Forever My Own

by Tracie Peterson

  “That’s probably Habram,” Mormor called from the kitchen. “Go ahead and let him in, but tell him to take off his boots. I’m not going to let all this cleaning be for nothing.”

  Kirstin nodded and opened the door with a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr.—” She halted. It wasn’t Habram.

  “Well, good morning to you, pretty miss. Is your . . . is Mrs. Segerson home?”

  “Ja. You may come in, but take off your boots,” Kirstin said, glancing down at his feet. “We just cleaned.”

  “Of course.” He took the chair just inside the door and began to pull his boots off one at a time. “And I’ll hang my hat and coat on the peg like before.”

  “What is your name? I’ll tell my grandmother that you’ve come.”

  “Mr. Jordan Webster. She knows me.”

  Kirstin went into the pantry room at the back of the kitchen. “Mr. Webster has come to see you.”

  Mormor dusted off her hands. “Pesky man. Seat him to the table. I’ll bring the coffee.”

  Kirstin returned and found Webster standing by the kitchen table. “Have a seat there, please. Mormor—my grandmother is bringing the coffee.”

  “Yes, I see her now. Mrs. Segerson, good afternoon.”

  “Ja, it is, and very busy too. Would you like some coffee and cake?”

  “I would. Your refreshments are always the best in the neighborhood.”

  “Then have a seat.”

  He sat at the table like an obedient schoolboy. Kirstin wondered what this man had to do with her grandmother. She remembered nothing mentioned of him in Mormor’s letters. Then again, perhaps he was a new visitor from the past few months.

  Mormor brought him a cup of coffee and a slice of smörkaka—butter cake—then went back to fetch cream and sugar. “Join us, Kirstin.” It sounded like a command, so Kirstin went to get herself a cup of coffee and sat with them at the table. She sipped her coffee, then poured a generous amount of cream in the cup. Mormor made coffee like Far did—strong enough to strip the morning from his eyes, as he always said.

  “How have you been, Mrs. Segerson?”

  “Since you were here last week?” Mormor smiled and glanced at Kirstin. “I am doing very fine. My granddaughter has come to live with me. So you see, I am not going to sell my house anytime soon.”

  Mr. Webster looked at Kirstin and gave her a smile, seeming to ignore the latter comment. “And where have you come from, Miss Segerson?”

  “My name is Hallberg,” Kirstin corrected. “Miss Kirstin Hallberg. I came here from Sweden, where my parents still live.”

  “Ah, well, it’s very nice to make your acquaintance. And you’ve come to live with your grandmother?”

  “Ja.” Kirstin couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. Mormor had mentioned something about selling her house. Perhaps Mr. Webster wanted to buy it. At least, that was what she felt was implied. “And why have you come to see my grandmother, Mr. Webster?”

  He chuckled. “I like a woman who speaks her mind. I have been trying to get your grandmother and her neighbors to sell me their properties. You see, I want to build a very fine hotel on this land.”

  “But then where would they live?”

  “Well, I would pay them a fair price, and they would buy new property.”

  “Mr. Webster doesn’t seem to understand that we have no interest in moving from this place. This is our home and neighborhood. We helped build one another’s houses. We help each other every day and are the best of friends. We wouldn’t have that if we moved away,” Mormor interjected.

  Kirstin looked at the handsome stranger. His dark hair and blue eyes were captivating and quite beautiful. He had long eyelashes for a man. Mor would say he was too pretty for a boy and that those lashes were wasted on him. Kirstin smiled at the thought.

  “You seem very happy today, Miss Hallberg.”

  “I’m always happy, Mr. Webster, though that is hardly your concern.” She nodded toward his cup. “Would you like more coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Kirstin went to the stove, where the pot was warming on the back. What manner of man was this that he would pester Mormor about buying her house even when she’d made it clear she had no desire to sell?

  “Here you are.” She put the coffee on the table as he pushed back his empty cake plate.

