“That’s not such a great example, you know. That cub had to be put to death. No one is going to put the children to death. They need a home and love.”
“But they aren’t yours to worry over. They’re Yuri’s, and no matter how much you might wish they were yours as well, they aren’t. Neither is he.”
Britta’s head snapped up and she locked eyes with her friend. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
“Of course not,” Kay said in an unapologetic manner. “Because you know I’m right. You’re still in love with Yuri, and now that he’s come back all sober and trusting God, you love him even more.”
“Well, why not?” Britta raised her chin. “He’s a good man. I’m the only one who has ever seen his real potential. I’m the only one who knows the real Yuri. Deep inside, he’s got a great deal of love and goodness.”
“But that doesn’t mean he can—or should—share it with you,” Kay said softly.
Wringing out the little dress harder than necessary, Brittta huffed. “I told you that I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Kay shrugged. “Just because you aren’t talking about it doesn’t mean it’s not a problem. I thought since I know what’s bothering you, I’d be the likely one to talk to.” She picked up the basket. “Maybe when you get done pouting about it all, you can tell me what you’re thinking. But I guess I already know.”
She walked off, leaving Britta to stare after her retreating form. It just wasn’t fair, Britta thought. It wasn’t fair that Yuri couldn’t see how much he needed her—how much the children needed her. Somehow she would just have to convince him. Somehow she would have to get Yuri to fall in love with her.
Chapter 7
There was nothing Zee’s cabin needed that couldn’t be accomplished with a little cleaning and airing out. Britta and Kay did most of the work over parts of two days while Lydia watched Darya. Laura was ever at Britta’s side, trying to do her part. Britta gave her a rug to pound on the front porch, but Laura didn’t want to be that far from her mama.
“Mama come wit me,” Laura demanded.
“Now, Laura, you know that I have to finish cleaning the kitchen,” Britta explained.
“I clean it, too,” Laura said, picking up a dish towel. She went to where Britta had pulled dishes from the cupboard and reached for a plate.
“No, Laura. Those are too big.” Britta took a stack of saucers. “You wipe these.” She set the dishes on the table and put Laura in the chair. “Sit right here and dust them off.”
Kay bustled in about that time. “I’ve scrubbed down the bedrooms and made up the beds.”
“Thank you. I think once I finish here, we’ll be set.”
“I’ll head back then, to help your mother start supper.” Kay looked at Laura and then back to Britta. “I think you have plenty of good help.”
“Laura is a very good helper,” Britta said, praising the child.
The little girl smiled and held up a dish. “I help Mama.”
Kay frowned but said nothing. Britta knew what she was thinking. Laura absolutely refused to call her anything else. Not wanting to discuss it with Kay, Britta changed the subject.
“Has Mother said anything about hearing from Father? We should have had a telegram by now.”
“She didn’t say. I know she wants to go into town today. Maybe she can send a message and see if they’ve left yet.” Kay looked as though she wanted to say more, but instead squared her shoulders and headed for the door. “I’ll be at the house if you need me.”
Britta let her go without another word. She knew Kay’s opinion of the situation, and she doubted talking about it with anyone would help. Unless, of course, that person was Yuri.
She longed to speak to him regarding Laura and Darya—to help him see how important it was that he not disrupt the girls in their newfound security. Laura was finally thriving. She was learning new things by the day. Britta was reading to her every night, and Laura expressed her curiosity about what the letters meant. Mother had assured Britta that if Laura was asking such questions, it was more than right to teach her the alphabet, and so they had begun on those lessons, as well.
Laura was a bright little girl. Her lack of attention and love had only made her more determined to please those who spent time with her. While comfortable with Lydia and Kay, at least in the daytime, evenings were still a trial. Laura wanted Britta to stay with her once she went to bed and threw horrible fits if denied. Britta had tried everything she could think of to give the child comfort, but nothing seemed to work. Often she would sit in the rocker beside Laura and read until the child fell asleep. It wasn’t ideal, but at least they’d progressed from Britta having to actually be in bed with Laura.
“I’ve brought some wood,” Yuri announced as he entered the house. “Place feels kind of chilly.”
“It is,” Britta agreed. She smiled at Yuri. “Why don’t you go ahead and lay a fire for us?”
He nodded and knelt beside the hearth. Britta watched as he placed the wood in a crisscross pattern. “Good thing your mother had me clean out the chimney,” he said. “Five years of sitting idle left the birds thinking they could nest there.”
“I know Mother appreciates all that you’ve done. You’re good to have around—especially with Father and Dalton gone. Gordon comes and helps from time to time, but he can’t do everything.”
Yuri straightened as the fire caught, popping and crackling. “I was hoping we might talk.” He leaned back on his heels. “I want to know more about your orchestra offer.”
“There’s really nothing to tell. I was offered the position, but it requires more than I’m willing to give.”
“Such as?”
