of whom everyone was ashamed but no one would admit to it. Kaatje knew Tora sensed this; it was part of the reason Tora tried so hard to be nothing but admirable. But she also knew with certainty that Tora’s entire goal remained to serve Kaatje. Never had she wavered. And gradually, Kaatje’s trust grew. Gradually, her appreciation of the ch
ange God had wrought in Tora grew as well.

  The thought made Kaatje’s hands perspire in excitement. Never had she considered that plans to sail to the Alaska territory, hike the infamous Chilkoot Pass, and enter the interior of the roughest country known to man, would be part of God’s plan for her. She stood outside one hot August night and stared at a full moon. That was part of the beauty of God, she told herself. Just when she thought she had figured out what she was to do and how she was to do it, he took her to a new path.

  Tora interrupted her thoughts as she pulled the cottage door shut with a familiar scraping noise and joined Kaatje beside the well. “The girls are asleep.” Then, “It is a beautiful night, is it not?” She nudged Kaatje’s elbow, indicating she had brought her wrap out to her.

  Kaatje shook her head. “No thank you. I’m still hot after this day,” she said. “And yes, it is beautiful. Do you think it will look the same in Alaska?”

  Tora gazed upward before answering. “It looked the same in Bergen, and in Camden-by-the-Sea, and in Duluth, and in Helena. It is like God. Never changing. But always showing us a different aspect of himself.”

  Kaatje smiled and glanced at Tora in the moonlight. “You amaze me, Tora. You constantly surprise me.”

  Tora returned her gaze. “But do you trust me?”

  “I’m beginning to.”

  “How long will it take to forgive me?”

  Kaatje thought about her words. “As I told you the day you arrived, I’d forgiven you a long time ago. But it is like an old wound. Do you understand? Every time you move in a new direction, it pains you, and you have to stop and acknowledge it. But eventually, it hurts less and less.”

  Tora nodded, and they stood staring upward for some time. “Kaatje, what if Soren is alive? What will it be like if you find him there, living, but never writing to you?”

  Kaatje cocked an eyebrow. “I think he is dead. Somehow, I think it is true. He went on a packing trip and never returned to his cabin.” Surprisingly, uttering such frank words did not feel like a laceration of her heart. Perhaps she was getting over Soren.

  “But what if he—?”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I suppose I’d first take a switch to his behind.”

  Tora laughed in surprise.

  Kaatje tensed, needing to voice difficult words. “Are you still in love with him?”

  Tora didn’t respond right away, apparently choosing her words. “Kaatje, I’m sorry. I was never in love with him. I know that sounds horrible.”

  Kaatje paused, then said, “Yes. Yes it does. But it does make it easier if he lives, does it not?”

  Tora let out a little breath, as if laughing. “Yes. That is true. I am in love with another. Not your husband.”

  “Trent Storm.”

  “Yes.”

  “He has not come to see you.”

  “By my request. He waits in Seattle. I hope to see him before we go, but I knew we needed this time to … find our way.”

  Kaatje nodded, discovering yet another surprising angle of Tora Anders to admire. She had forsaken her love, and obviously was prepared to walk away from him, all to go with Kaatje to Alaska. Would she have been as strong had their situations been reversed? “Does it not pain you to leave him?”

  Tora sighed. “It feels as if my heart is about to tear in two. But it is the right path. If Trent and I are meant to be, we will marry when I return from Alaska.” She reached out to take Kaatje’s hand and waited until Kaatje met her eyes. “It is right.”

  “I know,” Kaatje whispered. Finally she understood in her heart what Tora so clearly knew from the start—God was leading them. They didn’t know exactly where it would take them or what they would discover along the way. But they both knew they had to go, and trust that he would meet all their needs. “Good night, Tora.”

  “Good night.”

  “And Tora?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am glad you came to me when you did. I am glad you are going with me.”

  “As am I.”

  Tora left Kaatje’s side and made her way to the new part of the barn, in which they had made her a makeshift bedroom. Ever the hostess, it had clearly bothered Kaatje at first to have her sleep in the barn. But Tora had been firm. It would be for the best if she had her own space, and they had theirs. She had not come intending to disrupt the family’s life, but to help in some way. And it would not be of help to move in on their private time.

  With some work, the space was all Tora needed. It was warmer and drier than her tent at the lumber camp, and the straw tick was more comfortable than the lumpy mattress she had at camp too. In the corner was her only trunk, a gift from Trent. In the other was a hastily built table and chair. She sat down at it now, pulled a clean sheet of paper from the pile in the corner, and uncapped the ink. How she missed Trent! She hoped writing to him would ease her pain.

