Dad, would you walk me down the aisle? Mother, would you act as mother of the bride?
I think you’ll like Norman Pedersen. Though different from John in some ways, he too is a man of the sea and of faith. He was born in Norway and came to Alaska at the age of eighteen to join his older sister and her husband, Alma and Tennes Kobbevik. They fish out of Juneau on Norman’s troller in the summer and live in Douglas, across the channel from Juneau.
Please do say you’ll come for the wedding.
Your loving daughter,
Violet
She addressed and stamped the envelope and ran downstairs to place it with Mary’s outgoing mail so Daniel could post it in the morning. With the longshoremen’s strike up and down the West Coast still ongoing, she didn’t know when the Barstons would receive her letter. The embargo on Alaska-bound ships had been lifted briefly in June when newspapers agitated the public about the fate of “starving Alaskans.” It had been over a month, though, since another steamer had come in. One must be due in soon.
As the twilight deepened, the house had become quiet. When Violet passed the Penningtons’ bedroom, a narrow slit of light shone from under their door. Daniel was snoring. Mary must still be writing letters.
Everyone else was sleeping. Violet savored the moment as she pictured the children safe in their beds. In a few months, everything would be different. They would all be sleeping under many other roofs. At the second floor, she tiptoed to the girls’ room and put her ear to the door. No one stirred. She crossed the hall to the boys’ room. Springs squeaked and bed clothes rustled momentarily. Someone must be turning in their sleep.
Violet headed back toward the end of the hall and slipped up the spiral staircase that led to her attic room. As she shut her door, she realized that she would soon close the door on this part of her life. The finality of it all struck her. How she would miss all these who had become so dear to her and had given such meaning to her life.
But a new day was dawning. Holding her left hand under the lamplight, she studied the ring. Sparkles splashed on the ceiling, radiating with all the promises the future held. Joy bubbled up from within her, chasing away the melancholy moment.
Norman. How precious he had become to her. And maybe, God willing, one day they’d even have a child of their own.
Chapter 36
SHORTLY BEFORE NORMAN WAS DUE back, the family was eating breakfast when a knock sounded at the door. Daniel returned from answering it waving an official-looking ecru envelope, which he handed to Violet. “That was an Alaska Communications System delivery boy with a telegram for you.”
Violet’s heart sped up. Who could be sending her a telegram? She slit open the envelope to retrieve the message and read it silently as everyone around the table stopped eating and stared at her:
SO HAPPY FOR YOU BOTH STOP DELIGHTED TO DO AS YOU ASK STOP WILL COVER ALL COSTS STOP MUCH LOVE MOM AND DAD BARSTON
“Oh! It’s from the Barstons.”
“That’s your name.” Julia screwed up her face trying to figure out the significance.
“Yes, dear, Mr. and Mrs. Barston are my in-laws, my first husband’s parents. Norman Pedersen and I decided to get married at Thanksgiving. I wrote to tell them about my upcoming wedding. Since we don’t know when the next steamship will be able to come north, they sent this telegram to say they will attend.”
“What happened to your other huthband?” Angie’s eyes held big question marks.
“Sh!” seventeen-year-old Marie hissed. “Don’t make her sad. He died in a shipwreck a long time ago.”
A storm cloud scuttled across the usually sunny expression on Angie’s features as she puckered up to cry.
Violet held up her hand. “It’s all right, girls. Angie didn’t know.” To the four-year-old, she explained how John had died even before Marie was born.
A wide grin erupted from Angie’s face. “You gonna marry Mister Norman now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my little angel.”
“Ugh! All this love talk!” Eleven-year-old Alessandro turned up his nose and squirmed in his seat. “May I please be excused?”
Daniel smiled at him. “In a few more years you won’t find such talk so disgusting. Yes, you may leave the table. In fact, you may all take your dirty dishes to the kitchen and go outside and play before the rain starts. Marie will supervise.”
