Beside Still Waters

by AnnaLee Conti

  In addition, food must be prepared ahead since they did minimal cooking on Sundays. The older girls assisted Cally in the kitchen. They reconstituted evaporated milk in pitchers and stored them in the wooden cooler just outside the kitchen door. Next, they peeled and chopped potatoes and vegetables and immersed them in cold water until they would be added around the large roast that would go into the oven before church or to chickens stewing on top of the cookstove.

  With the Depression bearing down on them, Sunday was often the only day of the week they served meat. They tried to stretch out the leftovers as long as they could with casseroles and soups, and finally, they ate beans or pancakes for supper by the end of the week. If they had enough sugar, the girls would bake a sheet cake or several batches of cookies for Sunday dessert. If not, they whipped tinned milk into flavored gelatin for a tasty treat.

  In the morning, Violet and the older girls brushed and braided hair for each other and the younger ones while Cally made breakfast. Daniel and Mary helped the boys with their ties and combed their hair. With all of them working together, even the littlest ones were ready to go when Daniel started the car. They all piled in with him, Mary, and Cally. In nice weather, Violet and the older children walked the several blocks to church.

  Later, when Violet entered the sanctuary after teaching her Sunday school class, she noticed Norman Pedersen sitting near the back. In spite of the dark circles under his eyes, he looked even more handsome in his dark suit. By his gaunt appearance, she guessed he hadn’t been eating. Her stomach clenched. She’d been unable to function after Elizabeth and John died. She greeted Norman before sitting with several of the younger children for the worship service.

  After the song service, the Pennington’s ten-year-old daughter, Esther, sang a solo accompanied on the violin by her brother, Ben, now nearly fifteen. Both were self-taught and showed definite musical talent. Violet often heard Esther picking out the hymns on the piano too.

  At the conclusion of the service, the Penningtons often invited newcomers to eat dinner with their huge family. This Sunday, they asked Norman to join them. Violet hoped he’d be able to enjoy the home-cooked meal.

  When everyone was seated around the table, they joined hands while Daniel gave thanks for the meal. As the food was passed, the adults helped to serve the younger children.

  Next to Violet, six-year-old Julia poked her fork into the portion of meat on her plate and turned up her nose. “I don’t like pot roast. Why can’t we have meat loaf?”

  Violet patted the girl’s knee. “Now, Julia, we had meat loaf last Sunday. We can’t have it all the time, can we? Let me cut your meat into tiny bites. Mix it with your potatoes and gravy and pretend it’s stew. You like that.”

  Julia’s frown turned into a wide, adoring smile, and soon she was eating with gusto. Violet caught the hint of a smile that curved Norman’s lips.

  Little Angie, who had just turned four, was sitting across from Violet and next to Norman. Fixing big brown eyes on him, she lisped, “Please, mister, would you cut my meat for me?”

  He took the child’s knife and fork in his own work-roughened hands and sliced the meat into tiny pieces manageable for her size. In the next instant, his face clouded over, and his eyes reddened. He swiped a hand down his face as though trying to erase a thought too painful to entertain. Perfunctorily, he emptied his plate like a child who’d been taught to never waste food, but he appeared oblivious to the banter around him, and he refused seconds.

  The poor man! How well Violet knew what he was going through. Being around children had been torture for her too. She breathed a silent prayer that the Lord would help him find his missing daughter.

  As they left the table, Julia sidled up to Norman and offered him a picture. “I drew this for you in Sunday school.”

  He smiled and thanked her graciously. “I’ll hang it on my wall.” But Violet again noticed the anguished look in his eyes as he tucked the picture into his suit pocket.

  After dinner, Mary sent the younger children upstairs to take naps since they would be up late for the service that evening.

  “May we go for a walk?” Ben asked, indicating the older boys.

  “Yes,” Daniel said, “but no rowdy games. They’re off limits on the Lord’s Day, you know.”

  They all nodded solemnly and headed out the door.

  “Esther and Marie, your turn to help with the dishes,” Cally said as she and Violet stacked plates for the girls to carry from the table.

