Forever My Own

by Tracie Peterson

  “That’s the way I feel about my plans for the land—my hotel. I want to build something beautiful that will be valuable and special to a great many people.”

  “At the price of taking it away from others who love it as well? I fail to see why your interests should be more important than those of the people here before you. Aren’t you rather selfish for wanting everyone else to change for your needs?”

  Mr. Webster looked away as one might do when caught in the act of something illegal or, worse yet, immoral. When he didn’t answer, Kirstin bid him good day and headed on down the river path.

  “Wait,” he called to her.

  Kirstin turned, and he came toward her.

  “I have made myself unappealing to the folks in this neighborhood, but that was never my intention. I offered them more money than another developer might have because I wanted to be more than fair. I wanted this experience to be as good for them as it would be for me. I don’t understand why they don’t see it that way.”

  “Perhaps because some things cannot be bought with money, sir. Their memories are here. Their children grew up here, and some of them died here. Some fell in love, and many rely on the river for their jobs. You cannot expect a man to trade his livelihood for a small, temporary fortune. These are sensible people who know it’s better to go forward slow and steady. The money means very little if they cannot continue to earn a living. River and bay access is critical, just as the city believes a canal is critical. You must consider the way of the water. It’s life to them.”

  He shook his head, and Kirstin knew he would never understand.

  “I must bid you good day now, Mr. Webster. I’m sorry that you are so unhappy with us, but I suppose that’s just the way it must be.”

  “It won’t be that way for long. It’s been an obstacle, but in the long run I will have my way.” His tone turned angry, and his expression grew hateful. “These people don’t know me well enough to realize I get what I want.”

  Kirstin had the audacity to chuckle. “My mormor said that of you when I first met you. She said you were like a spoiled child who’d never been told no or made to wait. You’ve just said as much, but stranger still, you sound proud to be that way.” She shook her head. “Most men would have the good sense to be embarrassed.”

  She left him by the river.

  Chapter 16

  “There’s something I want you to see,” Mr. Farstad told Kirstin. “It’s quite interesting.”

  Kirstin looked up from her poached egg and toast. “What is it?”

  He laughed. “A surprise. If your mormor can spare you, we’ll go right after breakfast, just as the sun is about to come up.”

  “I’ve already given my permission,” Mormor said, bringing the coffee to the table. “I’ll take care of Ilian’s breakfast and dressing. You two don’t worry about a thing. He’s getting along so much better now that he can move about. He’s pretty spry for such a big man.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?”

  They all looked in surprise at Ilian. He stood in the dining room entryway, balancing himself quite capably on his crutches.

  “Look at you!” Kirstin hadn’t meant to be so excited, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m so happy for you. How does it feel?”

  “Not bad at all. The arm doesn’t hurt a bit. The leg is heavy from the cast, but otherwise just fine. In a few more weeks I should be right as can be.” Ilian’s entire demeanor was changed by this simple liberty that most took for granted.

  “Well, I am most impressed,” Mormor announced. “Come, we’ll figure out a way for you to eat at the table.”

  “No, I’m not dressed. That wouldn’t be right.”

  “It’s just fine,” Mormor declared. “It’s not like Kirstin and I haven’t seen you in your nightshirt every day for the past few weeks.”

  Habram got up and pulled together two chairs, while Kirstin went for pillows. She returned just as Habram was helping Ilian place his leg on the chair. “It’s not all that comfortable, I’m sure,” the older man said by way of apology.

  “No, I don’t think I’ve been truly comfortable since before the accident,” Ilian replied.

  “Well, the doctor is pleased with your healing,” Mormor said, bringing another plate to the table. She had already placed four poached eggs and two thick slices of ham on the plate. “Here you go. I was going to bring this to you in bed, but it’s so much nicer to have you here.”

  “What were you all discussing so intently when I came into the room?” Ilian asked.

  “Your father is taking Kirstin to see ice stacking.”

  Kirstin tucked a pillow behind Ilian’s back. She looked up. “Ice stacking? Someone is going to stack ice? Is that like when they harvest ice for the icehouse?”

  Habram laughed. “No. It’s much more amazing, and we won’t say anything more about it. It’s a surprise.”

  “You’ll love it,” Ilian replied, smiling at Kirstin.

  She liked him better this way. Perhaps the time to ponder his life and all that he’d been through had changed him. She knew he’d spoken to Pastor Persson. The older minister had wisdom from years of study. If anyone could help Ilian better understand forgiveness and God’s will for their life, it would be a man of God. Still, Kirstin had hoped to have a hand in Ilian’s transformation. She liked helping people that way. It was like watching caterpillars turn into butterflies. Of course, she had gotten herself into plenty of trouble by imposing herself into the lives of others, and she had also learned more than one lesson on pride.

  She didn’t want to be prideful about helping reconcile folks. She just got such a great sense of satisfaction from seeing fences mended.

  “Morfar, I saw Mr. Webster yesterday,” she mentioned, reclaiming her seat. “I was walking in the neighborhood, and he stopped me.”

  “I’ve heard his plans with the city are very soon to be approved,” Habram admitted.

