Evie rambled about one thing or another as they made their way through the house and up the grand staircase. She told Dalton stories of playing on the stairs while the young maids polished the newels and banister. When they came to the second floor, she showed Dalton where Lydia’s room had been.
“It’s still very much as it was,” she told him. “I think the bedding and rugs have changed, but the draperies look much the same.”
Dalton could see there was great wear on the panels. “It would seem so.” He fought back thoughts of his father beating his mother—of the horrible night he’d been conceived. How could any man be so cruel? Would he grow older and turn out to be like Floyd Gray? His brothers had mirrored their father’s heartlessness. Was it hereditary?
“Are you all right?” Evie asked.
“Like you, I have my demons. Mother told me how cruel our father was to her. She said I was not conceived in love, but rather as the result of his attack.”
It was Evie’s turn to offer comfort. “I’m so sorry, Dalton. I cannot lie and say her life here was pleasant. I don’t believe she ever knew a happy day here. If not enduring Father’s temper, she had to contend with us—her stepchildren. Our brothers would not offer any respect, much less love. Jeannette hated her for taking our mother’s place, but I loved her. Even then.”
Evie’s eyes welled with tears. “I was so young when Mother died, and the manner of her death filled me with despair and fear. I just knew Father would find out I’d seen him, and then he would do the same to me.”
“My mother was so young when she married Father,” Dalton said. “She must have been quite afraid.”
“I know there were times when she was sorely abused, but Lydia always reached out to me. She knew that the others would offer her nothing, but I wanted her tenderness, and she needed my love. We couldn’t be open about it, of course. Jeannette would box my ears whenever she found me in Lydia’s company. She would drag me away on some pretense and tell me that I was in no manner to be kind to that woman. To love Lydia, Jeannette said, was to hate our mother. And if we hated our mother, we would suffer a great punishment from God.”
“And did you believe her?”
Evie drew a deep breath and sighed. “I think I did at times. Remember, in the back of my mind was the fear that Father would kill me. Part of the reason I’ve wanted to be with Lydia these years is because she alone understands my painful life—the horror of being forced to marry a much older man, whom you didn’t know, much less love.”
They moved from the room and back toward the staircase. “Mother tried to make a pleasant home, but Father would have no part of it. Jeannette told me that Mother often tried to fuss over Marston and Mitchell. She tried to show them affection and tenderness, and Father accused her of trying to weaken his sons and make them into milk sops.”
“It’s so sad,” Dalton said as they approached the third floor.
“There but for the grace of God, it might have been me.”
Evie nodded. “I’ve often thought of that, too. I’m glad God gave you a better father. Kjell is a remarkable man, and he’s given me hope that not all men are vicious and cruel.”
Glancing to the right, she pointed. “This floor was mostly for the servants.” Turning to the left, she moved down the hall and Dalton quickly stepped to match her strides. When they reached the end of the hall she stopped. “To the left are the servants’ stairs.”
“And this?” Dalton asked as he pointed to the right.
She looked at the door and frowned. “This goes to the attic.” Evie seemed to collect her thoughts for a moment. “When I was a little girl I loved to sneak up here. I would dig through the old trunks and crates and find all kinds of interesting things. I also liked it because it was so quiet and because my mother would also come up here.”
Evie reached out and turned the knob. The door moaned and creaked as she swung it open. There was a glow of light at the top of the stairs. “Shall we?” she asked.
Dalton nodded and offered her a smile. “I’m right here with you.”
They climbed the stairs, Evie moving with deliberate slowness. She seemed to be mentally preparing herself for what she would find at the top.
“I was playing up here, as I shouldn’t have been. My mother came up. There was a little walkway on the roof. They called it a widow’s walk. She liked to go there at times just to get away from her sorrows, I think.” When they stepped onto the attic floor, Evie pointed. “It’s just over there.”
Dalton noted the door that led outside. There were several large oval windows that allowed light to flood the room.
