Dawn's Prelude (12 page)

Lydia blurted out the news she’d been longing to share with Zerelda. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“Well, I must admit I had wondered. I thought maybe you were already going through the change, since you hadn’t had your monthly cycles since coming here. And while I’ve seen it happen before, you’re much too young.”

“It honestly didn’t dawn on me until of late. I realized I’d missed my cycles for some time. I was almost too scared to believe it might be true.”

Zerelda stopped and looked at her niece. “Then you are happy about this child?”

Lydia drew a deep breath. “I am.” She turned to meet her aunt’s intense brown eyes. “I’ve always wanted a child of my own.

As you know, it’s not my first time to carry a baby.”

“Are you feeling movement?”

Lydia nodded and grinned. “Like butterfly wings fluttering inside me.”

Zerelda shook her head in wonder. “I suppose that is something I shall never know, except through you. Are you feeling well?”

“I am. Now that I’ve recovered from my trip here, I honestly can say I’ve never felt better. I believe Sitka agrees with me.”

“Good. Then this is a blessing. Children are a gift from God, you know. The Bible says so, and I believe it to be true.”

Lydia didn’t want the moment spoiled with reminders of God.

She shrugged. “Well, I’m thinking there is much to be done before the babe arrives.”

“And when will that be?”

“I can’t be sure, but I think sometime around Christmas.”

Zerelda started walking again and Lydia could see that her aunt was thinking over the logistics of the baby’s arrival. No doubt Zerelda was focused on the medical aspects. There was a military hospital in Sitka with medical doctors, but given that Zerelda was a nurse, Lydia had figured to have her assist with the delivery.

“We have time to make things quite nice,” Zerelda finally said. “We might want to consider adding on to the cabin, however. With Mr. Saberhagen selling the property before he leaves for Germany, we might have to move altogether.”

“Would you ladies care for a ride home?”

Lydia looked over her shoulder to find Kjell reining back on his black draft horses. He grinned down at them. “It would be a tight fit, but I think we can squeeze three on the bench.”

“That would be just fine,” Zerelda said, not giving Lydia a chance to comment one way or another. She handed up her basket to Kjell, then climbed into the wagon as effortlessly as a younger woman. Lydia so admired her aunt. Many women of her age were already old—worn from the duties of life. But not Zerelda.

Kjell reached down to Lydia as she carefully positioned her foot for the climb. She allowed him to take hold of her and nearly gasped as he hoisted her as effortlessly as a sack of flour. He unhanded her and took his seat between her and Zerelda.

“I’d say I’m getting the better end of this deal,” he said, snapping the reins lightly. The horses stepped into action, and the wagon lurched forward. “I get to ride with a beautiful lady on each side. Not many men around here can boast that.”

“Just for that,” Zerelda said with a grin, “I think I’ll invite you to lunch with us. Would that be acceptable to you, Liddie?”

Lydia nodded. “I believe the ride home alone deserves some reward.” The fact of the matter was, she enjoyed Kjell’s company. He was gradually putting her at ease with his calming charm and sensitive understanding. Zerelda had been right when it came to him. Kjell Lindquist was unlike any other man Lydia had ever known.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Dr. and Mrs. Ensign are planning to throw another ball,” Kjell declared. “When they found out Lydia had missed the first one because of her illness after arriving, they were adamant that they should have another to welcome her to Sitka.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Zerelda replied, looking past Kjell to Lydia.

“Neither had I.”

“Good, since I am the first to share such happenings, I will expect you both to attend with me.”

Zerelda laughed. “I’m much too old for a ball, and Lydia is—”

She fell silent as Lydia’s eyes widened.

Kjell didn’t seem to even notice. “Nonsense, Zee. You’re one of the only eligible women available. You have to come. The date is set for two weeks from today.”

A light rain began to fall as they approached the turn for the Saberhagen property. “Looks like your timing is perfect,” Zerelda said as Kjell hurried the horses to the cabin. “Come along inside and we can further discuss this party.”

Zerelda hopped down from the wagon and reached back up for her basket. “You two get a move on before the rain comes down in earnest.”

