Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “Winning them over with food again, Mrs. Hodge?” Elsa teased.

  “Whatever wins them, I say. It’s good to be back with you, Elsa. I’ve enjoyed my time at the house, but I was surprised when I found that I not only missed you Ramstads, but also the sea.”

  “It grows on you,” Elsa said.

  “You children go and wash your hands before supper,” Mrs. Hodge said. After they scampered off, she turned to Elsa, taking the ivory comb from her hand. In seconds she had the stubborn segment of hair perfectly in place, firmly secured with the comb. “Peder gave that comb to you, didn’t he?”

  “He did,” Elsa said, feeling guilty all of a sudden for her excitement over supper with Karl.

  “He’d be glad you’re wearing it tonight. Moreover, he’d be happy you’re having dinner with Karl.”

  Her reassurance eased Elsa’s heart. But one thing held her back. “Mrs. Hodge. Tell me. What if it was more than just supper with an old friend? What if I found myself with…feelings for Captain Martensen?” She held her breath, afraid of Mrs. Hodge’s answer.

  “I’d say it was high time.” Mrs. Hodge stared into her eyes via the mirror. She put a hand on either shoulder. “You’ve honored his memory, Elsa. You’ll continue to honor his memory. Why, you and the children just visited his grave. One can’t ask for more than that. Peder would not have asked for more.” Elsa nodded once.

  “You see? Peder Ramstad will always hold a special place in your heart. Always. He will always be your first love, your husband, the father of your children. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for another.”

  Eric insisted on rowing her over to Fair Alaska, apparently chagrined at the thought of escorting his beautiful captain past the rough-and-tumble crowd that frequented the wharf. “Besides,” he said, “it’ll give me time with a crew besides these louts,” nodding at those on deck.

  “It is most kind of you, Eric.”

  “Shall we?”

  “Let me kiss the children good night.” “Right away. I’ll get the skiff ready.”

  After bidding her children a good night, she accepted Riley’s hand and climbed into the boat before it was lowered to the surface. At the bottom of the net, another sailor waited for them, and then stepped aboard. Elsa looked upward. “Two men? Isn’t that overdoing it a bit, Riley?”

  He grinned down at her. “Nothing’s overdoing it when I’m sending my fair captain to another ship dressed as if she were attending a society luncheon.”

  She shook her head, embarrassed to be caught, and then nodded her assent to Eric to carry her onward and away from the laughter of her men aboard ship. Eric sat at one long oar and sang a low sailor’s tune to help the other sailor keep time with him at his own oar. They said nothing, and Elsa felt a bit uneasy in front of the other sailor. Especially with her mind on Karl Martensen.

  He was waiting at the rail when she arrived, as somehow she knew he would be. They tied up beside the massive Fair Alaska, and Karl carried a ladder down to the pier for her, then lowered it to the skiff. She carefully climbed up, wanting to curse her bulky crinoline for making her feel clumsy, and accepted his hand. He bent low to kiss her fingers, then turned to shake Eric’s hand.

  “Weren’t you the one who escorted Captain Ramstad to the ball?”

  “Indeed,” Eric said, measuring Karl with his eyes. “Eric Young, Captain Ramstad’s second mate.”

  “Yes, I was sorry not to have made your acquaintance the night of the ball. I know of you, Mr. Young. You have a good reputation. If you ever tire of working for Captain Ramstad, look me up.”

  Elsa looked from one man to the other. They seemed to admire each other, but there was a smell of competition in the air.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll accompany my captain to your ship and stand outside the door should she need anything.”

  “That’s hardly necessary. I have plenty of crew members to see to her every need.”

  Eric stood firm, unrelenting, staring only at Karl, never at Elsa.

  “You might as well agree, Karl,” she said, taking his arm and breaking the awkward moment. “I have assembled the most wonderful, loyal crew on the seven seas.”

  “Apparently,” he said, tucking her hand more securely on his strong forearm. “And the other man?”

  “He’ll stay with the skiff,” Eric answered from behind them.