  “What? Truly?” Kirstin could hardly bear the idea that so many people would lose their homes. “Perhaps we should go to the next council meeting.”

  “Ja. Could be that might prove useful,” he agreed. “There’s to be one tomorrow night, but I think the decision is made. My guess is we’ll have another month or so, but hardly more. I expect them to wind up business on this, because as soon as the thaw comes, the only thing that will concern them is going to be the canal.”

  “Habram’s right.” Mormor handed around the toast rack. “We must continue to pray for God’s direction and to be ready for whatever His will might be. I’ve already started to pack things, just as you suggested, Habram.”

  “Do you suppose His will would ever be to move you from the place you love?” Kirstin asked, glancing first at her grandmother and then to Morfar.

  “Sometimes things like that happen. It happened to Abram in the Bible. God told him to get out of his country,” Morfar reminded them. “Perhaps God is saying that to us as well. I figure we need to prepare our hearts—listen to God and not worry about what man is about to do.”

  “I wish I could feel at peace with it,” Mormor said, smearing jam on her toast. “Perhaps then it wouldn’t seem so unsettled.”

  The older man smiled. “We’re all here together, and we will fight for one another. No matter what, we have that, and we have God’s mercy. It will work out.” He scooted back from the table. “Now, Kirstin, if you are finished, hurry and get your boots and very warmest clothes, and we’ll go see ice stacking.”

  Kirstin was more than a little excited about their adventure. She was grateful that Mormor had insisted she wear a long woolen cape over her coat. Having never gone to the lake, Kirstin was unprepared for the stout wind that did its best to freeze her to the bone.

  It took twenty minutes to walk to where Morfar wanted them to be, but they arrived just as the sun crowned the eastern horizon. The rosy pink and orange colors, along with purples and pale reds, blended in a swirl across the sky. It was like a masterpiece painting, someth
ing drawn with exacting expertise. God’s expertise.

  “How beautiful!” Kirstin could scarcely look away. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you haven’t even observed the ice stacking yet.” Morfar pointed below to the rocky shoreline. “Look there and listen.”

  Kirstin followed his instructions. Down below on the shore, there were what appeared to be panes of glass pointing jaggedly to the sky. It looked as though someone had come along and stacked them there, row after row, to point heavenward. “That’s ice?”

  “It is. The water freezes on the surface, and then the wind blows it to shore and it breaks into great sheets.”

  She watched as the motion of the lake brought the ice to shore. “It looks like panes of glass for windows.”

  “It does,” he agreed. “It’s like nothing else. It will stack here for hours.”

  “Just listen to it. All the cracking and popping. It’s almost like music.” Kirstin marveled at the sight and sound. If not for the cold, she could have stood out there all day, watching and listening. “What a marvel.”

  “I’m glad you like it. A lot of folks find it fascinating, but some are afraid. The power of the lake is intimidating.”

  “It certainly is. But there’s so much more. The life it gives is also amazing. Mormor told me how fishing kept folks in town alive when all else failed. She said the beauty of this place was something that always stuck with her. Sure, there are scars put on the area by man’s attempts to remake it and settle it for themselves, but I remember the letters she wrote to us in Sweden. She spoke of the great forests and wildlife, the flowers and abundance, and always there was the lake.” Kirstin shook her head, still overwhelmed by the riot of colors in the sky. “How could a person not fall in love?”

  “It is a beauty, to be sure.” Habram gave it a long look. “When I first came here . . . well, it just felt right. It felt like home, and I’ve always loved it.”

  “You love my grandmother too.” She glanced at him as if to dare him to deny it. He didn’t.

  A smile touched his lips. “I do. She is a most precious woman, and her joy for living is unlike anything I’ve ever known.”

  “She would say that God wants us joyful. She loves the verses in James that tell us to ‘count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations.’”

  “Ja. We have discussed James many times. Counting all as joy is a hard thing to do.”

  Kirstin nodded. “I agree. It’s hard to see something like Mr. Webster’s actions against the neighborhood and count that as joy.”

  “But we must. As the Bible goes on to say in James, ‘Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.’”

  She laughed. “Ja, and ‘Let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.’ I have read it so often I’ve memorized it.” She shivered, and the old man reached for her arm.

  “We should head back.”

  “Oh, just a few more minutes,” she begged. “I don’t mind the cold.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Kirstin grinned. “I am. I have ice running in my veins, Far used to say. Being born in winter and raised in Sweden, the cold is not a bother to me. But leaving this too soon would be.” She stared out at the breaking ice, absorbing the sound, cherishing the moment. “Does it always do this?”

  “No. The temperature and winds have to be just right. When it comes, however, it is a wonder.”

  “It is. I shall always cherish this moment.”

  “Do you see the land just beyond this point?”

  Kirstin looked in the direction he pointed. “I do. It’s lovely.”

  “It has been suggested that this might be a good place to relocate the neighborhood. There’s some access to the lake and a great stream from a creek that comes down from the north. If we work together as a neighborhood, we could certainly have what we need. Some might have a greater need to keep their businesses on the river or closer to town, but for most of us, this could suffice.”

