Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  He walked the deck from bow to stern, thinking about what Elsa had said, reflecting on how the oppressive doldrums they were experiencing echoed his own feelings. It was deadly still, as it had been for days, and incredibly hot and humid. Not a breath of wind was on the air, and the sails slumped like sad, dirty sheets waiting for the laundress. These were the days that Peder hated being a sailor. He was always in a hurry to get to his next destination. Karl would tell him, “Just enjoy the ride, my friend. Enjoy every day for the day it was created to be for you.” From the start, Karl had seemed to have a deeper, more intense relationship with God than he, though Peder was witness and Karl the convert. It was as though when Christ entered Karl’s heart, he moved closer to Karl than he ever did with Peder. Or maybe it was simply that Karl was better able to recognize God in the everyday.

  It was difficult for Peder to see God in this day. It was a soulless afternoon, in his opinion, and only antagonized him, making him feel worse about life than he already did. He wiped the sweat from his brow and billowed out his damp shirt to relieve his perspiring chest. He looked out to sea, where the only ripple was from the dorsal fins of fish beneath the surface. Would this never end? They were already late, desperate to make time to get home, unload their cargo, and bring the Sunrise in for the winter. He fought the urge to scream in frustration. Surely if he could just get Elsa home, she would settle into their cottage and prepare for a baby.

  Yes! A baby was the answer. It would resolve all of this, for Elsa would be too busy with the child to think of business. He would be free to do as he wished. Yet as exasperating as Elsa was at times—and despite the strife her presence had caused—had Peder ever known greater joy than with her traveling by his side? He thought not.

  It is time for a new day. A new horizon.

  It was time for forgiveness. It holds me back, he thought. It’s been holding me back for months, eh, Father?

  Be renewed, child. Renew.

  Without stopping to think, he barked out the order. “Drop the lines! Starboard!”

  Sleepy sailors hastened to obey him, a bit befuddled at such a command, but nonetheless following orders.

  Peder stripped off his shirt and climbed to the starboard rail. “Last one in peels potatoes for a year!” He sailed through the air, fighting off the giddy desire to laugh, knowing he would need his breath for his time below the waterline. Just before hitting the water, he heard shouts of glee and men scurrying to the side.

  The water parted for his fingertips, and Peder slid through the aquamarine liquid, relishing the relief from the heat. It was no wonder that few fish jumped. It was too wonderful beneath the seas to leave. Conscious of the sounds of impact as other men jumped into the water, Peder relaxed and let his inflated lungs raise his inert body to the surface. It felt as if he were flying … going ten, fifteen feet upward until his face met air and he inhaled deeply. Feeling released at last from all the angst of recent days, weeks, months, he rubbed his eyes and hooted a call that all with him echoed.

  When he opened his eyes, he spotted Elsa nearby, looking at him like a naughty, caught child. She actually looked frightened, obviously anticipating a sharp reprimand after what had happened the last time she went in the water. “Well, I did not wish to peel potatoes for a year,” she said primly, chin up, as she continued to tread water.

  Peder laughed. Laughed deeply. Was he such a fool to waste precious days with this wonderful woman beside him? Any days? Regardless of disagreements, life was too short. He wasted no more time. “I have been a fool, Elsa. Forgive me for being a stubborn old sea captain. Forgive me for not being your husband. Forgive me for not being your friend.”

  She smiled in surprise, her eyebrows tenting to the center as if she wanted to cry. “Oh, Peder,” was all she whispered, pulling him underwater for a long kiss. They could hear the men’s muted hoots and hollers and cheers. But the impropriety of it mattered little to Peder. He had his wife back. Moreover, he felt like a husband again.

  That night Peder and Elsa sat over cold dinner dishes for hours, talking. Every time Cook came in to clear, Peder scowled at the poor man, letting him know he was intruding. Finally the man knocked and entered once more. With a quick bow, he stepped forward and took the dishes, not waiting for Peder’s permission.

  Peder smiled. “Anxious for your bunk, Cook?”

  Cook ignored him.