As the children cleared the table, the adults remained seated, lingering over their tea. Violet said, “Now that we know the Barstons are coming, I was wondering if we could all have Thanksgiving dinner here—the Barstons, the Kobbeviks, Norman and I, and all of you. We can all make our specialties and eat together.” She blinked back the sudden moisture. “Who knows where we’ll all be living next Thanksgiving.”
Cally dabbed at her eyes.
Mary, who looked misty-eyed too, was the first to recover. “I think that’s a lovely idea, dear. Why don’t you discuss it with Alma?”
“I will. Thank you.” Violet glanced around the table. “You’ve been so good to me. I’ll miss you.”
“We’ll all still be here in Juneau,” Daniel said. “We’ll see you in church, won’t we?”
“Of course, but it won’t be the same.”
“Have you decided about a wedding dress?” Cally asked.
Daniel stood. “I have some errands to run before it rains. I’m sure you don’t need me hanging around while you make plans, so excuse me, ladies.” He headed to the bedroom and returned wearing his suit jacket. “See you later.”
Violet handed the telegram to Cally to read. “Since Mother and Dad Barston insist on paying the expenses, I’m sure that includes my dress.”
“Why don’t you wire her and ask her to purchase one in Seattle and ship it up?” Cally suggested. “You can send her your measurements and explain what you have in mind. And I want to buy you a trousseau. Every bride needs new lingerie.”
“Oh, Cally, how sweet of you!” Violet chuckled. “I guess you’ve seen how ragged my robe is. Yes, I do need some new unmentionables. Which reminds me, Mary, please tell everyone else that we don’t need gifts. So many are out of work right now with the Alaska-Juneau Mine on strike and the Depression. I don’t want to cause a hardship on anyone at church. Norman’s house, I’m sure, is fully equipped.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, dear,” Mary said. “We’ll spread the word.”
“Mary, would you be my matron of honor?”
“I’d love to!” Mary reached over and grasped her hand.
“Do you need a dress too?”
“Of course, she does,” Cally answered before Mary could demure. “I have some beautiful gowns I brought from New York that I have never worn. Maybe we can find one to remake. Come with me.” Cally beckoned for Violet and Mary to follow her to her room. There she opened a cedar chest at the foot of her bed and laid out several of the loveliest gowns Violet had ever seen.
“Where did you get these?” A note of awe tinged Violet’s tone.
“When I left New York after my husband passed away, I had no idea I’d be coming to Alaska. I had a heart condition. I was headed for California to have a good time with a lady friend before I got too ill to travel. I thought I’d need these gowns. But God had a different plan. I met Him in a tent meeting, and He healed me. That’s when I decided to do something better with the rest of my life—something that would make a difference. Even though I had no experience with children, when I learned that the orphans in Juneau needed a home, I knew this was my calling.”
Violet hugged Cally. “Wow! I never knew your story.”
Cally brusquely changed the subject. Sweeping her hands across the various fabrics on the bed, she asked, “What color do you prefer?”
Violet fingered a rose-colored silk gown. “Mary, you would look beautiful in this one.”
“It’s elegant, and I like the color.” Mary held the dress up to herself, and her mouth fell open. “Not that neckline, though. It’s much too revealing for me.”
“You’re right, but I have some Victorian lace that would be perfect.” Cally rustled around in the chest and pulled out an off-white lace collar that fell in soft ruffles and filled the plunging V-neckline.
“Perfect!” Mary and Violet chorused.
“Try it on,” Violet said.
Mary slipped into the dress. Cally buttoned up the back for her and draped the lace around Mary’s neck. As Mary reviewed herself in the long mirror hanging on the door, Cally nodded. “It fits fine as is. It was floor length on me. You’re taller, so it hits you just above the ankles in keeping with the more recent fashion.”
“Looks like I’m all set, then.” Mary took off the dress, and Cally hung it up.
“Today is bread-making day,” Mary reminded them. “I’d better get started so it has time to rise.”