Kjell moved from the seat, leaving Lydia feeling strangely alone for the moment. She had liked the warmth of his body next to hers.

Much more than she wanted to admit.

Lydia moved to the edge of the wagon and started to step down when Kjell surprised her and took hold of her waist and lowered her to the ground. “I see Zee’s food has put a bit of flesh on your bones,” he commented as they sought the shelter of the porch.

Lydia stiffened. “Are you calling me fleshy?”

He laughed. “You came here skin and bones. You needed a little thickening up, and I’m glad to see you’re doing so much better.”

She felt her face grow hot. If only he knew the real reason for her extra weight. Lydia wondered what Kjell would say if she told him of the baby. She looked at him a moment longer, then smiled. “Aunt Zerelda is a good cook. I must say, she’s teaching me a great deal.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Kjell ushered her through the open door. “Hmm, smells like stew.”

Zerelda nodded. “I put it on when we walked to town this morning. I figured it would be just about ready when we returned.” She pulled on an apron and motioned to Lydia. “Would you set the table? Kjell, how about bringing in some wood?”

“You betcha, Zee.” He bounded back out the door before Lydia had a chance to even reply.

“Kjell said I’m getting fat,” Lydia commented as she went to the cupboard for the bowls.

“He what?” Zerelda sounded shocked, and Lydia couldn’t help but laugh.

“He said it in a nice way. Said it was good to see me getting some flesh on my bones.”

“Did you mention the baby?”

Lydia cradled the bowls and shook her head. “I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m still not. I mean, I realize everyone will know soon; I can hardly expect to keep it hidden for much longer.”

“Well, you are a widow—there’s no shame in expecting your husband’s child.” Zerelda’s matter-of-fact statement was followed with a softening in her tone. “If you’re worried about what people will think, you needn’t. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know, but I can’t help but wonder how this will change my life.”

Zerelda brought the stew to the table. “That remains to be seen. It will change . . . but it would have anyway.”

Lydia heard Kjell’s boot steps on the porch just outside the door. “Please don’t say anything. I’m not ready to talk about it with . . . him.”

“Here you go, Zee. And you were right. It’s really coming down now.” Kjell made his way to the fireplace with an armload of wood.

“You want more than this? I have a feeling the night’s going to turn chilly.”

“This will be fine. I can get more if we need it. Now come on and eat.” Zerelda returned to the table with a loaf of bread and a crock of butter.

Kjell and Lydia took their places at the table and waited for Zerelda to do likewise before Kjell offered a blessing. Lydia was uncomfortable with the prayer. She didn’t bother to bow her head, but instead looked directly at Kjell as he spoke of his gratitude for the hands that had prepared the meal and for the food itself. He talked as casually to God as he did to her or Zerelda. When he concluded the prayer with
amen
, Lydia looked away and cleared her throat. She quickly busied herself by cutting the bread while Zerelda ladled soup into the bowls.

“So what’s the news, Kjell?”

He grinned and took the bowl Zerelda offered. “Well, there’s going to be a census taken in October. Seems the government wants to know exactly how many folks are still here.”

Zerelda leaned over and placed a bowl in front of Lydia. “And what will they do with that count?”

“Hard to say. Usually they use a census for the purpose of voting and such, but we don’t have any voting rights up here. We’re not even a territory yet. I suppose they might also want to judge whether they have enough military in place to keep the law. Maybe consider various taxes to pay for our keep.”

Lydia quietly ate while her aunt and Kjell further discussed the census. She thought of her move to Sitka and how she would be counted among the citizens there. Her unborn child would not yet be numbered.

She thought again of Mr. Robinson’s letter. Should she reply and tell him to hold off on doing anything more until after the birth of the baby? Marston had once commented that Gray money should be for Gray heirs, and now she carried just such a child.

There was a part of her that wanted nothing related to the Grays, however. What if she allowed Robinson to simply give it all back? She could walk away from the entire matter and never give those people another thought. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe real peace could be found in such an action.

“So what do you think, Lydia?”