  “I’ll send some supper down!” Karl called back.

  “Much obliged, Cap’n Martensen!” the man called back.

  Once aboard the Fair Alaska, Elsa dropped her hand from Karl’s arm and brought it to her mouth in astonishment. “Why…Karl, she’s beautiful.”

  “You haven’t seen the half of her.” He stared down at her, and Elsa sensed that he wasn’t only admiring his ship. “Come, this way. I’ll give you a tour of the main deck and then we’ll end up at the dining hall. You, too, Mr. Young.”

  They began at the impressive bridge, twice as large as Elsa’s on the Majestic, then proceeded to the boiler room. Karl’s arm waved in the air as he explained the inner workings of the ship.

  “They’re half again as large as ours,” Eric murmured in her ear when Karl’s back was turned. “She has to be twenty tons.” Elsa’s crew had heard of her wager with Karl and was eager for their journey north, and their race, to begin.

  “Twenty-two,” she whispered back, remembering Kristoffer’s report from the Ramstad Shipyard in Camden.

  She waited until Karl was finished and then, ignoring what he had just said, stared into his eyes. “You think you have us already, don’t you? Simply because your boilers are such monstrosities? You probably had a good laugh when I demanded you only use two.”

  Karl’s eyes sparkled in merriment. “A wager’s a wager.”

  “Indeed,” she said, turning to lead them out of the noisy compartment where one of the gigantic steam engines slowly chugged, even though the ship was idle. She supposed it was to generate the electricity that lit the entire ship. That electricity would eat up a lot of Karl’s precious steam, she thought with a smirk. And the sheer bulk of Fair Alaska would take a lot of power to push it northward. He hadn’t won yet.

  They went down a great, curving staircase to the guest’s quarters, forty rooms that bragged of elegance by their ornate furnishings. There was even a tiny water closet and shower attached to each room, and electric lamps in each of the bedrooms. “My, Karl, she’s lovely. You really think you can attract enough paying customers to make it profitable?”

  “I’m sure of it. John Muir has written countless articles on Glacier Bay, piquing society’s interest. Word has it he’s even contemplating a book, he’s so wild about the terrain. Trent Storm is already organizing rail trips from the Midwest and East to Seattle, where I’ll pick up the passengers and escort them to his roadhouses in Ketchikan and Juneau. You wait and see. It’ll be the rage.”

  “You’re most likely right,” she answered, a bit miffed she hadn’t thought of the plan herself. It was perfect. A gem of an idea.

  He took them back to the main deck’s receiving area, an enormous parlor meant for his guests’ recreation with huge portholes that boasted of terrific views, even in foul weather. Then they walked along a narrow covered walkway that arced over the deck like a small bridge, presumably to allow crew members easy access while protecting his high-paying passengers from the elements in their formal dress. On the other side was a massive dining room; Elsa imagined the tables set with white tablecloths and silver. Crystal and china were neatly displayed in cabinets at the end of each long row of tables.

  “You really think this will work?” she wondered aloud. “You’re obviously going to have to charge these people exorbitant prices to treat them this well. You’ll dine on what? Pheasant and duck? Pour the finest wines? Really, don’t you think it’s a bit ostentatious?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I think it’s the next wave of sailing. People will get up out of their armchairs and see the world, not just read about it. And if we ca
n give them all the comforts of home, they’ll be all the more pleased to tell their friends that they must go too.”

  “I hope so,” she said with a laugh. “Because if they don’t, you won’t be able to pay your Ramstad Shipyard bill.”

  “Not at all.”

  She looked at him quickly, confused.

  “I paid cash for Fair Alaska. She’s mine, free and clear.”

  Words could not express how glad Karl was to have Elsa aboard Fair Alaska. And he was even more glad when he smugly gestured toward the table outside the ballroom and could finally shut the door on the watchful Eric. It was more than loyalty that made that man such a watchdog for Elsa, Karl was sure of it. But tonight, tonight Karl would see if there was even a chance for him.

