Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  Be still.

  That’s right, Kaatje thought. They were in a nice clean hospital where they did this kind of thing all the time, not on a field of battle. But what if they didn’t get the bullet out? What if James was permanently injured? If they could not heal his body, she wondered if his spirit—

  Be still.

  All right, Lord, she prayed silently, leaning her head against the cool tile of the hallway wall. I’m here, Father. And you hear my cry. I know you do. I’m begging you to bring James back to me, in a wheelchair or not. Just let him live, Lord. Let him be with me.

  Suddenly after losing Soren once and for all, the thought of losing James seemed unbearable. What if he had died that day? Without Kaatje ever having the chance to say good-bye? The thought brought her to her knees, literally, and she sobbed into her hands.

  Karl and Elsa were immediately by her side, lifting her to her feet, guiding her to one of the few hard wooden chairs that lined the hallway. “I…I’m sorry,” she said through her tears. “It is all…so much.”

  Karl left to get Kaatje some coffee while Elsa hugged her tight. “It will be all right, Kaatje. These doctors are good at what they do. One way or another, it will work out for good. I promise. I promise you.”

  Kaatje clung to her and her promise, hoping against hope that James would live. It mattered not whether he would walk again. It only mattered that he would live.

  As Kaatje watched the nurse approach, a Catholic nun in a bleached-white uniform and large hat, she steeled herself for the worst news. The nurse’s expression was cold and distant, exactly as it might be if she found herself the unwelcome bearer of bad tidings. Kaatje grabbed Elsa’s hand and squeezed it tightly, as if she could pull in some of her strength and borrow it for a while.

  “Mr. Walker has made it through surgery,” the nun said crisply.

  Surprised, Kaatje gasped for air, so sure that it was bad news she would be given.

  “The doctor was successful at extracting the bullet, and shall be out shortly to tell you more of his prognosis for Mr. Walker’s future.”

  “Thank you,” Elsa said, apparently seeing that Kaatje could not speak. “We’ll wait here for him.”

  The nurse gave them a curt nod and was off down the hall, writing on a chart as she went. Kaatje smiled through her tears. James was alive.

  She turned to Elsa and embraced her, still crying, but in joy, not fear now. “Oh, Elsa.”

  “He’s alive, dearest! He’s alive!” Elsa’s voice expressed all the celebration Kaatje herself felt inside. When Elsa released her, Karl hugged her too, throwing social custom to the wind.

  They all stood then, waiting for the doctor.

  “He’s gone out for a four-course dinner before speaking to us,” Elsa complained in a whisper, twenty minutes later.

  “Shh,” Kaatje said, eyeing a couple of nurses as they passed, even though she felt just as impatient as Elsa. At last the doctor arrived, looking at his chart as if reading a speech instead of looking them in the eye.

  “Our patient has done well,” he began. “The surgery went as expected, although the bullet was more difficult to dislodge than we had originally anticipated. It is good that you left it in at the time of the accident, for if you had tried to remove it outside of the hospital, you would certainly have killed him.” He eyed Elsa with a hint of appreciation in his eyes; Kaatje had told him how Elsa had cared for James that day.

  But the flicker of anything good in his eyes left the next second. “Because of the trauma Mr. Walker suffered during surgery in extracting the bullet, I am afraid that he has a reduced chance at regaining the use of his legs. But again, it is good that we went in and took it out. There was scar tissue forming that would eventually have caused him great pain, and perhaps cut off all feeling to his legs, and ultimately would have killed any chance to walk. This surgery, at the very least, has assured him of a decent life span.”

  “Then he will live? “ Kaatje asked.

  The doctor frowned at her as if she were questioning his license to practice medicine. “Of course. He is weak and cannot have any visitors for a day or two. But he should live.”

  Kaatje breathed another sigh of relief. “There was no sign of infection?”

  “No.”

  “And in regard to his walking. Although you think he has a reduced chance, there still might be hope?”

  “The spinal cord is intact, but damaged. To what extent, I could not ascertain. But if I were a gambling man, I would say his only hope is a miracle from God.”