“Mother was out there, and I didn’t let her know I was here. Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t have died that day.”
“Or maybe he would have killed you both,” Dalton said matter-of-factly.
“I know. I’ve often thought of that, too. I’d been caught in the attic before, and Father always whipped me soundly. He said the attic was for the servants to tend, not for a Gray’s daughter to play in.”
“What happened that day, Evie?”
“My mother was crying. She often did when she came up here. She would pace and weep knowing that no one would hear her. I always felt that in my knowing, it gave us a special bond. Mama wouldn’t have wanted me to know, so I never said anything. But I knew that there was something that tied us together. Something much deeper than any of the others could possibly share with her.”
Evie moved to the door and tried to open it. It stuck momentarily, then yielded to her firm hand. Crisp September air rushed in. Evie had said earlier that morning that it was unusually chilly for that time of year, and Dalton couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like at home.
“I watched her for a while, then heard someone coming. It was Father. I barely hid in time. He went out there and embraced Mama, and just for a minute I thought maybe everything would be all right. When he kissed her and lifted her into his arms, I thought it so very romantic. Such a silly little girl notion.” She turned back to Dalton. “It didn’t last, because in the next moment he threw her over the side railing. She fell four floors to her death. I saw the entire thing from this window.” She pointed to the large oval to her left. “I was so afraid. So certain someone would find out that I’d seen it all. I couldn’t sleep for weeks afterward. The doctor told my nanny that it was not at all unusual for a child to mourn the loss of a mother in such a manner. They gave me laudanum, and no one else gave it a second thought.”
“I’m so sorry, Evie. What a horrible thing for a child or anyone else to endure.” Dalton came to her and took hold of her upper arms.
“But it’s over. You never have to worry about what you know—what you saw. You told me your mother loved Jesus most fervently. She has a place in heaven and knows real peace and joy now.”
“Yes.” Evie closed her eyes and nodded. “I think I can finally leave it here. All the sadness and regret. All my childhood sorrows.”
She opened her eyes again and smiled. “They can remain here with the rest of the unwanted things from the past.”
“I believe you are right.” Dalton hugged his sister. “Now let’s go home.”
Phoebe took herself for a walk along the shore, not far from the Jackson school for the natives. She loved the tall spruce and hemlock and the way they shaded the area, creating an almost protective ceiling of evergreen boughs. The scent was heady, clean, and refreshing. It was here that she could actually imagine coming to love Sitka.
A light misty rain was falling, but under the canopy of green she was sheltered. The pungent aroma of mossy earth mingled with the trees, beckoning her deeper into the forest. A totem, one of the artful creations of the Tlingit people, stood as a silent sentry, but otherwise there was no sign of man.
She found a rock to sit upon. The silence embraced her, and Phoebe considered her circumstances. Yuri had come around, apologetic and begging her not to think ill of him or Dalton. He told her in an almost frantic manner that he an
d Dalton had made competitions and contests out of everything. They hadn’t meant to show Phoebe disrespect by adding her to the mix.
Phoebe had agreed to forgive their indiscretion but told Yuri she didn’t wish to see him for a time. She needed to let her heart figure out what it wanted. She needed time to adjust to her life in Alaska. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he agreed that he would stay away until Dalton returned.
“He’s due home soon,” she murmured. She felt such joy at the thought that it seemed quite clear what her heart wanted. Still, there was that nagging reminder that Dalton loved this place and its solitude. He had no desire to ever leave.
“And I’ll only be here as long as Mr. Knapp is governor,” she reminded herself.
If the president should call him back or Knapp should fall ill and need to be replaced, they would leave the area, most likely never to return. Phoebe considered that thought for a moment. What if she did give her heart to Dalton and they married? Could she bear it when her family left Alaska?
“I’m being so silly. Dalton may return from his trip and have no desire to court me at all. He could have even met someone and married her.”