  The Penningtons ushered Norman into the living room. When the meal had been cleared away and the kitchen restored to order, the girls put on thick sweaters and took their Sunday school papers outside to read on the front steps. Cally and Violet joined the adults.

  “I’ve walked all over town showing Evie’s picture,” Norman was saying when Cally and Violet slipped in.

  “Any success?” Daniel asked.

  “Several people knew who she was.” Despair filled Norman’s eyes. “Apparently, Mrs. Parker doted on her, dressing her up and showing her off everywhere. Everyone I’ve talked to said Evie looked happy and well cared for, but no one knows where the Parkers went.” He swiped his hand down his face just as he had at the table earlier, but he couldn’t erase the expression of hopelessness. “Many were surprised to hear they’d gone.”

  “At least you know she’s probably not being mistreated.” Mary spoke in soft tones, offering the only comfort she could.

  “Did you learn anything at the steamship office?” Daniel asked.

  “One clerk thought he remembered a little girl with a man and woman buying tickets a couple of weeks ago. He thinks the girl had curly, blond hair and may have been Evie, but he didn’t remember where they were going.” Norman coughed and cleared his throat. His voice hitched higher in despair. “They could have gotten off anywhere the ship stopped between here and Seattle.”

  Conversation ceased while Norman struggled to regain control of his emotions.

  Finally, he spoke with determination. “I’ve decided to take the Kristina, my boat, that is, and head south for the winter. Along the way, I’ll search every place where the steamers stop. If she’s still in Alaska, I’ll find her.” His face hardened. “I’ll bring those kidnappers to justice.”

  Norman rose to his full height, well over six feet. “I just wanted to let you know my plans. Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Pennington. It’s the most I’ve eaten all week.” He nodded at Cally and Violet. “Ladies.”

  They all stood, and Norman reached out to shake Daniel’s hand.

  Norman’s hand still in his, Daniel asked, “You don’t have to run, do you?”

  “You haven’t had dessert yet,” Violet said. “The girls made a cake.”

  “Thank you, but I really couldn’t eat another bite.” Norman’s gaze swept the group. “You’ve all been so kind, but now I really must go. I sail at first light tomorrow, and I still have to close up my house in Douglas.”

  To her surprise, a keen sense of disappointment flooded through Violet. But why? She hardly knew the man. Besides, she wasn’t interested in any romantic attachments. She would not risk that.

  “Be sure to write,” Mary said.

  Daniel chuckled. “She means it.”

  Shaking off the unwanted feelings, Violet added, “And she’ll answer every letter!” The others nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll be back when the fishing season opens in the spring.”

  Violet’s wayward heart leaped in anticipation.

  “Let’s have a word of prayer before you go.” Daniel held out his hands in invitation.

  As they all joined in a circle, Violet found her hand engulfed in Norman’s. The heat of his strong clasp distracted her from Daniel’s voice lifted in supplication for Norman and his daughter.

  The next day was Labor Day. Violet and Cally were preparing oatmeal for breakfast when a knock sounded at the kitchen door. Violet ran to answer it. When she opened it, her heartbeat escalated. Norman stood there holdi
ng two large salmon, one dangling from each hand.

  “I thought you could put these to good use.” He held them out to her. “They’re all cleaned.”

  “Oh yes! Come in.” She gestured for him to enter. “Cally, look what Norman brought.”

  “What a treat! I’ll cook them for dinner tonight.”

  Norman shifted from one foot to the other as though embarrassed by their excited exclamations. “Where would you like me to put them?”

  Cally snatched a pot from the drainboard. “Set them here in the sink.”

  “Why don’t you come back this evening and enjoy the salmon with us?” Violet asked.

  “I’m on my way out, so I must run.”

  Violet knew that was his plan. But still, she felt a sense of loss. Once again, she rebuked her wayward heart.

  “Thank you!” Cally said, and Violet chorused her sentiment as she escorted him to the door.

  “Godspeed on your journey, Norman. I pray you find your daughter.”

