Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “Yes, yes, Trent. I am so sorry,” Tora said, rushing to the door and opening it all the way. “Forgive me. I was searching for a … a handkerchief.”

  “Will this do?” he asked, pulling a rich silk square from his pocket.

  “Yes, yes. That will do.” She took his arm and forced herself to smile. “I always cry at weddings.”

  He looked at her with a grin as he led her down the stairs. “Now why do I doubt that?”

  Karl moved as if in a dream, dressing for the wedding while thinking of the last nuptials he had attended. Where were Peder and Elsa? Were they all right? He dismissed the thoughts. Undoubtedly, the Ramstads were better off without him. That self-reassurance still did not keep him from missing his best friends or the other Bergensers. He felt so far from what he had once considered home; Bergen was a lifetime ago, and memories of Camden faded in the distance. It seemed his whole life had been changed. For the better, he reminded himself. Today Alicia’s sister would wed. And soon—as soon as Alicia got around to setting the date—they would wed. The reality of it sent a charge through his body that made his heart beat double-time.

  An image of Elsa flashed through his mind before he could stop it. Curiously it was an image from their childhood. He could not peg the exact location, but he remembered her musical laughter and the color high in her cheeks as they raced barefoot across a grassy knoll to a mountain swimming hole. It was there that the boys typically dived recklessly into the icy waters, and Elsa followed suit. He could vaguely picture Carina sitting demurely on the edge, dipping her toes in. Tora was probably too young to keep up. But Elsa was right there with them, diving in, drawing the admiration of all.

  Perhaps it was her swan dive from the Sunrise that had awakened the memory. Thankfully the memory only evoked tender feelings, not the longing of days past. Had the healing begun? He had prayed for hours at a time, often on his knees in the middle of the night, beseeching his Lord for relief. It was a good thing that his prayer seemed to be answered of late. For he was marrying another in a matter of months. Perhaps his own marital happiness would drive away the last vestiges of his mad pursuit of Elsa Ramstad. Maybe one day they could all be friends. The thought brought him some comfort.

  “Thinking of your own future bride?” Brad asked, brushing his jacket and pinning a rose boutonniere to his lapel.

  Karl shifted uncomfortably. “And other things.”

  Brad looked him in the eye. He was quiet for an instant before speaking. “You do love her, Karl, right?”

  Karl blinked. “I think so.”

  Brad laughed and slapped him on the back. “Well, it’s a good thing, old boy because if you back out now, the boss will have your hide. It’s one thing for Alicia to leave a man—and believe me, there have been plenty—but quite the opposite to think of a man leaving Alicia.”

  An image of John hunting him down to mount his skin in his trophy room brought a sardonic smile to Karl’s lips. “Shall we go?”

  “She’s a prize, you know,” Brad said over his shoulder, leading him out the door.

  He had a cabby waiting, who opened the door ceremoniously. Karl hopped in, smiling. Brad climbed in behind him and hit the roof twice with his cane to indicate they were ready. The cab lurched off, the horses’ hooves clop-clopping on the cobblestone street.

  “As I was saying, Alicia is a prize. But wait until you catch sight of my lady tonight.” Brad sighed dramatically. “Virginia Louise Parker.” He sighed again, and Karl kicked him.

  “I do not jest, my friend,” Brad said, sitting up and reaching out his hands to trace an hourglass shape. “If this feeling keeps up, I’m bound to be in your shoes.”

  “What? Engaged? Well, it is time I meet the lady, then,” Karl said. “She’s probably an old maid if she’s taken up with the likes of you.”

  “Ha! Well, I might not have John Hall’s ear at the moment—like some I might mention—but I’m poised to make something of myself. No sir, Virginia is not some old maid. She’s a peach, and I aim to pluck her.”

  Karl frowned at him.

  “Nothing ungentlemanly, mind you. I intend to do the honorable thing. I just do not intend to wait long enough for another man to get any ideas.”

  The cabby pulled to a stop in front of a Saint Paul mansion. “I see you intend to marry well,” Karl said dryly.