  “I just can’t bear to think of all of you being forced to leave. It seems so wrong, and yet I know our happiness—our joy—is in God’s hands. Do you remember that little prayer they teach Swedish children, the one that starts out ‘God who loves the children dear’?”

  “I think so. Let’s see if I remember it. ‘Gud som haver barnen kär, Se till mig som liten är. Vart jag mig i världen vänder, Står min lycka i Guds händer. Lyckan kommer lyckan går—Du förbliver fader vår. Den Gud älskar lyckan får. Amen.’”

  Kirstin clapped. “Ja, exactly so. It was written for the Crown Prince of Sweden nearly one hundred years ago. ‘God who holds the children dear, look after me, who is little. Wherever in the world I wander, my happiness is in God’s hands. Happiness comes—happiness goes. Thou remainest our Father. He who loveth God obtaineth happiness. Amen.’ Mormor taught it to me when I was young, and it was always so special to me.”

  “Why in particular?”

  Kirstin turned from the lake and started walking toward the path. Morfar took her arm to steady her on the ice. “I suppose it was comforting to know God was watching over me, but also because of what it said about happiness—or joy, as Mormor would say. She felt it was more than just being happy—it was a sort of spiritual joy that made us complete. My joy is in God’s hands. Happiness might come and go, but if we love God, we obtain true joy.”

  “I agree.” Morfar held on to her arm as they climbed a rocky place on the path. “My Sarah never taught the children to pray. She didn’t believe in it.”

  “How sad. I hope you did.”

  “I tried. I told the girls that their mother’s belief was in an indifferent God, while I thought God was very much interested in all we did. I told them that God listened to our prayers, despite what others might think, and that I knew this to be personally true. The girls started going to the Swedish Methodist Church with me, and they gave their hearts to Jesus even though their mother scoffed at their choice.”

  “How sad to have your own mother scoff at your decision regarding God.”

  “I can’t say I was much kinder about Ilian following his mother’s beliefs. But I’ve thought about what you said about truth, and I plan to share all that I know with Ilian. I just wanted to tell you of my plan because afterward . . . I think he will need a good friend.”

  Kirstin looked up at the older man. The wrinkles in his weathered face suggested a weariness of decades, but the twinkle in his blue eyes bore proof of a liveliness that carried on and would carry him forward for many additional years.

  “I will be a friend to him.”

  Morfar smiled. “I think you might one day be much more.”

  His words surprised Kirstin, but she did her best to hide her thoughts and hurried to put the focus back on Habram’s problems with Ilian. “I’m glad you’re going to talk to him. I have to admit to being a person who likes to fix bad situations. When I saw the problems you and Ilian shared, I wondered how I might have a part in changing things. I’m starting to see now that that isn’t how God would have me be.

  “After what happened to Domar, I spent a great deal of time trying to fix the hearts and minds of those in our village—in my family. Then, when the truth came out, there was some satisfaction in being right, and people thought me very wise. Now, with what’s about to happen, I feel only sadness for the lost and wasted years. I know there will be pain with the truth, and for the first time, I don’t want to be in the middle of trying to make this right.”

  “You’ve grown up, little Kirstin.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “When we’re young, we think we have all the answers—that we have all the wisdom needed.”

  “Then we grow up and realize just how much we lack.” Kirstin smiled.

  “Ja, but don’t forget your verses in James. The next section tells us that if we lack wisdom, we can ask God, and He will give.”

  Kirstin nodded. “Ja. He will give wisdom. His wisdom, not our own.”


  The following evening Habram and Lena took their seats among their neighbors at the city council meeting. It was soon called to order, and Joshua Culver spoke for several minutes as the mayor, introducing the men around him. Habram noticed the kindly Mr. Carson as well as Jordan Webster in the audience.

  The council went through a handful of short reports, and then old business was introduced. “We are, I believe,” Joshua began, “at that point where we will discuss the situation of Mr. Webster’s request.” He spoke for several minutes about what had been discussed at the last meeting. “Mr. Webster, we have considered your suggestion and found it has great merit for the city of Duluth. The waterfront properties are very important to our town’s success, and those in the area pointed out by you on your drawings appear to us to be of utmost importance for the shipping industry as well as town development.” He glanced around at the other council members. “Is this now new business? I get confused on that matter, but I want to suggest a vote on whether or not we should claim this portion of town through eminent domain.”

  Lucas Carson got to his feet. “May I be allowed to speak, sir?”

  “Of course, Mr. Carson.”

  Carson scanned the audience and then turned back to the council. “I think, in a matter of such great importance, we should at least hear from the people whose land would be taken.”

  “We have heard quite a bit from them, Mr. Carson. Many have come to see me privately,” Joshua said, glancing at Habram. “I am not without my own sentimentality, but the land in question is critical to the city. We’ve studied the situation, and you must admit that in the future, with further development of the shipyards and harbor, this land will be needed. It is best to deal with this now so we can focus on getting our canal opened.”

  “And the hotel will benefit the city as well,” Mr. Webster exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “The plans I have are extravagant and beautiful. The hotel will bring people to Duluth from far and wide.”