Northern Lights Trilogy (33 page)

She looked at him with an incredulous expression of outrage.

He ran his hand through his damp hair, feeling the grit of sand. “How can I make you understand?”

She kept shaking her head as if to awake herself from a bad dream.

“Please understand, Elsa. I did not want these feelings. I begged God to take them away. But I cannot rid myself of them. I’ve come to believe that God wants us together because—”

“Stop!” she commanded.

Karl froze, waiting.

“Don’t say another word. You simply make it worse.”

“But surely—”

“Elsa! Karl!” Peder burst into the clearing behind him, but Karl
did not turn. He could only stare at Elsa and watch her expression turn to one of relief at Peder’s arrival. It was as if he watched her being pulled away from him forever, like an iceberg out to sea.

“You’re safe!” Peder rushed toward Elsa, and she ran into his arms, her face already turned away from Karl’s.

Peder hugged her then held her away, seeing the dark stain of blood on her dress front. “Elsa, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Elsa shook her head and looked toward Karl.

“Are you all right, man?” Peder asked in concern, looking at Karl’s chest.

For the first time, Karl noticed the wound that bloodied his white shirt. But he knew that the worst wound he bore was deep inside him. At that moment Stefan arrived, but Karl barely looked at him.

“Thanks, brother, for protecting my wife,” Peder said soberly, taking a step across the clearing to shake Karl’s hand. But Karl stepped back from his friend’s proffered hand, staring into Elsa’s eyes.

It was over. It was all over.

There would be no going back.

His actions had changed everything.

E
lsa paused, her pen poised over the blank paper. For a moment she allowed herself to think of Karl. It had been over a month since the attack on the
Sunrise
, Dutton’s escape on the
Lark
, and the revelation of Karl’s feelings. Had she known all along, or had her own naiveté made her blind to the warning signs? Kaatje had even commented on it. Did she just not want to hear the truth? Had she hurt Karl more in being so stubbornly blind to the truth?

She agonized over it, but could resolve nothing in her own mind and heart. Perhaps writing would be cathartic, she thought, picking up her pen again and dipping it into the inkwell.

Elsa paused and thought about Tora. Was she truly an aunt by now? She felt a brief twinge of guilt for not remaining by her sister’s side, but then quickly repeated to herself why she had left: Innocent or not, the girl had to learn, and it would be painful lessons that might shape her into a woman. Then her thoughts naturally turned to the recurring question of who the father could have been. Tora always refused to say, and Elsa, embarrassed over the whole mess, had not pressed her. An image of Soren entered her head, but she dismissed it, feeling terribly sinful even imagining that such an affair had transpired. No, better to forget recriminations and marry her sister to someone respectable, someone who would care for her and her child. Perhaps the whole experience would force Tora to grow up and marry Kristoffer, as she should.

Once again Elsa thought about the attack, but decided not to mention it. Kaatje would only fret if she thought Elsa in danger. And the danger was long past. The
Sunrise
had been repaired and was ready to face the Horn, just a month behind schedule.

“But that will be our saving grace,” she whispered, staring at her words. What kept her from spilling all of the story onto the page? Why keep it a secret from her best friend? But Peder did not even know what had transpired, she concluded. He had looked at her with some suspicion after Karl had left in such a hurry. But he was simply casting about, trying to find some reason for Karl’s irrational decision and behavior. Peder’s countenance had turned from bewilderment to anger when they had returned to the ship and he discovered Karl’s plan to leave. Elsa shivered as she remembered their heated argument in the sitting room. She had huddled on the edge of the bed in the next room, listening, unable to tear herself away, terrified by what was transpiring.

“What has happened to you?” Peder had roared in frustration. “Something monumental must’ve happened for you to behave so!”

“Nothing has happened. I simply feel I am on the wrong track. That God has a different path for me to follow. John Hall has offered me this opportunity—”

“As have I! Why not remain with friends and build your business alongside us?”

“You do not understand. There is more to it. John will have my steamboat done by the time I get there, not in another year. I can begin my own enterprise now.” His tone sounded half sure.

Peder was silent for a moment. Elsa could almost picture his face. “I do not understand, man. In our yard, you will have your own vessel in a year, built to your specifications. Why do I get the feeling that you are running from something? Why come all this way just to turn around? Is it money?”

“No, no. How many times do I have to tell you? I wanted to make sure you were going to be all right, that the
Sunrise
was shipshape. Surely you won’t encounter anything worse than the
Lark
’s attack. The
Sunrise
is almost repaired, and the injured or dead seamen replaced—”

“With men I doubt in some respects,” Peder interrupted.