She frowned. Surely he wouldn’t have done that. Many men did go south to find brides, and a lot of them married much quicker than Phoebe found acceptable, but surely Dalton wasn’t one of those.
Doubts lingered in her mind as she took up her walk once again. She made her way from the forest to the shore and watched as the water edged closer and closer. The tide was returning. Would it bring Dalton with it?
Chapter 16
This is lovely work,” Zee declared, examining each girl’s piecework.
Phoebe flushed from her praise. So many of Phoebe’s teachers had been harsh, indifferent as to whether the students enjoyed their work. Zee seemed to understand the value of instruction that was surrounded by praise and enthusiasm for the task.
“You can make smaller stitches by not angling the needle so much,” she told Eleanor. “See, if you keep the needle more vertical and just barely break the surface, you can bring it back up in a tighter fashion.” Eleanor nodded and tried again. Zee smiled. “Much better.”
To fill her empty hours, Phoebe had been spending time with Zee and her class of quilters. Candle supplies were sadly diminishing, and Phoebe and her mother had decided to save some supplies and not use up everything before the next shipment arrived. The next steamer was due to arrive around the twentieth, which was still a few days away. Hopefully, it would bring in their ordered supplies, as well as Dalton and Evie.
Phoebe tried not to think of Dalton’s return but found her mind continually drawn back to him—and especially the way it felt to be in his arms as they danced. It seemed silly. They’d hardly had the chance to get to know each other before he left to go south. To think he shared her feelings … but there was Dalton and Yuri’s contest. That had to mean something, and she couldn’t help but feel flattered by their shared attention. She had never had many suitors back in Vermont, but here in Alaska, Phoebe could take her pick. Men had been approaching her father and mother at every turn. To have an attractive daughter with fair white skin and blond hair was something of a novelty in Sitka, and Phoebe felt like quite the belle of the ball.
The only problem, she mused, was that she had somehow lost her heart to Dalton Lindquist without him even being there to court her. She’d listened to the stories his mother told of his childhood, and Phoebe knew all about his desire to have his own boat-making business. Lydia had told her of his strong faith in God, and Phoebe, in turn, started to pay more attention to matters of faith. Where in the past she might have held only a token interest in the sermons delivered on Sunday, she now listened with new intensity.
She also enjoyed the spiritual aspect of her friendship with Lydia and Zee. Through them, Phoebe had come to understand that the Bible was so much more than just a book of rules given by God. Instead, through their guidance, she was starting to see it was rather like a love letter He had provided for His people so that they might know Him better. Lydia and Zee also had a wondrous way of praying, as if God were sitting right beside them and they were simply having a conversation. And at their urging, Phoebe had started memorizing Bible verses, as well.
“Are you daydreaming, Miss Phoebe?” Zee asked.
Phoebe looked up, rather surprised, and noted that the other girls were already putting away their quilt blocks. “Sorry. I do tend to get lost in thought.” She tied off her thread and began to repack her things in a small traveling case her mother had given her.
The Tlingit girls bade them good-bye and headed back to their duties at home. Phoebe wanted to ask Zee if there had been any word from Dalton, but she knew better. There hadn’t been a chance for more mail to be delivered. The regular steamer would be in port in a few days, hopefully bringing Dalton and rendering a letter unnecessary.
I’m too impatient, she told herself. I must practice patience.
“I can’t wait for Dalton and Evie to return,” Lydia said as she bustled into the room. “I am hardly good for anything but thinking about them.”
“She’s right on that account,” Zee said with a wink at Phoebe. “Yesterday she ruined an entire cake just because she wasn’t paying attention to the ingredients.”
Lydia blushed lightly and shook her head. “You needn’t tell all of my shameful secrets.”
Zee laughed. “Well, I haven’t mentioned how you can’t sleep and so you pace the floors all through the night. I didn’t say a word about how you sewed the sleeve closed on that shirt you were making for Dalton.”