  “Ya! Thank you. See ya in the spring.” And he was gone.

  Violet felt strangely bereft. But the children burst into the dining room ready for breakfast, so she had no more time to analyze her feelings.

  Labor Day signaled that a new school year would begin the next day. Transitioning from the less structured vacation time to the more rigid school year schedule required much prompting to get the children up and out on time with sack lunches in hand.

  As a teacher, Violet was expected to be in her classroom half an hour before the students, so she was always the first one out of the house. Her absence during the day put a heavier load on Mary and Cally, but her salary, though meager, was a welcome addition to the home’s budget.

  To stimulate the flagging economy, President Roosevelt had raised the price of gold that year from $20.67 to $35.00 an ounce. That kept the Alaska-Juneau Gold Mine open. Otherwise, the Depression that was sweeping the world would have made it even more difficult to provide for the children since many of the fathers who paid for their children’s keep worked in the gold mill.

  As the Great Depression deepened across the nation, offerings coming to the home through the mail dwindled. But God was faithful to provide for their needs one way or another. “Missionary barrels” filled with used clothing from church women’s groups still arrived. When the children outgrew their clothes and shoes, they were passed down to the next child. They could seldom afford to buy new clothes, but no one ever went to bed hungry.

  Violet dressed carefully for her first day of the school year. Every time she visited John’s parents, his mother insisted on taking her shopping. She now had suits in black, navy, and gray, and a week’s worth of blouses in rayon and silk. Selecting her navy suit, she added a periwinkle blouse with wide, lace-trimmed ties that overlapped into a jabot at the neck. Her clothes weren’t new, but she took such good care of them that they lasted a long time.

  Over silk stockings, she laced up her comfortable round-toed, black leather oxford pumps that had a professional-looking medium-height military heel. When the snow arrived, she’d add rubber, zip-up galoshes over her shoes and wear woolen stockings. Her beige summer clutch coat was sufficient outer wear the day after Labor Day, but in a month, she would need the beautiful black wool coat with a silver fox collar Mrs. Barston had insisted on buying for her.

  As Violet greeted her new class, she had little time to think of anything but the lessons. In quiet moments throughout the day, though, while her students were working on math or spelling, Violet’s thoughts strayed to Norman. Had he found his daughter? She’d struggled for years to come to terms with her losses. She prayed that he would soon know the comfort only the Lord could give.

  Fall in Juneau lasted a few short weeks. Only then did Violet miss Boston. The forests of Southeast Alaska were evergreen. She missed the bright, colorful leaves of the maples and oaks in New England. The first snow fell in early October, clothing the trees in dazzling white. Daylight soon reduced to about five hours around Christmas. Violet never tired of seeing the rising sun transform the snow-clad mountains into mounds of strawberry ice cream.

  Classes never closed for weather. Every day, her students walked to school in rain or snow and even when the hurricane-force Taku wind howled off the glaciers and whipped the waters of Gastineau Channel into stiff peaks like meringue on a lemon pie. The girls were required to wear dresses to school, so they either wore snowsuits over their clothes or pulled on slacks or long, heavy woolen stockings under their skirts.

  Most of the year, they spent the beginning of the school day removing their snow-covered outer garments and hanging them on hooks along one wall of the classroom. When all were at their seats, they stood to pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and sing “My Country ’Tis of Thee.” This year, Esther Pennington was in Violet’s class. Her clear, sweet voice rang out enthusiastically, which encouraged the others to sing lustily.

  Mornings were then devoted to reading, spelling, arithmetic, and handwriting. Midmorning, they donned their outdoor garments again for recess on the playground.

  After lunch, Violet read aloud a chapter from a book. Her favorites were Jack London’s Call of the Wild and White Fang, which reminded her of her years in the Yukon. She often talked about her experiences on the Yukon River during geography, science, and especially Alaska history, in which the gold rushes played a prominent part. Then it was time for the children to again put on their warm outer garments for the walk home, often in twilight.