  10 August 1887

  Dearest Trent,

  Thank you for honoring my decision to remain apart these long weeks. Now I ask if you can come to me, and soon. In September, Kaatje and I will travel to the Alaska territory.

  She paused over the paper, knowing that this news would surprise and anger Trent. He undoubtedly hoped that her sojourn to the Skagit Valley would soon end and they could marry. It would come as a rude awakening to discover that Tora intended to go farther along this path she had chosen.

  I understand that you will find this news disappointing, my love. It is not my own desire to go farther from you than I already have. It is distressing and worrisome, and yet, I can do nothing else but this. For it was to Kaatje’s side I was called and with her I must stay. I sensed from the start that we would not remain in the valley. I had little idea we were to go so far. But if I am to follow my heart and my Lord as my soul begs me to do, what can I say but yes? Perhaps it will be for but a season. Perhaps it will be longer.

  Again Tora paused, agonizing over her word choice. Was she truly ready to do what she was about to do? Deciding, she put pen to paper again.

  I feel I must give you the opportunity to leave me and this relationship forever, Trent. Make no mistake. I am in love with you. More clearly now than ever before. But God has taken me on a path that does not bring me toward you, but away from you. Your home, your business, is in Minnesota. The Alaska territory is so far. No doubt you tire of following me about the country, waiting for me to come to my senses. Hopefully, you understand I walk this path solely out of a desire to be within my newfound God’s will. With his help, you will understand why I do what I must do. But simply because I have been called along this path does not mean you shall be also. If your heart takes you elsewhere, I will endeavor to do my best to understand, and to let you go as you have let me go.

  Tora closed her eyes in anguish, wondering at the pain that seared her heart. What if he did as she bid him? What if he left Seattle and returned home to Minnesota? What if he gave up on Tora Anders and their fragile dream of what they might be together? Dear God, she thought, I have wondered at the pain I have survived. I have rejoiced at what you have brought me through. But what you ask of me is killing me. Is this truly of you?

  She opened her eyes and stared at the script drying in blotches beneath her pen. What would Trent say? What would he feel? And how on earth were they ever to reunite if God kept sending her farther and farther away from him?

  Trent walked up the Butler Hotel’s marble steps, nodding at the doorman. It had been weeks since he had heard from Tora, yet still he hoped to hear this day. He had gone for a walk downtown as he did every morning, enjoying the sounds of the city awakening to a new day. In a few minutes, he was to meet with Bradford Bresley, with whom he had been doing more and more business. He liked the man, and therefore looked forward to their meeting. Moreover, it would help to distract his attention from the lobby desk, where the mail often arrived midmorning.

  Brad was early and stood up from his armchair as Trent moved forward to greet him. “Brad! Such a plea
sure to see you again!”

  “I’m glad as well, Trent,” Brad said, shaking his hand with a friendly smile. “I see there is a men’s meeting room,” he said, indicating the dark-paneled drawing room behind him.

  “Yes. Would you care to meet there? We could have a cup of coffee and catch up on things.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Trent led the way with Bradford just behind his left shoulder. He spoke briefly to the host, and the distinguished servant led them to two velvet-covered armchairs that flanked a vibrant fire in the marble fireplace. “Perfect,” Trent said, placing a bill in the man’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir. I will be back shortly with your coffee.”

  Brad sat down, legs spread, ever confident and relaxed. Trent liked the way the younger man made him feel the same. “Business in the Skagit Valley continues to boom,” Brad said. “We have three steamers up and running out of the harbor there, bringing goods to the valley, and returning with the harvest. It is just beginning. Rest of the year, we’ll haul people to and fro and still do well for ourselves.”

  “Fine, fine,” Trent said. “What brings you down to Seattle?”

  “Well, now that that operation is up and running, I’m considering heading north.”

  “North? To Bellingham? Or Anacortes?”

  “Alaska. The Alaska territory.”

  Trent chuckled. “Don’t tell me you have gold fever.”

  “Nah. I’m not that foolish. But my wife is itching to join me out west, and rather than bring her here, where I have a business established, I’m thinking I’d rather take her to the new territory, where we can build a home and where there is more than enough business to pursue. I hear if one goes with resources,” he paused as the servant returned to pour them both coffee, “one can make quite a go of it.”