  “Forgive us for loitering,” Elsa said. “Please. Leave them until morning.”

  Cook ignored her.

  “I’ve never known the man to leave dirty dishes until morning,” Peder explained.

  “New day. New dish,” Cook said at last, closing the door behind him.

  Peder and Elsa laughed. “A good way to live,” she said, looking at Peder meaningfully.

  “A good way indeed,” Peder said, steadily returning her glance.

  How grand it was to again be on an even keel with her husband! Elsa felt dizzy with relief. “Peder, I must ask,” she began, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “What made you forgive me at last?”

  “It was eating at me. Time and again I’d go to the Lord and beg him to show me justice. I got the only justice I was owed. My stomach was in knots. I have not slept more than five hours at a time for months. And I could find no peace in the situation since I felt that I was wronged. But then I saw that you were innocent, my love. That I was punishing you for a sin never committed. It was I who held the sin and built upon it until it was bigger than both of us.”

  Elsa looked down. “I am sorry, Peder,” she whispered.

  His hand left hers to lift her chin. “For what?”

  “For not seeing the road ahead. Maybe I could have—”

  “I understand your heart, love,” he interrupted. “Say no more. New day …”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “New day …” he led again.

  “New dish,” she said.

  Several days later the Sunrise left the doldrums behind and raced toward the Horn. Fall was coming on quickly, and they had fewer than forty days to get home safely. Anything beyond that was bound to endanger the Sunrise, her cargo and crew, when they got into the northern latitudes. So it was with some reluctance that when a brigantine trailing behind hailed them, Peder ordered a number of the sails furled to allow her approach. By that afternoon the Connor’s Day drew alongside and ran up a flag signaling the request to speak to the captain.

  It was rare for a merchant marine to pause mid-voyage for a visit with another. While the whalers commonly did this, being at sea for months at a time, merchants were eager to get their cargo to port and collect their funds. Peder eyed the ship and flag with some skepticism. Was it a trick? His experience with the Lark had made him leery. Still, through his scope he could plainly see a woman roaming the deck, and there was little doubt that Elsa would appreciate some female companionship. They had waited this long for Connor’s Day to approach. What was another two hours?

  “Furl all sails!” he directed Riley.

  “Furl all sails!” his first mate relayed.

  The crew repeated the command in unison.

  “Run up the welcome flag,” he said, then turned to Elsa. “We’re about to have some company, Elsa. Perhaps you should set Cook to some refreshments.”

  “Run up the come ahead flag!” Riley shouted.

  Elsa nodded once and was off, while Peder turned back to watch the Connor’s Day. A longboat was lowered over the side, carrying what he assumed was the ship’s captain, wife, and four crew members. The crewmen each wielded a long oar, rowing in sweet precision, and reached the Sunrise in minutes.

  “Ahoy!” the captain hailed from the longboat, peering up at Peder. “Permission to board your fine vessel, sir.”

  “Ahoy!” he greeted. “Come ahead.” They climbed up the netting to the rail, and Peder himself leaned to help the woman over the edge.

  “Welcome to the Sunrise. I am Captain Peder Ramstad.” Elsa joined him. “This is my wife, Elsa.�
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  “Pleased to meet you!” the woman squealed. “You don’t know how long we’ve been chasing you people. I told my Otto—this is my husband, Otto Keller—we simply must catch up with them. ‘The woman’s got letters,’ I said. Didn’t I say that, Otto? And I know what letters mean to a woman at sea.” She stretched out her hand, offering Elsa a thick packet of envelopes. “They were in San Francisco. Harbor master said you had already come and gone and weren’t anticipated back. Since you were headin’ the same way we were, I figured I’d shanghai them for ya.”

  “Thank you,” Elsa said. “Thank you, Mrs. Keller.”

  “Oh, please. Call me Emma. Short for Emmaline. Too much name for me, though. Everyone calls me Emma.”

  “Emma,” Elsa said, smiling at her new friend.

  With one glance at her face, Peder knew the Kellers would stay for dinner.