  Elsa put her arm around Kaatje again. “We’ve seen them before,” she said without batting an eye. “We’ll pray for another.”

  The following day, still blocked from visiting James, Elsa drew Kaatje away from the hospital to take the girls for an appointment with Madame de Boisiere. “Come. We’ll have her make you something smashing. More beautiful than you’ve ever had before. A ball gown! That’s it! And then we’ll go and buy a readymade suit for James. For when he walks again. When he can take you dancing.”

  Kaatje looked out the window of the carriage. “I do not think James danced even before the accident,” she said. The girls glumly stared from their mother to their aunt.

  “Remember the last time we did this?” Elsa asked, waggling her eyebrows.

  “You were pregnant with Eve!” Christina said, her face melting from a worried frown into a smile.

  “And now she’s with us!” Jessica said, giving the youngest girl a sisterly hug. “Do you want a pretty dress, Eve?”

  “Yes, yes!” the small girl replied.

  “I want a hat,” Christina announced. “A grown-up hat.”

  “You are looking more and more grown-up,” Elsa said, nudging Kaatje. Her friend sat up straighter, seeming to refocus on the girls. They mattered most at that moment.

  “You are,” Kaatje added. “Perhaps you could get a grown-up hat today.”

  “And me?” Jessica asked hopefully.

  “Yes.”

  Eve quickly followed suit.

  “No, no,” Elsa said good-naturedly. “Someday. When you are nine or ten years old. And not until then.”

  “But what color gown for you, Kaatje?” Elsa asked. “What color would make you feel pretty and alive and glad for everything?”

  Kaatje shot her a strange look, but curbed whatever was at the tip of her tongue. “Green.”

  “Ooh,” Elsa said, nodding. “Like the color of your Christmas dress?” She grimaced as soon as she said it, remembering that Soren had given the fabric to her friend.

  But to her credit, Kaatje just nodded back, with a wistful smile at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, like that. But with a little more blue in it.”

  “To better match your eyes.”

  “If I am allowed to be so vain.” She blushed a bit, making her cheeks spotty with red, while a wave of pink went up one side of her neck. “And in a heavy silk.”

  “Will you make it a ball gown with yards and yards of fabric to tie up in a bustle?” Jessica asked excitedly.

  “No,” Kaatje said thoughtfully, staring out the window for a moment. She turned back to them all with resolution in her eyes. “I want Madame de Boisiere to make me the most stunning traveling suit she can. Something to encourage James to stand and walk beside me. And something to wear on Karl’s marvelous ship,” she added.

  “That’s a lovely idea,” Elsa said.

  “Especially with no ball invitation in hand or expected,” Kaatje added. Juneau and even Ketchikan were growing, but had never had an occasion more formal than a town dance. “We could come here for a ball,” Elsa said.

  “No. I think I want the traveling suit.”

  “Why not both?”

  “Both?” Kaatje scoffed.

  “Both,” Elsa returned evenly. “You are a woman of some means now, Kaatje. Even if you only use the proceeds from the gold mine to care for your children. You have lived long on little. Why not indulge a bit? What about a perfect traveling su
it in green and a ball gown in a lovely rose?”

  Kaatje smiled at her girls, and Elsa could practically see the visions from Godey’s Ladies Book dancing through her head. “Indulge?”

  Her daughters stared back at her, wide-eyed.

  “Well, maybe just a little.”

  All three girls squealed together as if it were Christmas morning. After a few more blocks, they were there, admiring the dresses in one window, and then another. But as they entered the store, there was one last window. Elsa stopped dead in her tracks.

  It was the most beautiful wedding gown she had ever seen. Striking in its simplicity, but elegant from bodice to hem. Kaatje wrapped her arms around Elsa’s waist. “Oh, Elsa. You must have it! You must!”

  Elsa’s hand went to her mouth. “Do you think so? It’s right? For me?”

  “Perfect. It was made for you. Come. Let’s have Madame de Boisiere bring it into the shop for you to try on.”