  She paused when she tore her admiring gaze from the ballroom panels and saw the beautiful table. It was set with the finest sterling and china and crystal that Karl had, with a crystal candelabra already alight. She laughed in amazement and turned to him in surprise. “I had better leave.”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes. You must be expecting the governor.”

  “Better,” he said, taking her hand. “An old friend that I’ve missed for far too long.”

  She glanced away, her cheeks reddening with his praise, looking toward the gilt-edged mirrors on the walls and Antonio’s incredible carvings. “Where did you have these done?” she asked. “Last I knew, Ramstad Yard wasn’t doing such work.”

  “San Francisco.”

  “Ahh,” she said knowingly. “Convenient.”

  “Convenient?”

  “Yes,” she said, still running her hands over the carvings, avoiding his gaze. “All that work had to be done, right there near young Miss Kenney.”

  Was that a hint of jealousy in her voice? Was she fishing for information? Surely not. “Yes, it was good to be near all the Kenneys. They’re fine friends.” He never wanted to say anything disrespectful about his friends, regardless of what he wanted Elsa to understand, that there could never be anything between him and Mara. He hoped Elsa read between the lines.

  “And what would young Miss Kenney think of this?” she said, waving toward the table for two. She sounded a bit indignant. And for the first time Karl wondered if he had gone too far, too fast.

  “I would tell her the truth,” he said. “I’d tell her that we are old friends who had dinner for the first time in two years and that I used every resource on the Fair Alaska to make it a memorable reunion.”

  Her expression eased a bit, and she almost looked a little sorry at his explanation. Women! Who could figure what they wanted? Unable to think of what else he should do, he went to the phonograph, wound it up, and set the needle upon the metal disk. Music wafted into the air, and Elsa’s expression softened. “Do you have a phonograph?” he asked.

  “Hardly. This is the first one I’ve seen.” “You’ll want one after you hear a few disks.”

  “I want one now! And the children would love it.” “Take mine back with you.” “I couldn’t.”

  “Yes, I insist. Borrow it until we reach Juneau.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They paused, both watching the revolving machine and listening to the notes leaving the fluted horn that broadcast them. “Would you care to dance?” he asked, instantly chastising himself for his forwardness. Of course she didn’t. She was there for dinner, not romance!

  “Certainly,” she said.

  A second later, he faced her and offered his hand and arm. Slowly she walked toward him and took his hand in hers, placing her other hand on his shoulder. He whisked her across the ballroom floor, smiling. This was what he had longed to do as soon as he saw the completed ballroom. To take a woman into his arms, a woman who fit him as Elsa did, and float across the entire length. He caught glimpses of them in the mirrors, the hollow between her shoulder blades, his own intent face, her glistening hair. She was so beautiful. He wanted this moment to last forever, but all too soon, the music stopped.

  She looked disappointed too, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Thank you, Karl. I was sorry we didn’t have another chance to dance at the Harvest Ball.”

  “I, too. Come, let us sit. The food should arrive any minute.” He escorted her to the table and pulled out her chair. Then he sat on the other side and raised his crystal goblet. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  “With an empty glass? Is that like an empty promise?”

  “Not at all.” She raised her own crystal flute and waited. “I’d like to make a toast to friendship.” Her smile faltered a little, even as they touched the glasses together for a bell-like ding, and it was only then that Karl thought of the application to Mara Kenney as well as to Elsa. He was about to say something else, to amend it, when she spoke.

  “And I’d like to make a toast as well.”

  “Of course.”

  “To dining like this every night of our journey to Alaska. The crew will love it.”

  Karl raised his eyebrows. “You really think you can beat my ship, eh?”

  “Every night. She’s the prettiest ship I’ve ever seen, but she’ll also be slower than molasses. She’s too heavy.”

  “We shall see. To the potential of dining on the Fair Alaska.” “To dining on the Fair Alaska.” Their glasses met again.

  sixteen

  Lora Anders was hot. Stifled was a better word for it. She felt ill at ease, agitated, and could not seem to sit still through her attacker’s long-overdue trial. She fought the urge to pull at her high-necked collar, trying in vain to keep her hands in her lap. The small schoolhouse was packed with every townsperson who couldn’t wait to hear what the respected Mrs. Storm-to-be had to say against her assailant. Tora could hear the gossip already.

