Dawn's Prelude (10 page)

“What way?” Lydia asked, her voice barely audible.

“Like your husband. Like his sons.”

“How can you be sure?” Lydia looked at Zerelda, her gaze searching for answers.

“Some men are lost souls who care nothing about the Lord or their fellow man. But some are given to listening to God—to putting others first. Kjell is the latter kind. I’ve never known him to raise his voice. I’ve seen him offer the best he has to those in need. He doesn’t deserve your suspicion.”

“I wasn’t truly offering it. I suppose that’s just the way I tend to be. I’m sorry. Should I apologize to him?”

“Kjell probably never even gave it a second thought. I think, however, it would suit you well to spend some time just talking to him. Get to know him. Restore your opinion of men in general.

They aren’t all like those you’ve known.”

“I hope not. But please understand,” Lydia said, turning back to Zerelda, “I didn’t come here seeking romance or a husband. I want only to live out my days in peace. There was never any peace in Floyd Gray’s home.” She grew thoughtful. “I remember the joy and contentment I had when I was a little girl. That’s really all I want now.”

“I hope you’ll find it here, sweetheart.” Zerelda patted her hand.

“Sunday, if you’re well enough, I’ll introduce you to my friends at the church. I think you’ll like them very much.”

Lydia shook her head. “I’m not much interested in church.

Floyd was a firm believer in being seen at church every Sunday.

It promoted his social standing with the community to be known for his attendance and supposed benevolence. Sitting there week after week and seeing the mockery he made of such institutions left me with little desire to participate. Especially since I don’t believe God cares about me anyway.”

Zerelda could hardly comprehend the gravity of her niece’s words. Never in their correspondence had Lydia made such a declaration. “You really believe that God doesn’t care about you?”

“I know He doesn’t. He’s let so much bad happen to me that I want nothing to do with church and religious nonsense.”

“Oh, Liddie, I am sorry. You’ve been wronged, no doubt about it.”

Her niece shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ve definitely learned my lesson over the years. If I want peace, I have to make it myself.”

“And if you want love?” Zerelda asked, watching her intently.

Lydia shook her head sadly. “I gave up on having that a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry for all the work I’ve put on you,” Lydia apologized when Kjell came to sit on the porch rail opposite her. “I was overzealous in my purchases.”

“There’s nothing there that can’t be used. You picked wisely. A lot of that will be consumed through the winter. Although I will say, had you bought even one more thing, there wouldn’t have been room to store it. Zerelda was ready to ask her former employer, Mr. Saberhagen, if we could use the main house.”

Lydia glanced the short distance up the hill to where a two-story log structure stood. That house seemed to have been given more care than Zerelda’s smaller cabin.

“Mr. Saberhagen wouldn’t have minded, but I think
I
would have,” Kjell said with a grin. “That trek up and down the hill would have been hard on the horses pulling such a load.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to resort to that,” Lydia replied. She shifted uneasily and pulled her blanket closer. She braved a glance at the blond-haired man and asked, “Have you always lived here?”

“For the most part. I was actually born here. My mother’s people were Russian and my father was Swedish. He came here to work in the otter fur trade. My mother’s parents befriended him, and in doing so, introduced their only daughter to romance.”

Lydia considered how it must have been, growing up in such an isolated place. “This was, no doubt, a very different kind of life.

So far away from civilization and big cities.”

“Well, you have to remember, Sitka was much larger at one point. There was a great deal going on here, and commerce flowed freely. The Russians used this as their capital in Alaska. People were always coming and going. It was a very busy town.”

She considered his comment for a moment, trying her best to imagine such a thing. “And what happened to change it? Everything seems . . . well . . . run down. The buildings look old and tired.

Zerelda said that many of the businesses are gone.”

“That’s true enough,” Kjell said, nodding. “When America purchased the area from Russia, there was a great exodus. For the most part, Russians wanted to return to their own land.

Some stayed, of course. Many of the businesses were sold off or closed down. Some folks took their wares with them back to Russia, while others sold them outright to ships coming into the harbor.”