  Long afterward when they had finished dinner and both ships were once more underway, Peder sat down with Elsa to read the letters. Most were for her from Kaatje, with one from Tora and another from Kristoffer to Peder. Peder read his own letter, mumbling about what Kris had to say about the status of his next schooner, problems with laborers, and weather delays. Meanwhile, Elsa read through Kaatje’s letters, most of them seeming too personal to read aloud.

  “Elsa … Kris writes with news of Tora—” his voice broke off as he studied her face. “You have bad news?”

  “I do,” she said. “That lout Soren left her to work on the railroad. Left her alone on all that land with a baby—or babies, as she says, although I cannot fathom of what she speaks. They could not have had another already!”

  “Maybe one seems like two to a woman alone on the prairie.”

  “Indeed. If it hadn’t been for her neighbors and the Bergensers, she would not have brought in their first crop.”

  “He did not return to help her?”

  Elsa scanned through the letters again, looking for an answer. “No. He has not returned at all.”

  “You think he has left her?”

  “She says little of him in the last letter. The only good thing about it all is that she says, ‘I have been forced to my knees, and somehow I feel taller. The grace of God is an amazing thing, Elsa. For he lives within me. I had forgotten that for a time. But remembering has made me strong.’ No, she says it here: ‘Pray for me and my daughters. The Lord is mighty, but this world is harsh. Your ever-loving friend, Kaatje.’ She says ‘daughters’! Another! So soon! And that rat Soren has left them high and dry.”

  “Perhaps he’ll return.”

  “Perhaps. Why do I doubt him?” she asked, hating the sarcasm she heard in her voice but unable to curb it. “Peder, we must send her some help. Might we wire her some funds? A little something to get her through the winter?”

  “Indeed. Consider it done. We shall do it in New York when we unload the Whitehall cargo. It will get to her faster.”

  “You are so good, Peder. Thank you.” She picked up the last letter, a note from Tora. Perhaps her sister had better news. The brief letter was not dated, but covered in her sister’s distinctive scroll-like script.

  “Her penmanship was always far grander than she,” Elsa muttered.

  Dear Sister,

  By now Kristoffer has undoubtedly shared with you the happy news. You have a niece named Jessica. The greater news is that I have placed her with a loving mother and have gone on to chase my dream. I think I have found it. I am in love with a wonderful man!

  His name is Trent Storm, and I intend to finagle a proposal from him someday soon. He is very well-off. Please be happy for me. Please do not be too angry that I have placed my child elsewhere. I admit it was more difficult than anticipated, but better for both of us. Kaatje will take close care of Jessie …

  Elsa gasped and swallowed hard, feeling sick to her stomach.

  Peder looked up from his own letter in concern. “What? What is it?”

  “Tora,” she said, numbly.

  “What has she done now?”

  “She left her baby with Kaatje. That is the second child to whom Kaatje refers.”

  “Kaatje? Why on earth—”

  “Soren. Soren is the child’s father.”

  Peder slammed his fist down on the table and swore under his breath. “How could she? How could she do that to Kaatje? She was the innocent among them!”

  “She was the means to an end,” said Elsa. “Tora wanted Soren to be punished. So she left her child. Her dear, sweet baby …” Elsa turned away from the letter, miserable at the grief her sister had brought into Kaatje’s life and home.

  Peder picked up the letter and read on.

  Kaatje will take close care of Jessie, and Jessie will be with her father. I was not cut out to be a mother, Elsa. It was more difficult than expected, but at least it is finished. What is done is done, as they say, and it is doubtful that anyone could be a better mother than your beloved Kaatje. Tell Mama I am well. I will write her when I have reached the station for which I was born. —Tora.

  Trent Storm had been dawdling in his courtship of late, Tora decided. The only way to make a man act was to force his hand.

  And she thought she knew just the way to do it. As usual, she swept past his secretary and into his office without awaiting permission.

  “Miss Anders!” the secretary said loudly, clearly irked at being ignored again. “Miss Anders! He is taking a meeting!”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He will not mind, since it’s me.”