  Brad hopped out then turned back to waggle his eyebrows once at him. Karl chuckled and watched as his friend hurried up the front steps, spoke briefly to a butler, then disappeared inside the house. In a few moments, he emerged, proud as a peacock, a pretty brunette on his arm. When they reached the cab, Karl held out a hand to assist her.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, confidently, looking into his eyes for a moment. “I assume you are Mr. Martensen?”

  “I am. And you are Miss Parker?”

  “Indeed.” She nodded once. Pretty, but not gorgeous. Sensible. He liked her immediately. It fit, that a rapscallion like Brad would find a woman like her to keep him in line. Yes, it could work, he mused.

  “You are meeting Alicia?”

  Karl nodded. “At the church. She is attending her sister. Do you know her?”

  “A bit. I am an acquaintance of the Halls, but have never quite been accepted into their inner social circle.”

  Karl frowned, a bit uncomfortable at her frankness.

  “My father and Mr. Hall had a parting of ways some years ago. The invitation to this wedding came as some surprise.”

  “Oh. I see.” He could not help but feel that the Halls’ ways were now his own responsibility. After all, at some point he would be kin. “Perhaps in time your father and Mr. Hall will mend—”

  “No, no. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable, Mr. Martensen. I simply felt that since Alicia is your fiancée, you should know that some water has passed under the bridge between our families. If you did not know, it might prove … uncomfortable.”

  Silence descended upon them, and all three listened to the creak of the coach and the rhythm of horseshoes until Brad broke in. “Trust my date to lay her cards on the table. See why I am crazy about her?”

  Virginia smiled and swatted him with her purse. She looked over at Karl. “He makes me laugh. I make him be serious. A lovely arrangement, don’t you agree?”

  Karl smiled, the mood restored. “I am happy for you both,” he said quietly.

  Soon the cab pulled to a stop outside a huge Roman Catholic basilica, and Brad reached up to pay the driver as they exited. At least fifty carriages stretched out on both sides of the street, their drivers and doormen idling about in the sweltering July humidity, awaiting the return of their passengers. Karl followed Brad and Virginia as they climbed the grand, wide steps and entered the church.

  He paused to gape at the entry while Brad took their hats and canes and disappeared. Almost every seat was already filled, even in the balcony. The sanctuary temperature must have risen ten degrees purely from the bodies that packed the pews.

  “What’s this?” he whispered to Brad upon his return. “A wedding ceremony or a business function for John?”

  “Both,” Brad said, stepping out to follow an usher who had Virginia on his arm. Karl had no choice but to follow. “The Halls practically financed this entire building,” Brad muttered under his breath as they walked side by side down the aisle. “Your future mother-in-law is much more devout than John. He did it to please her.”

  Karl fought the urge to whistle. “I hope she was mollified,” he whispered as they sat down.

  The ceremony, which included a High Mass, went on for over two hours, with the priest speaking in Latin and the crowd fanning themselves or dabbing at foreheads with handkerchiefs. At one point Virginia leaned toward Karl and whispered, “I hope no one faints up there,” nodding toward the wedding party. It was with some relief on everyone’s part that bride and groom were pronounced man and wife, and the organ played the recessional.

  Not until the reception at a luxurious downtown hotel did
Karl see Tora, who gestured to him from the coatroom. Her presence hit him with all the warmth of a Bering Strait iceberg. His smile fading, he walked toward her quickly, wanting them to have their words and get it over with.

  “Since I’ve seen no evidence of your child, I assume you’ve dumped it on someone else,” he said without preamble. “With whom? Elsa?”

  “Shhh,” she said, scowling and pulling him into the small room, where she partially closed the door. “I found a suitable home for her.”

  “And Kristoffer’s boys?”

  “I fulfilled my duty to him. The deal was six months for passage to America. I stayed for eight.”

  “Because you were pregnant. Do you not realize that Kris was in love with you?”

  “Never mind about all that,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “That is past. You know about the past, don’t you, Karl?” she asked slyly. She gestured about her. “We have both entered a new world. All I want is your promise that you will not say a word to Trent about knowing me. We will pretend that we simply have never met.”