  “We’re very busy with our cleaning today, Mr. Webster,” Mormor began. “I am sorry to keep disappointing you, but I cannot help you. We have talked in the neighborhood, and no one wants to move.”

  “Yes, but many assure me they would sell and move if you did.”

  “So you see,” she continued, “we aren’t interested in leaving.”

  “But, Mrs. Segerson, there are so many beautiful properties available to which you could move.”

  “Perhaps you could use those properties for your luxury hotel.” Mormor got to her feet. “I’m afraid I must finish my work in the pantry. Kirstin will show you out.”

  “Please. Just listen to reason. I don’t want to do this in such a manner as to force your hand.”

  Mormor frowned. “You do what you feel you have to do, Mr. Webster. Good day.”

  Kirstin had never seen anyone in her family be quite this dismissive with someone. She sat momentarily surprised by her grandmother’s reaction and wondered what she should do. Thankfully, Mr. Webster got to his feet.

  “I suppose I have worn out my welcome.”

  Kirstin rose and nodded. “I don’t think Mormor wants to sell her house.” She smiled. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. I’m afraid it won’t bode well for these people. I might have paid them a decent price, but now they’ll be lucky to get half of what I would have offered. When I’m done meeting with the town council, the people here will be sorry for not having been more cooperative.”

  Kirstin frowned. “You sound almost threatening, but it must be my poor English. A gentleman would surely never be so inconsiderate.”

  “I am a gentleman, Miss Hallberg, but I am not a fool. I’m used to getting what I want, however, and I intend to have this land. You can tell that to your grandmother.” He finished pulling on his boots and reached for his outer coat and hat.

  Kirstin had no idea what to say to him, so she said nothing. There was nothing that would offer him comfort anyway. Once he was gone, Kirstin locked the door in case he had any ideas of returning and letting himself into the place.

  “Mormor, who is that man, and why is he being so firm about taking your house?”

  “He wants everyone’s land in this area. He has it in his mind to build some sort of lake resort, even though we’re in the bay and river area. It’s on the water here, yet protected, and with his desire to build several floors, he says people will be able to see the lake quite nicely and yet be right in the city at the same time. He’s pushy, and it will get him nowhere.”

  “Well, he seems to think it will. He said to tell you that he’s used to getting what he wants and he intends to have this land.”

  “Folks have all sorts of intentions, but they are often unrewarded. He’ll have to have his disappointment and move on.”

  “He sounded menacing there at the end. You don’t think he means to cause anyone physical harm, do you?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He’s spoiled. You can tell his folks probably never denied him.” Mormor finished dusting the rows of jars holding her canned meats. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  Another knock sounded at the front door. Kirstin put out her hand as Mormor started for the door. “I’ll get it. Maybe he forgot something. I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with it.”

  Kirstin made her way back to the front of the house and opened the door as she glanced at the row of pegs beside her. Mr. Webster hadn’t left anything behind that she could see. When she turned back to the door, she found her brother Domar staring at her, open-mouthed.

  “You . . . but you’re . . . you’re dead.” Kirstin felt her breath catch.

 
The handsome young man standing behind her brother gave him a punch in the arm and laughed. “You hear that, Domar? You’re dead.”

  Her brother shoved the man away. “Don’t be cruel. Can’t you see this is a shock to her?” He turned back to Kirstin. “I didn’t expect you either. I’m sorry for the shock. I truly am. Where’s Mormor?”

  Kirstin backed up, but she couldn’t speak.

  Domar eased past her. “Mormor, are you here?”

  Their grandmother emerged from the pantry and looked first at Kirstin and then Domar. “Oh dear. I wasn’t expecting you this week, Domar.”

  The handsome man who’d accompanied Kirstin’s brother stepped into the house in order to close the door.

  “You boys take off your boots. We’ve been cleaning all day,” Mormor commanded.

  Domar immediately undid the lacings on his boots, but the man beside Kirstin hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for, Ilian?” Domar asked.

  Kirstin looked back and forth between her brother and the handsome man as her vision blurred and tunneled to black.

  “I think your sister is going to faint.”

