Forever My Own

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Forever My Own Page 20

by Tracie Peterson


  He put aside the blueprints and shook off his concerns about being the bad guy in this situation. Those people had houses already being built for them. New houses, at that. They weren’t having to face relocation to some ill-suited hovel. They were getting prime real estate overlooking the lake. Their fortunes had increased greatly. They should be grateful to him.

  He locked his hotel room and made his way downstairs. He was hungry, and it was time to celebrate what he’d accomplished.

  Ilian moved his checker and glanced up at Kirstin. “I think you can see that I’m about to win.”

  “Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “That much is obvious. My mind hasn’t really been on the game.”

  “Obviously not. Would you care to call the game and perhaps go for a walk instead? I could use the chance to strengthen my leg.”

  Kirstin smiled. “Of course. My grandmother and your father are busy plotting and planning for the new property.” She nodded toward the kitchen table, where they sat surrounded by papers and drawings. “They won’t even miss us.”

  She got to her feet and fetched her cloak while Ilian grabbed his boots and started pulling them on.

  “Are you two heading somewhere?” Lena asked.

  “A walk to strengthen Ilian’s leg,” Kirstin answered before he could.

  “That sounds good,” Far replied. “I’m glad you’re taking your recovery so seriously. You’ll regain that strength before you know it.”

  Ilian was still hesitant when dealing with his father. After years of setting himself against the man, it was hard to allow that Far had Ilian’s best interests at heart. So often his mother had told him that Habram Farstad cared about no one except himself. Now it was as if Ilian was allowing the scales to fall from his eyes.

  “You two be careful,” Mormor said as they made their way to the front door.

  “We’ll be fine,” Kirstin declared, opening the front door. “Oh, it looks like you have company.”

  A man approached them and tipped his hat.

  “I’m John Upham, and I need to speak with Mr. Farstad. I went next door, but he wasn’t there. He mentioned he often visits here.”

  “Yes, he’s here right now,” Kirstin replied and stepped back. “Mr. Farstad, a Mr. Upham is here to see you.”

  Far joined them at the door. “Let him in. Good to see you, John. What can I do for you?”

  “We need to dig that canal. Rumor has come up from St. Paul that the government is going to stop us from putting it through. We have to complete it before the injunction papers can reach us.”

  Ilian took hold of Kirstin’s arm, needing the support. She grasped his forearm. “Are you feeling weak?”

  “I always do at first. The leg seems to have a mind of its own.”

  They left Far and Mr. Upham in conversation and headed down the narrow path, seeming to fit perfectly side by side. Ilian let the silence stretch. He just wanted to enjoy this time with Kirstin.

  “I’ll miss it here, even though I like the new location for the house,” Kirstin said, glancing up at him in the fading light.

  “Ja. It will be hard to leave. I grew up here, you know.”

  “I had forgotten. I suppose it’s easy enough only to think of you as the man I know now.”

  Ilian wondered what she thought of that man. “This is the only neighborhood I have ever known. There were so many young children here, and I had lots of friends. They’re all gone now—moved off to other places. Duluth proved too difficult for some and far too isolated for others. I sometimes wonder if they would come back now that we have the train and the city has grown a bit.”

  “I’m still imagining you as a child,” Kirstin replied. “It’s hard because you are such a serious man. You seem old beyond your years, and I can’t imagine you ever being carefree.”

  “I don’t think I was carefree. My sisters were. They were all about loving life and enjoying themselves. They had great senses of humor and played jokes on the family. My mother hated that and often punished them for their behavior, while our far would just excuse it with a grin. They were very close.”

  “Your sisters and father?”

  “Ja. They were what Lena calls fun-loving.”

  “But not you?”

  “No. Not really. My mor said they were fools laughing their heads off, and that one day it would catch up with them and they’d regret their silliness.”

  “And did they?”

  “I don’t think my sisters regretted anything. They married young and moved away, and as far as I’ve ever heard, they have loved their lives and choices. I like to imagine they have taught their children to play some of those same pranks on each other.” He smiled as he considered it.

  “I like the sound of their happiness—their joy. It’s important to be happy, don’t you think?”

  Ilian had been without any real happiness in his life for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it if it came along. Kirstin was probably as close to it as he had gotten.

  “I’m trying to see it that way. Having grown up without it . . . well, I suppose it’s all new to me. Your grandmother has probably done the most to throw a little my way.”

  “Mormor is pure joy. I’ve never met anyone who enjoys life so much and makes good situations out of bad. Do you know she’s not complained once about Mr. Webster forcing her from her home?”

  “Really?”

  “She says that God is in charge of her life and that this must be His will for her. And if He has arranged all of this, she doesn’t want to miss the blessing.”

  Ilian shook his head. “She really is something else.”

  They walked down the road that led to the water’s edge. Everything about Duluth seemed to lead back to the water. It was always there—always a part of life. Ilian had never really felt called to it like others had. He definitely favored the land, but he had a healthy appreciation for the water.

  “How’s your leg?”