  She opened the massive wooden double doors and smiled sweetly as Trent rose and said, “Miss Anders, I’m sorry. I am in the middle of an interview.” Tora looked over the sad woman in the chair before his desk and immediately knew she would be placed in the kitchen of some dreary train-stop restaurant.

  “I need to speak to you, Mr. Storm. As soon as you are done here?”

  The young woman rose. “If you wish, I could come back …”

  “No, no,” said Trent, irritated. “We will only be a minute.” He turned to Tora and took her firmly by the arm. “You must stop doing this. You are important to me, but this is rude.”

  Tora raised her chin in the air and cocked one brow. “I am sorry if I intruded, Mr. Storm. It is simply imperative that we speak right away.”

  “All right, all right.” He ran one hand through his elegantly graying hair. “Give me five minutes, and I will meet you for lunch down the street.”

  “Five minutes,” she repeated meaningfully. It felt delicious to have such a hold on a man like Trent Storm! She swept out of the room and down the stairs, again plotting just what she would say and the tone of voice she would use. The next step had to be carefully orchestrated, and it had to be done quickly. Tora had received an invitation from Alicia Hall to attend a ball the following week. She intended to be gone before the woman could figure out the truth. When Trent’s ring was on her finger, she could face anyone.

  True to form, Trent arrived at the restaurant five minutes later. He sat down and steadily gazed at her across the table. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. Tora, you never make a move without thinking about it twice. Why the drama? Why the grand entrance and hush-hush of urgency in your voice?” He leaned back and methodically unfolded his cloth napkin across his lap. The waitress emerged and took their order.

  She chose to ignore his questions. “I have been thinking a lot about us of late, Trent. While I enjoy your company, I still have not done what I wanted to do when I first came to Storm Enterprises.”

  “And what is that?”

  “See the wild west. You keep me working here under your eye during the day and on your arm in the evenings. I believe if you and I are to have more than a passing relationship, I need to go on and discover who Tora Anders is … what she’s made of.”

  “And you need to go west to do that? All along, I thought you knew exactly who you are.”

  T
ora fidgeted. This was not going as planned. “Of course. Perhaps I misspoke. I suppose I am looking for more. In me and in my life. You offer me the best here in Duluth. But I want adventure. I want to be on my own, prove to the world that Tora Anders is strong and independent.”

  “I see,” Trent said, looking at the plate of food the waitress set before him. “And I hold you back from that?”

  “Well, yes. While I have enjoyed your company immensely, Trent,” she said, “and it is difficult for me to leave, I feel I must. Send me to the end of the line on whatever railroad John Hall is building currently. I want to set up with the town at the end and roll with the train as we move on. I want to be first, Trent. I want to be there. I have a certain business acumen. I could be your representative and get things set up just as you would have them. I know you better than most,” she added.

  “Indeed. And what if I said I was sorry to see you go?”

  Tora smiled. “Do not be silly, Trent. Could you not come to see me anytime you wished? Besides, you have not shared your intentions with me.”

  “Is that what this is about? Forcing my hand?”

  Alarm bells sounded in Tora’s head. She needed to douse that fire immediately. “Certainly not,” she said with a frown. “I am simply stating the facts. And the facts are that I was promised a position in the West, but then you began to court me. I know not what you intend. I am a woman alone in the world, Trent. And I must look out for my best interests.”

  “And why is it not in your best interest to remain here and be courted by one of the wealthiest men in Duluth? Do you wish to be rid of me, Miss Anders? For if so, simply say the word. Do not fear for your position. I am a man of honor and would allow you to keep working for Storm Enterprises.”

  Tora sighed and reached across the table to take his long fingers in her own. “That is not at all what I am saying. Will you not let me go away for a while, Trent? You can determine your intentions, I can have some adventure, and then we will reunite and discuss our future, should there be one.”

  “So forthright, so businesslike.”

  Tora winced. “I feel I have little choice. People are beginning to talk. It is unseemly for an employer to see an employee socially. Surely you realize that. I must go. And if you will not send me, I will go see Fred Harvey.”