His voice sounded sad, and Lydia couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his own people. “And what of your parents?” she finally asked.

Kjell met her gaze, his blue eyes seeming to see through to her soul. “They’re gone now. My father and grandfather were taken at sea. We never found their bodies. My mother died of a broken heart just a year later.”

Lydia was sorry for having brought up the subject. She looked away and sighed. “I think I greatly prefer the quiet here to the noise of the city. I’ve never known anything like this, but I find it has a healing effect.”

“Yes,” Kjell agreed. “I find it that way, too.”

“Is that why you never left?”

“I think so. After my mother’s death, my wife, Raisa, wanted to return to Russia. Her family was there, and she longed for her friends and the familiar comforts.”

Lydia stiffened. “I thought you said earlier that you weren’t married.”

“She’s dead. Fell ill and never recovered. She’s buried next to my mother,” Kjell said with a hint of a shrug. “It’s been nearly eight years past.”

“I’m sorry.” Lydia looked at her hands and tried to think of some way to change the uncomfortable topic. She didn’t have long to worry, however.

“You two look hungry,” Zerelda said, coming from around the side of the cabin. “Can you stay for lunch, Kjell?”

He pushed off the rail. “No, actually I’ve left the business idle too long. I need to get back to work. We’re putting in a new saw blade, and I want to make sure it goes well.”

“Then stop by for supper sometime. You know you don’t have to give me any warning—just come on by. Liddie and I will have plenty of food—thanks to her generosity and foresight.”

Lydia felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, but she wasn’t really sure why. She supposed it was just her general discomfort with being the center of attention.

“I’ll do that, Zerelda. A fella shouldn’t pass up too many opportunities to take a meal with such beautiful women.”

“Oh, go on with you,” Zerelda said, laughing, “or I’ll change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, bounding down the steps. “Good day to ya, ladies.
Gud vare med dig.

”

“And with you, Kjell,” Zerelda called out.

“What did he say?” Lydia asked. She watched Kjell direct the horse down the road to town.

“It’s Swedish. He said, ‘God be with you.’ ”

Lydia frowned. Yet another reference to God—that illusive judge who sat on high and did nothing to deliver His children from pain and sorrow. Why would she ever want Him to be with her when He seemed to regard her with such indifference?

Chapter 8

K
jell couldn’t keep his mind on his work. The sawmill business had picked up enough that he needed to implement new equipment and even hire some extra help, but today that still wasn’t enough to hold his attention.

He looked at his ledgers, but it was Lydia Gray he found looking back at him. Her image was firmly etched in his memory. Her dark brown eyes betrayed pain and misery that he couldn’t possibly know. Kjell wanted to offer her comfort, but Lydia seemed to have found her own ways to cope. She wanted no one to get too close. She even seemed to hold Zerelda at arm’s length.

“Kjell, can we talk?”

A short, squat man stood in the doorway to Kjell’s tiny office. He held his hat in his hand and wore a frown on his face that suggested this was not a visit of pleasantries.

“Of course.” Kjell got to his feet and motioned the man in.

“What’s wrong, Arnie?”

The man fingered the edge of his hat nervously before looking up to meet Kjell’s face. “I’m not happy about the increase in price.”

Shaking his head, Kjell tried to remember what increase the man might be referencing. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Your men told me that the lumber I ordered would be an extra twenty-five dollars. That may not seem like much to you, but I’m just getting my business started. It doesn’t seem fair that you should change the price now.”

“But I didn’t,” Kjell protested. “What are you talking about?”

The man seemed to relax a bit when he saw that Kjell was siding with him. “Your men, the Sidorov brothers. They came to deliver part of the lumber and told me the price had been miscalculated.

They said I would owe an extra fifty dollars, but only twenty-five if I paid in cash instead of on account.”

“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t send them to tell you that. Hold on,” Kjell said, getting up from his desk. “I’ll call them in here, and they can explain themselves.”

He walked out to where his foreman, Joshua Broadstreet, worked at adjusting the new saw blade. “Josh, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

The younger man looked up. “What is it, boss?”

“Where are the Sidorovs?” Kjell surveyed the shop but saw nothing of the Russian brothers.