  “Weak but getting stronger.” He didn’t even try to pretend with her. He never felt the need. It was just one more reason he thought they worked well together.

  “The exercise will see you back to normal before you know it. I’m always happy to walk with you if I’m free from other duties. I like our walks.”

  “I do too. I like your company.”

  “You didn’t always,” she said, pulling her cloak closer. She looked at him and smiled. “I like the way things are between us now rather than the way they were.”

  “You stopped being quite so bossy,” he teased.

  “And you stopped being so mean.”

  He stopped. She paused as well. “Was I really that mean?” he asked.

  “Yes, and you well know it.” She softened her tone. “But I know God is working on you, just as He’s working on me.”

  His lips curved ever so slightly. “You don’t need much work. I think you’re pretty perfect.”

  Chapter 20

  Domar showed up the next evening for his regular visit and a good meal. He looked exhausted, and even Mormor was worried he’d been working too hard.

  “Well, the good news is that we won’t be working much longer,” he assured them. “At least not on our full schedule. The mud and muck is getting to be too much to deal with. That’s why we’ve been pushing ourselves so hard.”

  “And how are you liking being the boss?” Kirstin asked.

  “Being the boss isn’t all it’s thought to be. At least not for me. I miss the men and the friendships we shared. Everything changed when they started calling me boss.”

  Kirstin checked the water on the stove. There were four large pans of water, and each was boiling now. “It’s hot, if you’re ready for your bath.”

  “That’s sounds wonderful.” Domar suppressed a yawn as he looked around the sparse room. “You’ve really packed it all away, haven’t you?”

  Mormor chuckled. “We had to. We’re moving in two or three weeks.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll go through that p
ile of stuff you left me to sort. If it’s good enough to keep, I’ll rent a wagon and get it moved over to the new land. Speaking of which, I’m excited to see it.”

  “I don’t know what we would have done without that wonderful Mr. Carson.”

  “As I understand it, he and Mr. Cooke have bought up quite a bit of land in Duluth. I hope it proves beneficial to them.”

  “Mr. Cooke is busy with his new railroad. The Northern Pacific,” Kirstin declared. “I read about it just this morning in the newspaper. Do you know they have nearly one million acres of land for the railroad?”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Mormor said, shaking her head. “The world is a much bigger place than I ever thought.”

  “Where are Habram and Ilian?” Domar asked, getting to his feet. “The house next door was dark.”

  “They’re at the new place, working on it,” Mormor replied. “You’ll see it tomorrow. They’ve been quite busy getting it ready. We have to be off these properties by the twentieth of May, so they’re doing what can be done to make at least a portion of the new house livable. They’ve also got the shop up and running to make Mackinaw boats.”

  “Together?” Domar asked.

  “Hopefully.” Mormor gathered the last of Domar’s dishes. “They’re working on making peace. Since Ilian decided to accept Jesus as his Savior, he’s been quite thoughtful about making changes. Habram intends to speak to him about the past and explain things that Ilian has never been told.”

  Domar glanced at Kirstin. She gave him a nod. “Ilian says he wants to put the past behind him,” she confirmed.

  “That really would be a change for him. I’m glad to hear it.”

  Kirstin lifted the first of the pans of water off the stove. “I’ll take this to the tub. Don’t wait long, or it’ll be cold.”

  “I’m coming.”

  She smiled and made her way to the bathtub. After three more trips, she had the last of the hot water in the tub along with a small amount of cold water. Morfar had talked about having running water in their house one day. Wouldn’t that be something? For now, the pump was all they could count on.

  Domar came into the room, stripping off his shirt.

  Kirstin shook her head. “I should put more water on to heat. You’re going to need it to wash off the layers of dirt you’re sporting.”

  “Logging isn’t clean work, that’s for sure.” He paused. “Did you send our letters?”

  She nodded. “Mormor wanted to send one as well. She wasn’t sure at first, but I waited to send ours, and she decided it was the right thing to do.” She gathered the pans. “Now, you get in the tub before the water gets cold. I’ll bring some more as soon as it’s warmed.”

  Kirstin slipped out the back door and grabbed the bucket. She heard Morfar speaking to Mormor and knew he and Ilian had finally come back from their work. It couldn’t be easy for Ilian to be on his leg for such long hours, but she admired his willingness to work alongside his father. Especially since she knew there was still much for them to overcome.

  She’d nearly filled the bucket with water by the time the door opened and Ilian stepped outside. “Do you need help?”

  “No. I just decided to heat some more water for Domar. He’s taking a bath.”

  “So your grandmother said.”

  Kirstin started for the house with her pail, but Ilian stepped forward and took it from her. She gave him a smile. “And what about you and your father? Did you accomplish all that you hoped?”

  “We met with a client who wanted to order two Mackinaw boats. He wants them by the end of June, which I think is impossible, but you know my father.”

  She grinned. “Indeed, I do. He thinks nothing is impossible.”

  “We’ll have to ponder this and decide if we can take on the order.”