  It was all his fault.

  That she was here.

  That she and Trent and her friends had to bear this. Decker.

  Dirty, despicable…she cast about for the last descriptive word that would define her assailant. Lost. Lost? The word stunned her. It had a quality of empathy that she did not care for. Lost? Yes, lost to this world. Lost to her. She should be happy. After today, Decker would be out of her life forever. What judge would dare to question Trent Storm? Once he took the stand, it was all over, regardless of what Tora’s past had been. He was Trent Storm, after all. And it was his testimony that would send the man to the gallows. Tora was certain of it.

  Decker looked at her, and Tora immediately looked away, but not before she identified the look in his eyes. Gloating? It was he who would have to face the gallows. Not her. So why would he gloat? The man didn’t even have an attorney. There were few solicitors in Alaska. It was up to the judge to exact justice. And Tora aimed to turn the judge in her favor. If she dropped her eyes here, teared up there, he’d play right into her hands.

  You are thinking of your old ways, came the Voice.

  Tora swallowed hard. But this is justice, Father. He tried to take me again! And his intentions were not holy! Tears came to her eyes. It wasn’t fair. She was created with certain physical attributes, attributes that may have contributed to his abuse of her. So shouldn’t she be able to use her looks in her favor to exact justice? To help justice prevail? The tears fell to her cheeks.

  Trent looked at her. “Are you all right?” he whispered, his eyes filled with concern.

  She nodded, trying to sort out what she was feeling. I need to concentrate on the facts, she thought. Decker is just playing me. Using me emotionally as he once used me physically. I will not play into his hands again! I will not! This time, he pays. “He pays,” she whispered, summoning every ounce of hate she had ever felt for Decker.

  Her attention went to Sara, the waifish waitress Decker had assaulted at the roadhouse. Seeing her on the stand, shaking as she took the oath, one small hand on a black Bible—seeing her tremble as she reached for a tepid glass of water, hearing her voice crack as she fought to speak up as the judge asked her to do—made Tora furious all over agai
n.

  And then when dear Trent took the stand, spoke of that horrendous evening when Decker tried to abduct her again… Seeing his ashen face and clenched lips made her even angrier that Decker had hurt not only her, but the man she loved.

  Even Christina and Jess had lost sleep for a week, afraid that he might get out of jail. He was a monster, and there was no way to reach him. And yet, hadn’t she tried to reach Decker? Hadn’t she gone above and beyond the call of duty? It was up to him now; she’d done all God had asked of her. Even though her heart had resisted. His eyes told her he was lost. Well, for good reason. He was lost. And none of it was her fault. None of it.

  Decker’s afternoon-long trial ended with Tora’s testimony. The judge gently asked her to point toward the man who had kidnapped her, “manhandled” her, and then set her off on a train to Seattle with no money or food or water.

  “There,” she said, pointing toward Decker. It surprised her that her finger did not shake. She rose, suddenly uncontrollably furious. “That is the man!” she spat out. “He told me not to look out of that…cattle car or he would blow my ‘pretty little head off.’ What choice did I have? He’s an animal, Your Honor.”

  The court erupted with the loud murmurs of the onlookers. The judge rapped his gavel on the desk and yelled, “Order, order! Get control or I’ll throw the lot of you out the door!”

  It immediately quieted, and Tora took her seat. “He deserves any punishment you give him, Your Honor,” she said, turning back toward the judge and clutching her handkerchief. She wanted Decker to hang, to be out of her life forever.

  “When exactly were you abducted, Miss Anders?” asked the kindly judge.

  “Thanksgiving 1884.”

  “Nice day you chose, Mr. Decker,” the judge said.

  Tora dared to look at him. The prisoner did not deny his deeds. He just smiled.

  “And there is no doubt in your mind that this is the man?”