She met his steely eyes. Britta grew uncomfortable—almost fearful that he might guess the real trouble surrounding the subject.
“I believe I stated that already. I would have to move to England. Besides, we have more pressing matters. The children are more important.”
Yuri got to his feet, and Laura held up a saucer. “I help. See?”
“You’re doing a good job, Laura,” he told her.
She smiled and went back to work while Yuri crossed the room to Britta. “Maybe we could talk in private when Laura has her nap?”
“It’s nearly that time now. Perhaps I could get Mother or Kay to put her down, and then we can discuss whatever is on your mind.”
“All right.” Yuri took a seat at the table. “I’ll wait here.”
Britta nodded. “Come along, Laura. I think Grandma Lydia has some cookies and milk for you, and then it will be nap time.”
“I like cookies,” Laura told Yuri.
He smiled. “I do, too.”
Britta gathered the child in her arms. What was Yuri thinking? Surely if he spent enough time with his children, he wouldn’t want to send them away. Of course, Darya wasn’t his.
If only she could get Yuri to see how much they needed him . . . how much they all needed him.
Yuri waited patiently for Britta’s return. He liked the homey feel of the cabin and noted that the women had put it in order nicely. New heavy drapes hung at the window. They would keep out the long evening hours of light in the summer and insulate against the cold in winter.
Walking around the house, he peered into the bedrooms and found them suitable. Someone had made up the beds with beautiful quilts. He wondered if Britta had helped sew them.
She’s been gone so long, he reasoned. She wouldn’t have had time. Still, he ran his hand over the beautiful star pattern of burgundy and gold. This was a real home—nothing like the cabin he’d shared with Marsha.
He walked back to the kitchen, where Britta had been putting the cupboards in order. He smiled at the thought of Laura helping. Here, he could imagine being happy. What would it be like to stay on indefinitely? Lydia said they had no other purpose for the cabin—at least not at this point. Perhaps it was the solution to his problem.
“You are certainly deep in tho
ught,” Britta said, taking the seat opposite him at the table. “I said your name twice and you didn’t hear me.”
“I have a lot on my mind, as you well know.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you wanted to talk. I think it’s important to weigh all the options available to us.”
“Us?” he asked.
Britta blushed. “Well, I am the one caring for the children. I figured to be a part of this decision.”
“I see. Well, I suppose that makes sense.”
“Yuri, let me be blunt. I know you’re just getting your feet under you. I know things are so awkward right now, but in time, that will pass.”
“Britta, I can’t have you—”
“Please, just hear me out,” she interrupted.
She fidgeted in her chair, smoothing her pale green sleeves as if they were out of place. Yuri could see this was difficult for her. “Go ahead, then.”
“Thank you. I just want you to be reasonable about this and not make rash decisions. I feel it’s important for you to know that you have so many people who care about you. I, for one, want to do whatever I can to make life better for you and the girls.”
“I can see that. You’ve already done so much.”
“But only because I care about your well-being and theirs. I don’t feel I have to do anything; rather, I want to do it. You need to know that.”
“You can’t throw your life and opportunities away on me and my problems.”
Britta put her hands on her hips. “Laura and Darya aren’t problems, they are babies. They are helpless little girls who need their father’s love.”
“They need a family,” Yuri replied.
“Indeed they do, but with both of us helping them,” Britta said, pausing to glance his way, “they would have a family . . . of sorts. My mother already loves them and has them call her Grandma Lydia. I know my father will feel the same.”
“But, Britta, you deserve to have a family of your own. You can’t have the freedom to court suitors and enjoy your youth with two children at your side.”
“My youth? Yuri, I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in October. I’m hardly a girl anymore. I’ve spent the last five years enjoying my youth, and now I’m more than ready to settle down.”
“Which is my point exactly.” Yuri got up from the table and began to pace. “Britta, you deserve to find someone to love and have children of your own. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me and for the girls.”
“Then don’t take it away from me,” she implored. “I can’t explain it, but I need this. I need the children—they make me feel . . . well, they make me feel happy. I enjoy working with them.”
Yuri could see the anguish in her expression, and he hated that he was the cause of the pain. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Then give it time,” she begged. “Get to know the children before you decide.”
“But Darya isn’t mine,” he countered. “I don’t think I want to know her. She’s got a father somewhere.”
“Are you suggesting you try to locate him?”
He considered that for a moment. “No. Given Marsha’s penchant for promiscuity, it could be almost anyone. That’s why I was never sure Laura was mine until seeing her. She looks a lot like Illiyana, don’t you think?”
“I don’t remember Illiyana at that age,” Britta replied. “In fact, I can hardly remember what she looked like when she went away. I suppose when I heard that she had died, I tried to assuage my pain by forgetting.”
“I tried that with liquor,” Yuri admitted. “It didn’t work well for me.” He returned to the chair. “I had so much I wanted to forget. I’ve made so many mistakes.”