She startled and looked up, realizing she hadn’t heard a word of the conversation between Kjell and her aunt. “About . . . what?”

Kjell chuckled and gave her a wink. “Zee was just suggesting we might be able to convince you to give us a little concert one of these nights. Maybe have a few other folks in to enjoy the music, as well.”

Lydia tried to imagine being the focus of the evening. “I . . . well . . . I don’t know that I would be comfortable. I mean . . . my music has always been for my . . . for my . . .” She fell silent. How could she explain to them that she had sought a lifetime of solace and companionship in an object of wood and strings?

“I’m sure that, like my guitar playing, it’s always been a rather private thing, ja?” Kjell asked.

She met his eyes and nodded. She found understanding there along with a gentleness that she could not begin to comprehend. This man had a way about him—a way of seeing through her pain and suffering. It frightened and intrigued her.

Chapter 10

September 1870

E
vie Gray Gadston sat next to her sister as they awaited the arrival of Dwight Robinson. Lydia’s lawyer had called the meeting, much to Marston and Mitchell’s displeasure. Evie had already heard from her bellowing brothers that things were not going in their favor, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the future held.

Shifting uncomfortably in her new walking suit, Evie tried not to draw any attention to herself. It was best, she had learned over the years, to simply fade into the background if at all possible. She pretended to pick lint from her upper skirt of mousseline de laine. The patterns of gray and black against the underskirt of dark plum made the outfit look rich and sophisticated. Even Jeannette had commented on the fashion more than once—a sure sign that the style had met her approval.

“Why does he keep us waiting?” Jeannette whined. “The chill in here is unbearable. Why didn’t his clerk offer us some refreshment?”

“Oh, do be quiet, Jeannette,” Mitchell said, glaring her way. “I don’t even know why it was necessary to have you two here. Things would have gone much better had you simply stayed home.”

“I have an interest in the outcome as well as you—perhaps even more so. My husband stands to lose a great deal if this isn’t resolved soon and in our favor.”

Evie heard the door open and turned to see Dwight Robinson enter. She silently issued a word of thanksgiving; she was sorely tired of her family’s company.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a last-minute message from the court and thought it important to bring the information with me.” He went to stand behind his desk. “If you’ll be seated, I will share this information with you.”

Evie could see that her brothers were less than interested in doing as instructed but nevertheless took their seats. Marston seemed particularly agitated by the comment about new information. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in anticipation of what the man would say.

“As you know,” Robinson began, “the courts have rejected your appeal. The will is to be processed as it stands.”

“Our lawyer has already told us this,” Mitchell said. “He is, however, exploring other possibilities.”

“I have spoken to Mr. Sterling. In fact, he will join us shortly.

However, I wanted to see you first. I believe it will be in your best interest to hear me out.”

“Pray continue,” Marston replied, his irritation evident.

“Mr. Sterling agrees with me that your options are basically in the hands of Mrs. Gray.”

Mitchell pounded his fist against the arm of his chair. “That’s outrageous! We won’t stand for this.”

“It’s robbery. Our inheritance is being stolen from us,” Jeannette declared. She looked to her sister for some sort of support, but Evie remained silent.

“If you will allow me to continue,” Robinson said, pulling on his glasses, “I have more to share with you.”

The room fell silent and all gazes turned to the lawyer. Evie watched as he carefully unfolded a single sheet of paper. “I have a letter here from Mrs. Gray.”

“Where is she, by the way?” Mitchell questioned. “Shouldn’t she be in attendance?”

“Mrs. Gray is not needed here, as I am to act on her behalf. I thought we had established that before.” He peered down his nose over the rim of his glasses, awaiting further comment.

“It seems that if this business is to be resolved today, as you suggested in your missive last week, then it would behoove her to be here,” Mitchell said.

“Nevertheless, she is not to join us. Should I continue?”

“Of course, you fool.” Marston was clearly as angry as Mitchell, but Evie knew he would hold his tongue until he found a better angle of attack. He was like that—crafty and capable when it came to manipulating anything for his own pleasure or benefit.

“I received this letter a couple of weeks ago.”