Cally and Violet followed Mary to the kitchen. As they baked and prepared lunch, the three of them continued to discuss plans for Violet’s upcoming nuptials.
As lunch concluded, Daniel reported the news he’d heard around town about the longshoremen’s strike. “The word is that July 5th, Tacoma agreed to open its docks for ships headed to and from Alaska, and an Alaska Steamship vessel is on its way here.”
“I’d better answer the Barstons’ telegram right away.” Violet excused herself from the table. Her head swirled with wedding plans.
The days sped by. Fishing season ended, and school started. Norman spent several evenings a week and Sundays with Violet. They took long walks and talked of their future together. He showed her his boat and house. The more time they spent together, the more their feelings for each other grew, and Violet realized what a treasure God had given her. By not allowing all of their suffering and losses to make them bitter, they had both learned patience, and their appreciation for each other grew as their relationship unfolded.
Because the wildflowers would have long been covered with snow by Thanksgiving, Mother Barston sent rolls of delicate wood fiber in various shades of pink and white to make roses for the bridal bouquets and decorations. On evenings when Norman didn’t visit, the women and older girls gathered around the dining room table to create flowers. Violet cherished those times together laughing and reminiscing as they worked.
The women planned the Thanksgiving meal and began prepping. The deepening Depression made it more difficult to obtain food supplies. Mary discovered a recipe for crustless pumpkin pies, which used a dusting of corn flour in the bottom of the pan. That saved enough flour for a wedding cake. Norman asked Alma to make Norwegian lefse, a thin potato pancake that she rolled up with preserves or a cinnamon-sugar-butter mixture, much like a crepe, for their Thanksgiving breakfast at the Penningtons’. Lefse was also one of Norman’s favorite foods. Alma promised to teach Violet how to make it.
The week before the Barstons arrived, Norman moved most of Violet’s belongings to his house in Douglas. They’d move her bed and dresser to their spare room later. The Barstons would stay in a hotel until after the ceremony, when they’d move into Violet’s room until their departure.
The night before the ceremony, the adults and older teens all pitched in to decorate the sanctuary with spruce boughs, wide ribbon streamers, and bouquets of the wood fiber flowers they’d made. When they were done, Violet inhaled the scent of the greenery as she surveyed their work. Unless you touched them, the flowers looked real—deep pink, pale blush, and creamy white roses. “Thank you, everyone! Everything’s beautiful.”
They stepped out the door into a typical Juneau misty rain to head home. If only the incessant cold rains would stop for her special day, everything would be perfect.
As she prepared for bed on her last night in the attic bedroom that had been her home for twelve years, her thoughts flashed back to her spur-of-the-moment wedding with John. She’d been so young and hardly knew him, yet she’d been confident that marrying him was the right thing to do, and they’d been happy together. She was older and wiser now and knew what life could throw at her, yet she felt that same confidence that this marriage to Norman was an unexpected gift from God.
Finally, the evening Violet and Norman had been waiting for arrived—crisp under a starry sky. The congregation gathered at the church for the service. They sang several hymns of thanksgiving, and Pastor Pennington took the opportunity to preach a short sermon on Christian marriage. “How thankful everyone can be that God, who declared it was not good for man to be alone, created such a beneficial institution,” he declared.
When Esther Pennington rose to sing “O Perfect Love,” accompanied by her brother, Ben, on the violin, the wedding party slipped out to a Sunday school classroom. Then, as the organ and violin swelled with the strains of Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” Norman and Tennes, dressed in new black suits, entered the sanctuary and stood to the pastor’s left.
Mary, wearing the ankle-length, rose silk gown adorned with lace at the neckline and carrying a pale blush nosegay of wood fiber roses, walked sedately down the aisle to his right. Dressed in a mauve, lace-trimmed gown and a coordinating corsage, Mother Barston sat on the front row. When she stood, everyone followed her lead. The organ transitioned to Mendelsohn’s “Here Comes the Bride.”