  “All right,” Elsa said excitedly. They went into the shop, relishing the tinkle of the doorbell as they entered, and the smell and sights of rich fabrics all around them. Madame de Boisiere was with a customer, but once she saw them, she beckoned an assistant to take over and came to greet them. In minutes, she had brought the dress in from the window.

  “It eez about your size,” she said, nodding with approval as she looked Elsa over from shoulder to hip like a butcher eyeing a cow.

  Elsa’s pulse raced as she touched the smooth ivory silk of the dress. It had short capped sleeves that were trimmed with heavy satin fringe and a deep drape across the bust and at the back. Underneath the tight bodice, the skirt was gathered at the waist and then continued in luxurious horizontal folds to the floor. It had a modest train, and intricate embroidery at the bottom of the entire skirt—done in a continuous swirling, Greek flourish—before meeting the matching trim of satin fringe.

  Elsa was excited to dress in the gown, and she forced herself to walk sedately toward a dressing room to the right. Wordlessly, an assistant came with her to help her undress and then don the gown. When Elsa had removed her own summer dress, the assistant frowned at her and then left, holding up one finger. When she returned, she had a beautiful corset in hand, decorated with delicate lace and satin ties. Compared to her own utilitarian corset, it was lovely, but Elsa shook her head at the folly of the idea of it.

  “It is your wedding day, no?” said the French maid.

  “It will be. But—”

  “No buts. You simply cannot wear this wedding gown,” she said, gesturing to the window-display gown, now hanging on her dressing room door, “over that.”

  Elsa laughed and then shrugged her shoulders. Why not? It would be her wedding day! She had encouraged Kaatje to indulge a little. Why not do so herself? In short order, the assistant had her dressed and was fussing with the sleeves. “Madame will want to take these in a leetle. Otherwise, it eez perfect, no?”

  Elsa shook her head while she smiled. It was perfect. Perfectly lovely. Taking a deep breath, she exited the dressing room to see what Kaatje and the girls thought. Judging from their reaction, it was as wonderful as she thought. The girls clapped their hands together, all talking at once, and Kaatje came to her to fuss with the drape of the skirt. “You look like a princess,” Kaatje said.

  “Wait,” Madame de Boisiere said. She left them for a moment and then returned with a choker of pearls and gold beads, fastening it around Elsa’s neck. Elsa laughed as the girls aahed in appreciation—she would be purchasing the choker too.

  “Well, that was simple. Perhaps we should get on with finding the girls’ dresses and those two you spoke of, Kaatje.” Madame de Boisiere turned to help Kaatje locate the patterns she desired in a large book on a side table. The girls moved to the bolts of fabric, admiring this one, hoping they could get a dress in that one, while Elsa turned to the long, oval mirror and stared at her reflection.

  She was going to do it. She was going to marry Karl. And she hoped that everything on her, from corset to choker, pleased her husband-to-be. Her smile faded. If they ever found the chance to marry. Life had gotten complicated. Scheduled to take another trip to Ketchikan, Juneau, and Glacier Bay, Karl had ruefully left Elsa and the children behind to stay with Kaatje and her girls as James convalesced.

  Elsa had thought about planning a wedding in Ramstad House for when he returned, but that didn’t seem right for them. The idea of waiting until they could get back to Ketchikan seemed distant too. Who knew how long they would be here with Kaatje and James? She sighed. Someday, somewhere, somehow they would marry. She ran a hand over her smooth bodice. Soon.

  James stared out the window at the limb of a great pine outside, as he had for weeks now. It was his one tie to his old life. The thick forests of Alaska had sheltered him, warmed him, even fed him once or twice when he shot squirrels from her limbs. Those days were gone now, he thought sourly. He supposed his future was filled with beds and white linens and sterile rooms. And yet his eyes could focus on little but the tree limb outside his window.