“Oh stop,” Lydia said. “I won’t have our Phoebe thinking so poorly of me.”
“It would be impossible for me to think poorly of you or Zee,” Phoebe assured them. She very much liked the way Lydia claimed ownership of her by saying our Phoebe. It made her feel as if she were already a member of the family. “I admire you two more than I do any other woman, save my mother.”
“I find your mother’s company refreshing,” Lydia told her. “She is quite sensible and intelligent, and I like that in a woman. So often women try not to appear intelligent, in case they dare offend the men around them. Your mother doesn’t seem to worry about that.”
“Indeed, she does not. She says it was one of the things that attracted my father to her. He heard her making a speech about women’s rights. In fact, she made such good points that he asked her to come and speak to his men’s group. He told her they were a collection of progressive thinkers, and Mother was intrigued. She said they were very possibly the most intelligent group of men she’d ever met. They weren’t intimidated by the idea of women having the right to vote, or of giving them rights to own property and businesses. She said she fell in love with my father at that meeting.”
“How romantic,” Lydia said. “What a wonderful story to tell your children.”
“Better than meeting because you fell out of a boat and nearly drowned,” Phoebe replied, then covered her mouth with her hand. She felt her face grow hot.
Lydia and Zee couldn’t help but laugh. They didn’t tease her or chide her bold statement; instead, they encouraged her thinking.
“Why, I think it a wonderful story. How marvelous to have had your true love rescue you from death,” Lydia offered.
Zee nodded. “And the fact that you scolded him for it only makes the story better.”
Phoebe moaned. “Oh, you must both think me awful.”
“Nonsense.” Lydia reached out and patted her arm. “I think you delightful and charming. I couldn’t imagine a better wife for my son.”
Against her will, Phoebe’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “You shouldn’t say such a thing.”
Zee chuckled. “Why not? Weren’t you thinking that way?”
Phoebe began to wring her hands. “I don’t know what to say. I’m just … well … I’m a silly young woman, just as my father declares me to be.”
“Again, such thinking is utter nonsense,�
�� Lydia countered. “I believe you and Dalton are well suited to each other, and I intend to encourage him to call on you when he returns—though I doubt I shall have any need. He was already intrigued when he left. If I know my son as well as I believe I do, the absence and distance will have only served to add to his interest in you. But now I want to suggest an entirely different subject.”
Feeling there was no possibility of being any more embarrassed, Phoebe nodded. “What is it?”
“I wonder,” Lydia began, “if you would like to help Zee and I plan a party for Evie and Dalton’s return.”
She smiled at the thought. “I would love to. What would you like me to do?”
Lydia took the seat beside Phoebe. “I think we should like to decorate. Maybe you could help us in that area?”
Phoebe considered that for a moment. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I would be happy to assist.”
“Zee had thought we should keep it simple. Maybe we could trim the room with some spruce boughs and ribbon. Oh, and we’ll use some of the candles I purchased from your mother.”
“I plan to make a cake,” Zee added. “And a nice pot of chicken and noodles. I’ve already picked out the intended donor. He’s a nice fat cockerel. The meat should be ever so delicious.”
“When will we plan to have the party?” Phoebe asked. “There’s no hope of knowing a fixed date for the steamer’s appearance.”
“We already thought of that,” Zee replied. “We’ll simply have everything ready to go and take care of the details at the last minute.” She grinned. “I can put the chicken in cold storage until needed.”
“I’ll make some invitations,” Lydia told Phoebe. “We will want to make sure that folks know we’ll have a celebration on the night the steamer comes into the harbor. Would you mind delivering them to the people in town?”
“Of course not. I’d be happy to.” Phoebe’s mind raced with thoughts. What would she wear to the party? Would that be when she had a chance to first see him again? The waiting was so very hard. What if she’d only managed to create something in her mind that could never be? What if her heart was wrong and she found Dalton to be someone she couldn’t abide?
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