  They made their way back to the stove, where Kirstin took the pail and poured water into the pans. Next she made certain there was plenty of wood in the stove and stirred up the fire until the flames were burning bright. It wouldn’t take long to heat the water.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Where are Mormor and your father?”

  “He wanted to show her something at his house. Stuff he’d gathered together. I think he’s trying to figure out what to take and what to leave.”

  “Has he said anything about them marrying?”

  Ilian shook his head. “Not in so many words, but he did tell me that he wanted to talk to me about something. I figure it might be that. He probably wants to make sure it won’t further damage our situation if he remarries.”

  “And would it?” She met his blue eyes and momentarily forgot about her grandmother and Morfar.

  Ilian smiled as if knowing she was losing her heart to him. Could he tell? Was she wearing her heart on her sleeve? Maybe the time had come for her to say something. After all, her growing feelings weren’t just going to go away.

  “I want them to marry as much as you do.” He leaned back against the pantry door. “I think they belong together.”

  “But what about the past?”

  “What about it?” he asked, sounding irritable.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She turned back to watch the pots of water heat. Her feelings confused her. She wanted to demand answers, but at the same time she was concerned about what those answers might be.

  “Kirstin.”

  She turned to find him watching her. When he didn’t continue to speak or attempt to move toward her, Kirstin raised her brows. “Say what you will.”

  He sighed. “I have a great deal I’d like to say to you, but the time isn’t right. I’m not ready.”

  She shrugged. “I believe God has a proper place and time for everything.” She tried to hide her frustration, however. For while she did believe in God’s timing, it was her own timing she preferred at the moment. She wanted Ilian to speak to her of love—to tell her that he’d lost his heart to her. She wanted to return the favor and tell him that he had become dearer to her than she had thought possible. Of course, maybe it was too soon. Maybe she was just caught up in Mormor’s romance with Morfar. After all, even if she had been helping to care for Ilian over the last few months, and even if they had spent more and more time together, and even if he was the handsomest man she’d ever known . . . maybe it was best to remain silent.

  Mormor and Morfar returned in the midst of Kirstin’s confusion. They were laughing about something, and she couldn’t help but tease them.

  “Laugh all night, cry in the morning.”

  “No,” Morfar declared. “There will be no tears for us. Your grandmother always keeps me smiling.”

  “Are you having success with your canal?” Kirstin asked, trying to forget Ilian’s nearness and all that she wanted to say to him.

  “We made progress. Tomorrow we’re setting off the black powder and nitroglycerin, however. The ground is still too hard to dredge, and we heard a rumor that folks from Superior intend to reach us by Monday with the injunction. We have done our best to get this thing dug, but now we will resort to desperate measures.”

  “Who will set the explosion?” Kirstin asked.

  “I will, of course. Major John and I have worked together for far too many years. We know each other well enough to manage this together. He’s hired more men to dig by hand, but he’ll still handle the dredger. Together, I believe we’ll join the waters tomorrow.”

  “That’s very exciting.” She turned back to the stove to find the water was just starting to bubble.

  “I told him they needed a younger man to handle it,” Mormor declared, “but he wouldn’t even consider it.”

  “There’s no one else we trust with the job. It’s not going to be difficult. We’ll plant it deep, and that way we can blow huge chunks out of the ground. We’re so close, and it’s going to be an exciting moment when we complete this. You should be happy. Duluth is about to have its own harbor. These are good days.”

  Ilian’s sleep was restless that night. He
dreamed of his mother and of a conversation they’d had just before he went off to war. She had been desperately worried that he would die and leave her alone in the world to contend with his father and sisters.

  “You’re the only one in America who cares if I live or die,” she had told him. “My life means nothing if you are dead.”

  Ilian had hated her fear and sorrow over what he might encounter. He had promised her he would return. Promised to be careful. And, despite getting shot twice, Ilian had come through the war in one piece. Both of his wounds had been grazes that left outward scars but no inward damage. He’d been back on the field almost immediately.

  But his mother hadn’t been so fortunate. He hadn’t expected her to contract whooping cough and die before he could return home to see her again. When his father’s letter had arrived, telling him of her death, Ilian had blamed him. It had to be Far’s fault. Everything was. According to his mother and all that he had ever been told, his father was to blame for all of the unhappiness in the world.

  In the calming peace that was gradually growing in Ilian’s heart, he could now reason that wasn’t the case. His father had no doubt made mistakes, but Ilian no longer knew what to think about the marriage his mother and father had shared.

  She’d been gone almost ten years, and in all that time, his father had said nothing bad about her. In fact, he’d not spoken of her at all except on rare occasions, and only after Ilian had brought her up. Even then, Far was kind and gracious. Why hadn’t Ilian seen that before? Far never spoke against Ilian’s mother. Not even once.

  Sitting up in the pitch-black bedroom, Ilian rubbed his aching leg and listened to the rain hit the window and roof. It was quite the deluge, which made the pain he was feeling more understandable. Would it always be like this?

  He got up and pulled on his robe. He figured he might as well check the fire while he was up.

 

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