  Kaatje came each day, bringing drawings from the girls—they were not allowed inside the hospital—and occasionally Elsa visited. Karl came for a while, before he had to ship out again. For a moment each day, when James first caught sight of Kaatje’s bright eyes, he had to force himself to remember his infirmity, not to stumble out of bed as he eagerly tried to greet her. After that first moment when he practically forgot where he was, why he was there, then his mood would plummet, leaving him despondent. If only he could get out of bed and greet her as a man! If only he could leave his bed and run out of the hospital, out of the city, into the heavy forests that surrounded Seattle. That would heal him. That would give him strength.

  But God had not answered his prayers. James had prayed, prayed specifically for the gift to walk again. To be able to kneel in front of Kaatje and ask for her hand. But it was obviously not meant to be. He could barely sit unaided, let alone kneel. And with each day, he became more and more convinced that he should release Kaatje, send her away if she wouldn’t go on her own.

  So when she arrived that day, cheerfully arranging fireweed and daisies in a vase by his bed, he grabbed her arm more gruffly than he intended. She immediately halted her flower arranging, and her look of confusion and concern made James want to sink under his covers. But he did not. “Kaatje, stop. Please stop chattering as if all is well, as if all will be all right. We need to talk. Really talk.”

  Kaatje did as he bid, pulling a white wooden chair to his bedside. “Anything, James. We can talk about anything.”

  James cleared his throat, glancing to the tree limb outside his window then bravely back to Kaatje. “We have done it. We went through the surgery, hoping I would regain the use of my legs, but I have failed you.”

  “That’s not true, James. With each day you gain a little movement…”

  He held up a gentle hand to hush her. “A half-inch here and there does not add up to walking.”

  “A half-inch each day eventually adds up to a foot of change.”

  “I think it’s stopping, Kaatje. My progress. There has been little change in the last few days.”

  “You’ve stopped pushing yourself, James.”

  “Because it’s not worth it. I don’t see the end of it. Why work so hard? It would have been better for me to die on that table.”

  Kaatje rose, shaking, and walked toward the window. The blood had drained from her face. Then she did something James never saw coming: she turned around and shook her index finger at him. “You listen to me, James Walker. We have been through too much for me to watch you lie down and die. Tora Storm told you how it was, and you listened. I agreed with her, afraid to say all that she did, but agreeing nonetheless. You think I don’t see you, gazing out to the trees, day after day? You don’t think I know the longing in your heart to be free of this cursed hospital and that bed or chair? I feel your pain, James,” she said, shuddering, pointing at her chest, “as if it were me. I wish it were me.
I wish it had been me that took that bullet. Because if it were me, I wouldn’t give up. I would give life every possible chance. Because I had my girls. Because I had you.”

  Tears were streaming down her face. “I am obviously not enough. It has to come from inside you, James.” The door opened behind her as an anxious nurse appeared, alerted by the noise, but Kaatje ignored her. “You have to reach down, down past the hurt and exhaustion and fear, and find that will to live, let alone walk. You have to remember that life is worth something, even if you are confined to a chair forever! Just because you have lost the use of your legs does not mean you have lost the power to be a man. On the contrary. You could show me you’re even more a man than you used to be, by doing all you can from the seat of a chair. Yes,” she said, nodding in response to the subtle shake of his head. “It’s true. Think about it. There are ways to be a man, even when you cannot be on a river just after ice break. It takes more here,” she said, pointing to her head, “and more here,” she said pointing to her heart, “but it is possible.”

  “Leave us,” he directed the nurse.

  “I must ask you to keep your voices down.”

  “Leave us,” he said just as insistently, but not any louder. Miffed, the nurse turned and left. He could not look at Kaatje. “Kaatje, I want you to leave me. Leave me here and get on with your life in Alaska. I promise I will not haunt you as Soren once did.” He laughed, without merriment. “Not that I could. But I won’t come to you; I won’t write. I want you to be free.”

  “Don’t you see?” She knelt and took his hand, forcing him to look at her. Pain was etched in every line of her face. “I am hopelessly in love with you, James. If you send me away, you will break my heart in a more cruel way than Soren ever did. He was thoughtless. But you have put great thought into this.”