  That was the last thing Kirstin heard.

  Chapter 4

  “Well, there you are. You’ve made her faint,” Mrs. Segerson told Domar. “I wasn’t expecting you until next week, and I haven’t had a chance to tell her you’re still alive. Ilian, bring her to the kitchen table. I’ll get some smelling salts.”

  Ilian looked down into the face of the petite woman he held. Her honey-brown hair had been plaited into a single braid, but bits of hair had come loose. He found himself tempted to sweep them away from her face as she slept.

  He brought her to the table and then, not knowing what else to do, took a seat still holding her in his arms.

  “This should wake her up.” Mrs. Segerson waved the open bottle of ammonia under the girl’s nose.

  Domar’s sister sputtered and gave a sharp jerk to get away from the smell. Ilian held her tight. “Whoa, now. Don’t be fighting so.”

  She opened her eyes and grew still. “Who are you?”

  Ilian chuckled. “I’m the man who caught you before you hit the floor. Ilian Farstad.”

  “You’re Mr. Farstad’s son, ja?” She shook her head as if trying to regain her senses.

  Ilian forced himself not to frown. “Ja. That’s who I am.”

  “Domar?” she whispered and grabbed Ilian’s arm. “Is he . . . did he . . .” She sat up slightly and looked around.

  “He’s here.” Ilian kept his voice soft so as not to startle her.

  “I’m so sorry, Kirstin. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that Domar is alive,” her grandmother apologized, taking the seat opposite Ilian and Kirstin. “I was going to tell you soon, since they planned to come here next week. I didn’t know they were coming today.”

  “The wind caused a lot of problems, and the boss sent us for more chains,” Domar explained.

  Ilian said nothing. He rather liked the feel of Domar’s sister in his arms, and she seemed not in the least hurry to move. In fact, she was gripping his arm rather tightly. Of course, she had just seen a ghost.

  She finally found her voice. “How can you be alive?”

  “Why don’t you tell her the full story, Domar?” Mrs. Segerson suggested.

  Domar nodded. “What do you know about what happened . . . with Willa and Olaf?”

  “Your friend Olaf put her in the family way but said it was you,” Kirstin answered. “Everyone turned against you, even Mor and Far.”

  “So you pretty much know what happened,” Domar replied.

  “No, I don’t. You died on the ship coming to America. That’s what I know.” She looked at Ilian as if he might offer answers.

  Ilian shifted his weight and hers. “Let him explain.”

  Kirstin looked back at Domar. It seemed she still didn’t register that a complete stranger was holding her. Not that Ilian minded.

  “Olaf and I were very close, as you know,” Domar began. “Willa too. We were all dear friends, but then Olaf and Willa began spending more alone time together, and she became . . . pregnant.”

  “What a word,” Mrs. Segerson said, rolling her eyes.

  “With child,” Domar corrected. “But it so terrified Olaf because he knew his father expected great things of him, and Willa was from a poor family. So even though he loved her, Olaf ran away and blamed me. He told Willa’s father that I was the one responsible. When Mr. Bergquist came to demand I marry Willa, I told him I was not the father and would not marry her. That started the whole problem.”

  Kirstin nodded. “But you weren’t the father.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Ja. It’s true, I was not. But not even Mor and Far would believe me. No one but you.”

  “But they do now. Olaf told everyone he lied. At first everyone thought he was just saying that for your sake, but when the baby was born with Olaf’s red hair, they knew better. I was so mad at Mor and Far that I was very unkind.” Kirstin seemed to be getting over her shock. “I told them they were wrong not to believe in their son.”

  “No one in Sweden rallied behind me, save you.” Domar smiled. “You were always faithful, Kirstin, and I appreciate that more than you will ever know. When they made me leave town, you were the only one I regretted telling good-bye. I was so hurt by the others that I didn’t care about leaving everyone and everything.”

  “What about the ship and the wreck?” she asked, loosening her grip on Ilian’s arm.