Violet, on Dad Barston’s arm, glided down the aisle. Her off-white lace and silk gown with fitted bodice and bias cut skirt that fell gracefully to her ankles held a hint of blush. She carried a large nosegay of creamy white and pale blush roses and wore a circlet of rosebuds in her hair. As she entered, an “ah” arose from everyone’s lips, but Violet had eyes only for Norman. Her heart tripped as his eyes widened and a big smile lit his features.
Pastor Pennington read several Bible passages, including the one from Ecclesiastes that Violet and Norman had requested. “When we first met Violet, she was in deep mourning, greatly in need of comfort in the loss of her child and husband. Norman too came to us in the midst of a similar double sorrow. As they comforted each other, they fell in love. Tonight, they are joining together in holy matrimony. Truly, as He promised in Isaiah 61, God has given them ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.’”
Norman and Violet repeated the traditional vows after the pastor and exchanged rings. Then they knelt in prayer. Daniel laid his hands on their heads and prayed for the new union. “As You said in Psalm 68:6,” he concluded, “You ‘place the solitary in families.’ For this we thank You. Bless them with long life together. Amen.”
“You may kiss the bride,” Daniel announced. Everyone clapped as Norman kissed his bride. “Allow me to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Norman Pedersen.”
After the simple reception of cake and punch, the new Mr. and Mrs. Pedersen left for their first night together in the fanciest hotel in town. As they stepped out of the church, the sky was aglow with color.
“Look, Violet!” Norman pointed at the flowing curtains of light above. “Even the Aurora Borealis came out to celebrate our happiness.”
Epilogue
PETERSBURG, ALASKA, 22 YEARS LATER, 1956
“So that’s my story.” Violet had been so engrossed in her account that she’d been rocking back and forth in her well-used maple Boston rocker.
Evie Pedersen Carpenter, Norman’s daughter who had been kidnapped at the age of three and had never seen her father again, had been furiously scribbling notes as Violet spoke. Just the year before, Evie had found her Aunt Alma, Uncle Tennes, and her half-brother, Erik, living in Petersburg after she discovered her true origins. She was collecting the stories of her newly found family and writing them down for her children.
Violet continued, “I’ve been through the ‘valley of the shadow of death’ many times in my life as, one after another, my loved ones died. But I have learned that, even in the midst of the storms, the Lord was always with me. When the storms were past, He led me ‘beside still waters and restored my soul.’ And He set me in a family
I could call my own. I’ve been blessed.”
“The Lord has set us both in a wonderful family, hasn’t He?” Evie said.
“Norman and I wanted children. After four years, when we’d given up, I found myself expecting. I was forty-one when Erik was born. Our happiness was complete.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, still rocking. Evie sat quietly as Violet relived those happy times.
“Pastor Pennington dedicated him to the Lord. And I kept in touch with the Barstons until they passed away a few years back. They became the only grandparents Erik ever knew.”
Violet stopped rocking. “What a poor hostess I am! Would you like a cup of tea?”
“I’ve been too engrossed in your story to notice, but yes, I’d love one.”
Violet returned from the kitchen with a tray of china cups, a sugar bowl, and a creamer. As Evie added sugar to her tea, she admired the cups. “These are exquisite.”
“They’re the cups that belonged to my aunt in Boston, the ones I brought north to remind me of happy times. I deliberately broke one when Elizabeth died and didn’t use them again until Mary Pennington appeared at my door in Whitehorse.” Violet fell silent. Then she smiled at a memory. “When Erik was born, Norman brought me breakfast in bed. He knew the story of my special cups and served me tea in this one. He was thoughtful like that.”
“I wish I could have known him.” Evie sighed. “It must have been hard to lose him.”
“It was.” From a nearby shelf, Violet picked up the framed photograph of a younger Norman and studied it. “He was only fifty-one, sick just a few days—pneumonia—before he died. We had seventeen good years together.”
She handed the photo to Evie. “And I have Erik. He’s a good boy. He reminds me a lot of your father—not just in looks but in his temperament and mannerisms.”
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