“We all have,” Britta mumbled.
He studied her for a moment, then asked, “Want to talk about it?”
She looked startled at the question and then shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. I just have my regrets, as well. We all do.” She got to her feet and went back to putting dishes in the cupboards.
Yuri started to say something when Kay bounded into the cabin. “Come quick,” she told them. “There’s bad news.”
Lydia listened to all Evie and Josh had to say about the news out of San Francisco. Apparently, the entire place had been leveled by a terrible earthquake. Of course, given that people were given to exaggerating reports, Lydia didn’t know if the situation was truly that dire.
“We heard it from the telegraph office,” Lydia’s stepdaughter told them, “so we don’t have too many details. It happened yesterday morning.”
“Perhaps we should send a telegram to Kjell,” Lydia said. She didn’t want to assume the worst without having proof.
“You can’t. They can’t receive. The lines are down now,” Josh replied. “What little information has been coming in suggests that no one is being allowed in or out. And if Kjell and Dalton were still there, they probably can’t get word to us.”
“I suppose not.” Lydia drew a deep breath and hoped to settle the panic that threatened to rise up in her. “I guess all we can do is wait for word.”
“Hopefully it won’t be as bad as it sounds,” Evie replied. She reached for Lydia’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You know how people like to make things sound worse than they really are. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon. They may already be on their way home and have no knowledge of the earthquake.”
Yuri nodded. “They are in God’s hands no matter, and we must continue to pray for their safe return.”
Lydia met his gaze. She was glad to have him there. “Has anyone told Phoebe yet?”
“We did,” Evie told her. “We stopped there first.”
Lydia got to her feet. “I should go to her. She’ll be quite upset.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kay said, getting to her feet.
“We can drive you,” Evie said, also standing. “I’m sure that more news will come in as it’s available. Perhaps we could even contact someone elsewhere in California to see if we can get additional information.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lydia said, taking up her shawl. “I know someone in Sacramento. I could telegraph them and see if they can give us insight.” She turned to Britta. “Can you tend to supper?”
“Yes, Mother. I’ll see to everything, and Yuri is here to help if I need anything else.”
Lydia looked to Yuri and once again felt a sense of relief. “I’m glad you’re with us.” She pushed aside thoughts of how bad the situation might be. There was no sense in borrowing trouble. Kjell and Dalton could very well be perfectly fine.
Then again, they might be dead.
“I’m sorry about this,” Yuri told Britta.
She nodded, still unable to comprehend the news. “I don’t know what to think. Earthquakes can be . . . devastating.” She looked at him, hoping he might contradict her comment. When he didn’t, she continued. “But Father and Dalton are very sensible, and Mother says they were staying in the finest hotel in San Francisco. Surely that would afford a great deal of protection.”
She got to her feet and turned away as tears came to her eyes. What if they were dead? What if they were buried under the rubble, fighting for their lives? It was too horrible to think about. A sob escaped her and Britta buried her face in her hands.
Hearing Yuri’s chair move, she was certain he would come to her. Even so, when he took her in his arms and turned her to face him, Britta wasn’t ready for the charge that coursed through her. She cried all the harder, and he pulled her against him.
“It will be all right,” he promised. “God hasn’t forgotten them or us. We will pray for their safety and return.”
Britta buried her face against his chest and let her tears flow. Since returning home, she hadn’t allowed her emotions to best her, and now with this news, it seemed that everything had come rushing to the surface. Why did life have to be so difficult? Why were there so many painful choices and situations? She clung to him, as though letting go might foreve
r banish her to some unknown void.
I love him so dearly, she thought. I need him more than ever, and he can’t even see how much he means to me.
Chapter 8
Yuri tried hard to get to know the girls better. With Laura it was easy. She was his, and she was a fun-loving child. Often she would come and take his hand, pulling him along to see some new discovery.
“See, Papa,” she would say and point to a bird or a rock that she found particularly interesting. Sometimes she would stop and bid him listen to the wind in the trees. With a smile as big as the sun, she would look up at him and whisper, “Pretty.”
He found his affection for her growing each day. In the past, Marsha’s jealousy over his interest in Laura had caused her to treat the child in a hateful, vindictive manner. She not only treated Laura poorly, but she taunted Yuri, telling him that she wasn’t even sure Laura was his daughter. Yuri hadn’t cared, however, and that served only to cause Marsha to treat Laura all the worse. Perhaps that was why he’d eventually stopped trying. He remembered when he’d tried to help Laura learn to walk. Marsha had been angry at the attention he’d given the child, and without warning she snatched Laura up and tied her into a chair, where the little girl sat for hours on end. Yuri had tried to intercede—to point out that Laura needed to get down and play, but Marsha told him to go back to what he knew best—his bottle.
Yuri shook off the memory. Marsha was gone. She couldn’t come between him and his daughter now. He was free to love Laura, free to give her all of the attention he would have offered back then.
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