  Domar shrugged. “The ship hit a bad storm. We were nearly to Nova Scotia and thought we’d be all right. They pressed on, thinking it the best they could do, but it was too much for the old ship. She began to break apart when we were still five miles out. Five miles can seem like five hundred when you’re on the water and you’re being lashed by wave and wind. It soon became clear all hope was lost, and the ship was abandoned. I was blown from the deck into the water and felt certain I was meant for a watery grave, but one of the sailors managed to get me to safety. He and I alone survived. The rest of the lifeboats capsized.”

  “Yet you let us believe you were dead.” Her tone was accusing.

  “He had good reason, don’t you think?” Ilian asked.

  She looked at him for a moment, then seemed to realize all at once that she was being held by a man she didn’t know. “What are you doing?” She pushed him away and got to her feet.

  “Be nice to him, Kirstin. He saved you from hitting the floor,” Domar said, smiling. “It’s not his fault you fainted.”

  “I fainted because the dead had come back to life.” She took the chair between Ilian and her grandmother, then nodded at Ilian. “Thank you for catching me.”

  Ilian raised his brows and grinned. “I assure you it was my pleasure.”

  Kirstin ignored him and focused on her brother. “It’s been nearly eleven years. You let us believe you had died. How could you be so cruel?”

  Domar sobered. “I thought it was for the best. No one believed me when I gave them the truth. Why should I be honest with them about my survival? I figured they’d all be happy to have me out of their lives.”

  “But Olaf confessed that the child was his. He made things right and married Willa, despite his father being less than pleased. They’re quite happy now and have four children.”

  “I’m glad he did the right thing, but it was too late for me. The villagers didn’t give me a chance. They called me a liar and shunned me. They shamed our parents and spoke badly of them. You have no idea the horrible things they said in judgment. They didn’t care about the truth. Even our parents chose to believe someone else over me.”

  Kirstin bit her lip for a moment. “But, Domar, you were a rather wild young man. You liked your drink and acted selfishly at times.”

  “I did. But I always admitted my wrongdoing. I never lied, and Mor and Far knew that full well. Yet they chose not to believe me when I told them what was going on. They didn’t encourage
anyone to believe me. Only you did. That’s why when Mormor told me you were coming, I was glad. I’ve always wanted you to know I’m alive.”

  “Mormor, how could you do this?” Kirstin asked, turning to her grandmother for an answer. “You kept this from your own daughter, knowing the pain Domar’s death caused her. How could you do that?”

  “I made Domar a promise.” Mrs. Segerson looked at the smelling salts in her hand rather than face her granddaughter’s accusing stare. Ilian felt sorry for her. Lena Segerson had been nothing but kind to him, even though she had a great friendship with his father, whom Ilian despised.

  “What kind of promise?” Kirstin demanded.

  Mrs. Segerson hesitated for several long moments.

  “Please, Mormor. Tell me so I can understand. My mother has mourned the loss of her firstborn all these years. She has hated herself for not believing him and has blamed herself for his death. How could either of you be so heartless? I was angry at Mor and Far and our brother and sister as well. Brita, of course, was too little to blame Domar, but the others knew better. It tore our family apart, and yet the two of you did nothing.”

  “They didn’t deserve anything else. They sent me away,” Domar replied.

  Kirstin got to her feet. She looked at her brother and then grandmother and finally turned to Ilian before resettling on Domar. “You were hurt by what they did. I understand that fully. I was hurt by it too. But while they acted out of ignorance, you chose to put a knife in your mother’s heart. How could you?”

  “They put that knife in my hands, Kirstin. They told me they never wanted to see me again. Told me I was dead to them. So I left, and when the opportunity came to be dead, I was only fulfilling their own words. Now I am truly dead to them.”

  Kirstin shook her head, and Ilian saw tears in her eyes. “But they learned the truth and were sorry. They wanted to tell you so, but because they thought you were dead, they could not.”

  “And I count that as justice. A person should never pass judgment on what is not theirs to judge. Yet an entire village passed it on me, and still you think me cruel.” Domar crossed his arms.