“They are sound. And so is the
Sunrise
. You will be fine without me.”

Peder hesitated, then spoke. “Why do I feel like something has changed between us? You are … distant.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about. Look, the
William Jeffries
sets sail for the States at sunrise, and I intend to board her tonight if the captain will have me.”

“Why are you running out on me?” Peder asked, his voice rising. “There is an aspect to this story that is hidden from me. Never in the ten years we’ve traveled together have I seen you act this way. Why are you not telling me all of it, Karl?” He sounded exasperated.

“My business is my own,” Karl said sharply.

“Your business? Your business? Is not your business also mine? Aren’t you intertwined with Ramstad Yard?”

“I was, once,” Karl said, his voice rising to meet Peder’s. He changed tactics. “Was it ever going to be ours, Peder? I mean, really
ours?
Were you ever really going to get to my steamboat, or would there always be another schooner you wanted to get into the works first? Were you just playing me along, using me?”

Peder sputtered, and from her bed, Elsa could imagine his enraged face. “Do not take this path, Karl,” he warned. “You will regret it.”

“I already regret it,” Karl returned. “I regret ever planning a business with you. I’m leaving, Peder. It is better for both of us. I’m tired of living under the Ramstad umbrella like my father before me. I’m tired of competing with my best friend. Can we not part amicably?”

There was only silence in response.

“I wish you could see my side in this, Peder, I really do.” From the other side of the wall, it sounded as if Karl was walking toward the door. “You may send my shares in the
Sunrise
to an address in Saint Paul that I will forward to you.”

“Fine. If that’s your stance,” Peder said, “I am better off without you.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Karl spoke one last time, his voice low. “Yes. You are better off without me. Good-bye, Peder. God be with you. Bid good-bye to Elsa too.”

And with that he had gone. Elsa had not even glimpsed his face again, which left her feeling both relieved and uneasy. Was she supposed to go to him? Try and make amends? Find their footing in friendship again? She shook her head, staring blankly at the letter before her. There were no easy answers. And life seemed to just grow more and more complex.
Please, Father, show me your path
, she prayed, suddenly aware of her need.

Peder entered the cabin, glad to leave the glaring heat of the tropic sun. He found Elsa at the desk in the bedroom, her head in her hands, apparently in the midst of writing a letter.

“Hoping to get a letter off to Kaatje before we leave?” he asked, sitting on the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment. The dizziness was getting worse.

She turned in her chair to look at him, and he dimly registered the alarm on her face. “Apparently I look as bad as I feel,” he mumbled.

“Goodness, Peder, how long have you been ill?” She rushed to his side and eased him to his back, then bent to take off his boots.

“Since yesterday. But we must get going, Elsa,” he said, trying to rise.

She laughed. “Why now? We’ve been here well over a month. What’s another few days?”

“Cargo. Every day we lose is less money we will earn for the year. The
Sunrise
will need several voyages to pay for herself.” He wanted to moan with the effort of speech. “Of all the times for Karl to leave.” Peder lifted his hand to his head. Silently Elsa followed suit.

“You have a fever. Are you dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think it is?”

“Probably malaria. I’ve had it several times. That’s what it feels like. I’ll probably be indisposed for the next few days, love.”

“How can we sail if you are ill?”

“We’ll leave on the morrow with the first mate in command.”

“You have not named a first mate. Or are you promoting Riley?”

“No. Stefan, as second mate, is the logical choice. He will be my first mate. I’ve come to find out,” Peder managed, feeling the effort of every word, “that he is an accomplished sailor. He will see the
Sunrise
out of this harbor and to sea.”

“Stefan? Is not Riley more promising?”

“Do not argue with me, Elsa. It is simply not done that way.”

She stiffened beside him. “Do not treat me like one of your sailors.”

Peder sighed. His head was beginning to throb. “It is my decision
to make and my responsibility. Riley is a good man, but Stefan has rounded the Horn twice as many times.”

Elsa, blessedly, was silent on the matter. “Get some rest,” she said curtly, covering his shivering body with the blankets. Within seconds he slept.

Two weeks after leaving the West Indies, the
Sunrise
sailed into São Salvador, Brazil. It was a lively seaport town, but Elsa was in search of only one thing: a doctor. Peder grew more ill by the day, fading in and out of consciousness. She had done her best to tend to him, but knew he was in desperate straits.