  “Why? Will it not be a bit odd since we’re both from Bergen? It will only be a matter of time before someone puts two and two together. Then our duplicity will only seem worse.” It dawned on him why she was so anxious. “Oh, I understand. Trent’s your new conquest. And you will present yourself as a virgin bride.”

  “And why not? I was taken advantage of—”

  “Advantage, my foot. You cannot fool me, Tora Anders. No one has ever taken advantage of you in your life.” Through the half-open door he caught a glimpse of Alicia in the hotel lobby, looking for him so they could make their entrance into the ballroom. “I have to go, Tora.”

  “Not before I have your promise.”

  “I will not promise you that.”

  “Yes, you will,” she said, crossing her arms. “You will, or I’ll have your fiancée thinking your intentions were not entirely honorable with me here in the coatroom.”

  Karl glared at her. “Like you did with Soren Janssen, right?”

  “Promise me.”

  “Fine. Just stay out of my life, Tora Anders,” he said, shaking a finger in her face. “Stay clear.”

  He turned to leave, paused, then said over his shoulder, “And wait five minutes to leave this room so there is no suspicion.”

  “Agreed,” she said, obviously pleased.

  How in the world had Tora Anders drawn him into her falsehoods? he wondered moments later, forcing a smile and taking Alicia’s arm.

  “May I present Mr. Karl Martensen and Miss Alicia Hall!” the doorman cried.

  The ballroom erupted in applause as if they were royalty.

  July 25, 1881

  Elsa stood at the bow of the Sunrise, her nose lifted to the wind. She could smell the fresh tang of pine and the loamy scent of the fertile ground not a half mile from the ship’s deck. Her father would have loved this place. The thought pained her heart, for she longed to share her new life with her father. At least she still had her mother, and perhaps someday soon Gratia would come to live with them. If only Peder would come and stand beside her—come and wrap his arms around her! To some extent, that might help relieve her grieving heart. Instead he had anchored his anger deep within, holding onto his resentment, refusing to let it out with the tide.

  She chastised herself for dwelling on this matter yet again. Peder would have to find his own way to deal with his feelings and whatever else was troubling him. In the meantime, a new land stretched before her, and Elsa intended to relish each moment. Seattle was a tiny town of mud and few civilized attributes, but she loved its spirit already. The dense conifer forests reminded her of Bergen, and with the many rushing river ways that dumped into Puget Sound, the territory was ripe for a healthy logging business. Elsa had decided that Henry Whitehall knew what he was doing. Washington Territory would make many wealthy, and the Ramstads should share in the bounty.

  As Peder approached, she turned and watched a steamboat leaving a nearby river and entering Puget Sound, hauling freshly harvested pine behind in a great net.

  “You see her?” she said, pointing across the Sound. If she could not reach him on a personal level, perhaps she could approach him through talk of work.

  “I do.”

  “You realize that we could build our own?”

  “Of course.” His tone indicated he didn’t follow her train of thought.

  “Think of it, Peder. If we built a couple more schooners and a steamboat like that one, we could have our own lumber business.”

  “I have enough on my mind without building a second business on top of the first.”

  He turned away, and she followed, echoing his slow gait.

  “But what is to learn? You have been around Ramstad Yard in Bergen all your life. The Sunrise is testimony that you can build ships.” She reached out to touch his arm, then waved at the coastline before them. “Does this not feel right to you somehow?” She shook her head. “I cannot shake it. It’s like God is nodding and smiling. I can feel it.”

  Peder looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “So what? You want us to leave Camden? The house I’ve built you?” He shook his head. “No. We have enough to handle without moving to a town in an area that has not yet even claimed her statehood. Tend to your painting, Elsa. Leave the business to me.”

  His tone stung, and Elsa set her mouth in a grim line. “I would appreciate if you would not just dismiss—”

  “I am the head of this family. I would appreciate if you did not challenge me.”

  She sighed in frustration. “And I would appreciate if you were not so imperious that I cannot even discuss our future—my future—with you.”

  Peder ran his hand through his hair, leaving a curl resting on his forehead. “I am willing to discuss with you any wise options, Elsa. I simply do not think this place is good for us—for any reason other than to load and leave.”