  And so the long winter passed in a flurry of routine activity. Thoughts of Norman became less frequent throughout her day, although Violet and the Penningtons continued to lift his name in prayer. He wrote once when he arrived in Seattle to let them know that, although he had searched every town along the Inside Passage, he’d found no trace of his daughter. “And Seattle is so big that, without a miracle, I have no hope of finding her,” he concluded.

  At Christmas he’d sent a card with brief greetings, but no news. “See you in the spring,” he promised.

  The Penningtons and Violet kept praying for a miracle.

  Chapter 30

  JUNEAU, ALASKA, MAY 1934

  The fishing season began in May, and school closed so parents could take advantage of the moderate summer weather to earn their annual income. Attendance in church suddenly increased as fishermen and their families who had gone south for the winter returned to Juneau.

  The first Sunday in May, Violet’s breath caught when she entered the sanctuary and saw Norman Pedersen shaking hands with the Penningtons. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. His face and hands appeared newly sunburned, and his cheeks were more filled out. His dark hair lay in tidy waves, not tousled as she’d last seen him.

  As she hurried over to greet him, she reminded herself of her resolve to remain single. She stretched out her hand. “How nice to see you back!” The clean, spicy scent of his shaving soap gave her a jolt. It reminded her of John.

  “Thank you.” Norman gestured toward the man and woman standing near him. The woman bore a resemblance to Norman, except that her hair was blond, streaked with white. “May I introduce my sister and her husband, Alma and Tennes Kobbevik? We just got back yesterday. My sister wanted to get acquainted with the people who were so kind to me last fall.”

  “Glad to meet you! Welcome!” she and the Penningtons murmured as everyone shook hands.

  Before any more could be said, the children noisily entered the sanctuary from their Sunday school classes. As soon as Julia spotted Norman, she ran over to him. “Mr. Pedersen! You’re back!” Gazing up at him with an adoring, gap-tooth smile, she threw her arms around his waist in an exuberant hug.

  Norman patted her dark head. “How are you, Julia?”

  “Fine!” Her pleasure that Norman had remembered her name was evidenced by the glow on her face. She glanced at the drawing she held in her hand and thrust it at Norman. “For you.”

  “Why, thank you, Julia.”

&n
bsp; She flashed him another toothless grin and dashed off to join the other children in the front row.

  As soon as Julia turned away, Violet noticed that same haunted expression flicker in Norman’s eyes.

  Mary addressed Norman and the Kobbeviks. “We’d love to have you folks come for dinner at our home after church.”

  “Norman told us all about your big family,” Alma said. “We don’t want to impose.”

  “Oh, it’s no imposition. The more the merrier.”

  “We’d love to come.”

  “Good! Then it’s settled.”

  Violet and Mary quickly found their seats with the children while Daniel opened the service with prayer.

  After the benediction, Norman, Alma, and Tennes accompanied Violet and the older children as they walked back to the house. Strolling arm in arm, Alma and Tennes followed the teenagers up the steep sidewalk. Norman ended up paired with Violet at the rear.

  A low overcast hid the sun. A gusty wind swirled the dust and debris in the street. They had walked only a block when it began to rain—not big drops but a mist that permeated everything without getting them really wet. They all picked up their pace.

  “When I first came to Juneau,” Violet took in a gulp of air, “I could scarcely climb these streets.”

  “Ya, me too.” Norman slowed his long-legged stride to match hers. “You do fine now, though.”

  “If you don’t want to get soaked, you learn to walk fast in Juneau.”

  “Ya, that’s sure the truth, but it rains even more in Ketchikan.”

  “Oh, have you lived there too?”

  “When I first came to Alaska in 1920, I worked at a cannery near there until I bought my fishing boat. I fished out of Ketchikan for several years.” Norman hesitated and cleared his throat. His next words were laced with great emotion. “I had an unfortunate first marriage. That’s a long story. The only good that came out of it was my two sweet little girls. When the girls were very young, they and their mother were lost at sea in a bad storm near Prince of Wales Island on someone else’s boat.”