“Delivering another load to the military.” Josh straightened and wiped his hands on a nearby rag. “Why?”

“What do you know about them asking Mr. Seymour for an additional fifty dollars?”

Josh frowned. “Nothing. I didn’t know they had.”

Kjell looked back over his shoulders. “Don’t say anything to them, but when they get back, tell them to come see me.”

“Sure, boss.”

“And, Josh?” The younger man waited expectantly. Kjell smiled. “You don’t need to call me
boss
, remember?”

“Sorry. Force of habit. When I was working in the railroad shops in Seattle, it was required.”

Kjell chuckled as he made his way back to the office. He liked the young man, who’d only come to work for him the month before. Josh showed great skill when it came to anything mechanical, and Kjell knew he’d be an asset for the sawmill. He sobered as he rejoined Arnie.

“The brothers aren’t here right now, but that isn’t important. Just know this. I haven’t raised the price on you. Things stay as they are.”

The older man nodded with relief. “Thank you, Kjell. The Sidorovs told me they would settle up with me tomorrow when they brought the last of the load, but I didn’t want to wait until then.”

“You were wise to come to me. I’ll deal with them. I’m not sure what the misunderstanding was on their part, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

He shook hands with Arnie and returned to his seat. “If you have any more problems, just come directly to me.”

The man nodded. “Thank you, Kjell.”

Kjell waited for several minutes until he was sure Arnie had gone before he summoned Aakashook and Keegaa’n, the two Tlingit boys who worked for him.

“Boys, I have a question for you. You helped Anatolli and Ioann load the wood on the wagon yesterday, didn’t you?”

The boys nodded. Kjell could see they were worried that they had somehow done something wrong. He sought to ease their concerns. “You aren’t in trouble. I just wondered if you knew anything about the price of the wood being increased.”

“No,” Aakashook said, looking to his brother. “Can’t know nothing more.” This was his routine way of explaining that he didn’t know anything else about a matter.

Kjell nodded. The boys’ English had improved considerably since coming to work for Kjell. They actually spoke Russian quite fluently, but Kjell knew their mother wanted them to speak better English, so he spoke it almost exclusively with them. Now, however, he wanted them comfortable, so he switched to Russian.

“Did the Sidorovs say anything at all about the delivery?”

The boys exchanged a look, and Kjell could see they were still uneasy. “You can tell me if something is wrong.”

Keegaa’n, the elder of the two at thirteen, spoke up. “They are mean to us, Kjell. They hit us and if we talk bad about them, they will hit us again.”

Kjell frowned. “They have no right. When did this happen?”

Aakashook had to join in. “They do it all the time. All the time they tell us they will hurt us if we don’t do all the work they give us.”

“Well, I don’t intend to see that go on anymore. You should have talked to me about it. You will in the future, yes?”

The boys said they would.

“Good. Now it’s nearly time for them to lock the gate. Go on home before you get in trouble.” Kjell despised that the Tlingits in Sitka were confined each evening. The law held that the native people were not to be allowed to roam about the town after six o’clock. It was said this was for their safety more than anything, but Kjell knew the whites saw the Indians as a nuisance and had found a way to eliminate their presence, at least for part of the day. Night after night, soldiers rounded up the Indians like wild dogs. The natives would flee ahead of the soldiers, some trying to hide out, but generally they were caught. At six in the morning, the stockade gates were opened and the people of color were allowed to once again meld into the white Sitka society.

Though Kjell was bothered by the injustice of it, the boys didn’t seem to give it any thought. It was all they knew. They hurried off, playfully punching at each other’s arm. Each one tried to be the first to reach the large open door. Kjell followed slowly after them, watching the siblings race across the yard and down the road. They were good boys who had come to him at the insistence of their grandfather. The man had owed Kjell a debt and would not rest until some form of payment had been established. Kjell knew the man couldn’t afford to buy the wood and would have just given it to him, but the old man’s pride would not allow for it. Instead, he offered to let the boys come every afternoon to work at his mill. Their mother especially liked this idea because she saw the benefit in their learning better English.