  She looked at him and back to the coast. It was beautiful. The towering, snow-capped mountain ranges were awe-inspiring, and the hills, with their thick evergreens, appeared more verdant and fresh than Maine. It was rough and yet inviting at the same time. It was so … new. Rough and untamed, ready to be made into anything they wanted.

  “So you feel nothing?” she asked, waving toward it. How could he not feel what she did for this new land? “You do not feel any tugging at your heart?”

  “You speak nonsense, Elsa,” he said in dismissal. “If you think it is so beautiful, why not break out your oils and canvas and paint it?”

  She swallowed her anger. Sometimes Peder could be fearfully pigheaded. No wonder Karl had been frustrated with him! She turned away and stared at the steamboat pulling away into the distance. No, she was sure of it. Steam and Seattle were in their future whether Peder liked it or not. It would just take him a while to discover the truth of it.

  Peder left Elsa on deck and went into his study. The room was crowded with a table holding the standard seaman’s charting equipment—an hourglass, sextant, his logbook, nautical maps—as well as a huge roll-top desk he had purchased in China, which had miraculously escaped damage from the fire. He sat down heavily at the desk, thinking about Elsa and Karl for the thousandth time. The island … the kiss … In a rage he stood, knocking over his chair. He clenched his teeth and swept the table clean with one arm, feeling some satisfaction as everything fell to the floor with a crash and whoosh of papers. He glanced back at the desk … and the envelope lying on it.

  It was the letter that finally broke him. Addressed to him, clearly identifiable as Karl’s handwriting. Crumpled and unfolded again and again, yet unopened since he had received it in San Francisco. Sinking to his knees on the hard pine flooring, he began to weep.

  “Why?” he cried, looking upward as if able to see God in the wooden moldings. “How could you let this happen? He was like a brother to me. He was like a brother …”

  He still is. The voice of God was discernible to Peder, regardless of the fact th
at he had shut out the Savior for months.

  “No. A brother does not act as Karl has.”

  Leave his judgment to me.

  “That’s fine with me. You can send him where he deserves,” Peder spat out. “But what am I to do with her?” he raged, standing and gesturing toward the door. He began pacing the cabin.

  Be her husband.

  “I was her husband, and I obviously was not enough, was I?” His words rang hollow, even to him. He heard no answer. “Lord, Lord, I cannot deal with it.”

  You are strong.

  “Not this strong. She has not even asked my forgiveness!”

  Forgive.

  “Me? She has wronged me ! She was not faithful! She let him kiss her! She should have seen it coming!” He was indignant. His tears dried on his hot face. He no longer felt God’s presence, just the chilly dampness of the cabin.

  “What is fidelity? What does it mean to be faithful?” he mumbled as he righted his chair and sat at the desk again. “Friendship …”

  After a moment he picked up the letter and stared at it then beyond to his Chinese desk. He studied the ornately carved dragons and lotus blossoms and exotic diving birds along the top. Beneath was a more pastoral scene of inlaid pearl, depicting gently climbing hills, drooping trees, and gay birds.

  He looked back at the letter. “Were you a dragon after my lotus blossom, Karl?” he ground out. He dropped the letter then rubbed his face in exhaustion.

  Peder knew he had to deal with his anger, his jealousy, his harbored bitterness … to get beyond it. He knew that. But how could Karl have kissed his wife? How could Karl have endangered his best friend’s marriage … their friendship … and his own future as well? Surely his prospects in Saint Paul were less sure than in Camden-by-the-Sea, regardless of how their plans for the yard had changed. Peder would have made him successful, even though Ramstad was the only name on the sign. Peder knew what loyalty, what friendship meant. Apparently Karl did not.

  Sudden guilt struck him a devastating blow as he remembered his own sin. He had not been entirely forthright with Karl, after all. He had been disingenuous for months, hiding his father’s financial gift from his friend and partner. Had he made the right decision? Would it not have been a better choice, would he not have been a better man, to gently refuse his father’s money and follow through with the plans he had made with Karl? They would have made slower progress … the Sunrise would not yet have been launched … there would have been no voyage with Elsa along. No Mason Dutton. No island. No reason for Karl’s defenses to be down, nor Elsa’s.